Funny How Love Is (Maylor AU)

Chapter 7

Roger parked the car he and Tim shared in front of the university and sighed, wrapping his hand around the door handle to leave when Tim stopped him for the second time in the last two days. "Uh uh uh," he tutted, "You're forgetting something."

"I'm not sucking your dick again, Tim," the blonde sternly refused, glaring over his shoulder at him, "Especially not in front of the school."

The car's passenger gasped in mock disbelief and dramatically brought a hand up to his chest. "What? No. Roger, that's...that's despicable. I would never. And you shouldn't talk to me like that at your job—it's unprofessional."

Roger scoffed at his boyfriend's use of his own words against him. "You know what, Tim? I don't care; I don't have time for this. I'm running late as it is."

"Just kiss me goodbye, bitch," Tim growled in aggravation as Roger pulled the handle in, the car door popping out.

The blonde laughed. "I thought I disgusted you."

"Oh my god, Roger. I swear...if it wasn't for that dick between your legs, you'd be a girl," he retorted with a shake of his head and a roll of his eyes, "You take everything so seriously. Just fucking kiss me and I'll let you go." A devious smirk appeared on the passenger's face as he added, "Or don't, and I'll let everyone here know how much of a fraud you are, pretending to be this sophisticated, proper—"

Roger quickly leaned over the center console and did as he was told, shutting his boyfriend up in one swift motion. He leaned back, worry and fear glistening in his eyes, as he saw the malevolent grin stretch across Tim's face. Tim didn't say another word before opening his own car door and getting out to switch places with Roger, who also—finally—got out.

The blonde didn't dare look back over his shoulder as he approached the school, trying to calm his rapidly erratic breathing and regain the confident, albeit slightly arrogant persona he'd decided to take on at the university. It was difficult with this morning's events replaying over and over in his head, but by the time he set foot in the school and placed his sunglasses over his tired eyes, he was winking at the girls gathered together in the halls and pointing finger guns at the teachers he passed by.

Roger was so focused on maintaining his facade that he almost didn't realize he was passing Brian's classroom, and he wouldn't have if it wasn't for the headmistress calling out to him, "Oh, Mr. Taylor!" He stopped dead in his tracks and watched as Chrissie jogged out of the lecture hall—Brian not too far behind her at his desk—and placed a hand on Roger's upper arm. "I'm glad I caught you. How are the flyers coming along? Are they ready to go up?"

Shit, Roger silently cursed to himself. He'd completely forgotten about the one task he had to do, distracted by his conversation with Brian yesterday and the night he had with Tim. "N-Not quite," he revealed, straightening his posture and adjusting the red and black suit jacket he'd adorned himself with, "You see, I was working on them all last night, but they didn't seem complete. It felt like something was...missing."

"I see," the headmistress replied, nodding her head in understanding and folding her arms over her chest, "Well, have them up by the end of the day, yeah? I want this opportunity available for the students as soon as possible, with midterms almost being done with and all."

"Yes, Headmistress Mullen," Roger answered. She grinned in delight and gave his arm a slight squeeze, looking back over her shoulder at Brian and using her free hand to wave goodbye to him. The blonde easily recognized the flirtatious, delicate, teasing gesture, and taking note of the blush that appeared in the professor's cheeks as he waved back, Roger sensed that there was something more to their professional relationship.

Once the headmistress was out of sight and out of ear shot, Roger slipped into the professor's lecture hall and dared to ask with a mischievous smirk, "So, how long?"

"Pardon me?" Brian retorted, his eyebrows knitting together as if he didn't know what the blonde was interrogating him about. He knew full well what Roger was asking, though, and took a sip from the coffee mug that was sat on his desk to avoid the subject at hand.

"Oh, come on," the blonde chuckled, taking a seat in the front row, "You and the head bitch in charge. How long have you been shagging one another?"

The professor choked on the hot beverage, coughing for a bit before setting his drink down and replying, "What makes you think—" His voice trailed off as he met Roger's eyes that screamed, Don't try lying to me, man. I know what it looks like when two people are crazy about each other. The blush in Brian's cheeks intensified as he tilted his head down, murmuring under his breath, "I-I'd prefer not to talk about it, Roger."

"Fair enough," the music instructor acquiesced, the smirk on his face growing as his thoughts wandered, filling in the blanks the professor was refusing to. A moment of silence passed before Roger cleared his throat and asked, "Can I be honest with you?"

Brian swallowed the lump in his throat, his mind going to a thousand different places as he began to wonder about what truth Roger wanted to share with him. There was only one way to find out, though. "Sure, go ahead," he said, folding his arms over his chest.

"I haven't started those flyers," the blonde confessed with utmost seriousness, unrelenting in his stare-down with the curly-haired professor. The tall man tugged at his collar, struggling to come up with a response when the music instructor's austere front began to crack, laughter overcoming him and bringing him up to the front desk. He pushed the teacher's papers to the floor to make room for himself and took their spot on the corner, looking over his shoulder at the professor and smiling. "I really fooled you there, didn't I?"

"My papers..." was all Brian could get out, leaning back in his chair and looking dejectedly at the mess Roger had created.

"Hey," the blonde snapped, grabbing the professor's chin and bringing his attention back to him. Brian's eyes doubled in size at the instructor's action. "How are we supposed to get to know each other when you're more focused on some stupid, cut-up trees than you are me? I mean, have you seen me?"

Yes, Brian responded immediately in his mind, I've seen you every day you've been here. There's not a day that's passed where you haven't caught my eye or crossed my mind. However, instead of sharing that admittedly unsettling sentiment, he rose from his chair and knelt down on the ground to gather his scattered work, replying, "And when exactly did this become about getting to know each other?"

"You sound awfully defensive there, Professor," Roger jeered, wrapping his hands around the edges of the desk and glancing down at the burned welt in its surface, smirking at the memory of the first day he'd entered Brian's classroom. His attention drifted over to the professor who was down on his hands and knees, reaching for the pieces of paper strewn about the floor. His eyes trailed down Brian's back and landed on his ass. Hmm, the blonde thought but kept to himself. Not bad.

Brian stood up with a sigh and set the neatly organized papers back down on his desk beside Roger, noticing the pensive look in the instructor's unwavering gaze. He felt his throat go dry like the desert as he stared into the blue eyes begging him to do what both of them were thinking. Confused and a little frightened by the feelings washing over him, the professor turned away and approached the chalkboard, returning to their original conversation with, "You should probably get started on those flyers if you truly haven't. You don't want to get on Chrissie's bad side, trust me."

"Chrissie?" the blonde repeated, smirking at the professor's slip of tongue.

"Headmistress Mullen," Brian sharply corrected himself, his embarrassment going unnoticed as he kept his back to Roger and picked up a piece of chalk, pressing it against the dark green surface.

"Right," Roger jokingly agreed, crossing his arms.