Chapter Text
Setting : Performing Arts School - Wilderness, Somewhere, Upstate NY. Alternate Reality.
Backed up against the cold tile, he couldn’t breathe in the best way possible, and the coiling of lust and a little fear mixed in with complete disbelief as he kept his eyes on the other man. As he held him up against the tile without so much of a strain, a strong arm pinning him in place, firm but gentle - the look in the other man’s eyes however, less gentle. Their breaths mixed in a way that made Tim tingle all over. He had baited the other man to this point, he knew he had, deliberately, he wanted this, my God he wanted this and so much more thereafter. But, there was a type of anger in the other man’s eyes, that he hadn’t fully fantasied about.
“Trust me when I tell you, you couldn’t even handle it.” he all but bit, slowly, pointedly, as he loosened the grip holding him in place, stepping back, the anger - the flash of red, now gone from his eyes. Replaced with something else, something Timmy hated to witness.
“Now go, please .”
***********
It wasn’t that he didn’t fit in, he absolutely did.
He made sure he did.
The version of him that he and they wanted him to be at least, here he wasn’t struggling on a scholarship, from a working class neighbourhood, with hard working people, who - gasp - didn’t have summer homes in Europe. Here he was advanced placement AND the star of the play - hard earned on both counts.
The school was his reason for keeping his dream alive, they encouraged every whim, every creative outlet, and for what they charged, they damn well should. His first few years took him from quiet in a room full of strangers, to improv at the drop of a hat - no literally, whenever anyone dropped a hat anywhere, someone had to improvise a skit. Whatever shell he had he had come out of it, the closet however … remained another thing entirely.
It got tiring though, balancing… considering he also had to do ‘real’ school work on top of three plays a year and end of year exams in all scholastic topics, as well as creative. The ‘real’ school work was his least favourite, and had the most boring teachers.
Until he walked through the door.
Timmy could say he swooned, but he didn’t he had, at one time , some self respect. But he did linger longer on him than any of the teachers he’d seen at the Academy, or anywhere else for that matter.
Super Tall, like almost point guard tall, swept back dirty blond hair, eyes so blue Tim was sure there were poems about such things, and built, frankly like a very waspy tank.
‘Mr Hammer - Call me Armie .’ Had a mild manner with a hint of something more akin to ‘fuck you’ behind that deep, but comforting voice. Miss Tanner introduced him, her replacement for AP English, patting her bump as she did so. Maternity leave, apparently. Which made his entrance on that October day make all the more sense.
The thing was, he recognised him, he had seen him take up all the space in the small coffee shop in town the day before - he had ordered a Double Shot Americano, no sugar, no milk. Timmy had remembered because he had winced at the bitterness, and laughed when the very-tall-hottie did the same as he exited. At the time Timmy had assumed a grad-student, but as it turns out no, just a fresh out of wherever it was they made teachers. Doing the math, he instantly realised ‘call me Armie’ wasn’t much older than the class of seniors he was about to take charge of.
Interesting .
He arrived with a blurry of chat in the classroom, breezing in like sunshine through the dirty windows. All tall and stunning, in a baby blue shirt, white tee and tan pants with darker boots. He was tan too, maybe he was one of those people that summered in Europe. Timmy assumed he’d never be one of those people.
As he took his seat, he smiled, and at that Tim was pretty sure he had zoned out for a decade. He knew vaguely that the man was introducing himself properly, and in turn asking everyone to do the same for him, even though he also had a book with names and photos from Freshman year that the teachers sometimes used with newbies or subs.
“Timothee?” he heard and he blinked back into the room.
“Oh yes, hi. I’m it’s - Yes.” There was a rattle of laughter in the class, and call me Armie, smiled again - and wow that went straight to his dick as he made eye contact with the older man.
“Where were you Timothee, somewhere nice I hope?”
Again more giggles.
“It’s Timmy - actually.” He asserted, from the second row. Spreading his legs longer out under his desk as he spoke, relaxing further into his seat.
At that Armie cocked a brow, the smile, now a smirk and oh God.
“Timmy, good to know. Wherever it is you went, I’d appreciate it if you left your imaginary adventures for the uh, other teachers, okay?”
He nodded and got an eye roll from Viv to his left.
“Now that I’ve introduced us to each other is there anything you’d like to ask me?’
“Yeah, how old are you?” Alex asked, enticing more laughter from the class, and another smile from Armie. “‘Cause you seem too young to be in that spot.”
He just shook his head.
“I’m old enough, next question.”
“Where are you from?” Someone from the back of the class asked, boring .
“Cali. Don’t hold it against me.”
He could think of several things he wanted to hold against him, repeatedly.
“Are you married?” Timmy asked, and that got no laughter, but it did get a head tilt as Armie slid his ass on the desk, leaning as he folded his arms.
“Nope. Now, as for the rest of the semester…” the quick pivot piqued Timmy’s interest. He saw no ring, and then got distracted when his new, deliciously dangerous day dream of a teacher turned around.
Suddenly English was his new favourite subject.
****
Two weeks in and his crush hadn’t dissipated, more like exacerbated. Once he discovered Armie wore glasses it was all it took to send him over the edge into full on fantasy mode. He knew it was wrong, and probably really weird, but he was that hot and frankly Tim didn’t feel even a little bad about it. He knew he wasn't alone, and probably half the girls in school and a few more of the boys felt the same. But, for the most part he was able to keep up in class - whilst at times being up, much to his discomfort, but it went unnoticed, he assumed, and his class work and participation wasn’t suffering so he was fine with it. They - the school gossips - had discovered the newest substitute was 24, and had moved to the little town less than a month before starting the job. Nothing more, or less was known about him and when he realised he wanted to know everything, when he barely registered the other teachers as humans, well, it said a lot.
****
Keeping his distance, worked just fine, until one Wednesday he was called on his way out of the class. Armie standing over his desk, glasses on, face of concentration on some papers as he called him back.
“Yes Sir?”
He winced, and he took all Timmy’s strength not to laugh. He liked that it made him a little uncomfortable.The school had a lax view on the Mr and Miss addressing of teachers, but it was still polite to Sir and Miss them when answering a direct request. Seemed like everyone but Armie was fine with it.
“Mrs Andrews asked me to uh, oversee? The play rehearsals from tomorrow. Since you’re the main guy I was wondering if there was anything I’ m meant to do or say or ...not say?” he smiled, and the former large and in charge ranter of Shakespeare was suddenly almost bashful, and Timmy was almost in love.
“Oh.”
“I promise not to interfere too much with the uh, creative process. And it’s only for a little while until she gets back from her trip.”
Tim nodded meandering his way back to where the other man stood, standing just a hair too close. Testing the waters.
“Sure, well the rehearsals go from three til five Thurs, Monday, Tuesday.”
“And weekends? She said something about the kids who board getting extra rehearsal time.”
“Oh yeah, well I board but not on weekends, and that’s usually for the band, being honest they need all the help they can get.” he smiled before whispering, “Divas.”
It made the other man smile and wow, that was a reaction he was really loving being the cause of.
“Not you though right? No Diva behaviour?”
Timmy was preoccupied by the tufts of hair peeking out from the t-shirt he wore under his shirt, was it soft? It looked soft. He wanted to touch it. He wanted to touch everything.
“Only sometimes…” he was trying for coy, he was but he could barely keep still, swaying almost, opening his space up for Hammer to step into if he chose.
He didn’t.
“Okay, well. I guess see you - all - tomorrow.” The serious exterior came back, but before he knew it he had already said a stupid thing - the first of many, many stupid things.
“Okay, it's a date!”
Oh no, no no no.
Armie raised his brows before letting out a small, gruff laugh.
“Tomorrow then.” he nodded to the door, giving Tim a literal out which he took happily, getting to the other side of the door, he wanted the ground to swallow him whole.
****
The play was their end of semester production, just before the Christmas break, they put on a show for over six hundred people. The pressure was real, as sometimes, there was a talent agent there, or two, depending on who called in what favours. And this year being his last year Timmy was determined to make it a show stopper! He didn’t need any distractions, this was his focus, and yet, when Armie walked in all casual and ridiculously good looking in well worn jeans, work boots and a motherfucking Henley, he almost drooled.
But he had a plan!
So he scampered off the side of the stage, leaving Kim and Jack mid-sentence.
“Hi.” he opened, more breathless than he wanted to appear. As Armie shuffled papers on the desk below the stage he nodded at him.
“Hey. Everyone got everything they need?”
Timmy looked to the stage then, no one was paying them any attention of course, so he handed the other man the other coffee in his hand.
“I got you this. It’s … gonna be a long few hours, trust me you’ll need it.”
Armie looked from Tim’s hands to his face.
“You bought me a coffee?”
“Sure. Why not…” He held it out and Armie took it, he didn’t brush his fingers like he so desperately wanted to. Jane Austen would have been pissed at him.
“I … don’t think I can take this… it feels …”
“I mean it was free from the cafeteria if that helps?”
His face relaxed.
“Oh, okay that… seems like it should be okay.” he took a sip and looked at Timmy surprised.
“I took a guess…” Timmy admitted, lying like a liar .
“Americano, no sugar, no milk…?”
Tim nodded, knowing that his face probably sold him out.
“Uh huh!”
Armie shrugged, “Good guess.” And he touched his shoulder, friendly, and only for a second, but Tim was thrilled.
“There’s better places in town, obviously but I didn’t have time to go there today.”
“Frankies is good.” Armie offered, and yes it was, it was where he saw him before.
“A little bitter though, but it’s okay I like it a little dark and surprising…”
What was he doing? Why was he so bad at this?
Armie smiled before he spoke again.
“Okay, uh, places? I guess? Show me what you’ve got.”
Tim smirked then, knowing he didn’t mean it as it sounded. Knowing too that when he blushed, the other man realised exactly how it sounded. But he chose to ignore it before leaning over the desk to shout.
“Places everyone please, let’s get this run through on the road!”
Gruff, in charge and absolutely mid-blush. Tim took that knowledge like a secret and carried it all throughout the rehearsal. Knowing he was down there in the dark of the audience somehow made him want to be better than ever.
*****
Timmy discovered that while lusting after his English teacher was one of his favourite pastimes, that baiting and debating with him was right up there as a close second.
“He was a hack, that much is clear.” he’d state, practically laying down in his chair, his legs spread as far, making himself comfortable to watch his teacher pace and counter his opinion. And he would, very well too. All facts and reason, but underneath a passion for making everyone understand the motives, the reasoning behind the stories or the poems. He talked to the students like they were people , and everyone instantly loved him for it. He wasn’t trying to earn their approval - past the first week anyhow, and he told stories, and the stories behind the stories, better than anyone Timmy had ever encountered, and he was at a performing arts school.
That said something.
That or maybe he was just infatuated with the guy, who knew.
***
A couple of weeks in and their assignment was to pick a poem of choice, and read it in class, a daunting task in most other schools, but there, it was their thing. Monologuing to an audience was his vibe. But in that instance, he took his shot because the only audience he wanted to see the reaction from was the one leaning far too sexily on his oak desk. He had attempted to flirt with the guy, being as unsubtle as possible, and though he wasn’t entirely sure if Armie was gay, he knew for sure he wasn’t exactly straight either. Don’t ask him how he knew, he just did.
But thus far had been professional and amused by Timmy’s attempts. Laughing off the compliments, patting him on the shoulder in a friendly but distancing manner, rolling his eyes joyfully at the jibes and comments of the other students on his looks, or his manner of speaking compared to the older ones in charge. Armie was on the seniors level, and everyone loved him. And he was pretty sure at least half the class had a full on crush on the guy,but Tim was determined to get his attention any way he could.
Whoever you are holding me now in hand,
Without one thing all will be useless,
I give you fair warning before you attempt me further,
I am not what you supposed, but far different.
He began, fixing his gaze on the man in front of him, forcing the rest of them to fade away. Watching only for his response, if any. Curious at first, his brow furrowed, arms crossed, as he listened, as everyone listened.
Who is he that would become my follower?
Who would sign himself a candidate for my affections?
That’s when he pushed himself off his desk, blinking out of the direct eye contact, to pace the room in front of the whiteboard. Timmy took all his resistance to not smile through his very serious reading. By the time Armie settled again he was determined to catch his eye, and he did, as he took his seat, leaning back in his chair.
...Here to put your lips upon mine I permit you,
With the comrade’s long-dwelling kiss or the new husband’s kiss,
For I am the new husband and I am the comrade.
He watched as his teacher all but squirmed in his chair, and he had known that to inflict a deeper tone to his voice while reading such a poem might elicit some reaction, his own body was electrified as he continued to read with as much emotion as he could muster. It felt like they were the only two people in the universe if he could have had it his way in that moment.
Or if you will, thrusting me beneath your clothing,
Where I may feel the throbs of your heart or rest upon your hip,
Carry me when you go forth over land or sea;
For thus merely touching you is enough, is best,
And thus touching you would I silently sleep and be carried eternally.
At that Armie narrowed his gaze at him and he knew something clicked. He couldn’t stop the small smirk that escaped his lips as he continued on until the end. By the end, his ever so dramatic classmates gave him a small clap, Tory commended him on great emotive ability, of all things. It was cute. He thanked her. But the only reaction he wanted was Armie’s and he couldn’t figure it out because he had then turned his back to him.
“Thank you, Timmy -”
Before they could move on, the bell rang. Everyone in a flurry to pack up their things, but not including Timmy. He took his time so he would be one of the last out the door, just to see what would happen. And sure enough, whilst shuffling papers on his already freakishly neat desk, Armie called.
“Timmy can I discuss something with you for a second?”
“Thanks guys, have a good weekend.” He offered to the other students passing him by, with that open friendly smile, and when the room emptied it faded as he moved back to his desk. Timmy stood, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet, unable to keep still.
Armie didn’t look directly at him, instead went back to the magical papers on his desk.
“That was uh, an interesting choice of poem, Tim.”
Tim, he liked that.
“Why interesting?” he countered.
At that Armie did look at him.
“Your choice of infliction was also interesting. It was rather pointed .”
Timmy smirked and at that Armie rolled his eyes.
“So it was on purpose then.”
He shrugged.
“Why?”
He shrugged again.
“Use your words, you’re quite good with them.” That thrilled Timmy to no end to know. He had impressed him in some way.
“Because I … wanted you to know.”
Narrowed eyes met his own wide eyed faux innocent ones.
“Because you wanted me to know… what?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
The other man shifted uncomfortably.
“Timothee -”
“Don’t - I know what it is and what it isn’t… I do. I also know I’m wrong in this. But that it is what it is.”
It. Him. His feelings. He wasn’t an idiot, he knew - of course he did. That didn’t make feelings just disappear, however.
“Look it’s -”
“Please don’t say flattering .” he rolled his own eyes then.
The other man closed his eyes then.
“Inappropriate is the word I was going to use.”
“That’s even worse.” Timmy laughed, so uncomfortable in himself now, he felt as he was, so exposed.
“ Look -”
Before he could continue Karen - Miss Lucas - A complete nightmare that taught French and Italian poked her head in the doorway.
“Armie - Oh sorry I didn’t know you had company.”
He turned, smiled, all stupidly soft and nice to her.
“Oh hey, no it’s …” looking at Timmy. “Not …” he looked back at her. “What’s up?”
“Just to touch base about uh,” she looked to Timmy, who was not excusing himself. “Later.”
“Right, Seven Thirty, reservations if that’s cool.”
She smiled and Timmy’s heart sank. Fuck .
“Yes, very. I’ll ...see you there. Then.” She was giddy and of course she was and Timmy instantly hated her. He didn’t need to look to Armie to know he was smiling like a big fool.
When she left he just turned to him without any preamble.
“Really? Her?”
He moved then to pack up his backpack - yes he still used a backpack, Timmy hated that he found it fucking adorable. He hated him at that moment.
“Not that it’s any of your business but yes. She’s nice.”
“She’s horrific.”
“Timmy -”
“And -”
“No. Enough.” He used his teacher's voice on him and while his heart was breaking his dick was definitely not broken. Damnit. “Whatever this is, or … what you think it is or you think you want, you don’t okay? It’s just -”
“Don’t say a crush, I'm not twelve.”
“No but you’re seventeen and that’s basically -”
“It’s not the same! I’m eighteen in two months!”
Armie rolled his eyes then, before pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand.
“I cannot be having this conversation. So we’re not, having it.” He was flustered, Timmy loved it.
“It?”
“The con - Ok just go okay? Have a nice, normal weekend and just try and forget about this okay?” He offered.
It was his turn to roll his eyes then.
“Fine. Sorry for your complete lack of taste, I guess.”
************
He left school that afternoon angry at the world, he lived walking distance away, so boarding was only for convenience really. Yes, he was a townie compared to the other kids, but he had a scholarship and it meant less stress on his mother during the week. She was a night nurse, so he rarely saw her anyway, boarding made sense. She didn’t have to worry about him, and he it saved them money in the long run. On weekends though, he’d head home and they'd have dinner together when her schedule lined up, and she always tried to make it so. Then he’d head to the restaurant, and do a double shift from seven til close, had done since he was sixteen, for extra money for after graduation.
“Timoteee my boy, busy night ahead, busy busy!” Luca exclaimed as always, happy to be busy. Though they were always busy, they were the best and only one of two restaurants in the whole town. So it worked out well for them. He washed his hands and put on his apron over his black pants and white shirt. And for about an hour things were going well, his tables were starting to fill up and the takeaway orders were coming thick and fast.
And then it happened.
“You have got to be shitting me.” he whispered to himself, but Luca looked up from the register.
Looking to where Tim was looking.
“Who is that?”
Timmy sighed.
“That is my teacher, and well, my other teacher.” He most likely let all emotions walk across his face because Luca went from nosy, to concerned.
“And this is bad for you?”
“Kinda.”
“Which is the one that is bad for you?”
Timmy smiled then. Shrugging.
“Ah. The handsome one, good taste.”
“He doesn’t think so.”
“Go ask them if they want drinks.” he offered handing him two menus.
“Can’t Carrie take thi -”
“No.” he dismissed without looking at him. Tim just sighed and put on his customer service face as he approached them.
“Hi Welcome to Lucas -”
“Timmy -” Armie - mid conversation spoke, his eyes wide. “What -”
“Hi I work here. Hi.” he nodded to her, handing them both their menus. “Our specials are -”
Before he finished Miss Date Night began to ramble in Italian. He forced himself to not roll his eyes. She was obviously trying to impress Armie.
“Oh - “ Armie began but she kept going pointing her menu on what she wanted, Timmy knew the menu like the back of his hand so she could have rambled in Chinese and he would have understood - even if his Italian was basic from her class, but because he’d worked with Luca and his husband for two years, he wasn’t as shabby as she taught. He smiled, and answered her perfectly, to her obvious surprise.
“And you?” he turned to Armie who looked plain uncomfortable in his stupidly handsome tweed jacket on top of a crisp white shirt and tan pants. Timmy really hated that he could smell how good he smelled from where he stood.
“What would you rec -”
“No no you want to try this, trust me it’s amazing!” She butted in, pointing to a dish that was only so-so. He could have recommended Luca’s favourites, but no. Apparently Armie was chill with obnoxious women.
“That sounds great. I’ll have that, thank you.” he attempted a smile but his discomfort was written all over his face.
“Any drinks to start things off?” Timmy offered, taking their menus back. And before she had a chance to speak he spoke up.
“No just a coke for me thanks, I’m driving.” She looked annoyed but shrugged.
“Water is fine.”
Offering his best fake customer service smile he nodded and walked off. Praying that one of the other staff would take the table.
They didn’t.
He spent the next hour not - not watching them from the side of his eye, not not noticing Armie notice him as he did his rounds at other tables in the section. Absolutely not noticing how uncomfortable he looked either. Except he did, and it was killing him. When he served them Armie was nice, she was rude, her dish needed additions twice, while he just grimaced at her behaviour to both Timmy and the waitress that re-served her, Clara. It was a shit show to witness.
So he decided to intervene.
Walking into the men;s room, he really tried very hard to not focus on the fact that Armie had his dick in his hand - he absolutely was not thinking about that, as he walked up to the urinal with an empty one in between. He might have been thirsty as fuck for this guy, but he wasn’t a creep. He did his thing while Armie finished, and thankfully went to wash his hands. He was sure that he was going to ignore Timmy completely.
As Timmy moved to wash his hands, his moment was lost as another customer came in to pee. He could tell Armie was gearing up to have said something but instead moved to throw his paper towel in the bin as Timmy moved to wash his hands. Instead the older man just made his way out of the bathroom silently.
Well that just would do. He had encouraged him to use his words, after all.
***
“Excuse me, Mr Hammer you have a phone call.”
Armie looked up, confused. She looked even more so.
“A ...phone call?”
“Yes.” Timmy replied, curt.
“But … no one knows I’m here?”
An awkward laugh, but he kept his customer service voice on.
“Well, Sir, someone surely must. Follow me.” Timmy smiled before moving.
He could sense his confusion as he did indeed follow him to the back, the side of the register out of view from the tables.
“You really should tell people when you go on dates where you’re going, you know? She could be a real life serial killer and then where would you be.”
Armie sighed, realising there was in fact no fucking phone call. Timmy didn’t care.
“There’s no call, is there?” he crossed his arms.
“What? No! Of course not, it’s 2019, who the fuck calls a restaurant anymore? Look -”
“Tim, listen to me, okay, this … concern is very …” he sighed again before closing his eyes, Timmy still didn’t care, he was an inch from his face, and it was beyond unfair how good he smelled. He smelled expensive, more expensive than his paycheck that’s for sure. “Sweet… But I’m having a nice time -”
“Really? Doesn’t look like it from where I’m standing.”
He rolled his eyes then.
“Then maybe you shouldn’t be standing around watching people eat, it’s not polite.”
“I’m not watching you eat, I’m watching her talk AT you like she does the rest of us, and I watched her talk you out of the Gnocchi, the monster, it’s our best dish.”
Armie smiled then, even though it looked like he was trying his best not to.
“Please, let it be…. okay? I appreciate you looking out for me, I do, but there’s no need.”
As he moved to leave, Timmy took it a step further,and gently reached for his arm.
“Look just don’t sleep with her okay, she doesn’t deserve it.”
Armie looked at where Timmy held on to him, then looked to Timmy, and for a split second fear ran down his spine, that he had taken it a step too far. Instead, the other man softly smiled.
“Takes more than a plate of cold pasta to get me into bed, Tim, don’t worry about it.”
As he moved past him and back to his horrible date, Timmy couldn’t help but wonder what exactly it would take…