Chapter Text
How I wound up teaching Latin in a Normal high school, I still don’t quite understand, but here I am. I always wanted to teach - (as much as I dislike children, I don’t mind teenagers) - so I was originally planning on becoming a professor at Watford. After the whole disaster with the Mage, however, I have just a few too many traumatic memories associated with the school to feel comfortable spending all my time there. Besides, that would mean being away from Snow, and that’s never something I’d willingly choose.
Working at a Normal school has its benefits, especially when you’re in a gay relationship with your former mortal enemy, who also happens to be the savior of mages and the first person ever to lose their magick. So no, I’m not too terribly upset about my work environment. Definitely fewer chimaera attacks, and aside from the comfort of only being known as the strict Latin teacher instead of the sole heir to the Pitch family name, I find at least some comfort in hiding my sexuality from my students.
Of course I don’t like to hide myself, but it’s lovely to have a place in which nobody is asking me invasive questions and berating me for my sexuality. None of the students here are very invested in finding out about my personal life, as they all find me at least mildly terrifying, and honestly I’m perfectly content to keep it that way.
“Can anyone tell me what the phrase ‘aut cum scuto aut in scuto’ means?” I ask the class. Nina raises her hand immediately and I hold back a smile. She reminds me an awful lot of Bunce in her Watford years. “Anyone other than Nina?” The class giggles, and Nina rolls her eyes. I look around to see Peter, a very quiet boy I believe is mortified by my presence, raise his hand tentatively. “Peter?”
He squeaks, like he hadn’t expected me to notice him, and he regrets raising his hand in the first place. “Do or die, sir, correct?” he asks stiffly. I nod approvingly.
“That’s correct. Well done, Peter.” He turns red and buries his face in a book. His friend pats him on the back, chuckling silently. “Moving along, would anyone like to volunteer to come up and—” I’m cut off by my phone ringing, which immediately catches my attention, because everyone knows not to call me during school hours. My heart rate picks up.
“One moment everyone, I have to check this.” The class starts whispering. It’s understandable, since I’m usually very professional and this is very out of the ordinary. I check the name of the caller, and my stomach drops when I see Simon’s contact. I curse under my breath.
“Simon? Are you okay, what happened?” I ask hurriedly.
“What? Oh, I’m fine, it’s just… you left your lunch at home. So I brought it here but I don’t know how to get in.” I let out a deep sigh of relief.
“You should have just texted me, you nearly gave me a heart attack there, you know.” I can’t see his face but I know he’s pouting.
“I’m sorry, darling, I just wanted to make sure you didn’t starve. Now tell me what I need to do to get in and drop it off, I feel really awkward just standing here.” I shake my head, laughing under my breath, my heart melting a bit from the pet name. After explaining to him what to do and alerting the front desk that he’s here, I hang up the phone and turn back to the class.
“Sorry, everyone, I forgot something at home, so my—” I hesitate for a millisecond, deciding on what title to give Simon. “—roommate is bringing it here. Apologies for the interruption. Now, back to Latin, then.”
We continue class for around five minutes before Snow appears in the window next to the door looking incredibly awkward. I send Agatha (a tragic name for a student of mine to have, I know) to open the door for him, who giggles when she takes in his dishevelled appearance. “Hi Baz,” he says, flashing me a grin. Crowley, I’m ready to die. He is so not allowed to smile at me like that in a place I’m closeted. With an amount of self control that might impress my father, I beckon him over to my desk without a word.
He shuffles over to me and hands me a grey bag which carries leftover salad from dinner the other night. “Thank you, Snow. Fancy meeting my class?” He nods excitedly. I steer him over to the centre of the room. “As I said before, this is my roommate—” Snow shoots me a small disapproving glance at that, he doesn’t like me being closeted, thinks it’s unhealthy for me to keep myself hidden, “—Simon Snow.” Nina covers up a laugh with a cough. I almost smile. “Yes, I know, it sounds like a bad novel’s main character, but alas.” Simon smacks my shoulder and glares playfully at me.
“He’s wanted to meet my class for a while, I honestly wouldn’t be surprised to find out he took my lunch from my bag this morning so he’d have an excuse to.” Snow snorts next to me. “So, since we only have around five minutes of class left, I think it would be okay if you all wanted to ask him some questions and you could properly meet.” The class murmurs excitedly. I don’t often allow them to have free time for no reason.
I take a seat at my desk and relax, smirking at Simon, who glares at me before addressing the class. “Well, hi, I guess. My name’s Simon, as he said. I’m 24 years old, I’ve lived with Baz since I was 11, because we were roommates at our boarding school, and my favorite food is scones. So I guess I’ll take questions if you have them?”
Several kids raise their hands, and Snow points to Aoife first. “You said you’ve lived with Mr. Pitch since you were 11?” Snow nods. “How was that?” she asks, smirking too her friends in amusement.
“Well it wasn’t always fun, I’ll say that, especially because we absolutely hated each other for a while. Our parents had a longstanding feud, and I came from an orphanage whereas he came from a long line of a very rich family and lived in a bloody castle, so we fought a lot. But I rather enjoy his company now that we’ve gotten older. He’s not as big a prick as he seems, I promise.” Aoife grins.
Snow calls on another student, a boy named William. “What school did you go to?”
“Watford. I got in on a scholarship, but Baz’s mum was the old headmistress.” William groans.
“Well you can’t expect anyone who wasn’t posh to be at that school, I suppose. Mr. Pitch really lived in a castle then?” I scoff.
“It’s a Victorian manor, and it’s currently occupied by my father and his family. I live in a London apartment I’ll have you know.” William rolls his eyes.
“Still, though…”
“Do you have a girlfriend?” Agatha asks when she’s called (because of COURSE it’s her, it was too perfect an opportunity for the universe to ignore it I suppose). He stiffens and shoots me a worried look. I raise my eyebrow.
“I, uh. I have a boyfriend, actually.”
“Oh, is he nice?” she asks. I sigh in relief.
Snow laughs. “I suppose. He thinks I’m a bit ridiculous, but he’s sweet when he wants to be.”
“Well that’s good, then,” Agatha responds. The bell rings, and the class starts packing up.
“Don’t forget, you all have an essay due next week. Don’t put it off until the night before, I don’t want to read caffeine-fueled rambling for an entire weekend.”
“Bye everyone,” Snow calls. “It was nice meeting you all!” Several students stop to say goodbye to him as they exit.
The classroom empties slowly, and I finally get to let down my walls a bit and look at my stunning boyfriend. “Thank you for coming, love, I appreciate it a lot. Would you like to stay for my lunch break?” Simon nods eagerly.
I sit at my desk and take out my food as he tells me a story about Bunce and her friend from uni and a failed baking attempt. I must admit, I’m paying much more attention to his pretty eyes than his story, and I can’t resist kissing his forehead lightly once he finishes it.
“Uh, Mr. Pitch? I can come back if this isn’t a good time, I just had a few questions on the essay…” squeaks a small voice from the doorway. My heart stops. I look over and see Peter, redder than a cherry, looking very frightened.
Fuck.