Mr. Iero is one of those teachers that always looks pissed off and to most it would be intimidating but to Gerard it's very distracting. He finds himself continually looking up from his exam to watch the teacher pace, staring at his students suspiciously. Fuck, that look in his eye is intense. There's a fine line between lust and rage that, as a seventeen-year-old and frequenter of the best porn the five finger discount could buy, Gerard is acutely aware of. And when Mr. Iero isn't pacing, he settles behind his desk and leans back in his chair until it's balancing his weight on two legs. All the confidence and authority of a man in his early twenties left to watch after a crew of stressed out, pubescent boys.
He's a substitute teacher. A regular. Gerard chews on his pencil as he tries to recall what the limit as x approaches 0 would be if oh God Mr. Iero is licking his lips. Gerard sits a little straighter, glances at the clock, then back at Mr. Iero. The teacher, who's wearing a black suit for fuck's sake, is staring at Gerard now, that hard look not leaving his face. Gerard looks down at his paper, eyes wide, and at the last few questions he needs to answer. But he can feel the burning glare Mr. Iero is giving him.
"Five minutes," Mr. Iero says. There's a collective groan from the class. But gosh, even his voice screams sex.
Catholic school boys aren't supposed to have crushes on substitute teachers. Iero stands again to pace and Gerard bullshits the rest of his test. If the blood wasn't gone from his brain earlier, it definitely is now. He lowers his pencil and locks his jaw. When he looks up, Iero is staring at him again. The bell rings and the tests are passed to the front, with the rows closer to the front working furiously to answer last minute questions. Gerard tries to figure out a way to hide his boner before standing.
"Thank you, thank you, you can leave," Mr. Iero says as he collects the tests. Gerard flushes red as the class pours out and he holds his hoodie obnoxiously low, standing slowly.
Gerard's ready to run for it but Mr. Iero beats him to the door and...locks it. Gerard pauses in front of the desk that Mr. Iero gently lays the tests on.
"Gerard, right?" he says. Gerard nods, eyes wide. They're alone in a room together and the door is locked. Gerard's fantasies might just come true. "I hear you painted that mural on the first floor...by the auditorium?"
Gerard's flush deepens. "I, uh, sketched it. And helped paint it, yeah."
Mr. Iero nods and looks down at Gerard's hoodie. "You're talented."
"Thanks."
Gerard thinks maybe he's lost control of his motor skills because Mr. Iero reaches for his hoodie and he does nothing to stop it. It leaves his grasp as Mr. Iero lays it on a chair. The corner of his lips turn up just slightly.
"You seemed really distracted during the test," Mr. Iero says, looking through the papers next to him. Gerard is frozen to the spot, unable to think coherent thoughts or use his words. When the teacher sees the stricken look on his face, he adds, matter-of-factly, "I mean, you were staring at me half the time."
"I-I..." Gerard says. Mr. Iero pulls out Gerard's exam and skims it. "I'm gonna be late for my next class."
Gerard has a sick desire to please Mr. Iero and an even sicker desire to have some strange fantasy pan out in the next few minutes, despite his nerves, and the almost painful pressure in the left side of his chest increases when Mr. Iero says, "I'll give you a note.
"Anyway, you didn't do very well on this exam," he goes on. Gerard tries to look over but Mr. Iero holds the test away. The bell rings and Gerard sighs anxiously, his very obvious boner losing interest as he's filled with nerves. "While you're here, I can give you a chance to fix some of your answers. If..."
