As soon as they arrived home, Arthur led Francis up to the bathroom to properly clean his hand. He instructed Francis to sit on the closed toilet lid while he pulled out the medical kit. Gauze, medical tape, and bandages were placed on the counter along with some antiseptic and a cotton ball. A little of the antiseptic was poured onto the cotton ball. "This will sting," he warned before pressing the damp cotton ball against the small wound. The boy tensed and let out a hiss, right hand instinctively grabbing Arthur's free left hand and squeezing tightly.
After a few moments, the cotton ball was removed but the hand anxiously grasping his did not. Knowing he needed both of his hands to continue working, he slipped his hand free but adjusted slightly so that he was lightly holding Francis' fingers and moved them to his forearm so he could hold onto that instead. The gauze was picked up and pressed over the little hole, slim fingers squeezing him again. A bit of the medical tape was used to secure the gauze before a bandage was wrapped around his hand a few times to further protect the wound. When he was satisfied, he gently cupped the injured hand with both of his and raised it so he could place a soft kiss on his palm. "There," he whispered, bringing the hand back to Francis' lap. "All done."
The next morning, a furious Arthur stomped into the school and demanded to talk to the principal. Behind him, Jeffrey carried Francis' backpack and led him into the school, much more calmly. However, on the inside burned a rage nearly as bright as Arthur's. He had only known the sweet little boy for a few weeks, but he already felt incredibly protective of him. When he had heard what had happened, he had to stop himself from marching to the school at that moment and giving them a piece of his mind that they would not soon forget.
The meeting with the principal was accepted and Jeffrey waited outside with Francis while Arthur stalked in.
A light hand was placed on the driver's arm. "Will Mr. Arthur really be able to move me to a different class?" the boy asked softly, worried about the answer.
"Of course, child," he answered gently. "That teacher will be lucky if he can get another job after this. Mr. Arthur is very mad."
With a quiet noise, the boy leaned against the driver and closed his eyes, praying things would work out.
"Mr. Kirkland," the principal began, motioning to a seat in front of his desk but Arthur refused to sit; he had too much anger flowing through his body to sit. "What brings you here this morning?"
"My child, Francis, needs to be moved to another classroom. Immediately!"
"Can you tell me why?" he asked, voice and posture still calm as he leaned back in his own chair.
"Your teacher has been screaming obscenities at my child every day, both during and after school. Not only that but his negligence has led to my child's hand being punctured after blatant bullying in the classroom by the students and the teacher."
The other man sat up, placing his elbows on the desk between them.
"Those are some serious allegations and Mr. Pearson is one of our best teachers. That is why I placed Francis in his room originally. I would not have done that if I did not believe he would be safe."
Arthur took a threatening step forward.
"Yesterday he called my child a fag and would have continued yelling at him in such a manner had I not intervened." When the principal looked unconvinced, he continued with a glare. "If you do not believe me, ask your receptionist. She heard the whole incident."
Sighing, the man called the receptionist into the office.
"Mary, did anything unusual happen yesterday with this man's student?"
The woman looked at Arthur and instantly recognized him, eyes widening.
"Yes. It was terrible. There was so much yelling." She smiled warmly at Arthur. "But he's a good dad and went to his son's side."
The principal finally sat up fully.
"Do you have any proof?"
"I have a recording of the incident. I started it when this man left the office in case it was needed."
The man's calm composure fell as she retrieved the tape and played it. Listening to the event again, made Arthur's rage all the more noticeable. Finally it ended and he said, "Either you fire that man or you will have an order from the Prime Minister to do so. He will not be pleased to hear this." He pulled his phone out, waiting to see if he needed to call or not.
With another sigh, the principal picked up his phone off the desk and ordered the teacher to come to his office. When he was finished, he turned back to the two in front of him. "Mary, take Mr. Kirkland down the hall to reassign Francis Bonnefoy."
Nodding, she led him out of the room and into another. Ten minutes later Francis had been moved to another classroom, the teacher notified of the change, and Mary was leading him back to where Francis was waiting with Jeffrey.
"Everything is arranged," he said to answer the question clear on Jeffrey's face. "He will start today."
Mary approached Francis and began to lead him to his new classroom while Arthur and Jeffrey watched.
The door to the principal's office flew open behind them and a fuming teacher stomped out.
"You!" he screamed as he recognized Francis in front of him and, before anyone could move, he grabbed the boy around the neck and lifted him as if he were a doll. Francis kicked and scratched whatever he could reach, trying to get free. Slowly his body went limp and he dangled helplessly.
Suddenly Jeffrey punched the man in the nose with a force that sent his head reeling back into the edge of the door frame and with a loud crack, he fell to the floor unconscious. Francis' tiny body crashed down next to him and Arthur scooped him up instantly, checking to see if he was breathing. A soft breath made him relax slightly and start carrying him to the car, Jeffrey following closely.
"He will start tomorrow."
AN: Italics- speaking in French or internal thoughts
No Italics- speaking in English