Work Text:
When Allison steps into her classroom at half past seven, a steaming mug of coffee in one hand and a stack of file folders in the other, there’s a bouquet of violets sitting on her desk. They’re obviously fresh; the color is incredibly vibrant and there’s a pink ribbon wrapped around the plastic holding all the flowers together. When she sits down, she realizes there’s a tiny card tucked underneath the flowers, just large enough to contain two sentences in handwriting she’s all too familiar with.
You’re the most amazing person I know. I love you.
There’s a tiny smilie face drawn beneath the words, crunched into the corner of the page. Allison smiles and traces her fingers along it, recognizing it from the dozens of other notes Kira has left her over the last few months.
Leaning forward slightly, she peeks through the open door at the classroom across the hall. The door is open but the lights are still off, and none of Kira's things are sitting on the desk. She has to be somewhere in the school, probably just a text away, but Allison decides to find her during second period, when they both have the hour off for marking purposes.
Coffee in hand, she walks down the hall, the sound of her clicking heels bouncing off each wall. She stops at the art department to borrow one of the tall containers they use for washing their brushes. Lydia, the head teacher, is already setting up her classroom and by the time Allison manages to peel herself away from the conversation, students are starting to trickle into the building.
By the time the first bell of the day rings at quarter after eight, Allison is on her second cup of mediocre staff room coffee. The violets are standing at the corner of her desk, radiant in the sunlight coming through the windows. Their fragrance seems to be filling the room and Allison doesn't think it's possibly for her to be in a better mood.
“Looks like someone has an admirer,” one of her students singsongs as they walk in, nodding towards the vase of flowers.
“Well,” Allison says, glancing across the hall, "you could say that." Although there are still students milling about, slowly making their way to class, she can see Kira bustling around her own desk, hurriedly shoving pens and pencils in drawers. Her hair is pulled back into braided pigtails and she's wearing a black cardigan over a polka-dotted tank top that Allison remembers leaving at her apartment a few weeks ago. Her hands are flying over her desk and she looks frazzled, and Allison wants nothing more than to cross the hall and pull her into a tight hug.
But they'd already decided on no physical displays of affection at work, at least if there were other people present. The school's principal may be remarkably accepting, but Allison doesn't want to push her tolerance.
Besides, her students gossip enough as it is. They don't need another thing to talk about.
Just before the second bell rings, Kira glances her way and flashes a quick, beaming smile, one that Allison can't help but mirror. She forces herself to look away long before she's ready and finishes up her coffee as she gets to her feet and steps out into the hall, ready to hurry any dawdlers on their way. She holds the door for one of her chronically late students and before she pulls it closed, she allows herself one last look across the hall.
Kira is jumping right into her lesson, scrawling something on the chalkboard in bright pink chalk. She's talking a mile a minute, taking a break to gesture wildly every few seconds. She cranes up on her tiptoes to write something at the top of the board and it hits Allison, at that moment, just how much she truly loves Kira.
There's a spot on the corner of Kira's desk that's remarkably free of clutter and dust. It looks like a vase of flowers would fit perfectly there.
As she closes the door and turns back to her yawning students, Allison wonders how long it would take the town florist to whip together a bundle of lilies.