Work Text:
A light snowfall can be seen outside the old windows of the prestigious prep school. In her office, the once high-strung headmistress buttons up her long, dark winter coat. Her brown-red hair is practically a mess and her blouse is coming undone, so tired that she doesn’t seem to care about the world around her.
In the mostly quiet hallways of the elementary school, a calm, soft electric guitar melody can be heard throughout the corridor. A certain chestnut haired guitarist in a tacky sweater vest is playing his heart out, not caring about the world around him.
Ms. Rosalie Mullins emerges from her office in her winter clothes to leave for the day, when’s she hears that beautiful melody. She can’t help but smile. She knows exactly where it’s coming from.
Sat on a bench in the hallway is Mr. Dewey Finn, a teacher that isn’t technically “a teacher” by law.
Rosalie approaches him, a kind look on her face. “You’re here quite late, Mr. Finn.”
Dewey looks up from his guitar to face her. He noticed that she came to work with her hair down today… “We’re the only ones here, Rosie, you can call me Dewey,” the guitarist responds, a fond smile on his face.
“I was just about to leave. Or, well, at least step outside. It’s always one thing after another. You know how it is.”
“You wouldn’t mind if I… joined you, right?”
The principal thinks. After a long day, she’d usually want some alone time. But with him… the idiot she can’t help but adore…
“I would love that.” She smiles sweetly.
It takes about a minute or two for Dewey to slip on his coat, gloves and hat. Rosalie takes his hand and practically drags him out the door into the cold, winter air.
Bright white snow covers the ground and the trees. It continues to fall gently, creating a serene atmosphere around the two. Rosalie looks strangely star struck while looking up at the falling flakes in the air. Her smile is wide on her face as she examines each snowflake that lands on her gloves.
The messy haired guitarist puts his hands in his pockets, trying to be as nonchalant as possible. Sort of pretending he doesn’t find the headmistress’s wonderment cute.
Dewey chuckles. “It’s only snow, Ros,” he remarks. “It’s nothing new.”
Even Dewey’s smart ass comment doesn’t seem to faze Rosalie at all. She’s used to them by now. “It’s beautiful though, isn’t it? We never got much snow where I grew up. It was usually once every few years and when it finally…”
Dewey is too distracted by the snow falling around Rosalie and landing in her maroon hair. Her nose is starting to turn red from the cold. The bright snow makes her light green eyes seem even brighter. Wow… is she even real? There’s an obvious amount of love in his eyes that quickly gives away the fact that he’s staring.
“Dewey?”
Her voice pulls him back into reality. What was she saying again? “G-uhh… sorry…” His face starts to turn red, and not just from the cold.
“You were staring. Is there something on my face?” She wipes her face with her gloves, much to Dewey’s amusement. He snickers and steps closer, examining her face.
“Actually,” he says. “there is something on your face…” He reaches up and wipes a snowflake off of Rosalie’s cheek. Her face flushes and she covers it quickly.
Dewey snickers and his face goes a little red as well. “What’s that about?”
“You can’t just do that…”
“Do what?” Dewey teases. He wraps his arms around her so she can’t escape.
Rosalie shrieks with laughter. “Dewey, you idiot, let me go!” She shoves him into the snow. He still has a hold on her, so she falls with him.
The fluffy snow lets them land softly. They’re still laughing and trying to catch their breath as they lie on the snow covered ground.
Dewey looks at Rosalie, who’s having the time of her life, covered in snowflakes and laughing uncontrollably. He sits up, trying not to give away his amusement.
“Need help getting up?” he asks.
“No,” Rosalie responds, finally catching her breath and pulling him back down. “Let’s stay here for a bit.”
He lets himself be dragged back down. They lay side by side in the fluffy white snow, looking up at the falling flakes.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Rosalie mutters.
“Yeah…” the guitarist responds. “But you know what’s even more beautiful?”
The principal’s face flushes and she smacks his arm. “Stop it.”
He chuckles. “What? I was gonna say me.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“You love me.”
Rosalie sits up and gazes down at Dewey longingly. “…Maybe I do.”
A moment of silence. There’s the sound of the wind blowing gently and the distant sound of traffic from the city.
Dewey also sits up. “Well?”
“‘Well’ what?”
“Do you love me or not?”
She pauses. “Hmm… I think you might have to be more specific than that.”
“Right,” Dewey responds, smirking. “How badly do you want to kiss me?”
Their faces are closer now. “I suppose I’ll let you find that out for yourself.”
They both seem to pick up on the tension, because before they know it, they’re caught up in a gentle kiss. It isn’t too long before Dewey is lying in the snow with Rosalie over him. They’re still kissing, despite it being freezing. Dewey lets out a little noise.
“Mmmh…”
His needy little moan makes Rosalie want to just take him straight to the broom closet and give him something to moan about. “Mm, someone’s excited,” she says through heated kisses.
Dewey’s arms reach up and around her waist. If he wasn’t turned on before, he definitely was now. “Hm… you know, I’d let you rip my clothes off right now, but…”
Rosalie sits back up and shoves his face away from hers, turning super red. “You’re gross.”
Dewey sits up and wraps his arms around her, kissing her on the cheek. “Geez, you’re cold, Rosie,” he mutters. “Let’s get you inside.”
Rosalie finally lets him help her up. As they walk back inside, she tries not to giggle at the lipstick smears on his face.