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Maybe we could simply...
“What a day!” Marcus bellowed, unnecessarily loud in the empty classroom. Used to his partner and best friend’s shenanigans, Wije’s typing remained unaffected by the sudden interruption. He found the Arts teacher’s dramatics familiar and - dare he say? - endearing. Wije smiled softly at his screen as Marcus pulled a chair from the front row to sit directly next to him. The brunette flopped into it and rested his cheek on his partner’s.
The English teacher continued fiddling with the marking criteria rubric for his Year 10 Literature class. The original document was of unknown origins and had no clear alignment to any curriculum written in the last two decades. Wije refused to let this abomination continue to be used to assess students’ work.
Marcus sighed loudly and dropped his head down onto Wije’s right shoulder. When the English teacher continued as he had been, without acknowledging the other, the brunette grumbled.
“Fucking fine, I see how it is,” he snarked. “Poor Marcus, ignored and frozen by the ice queen that is Wije…”
Both men knew there was no heat behind it. Both knew Marcus was just looking for attention. Both knew Wije was listening and biting back a grin. Both knew it was just a waiting game to see who cracked first.
Marcus tilted his face towards the English teacher’s side profile, puppy-dog eyes at the ready; Irises gleaming. Tears welling. A gentle flush somehow brought to his cheeks by pure determination. Eyebrows upturned. Mouth open oh-so-slightly. This was Wije’s weakness… if he made direct eye contact.
The English teacher kept his head and eyes resolutely facing the screen, squinting with great intensity at the cells that refused to merge without fucking up the entire two columns to the left.
Marcus snuggled closer, whispering into Wije’s ear with his best Austenian inflection,
“Poor Master Marcus. Feeling oh so alone and unloved without his dearest suitor’s attention and affections…”
The silence that followed was short-lived - interrupted by undignified snorts of laughter from both men. The brunette wiped his eyes and glanced towards Wije, displeased to see that the bastard had managed to maintain eye-contact with the computer screen as chuckles still wracked his body.
He sighed deeply again; this time with a heavy sense of defeat.
“Fine, fine, I cave. You win. Will ya look at me now?” he grumbled.
Wije clicked save like lightning before turning eagerly to face his lover. He couldn’t contain the fond grin that split his face if he’d tried. Marcus had always been his best friend, but he was continuously dumbfounded at reminders that he was now… his man. Wije leaned his face a hair’s breadth away from his lover’s. He allowed his eyes to dart eagerly over every square centimetre of the face he knew oh so well - because he could. When Marcus smiled back with equal intensity, Wije closed the miniscule gap between them -...
The English teacher continued fiddling with the marking criteria rubric for his Year 10 Literature class. The original document was of unknown origins and had no clear alignment to any curriculum written in the last two decades. Wije refused to let this abomination continue to be used to assess students’ work.
Marcus sighed loudly and dropped his head down onto Wije’s right shoulder. When the English teacher continued as he had been, without acknowledging the other, the brunette grumbled.
“Fucking fine, I see how it is,” he snarked. “Poor Marcus, ignored and frozen by the ice queen that is Wije…”
Both men knew there was no heat behind it. Both knew Marcus was just looking for attention. Both knew Wije was listening and biting back a grin. Both knew it was just a waiting game to see who cracked first.
Marcus tilted his face towards the English teacher’s side profile, puppy-dog eyes at the ready; Irises gleaming. Tears welling. A gentle flush somehow brought to his cheeks by pure determination. Eyebrows upturned. Mouth open oh-so-slightly. This was Wije’s weakness… if he made direct eye contact.
The English teacher kept his head and eyes resolutely facing the screen, squinting with great intensity at the cells that refused to merge without fucking up the entire two columns to the left.
Marcus snuggled closer, whispering into Wije’s ear with his best Austenian inflection,
“Poor Master Marcus. Feeling oh so alone and unloved without his dearest suitor’s attention and affections…”
The silence that followed was short-lived - interrupted by undignified snorts of laughter from both men. The brunette wiped his eyes and glanced towards Wije, displeased to see that the bastard had managed to maintain eye-contact with the computer screen as chuckles still wracked his body.
He sighed deeply again; this time with a heavy sense of defeat.
“Fine, fine, I cave. You win. Will ya look at me now?” he grumbled.
Wije clicked save like lightning before turning eagerly to face his lover. He couldn’t contain the fond grin that split his face if he’d tried. Marcus had always been his best friend, but he was continuously dumbfounded at reminders that he was now… his man. Wije leaned his face a hair’s breadth away from his lover’s. He allowed his eyes to dart eagerly over every square centimetre of the face he knew oh so well - because he could. When Marcus smiled back with equal intensity, Wije closed the miniscule gap between them -...
