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Contrary to popular belief, no, Hugo Vega didn't find all muscled men attractive. He didn't find all men attractive, period! And he was good at reserving romantic-or-otherwise thoughts for very specific times. He might've watched wrestling for only one reason as a boy, but now he could appreciate the spectacle in its entirety, from all angles.
Indeed. He was a grown man and had moved-past the days where his thoughts were consumed almost exclusively by other humans and what they meant to him!
...
He told himself this as he noted the appearance of a man he'd never seen before, walking out of the front office with a limping teenager who held an ice pack to her face. The teachers in the school had already all heard about what happened-- a scuffle that didn't amount to much ending-up in Tiffy J. tripping and clunking her jaw against a desk.
You would've thought she'd bitten her tongue and started leaving the mortal realm, with how fast the story spread, but it was just a broken tooth.
That's not what Hugo was occupied with the moment, though.
Instead, he was making quick glances at her father in between him fumbling with the keys to the textbook closet. It took him a little longer than he'd have thought necessary, which he was willing to attribute the blame to both being distracted and to him stalling so he could get a better look of how small, short curls sat against the neck of the man's far-too-tight turtleneck.
Which gave an amazing reference to the muscles he was hiding under the cloth, and the bit of pudge on his hips that dipped under his less-revealing jeans. He could only assume that the man's bottom was so round as a result of that bit of fat.
... Gah!
He hissed silently at himself, raising his eyes to the ceiling in disappointment before frowning at the locked doorknob in his hands and fiddling even more with it. "Shouldn't be thinking this way..." He muttered to himself, finally getting the handle open and yanking the keys out to push the door in.
Hugo thought it was perfectly reasonable for him to feel ashamed for thinking of someone else that way. He was Mr. Vega right now, he was a teacher. An authority over the future generation, he couldn't be... ogling whatever man happened to cross his path.
He smirked to himself, sighing-out a laugh as he recalled a different word his kids would say for his situation: "thirsting."
While he couldn't (often) give full marks for essays turned-in with grammatical errors and adjectives used such as 'lit' or 'savage', it spiced-up his marking process and made him laugh to himself. At least they weren't plagiarising!
Yes, this was a better thing to think about. The brats (and not-so-brats) he had to teach rather than how he'd REALLY like to know how it'd feel to be put into a chokehold by Tiffy J.'s dad--
"There I go again..." He muttered. He hadn't turned on the light in the room because he pretty much knew every nook and cranny by heart. In the next moment, though, he regretted his decision. A familiar voice came from the dark:
"What are you doing again, Dad-- er, Hugo?"
"Sweet ma--"
He didn't have time to relish how nice it felt to be called dad because he was busy shrieking. Good Lord, what a shriek! It was short, thankfully, but Hugo immediately regretted it when he heard snickering coming from behind one of the shelves. With his hand to his beating heart and his eyes turned skyward, he walked back to the entrance and flicked the light on to see his son's signature orange hoodie (with the kid inside) hiding away behind the books.
It didn't look, or smell, like he'd been doing anything scandalous which only confused him more.
His confusion did nothing to assuage the fright he'd just gotten, though, raising his voice to a teacherly-level and marching right up to the bookcase Ernest was behind. "Hugo--! Ah... Er-Ernest! What on earth are you doing in here!? The door was locked!"
The kid shrugged nonchalantly, but Hugo could see the amusement in his eyes. "Another teacher came in so I wondered if they'd catch me trying to sneak in. Then they didn't, and locked me in here, so I wanted to see how long it would take for anyone to notice."
As a father, Hugo didn't know if this was a cry for love and attention or not. As a teacher, he saw this as the typical meddlesome behaviour Ernest Hemingway Vega would get up to. "You have a phone, Ernest, you could've told anyone you were stuck in here."
A small 'oh, right...' confirmed Hugo's suspicions that this most certainly had not been planned on Ernest's part.
Regardless, the game was over, and Hugo was dragging Ernest out of the shelves by the sleeve of his hoodie. Tense silence fell between them both, with Ernest just wanting to run off and pretend he hadn't been found-out for being a dumbass and with Hugo not knowing what to say. How did he think this was a good idea? How could he have forgotten he had a phone!? Ay...
This line of thought, however, made him remember the time his son was nearly 'Cask of Amontillado'-d. While he was very disappointed that he hadn't figured out for twenty minutes what was going on (and had been lured so easily by wine, of all things) at the time, he couldn't help but snicker to himself, now. He didn't mean to. He tried schooling his face before the grin became even more apparent, but Ernest had heard the laughter and pulled his arm away, looking up at Hugo with a rebellious frown. "What's so funny?"
Hugo really did feel bad for laughing right now. His son must've gotten even more embarrassed, especially when the only response that came from Mr. Vega was his hand clapping over his own mouth and him shaking his head, trying not to laugh more only the end up laughing through his nose.
"God, whatever!" Ernest's voice rose to the point that it did whenever he wanted to get the last word in before stomping out, and he soon did just that. Hugo was left in the book room to giggle to himself.
He composed himself before long, wiping his eye after it had gotten teary and sighing deeply. He nearly walked out the door without the textbooks he'd come to collect, and as he whirred around to start grabbing them up in two neat stacks, he remembered that he'd left his class alone for a bit longer than he would've liked and a panic set in.
It was just a general panic. The kids wouldn't set anything on fire-- again-- and he knew this. But the realisation still lit a fire under his ass and he hurried from the room, locking it behind him before hastily walking down the hall. As fast as he could without it being considered 'running'.
Could teachers be called-out for running in the halls? Lord knows the kids would do it before anyone of real authority had any time to...
He turned the corner, almost home free, when he came to a screeching halt. He'd run right into someone else, their shoulders bumping and three of the textbooks in Hugo's arms falling to the ground with a loud thud. The impact itself hadn't been enough to topple Hugo, but in the split second immediately afterwards, he didn't know whether to put one foot in front of the other to catch himself or turn to the person he'd hit to start apologising profusely, and it ended in him tumbling down, dropping another heavy book.
Oh God. His eas were burning and his eyes were wide. He stared at the ground in horror for a moment before adjusting his glasses and looking up, the apology leaving his mouth before he'd even seen who was in front of him.
A surprised, very handsome face. That of Tiffy J.'s father. He was already asking Hugo if he was alright and bending down to help pick-up the fallen items-- including Hugo.
Their hands went for the same textbook but Hugo expertly pulled his own back to grab another one from the ground. He noticed the other father's hand being extended to him next and he looked away, blushing even harder, and then harder again when he noticed some of his kids were staring from inside his classroom.
"No, no, I'm fine..." He assured, voice meek despite him really wanting to play this off like he wasn't affected. At all. By the fall or this cursed, ruggedly-handsome dad.
He pushed himself up to a standing position, taking his textbooks back and giving a thankful smile and bow of his head to the helpful stranger. He landed weird on one of his hands, but he probably wouldn't be using that wrist for much, any time soon. Probably.
"Again, sir, I apologise profusely... That was entirely my fault." He was going to continue his string of apologies when Tiffy J.'s dad clapped a (big, strong) hand on his shoulder and squeezed, laughing it off. "Don't worry about it. This place is, uh..." His hand dropped from Hugo's shoulder and the teacher wondered if he was staring too hard at this man, "--Hectic, if you don't mind me saying."
A sudden burst of awkward, nervous laughter erupted from Hugo's mouth and he had to cover his mouth, "No, no, I think everyone here would agree with you. Public schools, right?"
He was proud to say his voice didn't waver, and the man didn't seem off-put at all by Hugo's presence. In fact, he laughed a small laugh, too, and nodded. "Don't I know it. Have a good day, Mr. Vega."
And off he went...
Hugo wouldn't admit that he watched him go for longer than he should've, feeling almost forlorn like a... soldier wife watching her husband leave overseas.
B-but he snapped out of it quickly! And he was back to rushing for his classroom, pointedly not thinking about how that dad had seemed completely unphased by crashing into a taller, almost-as-muscular Hugo. Damn, he was built like a brick wall!
He shut the classroom door behind him quickly and quietly, taking a silent, deep breath before turning around to greet his class again. His face was still warm but he was glad to see that no one was making a comment of what just happened and that nothing terrible had happened. It was oddly silent, but right now, that's what the Vega needed.
He walked to his desk at the front of the room, setting his cargo down. "Alright! New transfers, come get your textbooks!"
The room would soon be quiet as most people read, ro pretended to read, from their books. It'd give time for Mr. Vega to reflect on what just happened, because as guilty as he might've felt about it, it was better to just admit to himself that he had a little crush and then get over it.
He... briefly wondered if he should get back into dating... before he was snapped out of his thoughts by three kids in the back starting to tear-up pieces of paper, chew them, and lift straws to their mouths.
"Hey!"