Chapter Text
Santa Barbara High School. Shawn Spencer was far, far from a biased man, but he would be a big, fat liar if he said he enjoyed subbing at any other school as much as this one.
The campus was nice enough, with sprawling fields, good facilities, and winning sports teams. (He’d never tell kids at the other schools but he was on Team Officers every time.) He supposed it was to be expected. He’d held a substitute teacher position longer at SBHS than at any other school- and even subbed here long-term once. But what drew his attention (and affection) the most, was the staff.
Burton Guster, his best friend of a millennium, taught chemistry here. If it wasn’t enough for them to be joined at the hip outside of work, Shawn could always pop into a chem class. Not that Gus was as welcoming as he usually was during the hours of eight to three.
Miss Juliet O’Hara- the loveliest ELA team member in all of the land. Kind, good-hearted- hell of a teacher. Shawn had even subbed for her classes a few times. How the Juliet he knew got them so well-behaved was still a mystery to him.
Last… he had Carlton Lassiter. What could he say about Carlton Lassiter? Resident grump- that’d be good enough to start. But Carlton Lassiter was a difficult man to summarize. Shawn had known him for about two years- and subsequently took pleasure and pride in bothering him for just as long. He taught American History with what most would call an iron fist, but the kids somehow liked him. The man got results, and even that was a severe understatement. He was one of those teachers that were unbelievably passionate about their subject. Unbelievably. Who the hell thought the Civil War was that interesting? A man who dresses up as his great-great-grandfather and reenacts it. That’s who. Carlton Lassiter was an intriguing man- a plethora of layers to delve into. Shawn however, concerned himself with one. The reactive layer. The layer Shawn could poke at and pry with nothing but a self-satisfied grin on his face as the man combusted into some furious, flustered, oddly adorable mess.
Today was his second consecutive day playing substitute for Coach McNab. He’d gone all out on the first day- dressed up in the school colors, put on sweatbands, given Dean Winchester’s dodgeball speech- but the second day… things had gotten old quite fast. He threw on a movie for the kids, deeming his first-period class all responsible enough to not kill each other while he was gone.
He’d been so preoccupied with finally being able to play coach that he forgot to visit his favorite sometimes-coworkers. A folly he’d make sure not to repeat today.
“Mornin’ Gus-buster!” He yelled, leaning in the doorway. Shawn was grateful that Gus was one of the few teachers that kept their door open during class. Sure, he was abusing that by bursting in in the middle of class, but hell. It was almost Winter Break, every teacher was just having review day on review day.
“Shawn… morning. What are you doing here?”
“Is that any way to greet your oldest and most dearest friend?” Shawn smiled, throwing his arms out for a hug.
“I saw you on Sunday Shawn.”
“Yes! And that was three whole days ago!”
“I’m tired, Shawn. We’re tired. You have too much energy to be at a high school right now.”
“Such a bummer man,”
“You still haven’t told me what you’re doing here,” He paused, scanning over Shawn’s appearance.
Shawn tightened his mouth into an “o” and reached into his shirt to pull out the lanyard.
“Subbing for gym! The whistle makes me their god.” He beamed, raising it to his mouth.
Quickly, Gus stuck out his hand, forcing Shawn’s own all the way down. “Blow that and you die.”
Shawn smirked at the small symphony of snickers that rose throughout the room. He would have told Gus to rephrase, but decided against it out of some miraculously surviving shred of decency.
“… copy that. Any reason you’re so tired man? Something up?” He whispered, leaning in a bit.
Surprised at his best friend’s apparent sincerity, Gus stepped outside and closed the door. He peered through the window with a warning look to all his students before turning to Shawn.
“Nothing much. We’ve just had consecutive practices to prepare for the Winter Showcase and they’re just not getting it- it isn’t clicking. And my third-period class is so ridiculously far from being ready for finals.” Gus pinched the bridge of his nose, thinking about Tap Club’s inaugural performance.
“Look man, you got this. You’re Tap Man, remember? Those kids will be tapping like hell before you know it. And you’ll knock some sense into P3. Know what I’ve found that works?”
“Shawn, I swear if you say-”
“Kahoot! Kahoot works Gus. You gotta try it. It’s a teacher’s best friend.”
“Dammit Shawn…”
“Look, I’ll find you a good review one. Make your third period do it, see where they need help, you’ll be golden!”
Gus gave into a smile as he clapped Shawn on the shoulder and opened the door.
“Get back to your class Shawn.”
“Mm, I can’t promise you that one Gus. I’ve gotta tour the school!”
Gus rolled his eyes before stepping into the doorway and closing the door behind him.
“Dammit Gus, I thought you were one of the good ones.” He muttered, shuddering as he thought about actually having to open the doors to be a public nuisance.
With a grin on his face, he made his way to the English wing. It was an annoyingly long walk from chemistry, but running down the stairs was always fun for him. Especially during classes when the stairwells were empty.
After what felt like a lifetime, Shawn got to Juliet’s classroom. Sure, his back sweat and his shins burned but- that’s high school walkin’.
“Julesssss!” He said, opening the door and poking his head in. Juliet usually had a calm, relaxed classroom environment, and today was no exception.
“Shawn! What are you doing here?” She smiled, walking to the door and opening it fully.
“Subbing for PE! We’re doing dodgeball- I went all out yesterday, but today they’re just watching Dodgeball: A True Underdog Story. Figured it’d be nice for them. Finals coming up and all.”
“That’s really nice of you Shawn,” She smiled, inviting him in fully. “Everyone say ‘hi Mr. Spencer!’”
The class responded back with a “hi, Mr. Spencer” in unison. Shawn looked at their uncharacteristically happy faces and grinned.
“Please class. Mr. Spencer was my father. Though, I’m pretty sure he goes by Fishmaster Henry now. Call me Mr. Lorensax.”
“… Lorensax?” Juliet looked at him with a quizzical look, cocking her head to the side.
“That’s the Econ teacher in Ferris Bueller. On second thought… call anything but Mr. Lorensax…”
Juliet chuckled, leaning back on her desk as she watched her class. Every student loved Shawn- sure, there was little not to love, but it was still fun to watch.
“Can you do an impression of him?” A voice asked from the sea of students.
“Who asked that?” Shawn said, a smile growing on his face as his ears perked up.
“I think it was Iris. Iris?”
“Yeah. Can you?”
“You’re my favorite,” Shawn smiled, eliciting a cacophony of heys and indignant declarations of unfairness. “Jules, please, please tell me you haven’t taken attendance.”
“I haven’t actually.”
“Yes, yes, yes! Gimme your roster.” Shawn beamed, taking Juliet’s laptop from her outstretched arms.
Shawn gave himself a moment to get into character and practiced some names under his breath. With a deep inhale, he looked to the class with a dead expression and started.
“Allen?” He said, emulating the tone to the best of his abilities.
“Mhm.”
It was more than obvious the kids were trying their best not to laugh, which made Shawn feel great.
“Andersen-”
“Mm,”
“Atkins,”
“Present,”
“Bergeron,”
“Here,”
“Bourne”
“Yeah,”
“Bueller?” He said, smiling as he expected nothing but silence. “Bueller… Bueller…? Bueller?”
“Um, he’s sick,” He heard Juliet say, finishing off the bit. Her tone and intonation were perfect. He supposed he had a bit of competition on his hands. He thanked her with a smile and handed her the laptop back. “That was really good Shawn!”
“You’re not so bad yourself,” He grinned, still on the high from the applause of the children that didn’t know what they were clapping for. “It was great to see you Jules,”
Shawn gave the class a bow as he stepped back to the door. Juliet’s classes were always fun to visit. He thought about checking on his gym class and making sure they were alive, but decided against it, remembering the distance.
“Always a pleasure Shawn,” She grinned, picking up the book she’d been holding when Shawn walked in.
Shawn tipped his imaginary hat and once again exited the classroom with a grin. He closed the door behind him and thanked his lucky stars that humanities and the English hall were so close by.
This class would take the entirety of his charisma to infiltrate. Not the students- god, no. Finding a student that disliked him was more difficult than the stupid game he got the other day with the cups and mugs running from the devil. And that was saying something.
It was the teacher.
The only person at this school that was entirely immune to his charms. Mr. Carlton Jebediah Lassiter.
It was a short walk, but Shawn had to think strategy the entire way there. Bothering someone in the most endearing way possible was the most calculated task one could imagine. Maintaining the aspect of personality while bending it ever so slightly to make the other person feel conflicted by how much they secretly love you- ridiculously difficult. There were no caveats with anyone else- it was just pure, unconditional “I heart Shawn Spencer”. But Mr. Lassiter…
“Goooooood morning Mr. Carly-Lassie!” Shawn said, bursting in. Not even thinking about peaking through the window or sticking his head through the door, he went for the full swing. Perhaps a bad idea in hindsight.
Reveling in the laughs from the students, Shawn shot a smile at the room.
“Mornin’ kids.” He said, looking at them as he walked to Carlton’s desk and leaned on it.
The man himself stood by a student’s desk, presumably helping them with a question as his glasses hung on for dear life. He looked like he was more than ready to punch Shawn- had he said another word- but the substitute pressed on.
“I’m really glad you changed up that monocle thing. That was weird man.”
“Spencer… you’ve got fifteen seconds to exit my classroom. They are trying to finish their review guides, and you are disrupting our learning environment.” He said through gritted teeth and a grimace.
Shawn narrowed his eyes almost immediately, taking in the man’s words fully. They weren’t the most welcoming, but the substantially lessened amount of bite in them today was nothing short of remarkable.
“Fifteen? Someone’s feelin’ generous today, huh? Also, ‘learning environment’? Really? What’s next- is my presence not ‘conducive’ to the ‘learning environment’?”
“Don’t you have a class to teach? And I use the word ‘teach’ very liberally.” Carlton said with the most mirthless grin he could muster.
“Must be one of the few things you do liberally, huh?” He smirked, eliciting an even louder wave of laughter from the class. “Fine, fine. They did dodgeball yesterday, and now they’re watching the masterpiece of cinema that is Dodgeball: A True Underdog Story. That’s the plan for all my classes today.”
He smiled a bit more as he heard some quiet yeses around the room.
“Vulgarity aside, the fact you think that could possibly be educational to them is more than baffling.”
“C’mon Lassie. They’re high schoolers. With finals coming up. They’re tired.”
“Speaking of finals… why don’t you get the- get out before your simple presence causes my kids to bomb this test?”
Shawn sighed, ignoring every single one of Carlton’s words. Looking up, he contracted his face in faux thought. “I already have my lesson for the golf unit planned out. Assuming Coach McNab gets sick then too. Which is becoming a far too usual occurrence for comfort, by the way. I should check on him sometime. Can you guess which one?”
“I don’t have time to play your stupid games, Spencer. Can you read or do we need to send you to Miss O’Hara’s? Test. Tomorrow.” He said, gritting his teeth as he walked to where Shawn leaned on his desk. He aggressively tapped the board with his yardstick, blue eyes baring into Shawn’s soul.
“No- god, please no. I just came from there. My legs are Jell-o, man. C’mon, Just guess. I’ll be out of your hair.”
“… Fine. Happy Gilmore.” Carlton knew the obvious choice was always risky with Shawn, but he figured that the quicker he could get Shawn out of his room, the more advantageous today’s class could be.
“Ladies and gents, people and friends- round of applause for Mr. Carlton Lassiter!” Shawn smiled, reaching for Carlton’s hand to lead him into a bow. Carlton slapped it away with a grunt and gave the class his best, (ultimately futile) death stare, but hell, it was worth a shot.
Regardless of his threat, the class looked on amusedly at the two-man circus and laughed. Why the hell did he enter this profession…?
“Truth be told, I was in a hockey mood. But alas, the curriculum demanded dodgeball. You know what? Fuck it. I should go put on The Mighty Ducks.”
“SPENCER! There are kids here. Out. Out!” Carlton said, now visibly ready to forcibly remove Shawn Spencer from his classroom.
“I think The Mighty Ducks is more than appropriate. But sure, if it floats your boat, we can watch that video of Brad Marchand shopping for a cowboy hat. Fuckin’ adorable.”
“Spencer… if you don’t remove yourself from this room in the next five seconds…”
Carlton stared right at Shawn, who didn’t look as if he was even close to shying away from the stare-down. The room was dead silent until one little brave student soul decided to make himself known to the wrath of Lassiter.
“Dr. Lassiter you’re acting like we’ve never cursed…”
Carlton’s head snapped away from staring Shawn down and looked out into the sea of students.
“Who said that? I’d watch where you step.”
The class came bounding out of the silence with a combination of muffled snickers and full-out laughter, much to Carlton’s chagrin.
Shawn chuckled as he looked out into Carlton’s history class. Visibly smart kids, but of course, where would they be without their fearless leader? They’d ace their final tomorrow, and Carlton would be in a way better mood. Shawn was sure of it.
Maybe Shawn would finally have the opportunity to ask him something he’d been meaning to ask for a while. “That’s a good kid Lassie. A+ for you!”
“Spencer, you do not get to grade my class. OUT. Now. And do not call me that!”
“Funny, you didn’t take much issue with it last night!” He said with a laugh, leaning back on Carlton’s desk. It came out organically. Almost a reflex.
Carlton’s face visibly reddened, which Shawn felt a little bad over. He could tell that Lassiter was a man who relished his peers’ and students' respect. It wasn’t like they’d disrespect him or anything, though- right?
The class broke out into a cacophony of oohs and ahhs. Snorts, giggles, the like.
“He’s being a smartass. I saw him at the store yesterday evening, and he called me that. I was tired, so I didn’t say anything. Nothing more, nothing less.” Carlton said with a glare directed at Shawn. He said it with what he believed was an air of confidence, but to the students (and Shawn), he looked like a nervous wreck.
Shawn made an amused face at the lie before turning to address the class. “Mr. Lassiter is entirely correct. He was on his weekly triple-ply run and I was grabbing me some Lucky Charms. Cereal is- so good at night.”
Carlton furrowed his brows, supposing that a rumor about him needing toilet paper was far better than one about him and Spencer… god, he didn’t even want to entertain the thought.
The class was silent for a moment, considering the story before one of the kids bravely spoke aloud the consensus each student had reached in their heads.
“Yeahhhh, they’re fucking.”
“Who- Spencer. I. Want you-” Carlton was fuming. The hell that kid was going to face…
Shawn couldn’t help but seize the opportunity, interrupting as Carlton punctuated between each word. “Dude, not in front of the kiddies.” He paused briefly, knowing it couldn’t last long with the ticking time bomb that was Carlton Lassiter.
“Later,” he mouthed, opening his mouth as he winked exaggeratedly.
“OUT! OUT. I WANT YOU OUT- NOW!” Carlton grabbed Shawn by the back of his shoulders as he shoved him toward the door. His face was hotter than he could have ever imagined it getting. Those damn kids. That- damn Spencer.
“Alright, alright Lass. I’ve gotta go show those kids that I know every line of The Mighty Ducks anyway.” He smiled, hoping the kids wouldn’t give Carlton too much of a hard time about this.
“Bye kids! Torture him for me, yeah? And give that final hell!” He yelled as Carlton finally pushed him out of the door.
“Bye Mr. Spencer!” Resounded across the room, each student finishing their sentence at different times because of their laughter.
“Please, Mr. Spencer was my father! And is. The only way to make Mr. Spencer acceptable is to make it cooler. Spenciter could work,” He said, unsure that his voice could even trespass fully through the class.
From the laughter resounding even louder through the classroom and the further reddening of Mr. Lassiter’s face… he guessed it did.