Teachers USUK

Chapter 3

Arthur's POV

"This is exciting, no?" Francis says, leaning on his delicate hand as he chews on a freshly baked croissant covered in jam. 

I give him a dry look in response. Why the hell did I ever agree to carpool with this git? "I don't really see how this sort of thing is exciting," I mutter, honking at the asshole in front of me that's stopped at a green light. God, some people are so bloody stupid.

"This is going to start a spiral of drama and love, and it will, of course, end with the two of you making passionate love!" he cries, making my eyebrows raise.

"You've been reading too many romance novels," I mutter dryly, and the Frenchman laughs mockingly, amused with the reaction I've provided him with.

"Do not pretend you do not want his...love croissant," he murmurs suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows as if the muscles in his face are having a seizure.

"That is quite possibly one of the most disgusting things you have ever said," I say cooly, pulling into the highschool parking lot with ease. We're early, so there aren't many students at all yet. There are a few that show up and help teachers out of the kindness of their hearts, but those students are few and far between.

"I've run out of innuendos," he replies with a shrug. We both exit the car with small, entertained grins on our faces.

I don't actually have to be here so early, but I like being around when there is very few people. I'm not one for crowds or strangers, which is probably any student that isn't in my music class sees me as "that strict British teacher with the thick eyebrows", and I can't blame them. I can't really be myself around people I don't know, and my students are like the children I never had. I love them all.

I didn't like Francis at first. He made too many passes at me, and he was much too suggestive for my taste. But, as we've spent more time together, I've come to think of him as a friend. The fact that he's stopped hitting on me didn't exactly damage the relationship between us either. I still find him completely insufferable at times, but I consider him a friend nonetheless.

"How do you plan on admitting those homosexual feelings of  yours?" he asks as we walk leisurely towards the auditorium together. He's grinning at me smugly, and I should really expect these kind of comments.

"I don't plan on admitting anything homosexual to anyone," I state with a scoff, pointing my nose into the air haughtily. This, in turn, causes the frog to laugh as if he were some adult laughing at a child's antics. It's patronizing, and I don't appreciate it. Of course, I'm used to this kind of treatment.

Last year, he got it into his head that I was in love with some janitor that works at the school. He didn't relent on the subject until I pointed out the wedding ring on the man's finger. Now, Francis makes it his duty to discover my "one true love" and make me marry them. I swear he's too fond of setting people up. The numebr of blind dates he's sent me on is astounding. Recalling some of the things he's done, it's a miracle I even consider him an acquaintance, let alone a friend. Apparently, Alfred is going to be one of those things he berrates me about. 

"Well, when you finally realize that you have feelings for the American brute, come to me, and I'll help you out as much as I can," he promises, planting his palm over his heart to indicate how strongly he feels.

I chuckle and sip at my mug of tea. "Thank you?" I ask, feeling a grin etch itself onto my features in spite of myself.

We strut through the quiet halls in a comfortable silence, enjoying the sight of snow piled high on the grass. It's always so beautiful whenever it snows, but during any other season, it's wet and messy. Winter truly is my favorite season.