Work Text:
Some people say that the worst enemy of teachers in modern education is society—society and the awful devaluation of teachers and education in general.
Yet, you don't exactly agree.
Because in your humble opinion, the true and only enemy of teachers in modern education is printers.
Yes, printers.
Well, a scanner in your case, since the printer blew up a long time ago. (Kyle had something to do with it, but he was way too angry at it to even bother explaining. Besides, it was the end of the school year and no one had time nor the patience to deal with that stuff).
You needed to scan a select few printed documents, which Price needed as soon as possible. You tried to be responsible about it and attempted to do it yesterday, but a bunch of people thought the same thing and crowded the space.
So, you told yourself you were going to do it today, late, when everyone was gone and no one could bother you, try to interrupt you, or humiliate you in case something went wrong.
And, effectively, there wasn't anyone in the room to bother, interrupt, or humiliate you. You started the scanning. You finished at least two of the ten papers you had to scan. You had to hold them so the scanner didn't swallow them and mess everything up, and you swore you were doing it right. You swore everything was fine.
Until he entered.
Until he banged through the door like some rom-com protagonist.
Well, he actually entered quite normally, but your brain went into overdrive when you saw him, and the scanner decided that that was the exact moment to fail.
And so, while he entered the room and tried to find whatever it was that he came to look for, you tried to salvage the papers you were trying to scan, but it was in vain.
You sighed after the tenth attempt. The machine marked a failed scan and the paper got stuck.
You tried to pull it out, but it was definitely not flat anymore.
You inhaled and exhaled. You needed patience. The school year was finishing; you could do it. You could do it.
You tried again and it didn't work. You gave up.
"Awthin' okay?" His voice startled you a little.
More than his voice, it was his accent. It always startled you, just as his pretty blue eyes graced your existence with their attention.
Your stupid, fat, ridiculous crush on him was something that had been growing throughout the school year. You tried to fight it with all your might, but you gave up on that, too.
What was the use? His tall, sturdy, Scottish self was not going to leave your proximity, not even during vacation, because you shared the same group of coworkers and God forbid you missed one of Kyle's gatherings.
Anyway, it was obvious he would notice your distress. He apparently had a talent for being your knight in a Scottish kilt (you had never seen him in one, but God, you wouldn't be opposed to it) and running to your rescue whenever you were in trouble. (Sometimes you did it on purpose, though, but this time you swore your annoyance was real—too real).
Before you could answer, he was beside you, way closer than necessary, but not as close as you wanted. The sleeve of his school hoodie was touching your school jacket's sleeve. It was a usual thing. He didn't know what personal space was, and most of the time, you didn't mind.
"What's up wi' it?"
You pointed to the scanner, not needing to say anything further. If the situation were different, you'd think it was weird how well he understood you, but you were too annoyed to analyze it.
"Aye, standard. Crabbit wee bugger, that," he smiled, shaking his head. "Gied me right grief yesterday as well. Ye should've stayed to see me suffer," he smiled, and you tried to keep your cool. (Didn't work very well).
You had actually been excited yesterday when you came to scan the papers and he was the only one in the room. You worked well when he was close enough, but when other people entered the room, it was all gone. Like a spell breaking. Someone else had walked into the room yesterday, and let's just say your feelings got the best of you and you decided to leave.
"I was doing it right, but now the papers are getting tangled and it doesn't want to work normally."
"Dinnae fash. Let's gie it another go. I'll gie ye a hand."
You sighed as if you didn't have any faith in the whole thing, but you tried again. True to his word, he helped you, and yet the scanner still didn't want to work. The papers got jammed again.
Sighing in frustration and feeling on the brink of wanting to hit something, you weren't responsible for your next actions.
You didn't know why, but you turned in his direction with open arms, and your body just stepped forward until your arms were around him in a side hug, since he wasn't facing you completely.
For a few seconds, there was silence from both of you, until your nose caught his scent and your brain realized that you were hugging.
You were hugging him.
Wait, you were hugging him!
You panicked for a moment, but you didn't step back. Instead, you stayed glued to him, and he didn't move either. He stayed, too.
Your heart wanted to burst out of your chest, but you didn't say anything. You just dwelled on the fact that he fit, somehow, completely and softly in your arms.
You blinked several times until you felt some slow, cautious pats on one of your arms.
Was he trying to console you?
Your heart skipped a few beats.
You felt warm.
You felt... taken care of.
You felt... loved.
"I shouldn't be hugging you without your consent."
"Ach, it's grand. I dinnae mind when ye touch me."
"Still."
"Ye can stay right there. Awthin's gonna be fine, ken?"
And even if you knew you should move, you didn't want to. He was warm against you. He was soft and firm; he fit perfectly in your arms, as if you were made to do this daily, as if something or someone had built the two of you to fit together like pieces of the same puzzle.
It was a cliché you had only heard of in rom-coms and books, and yet here it was. Here you were, feeling it.
You were so tempted, wanting to stay attached to him like glue, but you suddenly remembered that you were at work. Anyone could walk through the door at any moment, and if someone saw the two of you hugging (even if it was just a side hug), you'd be the center of so much gossip—and that was the last thing you wanted or needed.
(Not after the past "accidents" where the two of you just happened to be the protagonists).
You let go of him as fast and as abruptly as you had approached. You avoided his eyes like the plague and returned to the scanner. He didn't waste time and, as if nothing had ever happened and his scent didn't linger on your jacket, he helped you with the scanner.
On the second attempt, you managed to scan the remaining papers. Once they were finished, you thanked him. He smiled at you, you melted, and when he left the room, you hid your face in your hands.
What had just happened?
It was just a hug; it shouldn't mean too much.
It wasn't even a full hug; it was a side hug.
Anyway, you got the pendrive with the scans, sat down, and opened ilovepdf.com.
And when you raised your arm again to celebrate completing the task, a rush of his scent slapped you right in the face because of how close the sleeve of your jacket was to your nose.
You weren't going to forget about that hug anytime soon.
That jacket wasn't going to be washed for a while neither.