Monday morning brought an unexpected challenge when Adrian walked into calculus class with a visible bruise on his cheekbone. He had acquired the injury during a weekend training session at the FBI facility, but maintaining his cover required a different explanation.
Blake noticed the bruise immediately, his eyes lingering on Adrian's face with obvious concern before he caught himself and looked away. Adrian pretended not to notice Blake's reaction while taking his usual seat in the middle of the classroom.
"Rough weekend, Matthews?" Mike called out from across the room. "Did you get into a fight at another party?"
Adrian shrugged casually. "Just took a tumble while skateboarding. Nothing dramatic."
Blake began the lesson on integral calculus, but Adrian observed that the teacher kept glancing in his direction throughout the class period. The concern in Blake's expression seemed disproportionate to what a teacher should feel about a student's minor injury.
After class ended and students filed out for their next period, Blake called out just as Adrian reached the door.
"Mr. Matthews, could you remain behind for a moment?"
Adrian turned back, noting that Blake had waited until the classroom was completely empty before speaking. "Is there a problem with my homework, Mr. Morrison?"
Blake approached him slowly, his professional demeanor slipping slightly as he studied the bruise more closely. "What really happened to your face?"
"I told you, skateboarding accident." Adrian maintained his innocent student expression. "Why would you think I was lying?"
"Because," Blake said quietly, "that bruise pattern is consistent with impact from a fist, not a fall onto pavement."
Adrian raised an eyebrow. "You seem to know a lot about bruise patterns for a math teacher."
Blake's cheeks flushed slightly. "I watch a lot of crime shows."
"Right." Adrian grinned. "And I suppose those crime shows also taught you to stare at your students like you're trying to solve a mystery?"
"I do not stare at you," Blake protested, though his voice lacked conviction.
"Mr. Morrison, you stared at me fourteen times during class today. I counted." Adrian stepped closer to Blake's desk. "Yesterday it was twelve times. The day before that, you managed sixteen."
Blake's face grew redder. "I was not counting..."
"I keep track of these things," Adrian said with amusement. "It's become kind of entertaining, actually. Like a game."
"This is not a game," Blake said, though he seemed flustered rather than truly annoyed. "I'm concerned about your welfare as your teacher."
"My welfare?" Adrian tilted his head. "Or something else?"
Blake opened his mouth to respond, then closed it again, apparently unable to formulate an appropriate answer. Adrian found the sight of his composed husband struggling with basic conversation unexpectedly endearing.
"You know what I think, Mr. Morrison?" Adrian said, moving to lean against the desk. "I think you worry about me more than you should worry about a regular student."
"You're not..." Blake started, then stopped himself.
"Not what?"
Blake stared at him for a long moment. "Not like other students I've taught."
The admission hung in the air between them. Adrian felt something shift in the dynamic of their relationship, though he could not identify exactly what had changed.
"Maybe that's because I'm not really eighteen," Adrian said softly, testing Blake's reaction.
Blake's eyes widened slightly. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying," Adrian replied with a mischievous smile, "that I'm very mature for my age."
Blake looked both relieved and disappointed by the clarification. "You certainly are."
The school bell rang, indicating the start of the next period. Adrian straightened up from the desk, but before he could move toward the door, Blake reached out and gently touched his arm.
"Adrian," Blake said, then seemed surprised by his own use of the first name. "Just... be careful, okay? Whatever you're really doing here."
The genuine concern in Blake's voice caught Adrian off guard. For a moment, he forgot about maintaining his cover and simply looked at Blake as the man who had unexpectedly entered his life two years ago to solve his problems without asking for anything in return.
"I will," Adrian said quietly. "I promise."
Blake's hand was still resting on Adrian's arm, and neither of them seemed inclined to move away. Adrian became aware of how close they were standing, how Blake's cologne reminded him of their wedding day, how Blake's eyes held an expression he had never seen before.
"I should go," Adrian said, though he made no effort to step back.
"Yes," Blake agreed, though he also remained motionless. "Your next class."
"Right. My next class."
They stood there for another moment, caught in an inexplicable tension that had nothing to do with their complicated history and everything to do with the present moment. Adrian found himself studying Blake's face, noting details he had missed two years ago when they were both focused on completing a business transaction.
Blake had kind eyes behind his wire-rimmed glasses. His hair was slightly messed from running his hands through it during the lesson. There was a small scar near his left temple that Adrian wondered about. These observations felt dangerous in ways that had nothing to do with his FBI mission.
"Adrian," Blake said again, his voice softer than before.
"Yeah?"
"If you ever need anything... not as a student, but as..." Blake struggled with how to finish the sentence.
"As your husband?" Adrian supplied helpfully. "I told you , I'm not your husband. We never m—"
" And You thought I'll believe that?" He sigh.
Blake's cheeks turned pink again. "As someone I care about."
The admission seemed to surprise both of them. Adrian felt his own composure slip as he processed what Blake had just said.
"You care about me?" Adrian asked. "You barely know me."
"Maybe," Blake said. "But I'd like to change that."
The second bell rang, indicating that Adrian was now officially late for his next class. The sound broke the spell that had settled over them, and Adrian stepped back with visible reluctance.
"I really do have to go now," Adrian said.
"Of course." Blake moved behind his desk, putting professional distance between them again. "Don't forget your homework assignment."
Adrian smiled and headed for the door, pausing with his hand on the handle. "Mr. Morrison?"
"Yes?"
"For what it's worth, I'd like to change that too."
Adrian left Blake standing in his empty classroom, staring at the door with an expression that combined confusion, hope, and something that looked remarkably like affection.
As Adrian hurried toward his next class, he realized that his husband was becoming far more complicated than his mission parameters had anticipated. The fake marriage that was supposed to mean nothing was starting to feel like something entirely different, and Adrian was not certain whether that development represented a problem or an opportunity.