Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/312541.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Buffy_the_Vampire_Slayer, Angel:_the_Series
  Relationship:
      Allen_Francis_Doyle/Rupert_Giles
  Character:
      Xander_Harris
  Additional Tags:
      Crush, Unrequited_Love, Voyeurism
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-01-04 Words: 1402
****** In The Same League ******
by gala_apples
Summary
     Xander really likes his English teacher, Mr Doyle. Unfortunately he's
     not the only one.
He had hoped this wouldn't happen. Of course, in any Harris life whatever
couldn't happen did. It was why his dad was a drunken jerk; he had originally
wanted to be a good father. So when Xander had hoped that none of his teachers
would be hot, he instinctively knew that he was screwed, and they would be
Claudia Schiffer look-alikes.
Wasn't it the source of a million movie subplots; the dorky teen falling in
love with the handsome older man? Though he wasn't so sure about the love bit,
he just knew the man was sexy. Which of course was another movie subplot, the
high school student and their coming out process.
The teacher in question was for tenth grade English. A core class, with no
possible way to get out, unless he wanted to drop out of school altogether and
become a worker in his uncle's 'completely legit car part removal' shop. Yeah,
fuck that. Besides the grim future and the epic amount of Willow nagging if he
did quit, he also wouldn't get to see the man every day.
It was almost as if Flutie knew this new teacher would be the source of wet
girls and hard boys, and put them all into the same class. Maybe it was just
Xander's paranoia, but when he managed to rip his eyes away from the
Shakespeare spouting man and glance around the classroom, they were all staring
just as intently. That was one thing they didn't mention in teacher-seducing
films, what to do if everyone else felt the same. It wasn't as if Xander was
anything special. He didn't have any extra oomph to make the man take him to
bed.
Not that he knew exactly what would happen if he did end up in bed with Mr
Doyle. It was difficult enough to locate porn, most of which was magazines with
wrinkled pages loaned by Jesse. Gay porn was even less likely. He was a
teenager in public high school so he knew the basics; condoms or AIDS, and it
was perfectly natural and if anyone has any questions you can write them on a
piece of paper and leave them on my desk, and I'll answer them the next day.
Which really? Wasn't so much an option. Teachers got to know the handwriting of
their students. Even if he had a sneaky way of depositing the note, the Xander
Harris scrawl was legendary.
His eyes were grey. Of course that wasn't the first thing Xander noticed, he
wasn't a soppy romantic female. Mr Doyle also had a very nice ass. But when he
did drift off for a minute to imagine things that involved the complete
inability to stand and answer a problem on the board if asked, it usually
involved the man's eyes. They would be lying on the bed together, vaguely his
bed as it has plaid flannel sheets, and Mr Doyle would be on top of him. Their
stomachs and dicks would press together and Mr Doyle would look him straight in
the eye...
And it didn't really get much more detailed than that. Again, no good reference
material. Unless he asked Jesse to find specific magazines, or asked Willow for
a website. Neither of which were options, though it fluctuated on which was
less of an option from say to day.
The problem with having an English teacher that you actually wanted to impress
was that it meant you felt pressed to read. Xander wasn't much of a reader.
Jack Kerouac, that's different. That writer, he was real, and Xander could read
him for ages. But Jane Eyre, To Kill a Mockingbird, fucking Of Mice and Men?
Xander really didn't think he could handle those without bursting into
spontaneous vomiting.
God knew he couldn't ask Willow for recommendations. She would get her hopes up
and expect him to read until the day he died, strictly opposite of his plan to
read until the semester was finished. Jesse's recommendations would mostly
involve the articles in Hustler. Interesting, but off topic. Really the only
option was to ask the new librarian. Rumour had it that he was British, and
stalking one of the new girls. Personally, Xander didn't care if the old man
had a fetish for young blond girls from Los Angeles. He just needed a book that
he could actually read and talk about with Mr Doyle. If he was able to pull off
some literary insight, maybe the man would smile at him. And that could only be
of the good, with an added bonus of putting more realism into his fantasies.
He was smarter than to go to the library at lunch. An outcast he was, but even
outcasts knew better than to enter the most pathetic part of the school. Even
the robotics club would laugh at him if they saw. So he chewed his apple,
shifting and jiggling his knee, jolting Jesse off his perch on the back of the
couch and onto the floor more than once. No one commented. Nervous reflexes
were all a part of the Xander Harris package.
At three thirty he went directly to the library, and tried to work up the
courage to set in motion the plan that ended in him having crazy monkey sex
with the hottest teacher in the school. Once he actually made it to the door
and had his hand out to swing the door before backing away to a safe distance.
Time was quickly ticking away, and his feet were getting sweaty and
uncomfortable in no-brand sneakers, but he couldn't force himself to go in.
Maybe he would wait until the librarian came out to leave for the night. Meet
on neutral territory, so to speak.
Around quarter to five Mr Doyle himself walked past. Xander's completely broken
inner censor laughed when the teacher tried to start a conversation, and it
nearly pissed itself as he tried to respond back to Mr Doyle. Eventually the
man seemed to realise the futility of prompting a babbling teenager and bid him
goodbye. He didn't continue for the staff parking lot. Instead he went into the
library.
It was like a sign from god. If Xander wanted to have thrusty, staring into
grey eyes sex with Mr Doyle, he had to go into the library. Mr Doyle was
probably having a conversation about Dante's Inferno, and other novels he'd
heard Willow talk to her parents about over an early supper, as he stood there.
Xander wanted to talk about it too, regardless of the fact that he had no idea
what the book was about.
Still, it took a moment for his dick to confer with his brain and prove that
going inside was a good idea, and a bit longer for his brain to convince his
feet that it was time to move. He wondered for a second if Jesse or Willow ever
had to have this kind of conversation with their body, then decided it didn't
matter as it was the sort of topic he'd never bring up in a million years.
Xander pressed his hand against the door and with a sigh opened it. He was
going to get a book, and he was going to be a man.
Mr Doyle was pressed against the circulation desk. His jeans seemed to be
pooled around his ankles but it was hard to tell because of the body standing
in front of him. The other body was another man, and his grey pants are
gathered halfway down his thighs. Xander assumed this was the librarian, but
even if he had met the man before, he wouldn't know him by the shape of his
ass. Which considering the age of the man, was a fairly good showing of ass. No
droop, and no hair. Pale, but who'd expect a middle-aged man to tan nude?
The librarian was pounding into Mr Doyle, and it suddenly sunk in that this was
what men did with each other. They fucked, and Xander'd always used it as a
swear but never really understood the meaning. He was suddenly hard as hell. He
backed up until the swinging door opened itself from the force of his back. He
might, hell, would go home and jerk off a dozen times, but he couldn't stay. He
knews he wasn't in the same league. He didn't deserve to stay.
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