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The students stared blankly at Steve. They have been for the past minute.
Teaching art was not really something that Steve ever thought he would be doing with his life. He would much rather be a professional artist, selling his work or opening exhibits. Alas, not everyone’s dreams were achieved, and he had to make money somehow.
Not that he thought teaching would be an entirely horrible experience. It was just that he had come to this school in the middle of the semester after the last art teacher left abruptly, and five minutes into teaching, Steve discovered that the last art teacher... didn’t do much teaching.
“No? Nothing?” Steve asked again. The students were still silent, some of them already close to dozing off. He turned to the blackboard. “Right. Okay, so one of the elements of art is a line, which I’m sure you all are familiar with. And—” he paused, looking at the container where there was supposed to be chalk. “Uh, where did all the chalk go?”
There was a small snicker in the back corner of the room. The girl in front told Steve: “They crushed it earlier before you came in and they pretended it was coke.”
Steve gave the boys at the back an unimpressed look and made a mental note never to be late to his class again (to be fair, his motorcycle had broken down this morning and he had to take an unplanned trip on the subway). “I’ll deal with you later,” he muttered. “Please don’t make too much noise.” They were definitely going to make noise. “I’m just going to borrow chalk next door.”
The class next door was a math class, that much Steve was sure of. There were graphs drawn on the board, and a beautiful one-armed man was smiling at them.
Steve hesitated, his hand raised over the door to knock. The math teacher noticed him first, though, already waving him in. Though he was still talking as Steve gently pushed open the door.
“Alright, so we’re down to the last step,” the teacher was saying to the class, holding up a hand to Steve that said just a moment. “What’s 384 plus 336?”
Steve knew he wasn’t the one being asked, but he tried to solve it in his mind anyway. A student beat him to it, though.
“Six!” said someone in the second row, grinning widely. The whole class laughed.
The teacher turned around, smiling too. He pointed his chalk at the boy and nodded approvingly. “That’s right!” he said and wrote down 6! on the board, boxing it in as the final answer.
Steve blinked. That wasn’t right.
He was no math genius, but he was sure that the answer was nowhere near six.
The teacher put the chalk down and wiped his hand on his pants. He looked at Steve. “Hey. What’s up?”
Steve was still too busy wondering if this guy knew math at all. “Uh, why’s the answer six?” he asked.
The teacher smirked, gesturing towards his class. “Is he right, guys?”
“No, sir, it’s six!” yelled a different student. Then they all laughed again. Either Steve was missing something, or this teacher was horrible at math. Steve wouldn’t be surprised if it were the latter—SHIELD’s last art teacher proved that not all their teachers were capable of doing their jobs.
Maybe he could just take it up with the principal. For now, he still had a class to go back to. “I just need to borrow some chalk?”
The other teacher nodded, picking up two new pieces from his container. “Let me guess, they crushed yours?”
“Something like that,” Steve muttered.
“You gotta keep them in a safe place if you aren’t in your class, pal.”
Steve just nodded stiffly. He wasn’t going to take advice from a math teacher who couldn’t add. No matter how pretty the guy may be.
“Steve Rogers, right?” a woman asked, sitting next to him during their lunch break. “I’m Natasha. I teach English.”
“Er, yeah, that’s me. I’m Steve. Art.”
“You any good? The last art guy sucked.”
“I’m probably better.” Though that didn’t really say much. The last guy taught the kids nothing.
Steve took a bite off his lunch and then realized this was his chance to ask about the math teacher earlier. He glanced at Natasha. “Do you know the math teacher... the, uh, the guy with one arm?” he winced, not sure if that was an offensive description. It was the easiest trait to point out, though.
Natasha raised an eyebrow rather intimidatingly. “You mean Barnes? He’s a close friend. If you’ve got an issue with the arm, I swear to God—"
“What? What? No!” Steve shouted. “No! Of course not. It’s just... I don’t think he... knows what he’s doing?”
Natasha was glaring at him. Perhaps asking someone who claimed to be a close friend of Barnes was not one of Steve’s best ideas. “He’s been teaching here for seven years, what the hell are you talking about?”
“Okay, but he can’t do basic addition, alright? I overheard him this morning tell the kids that three hundred something plus... three hundred something else was six. That’s not... that’s not right. Like, at all. But the kids seemed to believe it.”
Natasha blinked at him, though she looked more confused than angry. “Are you sure you heard right?”
Steve nodded.
She pursed her lips. “I’ll ask him about it. But I can assure you, Rogers, he’s really qualified to do what he does. The highest AP Calc scores come from his class.”
The last thing Steve expected when he walked into his classroom the next day was Barnes sitting on his chair, smiling at him.
“I hear you think I can’t add,” Barnes said, head tilted. “Or teach, for that matter.”
Steve stared. He had nothing to say.
Barnes clicked his tongue and chuckled softly. He stood from Steve’s chair, picking up a piece of chalk and writing on the board, 6!.
“Search this up.” He glanced at Steve. “Humor me.”
“Now?” Steve asked, already in the middle of pulling out his phone.
“Sure. We’ve got,” Barnes looked at his watch, “about thirty minutes before class. Oh!” He pointedly underlined the exclamation point. “Don’t forget to include this in the search, by the way.”
Not sure why his heart was beating nervously, Steve typed in 6! on Google, watching the page load. A calculator appeared on his screen with the numbers 6! = 720 written on it.
Barnes must’ve seen the realization dawn on Steve’s face. His grin widened. “Six factorial. I like to joke with the kids that you just shout the number instead of saying factorial, you know?”
Steve was still gaping at the screen, a little mortified. “Fuck. I am so sorry for saying you were a bad teacher.”
“I got a way you could apologize for that,” said Barnes with a smirk. “Say, a date?”
Steve knew for sure he was red. He stammered a little, rubbing the back of his neck. “H—how do you even know if I’m into... guys?”
“I don’t.” Barnes shrugged. “I can only hope.”
“You wanna date me... after I insulted you.”
“Not date you yet. Slow down. Just one date, then we’ll see.” Barnes patted his left shoulder, the one missing an arm. “I mean, I think it’s actually nice that you were willing to insult me even if I was missing an arm. Some people think it’s too insensitive to say anything bad about me just ‘cause I’m missing an arm.”
“I’ve only dated once.”
“Okay...?”
“I don’t really have much experience.”
“Well, I do.” Barnes paused and frowned. “Well, did. I haven’t been on many dates since I lost my arm. But it’ll be fine. Nat says it’s good for me to socialize.”
“You seem to socialize with the kids just fine.”
Barnes looked at him, deadpan. “That’s illegal.”
“Wha—no! No!” Steve shook his head. Fuck. He really was ruining all chances with this guy. Why couldn’t he just say yes like any normal person would? “I just mean you’re good at interacting with them! Not that you would date them.”
There was another second of seriousness before Bucky’s mouth twitched, and suddenly, he was laughing.
“Relax. I know what you meant.”
Steve blinked at him and huffed. “You’re an asshole.”
Barnes just smiled innocently, straightening up. “So is the date a yes or a no?”
“What’s your first name?” Steve was not going on a date with a guy he was calling Barnes in his head.
“Bucky. Well, James.” Bucky just waved his hand in the air. “Bucky is a nickname. No one calls me James unless they’re fucking with me. Like Nat does on a daily basis.”
Steve hummed. “And if I tell you I’m straight?”
“I’ll back off. Promise.”
He grinned. “It’s a yes.”
One month later found Steve and Bucky eating lunch together in the break room as they have been doing every day since they started dating. Sam Wilson, the gym teacher, was in front of them, doing some finance things for his personal life (at least, that was what Steve assumed he was doing).
“Barnes, twenty-four times five…?” Sam asked, not looking up.
Steve perked up, nudging Bucky. Bucky just grinned at him and urged him on.
“Five!” Steve exclaimed before he and Bucky dissolved into a fit of laughter that had everyone in the break room staring at them.
Sam drew his eyebrows together as he looked up at them, a little concerned. “What the fuck?”
“God, you’re amazing,” Bucky laughed, burying his face in the crook of Steve’s neck. He gave it a small kiss. “I’m so lucky.”
Before Steve could respond, Natasha walked in, beelining towards them.
“Idiots!” she said, smacking both Steve and Bucky’s heads at the same time as she sat next to Bucky.
“Ow,” Bucky grumbled, rubbing his head as he detached from Steve. “What the hell?”
“The whole school knows about you two now,” Natasha said, sliding over her phone so Steve and Bucky could see. “People have been sending this around the campus and a student accidentally airdropped it to me.”
It was a picture of Steve and Bucky in a restaurant, holding hands while they were sharing a candle lit dinner at a romantic place.
“Well, we weren’t keeping it a secret,” Bucky shrugged, stuffing his mouth with rice. He nudged the phone back to Natasha. “What’s so wrong about it? We don’t do PDA in school.”
Natasha rolled her eyes, turning her phone off. “You know how the students get. They’ll be talking about this for months.”
“We’ll ignore them.”
“Buck’s right. It’s fine.”
“The moment you step out of those doors, James, you won’t hear the end of it,” Natasha warned. “They’ve only started spreading it during lunch.”
“I think some of the kids had that photo since first period,” Steve admitted. “I’ve been getting really weird smiles.”
Bucky snorted. “It’s not just gonna be smiles, Stevie. We’ll get innuendos. You sure you can keep your cheeks blush-free?”
Steve rolled his eyes. “I’m sure I’ll manage.”
Steve did not manage.