Work Text:
The sound of your morning alarm was something you’d never quite looked forward to, but this particular morning it ripped you out of a two hour half-sleep so violently that all of your life’s decisions seemed to flash before your eyes. The melatonin you’d taken out of frustration in the middle of the night had, unfortunately, finally taken effect, and you rolled over onto your side and closed your eyes again — just for five minutes, until the next alarm blared in your ear with an unforgiving urgency.
You grumbled and sat up — far too quickly, apparently, as the movement sent a stabbing pain through your head. You should’ve called in sick yesterday as you were already feeling poorly with a sore throat and a blocked nose. But now, 45 minutes before your first class of the day, it was definitely too late to call in — that’s what you told yourself, at least.
In all actuality, Principal Weems probably wouldn’t mind. She’d find a substitute or cancel class (your students would be
thrilled,
now that you think about it) and tell you to get plenty of rest, and it would be fine.
But midterms were coming up and that meant preparing your students for exams (they sorely needed the help), not to mention that Principal Weems seemed so stressed recently that you didn’t want to add more to her plate. Even the thought of disappointing her seemed inexcusable to you. You were a professional, after all, and you had a duty to your students and to your boss. So you swung your legs out of bed, stumbling and nearly falling over twice on your way to the bathroom in your exhausted haze, and tried to make yourself look presentable — which was a feat in and of itself, considering the sickly sheen your face had taken on overnight.
Dressed for the day and donning a full face of makeup, you swallowed down a handful of ibuprofen to combat your headache and headed to your classroom for the day, your steps slow and sluggish.
Jesus, maybe going to work wasn’t such a good idea after all…
You told yourself you’d feel better once class started. The kids usually had quite a bit of energy in the morning and you normally found that it rubbed off on you, even if you were a little tired.
Today, however, you were sorely mistaken.
As it turned out, that only worked when you really were only a little tired — not when your head felt like it was filled with cotton and your eyelids weighed down with lead. If anything, the incessant chattering of your students as they filed into your classroom quickly proved unbearable, their voices seeming to echo off the sides of your brain, making it protest sharply.
By late morning you were barely holding it together. Your first class had blended into your second, the students' faces blurring together as you tried to get through your lessons with the help of ibuprofen — which managed to dull the pain in your head but made you feel fuzzier by the minute.
“Alright, ‘s the last twenty min’s to start on y-your homework,” you managed to slur out, barely managing to make it from the whiteboard back to your seat and resting your head on your folded arms — just for a moment.
Or so you thought.
Larissa sat in her office, her phone lying on the desk on speaker as the mayor droned on about some fundraising topics. Though they had other topics on their meeting agenda, he insisted on spending their entire call on this, and Larissa had heard it all twice already — she was bored. She typed quietly as the mayor talked, answering one email after the other to at least try to use the wasted time for something useful.
A knock at the door to her office seemed the perfect opportunity to end the call early, a bit of glee flooding her when she was able to cut the mayor off mid-sentence to inform him that she had to get on with her duties, and she’d gladly hear him out later (she wouldn’t).
“Come in,” she called out softly after hanging up, watching the door to her office swing open to reveal one of the younger students. The girl hesitated in the doorway, shifting nervously from foot to foot, and Larissa quirked an eyebrow, getting the sense that something was…
off.
“Is everything alright?”
“I don’t know?” The way Astrid phrased her response as a question made alarm bells go off in Larissa’s head, and she pushed back her chair and rose to her feet.
“Don’t worry, dear, you aren’t in trouble.” She made sure to keep her tone soft as she rounded the desk, taking in her student’s nervous demeanor. “Which class are you supposed to be in?”
“History.”
“Has something happened?”
“Our teacher, she, um… fell asleep…”
Larissa paused in her tracks, her brow furrowing in confusion. For a moment, she wondered if she had forgotten about prank day — but no, that had already been over a month ago, and it wasn’t April Fool’s Day, either, it was the middle of November.
“She… fell asleep? Astrid, are you sure?”
The girl nodded. “She started snoring.”
Larissa frowned. You’d been on her staff for a few years now and, thus, she knew you quite well — you were the absolute last member of staff she’d ever expected to fall asleep on the job. Either there was a misunderstanding, or something was seriously wrong. It was a thought that didn’t sit well with Larissa, and her stomach churned uncomfortably as she placed a hand on Astrid’s shoulder and began to guide her back to class with an undeniable sense of urgency.
“Oh, dear…”
The words were spoken softly and sounded miles away, but you’d recognize that voice anywhere. The soothing melody of Principal Weems’s voice was one you’d been fond of since the very first time you’d spoken with her, years ago at your first interview for a teaching position at Nevermore. There was a warmth in the way Larissa spoke, like a gentle caress — in your exhausted state, you missed the worry her words were laced with, and you smiled to yourself almost involuntarily, thinking this was all part of the loveliest dream you’ve ever had.
There was a pressure on your shoulder, then on your forehead, and Principal Weems’s voice floated towards you once again, more urgently this time.
“Wake up.”
Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.
The far-away sound of giggles filled your ears, other voices, familiar but not
her,
younger.
“Astrid, sweetheart, please get the nurse.”
The nurse…
Nurse?
“No,” you mumbled in an attempt to dispel the unpleasant turn your supposed dream was taking.
I don’t want to see a nurse, I want to see you, Larissa.
More giggles.
A sigh (lovely).
A gentle nudge against your shoulder.
What finally made you open your eyes was a bright light, shining directly into them, the feeling of someone tugging at your eyelids.
“What the fuck?” you grumbled, squinting directly into the flashlight of a cell phone.
“Language,”
chastised Principal Weems’s voice as the light was lowered and extinguished.
Huh? “English?”
The giggles returned and you furrowed your brow, lifting your head from your desk (how had it gotten there?) to find yourself face to face with a group of your students, gathered around your desk and staring at you like some sort of zoo animal.
“There’s, uh…” one of the girls, Sydney, began, her lips twitching as if holding back laughter, her arm outstretched and pointing at your desk. Your gaze sluggishly followed the length of her arm, her pointed finger, before landing on the puddle of drool that you must have left there.
You could feel your face begin to burn and, in your groggy state, searched desperately for a retort, but, thankfully, Principal Weems took over.
“That’s quite enough, please return to your seats until the bell rings.” As the students trudged back to their desks, your boss turned around and knelt beside you, her hand on your arm, her voice low. “Are you alright? You have quite the fever.”
Ah, so that was what you’d felt on your forehead. Larissa’s hand. That made you feel strangely warm inside.
Or maybe that was just the fever…
“‘Course I’m okay, j-just a… cold.”
The incredulous look on Larissa’s face almost made you feel ashamed of yourself. “A
cold?”
“I’m fine, p-romise…”
Larissa suppressed a sigh. The bell rang and Larissa stood, ushering your class into the hall and whipping out her phone to make a call — during which time, you rested your head back on your desk, sighing at how lovely the cool wood felt against your cheek, how the stabbing pain seemed to ease when you didn’t have to hold your head up. You closed your eyes.
“Don’t fall asleep,” Larissa warned, returning to your side. “Mr. Fitts has agreed to cover your afternoon classes. We need to get you back to bed.”
“Hmm? No, no… it’s fine…” You groaned as you tried to lift your head and it gave a protesting throb. “‘m not
sick,
just… t-ired.”
“You’re in no state to be in front of a classroom,” Larissa said gently, starting to pull you up by your biceps.
“I’m fiiine!” You would normally have hated the pout on your face, the whiny quality your voice took on, but you were far too groggy to care at this point — Larissa, on the other hand, found herself suppressing a smile at the way you stuck out your lower lip in protest. “You don’t need… to… go through the t-trouble… finding a sub…”
“I’ve already found a sub, darling, it’s alright. Come on.” The term of endearment slipped from Larissa’s lips so naturally that it went unnoticed by the both of you. She put her arm around your waist and helped to hoist you up and, even though you didn’t want to admit defeat, you couldn’t help but lean into her, following the comforting warmth of her body and the sweet scent of her perfume.
You rested your head on Larissa’s shoulder, letting your body mold to hers, and she chuckled, her fingers pressing tightly into your waist. “Let’s go… you’ll have to walk a bit…”
“Yes ma’am…”
The walk from your classroom back to your quarters wasn’t long, but it was a struggle — the slight height difference meant that Larissa had to stoop a bit to get a good hold on you, and you weren’t making it easy for her, as she had to shorten her usually long strides considerably to move you at a glacial pace down the hall.
Larissa used her master key to unlock the door to your quarters, knowing that asking you to locate your own keys would be futile. The door fell closed behind the both of you with a thud that made you wince, and Larissa murmured an apology in your ear as she guided you to your bed, letting out an amused huff when you didn’t let go of her right away.
“Darling, we’re here… you can let go…” She pried herself carefully from your grasp, her heart warming at the whine you let out, the way you reached out for her. “I’ll be right back.”
Her words placated you and you lowered yourself from a sitting position, curling up on your side and watching her bustle about your room — filling your electric kettle with water, fiddling with the heat, rummaging through your bathroom cabinet to find any medicine you might have. It was almost as if she belonged here, as if she’d been here hundreds of times before, the practiced ease with which she gathered anything you might need to be comfortable. Your eyelids wanted desperately to fall closed, your vision going a bit fuzzy, but you forced yourself to watch Larissa.
Larissa as she poured the boiling water from the kettle into a mug to make tea, looking like an angel in the blurry haze of your vision, all white halo and translucent glow. Larissa as she approached your bedside with the mug, arranging it on your bedside table beside a box of tissues, some pain killers, a bottle of water. Larissa as she gently tugged your blankets from beneath you to tuck you in and then — instead of leaving, like you’d expect her to — sat gingerly beside you on your bed, using her fingers to slowly, methodically detangle your hair.
“Why didn’t you call in sick?” She mused, her fingertips brushing against your neck as she tucked your hair behind your ear, not expecting a response as your eyes fluttered like you were fighting sleep.
“Midtermsss…”
Larissa chuckled. “Your admiration to your profession is admirable, but I can assure you, your students will be just fine. You’ve prepared them well.”
“D-don’t want-to disappoint you… or give… more work…” you muttered, your filter gone as you felt the pull of sleep. You missed the way Larissa’s cheeks went pink.
“I would never be disappointed by a member of my staff taking care of their well-being,” Larissa assured you carefully, her voice even softer than before. Your hand curled involuntarily into Larissa’s skirt and you inched your way feebly towards her to cuddle her thigh as a shiver ran through you.
Larissa pulled the covers higher around you and began to stroke your upper back, something tugging at her chest as she watched sweat bead on your forehead and waited for your breathing to even out. She ran her knuckles across your cheek and smoothed out your covers before moving to stand, blushing as your grip on her thigh tightened.
“Don’ leave.”
“I’ll be back this evening to check on you. I promise.”
“Just y-ou, no… nurses…”
Larissa smiled and suppressed a laugh. “No nurses. Get some sleep, darling.”