Ross MacDonald Imagines

History

Word Count: 2,858
Warnings: Man oh man, what smut.
Summary: Ross is your history professor, and one day he calls you into his office hours to discuss a serious matter concerning your grades. Fate has a funny way of leading innocent situations elsewhere, though.

History had always been your least favorite subject.

You really did try hard to make good grades. Ask any of your friends, and they would all say that you would sacrifice anything, be it going out or relaxing by the TV, to help your grades. You were just that kind of person - it was ingrained into your mind to try hard and do well. If anyone looked to your history grades, they would not know this however. History simply was your weakness. You could not for the life of you grasp how to tackle the class. Everyone said in their advice to 'just remember the dates, it's not that hard', and yet you would do that and come up with Cs and Ds every time. It always had been that way for you, even stemming down to your elementary school years. History and you just had not figured out yet how to mix.

It was an unfortunate fact though, considering you needed two history courses before you could graduate. You nearly flunked your first course. Your professor tried to help you, your TA tried to help you - hell, even your classmates tried to help you. You simply could not get it. It was a blessing you even passed to be able to move on to the second one. You chalked that one up to the slightly forgiving grading system the professor had in place. A 68.5 was hardly a C to you, but it was just enough for your professor, and that was fine by you. Cs get degrees, the saying went.

You had planned to try harder this new semester, you really did. You had bought all of the materials you needed to give you extra support, and even planned around study sessions so that you could be truly prepared for the exams. But, what you had not planned on was your professor.

Professor MacDonald. His name was a trick, making him sound hardly special or unique. The thing was, he was both of those things and more. The man was a born teacher. The records said he was only twenty-eight years old, a mere six more than you, and yet he knew more about history than some of the older professors in the same department. He made the subject interesting, which was a huge feat to someone like you. He was so passionate and intelligent - you could listen to him talk for years about anything. Hell, you would quit school even while this close to graduating if he asked. He was that amazing.

As amazing as he was though, he could not get your grades up. At first you thought it was because you were not trying hard enough, like always. In any other case, it would be the reason. But as you went on, you realized that this time, it wasn't your lack of proper studying that was getting you. As if the world had placed a curse on you, you realized that Professor MacDonald was the problem. Rather, the fact that you stared at him more than what he wrote and projected on the board was the problem. It wasn't completely your fault, though. He was growing out his beard and wearing jean jackets, and something about the combination made it incredibly hard to look away. That, you decided, was all on him.

You stayed in this weird limbo of torture courtesy of his attractiveness and your bad grades until one day, after class, you found yourself tapped on the shoulder. It was harmless, but it sent thrills through you as you turned and met eyes with him. Of course it was Professor MacDonald. Why wouldn't the universe torture you more? Giving him your best non-nervous smile you could muster, you tried to contain yourself.

"Yes, sir?"

"I think you and I need to discuss something," he said, and oh god did his voice sound deep and lovely when trying to be discrete. You bit your lip to hide your emotion.

"Is something wrong?"

Sighing, he looked around. Once he was sure no one was looking, he leaned in a bit closer. You could feel his breath on you, and it was electrifying. "Not exactly. Just...see me at my office hours today. Alright?"