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oh my god did he look at me??, lovestruck

uwasamiyuki in ghostsugar_rp

Dreaming at the Desk [closed to Kramer]

People always talked about the merits of being a teacher, but they were always the ones you couldn't take home or spend. It was supposed to be so rewarding to be a teacher, but a teacher's salary didn't exactly reflect that. That wasn't to say that Miyuki didn't occasionally experience that intangible feeling that she had really done something to make a difference in a growing young person's life, and she liked that, but...there was just so much work to do!

Miyuki didn't generally enjoy the hard work part of being a teacher. The math wasn't hard. It was what she was good at, and at a level such as this, it didn't take much thought to actually conduct the lessons. It was the grading she hated. It just took so much time! Time that could have been better spent at coffee shops or shopping or spending time with her positively lovable young pup at home who was probably crying for her at this point because it was already past five and she still had a whole heap of these stupid math tests to grade.

Miyuki was still bent over her desk long after everyone else was gone, it seemed, and there was no one in the staff room but her. Sure, it was her own fault for having left the last two weeks of quizzes and tests to grade this weekend, but -- but still! It just wasn't fair!

Miyuki graded quizzes until her eyes were starting to cross and the numbers stopped making sense anymore. Wearily, she put her pen down and pulled off her glasses. She just needed to rest her eyes, that was all -- and it really wouldn't hurt to put her head down just for a...few minutes...

In less than ten minutes, Miyuki was out like a light, her head resting on her forearms on her desk, a pile of math tests still ungraded.

Samuel Kramer never left anything to the last minute. Of all of the teachers, he was the one who always had assignments graded before needed, getting everything done when they had to be done and never falling behind on any deadline. This was true, even though he was getting his drama club into shape and ready to go. After the hours-long rehearsal, he returned to the staff room, to pick up his things and go home. He honestly hadn't expected anyone to be there at this point, save perhaps a janitor or some other minor functionary, certainly not another teacher.

When he walked in, he stopped dead. Miyuki was right there, and she was asleep. His face twisted with distaste, disbelieving that a teacher could be asleep here of all places. But then... then his expression changed. Suddenly he was indecisive, and he put his delicate fingers to his forehead, as though trying to ward off a thought that just came into his head. Perhaps he was just reproaching himself for thinking so unkindly towards her, or perhaps... perhaps it was something else entirely. Regardless, Samuel Kramer was quiet for a moment, struggling against himself and squeezing his eyes shut.

But then he opened them, and a rather odd smile was on his face as he did so. As casually as always, he walked up to Miyuki, moving with graceful, silent footsteps. Then he leaned forward: he didn't say anything, he didn't move, he hardly even breathed. It was almost as though he was hypnotized, speechless and motionless...

Miyuki stirred slightly, disturbed by the presence of another person so near. She mumbled a few words incoherently -- mmh, no, Michaelangelo, don't chew on the couch.. . -- and made a few indistinct sleepy noises before she lifted her head up slightly, blinking blearily.

The teacher's lounge was dark. Wait, dark? Wait time was it? She squinted uncomprehendingly at a small stack of math texts right in front of her before she realized she wasn't wearing her glasses. Letting out a sound roughly equivalent to "mrrfhh", she closed her eyes and began groping for her glasses groggily on the desk. Where had she put them again?

As soon as Miyuki began stirring, Kramer snapped back to his senses. For the most part. He shook his head to clear it, then seized the glasses and offered them to the other teacher. ...the fact that their hands brushed together, a startling bit of warmth that neither had really expected, was entirely an accident.

In the dark, Kramer's eyes were unnaturally bright, catching the light in the hallway even as he stood tall over Miyuki. When he spoke, his voice was quiet and low, with a faint undertone of self-reproach. "Satou-sensei, you shouldn't fall asleep here."

Miyuki started violently at the touch of Kramer's hand, the sound of his voice. Someone -- someone else was here? Ugh, how embarrassing -- Miyuki sat upright and twisted around in her chair with a quiet noise of surprise, looking up at Kramer as she put her glasses back on. The way the light and dark hit his tall figure all at once, it was sort of striking -- inhumanly so -- and for a moment, she felt entranced by his gaze. But she just as soon snapped out of it, trying to smooth back the pieces of her hair that had fallen out of its loose bun.

He was the only one who ever called her Satou-sensei, except for Ono. There were two other Satous in this school, and Miyuki didn't mind being called by her first name just to eliminate the confusion. It was hard to tell whether Kramer's intent in using her surname was to be distant or merely respectful. He was just so...

"I, um -- right. I know that," she said hastily, spinning the chair around so she didn't keep twisting her spine into a pretzel. She smoothed her skirt out, looking up at him still. One of her legs had fallen asleep and she wasn't quite prepared to stand on it, not in these heels. "I, um -- I was grading papers, and I guess I just got a little drowsy, and, um..." She found herself feeling at a loss. It was hard to ignore the way her heart kept fluttering in her chest. It was just -- so weird to be here alone with Kramer, in the dark, and -- maybe she was dreaming. This just didn't seem right at all. Another piece of tossed hair fell messily over her brow, and she tried to put it back in place, mildly frustrated.

The struggle inside of Samuel Kramer raged with renewed vigor at that. Miyuki looked so vulnerable like that, so open... not at all what she usually was, with too much effort being put into style and putting forward a front. No, this seemed to be much more like who Miyuki should be, even considering the problem that this would cause for Kramer.

As the woman tried to put her hair back into place, Samuel's delicate fingers lightly brushed it up, almost but not quite touching her face as he did so. This was far and away the closest that he'd ever gotten to anyone, reinforced by the fact that he had to lean closer to do so, putting his face a scant few inches away from Miyuki's. There was certainly a dream-like aspect to this moment, with the world hazy and indistinct around them, with the atmosphere one of floating and lightness, subtly different from how things normally were. And yet, though Kramer's voice was warm and as soft as silk, it still had that disciplined and perfect diction that the man was well known for. "There's no need to explain yourself. Not to me."

Miyuki would swear that her heart skipped not one, but several beats when Kramer touched her face. She was glad for the dark, because she was sure that at that moment, her face flared up redder than -- than -- okay, it really didn't matter, because Kramer was touching her face and leaning in all like -- like -- seriously, was she dreaming? This felt more like a scene from one of her trashy romance novels than real life, because Kramer always ignored her or brushed her off and she was pretty sure he'd never been this close before.

What had sparked the change in his behavior all of a sudden? Was it because they were alone? Had he always held her at arm's length because of -- of everyone else? She was beginning to sweat from all of the excitement -- or was it nervousness? (Fear, even?) It was so hard to tell, and -- fuck, was her deodorant wearing off? What if she smelled bad and -- he was still so close oh god. She was not her usual collected self, right now -- she was very off guard, and at a complete loss how to react.

"K-Kramer-sensei," she said, and her voice totally did not squeak, "I -- um -- I..." Her voice trailed off as she realized she had no idea what to say. What did one say in a situation like this?

Perhaps there was something in her voice. Perhaps there was some kind of smell or look that put him off. Or perhaps Kramer's usual side won the most recent battle. Whatever the reason, he slipped his hand into his pants pocket, hissing ever so slightly as he burned himself on something within. It was his earring, cross-shaped, that he never wore but always kept on his person, and the flash of pain seemed to drive him back into his normal senses.

Even still, it was unlikely that Miyuki would forget the smoldering look in his eyes before he did so, the odd hunger and desire in his eyes in the instant before he'd taken that last, desperate step. Even when he stepped away and turned to flip on the lights, the heat of his body still lingered, as did the understated scent of his cologne. "You don't have to say anything, Satou-sensei." And the way he said it, it was most definitely a distancing statement.

It would have been a complete lie to say that Miyuki wasn't totally disappointed when Kramer seemed to revert to his usual self, turning a cold shoulder on her. She deflated slightly in her chair, her flushed face fading back to its usual color, her nervous smile disappearing altogether. She rubbed one arm, trying weakly to find her composure and failing utterly.

That was it? Really? What would compel Kramer to indulge her in that one utterly sensual moment, and leave it at that? Was he just playing hard-to-get? Was he doing it just to torture her? How...how dare he jerk her around like that!? A woman's feelings were sensitive, delicate, to be handled with the utmost care! He...he just...!

And yet, watching him walk toward the door, she felt her anger fizzle out like a weak flame in the damp night. Why couldn't she bring herself to stay upset with that man? What was it about him? There was something decidedly queer, something not quite... right.

Failing to dwell on it for as long as she probably should have, she got hurriedly to her feet, grabbing her purse from the desk. (Papers be damned!) Her heels clacked unevenly on the cold tile as she hurried after him. "K-Kramer-sensei, wait -- !" What was that all about? she wanted to ask him, but bit her tongue. "U-um -- if you're heading home, would you mind, er, walking me to my car? I mean -- it's after dark, and..." She didn't mean to sound so weak, she just -- she just wanted a few more minutes by his side. The man was such a damned enigma.

Kramer kept his left hand in his pocket, to hide the burn mark that would probably last for a few days, and clenched his teeth against the searing pain. He could deal with it, of course; he dealt with it before, he could do it again. The more important thing was that the moment was over now, that single sensual moment where his guard had slipped a tiny fraction was covered once more. Now there wasn't the danger of before, thank God, and with Miyuki awake, it wasn't quite as tempting any longer. He could endure this. When she asked that question, he forced a smile onto his face- his usual polite one, a gentleman's smile. "Of course. Please, come with me."

It was impossible to hide the disappointment that came with the realization that Kramer had settled back into cold shoulder mode. That smile -- it was the fake one he always insisted on wearing, with none of the heat -- or even lingering warmth -- from that tense moment they'd shared back at the desk. Still, Miyuki hurried to his side, trying to decide if it was worth it to attempt to take his arm in her hands. She wasn't sure what to say, now, and fell into an entirely uncharacteristic silence as she and Kramer walked side-by-side toward the exit.

While Kramer wasn't one to feel bad about anything that he did, for a brief moment, he did feel a tiny bit of regret at Miyuki's silence and how she had grown so withdrawn. But... he didn't want to change things at all. It was safe like this; uncomfortable, awkward, tense, but safe. The moment before had been dangerous, a brief moment where something had almost slipped and shown a part of him that Samuel Kramer didn't want seen. He didn't want to admit it, even; so long as he could keep it quiet, then he didn't have to acknowledge what happened. And, once he got Miyuki to her car, he could go home and begin taking care of that burn seared into his hand.
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