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12 JASON

“Afternoon, Coach,” Eddie’s smile is clipped tight, his hair in disarray and the buttons on his shirt done up wrong. “Sorry I’m late. The twins are in their I don’t like clothing phase so getting them to put something on to get them to my parent’s house was—interesting. It took me almost half an hour to get them to put underwear on.”

“Alec went through that,” Jason laughs, recalling the times one of his parents or his abuela would scoop Alec up in a blanket to get him out of the front yard naked. “It was hilarious.”

“It’s hilarious when it’s someone else’s kids and not yours,” Eddie groans. “Archer ended up wearing his Halloween costume, mask and all, and Sawyer went in his bathing suit with a tutu.”

“At least it’s clothing,” Jason grins. “Or clothing adjacent. Is Sawyer still wearing tutus with everything?”

Eddie nods, shoving his hands in his pockets. “My parents think it’s a phase he’ll outgrow. Which is possible. I mean he’s four, so he might, but I don’t like the way people talk about him like he’s not there because they don’t expect to see a little boy in firetruck boots and a pink tutu. Pisses me the fuck off.”

“Most people aren’t assholes about it though, right?”

“Nah, not where we send the kids. Their preschool is great, but I worry.”

Jason breathes in the salt air, lungs oddly tight. This isn’t the first time he and Eddie have had a conversation like this, but it’s the first since Jason’s realization over the weekend, and it hits differently.

“If anyone gives you guys a problem, let me know.”

“We’re good, Coach.” Eddie gulps down some of the coffee Jason knows to be in his travel mug. The man is addicted. “The support is appreciated though. Honestly it’s too early to know what it all means for him, he’s a kid. I just want him to have the freedom to be himself until he knows who that is, you know?”

Jason does know. Or he thought he did. He’s thirty and only now realizing he is maybe, possibly, not as straight as he always thought. He has no idea what he is, but he’s quite certain having a crush on his male coworker means that he is not straight. Although thinking that is a disservice to Emerson. He’s not just Jason’s coworker, he’s his friend, one of the closest he’s ever had, which led Jason to spiraling the entire weekend about what it all meant. He spent a few hours convinced he was just confusing friendship with affection but then he’d thought about Emerson’s pretty eyes and hard-to-earn smiles leading to the thought that he wouldn’t mind kissing him—something he’d never once in over two decades of friendship thought about Theo.

“Where’s Matty by the way?” Eddie’s eyes scan the field where the players are currently running agility drills. “I don’t see him. He’s not hurt, is he? Shit, we can’t lose our quarterback homecoming week, we'll be screwed.”

“He’s not hurt,” Jason assures him, struggling to focus on football when all his brain wants to do is think about Emerson.

Why him? He’s had countless close male friends before. Not once has he ever wanted to touch them the way he does Emerson. He thought it was just his normal tactile nature but after this past weekend, he’s realized a few things about himself—namely that he’s pretty damn handsy with Emerson. The more he acknowledged this, the easier it was to admit how much he likes touching Emerson, how right it is to have him within reach. Nothing feels as good as having his arms around him, but being able to lay a hand at his back or his shoulder is a close second.

Over the weekend, when Emerson fell asleep during their movie night, his body had slumped sideways into Jason. It’d felt so natural to lift his arm and curl Emerson into him. When Emerson woke up an hour later, he’d been sleepy, confused and then blushed when he realized he was all but in Jason’s lap. For the first time Jason thought, I could lean down and kiss him . He did not, both because kissing people without permission isn’t Jason’s idea of a good time, and because realizing he wanted to kiss a man for the first had been a little overwhelming. He waited until the movie ended and Emerson was safely home before laying face down on his bed and having a minor breakdown, both dogs barking at his back as if they sensed his unease and hated it as much as Jason did.

Laying there in the dark unable to sleep, he’d tried to compare how he felt for Emerson to how he felt for any of his ex-girlfriends, but that was a futile comparison. Looking back it's easy for Jason to realize he’d always been the one pursued in relationships, oftentimes ending up with women who appreciated his size and his football reputation more than his personality. Jason has always liked making people happy. At least, until their happiness came at the expense of his friendship with Theo, or wanting to use Jason as some kind of arm candy, and then he was able to recognize how little they made him happy.

Sure he’d liked them at first, but Jason liked almost everyone, so he’s not sure that is a good litmus test. The more he thought about it the more he realized, he’d never been all that upset when the relationships ended because he’d never been attached to any of them. Did that mean he’d been acting out of subconscious heteronormativity? He didn’t think so since he enjoyed the sex, but then again Jason was also just as happy to jerk off by himself as he was to get off with someone else, so he’s not even sure what that means.

When not in a relationship, he’d never liked hook ups or one night stands, finding them far too impersonal. Did that make him some level of ace? He didn't think that fit either. He didn’t need an emotional connection for sex, he just preferred it.

Charlie told him in no uncertain terms that he didn’t need a label to like Emerson, which was all well and good, except that Emerson liked when things made sense. How would he feel if Jason confessed while not understanding his feelings at all? Would it make him uneasy? Anxious? Maybe he doesn’t even return Jason’s feelings. Whatever the hell those feelings are. Being gay doesn’t mean he’s automatically attracted to all men, or Jason.

Maybe Emerson only likes him as a friend, and this wondering and worrying is pointless. Maybe Jason’s having some giant queer awakening for nothing. Not that you have to be in a relationship to be queer, but Jason wants one. At least, he thinks he does. He’d been content to not have one for years, but watching Theo and Alec dredged up a longing for companionship that didn’t quite make sense until Emerson came along and filled in all the little holes in Jason’s heart he hadn’t even known existed.

“You alright, Jason?”

For whatever reason, Eddie rarely calls him by his first name, so the use of it drags him from the brink.

“I’m good, just uh, remembered I forgot something,” Jason lies, hating himself for the deception but needing a few minutes to gather his thoughts. It’s not going to do his team any good to see him anxious, especially not this week. They count on him to always be strong and steady, and he will be. He just needs to pull his shit together. “Think you can hold down practice for me?”

“You know I can,” Eddie assures him, pulling his whistle out of his pocket and slipping the lanyard around his neck like he’s been waiting for just this moment.

“I’ll hurry.”

Eddie shakes his head, clapping Jason on the back. “I got this, no worries.”

Jason grins despite the turmoil coiling itself around his lungs. He knows he can count on Eddie, which is exactly why he makes such an incredible assistant coach. Not only do the kids love him, he’s reliable as hell like Jason. Or at least, as reliable as Jason is when he’s not having a sexuality crisis.

Halfway across the lawn, he pulls out his phone to call Theo, pocketing it just as quickly. If there’s anyone in the world who would understand what he’s going through it’s his best friend but something stops him. He doesn’t want to ask Theo to lie to Alec or keep secrets from him, not after all the shit they’ve been through. Neither is he in the mood for everyone to know his business, which would happen if Alec knew.

Hell, Alec would probably throw him a coming out party. Although Jason’s not sure if it counts as coming out if he’s just vaguely confused and still not sure if he’s got heartburn or something else, because every time he thinks about Charlie flirting with Emerson his chest burns. He kind of hates himself for keeping it a secret. He’s got the world’s best friend, and not only are all of his brothers queer, they would support him. Jason is lucky as fuck because he has nothing to lose, at least not with his family. It’s just that Jason has no idea what any of this means, and he would kind of rather figure it out, at least a little bit, before making any big declarations or sharing it with his entire well-meaning but nosy as shit family.

Maybe it's panic, or maybe he’s being selfish. Either way, he’d like to keep a bit of this to himself for as long as he can. For reasons he can’t explain, or maybe doesn’t want to think about because it makes him feel even more panicky, he knows Emerson is something special—someone once in a lifetime—and he doesn’t want to fuck it up.

Whatever is going on in Jason’s head he needs to be damn sure he understands it before he drags Emerson into it. Either Emerson won’t return his feelings and Jason needs to be emotionally fortified to handle the rejection, or Emerson does at which point Jason better be damn sure what his feelings mean because if there is one thing Jason is sure of, it’s that he won’t hurt Emerson.

Whatever Emerson wants, whatever he needs, Jason wants to give him.

That alone should probably be all the tip off Jason needs. Even with his exes, he’d wanted to make them happy but not like this. Trying to mesh their wants with his own life had felt like constantly having to sacrifice what he loved and wanted for them, like two magnets trying to repel. Emerson fits into Jason’s life in a way that makes it hard for him to believe less than six weeks ago he didn’t even know him. Now, he can’t imagine his life without him.

Now, he wants to kiss him.

That second thought floats into his brain without permission, as it’s been doing a lot the last forty-eight hours. Every time he questions himself, his identity or his feelings or whether he’s interested in men, he thinks about Emerson and his brain says, well, we’re interested in that one.

He has no idea if that means he’s always been into men and somehow too blind to see it, or if it’s just Emerson. All he knows is everything about being with Emerson makes Jason happy, maybe the happiest he’s ever been, which is saying something since he’s a pretty damn happy guy. And maybe, he thinks that’s always been the problem. His past relationships ending always seemed inevitable because how could anyone make him happier than he already was when he had a great family, good friends and the world’s best job? But then Emerson showed up, and suddenly Jason realized even a happy life could be happier.

And Emerson? He makes Jason so god damn happy his heart feels like it might burst out of his chest.

Emerson, whose voice Jason hears right now. With a bemused smile, he looks up and notices exactly where he is. Somehow, he marched himself all the way across campus and to Emerson’s classroom. He’s not even sorry about his subconscious journey. Maybe this isn’t the alone time he planned, but being able to check on Emerson and Matty might give him some purpose. Besides, Emerson had spent lunch today in his room making notes to help Matty this afternoon. While Jason is grateful and impressed, he also missed his standing lunch date with Emerson.

The idea that he’s so out of sorts and spiraling just because he hasn’t seen Emerson in seven hours is something Jason is not willing to think about too deeply. He’s got enough on his mind without having to acknowledge that his feelings for Emerson—for a man—go far beyond a little physical attraction.

With the door propped open, he can hear the familiar hum of Emerson’s voice followed by Matty’s much deeper voice.

“I don’t see how that helps.”

Inching closer to the open doorway, Jason quietly cracks it open to peer inside.

“The amazing thing about literature is the way it can connect us. Whether you’re reading a book entirely rooted in fantasy or something based on real life, the stories evoke emotion. I want to know how this book made you feel, Matty.”

“It pissed me the fuck off, Mr. Miller,” Matty answers. “The entire thing was bullshit.”

“It’s autobiographical,” Emerson offers in a neutral tone.

“That’s what pisses me off,” Matty grumbles. “It’s bullshit that people get treated like this. The government is supposed to help, but how can it do that when all the laws and rules it’s founded on are racist as fuck. Sorry, Mr. Miller. I know I’m not supposed to say fuck in front of teachers, but it pisses me the fuck off.”

“And that anger isn’t misplaced. When there is injustice you should feel—” but Emerson pauses, turning his head to stare at Jason. “Looks like we’ve got some company. Aren’t you supposed to be at practice, Mr. King?”

“Oh no, pretend I’m not here,” Jason tries, holding his hands up.

“You’re too big to be invisible, Coach,” Matty grins. “Did you miss your favorite student? You did, right?”

“You know I can’t have favorites,” Jason tells him, even if the words are most definitely true. Practice today wasn’t the same without him, both because of his skill but also his personality. As captain, he’s the rock of the team, and it’s difficult to imagine next year without him. Matty is going to be one of the kids it’s hard to let go of, even if Jason is excited for the future he’s got ahead of him.

“Whatever you say, Coach,” Matty grins.

Emerson’s lips twitch like he’s trying not to smile and all the jumbled, confusing pieces of Jason’s heart and brain just settle. Emerson is so handsome with his dark green shirt that makes his pale eyes almost sparkle and his hair all tousled. Seeing him now, Jason can admit that yes, an entire day without him is way too long. The implications of that are more than he can cope with right now, but with Emerson in sight, it’s easy to push away the scary unknowns and focus on him.

When Emerson’s lips turn up at the corners to offer Jason a small, private smile, he wants to literally stomp his feet the way he used to when he played football. There’s no goal in sight, but Emerson is worth more than any touchdown.

Deciding to go for broke, Jason strides into the room and sits himself at one of the chairs beside them. Or tries to anyway. The desks are too damn small for someone of Jason’s stature, and though he’s squeezed himself in, he’s not sure he’s going to get back out of the desk without it breaking.

“That doesn’t look too comfortable, Coach.”

“I’m good,” Jason insists, refusing to admit his ass and thighs are squashed while Emerson stares at him. “How’s the book report coming?”

“Shit,” Matty answers at the same time Emerson says “good.”

“Mr. Miller is being nice,” Matty offers.

“Mr. Miller is nice,” Jason agrees, always ready to sing his praises.

“I’m also honest. I don’t like lying, and I wouldn’t do it to make you feel better,” Emerson tells him. “You’ve already got your intro and a few key points marked down into your notes. You just need to add your opinion.”

“My opinion is the government is fucked up,” Matty frowns.

“Which can be rephrased to point out how strongly the foundational injustices that are rooted in our legal systems make you feel, because they set up a system of oppression rather than dismantling it,” Emerson says.

“If I say that, Mr. Caldwell will think I cheated.”

“Maybe use your words, though probably with less fucks,” Emerson suggests, earning him a laugh from Jason and Matty.

“You’re a kick-ass teacher, Mr. Miller. I wish you’d been here when I was a freshman. I might've liked English more.”

The shift in Emerson is subtle, but since Jason’s playing the watch-Emerson game, it’s easy to pick up on the slight straightening of his back and the flush of pink on his cheeks. He looks surprised, but also proud, and it makes Jason want to hug him so much he finds his hands curling around the edge of the desk to keep from reaching out.

Jason is so screwed. Whatever the hell he is, it’s definitely not straight.

* * *

Between the homecoming preparations Jason volunteered to help oversee—something that takes over his lunch time and every spare second he’s not teaching or coaching—his classes and football practice, Jason’s week is going to be a shit show. He’s overly committed, something he normally takes with a grain of salt but finds is making him cranky this year. Because for the first time, there’s something he wants more than making everyone else happy—Emerson.

Sure he’s going to see him every day because they ride together, and yeah they text sporadically during the day and as much as they can at night before Jason passes out from exhaustion, but it’s not the same. They’ll have to forgo their midday lunch dates, and though they’ve only missed one before this week, he’s not sure he realized how integral to his day it’d become until he thought about not having it. It doesn’t even matter if one of them is venting about work or just shooting the shit about something random because talking to Emerson, just being with him, is always the best part of Jason’s day.

When Thursday rolls around, he's managed to miss lunch with Emerson the entire week in order to oversee the homecoming committee, leaving Jason in a sour mood. This mood is matched by the weather, the normal morning coastal fog never gives way to the expected sunshine and instead offers a smattering of rain. It’s not heavy, full rain; it's something annoying and misty like the sky can’t decide what it’s doing. It’s just enough that Jason would normally have to pull his kids into the gym, but with it entirely decked out for the dance tomorrow, there’s nowhere to send them except study hall, leaving him with a free period.

Rapping his knuckles on the side of his desk, he looks around for something to keep himself occupied. Deciding to catch up on stuff for the upcoming homecoming game, he goes over his player stats and finalizes some of the plays for the big game, praying the rain lets up enough for the kids to enjoy it. While he works, he makes his way through his afternoon snack and his entire lunch knowing he won’t be able to have his usual open door lunch with the kids because of the gym situation. By the time the bell rings signaling the official lunch break, Jason’s finished his work and his food. Rather than feel accomplished or satisfied, he is more restless than ever.

He pulls his phone out, intending to text Emerson, when he realizes he can just go see him. He knows now that Emerson eats lunch in his classroom when not with Jason. Pocketing his phone, he all but runs from his office, pulling his hoodie back on as he stalks through the gym and out into the elements. The rain is still going, but there are pockets of blue skies and sunshine far on the horizon signaling its end is near.

“Take that rain,” Jason grins, finding the drops that fall on his face refreshing after too many hours spent indoors. Jason is not meant to spend the entire day inside cooped up, and the walk across campus does him good, his muscles loosening and his mind clearing. Shaking water droplets from his hair, he ducks beneath the sloped roof that covers the doorway to Emerson’s classroom, ready to push it open further when the sound of a raised voice stops him in his tracks.

“You have no business interfering with my students or trying to usurp my place at the school, Mr. Miller. None.”

“I wasn’t?—”

“You were,” Caldwell snaps, the grating timber of his voice made worse by the tone he’s using. “There is no way Matthew would have passed without help, which I did not provide as he had ample time to do the work of his own volition.”

“Matty needs extra accommodations.”

“Matthew does not have any legal accommodations on file. I would know, as I’m his teacher, not you.” Jason doesn’t need to see Caldwell to imagine the sneer he’s probably got in place. “He should be sitting out from the game Friday on the sidelines where he belongs, reaping the consequences of his own ill organized time management and apathy. Putting sports above academics has left him bereft, and it shows.”

Jason’s teeth grind. How fucking dare Caldwell talk about his kid like that, a kid who works damn fucking hard at everything, academics included given his lack of supports. Worse, how dare he yell at Emerson for stepping up when so many others haven’t. Jason understands personally the limitations of helping kids without legal accommodations when there’s no official diagnosis, but Caldwell is a fucking dick who would probably ignore an IEP or 504 if there was no one there to force him to legally follow it.

“Afternoon, gentlemen,” Jason says, his wide smile at odds with the simmering anger burning a hole in his gut when he takes a look at Caldwell’s smug face and Emerson’s stricken one. He’s never wanted to punch anyone the way he does Caldwell, but getting fired or arrested won’t save anyone from Caldwell’s bigoted asshole behavior.

“Mr. King, we’re having a private conversation here. I understand you seem to think you’re welcome anywhere you desire but?—”

“I have a lunch appointment with Emerson,” Jason interrupts, striding across the room to position himself at a slight angle between Caldwell and Emerson as if he can block Caldwell’s negativity with his own body. On any given day, he lets a lot slide because there’s nothing he can do about how much Mr. Caldwell dislikes him or athletes, but if he thinks he can intimidate Emerson while Jason is here, he’s got another thing coming.

Over Jason’s dead fucking body will anyone make Emerson uncomfortable.

“I told you, we’re having a private conversation.” Mr. Caldwell’s eyes flare with annoyance. “This doesn’t concern you. You can wait outside until I’m done speaking with Mr. Miller here.”

“I’m fine right where I am,” Jason counters. “And for the record, anything involving my players concerns me. If you have anything to say about one of them, feel free to say it to my face, or better yet we can have a meeting with the principal if you’d prefer.”

“Whatever you heard was not a conversation for your ears, Mr. King.”

“And yet my ears heard perfectly. One of my players had a book report due, which was written and turned in by the assigned deadline, removing any threat of academic freeze and freeing him to play in the game this week regardless of your personal feelings.”

Mr. Caldwell bristles, clearly surprised. Jason is surprised, too. Usually he lets him get away with shit because it’s easier than fighting back, but something about seeing him direct his behavior at Emerson has Jason ready to do anything to get rid of him, well, barring physical violence. Putting him in his place though is something Jason’s wanted to do for years, and now seems as good of a time as any.

“Your personal feelings should have no bearing on how you teach.”

“I don’t know what you’re implying, Mr. King, but I don’t like your tone.”

“You don’t?” Jason muses. “Damn. How… unfortunate .”

If steam could come out of Mr. Caldwell’s head, it would, his bulbous eyes protruding with agitation and his pale cheeks flushed red. He turns his gaze away from Jason and focuses it on Emerson instead. “I’ll see that you don’t overstep in the future, Mr. Miller.”

Without waiting for a response he turns, his sneakers squeaking on the floor as he departs.

Jason waits until he’s gone to turn towards Emerson, pulling him into a fierce hug which Emerson returns with more force than usual, his longer fingers fisting so tightly in the back of Jason’s hoodie it feels like he might rip a hole in it. Not that Jason would care. Clothing is replaceable, Emerson is not.

“Caldwell is a fucking dick.” He rubs his hands along Emerson’s spine, the line of his back tense and unmoving. “I’m sorry he gave you shit just because you were helping out one of my players. I didn’t mean to drag you into whatever his issue is with the athletes.”

Emerson grumbles something unintelligible from where his face is smashed into Jason’s shoulder.

“What was that?” Jason asks, settling his palm on Emerson’s lower back to pull him that much closer, something in his brain screaming to keep him close and safe. Sure Caldwell isn’t a real threat, but he made Emerson uncomfortable, and for that Jason hates him more than ever. “I couldn’t quite make it out clearly. Did you say, ‘Jason, I hate Caldwell, and I hope he burns in the fires of Mordor?’”

The soft rumble of Emerson’s amusement reverberates against Jason’s chest and eases away the tightness. More of that same tension slips away when Emerson pulls out of the embrace and smiles at Jason.

“I did not say that,” Emerson huffs, “but I might have thought it.”

“Then I’ll say it out loud for the both of us,” Jason grins, relishing the feeling of Emerson in his arms.

Shit, how did he not see his feelings from the beginning? Worse, how is he supposed to cope now that he has?

“You know what?” Emerson says, taking a step back from the embrace to seat himself on the edge of one of the student desks. Jason copies his position, choosing the desk closest so his knees butt up against Emerson’s.

“What?” Jason asks, pressing his knees against Emerson’s. He’s not exactly subtle about his increasing desire to touch, but Emerson either hasn’t noticed or doesn’t realize what it means.

He’s not sure which is more probable; the second is most likely, given Emerson’s inability to read subtext, which is the world’s biggest blessing and curse all wrapped in one for this current situation. He isn’t calling Jason on how obvious he’s being, but he won’t ever because it most likely isn’t obvious to him.

It occurs to Jason that if he wants to know how Emerson feels about him having feelings for him, he’s going to have to explicitly ask.

“Caldwell is an asshole.” Emerson sits up straight. “How dare he.”

Just, maybe not right now.

“Conversation just now registering?” Jason asks, increasing the pressure of his knee against Emerson’s.

“Yes,” Emerson frowns, crossing his arms. “How dare he care more about his own ego than his students. What a, a?—”

“Asshole? Dick face? Fucker? I’m trying to think of some kind of elven reference for you, but I think I used all my cool points with the Mordor thing.”

The corner of Emerson’s lips twitch, a sharp contrast to his furrowed features. Even mad, he’s adorable and Jason itches to smooth away the lines between his pale eyebrows, to kiss his delicate brow. To?—

“He’s horrible,” Emerson groans, dragging Jason’s attention back to the conversation. “Caldwell is exactly like the teachers who used to make me think I was stupid or an inconvenience. It makes me so angry that I just shut down. He said all those horrible things, and it was like my brain froze, and I couldn’t talk.”

Emerson’s been open about his issues with going nonverbal like that, and while Jason has never experienced it, he’s beginning to understand the kind of stress response it triggers in Emerson, and he’s eager to help him move past it.

“He might be a shitty person and a shitty teacher but you’re not. You are the kind of teacher who gives kids hope,” Jason soothes, laying his hand on Emerson’s knee. “You’re worth a hundred Caldwells.”

“I don’t know about that,” Emerson protests.

“I do. You’re a good teacher and this school is better with you here.” Verbalizing this makes a lump form in Jason’s throat, especially when Emerson’s jaw wobbles. Has anyone ever told him how incredible he is? How much better off the world is with him in it? Jason doesn’t think so and it makes him want to do it every day for the rest of Emerson’s life, to be there at his side cheering him on and reminding him how goddamn awesome he is. Just because not everyone sees it doesn’t mean it’s not true. “My life is better with you here.”

Emerson’s pale eyelashes flutter, resting against his high cheekbones. Slowly, he breathes in and out, his eye contact so intense Jason feels like Emerson is looking into his very soul.

Suddenly, Jason is imagining what might happen if he blurted everything out right now. What’s the worst that could happen if he got the nerve to simply say, you are so special to me and I think my feelings have changed . Except that’s not right. He’s not sure they’ve changed at all. It feels like maybe they’ve been there since that very first day, he just didn’t know what they meant.

Maybe something else. Emmy, I don’t think I’m as straight as I thought I was, and I’m pretty sure I want to kiss you . Terrible. Jason wishes he had a football in his hands so he could throw something. What a paltry explanation that would be for the man who deserves so much more than Jason’s floundering. He knows he wants to kiss Emerson, but why is saying that out loud so difficult? Jason’s never been scared of saying that to a woman before.

“Did you forget to eat?” Emerson asks, poking Jason’s stomach. “You’re making that pinchy face.”

“I ate,” Jason says, unsure how to explain his pinchy face is because he has a massive not-fucking-straight-crush on him. Does this make him bisexual? The idea of kissing any of the other male teachers here makes Jason recoil, but then again he doesn’t want to kiss any of the women here either. It’s been a long time since he wanted to kiss anyone, now that he thinks about it. His last few failed relationships had soured him on the dating scene in order to avoid anything superficial.

Being alone was preferable to something that wasn’t real. Well, Emerson is right here and he’s the realest thing Jason’s ever known. It’s wonderful and terrifying, and Jason feels like a bumbling teenager with his first crush all over again as he rubs his sweaty palms on his knees. There’s no way he’s going to survive hiding this for long. Jason is terrible at keeping secrets, and worst of all, every second that goes by where he doesn’t tell Emerson feels like a lie.

“Are you nervous about the game? Or maybe about the dance?” Emerson hedges, looking unsure. “I am.”

Something settles in Jason. Thinking about himself is confusing and kind of annoying. Thinking about Emerson is easy. He would much prefer to focus his attention on soothing Emerson’s nerves than his own hot mess of a sexuality crisis.

“Don’t be, I’ll be with you the entire time. Well, maybe not the entire time because we’re supposed to periodically make rounds on the dance floor, and last year I had to break up something in the bathroom I wish I hadn’t seen. But I’ll be with you, like, ninety-eight percent of the night.”

“Ninety-eight percent, huh?”

“I’m trying to be very specific,” Jason grins. “However, if this is not accurate you have permission to be mad at me.”

“I won’t be mad at you,” Emerson says with a subtle shake of his head. “I’m not—I know we’re not there to have fun. We’re there to supervise and?—”

“Why aren’t we there to have fun?” Jason interrupts.

“Well, we’re the teachers,” Emerson says matter of factly.

“Teachers can have fun,” Jason tells him. “I plan on having a lot of fun.”

“Is someone else going?” Emerson asks.

“Is someone else— no . I mean fun with you , Emmy.”

The look of surprise on his face is not something Jason thinks he can ever get used to.

“I’ve never been to a dance, not as a student or a teacher,” Emerson says, the hint of embarrassment coloring his tone. They’ve talked about it before, but Jason suspects their wildly different high school experiences left lasting impressions on each of them; Emerson’s, unfortunately, for the worse. “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do there. I can’t imagine that it will be very fun for you just to follow me around.”

Truthfully, there’s nothing Jason would rather do than spend an entire night following Emerson around. Before he can say this, Emerson is speaking again.

“I don’t mind taking over most of the rounds so you can enjoy yourself,” Emerson offers, as if Jason would let anyone, especially Emerson, take all the responsibility. As if for Jason there is anything in the world he would rather do than be with Emerson. Regardless of his new thoughts about holding hands and kissing, he’d still pick Emerson every time. Boring teacher duties and all.

“I’ll enjoy myself because you’re there,” Jason assures him, the huff of disbelief followed by the hint of a smile enough to soothe the caveman part of Jason itching to hide Emerson away so from now on, no one else can ever hurt his feelings again. It’s just impossible for Jason to believe that there are people who got to know him their entire life, and they never realized what a goddamn treasure he is.

Staring at those wide, green eyes all Jason can think is that Emerson is his favorite person. Even if nothing ever comes of his new feelings that would be okay; if nothing ever changes between them and all he ever gets are morning commutes and shared lunches and a phone full of text messages it will be enough because Emerson is enough.

Emerson is everything .

Oh fucking shit, he doesn’t just have a crush on a man, he might be falling in love with one.