Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The environment at Messina Charter High School was one of the best Hero Agosti had ever seen. Teaching could be a trying profession at the best of times, with budget restraints on one side and red tape on the other, so [having a work environment that was stressful on top of that] was never helpful. Such was not the case at this school. 

The principal, Don Pedro Aragon, was an outgoing and good-hearted man, friendly to an almost intimidating degree. During the interviewing process he had talked up the school's virtues— the teachers and students alike— and Hero was delighted to find them true in her time shadowing there. Her new coworkers were great too. Her best friend, Beatrice, also taught there, for AP History. It was one of the reasons she knew to apply for the position before it was really advertised anywhere. 

“It’s a fan-tabulous place to work,” she had said one evening over a container of Chinese takeout. “Best school I’ve taught at yet. The admins are super friendly, the students aren’t too crazy, and the teachers— all excepting Ben—,” Hero subtly rolled her eyes at this, “are great too. You’ll love it!” 

“I believe you,” Hero began, sounding very much like she was about to say ‘but,’ “It’s just that it’s in Dad’s school district. I don’t want to get the job because of nepotism, and you and I both know that he wouldn’t hesitate to pressure everyone involved until I got the position. That’s not the kind of job I want.”

“So don’t tell him.” Beatrice replied easily, earning her a look. “No, I mean it. He doesn’t have to know. Think about it: interviewing is done by the Principal or Vice, background checks are handled by the state, if you asked them to keep it quiet until anything was certain, he wouldn’t even catch wind of it until it was a done deal.” Hero thought about it. It did seem to make sense. 

“You’re right,” she said after a few more minutes of back and forth. Beatrice flapped her hand in front of her, as if to say ‘well, obviously.’ “I’ll put in an application. You’re sure the current English teacher is leaving?’

“Sure as a gym teacher hates crocs.” And that, as they say, had been that. 

Hero had met a few of her coworkers beforehand during the job shadowing period, and was pleased with what she had found thus far. She had met Maggie, the Front Office coordinator, Hamlet Jensen, the Algebra teacher, and Perdita Shepherd, the English teacher for the lower years that first week of shadowing. Ben, she knew from his brief relationship with Beatrice, their particular brand of rivalry having softened to a gentle aggravation with a touch of repressed attraction, as opposed to the outright antagonism it had been directly following their breakup.

They were now well into the first semester of the school year. Mid-September was approaching, and with it, the first round of testing for the year.

“I don’t know how I’m going to get through all the curriculum in time,” Perdita said from where her head lay pillowed on her arms. It was lunchtime in the breakroom, and the stress of the upcoming tests was showing even in the teachers. “They seem to understand the grammar alright, but they can’t for the life of them grasp proper narrative structure. I’ve gone over it three times!” The small blonde woman’s voice took on a slightly shrill tone as she spoke.

“I just went through the first unit once, then handed them the study guide. If they don’t get it, that’s their problem. Sometimes kids are just dumb.” chimed in Kate Minola, the debate teacher. (Hero wondered what, exactly constituted the curriculum for debate, aside from arguing itself, and how Kate felt comfortable moving on from one unit if nobody genuinely understood). Kate had an interesting attitude towards teaching: speak firmly and loudly, and accept no questions.

Privately, Hero felt she would have excelled in the days they still rapped students’ knuckles with a ruler. “You learn more from practical application anyways.” She knocked back the last of her coffee like it was a whiskey neat on a weekend. She got up to get a refill. 

“I like to use this week to let the kids relax before the big storm. Do some quizlets, play some Kahoot. They seem to respond real well to that.” said Ben from his perch on the countertop. He was making his way through a bag of chocolate covered popcorn at the moment. 

Beatrice, as usual, took issue with this. “Of course they do,” she drawled, looking up from where she had been grading papers and previously dutifully listening to everyone but him. “Your whole class is basically a year-long free period. It’s not like your tests contain anything meaningful.”

Ben seemed about to argue, but Claudio, sensing a row, cut him off. 

“Well, I don’t know about that, Beatrice. Health is an important subject! It teaches the students how to take care of themselves, how to stay… well, healthy.” He was always trying to cut the tension between those two. Hero adored him for it.

“Yeah, in an efficient health class. Ben, what was the last assignments your students did?”

“A diagram of the food pyramid!”

“And the one before that?”

“A-,” he hesitated, “A diagram of nutrition?.” He grit his teeth against what was to come.

Beatrice smiled, all teeth. “And the one before that?"

 He looked down, brow furrowed in resentful defeat. “...A diagram of healthy meals for a week.” Beatrice raised her eyebrows at him and went back to her grading.

“Isn’t the food pyramid like, debunked now anyways?” Kate said around a bite of sandwich.

“Yes, thank you, Kate,” Ben said, sounding anything but grateful. There were several chuckles around the room; even Hero had to smother a laugh which she poorly disguised as a cough. 

"Any time." She took another bite of sandwich.

Taking pity on him, Hero chimed in, “It is only the beginning of the year, really. I’m sure Ben’s class gets much deeper into health later on, just like our classes go over more important things later in the semester.” She gave him a pitying smile which he seemed to grasp like a straw. He opened his mouth to speak—

“The curriculum I teach throughout the year is of equal importance,” John’s voice crept from the corner of the room. Everyone looked up. He was one of the teachers Hero didn’t know well personally yet, rarely speaking outside of his classroom, though it seemed nobody else knew him particularly well either. The only things that seemed solid about him were that he was some kind of Calculus-teaching wizard and he was Don Pedro’s half-brother. (The other teachers would also add that he acted like a right bastard most of the time, but Hero didn’t like to make assumptions about people she didn’t know very well based purely off reputation). 
Ben glared at him, taking it as a personal insult, and Kate took a pause from her attack on her sandwich to glare over at him. (Kate was a strong proporter of the “John the Bastard” narrative).

John continued. “It might get more difficult or complex as the year progresses, but I don’t agree that the things learned at the beginning are ‘less important.’” He met Hero’s gaze, seeming to expect a reaction. She considered.

After a second’s contemplation, she said in her best ‘complex discussion’ voice: “You know, I think I agree, actually. I don’t think the things we learn in English vary in importance either. Just because some building blocks are easier to grasp doesn't make them less valuable. You need a firm foundation before moving on to more involved topics. That’s a good point, John.” She smiled politely at him. Perdita nodded her agreement from her seat next to Hero. Ben whined from the counter.
John stared blankly at her for a moment, then nodded his appreciation.

A phone alarm went off. “Somebody call 9-1-1, Shawty fire burning on the dancefloor! Ohhahooo—” Ben whipped his phone out to stop it. 

“Well people, that’s the ten minute mark. Back into the fire!” He said cheerily, and hopped off the counter, crumpling up the now-empty popcorn bag and tossing it into the trash like a basketball as he passed. He missed. Claudio smiled cheerily, picking up the trash and waving goodbye to the room— making brief eye contact with Hero, she noted— as he followed him out.  Beatrice, gathering her papers, rolled her eyes and tucked her tupperware back into her lunch box. 
“You coming, Hero?” Perdita asked. Their classrooms were adjacent. 

“I’ll be along in a minute, I want to finish this first,” she replied, holding up her half-eaten lunch. Perdita nodded and left the breakroom. Beatrice gave her an understanding smile and patted her shoulder as she left.

Hero was a few bites in when Kate polished off the rest of her sandwich, refilled her coffee mug (again), and left, tossing a “Later Agosti,” over her shoulder. She and John were the only two remaining. 

As they continued to eat in silence, Hero stole a glance at her surly coworker. He was reading something, a math text she assumed, as he finished his food without a care. This suited Hero just fine, not being one who loved to be watched while she ate— a holdover from her teen years. These days she took good care of herself and was careful not to restrict herself, but she still got a little uncomfortable eating in public, even around colleagues. 

After scraping the last bite out of her bowl, she rinsed it out in the sink and left it to dry, casting her eyes about the room to make sure nothing was out of place before leaving. John was readying to go back to his classroom as well. She looked at her watch. Shoot. Only 4 minutes left before the students would start arriving. As she turned to go, John’s voice sounded behind her.

“Of course, I doubt the value of Ben’s teaching is ever very high, regardless of what point in the curriculum he’s at.” She turned to see he was carefully gathering his things, not looking at her. She could almost believe he hadn’t spoken. 

Hero smiled. “As his friend, I won’t agree with you there. But as his coworker?” She looked around conspiratorially, then gave a mischievous grin. “I won’t disagree with you either.”

One side of his mouth quirked up in a semblance of a smile. For some reason, that almost-smile made Hero rather proud. She walked quickly back to her classroom with just enough time to get things set up for the next group of students.

Chapter Text

If there was one thing Hero really loved about teaching, aside from the joy of educating future generations and all that jazz, it was the ability to make detailed PowerPoint presentations. Back in college, she had discovered Canva, which allowed her to make even more dramatic and aesthetically pleasing presentations complete with animations, and after that she was a goner. 

Hero made presentations for everything : class projects, game nights (Beatrice had introduced her to the idea of a PowerPoint night, where everyone presented on a different ridiculous topic like ‘rating my exes based on how long it took me to get over them,’ and ‘the history of the gummy vitamin,’ and she was immediately taken with it. To this day, Hero had at least 3 unused presentations of the comedic variety on hand), and now work. 

She was very excited to get into today’s lesson. They were starting Shakespeare’s Othello , which was a favorite of hers. On the board, a black and white title screen shone, appropriately dramatic font proclaiming the play title in red.

“Alright, before we get into it, has anyone ever read Othello or watched it performed  before?” Four students raised their hands.

“Oh good! That’s more of you than I expected. Of you four, who can give us a basic plot overview? Yes, Juliet.”

“It’s about this guy and he’s like a military leader or something, and he gets married to this lady with a terrible name, but her father’s not happy about it because a) he’s black and they’re hella racist and b) this other guy Iago lies to him about it to make him mad on purpose,” Juliet spoke with her hands as much as her mouth, gesticulating more and more as she continued her explanation. 

“I think they move to an island and Iago keeps lying to everyone, and it’s a huge mess and eventually Othello kills his wife because he gets suuuper jealous and then commits suicide.” She raised her eyebrows at Hero expectantly, wide eyed and eager. 

“That’s a fantastic summary Julie, five stars.” Her classmates tittered and Juliet beamed, accepting a high five from her deskmate Rose. Hero clicked a button and the slide changed.

“As Julie was kind enough to describe for us, the play starts with the wedding of Othello and Desdemona ,” an ‘ ohhhhhhhh’ was heard from Juliet’s direction, “which is opposed by Iago, a man Othello has recently passed over for a promotion and Roderigo, who has been trying to win Desdemona’s hand for himself, with Iago’s help.

“Iago, Roderigo, and Desdemona’s father, Brabanzio, arrive at the wedding and accuse Othello of witchcraft.”

A hand goes up. “Ty?”

“Why though?” The students in his row snicker. Bianca kicks him under the desk. “ Ow, what was that for?” Bianca doesn’t respond.

“That’s actually a really good question which takes us into the next part of the lesson. Bianca, let’s save the kicking for the soccer field, yeah?” Bianca grumbles agreement, ears turning red.

“Starting the play off with a false accusation sets up one of the main themes for the play,” next slide. “Honesty— more specifically knowing who to trust and why, and how we view morality when otherwise good people do bad things operating on incorrect truths— rumors, jealousy, love, betrayal, race, and gender are all things that the play discusses in one form or another. 

“Before we start our read through, I want each of you to pick one of these themes to look for as we go through the play this unit. You can highlight things that you feel apply, annotate or take notes on a separate page, use an entire deck of sticky notes, whatever your hearts desire, but look for things you might not think about otherwise, because at the end of the unit you’ll write an essay,” general groaning and moaning, “about what you’ve found. It’s going to be a lot easier to form an effective thesis if you’re writing down your observations as we go along.”

Papers shuffled as the students scrambled to write down all the themes in their notes. Eddie Gloucester who was perpetually unprepared seemed to be writing on a used Taco Bell napkin. Hero suppressed a shiver. 

“Open your books, we’re going to read the first scene. Would we rather play popcorn or just go down the row?” It was agreed they would read popcorn style. 

“Right, we’re going to watch a clip of the opening scene being performed. Do we have any questions first?” Twenty-seven faces stared back at her, some shaking their heads in an effort to show they were listening, most simply blank. The last class of the day was always a hit or miss in the concentration department. “Oookay. This is from the 1995 version; I want you to compare how the performance is different or similar to your perception from simply reading.”

She turned the lights off and pressed play on the screen, looking out at her class. Most were paying attention, though several were napping. Ty seemed to be trying to pass Bianca a note, while Bianca diligently ignored him. 

The bell rang just at the end of the clip, and the actor’s final words were drowned out by the scraping of chairs, ruffling of papers and notebooks as the students left in mass exodus. 

Hero was erasing the board when Beatrice came in, knocking on the doorframe to announce her presence. 

“Still alive, I see.” It was their usual way of greeting one another. Hero smiled.

“They haven’t bested me yet. You didn’t have any stragglers?”

“Are you kidding? I teach APUSH, Hero. Those kids can’t get out fast enough,” she said rolling her eyes, though her expression was tinged with fondness more than exasperation. 

“Just wait until you get to one of the wars. That usually gets some attention.”

“You’d be surprised,” she said, sitting at Hero’s desk and rifling through the drawers. “Do you still keep candy in here?”

“Bottom drawer hidden in the pencil box,” she said, writing up the new date for Monday. She heard Beatrice cackle with glee. Hero smiled fondly.

“So what are your sexy, sexy plans for the weekend? Myself, I’m going to be doing some grading, followed by more grading, and, with luck, drinking.”

Hero walked back over to her desk and gathered the myriad of papers she had to take home with her, stuffing them into her bag. “Do you know, I had the same plans?” Beatrice gasped in mock surprise.

“You are kidding me?” They laughed. “Want to be miserable together?”

“I wouldn’t call it miserable…,” Beatrice scoffed disbelievingly. “I might think it but I wouldn’t say it. I did tell Perdita we could go over some lesson plans together. Is it okay if she comes?”

“The more the merrier,” Beatrice said around another mouthful of Hero’s good chocolate. 

“Fantastic,” she said, snatching the box from her cousin and putting that in her bag to, ignoring the disappointed whine from Beatrice. “If you eat all my chocolate, we won’t have any for when a real emergency comes.” 

“Fine. Killjoy.” She bounced up from the desk and walked to the door. “I have to talk to Pedro about something, but I can be at yours around 7?”

“If you come earlier we can make dinner. I have pasta.”

Beatrice closed her eyes and smiled blissfully. “And that is why you’re my favorite coworker. I’ll see you.” Hero waved as she walked out the door. 

In the hall, Hero updated Perdita on their plans on her way to the break room. For her part, the other English teacher seemed excited to be a part of ‘fun plans,’ rather than just work plans. Hero smiled at her and gave her the address. 

To her luck, Claudio was also in the break room when she walked in. He stood at the sink washing his coffee mug. Hero vaguely registered John sitting at the table in the corner pouring over a pile of papers. 

“Hey stranger,” he said with a heart-stopping smile when he looked up to see her. Heavens , but he was beautiful. And nice. And funny. And beautiful . 

“Mr. Florentino, how were your classes?” He chuckled at the formality.

“You know how Fridays are. They can’t seem to sit still for more than a few seconds. Some days I don’t know who’s more excited for the weekend, them or me.”

Hero nodded. “I can relate to that. I love teaching, but it can get to be a lot, especially when the students are just done with everything.”

“Ah, but that’s what the weekend is for! Letting off steam, relaxing, gearing up for the next week.” He winked at her good-naturedly. Hero felt her cheeks color and hoped it wasn’t too noticeable. 

“And here I was thinking it was for grading and lesson prep.” Claudio laughed heartily, (though perhaps a bit more than the joke warranted). He looked at her as he dried his mug and set it on the counter. 

“Well, a little bit. We’ve all got to make some time for fun, right?”

Hero agreed, switching spots with him at the sink. 

“Speaking of, what do your plans look like the next couple of days?” Hero’s heart veritably leapt from her chest. Was he asking her out? But then it sank. Her father wanted her for a family function on Sunday, and the entirety of Saturday was already reserved with her standing appointment. Best play it safe.

“Oh, I’m pretty busy. I’ve made plans to do grading with Bea and Perdita this evening, then the rest is booked solid,” she gave a rueful smile, hoping she conveyed the right amount of friendliness with disappointment and something that could be interpreted as hope.

Claudio gave a low whistle. “Dang, no rest for the wicked. Well, not that anyone could call you wicked by any stretch of the imagination,” he said with a small smile, inclining his head towards her.

You will not blush, you will not blush, you will not blush . She did the next worst thing: she giggled. “I don’t know about that. What does your weekend look like?”

“Grading is actually not too bad, I got a head start this week. I was going to see if anyone wanted to go out on the town, but I don’t think that’s going to work out.” 

She was definitely blushing. 

“Oh?” Her voice did not sound like a squeak, but it was close.

From the corner, she heard what could be a cough from John, but when she glanced over he was still concentrated on his grading.

“Yeah, shame. I’ll live though.” He really was devastating to look at sometimes. He gave her a gentle tap on the shoulder and Hero realized it was very warm in there. “Don’t work too hard, yeah?” He headed out the door, throwing a smile back at her. 

“Yeah,” she said belatedly, still standing at the sink and staring out the door.

She was torn from her reverie by a loud thunk . Her head whipped towards the source. John had closed his binder and was stowing it away. Hero colored more; she had forgotten he was there. She felt a little embarrassed. Surely, her attempt at flirting hadn’t been that obvious, right?

John opened the fridge to remove his items, looking up at her at the last second, eyes unimpressed, hard.

Hero suddenly found herself irritated and frowned. “What?”

“That was painful to witness.” 

Hero bristled, hands going to her hips. “It was not!” Then, she backpedaled. “And I have no idea what you are talking about.” There was no way she was about to let Grumpy John know anything about her she didn’t have to. 

He leveled her a look that seemed to say, Oh really? Hero squirmed and looked away, frown firmly in place. 

“Well don’t be too nice, I might start crying.”

To her surprise, he had the audacity to smile— smile! Or at least she interpreted the slight lifting of the corners of his mouth as a suppressed smile. He shook his head as he folded his messenger bag closed. 

“You’re teaching Othello this semester, right?” That pulled her up short.

“Uh– yeah. What does that have to do with anything?” Finished with the kitchen herself, she grabbed her bag from the counter and stuffed her dishes into it, suddenly anxious to leave.

John shrugged. “Good play.”

As she followed him to the door, John stopped and turned to her, opening his mouth as if to speak, then seemed to think better of it and left. 

How utterly bizarre.

—

Later, between a healthy amount of pasta, truly ghastly amounts of grading, and lesson plans foregone in place of a hasty round of PowerPoint party, Hero found herself thinking back to the odd interaction. 

He had been rude, dismissive, butting his head in where it was not welcome, thank you very much. And then he had just changed topics like nothing had ever happened?She drained the remainder of her wine and set her glass down on the coffee table, where Beatrice was currently drawing little cartoons on her student’s papers. 

John was… an oddball, she decided. Hero knew he didn’t get along with other teachers well, didn’t really make an effort to socialize after staff meetings or between classes. She had considered him to be something of a dark horse, not wanting to rely purely on others’ opinions to form her own, but the few interactions they’d had so far tipped her opinion of him dangerously close to ‘asshole’ territory. 

Maybe… that was just his way of acknowledging he had overstepped himself? It was possible. After all, Hero had seen worse social skills in her students— even the smartest teenagers really could be the biggest idiots sometimes— perhaps her colleague just lacked the experience to interact.

Still, she thought. He didn’t have to be such a jerk about Cl—

Hero sat bolt upright, previous train of thought forgotten. She’d been so perturbed by John’s words, she entirely forgot the very exciting reality that Claudio had (very probably) flirted with her!

“I think Claudio tried to chat me up in the break room today,” she announced, loudly. Beatrice and Perdita both snapped to attention, and any other troublesome thoughts she might have had about her day and a certain surly teacher were forgotten in the ensuing discussion.

Chapter Text

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Beatrice said as she stomped her feet free of snow in the foyer at school.

“Language,” Hero said, though she agreed with the sentiment behind it. Snow in mid-September, especially in a week that had, until this morning, been very mild, was decidedly unwelcome. 

“What? There’s not anyone here yet, I’m not corrupting any children with my language,” she grumbled back. “It’s not like I could even if I tried; you should hear some of the things my students say to each other.”

Hero didn’t need to, her own students had enough colorful language of their own. She was the teacher but her students had taught her several new words and expressions she was previously unaware of. She’d be proud if she wasn’t simultaneously scarred by it.

“Fair enough.”

It seemed everyone had arrived early out of caution, the break room was unusually packed for 7:30. 

“Where are the donuts? I was told there’d be donuts?” Ben asked loudly, to no one in particular as he shoved his way between Ophelia Young, the art teacher and Mr. Jorgensen. He gasped in dismay at the empty counter, ignoring the grumbles from the two colleagues he had just bowled over. 

Kate was already there, staring intensely at the coffee machine as it struggled to make the first pot of the day. “Who told you that, Hannah Montana?”

Ben glared at her. “ Ha, ha , Kate. You know it’s Montagna!”

She thumped the top of the machine, which sputtered loudly in protest. “You don’t say.”

Hero and Beatrice both squeezed their way through the packed room to the fridge. “I’m not sure there are going to be donuts, Ben,” Hero said gently. 

He whipped his gaze toward her, distress apparent in his eyes. “ What? ”

Beatrice was less gentle. “Donut Thursday was last week, dumbass,” she said, thunking her lunch onto the refrigerator shelf with more force than was necessary. 

“ Bea, ” Hero adjured in a soft voice. That was a bit much even for those two, especially first thing in the morning. End of the day? Fine; they’ve both had time to wind each other up. But right off the bat? The tension did not bode well for anyone caught in the crossfire. 

Thankfully, Ben, in his donut-deprived state, only growled his frustration before walking to the opposite end of the room and rummaging through the lost and found cabinet for unclaimed snacks. 

“I see it’s a bit early for all of us,” a light tone commented from behind them. Hero turned to see Claudio, empty mug in hand, smiling at her good-naturedly. She couldn’t help but grin back.

“I can’t imagine the weather is helping much either,” she said. 

“What, is it cold today?” He asked in a mock-surprise tone, unwinding the thick scarf from around his neck and placing it on a chair. “I hadn’t noticed.” 

Hero and several others laughed; Beatrice made a half-attempted snort but her heart apparently wasn’t in it. She was now standing next to Kate at the coffee machine, tapping her foot with impatience.

Hero looked up, up at Claudio. Lordy, he was tall. Was she batting her eyelashes a lot? It felt like she was batting her eyelashes a lot. She made a brief, conscious effort to stop but had to resume when her eyes dried out and just hoped for a normal appearance.   

Claudio looked over at the growing coffee line. “Machine not working, I take it?”

Mr. Jensen— Hamlet— replied before Hero could. “It’s working, just not to the desired speed.” The poor Algebra teacher looked a tad haunted, and Hero wondered exactly how much of Kate’s wrath she had missed before coming in. 

A cheer went up at the counter, and they all turned in unison to see the old machine spew out the rest of the coffee it had evidently been hoarding while an eager group of teachers hovered like starving lions over an injured gazelle. Everyone went to line up before the entire thing was used up, clamoring to get to the front of the line. 

Hero, having had a cup already at home, decided it was safer to stay where she was by the windows. Really, she could afford to wait until her break between second and third periods to get a refill. However, as she turned to leave she felt a hand on her arm stopping her. She looked up to see Claudio, a strange expression in his eyes. 

“Hey, would you actually have time to discuss something with me later?” He ran his hand through his hair in a way that seemed somehow incredibly cool. 

Hero swallowed the butterflies threatening to escape her stomach. Be cool. “Sure, no problem. Can do.” She winced. “What did you want to discuss?”

He let out a (relieved?) breath and smiled at her. “Oh, it can wait until later. Catch you at lunch?”

What could she do but smile back?

As she made her way to her classroom she intentionally didn’t notice that a certain dark-haired calculus teacher had not been in the breakroom, and she was careful to take no note that his classroom door was firmly shut, too consumed with excitement for that afternoon to care. 

—

Morning classes were Hero’s favorite to teach. Not because she favored those students in particular over those in her later classes, (absolutely not, there were a mix of delightful kids and… kids who required more patience in morning and afternoon classes) but rather because nobody had enough time to be burnt out on learning yet. First through fourth periods (those before lunchtime) almost always flowed smoother and had fewer disruptions and fewer sleeping students. 

Today however, Hero found herself anxious to get through them. She was driven to distraction wondering what Claudio could want to talk to her about. If it was work related, why hadn’t he asked her that morning? It was possible he hadn’t thought they would have enough time to discuss. But the way he had asked her, her alone, pulling her aside privately, his face almost nervous. 

And if it were work related, what on earth could it be? He was the 9th and 10th grade world history teacher and the girls’ soccer coach. Hero taught junior and senior English. Unless he wanted to pick her brain about teaching how to properly format essays— which was entirely plausible now that she thought about it, but then, why ask Hero instead of Perdita who taught many of his students anyway— it had to be personal, right?

The ringing of the bell snaps her out of it. 

Focus Hero , she thinks. It’s not fair to them if you’re distracted . Shaking off her thoughts of Claudio, Hero pulls up the presentation for that day. They’re on Act II, Scene I of Othello, which everyone was supposed to read in preparation. 

She claps her hands together. “Alright, who’s ready for the second act? Some of you? Great! This’ll be fun.” Hero clicks to her first slide. It’s a meme that took her longer than she’ll ever admit to her students to make. It’s received with medium laughter, only some of it pitying. Shock value that you have a sense of humor at all goes much further when you’re a teacher.

“Not a lot happens in this scene, it’s mainly setup for the rest of the story. But there are a couple things I want us to talk about today. Can anyone give me a synopsis of what happens?”

It’s Mia who answers this time. “Everyone gets to the island, the Turkish fleet already sank so that’s not a problem anymore, Othello and Desdemona are really into each other, and Iago lies a lot, sewing the seeds of chaos.” She takes a sip of her Starbucks iced coffee. Of all the days to get iced coffee , Hero thinks. At least she wasn’t late.

“Awesome, thank you. Anyone have anything to add?”

Julie, not to be outdone, raises her hand. “Iago uses Roderigo to start a fight with Cassio and get him removed, and he tells the audience he plans to drive Othello mad.” Julie seems to almost resist throwing a not-so-subtle ‘take that’ expression at Mia. 

“Also important details!” Hero says, clicking to the next slide. 

They spend the next 30 minutes discussing characters, what they think is being foreshadowed, and symbolism. Before dismissing the class to pack up, Hero gives them her discussion question, pulling the meme from before back up. 

“Why do we think Shakespeare introduced the idea of an invading fleet in the previous scene only to immediately kill them off?”

“Plot device,” Ty fake coughs into his fist.

“Could be, yes. Shakespeare was known to ascribe to character types and tropes of the period just like modern authors do. However, I want you to think a little deeper than that. 

“As we go along, pay attention to what happens offstage – why did shakespeare exclude some scenes while showing others? Is it just for ease of production (kinda hard to depict pirates on a 16th century stage) or is it for another reason? 

“What do we gain from being told instead of shown , specifically within the context of this play?” Hero finishes as the bell releases them from her care and they all scramble to move onto their next class, the next group of students shuffling in behind them.

—

Not five minutes after the lunch bell rings, Claudio is standing in front of her desk as Hero pulls out the quizzes for her afternoon classes. He raps his knuckles on her desk and gives her a boyish grin. 

Of course his teeth are perfect too , she thinks. 

“Now a good time for that talk?” He asks her.

Hero nods while tucking her hair behind her ears. “I’ll admit, you’ve got me very curious as to what you need from me.”

Claudio’s smile turns towards a smirk as he leans slightly against her desk. “Well,” he starts, and she can just get a hint of whatever soap he’s using and oh does this man smell amazing, “I wouldn’t say it’s what I need from you, exactly.” 

Hero swallows, fighting down the blush she knows is turning her ears pink. “Oh?” She gets out.

“Do you remember that conversation we had last Friday about letting off steam on the weekends?” Of course she does. Hero had thought about that little interaction for hours. After thinking about her much stranger interaction with John . 

“I might,” she says coyly.

“That’s reassuring,” he laughs. He’s got a great laugh. “Guess I’ll just cut straight to it: I want you to go out with me.” 

Hero is jaw-droppingly shocked. Noticing her mouth is actually open she hastily shuts it. A smile tugs its way on her mouth until she is full-on grinning. “Do you, now?’

“Yes.”

Her brow ticks up playfully.

“On a date. Just so we’re clear.”

“What would we be doing?”

“I have these tickets to a comedy show at The Red Lion on Saturday. Would that be something you’re interested in?” It would. She tells him so. In short succession they’ve exchanged numbers and arranged to work out more of the details later in the week. 

He turns around as he’s walking out the door, tall figure leaning gracefully against the frame. “I hope you know I really like you, Hero. This isn’t… I don’t want this to just be a one-time thing.”

She smiles. “I think we can work something out.”

As she makes her way to grab her food from the break room she grabs a fistful of chocolate from her emergency drawer. Beatrice will definitely want to hear about this.

Chapter Text

Claudio picked her up from her apartment— where Beatrice and Perdita were definitely not watching through the blinds after helping Hero get ready for hours— at 7pm sharp that Saturday so they could grab dinner beforehand. The show didn’t start until 8:30, but while The Red Lion had snacks, Claudio wanted to buy her dinner first.

“Can’t have you hungry and bored with me,” he said, turning the key in the ignition and throwing a wink at her.

“Will I have a reason to be bored?” She asked coyly, inwardly accepting that she would likely just be unusually pink throughout the evening.

“I hope not.” He looked over at her, gorgeous blue eyes piercing into hers, and said in a low voice: “I’ll certainly try my best not to give you one.”

Yep. Definitely pinker than usual.

Dinner was fine, but she didn’t pay it much attention, her concentration split between the high of being there with Claudio and trying to not fixate too much on the eating itself.

“So do you go to this comedy club a lot?” Hero said, tearing off a small piece of her bread roll and popping it into her mouth.

Claudio smirks boyishly. Oh, he has dimples. “Are you asking me if I come here often?”

“Yikes, that is what I asked, isn’t it?” She laughs nervously, hand coming up to cover her cheek. Claudio’s own laugh is delightful and rich.

“No, no, I get it. You know I don’t think I’ve ever actually been asked that by anyone? You’ve given me a new experience.”

“I’m so glad,” she replies drily. “Do you, though?”

He tilts his head to the side, considering. “I like to go when I can,” he says. “It’s not as fun to go by myself though,” Hero feels a fluttering in her stomach as he looks into her eyes, his gaze warm. “It’s better going with someone worth my time.”

Hero has to look away as she smiles at this, lest she actually melt. You know, dinner isn’t that scary after all, Hero decides.

The club is in a part of town Hero is not familiar with. She might generously say it has character, though Beatrice would term it (more accurately) a ‘shit show.’ Claudio must have seen the hesitation on her face because suddenly his arm is draped carefully across her shoulders.

“I know how it looks,” he whispers close to her ear, “but it’s not so bad once you get inside.” Was she thinking it was cold and scary? Clearly it was unseasonably warm, and if you really look at the place, it has a lot of charm.

Inside is much better. Mismatched chairs are speckled throughout the room in varying groups, some around equally mismatched tables. A low stage stands at the far end of the room, and the whole place is bathed in warm yellow light.

Claudio removes his arm from her shoulders to show their tickets at the desk, and Hero can’t help the twinge of loss she feels. But then his hand is on her back guiding them towards a group of plush seats. They’re about to sit at a loveseat but someone else takes it. Claudio tenses, anger flashing in his eyes, but it’s gone just as soon as it came. They sit at a table instead and the chairs are pulled closer together.

The comedian– a guy who looks somewhere in his late twenties or early thirties dressed in a flannel and ripped cargo pants– is… not that good, in Hero’s opinion. His jokes are fine, on the whole, she guesses, but some of them make her feel uneasy. They remind her of the kind of jokes that made her uncomfortable as a youth, skin crawling and stomach squirming for reasons she couldn’t exactly place. She swallows, even as everyone laughs.

She isn’t really there for the comedy though. By the end of the show, all that really stands out to her is Claudio’s laugh, almost as if in slow motion, and his hand resting softly and familiarly on her thigh.

State testing was coming up in a few weeks, faster than students and teachers alike would appreciate, and today was the first real prep day. Messina Charter was well-funded to begin with; unlike some other institutions, they did not want for money. However, accreditation was a gem long coveted by its board of governors, and Principal Don Pedro was determined that this would be the year, and the means by which it would be obtained were through wowing the academic community with a near-flawless performance. Thus, test prep.

The previous year saw a student body performance “ill-befitting the school’s glowing record and the potential each of you has,” (flowery words of disappointment from Principal Don Pedro). As such, the administration felt it best to kick preparations off with an assembly of such magnitude, it required (for some unfathomable reason) a 2 hour late-start. What the assembly would cover, or how exactly it would help teachers or students beyond providing a general atmosphere of “yay mandatory testing,” was as yet, a mystery.

Consequently, that Monday morning rolled around only to be greeted by a grim-countenanced faculty. This, despite Don Pedro’s assurances to the contrary, would not be a fun, “learn-tacular” day, and nobody was looking forward to it. It might have been a nice reprieve for teachers if they were able to come in late as well, and if it didn’t also cost them valuable class time preparing the kids for tests that would actually reflect on their grades. Not to mention, high schoolers always get more rowdy than usual following any interruption to their typical schedule, the thrill of irregularity destroying the small sense of order that kept the school in balance. All in all, the day promised to be a veritable nightmare.

At least Antonio promised there would be breakfast provided at the staff meeting before the day began.

Hero sits in her car far longer than usual before going in, attempting to school her expression into one appropriate for the mood, or at the very least something bland enough to be inscrutable. Much as she liked her friends and coworkers, she wasn’t ready to share her weekend with them just yet. She wanted to keep it for herself, even for just a few hours longer. The only person she really cared to tell at all was Beatrice, and that could wait till lunch when there was appropriate time to freak out.

Normally, it wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for her to be smilier than those around her, but today would be conspicuous and Hero just knew that if some teachers (read: Kate) saw someone looking overly chipper, they’d make it their business to sniff out the cause for the offending joy.

In waiting a few minutes extra before entering, she also hoped to miss walking in alongside any of her fellow teachers. The parking lot seemed empty of people, the only cars in sight empty. Steeling herself, Hero takes a deep breath, gathers her things, and walks toward the building.

She runs into John as she reaches the door– literally.

“Ouch,” he says flatly, bending to pick up the keep-cup of coffee that’s just spilled all over his trousers.

“Oh– shit! Sor– I am so sorry!!” Hero rushes to help before realizing there’s not much for her to do without napkins, a hair dryer, or a time machine. She stands before him, wringing her hands. “Seriously, I don’t know how I didn’t see you there, I am really, really–”

“Sorry?” John says, straightening and raising an eyebrow.

Hero tenses and looks up to his face, but finds that despite his tone, and her having just spilled hot liquid all over him, he looks almost… amused? As amused as a person can look without actually smiling, anyway.

“Er, yeah,” she says, almost returning his with a hopeful smile of her own.

John looks her over with apparent scrutiny, and Hero resists the urge to shiver. The morning is colder than she anticipated.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, and walks in the front door before she can finish, not bothering to hold it open as she trails behind him.

By the time she reaches the meeting room full of chattering teachers, there is only one place left, in the corner– Beatrice’s overly large bag sitting on the seat like a gargoyle. She lifts it onto the floor as she spies Hero.

Hero rushes to the seat, carefully avoiding looking at anyone or anything else. She will be fully seated and prepared before blushing, she is determined.

The room is tense, she realizes, after shedding her coat. Looking around, she sees a formidable pile of booklets of some kind on and around the table by the back wall. Craning her neck, she can just make out the words “state” and “success” on one of the covers.

“What is all this?” Hero whispers to her friend, drawing one of the printed meeting itineraries towards her and glancing over it. It is characteristically unhelpful.
“What is ‘synergistic prepping’?”

Beatrice’s eyes roll with a zeal usually only reserved for Ben. “Not a damn clue.”

Her colleagues appear equally perplexed around the table. A few people to Beatrice’s left, Perdita has a notepad and pen ready to go. Beyond her, Ben is folding his itinerary into a paper hat and Kate is watching in between scrolling on her phone. On the very opposite end, sitting next to a rather put-out looking John, is Claudio. He’s reclined in his seat, somehow making the uncomfortable office chair look cool and natural, and has apparently been waiting for her to look at him. He winks at her.

Hero blushes, right on cue and sends him a shy smile and waving. Their date went well, all things considered. She had made it through with minimal babbling, some high-grade flirting (on his part at least), and a touch of hand-holding. His hands had been shockingly soft; her eyes dropping to them briefly as she recalled exactly how they had felt brushing over her arm as he leaned in to whisper something to her.

“If I didn’t know better I’d think you went overboard on the blush this morning,” Beatrice says, quietly so only Hero hears her.

Hero’s eyes snap to her paper in front of her. Focus, girl, she admonishes herself. She hears a chuckle from beside her, which cuts off when she jabs her elbow surreptitiously into her friend’s side.

“Alright, it looks like everyone is finally here, so we can go ahead and start,” Antonio, the Vice Principal says in a loud voice as the projector whirs to life.

“Remember, there are refreshments in the breakroom for after the meeting,” he says directly to Ben, who had made to push his chair back from the table at the mention of food, “and let’s all keep an open mind. Don Pedro, the floor is yours!” The man finishes with dramatic flair.

Pedro is tall, jovial, and charming, if not a bit over enthusiastic at times. This morning, he seems taller and more upbeat than ever, gesturing with his cartoonish pointer towards the screen behind him. They’re using Apple slides, Hero winces.

“Friends! Good morning!” There’s a grumbled chorus of ‘morning’s from around the table. “I know it’s a bit earlier than is strictly necessary–” an understatement if there ever was one– “but I thank you all in advance for being willing to be here as we talk about…” He presses the spacebar on his laptop, revealing a hideous slide titled ‘Comprehensive 82-Step Plan to Ace State Testing and Acquire Accreditation.’

A chorus of groans echoes around the table. It is going to be a long morning.

She glances over to Claudio once more, and delights in the commiserating frown they share. Beside him, Hero purposefully ignores the way John rolls his eyes.

Pedro’s chipper voice reads out the first step. “Okay, so! Student attendance…”

The meeting was not going well. After a truly painful presentation– both in terms of its absolute lack of flair or graphic design and content– the ‘questions, comments, concerns’ part of the meeting had quickly devolved into a jumble of complaints and shouts that were quickly becoming an all-out screaming match.

“How are we supposed to implement this monster of a plan and still get through our lessons? You know, the thing the kids actually come here to learn?” Kate demanded.

“I can barely get the kids to focus as it is.”

“What if we can’t get through all the material in time? Surely, it’s not mandatory?”

“What about their extracurriculars? You can’t just suspend soccer until after the testing, that’s weeks away! They have their first match coming up after that!”

“Yeah, we gotta consider how this will affect the rest of their school year, man. I mean, three weeks is a lot of course material to miss out on.” Ben added. Hero has to agree here. Three whole weeks of very rich discussion material, writing exercises, and carefully crafted slides were a lot to give up, for her and her students.

“As if he ever gets through course material,” Beatrice muttered to Hero, who shot her a look that clearly said ‘is this the time?’ which she dutifully ignored.

“Okay, okay, I never said you wouldn’t get to teach the scheduled curriculum, just that a majority of the class time should go to working through the preparatory booklets for each subject!” Pedro reasoned over the din.

“That’s ridiculous! These tests don’t even count towards their actual grades, and we’re at a crucial part of the semester! You can’t really expect us to sacrifice three entire weeks of work– yes it would be sacrificing, teenagers are not going to sit through and absorb an hour’s worth of information in only thirty minutes with any kind of permanence– just for a slightly increased likelihood of accreditation?” Sometimes Hero forgot just how intelligent her best friend was. Clever quips and rejoinders were one thing, but in a bind, Beatrice wasn’t just witty, she was eloquent. Beside her, Kate looked a little impressed. (So did Ben, for that matter, which was saying something.)

Eloquence and all, Pedro was not pleased with this.

“Look,” he began. “We’ll get accredited if it takes a miracle and a half, if I have to work four times as hard as usual, if the very ground opens up and swallows the building!” Pedro said, a patriotic tear shining in the corner of his eye.

“Dare to dream,” said Kate under her breath. Laughs went up around the table, the more tactful people trying to muffle them behind a cough.

Pedro glared at Beatrice, whose arms were folded across her chest, chin stuck out at a defiant angle.

“That is not helpful, Ms. Minola.”

Kate seemed unmoved by his reprimand, taking a swig of her coffee– when did she have time to go get that?

Beatrice took the floor again.

“Look, I know we want to do well and that the board is itching for accreditation, but don’t you think that this,” here she gestured to the group of teachers there far after hours, the stacks upon stacks of prep booklets heaped around the room, “is a bit much?”

Pedro’s jaw clenched as he matched her posture. “I don’t think any measure is too much in the pursuit of academic excellence.” A snort from the opposite end of the table drew Hero’s eye, and she saw that it was John. Unlike the rest of them, John had made no attempt to question Pedro’s proposed plan.

This was a bit much, even for Pedro, and it was clear to see everyone was getting tired. Beatrice especially. She took a breath, looking for all the world ready to go toe to toe with the man, only for Hero to cut her off before she could say anything.

“I think what Beatrice is getting at,” Hero says calmly, drawing the attention away from what had just appeared to be a fight. Under the table she places a reassuring hand on Beatrice’s knee. “Is that the students are just kids.”

Pedro’s hackles lowered, turning his attention to her. Hero felt the weight of the room’s gazes upon her.

“We all want the kids to do well on the tests, but maybe pushing them this hard,” she continued, looking to the stacks leaning against the wall like film gangsters, ready to start a turf war, “will only end up being counterproductive.”

Grudgingly, Pedro considers, then agrees. Another twenty minutes of discussion, most of it useful, sees a new plan: each teacher will partner with another to go through the testing booklet with students during a specific hour every other day. While this does include a lot of planning and coordination outside of work, it was the best solution they could get their Principal in Chief to agree with.

“And this shall be regardless of subject. It’ll be tight, but it’ll keep the students on track for testing and course work,” he announces finally. His voice still sounds eager, but his posture says this meeting has been as draining for him as it has for the rest of the faculty.

Good, Hero thinks, already weary of the extra hours outside work that lay in her future. Across the table, Claudio meets her gaze again.

Then again, if they get to pick our own partners, this may not be so bad. As Antonio dismisses all of them, Hero gathers her things quickly. Claudio is already at the door, and if she hurries, there’s just enough time before classes start for them to talk again.

A hand on her shoulder prevents this. Turning, Beatrice meets her confused look with a raised eyebrow.

“Uh-uh, missy. You owe me details.”

Hero glances back to the door, where Claudio disappeared and more of their coworkers try to cram through the door. She sighs, but rallies. There’s always lunch break. Besides, she is eager to talk about this with someone.

“Okay, but they’re going to be fast.” She begins filling her in as they walk towards their classrooms.

On their way through the break room, they see another slap in the face: the post-meeting refreshments are pre-packaged gas station muffins. 

They both groan. 

"Damn, could this day get any worse?" Silently, Hero hopes otherwise as she guides her cousin to the safety of her classroom, so she can finish relating the events of her date.

Chapter Text

In the name of fairness, it was decided that partners would be assigned by Antonio. 

“This is just so there are no hard feelings among any of the staff, and so that we get an even spread of effort and talent!” Antonio told them, tapping his nose for emphasis.

“This is some grade-A bullshit, is what it is,” Kate mumbled. She, Beatrice, Perdita, and Hero sat together around a table in the teacher’s lounge at the end of the day.

“It’s like they forget we’re the teachers, not students.” Perdita noted, scribbling something on one of the papers she was grading, dropping it onto the growing pile of finished papers.

“Tell me about it; I suddenly feel a bit more empathetic for all the group projects I’ve assigned.” Hero’s own grading was going slower. 

The students were supposed to write three paragraphs on their chosen theme within Othello. What she was currently reading was a mixture of genuine efforts, obvious uses of chatGPT (despite her instructions that they be hand-written), and two students who had somehow confused Othello with Midsummer Night’s Dream and debated the likelihood that Shakespeare ever took psychedelics. She made a note to go over the class AI policy on a post-it.

“I hate this.” Kate said flatly, scrolling on her laptop, occasionally stopping to type a comment in one of the assignments there. 

Beatrice made a sound like a snort that she probably intended as a comforting sound. Kate had been paired with Ben. “You have my deepest sympathies.”

“It’s not that I don’t like Ben,” she said to dubious looks, “I just don’t like them making demands on my time and how I teach my curriculum.” 

“The debate teacher does not enjoy being told what to do. Imagine that.” Perdita said, and they all chuckled. Beatrice only hummed and went back to her own work.

Their assigned partners had been sent via group text.

The conversation visible on Beatrice’s open laptop read:

Pedro (not) Pascal: Hey team! Great work today collaborating on a plan that we can all agree with. In the interest of making sure our resources are allocated to the most effect, partnerships will be assigned by Vice Principal Bardot. Thank you in advance for your cooperation and effort. We are going to crush this testing season!

AnTONYo-the-tiger: [pdf file attached]

• Kate Minola and Benedick Montagna
• Beatrice Leone and Ophelia Young
• Claudio Florentino and Perdita Shepherd
• Cordelia Leary and Hamlet Jensen
• Hero Agosti and John Fitzroy
• … [open document for more]

AnTONYo-the-tiger: 🙂

Ben There Done That: Ew, why you gotta full-name me, Tony?

O-o-phelia: I must agree with Ben here, it’s not like there’s more than one of us. We all know who you’re talking about if you just say “ben.” Or “leah.”

Me: It’s because your name is just so fitting Ben. Accurate description of your personality.

Me: Leah, you are exempt from this narrative.

Pedro (not) Pascal: Let’s keep this civil please Ms. Leone. We’re all on the same team.

Hero was undeniably disappointed to not be paired with Claudio. Once she had a moment to think things over though, she was more confused by Antonio’s choice than anything. Was this really to maximize efficiency? Keeping Beatrice and Ben apart certainly seemed to attest to that, but Kate was not much better in that area. Then again, her barbs tended more towards neutral or even good-natured when compared to Beatrice’s. That was how Kate was with pretty much everyone. Ben was just easy to rile up. 

But why couldn’t she work with Claudio? Though, in fairness, it’s not as if Antonio knew they had begun dating– okay, we’re not dating, we’ve been on a date. But I would love to go on another one. And if he were aware, that may well be more reason to keep them separate until the proper paperwork could be filed with HR. 

Not that they were dating or anything. 

“Do you think we could ask to swap partners? You know, in the interest of working with teachers whose planning styles we’re more familiar with?” Hero suggested carefully. 

“That could be a good—” Perdita’s remark was cut off by a ding on Beatrice’s open laptop.

Pedro (not) Pascal: As I have already been approached on the subject, let me clarify that we will NOT be swapping partners. You can work with your colleagues as assigned. We’re all adults. Let’s act like it.

“Or maybe not,” she finished, shooting Hero an apologetic look. Maybe Hero wasn’t as casual with her suggestion as she thought. 

Beatrice flips off the screen. “I swear it’s like he’s listening to us.”

Kate nods, not looking up. “Freaky.”

“I’m guessing you heard the bad news about not switching partners?” Claudio asked as he smoothly pulled a chair up to her desk at the end of the day.

Hero looked up, smiling in pleasant surprise. She hadn't heard him come in. "I did. Some of us were taking bets at lunch over who cracked and asked first."

His teeth were so white and straight when he smiled, they practically sparkled like a cartoon. He held his hands up in a you got me motion. "Don't hold it against me."

Hero's eyebrows rose. "You did it?"

Claudio's smile turned sheepish, and Hero couldn't help but notice (she really tried not to) how his arm flexed beneath his shirt as he rubbed the back of his neck. 

"Had to, couldn’t let the cutest girl in school get stuck with the emo kid,” he said, winking. Her face warmed and she reached out to playfully swat at him—oh it was so nice to be able to touch him. 

“Hey be nice, John’s not emo."

"No," he said seriously. "He couldn't pull off the eyeliner." Hero giggled, for a moment so distracted by the sudden image that sentence created, and almost said she may disagree, before catching herself. Who cares what John would look like in eyeliner?

"Stop," she said, and distantly she could hear just how like some of her students she was sounding. "That's my partner you're talking about there."

"Just until November. I'm hoping to be here a lot longer than that." Claudio said, leaning in as he rested his arm on her desk.

God, they had to fix the heating system in this school, Hero's face was far too hot. "Oh?" she said, softly.

"Of course. This girl I'm seeing hasn't let me kiss her yet," Claudio replied, so softly. 

Hero's smile was just as soft. "Maybe give her some time. You'll probably grow on her."

"Yeah?" he said, one eyebrow raised playfully, still smiling.

"Yeah," she responded. On the desktop, her fingers brushed against his, and he turned his hand to twine their fingers together. His eyes, so blue, were heavy with something as they stared for a loaded moment. Hero's heart fluttered as Claudio opened his mouth, inhaling.

"Hero..." he began softly.

The door to the classroom banged open as John practically fell into the room backwards, swearing. His arms were laden with the stupid workbooks Hero had neglected to bring from the meeting earlier. 

"Agosti, I brought the materials—" he looked up, immediately clocking what Hero now realized must look like a very intimate scene.

"Oh."

For about three seconds it was painfully, dreadfully quiet as all three looked between the other two. John looked mildly constipated, his mouth drawn into a thin line as he stared blankly between Hero and Claudio. Claudio, Hero noticed, looked absolutely red in the face as well. He must be embarrassed too, she thought. Ears burning she quickly pulled her hand away, tucking a non-existent stray hair behind her ear.

"John!" She said too loudly. Everyone winced a little. "Hey, sorry, John. Workbooks, thank you, yes. Good. Um—you can just set them...there," she trailed off as John unceremoniously set the books down on one of the desks nearest the door and looked to her, sparing only the briefest glance for Claudio. It was silent another beat, then:

"Oh! My phone number. Do you have it? Like from the group chat. For the lesson planning. Communicating. Unless you'd rather not. Just do it at work, I mean. The planning." Oh, she was going to burn right through the floor and descend all the way to hell with how hot her face was. Damn those nameless hvac technicians. 

Claudio put a reassuring hand on her arm, his palm warm and heavy, opening his mouth to say something, but once more, John cut him off.

"I don't have anyone's contact saved except Pedro's."

"Right. Um, phone then?" She held out an only slightly sweaty hand for his phone. He crossed the room in two steps, handing her his unlocked phone. As she punched her contact in and then texted herself, she swore she could feel Claudio's eyes on her, but when she looked up to give the phone back to its owner, his eyes were reproving John, who pocketed the phone.

"Much as I'd like to stay for another lesson in hyperbaton, I want to go home." He turned and walked out the door as abruptly as he entered, shooting only the briefest wave in her direction. 

The second he was out of sight, Hero deflated, putting her head on her desk. Mercifully, Claudio only seemed amused at the whole situation. 

"Aren't you excited to work with that guy the next two months?" He said, gently stroking her hair from her forehead. She turned her face up to see him better. Claudio was smiling at her softly. From her angle resting on her hands, he appeared to be backlit by the fluorescents. Truly, it was incredible that they did not make him look sallow or ill as they did most people.

He looked like an angel.

"Would you like to go get dinner?" Hero asked him, her mouth curving up hopefully.

His answering grin was the cure her previous embarrassment needed. "Yeah."

Forty minutes later, over a table of the finest chips and sandwiches that the deli across the street could provide, Hero exchanged laughter and more smiles with Claudio as he told her about some of his most embarrassing moments. She thought she must be glowing with how much fun they were having. Claudio looked every bit as pleased as she felt.

"I do have one question though," he said at last, wiping his hands on a paper napkin as Hero stacked their plates.

"What?"

"What does 'hyper-baton' mean?"

Hero's laugh was like melodic bells to Claudio as she gave a longer explanation than needed for the rhetorical device.

Chapter Text

Hero was still floating off the emotional high of having dinner with Claudio last night when she arrived at work the next morning. Antonio, in addition to selecting teaching partners, had gotten Pedro to agree to a Tuesday and Thursday schedule for the testing review, rather than Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. How exactly he accomplished this Hero did not know, but she and all her coworkers were grateful.

“It’s still a pain that we have to sacrifice first period, but at least we have the other days to catch up,” Hero told Perdita in the break room before school started. Perdita was having a hard time getting her mind around the schedule for the next two months. 

“All we’re going to be doing is playing catch up!” 

“I want it known that I hate the plan anyways,” Ben announced, sweeping his arms wide as if making a decree.

“It’s known.” Beatrice said flatly.

Perdita paid them no heed. “And my first period students were the only ones who weren’t behind schedule. Now what am I supposed to do?” She put her hands in her head and groaned.

“Look on the bright side,” Ben leaned toward her from his table, tone implying he was being wholly serious, “at least they’ll all be on the same level now.”

Beatrice swatted him in the arm, but Perdita looked up. “I hadn’t thought of that! Actually, that kind of helps. Thanks Ben.”

Ben, for his part, took the gratitude humbly, bowing dramatically in front of her plastic chair. “I live to serve, Lady Perdie.”

“Ugh, you ruined it,” she said, laughing.

“What, no nicknames?”

“Nicknames are fine, just not that one. It sounds like ‘purdy,’ I feel like I’m in a performance of Oklahoma. No thank you.”

“Noted,” Ben smiled at Perdita as he got up, dusting off his pants.

“Beatrice, you look distracted. Something on your mind?”

The woman in question started from where she had been watching the interaction—with an expression that progressed from scoffing to something soft and almost fond—scrambling for something to pull from her bag as Perdita and Ben turned toward her. 

“Just- looking for my, ah, chapstick! Where is it…” she mumbled, searching more vigorously than necessary before pulling out the plastic tube. “Found it.”

“Yay,” Ben said, turning back to his own table and putting an earbud in.

The second he was out of eyeline, Beatrice glared at Hero. Hero looked back innocently, eyes wide and a shit-eating grin on her face. “Gotta stay moisturized with this weather.”

Under her breath, Beatrice whispered “I hate you.”

Hero smiled. “You’re my best friend too!” She replied just as softly before turning back to Perdita. “The important thing to remember though, is that its just two months. Two months! And you won’t be teaching the testing curriculum on your own.”

Beatrice nodded, smoothing chapstick over her lips. “That is one good thing I’ll say about the whole ‘partners’ thing. Is it stupid to pair us up randomly regardless of subject? Of course. But we do get to split the work of test prep.”

“Not to mention the students get the added perspective of multiple teachers.”

“That’s not necessarily a ‘pro’ in all cases, Hero,” Kate chimed in from the counter. She was stirring an unholy amount of sugar into her coffee. 

“Ah yes,” Beatrice swirled in Kate’s direction sensing a kindred spirit. “Poor Kate, stuck with the pseudo-science sports teacher. Have you done any lesson planning yet?”

Kate took a pull from her mug before answering. “No.”

“Claudio and I are meeting to go over things at lunch,” Perdita said. Hero’s heart did a little somersault at the mention of his name. “We have different teaching styles, but I think we can do well together once we take time to discuss.” Watching Beatrice and Ben or Kate and Ben could be fun sometimes, but when the two ganged up on the third, it became a little too contentious. Especially for Perdita, the softest of souls. She was basically raised in a flower meadow though, so she came by the peacemaking honestly. 

Hero was of a similar mind this morning.

“I’m meeting with John after school today.” That was the wrong move, however, as Kate turned to Hero now with a new target.

“Right, I forgot you got partnered with John the Dick.”

“Language,” Perdita said.

“Not very nice,” Hero mumbled.

“He’s more of an asshole,” Beatrice put.

“My partner John is an effective teacher and our coworker,” Hero said. 

“You do have to admit he’s rude though,” Beatrice rinsed her cup in the sink, setting it to dry. 

“And grumpy,” Perdita added. Hero shot her a betrayed look. Perdita raised her palms, shrugging. “He often is.”

“Yes, and a dick.” Kate finished.

“Why are we even- you know what, I’m going to get ready for class. My second-to-last normal first period class until December. So thanks.”

“Just commiserating,” Kate said. 

“More like being a dick yourself,” Hero muttered on her way out the door. Everyone was just stressed this morning. Sure, John could be brusque, maybe a little surly. Alright, and rude–she recalled his mock of her that time he caught her and Claudio flirting. Then again, Kate and Beatrice got away with more outrageous, even aggressive things on the daily. John was just… quiet. It’s easier to forgive bad manners in a person when they have instances of politeness for you to compare them with. 

Hero wondered what made John so standoffish. He was almost bizarre in his underreactions. One moment almost wholly indifferent, the next unimpressed and unafraid to let it be seen. Still, he had yet to be outright antagonistic to her, or anyone else she’d heard of, for that matter. She just didn’t know how to predict his behavior, or how well they would work together as a team. He was a wild card, for sure. 

This is going to be a successful two months, she promised herself. It has to be. 

For the kids.

The day passed relatively uneventfully. Pedro had asked them not to share the impending schedule change with the students until Monday, so it was business as usual for the most part. The only issue with that plan was the looming omen formed by the bright yellow testing booklets stacked in most classrooms. Some teachers (Hero among them, thank you very much) had thought ahead enough to hide them in cabinets or under other books, but most just left them out in the open at the back of the classroom. This, apparently, was the cause of some distress in Claudio’s 5th period class. 

“They were like a dog with a bone,” he told her as she packed up to go meet with John. Claudio had stopped by the second her classroom had cleared after the final bell. “Absolutely relentless. ‘Are we having a test?’ ‘Do we have to read the whole things?’ ‘What are these for?’ ‘Six seven.’ That’s not even a question, they just say it every effing day.”

Hero chuckled, coiling her laptop charger to fit in her bag. “The internet is a magical place. It’s just also cursed.”

“Tell me about it,” Claudio leaned back against the bookshelf by her desk. “So… do you have any weekend plans beyond your planning meeting tonight?” He looked up at her through his lashes, a boyish smile spreading across his face. Hero blushed accordingly.

“Not at present. That might change,” she said. 

“Oh?” Claudio leaned toward her. 

“Depends.” 

“On what?” Truly, he must have the most beautiful smile Hero has ever seen. If they lived in the Romantic era, some sappy poet would doubtless write odes to it. Not that Hero had thought about it. 

She was never much of a poet anyways.

“On whether you ask me out again,” Hero replied, smiling and biting her lip. She felt so proud she was able to sound so smooth, mentally patting herself on the back. A quieter thought hoped she didn’t look foolish doing it.

“Funny you should say that. I was going to see if you were free to go see a movie tomorrow.”

“I’ll check my calendar.” She grinned, zipping her bag shut. “Looks like I’m free whenever. But I do have a meeting to get to right now.”

“Busy lady,” he smiled. “I can text you the details tomorrow.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

Due to its being a charter school, albeit a very well-funded one, the faculty desks in each classroom were different. Hero was fortunate enough to have a proper desk with drawers and a lock on it. Real plywood, too, none of that plastic stuff. John’s desk was more like an oversized table—a squashed rectangle too small to be a picnic table but too large to be a side table. No drawers.

Currently resting on top of it were John’s students’ test workbooks, neatly stacked in the middle, and a plaque with his name on it: ‘Mr. Fitzroy.’ 

Hero hasn’t really been in here before. It’s nice. Very tidy, the desks are separated into straight rows and there are evenly spaced paper rectangles with various formulas and definitions on the walls above the whiteboards which line every vertical surface that doesn’t have a window or a door. There are also about two dozen dry erase markers in a box on a desk near the front, and lots of math work on the boards, most of which is clearly student-done. John managed to scare up a chair for her so she didn’t have to suffer the indignity of sitting at a student desk. 

They sat on the same side of the table far apart, the workbooks stacked in front of them, two open between them. Hero has her laptop out. John has a notebook.

“You’re a paper notes guy?”

John nodded, flipping open to a blank page. About half of the lined paper in the book appeared to be already filled. Hero caught glimpses of numbers and words as he opened it.

“How come?”

He turned to look at her, eyes slightly narrowed. Hero did her best to appear neutral, non-threatening. Apparently he decided she was genuinely curious.

“I prefer analog. Helps me visualize the information better.”

Hero nods, glancing briefly at the walls covered in handwritten formulas.

“In college I started out doing exclusively handwritten notes, but by the time I hit junior year it just didn’t make sense to keep so many notebooks. Plus, I typed all my notes up after class anyway. It just became easier to keep everything all in once place.”

John nodded again. “Makes sense. Shall we get started?” Right to business then. Not into conversing. Got it. 

“I read over the first few chapters last night…”

They spent the next twenty minutes discussing the material itself, Hero trying her best to keep a positive attitude. The packet was pretty straightforward, if a little unnecessary in parts. The booklets contained the broadest overview possible of math, chemistry, social studies, and English, but also included sections on different methods students might use to approach testing which seemed like they might be genuinely helpful. 

“How do you want to go about this?” Hero asked once they had gone over the basics.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” she said, sighing, “How do you want to teach this? The same order the book chapters are in? Do you want to take turns on days? Or you take part of a class and I take part of a class? I’m sure we have different teaching styles, but how do we use them to the best advantage for our students? Tag-team a single subject? How long should we spend on each topic, how much time should we budget for getting behind if students are struggling more with one topic than another?”

John sat back. “It seems like you have a pretty good idea of how you want to teach this. I don’t care one way or another.”

Hero narrowed her eyes at him. “How many students are in your first period?”

He frowned at her. “Twenty.”

“I have twenty two.” 

“Congratulations.”

Hero’s mouth thinned as she set her jaw. “That’s fourty-two students whose valuable educational time we will be wasting if we don’t put some united effort into this over the next two months.”

The man had the nerve to roll his eyes. “I am well-aware of the ridiculousness of the situation the administrators have put us in.”

“Okay, so do you care about it?”

“Of course I care,” he scoffed. “We are already wasting their time. They’d be better served if we just stuck to teaching them the basic curriculum.”

“I agree with you, but that’s not the reality we’re living in. We have to do this, we might as well do a good job.”

John’s face did not change as he spoke, looking no more interested than he had before. “That’s very optimistic of you, very noble, but ultimately, nobility is otiose. There’s no point in planning this out because it’s all going to fall through in a few weeks anyway.” 

Hero reeled back. Not only was he being unhelpful, now he had insulted her. Insulted her. For no reason other than she was trying to do her job well.

Something in her snapped.

 “Um, alright. First of all, fantastic word. Surprised you know it, math nerd. I’ll be sure to use big words in the rest of this conversation.” That got his attention. His gaze was locked on her now. 

“Second of all, let’s set aside the ad hominem argument. You have absolutely no way of knowing whether or not the current situation will actually fall through,” he opened his mouth, frowning, but she held up her hand. “You don’t. You might be right. Maybe it will fall through in a few weeks. Maybe it’ll last a whole month. Hell, we might even make it almost all the way to the testing date before Pedro changes his mind again. 

But you know what else might happen? Absolutely nothing. On the off chance—however small you think it is—do you really think it’s worth wasting their time and risking your position and mine to prove a point? What, so you can prove you’re smarter than the admins? Welcome to teaching, that’s the name of the game. They’re in charge though, we’re not.”

She has breathing harder now, and she was distantly aware her voice was louder than she had intended when she began. 

John, for his part, looked a little shell-shocked. “What the hell?”

“What?”

“You’re the nice one.”

It was Hero’s turn to scoff. “Thanks. So?”

“So,” he said petulantly, “how is it you can get away with acting all ‘holier than thou’ with Kate and her gang, then turn around and talk like- this?,” he gestured his hand wildly in her direction.

That did it. “Holier than thou? I do not- I- I have never said or, or acted or thought I was holier, better than Kate or Beatrice or anyone else you might be implying. Just because I don’t participate constantly in dissing my coworkers doesn’t mean I’m some goody-two-shoes or alternatively that I’m looking down on everyone.”

“Everyone looks down on someone else, that’s how societies work.” 

“Okay redditor.” John looked very offended at that. Hero wasn’t done though.

“Look, I know you don’t like me or our coworkers or this situation, but we’re all stuck in it, so we have to deal. We can white-knuckle through it and have a terrible two months for ourselves and our students, or we can learn to get along well enough to actually teach them something.”

“I don’t dislike you.”

That brings her up short. Her brow furrows. “You- what?”

“I don’t dislike you,” John repeats, and he seems a little calmer now that she’s off kilter. She searches his face for a sign he’s making fun of her, but he appears to be speaking honestly. Bizarre.

That stumps her for a moment. John just looks at her, waiting for her to process. “But you’re rude to me.” She says lamely.

“I’m rude to everyone.”

Hero gives him a flat look. “That makes it better.”

He has the decency to look mildly uncomfortable. “I dislike pretense.”

“What’s pretentious about being polite?”

“It feels disingenuous.”

“It’s disingenuous to say hi to someone, or ‘excuse me, sorry for bumping into you?’”

“You bumped into me.” He said, as though that explained everything about all his behavior ever.

“I said I was sorry!”

“And I said don’t worry about it.” Infuriating, pointing out facts. Hero changed tack.

“You made fun of me that time in the break room!”

John does look a little discomforted by that. “I… not in so many words.”

“You said, and I quote, ‘that was painful to witness,’” Hero’s voice changes pitch to a mocking tone as she recalls his words. John seems to actually struggle for a moment. 

“I said nice things about your lesson plan!”

“You–” Hero thinks back, to the odd change in conversation that day. “That was you apologizing?!”

“I was balancing the scales.”

“What are you, Anubis?”

“Weird reference,” he mutters.

“And anyway conversations aren’t transactions.” John scoffs at this.

“Yes, they are.”

“No they’re not! Or- not every conversation,” Hero amended before he could interject. 

“Forgive me for not wanting to feign joy whenever I walk past anyone. It’s disingenuous.” He said again.

“How is it disingenuous to wish someone good morning?”

John’s arms remain by his side, his hands folded on the table, even as every word out of his mouth reminded Hero of a petulant child with their arms crossed. “Absolutely nobody is happy and pleased to be around people all the time.” He sounds so certain, so maddeningly reasonable. 

“That’s beside the point. You don’t need to be jazzed to see someone in order to not be an ass!”

Hero’s voice resonated in the empty classroom. John blinked at her. The room was quiet for one second, two, as they stared at each other, twin expressions of surprise on their faces. Oops. She did not intend to get so worked up. John was just so- so- something with strong negative connotations.

Bastard, Benedick’s voice supplies from her memory, but she quickly shoves it aside. Hero doesn’t like that word. Dick, Kate’s voice replies helpfully. Not helpful!

The moment stretches out, Hero biting her lips and turning redder by the second, John staring at her like he’s just now seeing her for the first time. 

“‘Jazzed’?” John says, finally breaking the silence.

“I… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean it.”

“Not jazzed, then?”

Hero huffs a dry laugh. “Not that part. Calling you an ass.”

John, to Hero’s surprise, doesn’t get angrier, or throw her apology back in her face. In fact, he looks… considering. Almost remorseful?

“Yes,” he says after a moment. “You did.” 

Hero’s mouth twitches up at the corner before she can school herself. “I… yeah, I did.” She lets out a soft laugh. Surprising her again, John flashes his own infinitesimal smile. He seems about to say something else when the massive stack of testing booklets still on the desk finally topples under its own weight, scattering dozens of yellow packets on the ground. Then suddenly, the whole thing is hilarious and Hero is laughing. Hard. 

She laughs for what might be minutes, long beyond what genuine humor might be in the stupid books falling over, until her stomach hurts and she’s trying to catch her breath. John is staring at her as if she’s grown a second head, but there is a subtle twinkle in his eye, and Hero can tell he’s repressing a smile.

“S-sorry,” Hero is still a little out of breath, half chuckling through the word. “I did mean what I said. You kind of are an ass sometimes,” and John looks to the side, a corner of his mouth tipping up. “But I should not have yelled,” she finishes seriously, the humor fading from her eyes. “I don’t like to yell, and I do want to show you respect as my coworker.”

John studied her, his mouth a straight line across his face, his brows raised. “Even if I’m an ass?”

“Especially then,” she said, pausing. Then in her calmest, most rational voice, added, “How else am I supposed to think I’m holier than thou?”

John snorts. Then:

“I’m sorry for disrespecting you.” It’s quiet again, then he continues. “I… you’re right. I should be a better coworker too.”

Hero is quiet, just looking at him. Then she holds out her hand to him.

“Friends?” He raises an eyebrow at her. Hero rolls her eyes. “Coworkers who agree to be kind to one another not out of deference to a social system but rather mutual respect and a common goal?”

Finally, John does smile, his closed mouth pulling up toward his cheeks, his eyes crinkling at the corners. When he grabs her hand in his much larger one, his palm is warm and dry. “Coworkers with an understanding.”

“Excellent,” Hero says, returning his smile warmly. “So how do you want to teach this?”