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rainbowfic2021-07-04 01:40 pm
thisbluespirit) wrote in rainbowfic2021-07-04 01:40 pm
Candy Green #7 [Divide & Rule]
Name: Bowled Over
Story: Divide & Rule/Heroes of the Revolution
Colors: Candy Green #7 (bubblegum)
Supplies and Styles: Graffiti (June Challenge) + Eraser + Tapestry
Word Count: 1322
Rating: PG
Warnings: Minor injury
Notes: Edward Iveson/Julia Graves; Teachers AU (from the giant list of AUs).
Summary: 2M are having an eventful lesson this afternoon.
***
Edward came back to himself lying on the floor of the classroom, not entirely clear on how he had got there. The only thing he knew for certain was that he must get up before 2M did anything he would regret. Even aside from panic and tears, what sort of thing might pass for first aid with a pack of wild second-years didn’t bear thinking about.
He had been standing at his desk, and had turned to pull out the top drawer, which someone had apparently tried to stick down with bubblegum – not a very effective method; wood glue was worse – and then things became much more jumbled and unclear – had there been a rat? It seemed unlikely, but he’d had 3H for the previous period, and nothing was out of the question with 3H. At any rate, something had startled him and he seemed to have fallen – hit his head presumably. None of that, however, explained why a vision in pink was leaning over him, saying his name.
“Mr Iveson,” the vision said, kneeling beside him, skirts pooling out around her on the hard floor. “Mr Iveson, are you all right?”
He frowned, blinked, and tried to raise his head, but pain shot through it and he gave up. He tried to focus on her – not a vision, in fact, but Miss Graves, the new Domestic Science teacher, who had not yet been converted to everybody else’s hard-wearing sensible colours in serge.
“I trust so. My head hurts, though.”
“You fell rather awkwardly.” She put out a hand when he tried to sit again, preventing him. “I don’t think you ought to move. Head injuries can be awfully funny things.”
Edward could hear sobs from somewhere beyond her. “Head injury be damned,” he muttered. “Help me up, before the class decide I’ve died and start on a coffin in their next woodwork lesson.”
She relaxed into a brief smile, and obliged, assisting him to his feet and across to his desk. That done, Edward had to admit she had a point about not moving – his head swam now as well as ached – but he held up a hand to silence the class’s chatter. “Drama over now. I am fine, as you see. Now, please, turn to chapter three of your textbooks, and for homework, answer questions 2, 4 and 5. Understood?”
Pamela raised a hand.
“Yes?” said Edward. He gripped the edge of his desk. Miss Graves must have noticed, for she put a discreet hand to his arm.
“Sir,” said Pamela with something like awe in her voice, “you’re bleeding.”
Brian looked up immediately. “Are you going to die?”
Edward glared at Brian. “Jones, do we or do we not raise our hands before talking in class? And that should be: ‘Are you going to die, sir?’”
Brian waved his hand. “Sorry. Are you going to die, sir?”
“No,” he said. “Not today, thank you. Textbooks, and I’ll –” He pressed a hand to his temple, and when he lowered it, found that Pamela was right. There was blood on his fingers.
Miss Graves leant forward. “It’s not that bad, don’t worry. I think you managed to catch the edge of the desk on your way down. Here.” She passed him a clean hanky to staunch the bleeding. “I sent Ursula for the school nurse. I’m sure she’ll have a sticking plaster. It’s shame we don’t have any ice, because you’re going to have an awful lump and probably a black eye, and that will be fun in class.”
“What was in that drawer?” Edward said, not really taking in much of her speech. He’d put his hand on something odd – and he wanted to say it had been a dead rat – but that seemed improbable, even allowing for 3H’s usual antics.
Miss Graves turned almost as pink as her dress. “Oh. Yes. Sorry. I’ll explain when the bell goes.” She glanced up at the clock. “Any moment now.”
“What are you doing here?” he asked and then sagged slightly. “No, no, I don’t mean it like that. But why are you even in the Humanities block?”
She patted his shoulder. “When the bell goes, Mr Iveson.”
“Sir,” said Pamela, stretching up and raising her hand as high as it would go. “Sir!”
“Yes?”
“My textbook has got the questions torn out. What shall I do? And – are you and Miss Graves going to get married now?”
Edward blinked. “Howells, get Pamela a new textbook from the cupboard. Pamela, bring your old one up here, so I can take a look at it. And, no, we’re not.”
Pamela arrived at the desk with the battered textbook and said, more quietly and hesitantly now she was away from the safety of her desk, “She did just save your life, sir.”
“Don’t be silly,” said Miss Graves. “I told you he wasn’t dying. Even if he had been, it’s not obligatory to marry someone because they save your life. Only think how awkward it would be for people like firemen, or doctors and nurses.”
Pamela gave an odd sort of quick bob and fled back to her chair, just as bell rang. Edward would have counted that a mercy, but the shrill noise sent sharp pains through his head and he would have fallen off the desk again had Miss Graves not kept hold of him.
“Class dismissed!” said Miss Graves for him, although most of them were already scrabbling for their books and bags, ready for home time.
Edward closed his eyes once they had gone. “Oh, damn,” he said.
“I do think you should have stayed where you were,” said Miss Graves, studying him closely. “You might have a concussion. You were out cold for a few minutes, you know. It’s all that being tall, I expect – you have further to go to the floor.”
Edward said, wincing, “Quieter if you will.”
“Sorry,” she said, lowering her voice. “And about the rat – I’m dreadfully sorry, but it was me. I confiscated it from David Waters when I was covering for Dr Eddington earlier and forgot the wretched thing. I was on my way to retrieve it, but too late, unfortunately for you. I’m very sorry. Although how on earth you managed to injure yourself over it in the meantime is beyond me.”
Edward felt the room becoming unreal again. He blinked, but it didn’t help much. “So, it was you who tried to kill me?”
“Not on purpose.”
“Oh, well,” said Edward vaguely, “that makes it all right, then.”
Miss Graves held the item out to him. It was larger than life size and seemed to have patches of luminous paint on the ends of its fur, a wire down its middle to give it stiffness, and two wild staring red eyes sewn onto its head. It was mangy and had been well chewed by a dog at some point.
“Good God. What an appalling object. I say again, what did I do that you felt the need to try and kill me?”
Miss Graves placed both hands on his arm. “Mr Iveson, please. Sit on the floor. I don’t know if I could stop you falling off the desk and I don’t like your colour.”
“I’m all right,” he said, closing his eyes. “It hurts, that’s all.” He allowed her to help him down anyway. There was no point in trying to argue now the children had gone. And, lying on the floor once more, he was too grateful to object when she folded up her dusky pink cardigan to put under his throbbing head.
“Ursula will be here with the school nurse soon, I’m sure,” she said, keeping her voice soft. She gave his shoulder a gentle shake. “Mr Iveson, do stay awake, please.”
“Well, this will have livened up the week for 2M,” said Edward, but he couldn’t oblige her with her request: he passed out again.
***
Story: Divide & Rule/Heroes of the Revolution
Colors: Candy Green #7 (bubblegum)
Supplies and Styles: Graffiti (June Challenge) + Eraser + Tapestry
Word Count: 1322
Rating: PG
Warnings: Minor injury
Notes: Edward Iveson/Julia Graves; Teachers AU (from the giant list of AUs).
Summary: 2M are having an eventful lesson this afternoon.
***
Edward came back to himself lying on the floor of the classroom, not entirely clear on how he had got there. The only thing he knew for certain was that he must get up before 2M did anything he would regret. Even aside from panic and tears, what sort of thing might pass for first aid with a pack of wild second-years didn’t bear thinking about.
He had been standing at his desk, and had turned to pull out the top drawer, which someone had apparently tried to stick down with bubblegum – not a very effective method; wood glue was worse – and then things became much more jumbled and unclear – had there been a rat? It seemed unlikely, but he’d had 3H for the previous period, and nothing was out of the question with 3H. At any rate, something had startled him and he seemed to have fallen – hit his head presumably. None of that, however, explained why a vision in pink was leaning over him, saying his name.
“Mr Iveson,” the vision said, kneeling beside him, skirts pooling out around her on the hard floor. “Mr Iveson, are you all right?”
He frowned, blinked, and tried to raise his head, but pain shot through it and he gave up. He tried to focus on her – not a vision, in fact, but Miss Graves, the new Domestic Science teacher, who had not yet been converted to everybody else’s hard-wearing sensible colours in serge.
“I trust so. My head hurts, though.”
“You fell rather awkwardly.” She put out a hand when he tried to sit again, preventing him. “I don’t think you ought to move. Head injuries can be awfully funny things.”
Edward could hear sobs from somewhere beyond her. “Head injury be damned,” he muttered. “Help me up, before the class decide I’ve died and start on a coffin in their next woodwork lesson.”
She relaxed into a brief smile, and obliged, assisting him to his feet and across to his desk. That done, Edward had to admit she had a point about not moving – his head swam now as well as ached – but he held up a hand to silence the class’s chatter. “Drama over now. I am fine, as you see. Now, please, turn to chapter three of your textbooks, and for homework, answer questions 2, 4 and 5. Understood?”
Pamela raised a hand.
“Yes?” said Edward. He gripped the edge of his desk. Miss Graves must have noticed, for she put a discreet hand to his arm.
“Sir,” said Pamela with something like awe in her voice, “you’re bleeding.”
Brian looked up immediately. “Are you going to die?”
Edward glared at Brian. “Jones, do we or do we not raise our hands before talking in class? And that should be: ‘Are you going to die, sir?’”
Brian waved his hand. “Sorry. Are you going to die, sir?”
“No,” he said. “Not today, thank you. Textbooks, and I’ll –” He pressed a hand to his temple, and when he lowered it, found that Pamela was right. There was blood on his fingers.
Miss Graves leant forward. “It’s not that bad, don’t worry. I think you managed to catch the edge of the desk on your way down. Here.” She passed him a clean hanky to staunch the bleeding. “I sent Ursula for the school nurse. I’m sure she’ll have a sticking plaster. It’s shame we don’t have any ice, because you’re going to have an awful lump and probably a black eye, and that will be fun in class.”
“What was in that drawer?” Edward said, not really taking in much of her speech. He’d put his hand on something odd – and he wanted to say it had been a dead rat – but that seemed improbable, even allowing for 3H’s usual antics.
Miss Graves turned almost as pink as her dress. “Oh. Yes. Sorry. I’ll explain when the bell goes.” She glanced up at the clock. “Any moment now.”
“What are you doing here?” he asked and then sagged slightly. “No, no, I don’t mean it like that. But why are you even in the Humanities block?”
She patted his shoulder. “When the bell goes, Mr Iveson.”
“Sir,” said Pamela, stretching up and raising her hand as high as it would go. “Sir!”
“Yes?”
“My textbook has got the questions torn out. What shall I do? And – are you and Miss Graves going to get married now?”
Edward blinked. “Howells, get Pamela a new textbook from the cupboard. Pamela, bring your old one up here, so I can take a look at it. And, no, we’re not.”
Pamela arrived at the desk with the battered textbook and said, more quietly and hesitantly now she was away from the safety of her desk, “She did just save your life, sir.”
“Don’t be silly,” said Miss Graves. “I told you he wasn’t dying. Even if he had been, it’s not obligatory to marry someone because they save your life. Only think how awkward it would be for people like firemen, or doctors and nurses.”
Pamela gave an odd sort of quick bob and fled back to her chair, just as bell rang. Edward would have counted that a mercy, but the shrill noise sent sharp pains through his head and he would have fallen off the desk again had Miss Graves not kept hold of him.
“Class dismissed!” said Miss Graves for him, although most of them were already scrabbling for their books and bags, ready for home time.
Edward closed his eyes once they had gone. “Oh, damn,” he said.
“I do think you should have stayed where you were,” said Miss Graves, studying him closely. “You might have a concussion. You were out cold for a few minutes, you know. It’s all that being tall, I expect – you have further to go to the floor.”
Edward said, wincing, “Quieter if you will.”
“Sorry,” she said, lowering her voice. “And about the rat – I’m dreadfully sorry, but it was me. I confiscated it from David Waters when I was covering for Dr Eddington earlier and forgot the wretched thing. I was on my way to retrieve it, but too late, unfortunately for you. I’m very sorry. Although how on earth you managed to injure yourself over it in the meantime is beyond me.”
Edward felt the room becoming unreal again. He blinked, but it didn’t help much. “So, it was you who tried to kill me?”
“Not on purpose.”
“Oh, well,” said Edward vaguely, “that makes it all right, then.”
Miss Graves held the item out to him. It was larger than life size and seemed to have patches of luminous paint on the ends of its fur, a wire down its middle to give it stiffness, and two wild staring red eyes sewn onto its head. It was mangy and had been well chewed by a dog at some point.
“Good God. What an appalling object. I say again, what did I do that you felt the need to try and kill me?”
Miss Graves placed both hands on his arm. “Mr Iveson, please. Sit on the floor. I don’t know if I could stop you falling off the desk and I don’t like your colour.”
“I’m all right,” he said, closing his eyes. “It hurts, that’s all.” He allowed her to help him down anyway. There was no point in trying to argue now the children had gone. And, lying on the floor once more, he was too grateful to object when she folded up her dusky pink cardigan to put under his throbbing head.
“Ursula will be here with the school nurse soon, I’m sure,” she said, keeping her voice soft. She gave his shoulder a gentle shake. “Mr Iveson, do stay awake, please.”
“Well, this will have livened up the week for 2M,” said Edward, but he couldn’t oblige her with her request: he passed out again.
***
no subject
I laughed out loud. Actually I laughed out loud at most of this but oh my god that line in particular. And Pamela! What a joy.
no subject