Chapter Text
John smiles and extends his hand. "Mr. McAllister. A pleasure to meet you."
Well, that settles it. George thought John Keating might be a common name, but that face is easy to recognize. He rolls his eyes and returns the shake. "Mr. Keating."
"I must admit, Mr. McAllister, you remind me of someone I went to school with."
"Really? How intriguing."
"It's true. We roomed together, here, in fact."
"Fascinating. What was he like?"
"Oh, you know. Thick-headed, pompous, a bit of a stiff, but oh well."
George chuckles. "I didn't expect you to end up teaching. Perhaps that roommate rubbed off on you."
"I wouldn't give him all the credit. Henry David Thoreau was rather infectious."
"Ah, Mr. McAllister. I see you've met our newest instructor."
"I have, Dr. Nolan." George's tone regains its professionalism, but John's is still full of mirth.
"We attended school together, actually."
"Isn't that a coincidence?"
"Something of that sort." John glances towards George, looking wildly entertained. George holds back a flush.
~~~
George slams the door open. "What the hell is going on here?" The students in the classroom freeze, papers floating up the ground all around them.
"I don't hear enough rips!" John walks out.
"... Mr. Keating."
"Mr. McAllister."
George thinks Oh my God, he's still an idiot, but settles for stumbling out an apology. "I- I didn't know you were here."
"I am."
George looks around the class. Many of the students seem as amused as their teacher. "Ah... So you are. Excuse me." As he walks out, he can vaguely hear the exclamations of "hearts and souls!"
~~~
"Quite an interesting class you gave today, Mr. Keating." He chooses his words carefully, trying to make it clear there's a certain amount of maturity they need to keep. It was easy to fall into their old rapport, but they aren't boys anymore. They're grown men, teachers. And George knows if Dr. Nolan had walked in, John Keating would be out of a job.
"I'm sorry if I shocked you, Mr. McAllister."
"Oh, there's no need to apologize. It was very... fascinating. Misguided though it was."
"You think so?"
And there they go again, back to the same banter. George voicing an opinion, John responding with a grin and asking for elaboration. George always felt like he was walking into a trap when he defended his statements, and he feels that way now. "You take a big risk by encouraging them to be artists, John." The first name slips out, but he's too preoccupied to notice. "When they realize they're not Rembrandts, Shakespeares, or Mozarts, they'll hate you for it."
"We're not talking artists, George, we're talking free thinkers."
"Free thinkers at seventeen?"
"Funny, I never pegged you as a cynic."
The comment stings a bit. Obviously, this isn't the sort of thing John wants to hear, but still. Surely he hasn't forgotten that George attended those same meetings long ago. He's just... Grown up a bit. Gotten wiser, he'd like to think. "Not a cynic... A realist. 'Show me the heart unfettered by foolish dreams, and I'll show you a happy man.'"
"But only in their dreams can man truly be free. Twas always thus, and always thus will be."
George doesn't remember those lines at all. "Tennyson?"
John's eyes spark a bit and he winks- honestly winks. "No. Keating."
George can't help but laugh.
~~~
"You'll be happy to know our old haunt is still occupied."
"What do you mean?"
"A few of my students found an old annual." John grabs a fork. "Do you remember Stanley Wilson sneaking us in?"
"Oh, God. I'd forgotten."
"Neil Perry seemed particularly interested."
"You don't think they'll try to start it up again do you? I mean, do they even know what it is?"
"Well, they did say they could keep a secret or two."
He groans. "Don't go digging things up, John."
"I wasn't. I just thought a teacher was supposed to answer the questions of young learners."
"Right. Hopefully Perry's friends will convince him otherwise. Richard Cameron's sure to say something."
"He reminds me of you, you know. Intelligent, but too concerned with authority."
"And you remind me of Dalton."
John raises an eyebrow. "How so?"
"He's a prick. Good God, John, save some mashed potatoes for the rest of us."
~~~
The minute Charles Dalton stands up with that phone, George knows he was 100% correct.
~~~
The two are catching up in John's office when a photo on the desk catches George's eye. "Who's the woman?"
"Hm? Elizabeth? My fiancé."
"Your... Oh. I just- last time we talked, I mean- I thought you were..." He clears his throat. "Erm... Allen Ginsberg?"
John chuckles. "So old fashioned, Mr. McAllister. One can like both, you know."
"...Oh. Does she live near by?"
"Oh no." He gestures to an unopened envelope.
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be. At least I learned to write at some point, eh?"
There's a moment of silence as George's mind spikes with guilt before he speaks again. "So... Are you still listening to Billie Holiday?"
"Of course. Though I have to admit, I've taken interest in Fats Domino as of late. I don't suppose you've heard I'm Walkin'?"
~~~
None of the teachers seem able to believe the rumors of Welton's English class. Hager can hardly hear the name Keating without looking scandalized. George doesn't doubt a word of it.
~~~
It's a tragedy, no two ways about it. The whole school is shaken, George included. He knew Neil Perry about as well as his other students, but there was no doubt the boy was something special. All his teachers knew he'd go on to do something great.
George can't blame Tom Perry for wanting answers. Any parent would. Still, as soon as he finds out Richard Cameron is being interrogated, he knows John's done for.
~~~
George has taken a page out of John's book by leading a class outside for once. It's nice, he has to admit, the cold breeze as his students go over Latin vocabulary. One student drops his book and the class waits for him to gather it. George turns around, eyes catching the window of John's office. He's staring out, seemingly at nothing, before he catches George's eye.
George waves briefly, and after a beat, John waves back. John smiles warmly at him, and George can't help but think 'oh, that's just not fair'.