Master Post


Notes and Acknowledgments


The Learning Curve at Wakefield High


Jared only waits one minute after the last student’s gone before slumping over and resting his forehead on the desk.

First day, and he already needs a vacation. But unfortunately, teachers don’t get to choose their vacation days — they have to wait for the state-mandated holidays, sharing them with rowdy teenagers, sullen middle-schoolers, and hyper elementary kids. He exhales, reminding himself that he feels this way after every first day of school.

The students make it worth it, when they get invested in a novel, when they understand why it’s important to be able to read critically and write well. It gives him the energy to keep going, because teaching — especially teaching teenagers — is hard work. No matter how hard he runs, or how many weights he lifts, there’s no comparison to standing up all day in front of twenty-five seventeen-year-olds.

He closes his eyes, resting his cheek on the cool surface of a Shakespeare textbook, listening to the wheezing scrape of the ancient air-conditioner — until someone pounds on the door.

Jared figures it’s a stray student, coming to ask for something already. “Come in,” he says, not bothering to lift his head.

It’s not a student; it’s a grown man, dressed in a white button-up shirt and a blue tie. Jared peers at the guy through his bangs, managing to push himself upright and give the man a half-smile to hide his irritation. Parents don’t usually show up at schools without an appointment, and there's a reason for that. The last thing he needs at the end of a long day is a parent criticizing his methods, complaining that Steinbeck's work takes the Lord's name in vain too often for their comfort, or saying he's the culprit who’s caused their child's newfound open-mindedness. He needs time to prepare for that level of bullshit.

“Just coming by to see how you’re settling in,” the man says, interrupting Jared's muddled thoughts.

“Can I help you?” Jared asks, doing his best not to be rude to this guy who’s shown up randomly to bug him. The superintendent is a woman, and he’s met the principal, so if this isn’t a parent, maybe it’s a fellow teacher. Jared figures he might as well be polite.

The man steps forward, pushing the door open all the way. “I’m Jensen Ackles.”

“Jared Padalecki. Nice to meet you.” So the guy's introduced himself, but his name means nothing to Jared. He pauses, wondering what the hell this guy wants. There's no sweaty teenager lurking behind him, and besides, he's way too young to have a senior in high school. He watches the guy, who’s still standing in the doorway, and repeats himself. “Can I help you?”

“Oh. Sorry," the guy says, hands in his pockets now, shifting from one foot to the other. "I’m the principal. I’m trying to meet all the teachers.” The man laughs. “Guess I’m nervous.”

“Oh shit,” Jared says out loud, not catching himself until the words are out of his mouth. “Um, I thought the principal was Mr. Armstrong?” Jared clearly remembers the older man who needed to spend some time with a pair of fingernail clippers.

“Yeah, he was. But he had a heart attack last week. He’s doing really well, but the doctor said he needed to resign. So, here I am.”

Jared stands up, knocking his stapler off the desk with a clatter. Ignoring it, he clears his throat and tries to smooth his hair back off his forehead. “Do you, uh, want to come in?” As soon as he’s said it, Jared wants to smack himself. He sounds like a fourteen-year-old on a first date. He might as well hand Mr. Ackles a blue and white carnation.

Mr. Ackles nods and walks on in. He makes a show of looking at Jared’s bookshelf, the one he keeps next to his desk, the one with The Poisonwood Bible, 1984, and Invisible Man.

“Good books,” he says. “Are you teaching all of these?”

Jared has to stop himself from snorting. He might have the Advanced Placement English class, but he’s not a miracle worker. “I’d love to cover them all, but we’ll have to see how it goes. We're starting off with Brave New World.”

Mr. Ackles nods again and turns toward the rest of the room, studying the quotations taped to the wall, the rickety desks, and the greasy windows. “It looks nice,” he says finally, smiling at Jared over his shoulder.

Jared lets out a breath. The new principal is weird. Jared spent a year student teaching in San Antonio, and then taught in Memphis for three years, and all the principals were blustering and loud, just slightly unkempt, with yellow stains at their armpits, and faces that were a little too red.

It’s only now that he’s gotten Mr. Ackles’s approval that he relaxes and really looks at him. Then he wishes he hadn’t, because the man is extraordinarily good looking. Jared’s body wants to lean closer, to take in how his cologne smells.

His skin isn’t ruddy like that of all those seasoned principals that Jared’s known — it’s smooth and pale, and his shirt is starched, and it obviously didn’t come from the bargain rack at Wal-Mart. His hair is short with just a touch of gel, and he can’t be much older than Jared. Jared wants to ask how old he is, and where he came from, and how the hell he ended up at Wakefield, but those aren’t things he can blurt out, so he bites his lip while Mr. Ackles putters around the rest of his classroom.

He finally excuses himself, and Jared flops down in his chair.

Wonderful. His new boss is gorgeous, and for the first time in three years, Jared’s single. Which means that by default, Jared's automatically interested.

Jared really doesn't need that kind of disaster, not at his new school, not when he’s worked his ass off to get the classes he wanted.

He sags forward, letting his forehead bang against the old wooden desk.


***


When Jensen gets back to his office, he drops into his fake leather chair, wishing he could sink right down into one of the jagged rips in the vinyl.

He’d been doing fine, going from room to room introducing himself to all the teachers, getting reacquainted with the people he knew from his own years at Wakefield, and meeting all the ones he’d never met. He’d been worried about working with teachers that taught him, but they weren’t bothered by a young principal they’d known for years, and Jensen was feeling confident about the upcoming year.

Until he came to Jared’s classroom. No. Not Jared. Mr. Padalecki. He needs to call him Mr. Padalecki, needs to think of him that way. One look at the guy, and Jensen had started acting like a crazy person. Mr. Padalecki had obviously thought he was insane, and kept his distance, not babbling on and on like all the other teachers had.

Teachers aren’t supposed to be hot, dammit — at least not the male teachers. There are plenty of attractive female teachers, but those won’t be tempting Jensen, getting him into trouble.

He leans back into his chair and groans, running his hands over his head and pulling his hair. He isn’t sure if he can even get any stupider, coming back to his hometown and making a fool of himself. He’d never intended to come back to Wakefield — if his dad hadn’t gotten hepatitis and needed the extra help, and if he and Jeff hadn’t broken up, he’d still be living in St. Louis. But he’s here for now, and he might as well make the most of it, which means he needs to get his head out of his ass.

A knock on the door startles him and he straightens, forgetting about the pieces of hair he’s likely left sticking up. “I was just leaving,” he calls out, figuring it's the janitor.

But it's Jared. No, not Jared. Mr. Padalecki.

“Hey. I uh, just wanted to apologize for earlier,” Jared says.

“Apologize?” he asks, meeting Jared’s eyes.

“Yeah.”

This might be the most stilted conversation Jensen has ever participated in, or even witnessed, worse than the one in Jared’s classroom. Jensen wonders if all their exchanges will be like this. “Why?”

“Because I was lying around on my desk and barely spoke to you when you came in. I should have offered to show you my lesson plans, or my syllabus, or the unit we’re doing next month.” Jared smiles. “I swear I’m not as lazy as I looked.”

“I didn’t think you were lazy. I thought you seemed invested. Half the English teachers here don’t even read books.”

“Oh,” Jared says. “Well in that case, can I have a raise?”

Jensen throws his head back and laughs, relieved that Jared's finally broken the weird tension between them. “You’re a smartass. I like that.”

Jared grins back, eyes sparkling. “And you’re not an uptight asshole. I like that.”

Jensen nearly chokes. He’s never really considered himself calm, or laid-back even, but he rarely gets flustered. He doesn’t think anyone’s ever had him this ruffled, at least not in a professional setting.

He tries not to blush as he wonders if Jared’s flirting with him.

Jensen blinks a few times, trying to get a grip on his thoughts. Of course Jared isn’t flirting with him. He’s just an outgoing, friendly guy. No reason to freak out, no reason to get worked up and start thinking that Jared’s gay. Jensen forces a laugh. “We’ll see if you’re still saying that by the time term’s up.”

Jared amps up his smile. “Yep, we’ll see,” he says, kicking at the edge of Jensen’s desk, making little vibrations shoot up the leg. “I didn’t mean to keep you from getting home or anything, so I’ll get out of here and let you finish up.”

Jensen opens his mouth to confess to Jared that he hadn’t been doing anything pressing, except berating himself over his lack of finesse during their first meeting, but he stops himself. There’s no need to spill his guts right away. He gathers up some paperwork he’s been meaning to go over, and some notes from the school board members, and stands up. “It’s fine, I’m almost done,” he says.

Jared lingers in the doorway while Jensen walks toward the door. “You parked out front?”

“Yeah. Just give me a second to lock up,” Jensen says, closing the heavy door behind him and twisting the key. Jared’s ahead of him, wearing khaki pants, and it gives Jensen the chance to look right at his ass. Which he really doesn’t need to be doing, but he looks anyway, admiring.

The walk to the parking lot is short, and neither of them attempts to make small talk, which is fine with Jensen because he’s pretty sure he’d only end up saying something asinine.

“Guess I’ll see you in the morning,” Jared says over his shoulder, opening the back door to his Rodeo and tossing a pile of essays in, waving at Jensen.

Jensen waves back, watching him pull away before he finally gets in his car and drives away.

But Jensen doesn't drive straight home. He meanders around, trying to figure out how he’s going to control himself. He hasn't felt this level of physical attraction — complete with annoying symptoms — since his own high school years, when he frequently blushed, never knew what to say, and often bumbled around feeling like an idiot.

Getting drunk is not really a good solution, or a practical one, but he drives toward the county line exit, escaping their dry county in favor of the liquor store.

He’s ready for a drink, even though in normal circumstances, he rarely drinks on school nights. It's not a good habit to drink alone, and it's been eight months since he's had anyone to share a drink with at home. It also keeps him up at night, which makes for a hard day when he has to be at school at seven-thirty in the morning.

And he doesn't like to set a bad example. In a town this small, someone's bound to see him at the liquor store since they all have to drive to the county line to buy alcohol. Living in a dry county usually doesn't bother him, but tonight he'd like to be able to slip into a grocery store and buy a bottle of wine, maybe some Merlot. Sissy drink, his brother calls wine, but it relaxes him. He doesn't want to depend on substance abuse to keep him relaxed, but after meeting Jared, he needs this.

He chooses the new drive-through window that Lucky's recently installed, hoping he'll be in and out quickly before anyone sees him. But no, it's already too late. Susanna Smith, his childhood Sunday School teacher, is behind him, honking and waving. It doesn't matter that the Baptist preacher and his wife sneak a beer, even while proclaiming they abstain — somehow the principal going to the liquor store will be worthwhile news.

He sighs. Even at his last school, when he was still teaching, a parent had seen him out drinking at a bar. Jensen didn't question the parent on why he was at a mostly-gay bar when he was married to a woman, but the other guy had joked to Jensen about the beer he was holding.

He hands his check card over, waving reluctantly at Susanna.

When he gets to his house, he opens the bottle of wine and drinks right out of it.


***


When Jared gets home, he heads straight to the backyard and lets his dogs out. The weather’s still sweltering, and it’s too hot to stay out with them, but he leaves the back door cracked and opens the refrigerator.

He’s hungry but it’s not even four-thirty yet, so he takes out a bag of seedless red grapes and washes them. The week before school started he’d eaten an entire box of Twinkies in ten minutes, thanks to the nerves. The next day he thought his jeans felt tight, and whether it was real or imagined, it bothered him. Since then, he’s been trying not to eat junk all the time.

He sits at the kitchen table and stares out the back window of his house, thanking god for the affordable interest rates and cheap Texas property. It’s nice living in a house again, after three years in an apartment and four years in a dorm.

He pulls out the essays from the summer reading assignments, bracing himself for butchered language and incoherent sentence structure. The kids in his class may be smart, but after a summer of free time, working at Pizza Hut and using text messaging as their main form of communication, he doesn’t expect much. He’s pleasantly surprised by the first essay, but it’s difficult to concentrate on why The Great Gatsby is a worthy book, because he can’t stop thinking about Jensen.

He tries to focus and pops a grape in his mouth, thinking they’re okay even if they’re not quite the same as jellybeans, and circles a sentence with his green pen. By the time he’s done chewing, he has no idea why he chose to circle that sentence.


***


The next morning is even muggier than the one before, and Jared picks a red Polo shirt, deciding anything dressier will have to wait until the weather’s cooler. He irons his black pants with his iPod playing, wishing he still had someone to talk to in the mornings.

That’s probably the thing he misses most after the breakup with Sandy — it’s hard getting used to an empty house, especially in the mornings. There’s just something depressing to Jared about waking up alone and eating breakfast by himself.

As he rolls the lint brush over his pants, he wonders if he’ll see Jensen before school starts.

He’s going to have to be careful, and watch himself. Jared’s worked his ass off for the last several years to gain a reputation as a good teacher — not just one that does his job, but more than that. He has a passion for teaching, and for his students, and that results in kids begging their counselors to put them in Jared’s classes, not to mention the AP job he’s just gotten at age twenty-five. The last thing he wants is to destroy all that because of a stupid infatuation with his boss.

He sees a half-empty bag of Skittles on his closet shelf, and can’t resist having a few. At least if he does see Jensen before the bell rings, he’ll smell like cherry and grape.


***


On the fifth day of school, Jared arrives early to see Jensen hanging half out of his car, struggling with a pile of crates and boxes. Jared tries not to look at his ass, but he can’t help it — Jensen’s wearing jeans today, customary for Wakefield’s Friday game days, and they hug his body just right.

Jensen wrestles with the boxes, nearly dropping a crate of markers before Jared walks up behind him and steadies it. "Here, let me help you," he says, grabbing a few of the boxes from Jensen’s backseat. “What is all this stuff?”

Jensen turns around, looking surprised to see Jared. “Mostly art materials. Ms. Harris needed them, and you know how the school can be about ordering any kind of supplies.”

“If you’re willing to get this stuff yourself, and deliver it, then I’m happy to help,” Jared says, aware that most principals would never go to this much trouble for a class project.

"Thanks. I figured I'd drop a few on the way in, but the incline out here is too steep for one of the carts."

"No lie." Jared staggers and then rights himself, shaking his head. "It's like the people who built this school deliberately tried to find the most inconvenient and unworkable designs possible."

Jensen screws his forehead up. "Are you trashing my ancestors?"

"Your family built this school?" Jared asks, trudging up the hill behind Jensen.

"Yep. I don't know how much hammering they actually did, but probably a decent amount. My great-grandfather founded the school, and then my grandfather was superintendent for forty years."

"Well your grandpa needed some design assistance." Jared tugs the door open and holds it with one foot while Jensen walks through. "No offense."

"None taken." Jensen rolls his eyes. "He spent more time worrying about the state of his deer stand than the school." He looks up at the sky. "But the guy loved this place."

"Is that what you want? To move up and take over as superintendent?"

"Nah. I only came back because my dad's been sick. Once he's back to normal, I'd like to leave again." Jensen winces. "But that's off the record."

"I can understand that." Jared smiles reassuringly. "Don't freak out, man. Your secret pining to get away from Wakefield is safe with me."

Jared's just about to admit that he's only at Wakefield because he didn't have much of a chance to get an Advanced Placement job anywhere else, not at his age, but a school bus rumbles by, and he realizes he's late. "Crap. I better run if I'm going to get to first period before the kids," he says, putting the box on Jensen's desk. He rushes on to class, running in right after the last student.

First period putters on as usual, with Jared walking around the room and checking on how well each student is progressing with his or her essay, until the intercom crackles to life, just barely, and Jared can tell that it’s Jensen speaking.

“… assembly at 2:15, in the Bradley Auditorium.”

Jared smiles to himself as all the students perk up and pay attention to Jensen’s voice. Jensen’s so different from the stodgy old principals he’s been accustomed to, and it’s obvious that the students have noticed. And hell, he’s got to start thinking of Jensen as Mr. Ackles, no matter how easygoing the guy is.

“Jennifer, what are you doing?" Jared asks, stopping beside one of the desks. "You’re supposed to be revising your essay.”

She giggles and Jared’s eye catches part of a note she’s scribbling to her friend, the words “Mr. Ackles” featured prominently. He tries to make himself look stern. “This isn’t seventh grade, guys. Let’s be mature.”

That only causes the girl beside her to giggle more, but Jennifer pulls herself together.

Jared wishes he could pull himself together that easily. Just seeing Jensen's name on her paper is enough to bring up the image of their principal, and Jared can picture him as he was earlier that day, wearing his jeans and Wakefield shirt, carrying that crate full of markers into the school.



***


Overall, Jared thinks his first month at Wakefield went fairly well — a little better than the first week, and better than he expected when he took the job.

His only real complaint is the teacher's lounge. Four weeks into his career at Wakefield, and Jared's already sick of it. Jared hates to be negative, but the teacher's lounge is just flat-out boring.

At Jared’s old school, the various departments had eaten together, alternating classrooms. But Wakefield is so small that all the teachers gather in one spot, and most of the other teachers are women. Which is fine, because Jared likes women, as friends and sometimes more, but it would be nice to have some guys to talk to as well. Unfortunately, most of the male teachers they have are coaches, and Jared gets tired of the incessant football talk. He likes sports as much as the next guy, but English and the other academic subjects are the crucial parts of learning. It wears on him that even in 2008, people place more importance on a game than good literacy skills.

But he can rant about that all day, and no one would care. His colleagues likely wouldn’t even be offended — they’d just laugh at Jared and keep right on obsessing with teenage sport antics, so he keeps his mouth shut.

Jared trudges to the lounge each day at noon and shoves his food in his mouth, listening as the teachers prattle on and on, wishing he were a big enough asshole to just stay in his room and read The Huffington Post in peace.

Until the day Jensen sticks his head in the door. “You all mind if I eat in here?”

“Come on in,” the physics teacher says, sliding over so Jensen can sit beside her. “We don’t bite.”

Jared wants to smack her. He can’t remember her name — it’s Sally or Sarah or something like that, and she’s as silly and insipid as some of the seventh graders.

Jensen takes the seat next to her, but his eyes find Jared’s.


***


The next day Jared spots Jensen in the hallway after third period. Jared had meant to talk to him the previous day, but the unexpected appearance in the lounge threw Jared off, and he didn't recover for the rest of the day.

“Hey, do you have some time to discuss some purchase orders for books? And I’d rather not do it in the lounge.”

Jensen raises an eyebrow. “Don’t want anyone else to hear?”

“You got it." Jared leans back against the cinderblock wall, cringing when his shirt comes away wet with condensation. Fucking old-ass building. "Don’t want to watch them sneer.”

Jensen wrinkles his nose at the wet spot on Jared's shirt. "Watch out for the mold — this part of the school was built in 1947." He reaches out and touches the lines of water trickling down the puke-green wall. “Not that you care what any of them think, right?”

“No, I don’t. But we’ll keep my bad attitude a secret, okay?”

Jensen smiles. “My lips are sealed. You want to have lunch, then? Are you free today?”

Jared hesitates. He really does need to discuss the purchase orders with Jensen, and it's not like it's a date or anything — the principal can have lunch with any of the teachers to discuss business. “Yeah, I’m free.”

“Okay then, my car's out front," Jensen says as they walk toward the parking lot.

“I hope no one saw us," Jared says, peering out the window after they climb into Jensen’s Honda. "They’ll be bitching about favoritism.”

Jensen laughs as he backs the car out. “Surely it’s too early in the year for that.”

Jared snickers. "You are so naive. How long's it been since you've been in the classroom again, old man?"

“Just two years. I was vice-principal at my previous school for a while, but before that I taught AP Comparative Government and History. And yeah, I do remember the jealousy and in-fighting. So I'm sure you're right.” Jensen sighs, overly dramatic. “So, what would you rather have? Wendy’s or Sonic?”

“Wendy’s. Sonic’s fries are too greasy.”

Jensen yanks the car to the left, turning sharply into Wendy's. “Since when have you ever worried about greasy food?”

“Since always!” Jared tries to look offended as he steps out of the car. “Are you saying I’m fat?”

Jensen laughs again. “No, no, I’ve just seen you carry a bucket of KFC into the teachers’ meetings.” He glances over at Jared. “That shit will kill you.”

“Dude, I shared that bucket — it wasn't just for me!" Jared glares at Jensen and pulls the glass door open. "And you ate some too.”

“I did. But I’m not the one claiming to be Mr. Health Nut.”

“Fine. Next time we'll go to Sonic. But don’t say a word when I order the Route 44 Limeade.” Jared’s grumbling, but he can’t stop grinning while they order their food.

Jensen has a few spare dollars in the budget, and Jared's got enough interested parents willing to donate to the reading club that Jared wants to start, so the purchase orders are easy to work out. But Jared’s not ready to go back to school yet.

"So," Jared says. "How long were you away from Wakefield?"

"Over ten years. I'll be thirty in the spring, and I left for college when I was eighteen. I was happy where I was, but my dad got hepatitis, and he’s been taking chemo for it, so I wanted to come back and help out with stuff. You know, mowing the lawn, trips to the doctor — that kind of stuff.” He stops and takes a big drink of Coke. “I was planning on teaching history here, but at the last minute they needed a principal, as you know. So if my dad hadn't gotten sick, and if my boyf—" Jensen stops, his mouth open wide. Then he looks down, fumbling with his cup. "I mean. I needed to come back, but I wouldn’t have otherwise." He says the words quickly, stumbling over them. "What about you?"

Jared tries to look normal, like he's not reeling. Jensen was going to say boyfriend. He's almost one hundred percent certain of that, looking at Jensen's red face.

Jared picks at his straw wrapper, twisting it into a little ball. He's always been a shit liar, and terrible at covering up his reactions. They show all over his face, over his entire body, but this time he's praying that he looks normal, like he didn't just spazz out on the inside.

It's probably not working, but Jared keeps fiddling with the wrapper, giving his fingers something to do. "I um." He wonders how honest he should be. "I knew this was my best shot at getting an AP English class. I'm too young for any of the large districts to consider me, so here I am." He drops the wrapper and spreads his hands out. "But that's between me and you."

Jensen seems to relax a little then, even though his face stays a deep red. "I won't be spreading that one around the lounge."

"I can just hear them now." He sits up straighter and mimics the lady that teaches next door. "That Jared thinks he can just waltz in here and steal our best positions, and tell us how to run our department, and make all the kids think he's the best thing since High School Musical." He puts his hands on his hips. "Well, I bet he won't be laughing when we get the AP scores back." Jared coughs, voice sore from the faked tone, and sneaks a look at Jensen, who thankfully, is laughing.

"Oh god. I am so going to hell.” Jensen rubs his napkin all over his face. “I should not be laughing at that. It is not okay for me to laugh while you openly mock your colleagues."

Jared kicks his leg under the table. "Yet here you sit, howling at my jokes."

"I'm never going anywhere with you again," Jensen says, hiding his face behind his napkin.


***


Jensen manages to make it through lunch, mostly because he pushes the incident to the back of his mind.

But once he gets back to the office, Jensen really wants to die. Or maybe not die, but at least run away, or possibly cease to exist. He's never in his life slipped up. He's always careful to date a girl here and there, to always use the pronoun she, whether or not he's talking about a girl. Nearly fifteen years of knowing he’s gay, or at least a lot more gay than straight, and he's never given himself away like that, at least not unintentionally.

The only thing he can figure is that he feels so relaxed around Jared that he lets himself go. He feels comfortable around his friends too, especially Steve and Chris, and he's never made a mistake like that. When Jensen tells people he's gay, he plans it. It's deliberate. He doesn’t just blurt out the word boyfriend, especially not after what happened with Jeff.



***


After Jensen's unintentional gaffe, Jared can't stop thinking about it, and it's not good for his vow to keep his crush under control. Not at all.

Before, when he thought of Jensen, he would allow himself vague fantasies of kissing and of watching Jensen shower. Now that he know Jensen's gay though, he thinks about Jensen on all fours, of Jensen spread out underneath him, of fucking him, of licking his cock.

It's distracting.

But Jared somehow makes it through the following weeks. He focuses on his book club, and lets himself get caught up in the excitement over the upcoming football game.


***


Being at the game creates instant nostalgia — the air smells like autumn and reminds Jared of his own high school days. Only there was never a Jensen to stare at when Jared was in high school. Jared admired a few guys back then, but none of them looked like Jensen. They had been loud, all rough edges and bulked-up muscle. But Jensen is masculine and fit without being overly so, and Jared wants to bite the spot under his jaw line, run his hands over those broad shoulders.

He shakes his head. He's agreed to be here as an adult presence from the school, not sitting around getting a hard-on for the principal. He can see Jensen in the distance, walkie-talkie in hand, greeting students at the entrance gate and helping the local sheriff watch for potential trouble.

Once the flow of students has flowed to a trickle, Jensen leaves his post at the entrance and stands next to the field for a while, watching the cheerleaders unroll the banner, then he comes and sits next to Jared.

"So far, so good," Jensen says.

"Except that I forgot my seat pad." Jared wiggles on the bench, scowling at all the teachers around him who have theirs.

"Wimp," Jensen says under his breath, low enough that no one else will hear but Jared.


***


After the game is over, Jensen stays until the last paper cup is picked up and the last crushed popcorn bag is in the trashcan. Jared helps out, along with the algebra teacher, making sure there are no students still making out under the bleachers.

Jensen can't stop thinking about the way Jared's clothes fit him, about the way those narrow hips look. Jared's wearing the same thing everyone else is — maroon and white t-shirt with the mascot emblem, blue jeans… Jensen has to get a grip. He's got Skittles on his hands, and pickle juice on his shoes, because god knows the cleaning crew would never actually clean. And even with all that, he's thinking about Jared's body. How it looks when Jared bends over to pick up the trash bags, how his back looks when he lifts the bags up and throws all the trash in the cans.

Jared’s looks are the least of his problems. If the only thing Jensen liked were his looks, then he could cope. He could stare, and then be done with it. But Jared’s funny and smart, good with the students, and if Jensen keeps on like this, he’s never going to make it through the school year.

At least Jared's straight. That's the only thing that's keeping him going right now. It's easy to be just friends with a straight guy.

He holds up his sticky hands as Jared walks by. "I think we should ban Skittles."

"No way," Jared says. "Those things are heaven, second only to my jellybeans. I can eat three of the giant bags in one day."

Jensen starts peeling a squashed pack of Twizzlers off the entry gate. "Then you can clean them off the bleachers after the next game."

"Man, I would consider that a good time," Jared says with a big grin.


***


By mid-October, Jared feels well settled at Wakefield, and he spends most of his time focusing on his work. His students have gotten better at analyzing their novels, and he hasn't had any visits from disgruntled parents in over a month.

Jensen is another story though, because Jared is anything but settled when he’s around. Jared’s fantasies are becoming more elaborate — now Jensen shows up in his dreams. And the unthinkable has happened. His brain, which he has no control over, has started to wonder what it would be like to actually hit on Jensen. To make it clear that Jared’s interested, to ask Jensen out.

It doesn’t help that Jensen never misses a lunch in the lounge.

Two weeks before Halloween, Jensen slides into the chair next to Jared's at lunch. "Okay guys. The thirty-first is coming up, and I need your input. Costumes or not? If we allow them, I'll have a few parents ranting that it's the devil's holiday, and if we don’t, the students are threatening to skip school that day."

"Let the parents rant," Jared says. "No one's forcing their kids to dress up."

Ms. Bell shakes her head. "But shouldn’t we be respectful of their wishes?”

Jared barely refrains from rolling his eyes at her, even though he knows it’s not her fault that he has no patience for whiny parents. "Enjoying a holiday is not disrespectful to anyone or anything."

Jensen looks around the rest of the room. “Anyone else?”

“Costumes are fine by me,” mutters Mr. Welling, the P.E. teacher.

“Yeah. Me too,” says Coach Murray. “We need something to liven this shithole up.”

“Seriously,” Jared says, nodding his head vigorously. “If a parent complains, send them to me. I’ll tell them what I told my mother to say when parents used to complain to her: ‘you have a problem with this school, then here’s a brochure for St. Mary’s. Have fun paying the tuition.’”

“Mr. Padalecki! That’s terrible,” Ms. Bell squeals, batting at his shoulder.

Jensen ignores her and looks at Jared. "All right then, I'll let you all fend off the rabid protesters."

"Consider it done.” Jared rubs his hands together. “I already have my costume."

Ms. Bell laughs, apparently no longer worried about what the parents might want. "Are you going to tell us what it is?" she asks.

"Nope." Jared leans back in his chair. “You’ll all just have to wait and see.”


***


While the teachers drift out of the lounge, Jensen stays where he is. He can't think straight. He could have sworn that Kristen was flirting with Jared. But that's ludicrous, because she’s engaged to some guy and the wedding’s only a few months away. Then again, according to some article he saw on the MSN website, 35% of married women cheat. And she's pretty. Very pretty. Thanks to growing up in this damn place, Jensen’s known Kristen since he was a kid, and she’s been gorgeous since they were teenagers.

Damn it. Now he's just paranoid, and for no reason. Ms. Bell has every right to speak to Jared, and to tease him. Most of the teachers do tease Jared, at least the more involved ones who aren't moaning and bitching about how the students compare them to Jared all the time. But most of those other teachers don't look like her either.

Fuck. He's got to fixate on something else. Halloween. They can have a dance that night — Halloween is on a Friday.

That means he'll need a costume too, but he has no idea what to — Jensen jumps, his thoughts interrupted by someone kicking at his leg.

It’s Jared, standing next to him, knocking his foot into the base of Jensen’s chair. Just what he needs. He sighs. "So what are you going to be? As the principal, I have the right to know. I might need to approve your costume.”

Jared smirks. "Not telling. Not even for my boss."

"Come on."

"You trying to use your super principal power to make me talk?"

"Not one bit. I'm using simple blackmail. If you don't tell me, then I'm not dressing up."

"Oh, that is dirty."

Jensen crosses his arms.

"Fine. I'm going to be an Alamo Cowboy." Jared grins. "Was there ever any doubt in your mind?"

"You and your Texas pride. I'm surprised you don't have the flag tattooed on your forehead."

"Not a bad idea."

Jensen huffs.

"I bet you'd look good with a cowboy hat on," Jared says. "Although I will be the best-looking cowboy in town on Halloween night, so you might want avoid the competition.” Jared waves goodbye as he swaggers out of the lounge.

Jensen chokes on his Coke, the lukewarm soda bubbling in his mouth.


***


Jensen hurries back to his office, eager to escape the lounge and the mental image of Jared in a cowboy costume.

Jensen reminds himself again that Jared has to be straight. They’re in the middle of nowhere, in Texas. Any gay man with half a brain would never have come to this dump, and no AP English job would be enough to sway him otherwise.

Jensen’s mind switches gears, picturing what Jared will look like in his cowboy costume.

Now he has an erection.

Perfect. He tries to distract himself by planning his own costume. He has to be something decent, with no inappropriate hints or innuendos. The last time he dressed up he was a pimp, and the time before that, a vampire. Those are both out.

He usually doesn’t use his office computer for anything but record keeping, but he figures looking for a costume counts as official school business. Or it does now. And if the school board goes digging, then screw ‘em. He uses Google to search for costumes, hoping he can get a plain costume that won’t make him look like an ass, something like a brown monk’s robe. But every link he clicks comes up with the same result — sold out.

The only thing left on the entire site is a pirate costume modeled from the Pirates of the Caribbean movie, and he orders it, figures there can't be any harm in that even if it does make him look like a total dork in front of the students and teachers.

Once that’s taken care of, Jensen runs his hands through his hair, wondering what he’s going to do, wondering how he can get Jared off his mind.

He’s still stewing when Jared breezes into his office after school’s over. “Picked your costume yet?” Jared says, trying to peek at Jensen’s screen, giving up only when Jensen shuts the whole thing down.


***



On Halloween night the gym is packed with kids, so apparently not too many parents had a problem with the holiday. Jensen stays busy, especially after one of the students dressed as Wonder Woman starts up a striptease. He doesn’t see Jared much until the end of the party, when Jared marches over to where Jensen’s standing, taking exaggerated steps.

"Last Halloween party I was at, Batman and Robin got a little crazy." Jared’s lips quirk, but he doesn’t elaborate.

"Oh yeah?” Jensen asks. He’s trying not to stare at Jared’s chaps. “What happened?"

"I can't say at a school party." Jared gives him an exaggerated wink. "But once we’re away from the students..." Jared says.

"I'll have to remember to ask you about that, so don’t forget your story."

"Oh, I won't forget,” Jared says, licking his lips. “I was Batman."

Jensen looks away, staring down at the floor, willing his heart to quit racing.

Jensen grips his paper cup until it cracks, then the lights come up and the moment's over. Jared's Mr. Padalecki again, hyper and enthusiastic, helping kids clean up and box up all the trash, and Jensen needs a cold shower.



***


"Well, I declare the Halloween party a success," Jared says after the last student drives away.

They're standing around in the parking lot with Ms. Bell and Coach Murray, under the one streetlamp, and Jared searches Jensen's face for any signs that he noticed that Jared was hitting on him just moments before. But Jared doesn't see anything other than an expression that looks like relief — relief that they didn’t catch any of the students making out in the bathroom, relief that no one stuffed the insides of the black and orange cupcakes with toothpicks.

The lamp sputters and flickers, and Jared thinks he catches Jensen looking back at him.

Jared inches closer, hoping he hasn't gone too far with the flirting. He knows he hasn't crossed any tangible line, and he's certainly remained a gentleman with all the other teachers, but he's pushed Jensen a few times, trying to test, to see if he's interested. And he knows Jensen probably wouldn't push back — he's the boss, and he's a straight-laced, ethical guy, there's no way he'd risk possibly forcing Jared into something he doesn't want.

But what if Jensen knew Jared was interested too?

No, even then he wouldn’t make a move. Initiating could be taken as sexual harassment, and Jensen would never risk that. Jared’s only known him a few months, but he can tell how careful the guy is.

So that leaves any propositions up to Jared. And if Jared's wrong, or if he screws up, then that's it. He'll lose Jensen. He might not lose his job if Jensen decided to let it go, but still. He'd lose Jensen's respect, his professional support, and his friendship.

Jared's doesn’t want to lose any of those things, and he doesn’t want to put Jensen in an awkward position, because what he feels for Jensen is more than a crush now — he’s developed a deep respect for Jensen, and admires his work ethic. Jensen didn’t choose to be at Wakefield, but he still does the best job possible, putting all of himself into the position in a way that a school administrator rarely does. Jensen won’t make more money if he does a good job — there are no Christmas bonuses for a good principal outside the school-stamped stationary with the candy bar attached.

So Jared has a lot to lose, but he’s not prepared to sit back and do nothing either, not if he could have Jensen in every way possible.

The other teachers finally drift away to their own cars, and Jared rides back to the main part of the high school in Jensen’s car.

The longer he sits in Jensen’s car, the more his willpower wanes. It’s a holiday night, and he’s filled with food and sugar and the headiness of being alone in the dark with Jensen. He’s getting tired of resisting. He watches Jensen park the car in front of the office, his heart speeding up when Jensen turns and faces him with his eyebrows raised.

"What’s up? I’ve never seen you so quiet for so long at a time."

"Do you —" Jared really can’t believe that these words are going to come out of his mouth. "Fuck, I don't know how to say it."

“You usually don’t have any trouble with talking.”

“Yeah, but this could get me into trouble.”

“It won’t.” Jensen uncrosses his arms. “I promise.”

Jared tries to take a deep breath, but ends up biting the inside of his cheek before the words spill out. “Do you want to go get something to eat?”

Jensen’s raises one eyebrow. “That’s your question?

Shit. Jared’s managed to fuck this up completely. Jensen thinks he wants to hang out. Like buddies. “I — ” he stammers. “That’s not what I meant — ”

It takes a minute, but Jensen seems to realize what Jared’s asking. “You mean…”

When he’s pretty sure Jensen understands, Jared blushes. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have — "

“No. Don’t apologize — ”

“I should go. I, uh, need to get home.” Jared reaches for the car door, fumbling when he can’t get it open. He finally gets his fingers around the handle, stopping when he feels Jensen’s hand on his arm.

“Stop,” Jensen says. “I’d love to have dinner. We just need to drop off the gym keys and then I’m free.”

Jared closes his eyes. "Thank god,” he mumbles as they both get out of the car and head to the office.

“What are you mumbling about?” Jensen asks as he pushes the office door open.

“Because if you didn’t want to, or if you were offended, I'd be getting my ass kicked and then reassigned to teach Home Economics to the football players."

Jensen smiles, his face barely visible from the tiny bit of moonlight drifting in from the blinds. Jensen doesn’t turn the lights on. “How did you know that I’d be interested?” he asks, tugging on the drawer that holds the keys.

"I thought I saw you looking at me.” Jared’s grateful that the office is poorly lit at night, and that Jensen hasn’t flipped the light switch. Jared’s not sure he could have this conversation face-to-face, under harsh fluorescent bulbs. “This isn't how I meant for this to happen, at all. I wanted to be smooth, to kiss you. But then I freaked, and thought what if you weren't gay, or what if you were, but you felt like it was sexual harassment, even though you're the boss, or what if you thought I wanted to give you sexual favors in return for good classes, or were blackmailing you —"

"Jared.” Jensen replaces the keys, then locks the drawer again, turning to face Jared at last. “Calm down."

Jared grins sheepishly. "Sorry."

"So you wanted to kiss me?"

"Yes."

"Since when?"

"Since the day you first walked into my classroom."

"Oh."

"What does that mean?"

"It means I’m surprised.” Then Jensen leans forward and kisses him.

It’s a sweet kiss, intimate and careful, with Jensen’s hands coming up to rest on the back of Jared’s shoulders as he presses his lips against Jared’s.

"Whoa. I wasn't expecting that," Jared says, slightly giddy when Jensen pulls away.

"I can't overthink things like that.” Jensen blushes. “It makes me too nervous, and then I freak."

Jared feels a surge of confidence at Jensen's pink cheeks. He can handle this. Now that he knows Jensen wants him too. Jensen didn't say he wanted him, but he kissed him, and it would have been fine for Jensen to let him down easy, to make an excuse or say he wasn't gay or say that he was already seeing someone —

Jared watches Jensen studying him with one eyebrow raised. "Sorry. I let my thoughts get ahead of me sometimes."

Jensen smiles. "I've noticed."

Jared leans in and kisses Jensen this time, pressing him back against the desk. He’s just gotten his hands on Jensen’s waist and his tongue on Jensen’s bottom lip when he hears a bang right outside the door. He and Jensen scramble apart just in time to see Mr. Travis, the janitor, barge into the main part of the office, pulling his yellow cart and mop behind him. He ignores both of them.

"Hello, Mr. Travis," Jensen says.

The guy grunts at them, wringing out the mop.

"Good to see you too," Jared says, barely suppressing a snicker.

"You two gonna stay in my way?"

"No sir. We're on our way out."

They trip over each other in their haste to get the hell out of there, piling into Jensen’s car again and darting out of the parking lot. "My mom always said that the goddamn janitors run the place," Jared says, laughing as the tires screech on the pavement.

"Your mom says goddamn?" Jensen asks.

"Well no, not that part. But she was teaching one day, a really important lesson, and the janitor came into her room and set up a ladder. Then he started unscrewing all the light bulbs. He didn't ask if it was okay, or even speak to her at all. She complained to the administration, but they were all on the janitor's side."

Jensen laughs. "Sounds about right. I've tried to speak to the guy, but he looks at me like I'm scum. Everyone says he liked Mr. Armstrong a lot better, so maybe he resents that I'm here."

"Well, I'm glad that you're here," Jared says, letting his hand skim the front of Jensen’s chest, right over his pirate vest.

“So, dinner,” Jensen says. “Not many places open in Wakefield right now.”

“Oh yeah,” Jared says, remembering that the local restaurants all close early. Then he brightens. “The new Chili’s is still open.”

“Right. Almost forgot about the one chain brave enough to set up in a dry county.”

Jared laughs. “Think they’ll get a liquor license?”

“Nah. No competition on that, so they don’t even have to bother.” Jensen quirks one eyebrow. “So, didn’t you claim that you don’t like greasy food?”

“Shut up.” Jared punches Jensen in the arm. “Chili’s isn’t all greasy. They have salads.”

When they get to the door of the restaurant, Jensen hesitates. “I forgot that all the students would come here.”

“Is that a problem?”

“No.” Jensen seems like he’s trying to convince himself. “We have the right to celebrate Halloween too.”

Jared shrugs, but he notices the way tension creeps into Jensen’s shoulders.


***


"So I'm not such a big seducer, huh?" Jared asks, whispering as well as he can around a tortilla chip.

Jensen smiles and spins one of the cardboard coasters across the table. "You did okay."

"Yeah, I stuttered and fumbled around and then we got interrupted by someone with a dingy mop. Real classy on my part."

"You can make it up to me."

"Yep, and I intend to,” Jared says, grinning. He’s about to say more but a passel of teenagers are suddenly on top of them, shouting and laughing and cramming themselves into the booth.

The students are loud and excited, but they’re gone as quickly as they came, and Jared stares at Jensen unsure what to do now that they’re alone again, so he picks at the appetizer. “This dip looks like sludge,” Jared says, lifting a chip and letting the cheese dribble off into the bowl.


***


The drive to Jensen’s house is awkward, but once they’re inside Jared has him shoved up against the wall in seconds.

"Aggressive," Jensen says, his lips twisting into a smirk.

"Too much?"

"No way."

"Good." Jared groans. "God, I've wanted this for so long."

"Fuck, yes," Jensen says, gripping Jared’s biceps.

The next thing Jared knows is that they’re on the couch, and Jensen’s under him. Jared could really start freaking out right now, not because he’s scared, but because of how much he wants this. But he’s pretty sure that if Jensen senses any moment of hesitance on Jared’s part, he’ll get up and leave, and Jared will have ruined his chances forever. So Jared has to stay calm.

He can do that, if he focuses on Jensen, and quits thinking so damn much. He tugs on the flimsy pirate belt, not surprised when it breaks in his hand. “Oops, Captain Jack,” Jared says, breaking the second belt as well. “Looks like your seamstress wasn’t up to speed.” He moves the vest aside, pushing Jensen’s shirt up, rubbing all over his ribs. The thin white shirt rides up as he pushes, and he gets a good look at Jensen’s abs from the light in the hallway.

He’s never seen Jensen before without a shirt, and he stares. He runs his fingers over Jensen’s stomach, watching it tighten, listening to the breath that Jensen lets out.

Jensen reaches up to pull the red wrap off of his head, but Jared stops him. “Leave it.”

“I look ridiculous.”

Jared leans down and bites his jaw. “And I don’t?”

“Fair enough.”

“Besides,” Jared says. “You look hot when you’re ridiculous.” He leans down and licks Jensen’s ear. “And pretty soon there’s going to be come all over you.”

Jensen arches, thrusting up against him. “Fuck, Jared. You say shit like that, and I won’t last two seconds.”

“Good.” Jared smirks. “Means I’m doing something right.”

Jensen slaps him on the ass, and Jared growls, and then they get serious again, Jared’s hands moving all over the outside of Jensen’s costume. “I need more room. I’m not ready to rip this all the way off, and I need to be able to see you.”

“My bedroom’s just down the hall,” Jensen says, already untangling himself from Jared.

Jared tugs his cowboy boots off on the way. “Hey wait up, Captain.” Jensen stops walking and turns, the white shirt loose now, and open in the front. Jared could really stick his hand in his pants and come right then, just from looking at Jensen.

He hasn’t been this turned on in years, and he’s sure he’ll only last two seconds once they’re naked. If he even makes it that long. He’s never been a fan of long hair or eyeliner — he likes guys to look like guys — but the Captain Jack outfit, complete with dreadlocks, is killing him. He still can’t believe Jensen had the nerve to do it, but he did, and it was a hit with the students and the teachers, for them to see uptight Principal Ackles in such a ludicrous outfit.

He rushes forward and tackles Jensen, grabbing him by the waist and throwing him on the bed. He can feel Jensen’s erection through the brown pants, pressing against his leg, and as much as he likes them, he wants those pants off.

He slithers down Jensen’s body, pushing the shirt and vest off as he goes. “So, what’s next?” Jared asks, pulling at the ties on Jensen’s pants with his teeth.

Jensen twists and pulls, getting the shirt and vest off of his chest until he’s naked from the waist up. “You tell me, cowboy.”

“Let’s just see what happens.” Jared’s words are slightly muffled from talking with the drawstring in his mouth.

“That works for me.” Jensen moans, lifting his hips as Jared finally gets the ties undone.

It’s a blur after that, finally being naked with Jensen, wrapping his hand around Jensen’s cock, both of them coming before Jared has a chance to do more than smash his mouth against Jensen’s.


Part Two