Chapter Text
Ambrosius let go of Nimona's small hand as they arrived at the door of his classroom. He gestured for her to take a seat at whatever empty desk they had left before turning his attention to the chaos that were the other students. His coworker clearly hadn't kept his side of the promise and Ambrosius was ready to scold him as he pulled a child off of the windowsill and returned him to his seat.
"Okay, okay!" he raised his voice, rushing to the front of the classroom and closing the door. He was starting to feel jealous of Todd and the whistle he always carried with him to get the attention of his students. "Let's calm down, alright?"
Against all odds, the children actually complied. They were still fidgety and unable to stay still, but the volume of the classroom lowered significantly. Ambrosius smiled, able to hear his own thoughts again. "Perfect, thank you so much."
He stepped over to the whiteboard and grabbed a marker. After making sure it wasn't a Sharpie, he quickly wrote his own name at the top of the board. "Like I already said, my name is Ambrosius Goldenloin," he said, scrawling a line under the text. "But you can call me whatever you'd like. I'm not picky."
The children looked around, quite uncertain. Ambrosius was used to it. "My name is a little bit difficult. A lot of my students shorten it to Mr. Goldie. Whatever makes you the most comfortable," he assured with a smile. He knew some of the other teachers were rather strict when it came to how the students addressed them, but he'd never been one to refuse first-name basis.
"Now that you know my name, I'd like to know yours," he said, reaching for his tablet again. "I'm going to make a seating plan based on where you're currently at. Is everyone okay with their seats?"
A mix of nodding and mumbling was all he got as a response, but he decided it was good enough. "Perfect. If anything happens and you want me to switch your seat, don't hesitate to ask," he said, tapping away on his tablet.
"I have some paper and markers here," Ambrosius pointed at the corner of his desk, putting the device down for a moment. "What I want you to do is come over and grab some, then make them into a little sign with your name on it." The students began perking up at that, clearly happy to get to do an activity instead of passively sitting around.
After the momentary mess that was two dozen first-graders rushing to follow his orders, everyone returned to their seats with a pen and paper in hand. Ambrosius quickly grabbed a piece too, showing the children how to fold it in half to make a neat little plaque. "If you don't know how to write your name, just ask!" he shouted over the excited chatter of the students.
He began going around the classroom, asking everyone their names individually and checking that each child was writing on the actual paper instead of the desk. He fixed a couple spelling mistakes, gave extra praise to those who already knew how to write their names and confiscated a ruler someone was slapping their classmate with before arriving at Nimona's desk. He peeked over her shoulder at the nameplate while typing her name into the seating plan.
"I think you flipped one of the N's there," he pointed out, gesturing at the misspelling with a soft smile.
"It's on purpose," the redhead replied straight away.
"Oh," Ambrosius chuckled. "Sorry." He lingered behind her, watching her work on a drawing of… a dragon, he wanted to say? in the corner of the paper. Honestly, he had learned to not question children's drawings; nothing was worse than guessing wrong and upsetting them for the rest of the day because he hadn't been able to decipher the random assortment of shaky lines.
"Why you starin'?" Nimona asked, tilting her head up at him.
"Just… admiring the handiwork," he smiled. He gave her a small pat on the shoulder before continuing with his tour.
It wasn't long before everyone had a placard on their desks, some more legible than others, and Ambrosius was pleased. The rest of the morning flew by in no time; going through rules and regulations, teaching how the timetables worked, talking about some upcoming events throughout the school year… Ambrosius could recite this song and dance in his sleep. It was obvious the students were getting antsy and bored by the time the bell rang, indicating a lunch break.
Once he had ushered the students into the lunch hall and taught them how to go about grabbing food on top of assuring no one was choking on anything, Ambrosius was finally able to crash into one of the rackety seats at the teachers' table.
"Rough morning?" asked one of his coworkers. Upon getting a nod from the man, she smiled pitifully.
"Your kids doing okay?" Ambrosius asked, hunching over his tray to start shovelling pasta down his throat.
"Little angels," she replied. "Can't believe this is the last year with them."
"Somehow eighth-graders and angels don't go together in my head," Ambrosius snorted. He did sort of envy her, though. As much as smaller kids were fun and exciting to work with, they were also a lot . Not that 13-year-olds weren't, but at least you could have a sort-of adult conversation with middle schoolers.
Todd arrived at the table and slammed his tray down in front of Ambrosius. "You alright?" he asked the brunet. Honestly, it was hard to tell when Todd was angry and when he was just neutral. His face always looked like that.
"One of my kids fucking wet himself an hour ago. So no," the other man replied grumpily, chugging half of the contents of his water glass. "God, I can't wait to go back to fifths next year."
"At least he didn't pee on you, right?" Ambrosius smirked. "Silver linings."
"What're you gonna do in the afternoon?" Todd changed the subject.
Ambrosius stretched, popping his spine. "I'm thinking I'm gonna have them do something family-related. Like… a portrait or whatever. And gotta send emails. Ugh."
"Ugh indeed," the woman joined back in on the conversation for a bit as she started to leave. "You two comin' to the get-together this Friday?"
"Hell yeah, dude," Todd said without hesitation. "As long as there's alcohol."
"Duh," she rolled her eyes with a smile before turning to Ambrosius. "What about you?"
"I… will get back to you on that," he replied with awkward finger guns.
Todd groaned loudly as she grabbed her lunch tray and left. "You have to come," he insisted.
"Why? You gonna miss me if I don't?"
"No! I just don't want you dead, man. This is the last party we're having 'till Christmas break."
Ambrosius busied himself with stuffing his face full of spaghetti so he wouldn't have to respond. Truth be told, despite how extroverted and fun-loving he presented himself as, he was not a party animal. The thought of meeting up with his co-workers to celebrate the start of the school year seemed nice in theory, but he knew it always devolved into drama, drunken shenanigans and bad blood. Especially with Todd around.
"Like I said. I'll get back to you," he finally said when the silence and Todd's intense stare started to get too awkward for him. "I'll probably be busy anyway. And so will you."
"I prefer not to think about work on weekends," Todd shrugged, starting to munch on an apple. "Privileges of being a teacher and all that."
"Just know that if I don't come, I promise I'll feel really bad about it," Ambrosius grimaced, earning a huffed laugh from the other man.
"How'd it go with that one kid, by the way?" the brunet asked, mouth full of apple.
Ambrosius resisted the urge to comment on bad manners and took the bait of a new conversation topic. "Well. It was just a technical error, nothing big."
"Must've scared her."
"She seemed alright, actually," Ambrosius chuckled. "Her dad was worse."
"Was half-expecting you to toss her in my class," Todd tilted his head. "Good thing you didn't. I would've beaten your ass."
"I would've been perfectly justified in handing her over to you, especially after you didn't keep your promise about watching my kids," Ambrosius said, brows furrowing.
"Relaaax, man," the brunet rolled his eyes. "They were fine, weren't they?"
"Yes, but …"
"Yes yes. Principles. Regulations." Todd wrapped his half-eaten apple into a napkin. "I'll get back to you on that once I care."
The rest of the school day flew by after Ambrosius had satiated his hunger and gotten the children to do the same. He did exactly as he'd said he would and made the students draw their families and maybe write about them if they knew how. He wasn't an art teacher, honestly knew nothing about art, which was probably a good thing in the context of children's crayon masterpieces. Meanwhile, he busied himself with answering emails and trying to prevent any future migraines by shopping for dimmer lights in his classroom.
"Now!" He got out of his chair once he realized they only had half an hour left in the school day. "Would anyone like to tell the class about their family? Any interesting jobs, cool pets?"
A few of the braver students raised their hands instantly, with some more timid ones following suit. He picked one of the children who immediately got up and started blabbering about how his father was a pilot. Ambrosius wasn't the type to purposefully pick out kids who were not raising their hands or – better yet – pretending they couldn't be seen from his angle. That was just cruel and did nothing to aid their anxiety.
After the boy, whose name had already slipped Ambrosius's mind, his eyes flickered over to Nimona for a second. She hadn't raised her hand, instead continuing to doodle on the piece of paper like her life depended on it. He left her to it after remembering Boldheart's words from the morning.
In no time, the bell rang to indicate the end of the day. There was a mixed reaction from the class as Ambrosius watched them leave while collecting the drawings from their desks – he was going to put them up somewhere or give them to the parents. Many parents had already arrived, but there were a few stragglers. One of those happened to be Nimona, still sitting at her desk drawing. "Can I have that, please?" Ambrosius asked, reaching for the paper.
"Oh," Nimona jolted, realizing she wasn't alone. "Yeah!" She handed the drawing over.
Ambrosius put on a pretend-studious face and observed the paper. Her drawing style was quite crude and childish, but then again she was a child. There were only two characters on the page, her and Ballister. Ambrosius noted that Nimona used his name rather than 'father', 'dad' or anything similar, which he thought was a bit odd, especially since they were clearly close.
"What's the consensus?" Nimona asked after a bit of silence.
"That's a big word," Ambrosius raised an eyebrow, tearing his eyes off of the drawing. "It's very good." He smiled.
"Did I use it right?"
"Yes you did." Ambrosius glanced at the wall clock. Fifteen past the time he'd told parents to pick up their kids. "Hey, do you know when your dad will be here?"
Nimona had started packing up her things, now crouched on the floor next to her backpack. "Probably never. I don't have a dad," she deadpanned, slipping her pencil case into the bag.
Ambrosius blinked. "Pardon?"
The child looked up at him, wiping her nose on her sleeve. "Y'mean Ballister then?"
"Um. Yes?"
"He should come soon. Maybe there's traffic," she shrugged, clearly not bothered.
"Wait, so," Ambrosius stopped her when she looked like she was going to turn around and leave, "if not your dad, who is Ballister? Your uncle? Brother?"
Nimona stared at him for a while, eyes big. "I dunno. He's… he's just Ballister."
Almost as on cue, the man in question rushed into the classroom, causing Ambrosius to jump. "I'm so sorry for being late," Ballister groaned, smoothing out his hair. "Traffic was crazy. Didn't calculate right. Hey, Nims," his complaining immediately stopped when she got close, grabbing his (real) hand.
"No problem. It happens," Ambrosius forced a pleasant smile despite still being a bit startled and, most of all, confused by the conversation he'd just had.
"Has everything been good? No mishaps?" Ballister asked, sort of from both of them.
"All good," Nimona nodded, tightening her grip on his hand. "Right, teach?"
Ambrosius chuckled. "Right. Nothing happened. Nothing bad, I mean. She's been nothing but a pleasure today."
Ballister let out a sigh he hadn't noticed to be holding. "That's good news," he smiled. Ambrosius was sort of enamored by the way it made his mustache move. "What'd you get up to today, huh?" That question was clearly directed at Nimona.
"Drew stuff," she shrugged before lighting up. "I drew you! Show him, Mr. Goldie!"
Ambrosius kept his mouth shut, but held up the picture from the top of the small pile in his hands. Nimona gestured to it wildly. Ballister squinted at the caricature. "Darn. Looks just like me," he said, causing Nimona to bounce around excitedly. "You really got my facial hair."
Ambrosius suppressed his laughter, comparing Ballister's face to the comically large mustache on his doodle counterpart. "Yeah, she clearly has talent," he nodded firmly.
Nimona puffed her chest out proudly as Ballister ruffled her unruly long locks. "Well, my little artist, how about we get going? Mr. Goldenloin's already working overtime for us."
"Oh, that part is unfortunately just beginning," Ambrosius said, smiling to hide the pain that was the realization he was probably going to be in the building for a hot minute. "Do you want to keep the drawing?"
"Yes, please," Ballister said, taking the paper from the other man. "This one's going on the fridge."
"It's already kinda full, Bal," Nimona kicked her toes on the laminated floor.
"There's room for one more," he assured her with a smile. "And then I'll buy us that corkboard I've been talking about for like half a year. Ready to go now?"
"I gotta pee," Nimona perked up at the question. Ambrosius was going to ask if she knew where the bathrooms were but she had already vanished into the hallway like a small red tornado. Silence fell between the two men. Ambrosius bit his lip, unsure of how to bring his question to the forefront without sounding rude.
Ballister was examining the drawing with a fond smile, seemingly oblivious to how nervous the teacher was. "She got my name right this time," Ballister commented, grinning. "Usually she forgets the other L."
"About that," Ambrosius clenched the pile of drawings in his hands to stop them from anxiously trembling. "I'm curious about your, uhh, relationship with Nimona? I asked her earlier and she said you're not her father or any other relative?"
Ballister's eyes widened a bit and he looked up from the paper. There was a slight twitch of his brow. Ambrosius couldn't read his expression; was he mad? Upset? Embarrassed? "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry. It's none of my business, really," Ambrosius opened his mouth again to fill the quiet air. Great, now he was babbling.
"Oh. No, you're fine!" Ballister awoke from his thoughts, quickly fixing his unreadable face with a slightly embarrassed smile. "She… Her and I aren't related. I took her in about a year ago. Started off as fostering but she's stuck around. I'm working on officially adopting her."
"I see," Ambrosius nodded along. "But… she doesn't call you dad?"
"I don't really see myself as one," Ballister scratched his chin. He looked almost confused himself, not sure how to put his thoughts into words. "I guess I haven't given it much thought. We're family, but… Not a parent and child? Sorry, this is weird."
Ambrosius shook his head, finally easing his grip on the papers now that it was clear Ballister wasn't mad at him. "Nothing of the sort," he said, offering him an encouraging smile. "Honestly, it's kind of an old habit to refer to every guardian and adult in kids' lives as their parents. There's all kinds of families. I shouldn't have assumed."
"You're fine. It is an unusual arrangement," Ballister sighed, allowing himself to smile back. "You're a good teacher for checking in. Who knows, I could've been some guy that snatched her from a street corner."
"I didn't think that," Ambrosius averted his gaze, feeling his face flush hot. He had thought of that. Well, just for a tiny moment. You never knew. Even the most innocent-looking people could have a dark side.
Nimona slipped back through the door, putting an end to their conversation. She took Ballister's hand, ushering him toward the exit. "See you tomorrow!" she exclaimed at her teacher, waving as she walked back out.
"Thanks again," Ballister said, not properly smiling at the other. "For the morning, I mean. And this," he waved the drawing still in his free hand. "See you."
"Bye-bye," Ambrosius gave them a wave before they stepped out and closed the door after them. He felt better now, worry immediately dispersing after the conversation. Ballister had an oddly soothing attribute to him that Ambrosius couldn't quite put his finger on – even if his thoughts kept floating back to the man all throughout his overtime.