Ryden Oneshots

Pink Glitter

The man, however, didn’t seem too perturbed by Ryan’s strange non sequitor.  “Craft time,” he explained.  “I was drawing a unicorn, and I couldn’t not decorate it with pink sparkles, now could I?”

“Um,” Ryan stuttered, wondering how he could possibly be struck dumb by a guy with twinkling pink glitter in his hair.  “I guess not.”

“Exactly,” the guy said, turning his head around, back into the room, as a rather large crash sounded from inside.  “Everyone okay in there?” he asked over his shoulder, turning back around to smile at Ryan when he heard a chorus of way too innocent yeses.  “So, back to the point, how can I help you?  I should probably be getting back to my class soon.”

“I’m here for that parent job thingy,” Ryan flustered.

The teacher tilted his head to the side, looking Ryan up in down in a way that Ryan thought was way too seductive for someone teaching his six year old sister.  “You don’t look old enough to have a kindergartener,” the man said, but bit his lip quickly after he said it.  “Oh God, unless you do.  Like a teenage father or something.  Oh fuck, I’m sorry.”  His eyes widened as the swear word left his mouth.  “Shit, I shouldn’t swear.”  He startled again.  “Oh, cock.”  The man shook his head in dejection.  “Now I really am hoping that your child isn’t in my class.”

Ryan laughed, calmed a little by the teacher’s obvious mortification.  “No, my sister,” Ryan explained.  “My father couldn’t make it, so he sent me.”

The teacher looked up, obviously relieved, and that bright smile was back.  “Thank God,” he breathed.  “But the job presentations aren’t for another hour.”

Internally, Ryan cursed his father.  He knew he should have checked.  His father never got the times right for anything.  Ryan shifted a little on his feet.  “Well, I guess I could just wait in the car or something.  Maybe get some coffee and come back in an hour.”

“Or you could come in and hang out,” the teacher suggested.  “I’m about to read the class a story, and I could always use help doing voices.”

“Sure, I guess,” Ryan agreed after the teacher gave him a wide-eyed, pleading look.  Even though the thought of spending extra time with kindergarteners made him a little nervous, he couldn’t say no.

“Great.  By the way, my name is Brendon,” the teacher said, sticking his hand out and shaking Ryan’s.

“Ryan,” he replied, and he was trying really hard to not read into the way that Brendon’s hand seemed to linger and trace along his fingers as the handshake ended.  “Ryan Ross.”

Brendon’s grin grew.  “You’re Nicole’s brother?  I just love her.”  He held a finger up to his mouth, eyes shifting around furtively.  “She’s one of my favorites,” he whispered.

“I’m sure,” Ryan laughed, and it caught in his throat as Brendon reached out and pulled him into the classroom by his wrist just as another loud crash sounded.

“Sorry,” he apologized as Ryan rubbed his wrist.  “They just seem to get a little rowdy when I’m not watching.”

A little rowdy seemed to be an understatement.  The room was messy.  Really messy, in fact.  At what Ryan assumed to be the art station, there was a large pile of the same pink glitter that was still twinkling in Brendon’s hair.  There was a trail of dress-up clothes strewn around a very fussy looking boy, and judging by the smudges of chocolate, it seemed like the kids had managed to get into the snack drawer.

Next to him, Ryan heard Brendon curse under his breath.  He turned to Ryan, and gave an apologetic smile.  “It’s sort of my first year,” he admitted.