Chapter Text
“We are super excited to have you join our faculty, Shane,” the principal said, walking him to his new classroom in the social studies wing, “We haven’t had a new history teacher in a while. But, that just means you have great mentors to help get you settled in.”
“I heard that!” a voice across the hall from Shane’s class yelled as the principal, Jackie Pike, unlocked his door and handed him a key.
“Please ignore my husband, Shane,” she said with a sigh. The man in question left his room and ran across the hall.
“Is this my new neighbor?” he asked, wrapping an arm casually around his wife. “Hayden,” he said to Shane, striking his hand out in greeting.
Shane took it, grateful for the friendly welcome, if not a tad bit overwhelmed. “Shane. Shane Hollander,” he responded.
Jackie turned to her husband, “Be nice and don’t scare him off.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it!” he responded, putting his hands up in surrender, “Besides, I’m not the one to worry about.” Jackie sighed and shook her head, and Shane looked between them confused.
“Is there someone I should be cautious of?” Shane asked, anxiety creeping up his body.
Jackie said “No” at the same time Hayden asked, “You’re helping out with the hockey team, right?”
Shane nodded, shifting his weight nervously, “Yeah, the school’s team has done really well the past couple years, right?”
“Oh they have, because the head coach is crazy. Can’t keep an assistant coach to save his life,” Hayden answered.
“Do not disparage your colleagues in front of me,” Jackie said through a fake smile.
“Then let me help get my new mentee settled in, and you go back to making rules for the students to break,” the other man joked.
Jackie sighed, “I apologize, Shane. But, we really are excited to have you. Please reach out if you have any,” she looked directly at Hayden, “any issues. Especially with this one.”
“Love you,” Hayden replied, kissing her cheek quickly before she walked back down the hall to her office.
“Is the coach really that bad?” Shane asked.
Hayden brushed past him into Shane’s classroom. There was a standard, old metal teacher desk with a crappy rolling chair in one corner. The walls were bare, and about twenty desk-chairs scattered around the room.
Hayden sat on the edge of his desk and crossed his arms. “Oh yeah, he’s kind of terrifying. I think he’s got a lot of pent up rage from his own failed hockey career that he channels into his coaching.”
“Oh,” Shane said, taking a seat at one of the desk-chairs.
“Sorry, it’s really not my business, but I thought you’d like a realistic heads up,” Hayden replied.
Shane took a deep breath, wondering if he’d gotten in over his head by agreeing to be the assistant coach before even meeting this scary head coach.
“I think they just need a level head on staff,” Hayden continued, “Appease any parents who question his coaching style. You know how parents can be.”
Oh, Shane knew. Issues with parents at his previous position were part of why he moved away from his placement in St. Louis. While it was a fairly open-minded city, you get one parent who doesn’t like you, or who you date, and it’s game over.
“Yeah, I mean, but I’m excited to help. He must be doing something good,” Shane told his new coworker, “How long has he been coaching?”
“Oh, he’s been here for five years? I think, maybe,” Hayden answered, trying to count, “Yeah five. He started the year after me.”
The same year Shane got his first, and only, teaching job before this. “Where was he before that?”
“College,” he responded, “He’s around your age.”
“Oh, I just assumed he’d be older,” Shane said.
Shane heard a phone buzz, it wasn’t his.
Hayden groaned, and stood up. “The wife is ready to leave. And, also told me to ‘stop shit talking Rozanov’ to you.”
“I’ll tell her you weren't if she asks,” Shane told him with a laugh.
Hayden echoed his laugh and handed Shane his phone, “Put your number in. Some of us go out and get drinks together a couple times a month, or after parent-teacher conferences. Or if you need to complain about your new friend.”
Shane typed in his number quickly and handed it back to Hayden for what he hoped was the start of a new friendship.
“See you later, Shane,” Hayden said, patting his shoulder as he walked across to his room to lock up and leave for the day.
Once he was alone, Shane took a deep breath and looked around the bare classroom. He had a box or two of things from his previous classroom he could bring to make the space feel a little less like a jail cell, as most standard classrooms felt.
He grabbed his things and decided that it was enough for one day, and locked his classroom on his way out. He walked down the hall in what he thought was the right direction. Looking up once he got to a turn, he noticed he was not near the office and front doors, but in a side hallway with a few classrooms with their lights off. He noticed flags of various countries adorning the ceiling, and the different doors. He figured he must’ve found himself in the foreign language wing.
With his dad being Canadian, and his mom being Japanese, Shane was fluent in both French and English, and could carry on a simple conversation in Japanese, if needed. His writing still needed work, but he had let that fall by the weyside during his last relationship.
He was aimlessly looking at the various countries represented, he saw French and Canadian flags on two doors, Chinese greetings decorating one, two more rooms with flags from Latin America and Spain, and one with sign language posters. There was one room with a soft light coming from inside, not the fluorescent lights in each classroom. It had very little decoration on the outside, just a simple poster on the door with old pictures of various authors and composers, all in what appeared to be Russian. As well as a pennant flag with the school's logo on it that said "Centaur's Hockey".
Shane was so distracted, he didn’t hear someone walking to the door and opening it until it almost hit him in the face.
“Shit,” Shane exclaimed, jumping back before the door could hit him.
In the now open doorway stood probably one of the most insanely attractive men Shane had ever seen. He was tall, very tall, and the muscles that were on full display as he wore a black, short sleeved Boston Bruins t-shirt.
“What are you doing?” he asked with an accent. No apologies, no asking if Shane was alright, or even who he was.
“I, uh,” Shane stammered, trying to steady himself and his thoughts, “I got turned around. Sorry.”
He didn’t need to apologize, he knew that, but it’s what came out. Shane’s dad, David, always said it was the Canadian in him. He turned around without another word, and started walking away.
“Wait,” the voice hollered after him. Shane stopped at the corner and turned back around to face the other man. He leaned against the doorway, “Are you the new history teacher?”
Shane nodded, not leaving his spot. The other man smirked. He actually smirked, or that’s what Shane would call it. The man had almost hit him with a door, didn’t apologize and now he’s smirking.
“The new history teacher that’s supposed to help me do my job?” he continued.
Shane opened his mouth to refute. He’s not trying to take anyone’s job. He’d played hockey throughout his childhood, and he was good, really good, actually. He just never had the super competitive edge to play professionally. When he’d applied here, he had listed the summer hockey camps he used to teach at on his resume, and they’d asked if he wanted to be an assistant coach. They’d been trying to find one, but now he knew no one else had wanted to deal with this asshole.
“A simple ‘hello’ or ‘sorry for hitting you with my door’ would’ve worked. And I’m not here to take your job. I’m here to teach and help coach hockey. Two things I’m good at,” Shane replied, getting a rise out of how well his defense had come out.
“Ah, so you do have backbone,” came the quick reply, “This will be fun.”
“Making my life hell even though you don’t know me?” Shane asked.
The other man scoffed and mumbled something that was probably not English, “You do not know me either,” he continued, in English.
Was this really the first impression Shane wanted to leave? Not really, but he couldn’t believe this was the first impression that Rozanov wanted to leave too.
Shane shook his head, “I’m leaving. I’ll see you around, I guess.” He half expected the other man to call out after him again as he turned to leave, but he didn’t. A small part of Shane felt disappointed at that. But that was something Shane didn’t feel like unpacking quite yet.