Chapter Text
It was dark and bright at the same time. It was kind of like when the bowling alley had disco night but more seizure inducing. He wasn’t in a bowling alley, Grace could tell that much. It was also warm, almost too warm. He was on his knees, wood flooring pressing against his already bruised skin. There were hands touching him everywhere. The idea that he was at a party popped into his head, except it seemed a little off. However he was too loopy and out of it to even care. The hands roaming his body were good. At least they felt that way. He noticed the absence of an old ache in his bones as the hands began to pull off his clothes–very little they were in the first place.
He turned his hazy attention across the chaos of the room as a bare chest pressed into his back. He couldn’t help but press back into it. Bodies tangled with each other on couches and on the floor. People whose faces he couldn’t make out were doing lines of sparkling powder off of a coffee table. He vaguely noticed a stinging feeling in his own nose as the hands dipped down between his thighs, taking hold of his dick and stroking up and down. The hands began to move faster over his sensitive skin. Sweat and something sticky made the friction more bearable.
He couldn’t hear it really–just like he couldn’t quite make out the words being spoken around him–but he knew he was making noises that would be embarrassing if he was in his right mind. A mouth pressed against his neck, sucking on that sensitive spot below his ear. The mouth ran its tongue over his skin, and then it spoke. He didn’t hear it exactly, but he knew what was being said. “Good boy”, “That’s it Gracy, c’mon”, “God you’re such a fucking slut”.
It didn’t take too long though for another hand to grab hold of his blonde hair and pull his mouth onto something big and warm. He was definitely drooling now, but he didn’t care. It was all too good. He moaned around the cock in his mouth as his eyes began to drift closed. Then, they popped open.
Beep-beep beep-beep be-!! Ryland Grace blindly reached for the off button of his alarm clock. Cheese and crackers, what was that? Grace laid back in bed, breathless despite just having woken up. He couldn’t remember every bit of the dream he had, but from the sticky feeling in his pajama pants and the fractions he could recall it wasn’t hard to put two and two together. The thing was though, he didn’t do that anymore.
Grace didn’t get high and suck dick in the back of parties anymore. He didn’t get passed around like a prize anymore. He surely didn’t wake up in a stranger's bed anymore. In fact he hadn’t done that in almost fifteen years so it was weird he was having dreams about it now. Instead he woke up in his one bedroom apartment, alone but comfortable, and definitely not hungover.
It wasn’t like he was going to panic over a dream though. Of course not. He was a grown man experiencing normal grown man things gosh darnit! He also wasn’t the dipsy wipsy supernatural type. Dreams were nothing but old memories the brain replayed in order to reorganize and determine what was necessary to keep in storage. At least that was one of the many theories he had read about. He had left all of that behind him in grad school. Now he was a teacher to phenomenal kids that he was supposed to be a good role model for.
A quick stretch as he pulled himself out from under his blankets signaled to his bones that it was time to be a person again. The soft tap of his feet served as the only sound in the early morning as he shuffled into the bathroom to wash the sleep off of him (along with the evidence of his subconscious acting up). The water was not too hot but not too cold, the only Goldilock’s Zone he could make himself believe in. Everything went by in a comfortable half awake haze. He was a little more tired than usual. He’d probably stayed up too late grading papers while he watched some nature documentaries.
As he fixed his breakfast he could hear his neighbors waking up. How strange it was to be so close to people but still so far. The sounds of flushing toilets and electric toothbrushes were muffled, but still present as Grace spread orange marmalade on his toast. He’d seen it was on sale at the grocery store and figured he’d give it a try. See? He was so average and uninteresting that a new fruit spread was the highlight of his morning!
Looking up at the microwave he checked the time–six thirty. School started at eight, so he was running just on time. The last pieces of his toast were shoved into his mouth as he turned back towards the bathroom to brush his teeth. Most mornings he forgoed shaving and instead went straight to getting dressed. After a quick check he determined his scraggly beard was short enough to be passable. For clothes, a nice dress shirt with his gray suit would do, he never wore a tie since it felt too restricting. He double, then triple checked that he had all of his students graded work in his bag (he wasn’t trying to have a hoard of angry middle schoolers at his door). Then, with his glasses hanging from between his teeth, he grabbed his helmet and stepped out his door into a crisp new day.
The clouds were low in the sky as Grace exited his apartment. There was nothing gloomy about the weather to him. It was like the world was still clutching its blanket, refusing to wake up. He took a deep breath to smell the morning dew that clung to every surface. The foggy morning was sobering. There was just something about flying down the bike lanes just as the streetlights were winking on. Every couple of minutes a school bus would pass him, sometimes carrying his students as they waved at him. He always made sure to wave back, even if he wasn’t too good at riding a bike one handed.
–____–____–
The only thing Grace could think of that pleased him more than nice cool mornings was the warmth of his classroom. It was his home away from home. Corny science posters littered the walls. A definitely not to scale model of the solar system hung down from the ceiling, gently swaying next to the air vent. Knick-knacks and bottles of specimens (some real and most fake) lined the shelves mounted on the walls. A bucket of felt blankets sat in the corner for the students that were always cold.
Grace prided himself on his classroom being a safe and welcoming place for his students. He’d never admit it but he always tried to be the favorite “cool” teacher. Right now it was between him, the art teacher, and the P.E. coach.
Grace leaned back in his chair with his feet resting on his desk reading through the most recent articles and studies that popped up in his email. Sure he’d left the world of academia years ago, but he still wanted to be aware of what was going on. Not his monkeys, but he still wanted to watch the circus.
He was reading yet another article about human cells being put into the video game Doom (why was it always Doom?) when his mind began to wander. He thought again about hands trailing over his skin and mouths that left dark red marks on his body. Geez, it had been a long time since he’d gotten laid. Was he too old now? No, he’s seen some of his peers still living the party life. Maybe–RING!
Fudge! Had his mind wandered off for that long? Students began to stream into his classroom, finding their seats and taking out their homework from over the weekend. In mere seconds Grace mentally prepared himself for the day, then hopped up out of his chair, ready to be and do whatever his students needed of him.
“Morning my little scientists! How was your weekend?” As answers poured from excited mouths Grace wrote the lesson plan for the day on the chalk board. “Sounds like you guys had fun then! Reminding me again who had Rocky?
“I did, I did!” From the back, a little girl with a bright red braid reached down from under her desk and pulled out a strange rock-spider looking creature. It was no bigger than a small dog.
“Thank you Natasha, did he have a good time?”
“Uh huh! I took him with me to the roller skating rink for my birthday!” Natasha brought Rocky up to the front of the classroom and set him on Grace’s desk.
“Happy belated birthday to you.” Grace picked up Rocky and set him up on the shelf where he surveyed the classroom during weekdays. On weekends he went home with the student who’d answered the most questions during class.
Rocky was a paper mache alien that Grace had collaborated with the art teacher to make. He wanted to teach his kids about evolution by creating a creature that would theoretically live in the 40-Eridani A system. He ended up being a blind, five legged spider-thing with a rock like carapace. His students loved him so much he couldn’t bring himself to trash him after the unit was over.
Grace loved his students almost like they were his own. He had no one else, so he dedicated his time to bringing them the best education he could give them. The day went as they usually did. He gave a quick lecture to get the information out there, then he did some hands-on activities. At the very end of class they were given a quick quiz so he could gauge who may have needed some extra help. It was routine. He liked routine, and his students seemed to like it as well.
He was passing out the end of class quizzes when one of his students–D’shawn–piped up from his seat. “Mr. Grace, have you met the new history teacher?”
Grace paused for a second, trying to remember something. “No, I don't think so, bud. I completely forgot we were getting a new one to replace Ms. Mayal.” He finished passing out most of the papers, then navigated the rows of desks and backpacks over to D’Shawn to give him his specially printed quiz. The kid had dyslexia, so Grace made sure to print his work bigger and with a font that was easier for him to read. “Alright, all the quizzes are passed out. You’ve got the rest of class to work.”
Sitting back in his chair with his feet up on his desk, Grace took a moment to savor the sight of all his little scientists scribbling away. He imagined them all growing up as he only grew old. There was no doubt that some of them would face a world of struggle. That was just an unfortunate fact of life. He just hoped that none of them went on the self destructive path he’d chosen for himself in his younger years. If they did, he hoped they’d be able to claw themselves out of it like he did.
It must have been strange to see little hands gripping onto glitter gel pens and imagining the horrors of life, but he guessed he’d just gotten to the age his dad had been when he projected that fear onto him as a child. But now he’d overcome that.
Grace liked how his life was right now. He liked his predictable routine and his amazing students. He didn’t need anything more than this. He was a well adjusted responsible adult now. There was no point in dwelling on the past when he had the future. No longer did he feel the need to pray to a cocaine Jesus.