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asphaltcowgrrlTitle: Hot For Teacher Chapter 1
Fandom: Romani Detective-ish original fiction
Pairing: None… yet
Rating: PG-13 currently
Word Count: 1,790
Summary: After getting his degree in languages, Andrej moves from Paris to the United States to teach. Prepared for a quiet, solitary life, he’s caught off guard by the colorful and aggressive staff members.
Author’s Note: Written for the bingo challenge at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
1_million_words. This covers the final square: college/university. I wasn’t sure about going fully AU with one of my original works, but I’m having entirely too much fun with this. Hopefully you do, too.
Frustrated, he looked at the map again. He was pretty certain he was lost despite the map and written directions he’d been given. In his defense, however, the university was huge compared to the small school in Paris where he’d obtained his degree. Even that small, insignificant school had been enormous compared to the one room classroom he and his siblings had attended back in his homeland of Romania.
He swore under his breath, switching smoothly between his native tongue and French.
“I’m not sure what he just said,” a voice drawled down the hallway, “but I’m pretty sure he’s not too happy.”
“Ya think, cowboy,” a second voice answered. This one was less accented, more crisp to his ears.
Shouldering his messenger bag, he looked towards the voices and saw two handsome men heading his way. One was tall and lean, pale skinned and red-haired. The other was taller and broader, darker of skin and hair. Both were beautiful to behold with their bright eyes and easy manner.
“You look lost,” the redhead said. “Can we help you?”
“He probably couldn’t help you if he tried,” the darker one said, pointing at the redhead. “But I definitely can.”
Fidgeting with the strap on his bag, he took a deep breath. “I am searching for the – the languages department.”
The men looked at each other and smiled. Eventually the redhead spoke. “You’re the new French teacher,” he stated more than asked.
“I am,” he replied, uncertain whether these two intended to help him or not. “I am Andrej Zeklos and I cannot find my classroom.”
“James Rosewood,” the redhead said, holding out his hand. Andrej looked at it for a moment before taking it and giving the hand a shake. “I’m from the English department so we’re in the same building. I teach American and British literature with a foray into Latino literature this semester as well.” He glanced at the man beside him and gave a sly smile. “Which pisses this one off to no end, but how’s that my fault?”
“You’re not even Latino,” he growled. “How is this fair? But whatever, Zayne Reyes,” he said, grabbing Andrej’s hand and giving it a hearty jiggle.
“He’s the assistant football coach,” James said, a taunting tone in his voice.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Zayne retorted. “He’s just jealous because I’m fit and popular while he’s… well, he’s him.”
“If you say so,” James said, turning back to Andrej. “I’m on my way to my office, I can show you where you need to go.”
“Thank you,” Andrej said. “I appreciate the help. This university is very large.”
“If you ever need a guide for the rest of the school,” Zayne said, giving Andrej a wink, “let me know. I’d be happy to show you around.”
James drew Andrej down the hall, back towards where he’d entered the building. “Don’t let that cowboy get you alone,” he said, turning left down a hallway Andrej hadn’t seen earlier. “He can be a bit handsy, if you know what I mean.”
Actually, Andrej didn’t, but he kept that to himself. It had been hard enough to fit in in Paris, learning French and attempting to appear like he wasn’t some peasant from a backwards country. It was beginning to appear as if America was an entirely new ballgame. So, he followed in silence, making a mental map as they wandered the corridors of the university.
“My office is right here,” James said, pointing to a door with a nameplate reading J. Rosewood on it. “The foreign language department is down the next hallway. If you need anything, I’m here every day. And since you have to pass by here to go home, stop in and say hi sometime.”
“I will do that,” Andrej said, thanking James and heading in the direction he’d been pointed. Thankfully, he found his office without any further issues. Sighing, he set his messenger bag on the desk and slumped into the nearest chair. Classes hadn’t even begun yet and he was already ready to flee the country.
**
“He didn’t sound French,” Zayne said as he and the idiot ginger walked across campus towards the cafeteria. “I’d have guessed he was Russian or some shit.”
“Not Russian,” James said, “but I couldn’t tell you exactly where either.”
“What are you two talking about,” an attractive brunette asked, jogging up behind the men.
Zayne slowed and allowed her to catch up to them. “The new French teacher, Hils. You know anything about him?”
“You mean the good looking guy with the piercing blue eyes and crazy accent?” She grinned at the men and shook her head. “Nope, never heard of the guy.”
“Don’t let her fool you,” an equally striking redhead teased, linking her arm through James’. “She’s been stalking the poor guy all morning.”
“I have not,” Hilary denied. “But he is cute.”
“Have you talked to him,” Zayne asked. He pulled open the door leading into the cafeteria and held it so the ladies could pass through.
“Only briefly,” she said. “He couldn’t find his way to the lecture hall.”
“And she just happened to be there to help him.”
“You can shut up any time, Trish,” Hilary shot back. “I walked with him and pointed out the right one. Why?”
“Because he said he’s teaching French,” James said, looking up at the menu and trying to decide if he’d choose something new today. “But his accent is anything but French. Even this genius figured that much out.”
“He’s Romanian,” Trish said, pushing past James and his inability to choose a meal. “Studied in Paris though some scholarship program or something. Decided to come to the states earlier this year.”
“Interesting,” Zayne said, a smile tugging at his mouth.
“Forget it, cowboy,” James growled. “He’s not your type.”
“Says you,” Zayne countered. He wasn’t into men as a rule, but there had been occasions when the time – and the man – was right. Although he still preferred women, there was something about this new guy that really intrigued him. Zayne glanced at the redheaded English professor and swallowed hard. James had been the first ‘right place, right man’ for him and they’d been an on again, off again item for the past two years. It’d been a couple months since they’d been together and Zayne was beginning to crave that masculine touch again. “You’re jealous. Worried I might like him better than I like you.”
“Not even close,” James said, rolling his eyes.
“Can you two stop flirting long enough to order,” Trish asked. “I see the object of both your affections sitting by himself. Or, he is until Hil gets to him.”
They both looked in the direction Hilary had taken her food. Sure enough, there he was, head bent over a novel and an untouched sandwich sitting before him. Hilary set her tray on the table causing him to look up. A smile spread across his gorgeous face, stirring things deep in Zayne’s belly. He stole a glance at James, wondering if there’d be a fight over the new guy or if they’d come to some sort of agreement. Not that he was worried, because there wasn’t any way Andrej was going to choose James over him.
“Food’s ready, dumbass,” James said, startling Zayne back into reality.
Embarrassed, he grabbed his tray and followed the ginger to what might be his destiny.
“Oh,” Andrej said, sticking a bookmark into his paperback and stealthily sliding it into his bag. “Hello.”
“You were here alone,” Hilary offered. “So we thought we’d keep you company.”
Trish sat down on Zayne’s open side and nudged him in the side with her elbow. He gave her a look and she laughed at him. “I don’t know about the rest of them,” she said, “but all I want is to eat.”
Wanting to shift the course of the conversation, Zayne wracked his brain for something, anything, to say.
“How was your first class,” James asked.
Zayne wanted to kick himself. Why hadn’t he thought of that? “First class of the semester is always the worst,” he added.
“How the hell would you know,” James said, turning to look at Zayne. “You don’t actually teach, Reyes.”
“The hell I don’t,” he shot back. “I handle the phys ed classes. Weight training. CrossFit. That shit.”
“That’s not teaching,” Trish pointed out. “That’s being a personal trainer.”
“What do either of you know,” Zayne pouted. “I work just as hard as ya’ll do.”
“Andrej,” Hilary prompted. “Any problems with your first classes this morning?”
He moved those azure colored eyes around the table, lighting on each of his lunch companions, never lingering. “It was unusual,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “My English isn’t always so good and it makes communicating difficult at times. Overall, I think things went well. Thankfully, my French is better than my English.”
“It gets easier,” James assured him. “And so will your English. You ever need any help –”
And there it was. The fucking ginger moving in on his man again. “But if you want to learn to talk like an actual American,” Zayne said, “you can come to me.”
“I,” Andrej began, then stopped. He wrapped his sandwich up in the paper it had come in and put it on his tray. “Excuse me, I need to go prepare for my afternoon class.”
Zayne watched the new teacher scurry out of the cafeteria like someone had set his ass on fire. Was it possible that they’d scared him off or did he actually need to prep for whatever class he had that afternoon? He made a mental note to find the guy sometime when the redhead – either of them – wasn’t around and ask him out for coffee or something. Make friends with him first. Then, well, maybe he could take him to dinner or some shit.
“You two need to go somewhere and screw your brains out,” Trish said, crumpling the wrapper from her burger. “If you don’t, your overflowing testosterone is going to scare that poor guy back to Romania.”
“That sounds like a challenge,” James teased, tossing his trash onto his tray. “But never fear, I’ll charm his pants off and he won’t know what hit him.”
“You’re starting to sound like that one,” Hilary said, jabbing a thumb in Zayne’s direction. “So, when it happens, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
He wasn’t worried. Andrej had come all this way, Zayne didn’t think he’d turn tail and run away so easily. There was one thing he had to do, however, and that was keep the ginger as far away as possible. That was going to be the hard part.
Continues here.
Fandom: Romani Detective-ish original fiction
Pairing: None… yet
Rating: PG-13 currently
Word Count: 1,790
Summary: After getting his degree in languages, Andrej moves from Paris to the United States to teach. Prepared for a quiet, solitary life, he’s caught off guard by the colorful and aggressive staff members.
Author’s Note: Written for the bingo challenge at
1_million_words. This covers the final square: college/university. I wasn’t sure about going fully AU with one of my original works, but I’m having entirely too much fun with this. Hopefully you do, too.Frustrated, he looked at the map again. He was pretty certain he was lost despite the map and written directions he’d been given. In his defense, however, the university was huge compared to the small school in Paris where he’d obtained his degree. Even that small, insignificant school had been enormous compared to the one room classroom he and his siblings had attended back in his homeland of Romania.
He swore under his breath, switching smoothly between his native tongue and French.
“I’m not sure what he just said,” a voice drawled down the hallway, “but I’m pretty sure he’s not too happy.”
“Ya think, cowboy,” a second voice answered. This one was less accented, more crisp to his ears.
Shouldering his messenger bag, he looked towards the voices and saw two handsome men heading his way. One was tall and lean, pale skinned and red-haired. The other was taller and broader, darker of skin and hair. Both were beautiful to behold with their bright eyes and easy manner.
“You look lost,” the redhead said. “Can we help you?”
“He probably couldn’t help you if he tried,” the darker one said, pointing at the redhead. “But I definitely can.”
Fidgeting with the strap on his bag, he took a deep breath. “I am searching for the – the languages department.”
The men looked at each other and smiled. Eventually the redhead spoke. “You’re the new French teacher,” he stated more than asked.
“I am,” he replied, uncertain whether these two intended to help him or not. “I am Andrej Zeklos and I cannot find my classroom.”
“James Rosewood,” the redhead said, holding out his hand. Andrej looked at it for a moment before taking it and giving the hand a shake. “I’m from the English department so we’re in the same building. I teach American and British literature with a foray into Latino literature this semester as well.” He glanced at the man beside him and gave a sly smile. “Which pisses this one off to no end, but how’s that my fault?”
“You’re not even Latino,” he growled. “How is this fair? But whatever, Zayne Reyes,” he said, grabbing Andrej’s hand and giving it a hearty jiggle.
“He’s the assistant football coach,” James said, a taunting tone in his voice.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Zayne retorted. “He’s just jealous because I’m fit and popular while he’s… well, he’s him.”
“If you say so,” James said, turning back to Andrej. “I’m on my way to my office, I can show you where you need to go.”
“Thank you,” Andrej said. “I appreciate the help. This university is very large.”
“If you ever need a guide for the rest of the school,” Zayne said, giving Andrej a wink, “let me know. I’d be happy to show you around.”
James drew Andrej down the hall, back towards where he’d entered the building. “Don’t let that cowboy get you alone,” he said, turning left down a hallway Andrej hadn’t seen earlier. “He can be a bit handsy, if you know what I mean.”
Actually, Andrej didn’t, but he kept that to himself. It had been hard enough to fit in in Paris, learning French and attempting to appear like he wasn’t some peasant from a backwards country. It was beginning to appear as if America was an entirely new ballgame. So, he followed in silence, making a mental map as they wandered the corridors of the university.
“My office is right here,” James said, pointing to a door with a nameplate reading J. Rosewood on it. “The foreign language department is down the next hallway. If you need anything, I’m here every day. And since you have to pass by here to go home, stop in and say hi sometime.”
“I will do that,” Andrej said, thanking James and heading in the direction he’d been pointed. Thankfully, he found his office without any further issues. Sighing, he set his messenger bag on the desk and slumped into the nearest chair. Classes hadn’t even begun yet and he was already ready to flee the country.
**
“He didn’t sound French,” Zayne said as he and the idiot ginger walked across campus towards the cafeteria. “I’d have guessed he was Russian or some shit.”
“Not Russian,” James said, “but I couldn’t tell you exactly where either.”
“What are you two talking about,” an attractive brunette asked, jogging up behind the men.
Zayne slowed and allowed her to catch up to them. “The new French teacher, Hils. You know anything about him?”
“You mean the good looking guy with the piercing blue eyes and crazy accent?” She grinned at the men and shook her head. “Nope, never heard of the guy.”
“Don’t let her fool you,” an equally striking redhead teased, linking her arm through James’. “She’s been stalking the poor guy all morning.”
“I have not,” Hilary denied. “But he is cute.”
“Have you talked to him,” Zayne asked. He pulled open the door leading into the cafeteria and held it so the ladies could pass through.
“Only briefly,” she said. “He couldn’t find his way to the lecture hall.”
“And she just happened to be there to help him.”
“You can shut up any time, Trish,” Hilary shot back. “I walked with him and pointed out the right one. Why?”
“Because he said he’s teaching French,” James said, looking up at the menu and trying to decide if he’d choose something new today. “But his accent is anything but French. Even this genius figured that much out.”
“He’s Romanian,” Trish said, pushing past James and his inability to choose a meal. “Studied in Paris though some scholarship program or something. Decided to come to the states earlier this year.”
“Interesting,” Zayne said, a smile tugging at his mouth.
“Forget it, cowboy,” James growled. “He’s not your type.”
“Says you,” Zayne countered. He wasn’t into men as a rule, but there had been occasions when the time – and the man – was right. Although he still preferred women, there was something about this new guy that really intrigued him. Zayne glanced at the redheaded English professor and swallowed hard. James had been the first ‘right place, right man’ for him and they’d been an on again, off again item for the past two years. It’d been a couple months since they’d been together and Zayne was beginning to crave that masculine touch again. “You’re jealous. Worried I might like him better than I like you.”
“Not even close,” James said, rolling his eyes.
“Can you two stop flirting long enough to order,” Trish asked. “I see the object of both your affections sitting by himself. Or, he is until Hil gets to him.”
They both looked in the direction Hilary had taken her food. Sure enough, there he was, head bent over a novel and an untouched sandwich sitting before him. Hilary set her tray on the table causing him to look up. A smile spread across his gorgeous face, stirring things deep in Zayne’s belly. He stole a glance at James, wondering if there’d be a fight over the new guy or if they’d come to some sort of agreement. Not that he was worried, because there wasn’t any way Andrej was going to choose James over him.
“Food’s ready, dumbass,” James said, startling Zayne back into reality.
Embarrassed, he grabbed his tray and followed the ginger to what might be his destiny.
“Oh,” Andrej said, sticking a bookmark into his paperback and stealthily sliding it into his bag. “Hello.”
“You were here alone,” Hilary offered. “So we thought we’d keep you company.”
Trish sat down on Zayne’s open side and nudged him in the side with her elbow. He gave her a look and she laughed at him. “I don’t know about the rest of them,” she said, “but all I want is to eat.”
Wanting to shift the course of the conversation, Zayne wracked his brain for something, anything, to say.
“How was your first class,” James asked.
Zayne wanted to kick himself. Why hadn’t he thought of that? “First class of the semester is always the worst,” he added.
“How the hell would you know,” James said, turning to look at Zayne. “You don’t actually teach, Reyes.”
“The hell I don’t,” he shot back. “I handle the phys ed classes. Weight training. CrossFit. That shit.”
“That’s not teaching,” Trish pointed out. “That’s being a personal trainer.”
“What do either of you know,” Zayne pouted. “I work just as hard as ya’ll do.”
“Andrej,” Hilary prompted. “Any problems with your first classes this morning?”
He moved those azure colored eyes around the table, lighting on each of his lunch companions, never lingering. “It was unusual,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “My English isn’t always so good and it makes communicating difficult at times. Overall, I think things went well. Thankfully, my French is better than my English.”
“It gets easier,” James assured him. “And so will your English. You ever need any help –”
And there it was. The fucking ginger moving in on his man again. “But if you want to learn to talk like an actual American,” Zayne said, “you can come to me.”
“I,” Andrej began, then stopped. He wrapped his sandwich up in the paper it had come in and put it on his tray. “Excuse me, I need to go prepare for my afternoon class.”
Zayne watched the new teacher scurry out of the cafeteria like someone had set his ass on fire. Was it possible that they’d scared him off or did he actually need to prep for whatever class he had that afternoon? He made a mental note to find the guy sometime when the redhead – either of them – wasn’t around and ask him out for coffee or something. Make friends with him first. Then, well, maybe he could take him to dinner or some shit.
“You two need to go somewhere and screw your brains out,” Trish said, crumpling the wrapper from her burger. “If you don’t, your overflowing testosterone is going to scare that poor guy back to Romania.”
“That sounds like a challenge,” James teased, tossing his trash onto his tray. “But never fear, I’ll charm his pants off and he won’t know what hit him.”
“You’re starting to sound like that one,” Hilary said, jabbing a thumb in Zayne’s direction. “So, when it happens, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
He wasn’t worried. Andrej had come all this way, Zayne didn’t think he’d turn tail and run away so easily. There was one thing he had to do, however, and that was keep the ginger as far away as possible. That was going to be the hard part.
Continues here.
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no subject
Date: 2017-02-20 04:48 am (UTC)Besides, it allows the boys to be douchebags to each other and not have Andy go off on them about it.
no subject
Date: 2017-02-20 02:15 pm (UTC)Heh. And they're about to get a million times douchey-er before they get any better. :D
no subject
Date: 2017-02-20 05:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-02-20 06:23 pm (UTC)