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Fyodor doesn’t know why he decided to become a teacher. When he was younger, he would have looked at you in horror if you mentioned he should start teaching.
He’d never had any particular affinity towards teaching children, but after he’d finished his Masters in Literature, he realized his job opportunities were quite low. Very low. When he’d taken the degree he hadn’t been thinking, just driven by the thought of wanting to do something he actually liked when he became an adult. Obviously, he wasn’t thinking clearly.
“Mr. Dostoyevsky! Jason keeps throwing paper at me, he’s being annoying!”
Fyodor feels his eyes twitch as he looks up from his desk, his small moment of reminiscence ending. He sighs deeply. He should definitely have thought more clearly. It's too late now.
“Jason, detention tomorrow lunch. You will stay here.” He says irritably, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice. These kids are going to drive him crazy.
“But I didn’t even do anything- !?”
“Silence. Don’t be an…” Idiot, is what he would've said, but he doesn’t want to get fired any time soon he clears his throat, "Intolerable nuisance. Be quiet.” He says snappily. “And you can get back to your seat, Emily.” He says considerably softer as he nods towards the girl. She smiles and walks back, sticking her tongue out at Jason.
“But there’s nothing even to do in detention…” He hears the boy grumble under his breath. He gets up from his desk, walking swiftly to the front of the class. It’s time to start the lesson.
“Then the birds in the sky should be enough to entertain you. They mimic the papers you threw at Emily, after all.” He says quietly, but his voice rings throughout the class. A few kids snicker and try to stifle their laughs while Jason turns bright red.
Fyodor suppresses a smile. That boy had it coming for him anyways, always picking on the quieter ones.
“Alright, everyone take out your copies of The Merchant of Venice, today we’ll start reading where we left off, at the beginning of Shylock’s court hearing.”
Rustling noises filled the class as they all turned to open to books. Fyodor glances over them briefly before turning to his own copy. The kids were alright, he supposes, as long they kept quiet and did their work. Not that he liked teaching, heavens no.
“Everyone ready?” Most people nod so Fyodor starts, “I’ll begin to read on page 97–”
“FEDYAAA!”
The class became utterly silent as the cheerful voice rang through the class. Fyodor feels the migraine building behind his eyes. Of course, he just has to come. He slowly raises his head to see Nikolai Gogol himself standing at the doorway, leaning his hip against the doorframe.
He’s grinning maniacally, as always, and his hair is tied in a loose bun, the white waves framing his face. Fyodor resists the urge to drag his hand across his face in annoyance.
“We’re a work, I’m not Fedya.” He says through his teeth, under his breath. He’d rather not be embarrassed like this in front of his class. “Mr. Gogol. May I ask why you’re here?” He says in a more normal tone.
He hears some girls giggling as he speaks. The urge to reach out and strangle Nikolai has never been so strong.
“Aw, no need to be so goody-goody! But if it’s really what you want, I’ll call you Mr. Dostoyevsky instead.” He says lowering his voice to a sultry tone, rolling his name on his tongue. That is not what he meant, and he’s still fully aware that most of the class is unabashedly staring or giggling at this.
“Oh! And I just wanted a pencil.” He walks over to his desk and grabs Fyodor’s favorite pencil. Fyodor stares, unable to do anything.
“Alright, I better be going! See you, Dostoy!” He blows him a kiss before leaving before slamming the door shut. Fyodor is left staring completely appalled, his cheeks tinged pink.
“R-right then, let’s turn back to page-”
“Can we call you Dostoy too?” Says a girl batting her eyelashes at him. Snickers and giggles are heard throughout the class. Fyodor's eyes widened in horror. He is going to throttle Nikolai for this. He’ll get his revenge.
“No, you may not call me that, Mr. Gogol was being very unprofessional, I have no interest in participating in his antics.” Says Fyodor sternly. The girl pouts sadly and goes back to her book.
So then Fyodor begins to read the script, and the class mostly turns their attention back to the script, but every now and then Fyodor glances back up to see some girls giggling and whispers behind their hands while shooting furtive glances at him. Oh, Nikolai will pay for this…
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He’d met Nikolai when he was only 19 in university. They’d both studied something and had met in teaching school. Nikolai has studied Chemistry and Physics, and Fyodor would never admit this, but he privately thought Nikolai was exceptionally talented in both categories. The very thought of doing either of those made him shudder.
Despite that, Nikolai had never been a rule-follower. Clearly. In fact, he was so lax about so many things Fyodor wonders how he’s managed to keep his current teaching job for over a year. Fyodor was pretty sure he had given all his students 100 on their assignment because he “didn’t feel like grading and felt bad for the kids”. He’s 99% sure that’s illegal.
But overall, even though Nikolai did some… questionable things, he was still a good person. And not a terrible teacher. Fyodor’s favorite person, he daresay. But not right now, after that stunt he pulled embarrassing him in front of his entire class.
Fyodor scowled as typed out his lesson plan as the kids worked on homework. Nikolai could certainly be very insufferable sometimes.
Oh, and he’s also his boyfriend.
Fyodor sighed internally. Okay, maybe it was kind of hypocritical to shit about him and be his boyfriend, but you couldn’t blame him. Nikolai was just so charming, and loveable, and adoring, and-
“Mr. Dostoyevsky? I need help with this question.” He looks up to see one of the kids that was giggling earlier, Jasmine was her name.
“What is it then?” He says as he pushes Nikolai from his thoughts and smoothes out his voice so he doesn’t sound annoyed.
The question she asks is simple enough, but certainly he’s not one to judge. Her grades are quite high, and he doubts she really needed help on this question. So she must be here for some other reason.
“Um, do you like Mr. Gogol?” She says conspiratorially, giggling. Fyodor’s mouth drops open.
“W-What?” He says, stammering, his cheeks turning pink. Who does this girl think she is, insinuating such things– yes, Nikolai is his boyfriend but still. Does she truly think that lowly of him?
“Mr. Gogol! You were blushing when he came in the room, weren’t you Mr. Dostoyevsky?” She says grinning, and one of her friends stands behind her giggling behind her hands.
Fyodor sighs in defeat, running his hand through his shoulder-length hair. “Go back to your desk, Jasmine. And take your friend with you.”
The girl nods and goes back to her seat, whispering to her friends. Fyodor is left staring at nothing. Was it really that obvious? Come on, Nikolai was an absolute joke when it came to teaching, and Fyodor had nearly mastered the art of it. Okay, maybe he was being a little dramatic, but there’s no way his own students would put him on the same level as him.
After a while of working his lesson plan for next class and contemplating his terrible life choices, the bell rings for lunch. Since his students are all admirable pupils, none of them rush to get up and leave chairs untucked, they all look to him to dismiss them.
In the next room, they can all hear Nikolai’s class immediately get up at the sound of the bell, and Fyodor thinks he hears a chair thrown against the wall. And is that noise… Nikolai singing to them? The idiot, no wonder the kids are running out.
“Alright class, you did wonderfully today, tomorrow we will continue with the next chapter. No homework for today. You may go.”
Everyone starts packing up their things and talking and laughing amongst their friends as they leave for the cafeteria. Fyodor decides to stay in his room and mark some of his exams, since the teachers lounge is too packed with gossiping women that make his head ache.
Just as he gets comfortable, his door slams open. He suppresses a smile and instead pretends to frown. He doesn’t need to look up to know who it is.
“Good afternoon, Nikolai.” He says without looking up from the test he’s grading.
“Good afternoon? No need to be so formal, Fedya.” He says pouting. He takes a chair and turns it backwards and sits down in front of Fyodor.
Fyodor still doesn’t look up, biting his lip.
“I’m sorry if I embarrassed you in front of those kids, I was just joking…” Says Nikolai quietly looking up at him with wide puppy eyes. The patch from his left eye was gone.
“It’s fine.” Fyodor finally turns to look at him, a smile tugging at his lips. Nikolai’s lips part.
“You’re not mad! Aw, don’t play me like that Dostoy, I thought I’d actually upset you.” He says reaching out to Fyodor to stroke his hair. Fyodor bats his hand away.
“I’m not.” He says turning his chair towards Nikolai. “But you do have to be a little more discreet. The kids are catching on, you know.” Fyodor says more seriously, or at least tries to be serious but it’s understandably hard when Nikolai is looking at him like that.
“Then let them.” He says softly, raising his hand to trace his finger over Fyodor’s lips, mesmerized.
Fyodor pushes his hand off, “Ugh, don’t go touching my face, you’re gonna make me break out.” He grumbles under his breath. “And this isn’t a romance novel Kolya, you can’t just say “let them.” I’m pretty sure colleagues shouldn’t be dating as well.”
Nikolai smiles a little, “Yes, I suppose you are right. But it’s just the only fun I get in this boring place.” He says pouting and Fyodor sighs.
“Well, you only have yourself to blame, you signed up for this job.” He says turning back to his tests to grade.
“Yeah, for money.” Nikolai says, rolling his eyes.
“Don’t mess with me Nikolai, I know you like teaching.” Fyodor says, sounding convinced. “Or whatever form of teaching you do at least.” He adds on. Nikolai’s teaching style was… unique, for sure.
Nikolai sighs, “I guess…” He says quietly. “I’m still better than you though.” He says smiling again, sitting up straighter.
“I’d have to disagree.” Fyodor hunched over his test papers. “Oh, and what even happened earlier? Were you singing?” Say Fyodor smiling as he turns back to face Nikolai, his voice incredulous.
“Well, yeah…” Says Nikolai, his cheeks flushed. “I was singing the periodic table song! It’s the best way to memorize it, I was doing those kids a favor.”
Fyodor snorts. “A favor, I’m sure. They’d seemed more than eager to leave though.” He added smiling amusedly , remembering the ruckus they caused when the bell had rung.
“Shut up, at least they like me.” Says Nikolai sticking his tongue out.
“No, I’m sure they like me better.” Says Fyodor back teasingly.
“Nope, they like me, you’re so strict and bo-ringgg!” He replies in his sing-song voice.
“I’m not boring just because I don’t explode things in class, Kolya. Clearly I’m better.”
“Yeah, but I-”
“Mr. Dostoyevsky? And… Mr. Gogol…?”
They both freeze. They’d inched closer to each other during their “argument” and now they quickly sprung apart, Nikolai laughing awkwardly.
“Hey! Uh…” Nikolai squints at the girl. She was not in his class.
Fyodor turns to look at her and his mouth drops open for the second time today. “Jasmine?”
The girl squeals, “Oh my gosh, I knew it! You guys are married! Right, right?” She says enthusiastically.
Nikolai turns pink and Fyodor nearly chokes.
“Alright, let’s not go that far–” Says Nikolai but he’s interrupted again.
“Oh, I have to go tell Emily! I knew it, I knew it!” She runs out of the room giggling, with both men staring at the empty door in shock.
“So much for being discreet…” Fyodor grumbles under his breath. “This is all your fault, I teach that girl, and she only started theorizing after you burst in!”
Nikolai giggles, “No, the rumors have been going on for much longer than that, Fedya…” Says Nikolai, pretending to look at his nails, feigning nonchalance.
“What!?” Fyodor looks at him in shock. “Since when?” He asks desperately.
“Since… uh, we got here?” Says Nikolai awkwardly, offering him a half-hearted grin.
Fyodor groans, “Kolya, one day you’ll be the death of me.”