#shipathon17

Flynn Carsen hated James Moriarty. It was a true and simple fact like the Earth orbits the Sun or King Henry VIII died on January 28, 1547 of what was probably untreated type II diabetes. These were things that Flynn knew. These were things that drove his life. So, really, it shouldn’t have come to too much of a surprise when James Moriarty was moved into the room across from his because life hated him.

The school had decided to do some remodeling, but because of said remodeling, a section of the ceiling had caved in. The principal, distraught and stressed, had had to do weeks of moving around teachers and settling them into their temporary rooms. Flynn, who’d been working at the school for nearly ten years now, had no fears of being moved; his room was his. But apparently Ms. Faire, the teacher across the hall from him, did not have as great luck.

Flynn, encumbered with papers and with his satchel attempting to slip off his shoulder, stopped in the middle of the hallway, utterly surprised, when he noticed James Moriarty carrying a box of his belongings and fumbling with his keys to open the door to the classroom that laid across the hall from Flynn’s.

“Uh, your room’s down the hall,” Flynn quickly said, catching a paper as it tried to flutter away from him.

Moriarty looked up from his keys and scowled. It was a well-known fact that James Moriarty hated Flynn Carsen too. “I got moved, actually. This is my room now.”

Flynn frowned. “You’re kidding me.”

Moriarty shrugged and turned back to his keys. “I was told they want to keep teachers with like-subjects closer to each other now.”

Flynn could have scoffed at that. James Moriarty taught English; Flynn taught English History. They were completely different subjects! He was absolutely appalled.

“Well, that’s ridiculous,” Flynn remarked.

Moriarty finally managed to get his door open and swung it out.  He glanced over his shoulder, appraised Flynn slowly, and let his scowl get deeper. “Yes; I’m quite aware.”

With that, he stepped into his classroom and let the door swing shut behind him. Flynn frowned after him and told himself he’d speak with the principal by the end of the day.

~~~

“There’s nothing I can do, Flynn.”

“What?!” Flynn squawked. “That’s ridiculous! You’re the one who did it, so just…undo it!”

Eve Baird let out a long, frustrated sigh. She looked ten seconds from decking Flynn, but instead restrained herself and set her hands in her lap. “Flynn, I can’t just undo it. We’ve finally got a setup that will actually work. I’m not undoing it. You’ll just have to get used to being Mr. Moriarty’s neighbor.”

Flynn scowled. “No. I refuse.”

“Stop being a child, Mr. Carsen, and suck it up,” Eve said, and her tone held no room for argument. “Am I understood?”

“Baird, just see it how I see it-.”

“Good, you’re dismissed, Mr. Carsen,” Eve said pointedly, nodding towards the door.

Flynn sighed, deemed it a lost cause, and left the room grumbling under his breath.

~~~

Flynn still wasn’t entirely sure when this rivalry between him and Moriarty had started. In Moriarty’s first year of working at the school, they’d even been quite amiable. Then discussions about certain authors turned into debates and then debates had turned into arguments. If he really had to pin a date on it, he guessed it would’ve been the day that Moriarty called Shakespeare a dilettante and a thief. Since that day, the two had never gotten along and avoided each other like the plague.

The rest of the teachers just ignored them and rolled their eyes when one would walk in the room and the other would immediately get upset. By now, they were used to the two and their petty anger and didn’t bother trying to fix it.

One teacher in particular was entirely unsympathetic to Flynn’s plight. This teacher, unfortunately, happened to be Flynn’s best friend and one of the few people who could endure him at all times.

“I just don’t see what your deal with him is,” Jacob Stone, history teacher, said the next day over his cup of coffee. “I mean, he’s a pretty cool dude. Did you know he owns, like, half of a museum downtown? Hell, you’ve probably been there before, man.”

Flynn rolled his eyes, something he was generally not prone to do. This whole situation was putting him out of whack. “Yes, I’ve been there.”

“And?” Jacob said with a small, sly grin on his face.

Flynn huffed in frustration. “It’s beautiful! And I don’t see why someone like him gets to have any part in it.”

“Probably because he funded it,” Jacob said, shrugging at Flynn’s unimpressed face. “Look, Flynn, all I’m sayin’ is that the dude’s a good dude. Maybe if you two would stop pulling each other’s pigtails for five seconds, you’d see that you could actually get along really well.”

Flynn’s nose scrunched up. “Pulling each other’s pigtails? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jacob smirked. “C’mon, man, don’t play dumb. You know exactly what that means. The entire staff is taking bets. Pretty sure Baird is in the lead.”

“What?! I don’t-! No, that’s-! Why would you-?!” Flynn spluttered, cheeks burning hot in embarrassment.

Jacob’s smirk only got smugger. “Uh-huh, sure, Flynn. Just keep tellin’ yourself that.”

He got up from his seat and grabbed his mug. As he was about to walk away, Flynn snapped, “I could never like someone who thinks Shakespeare didn’t write his own plays!”

Jacob laughed loudly at that and shrugged at Flynn, glancing over his shoulder to say, “You get along with me just fine.”

“You’re joking, right?!” Flynn shouted after him, but his only response was an even louder laugh.

~~~

The worst part of Jacob pointing out to Flynn that he and Moriarty could get along was realizing that it actually might be true. Other than their severely different views on Shakespeare, Flynn was pretty sure they agreed on most other things. From what he remembered from their brief time as friends, he and Moriarty got along super well. Actually, he wasn’t sure why one, simple argument could’ve pushed them so far apart.

He was mulling it over after school as he sat at his desk and prepared his papers for the next day; it was taking longer than usual because he was so lost in his own thoughts. He was about to shove some papers he needed to grade into his satchel when his door was opened.

And, honestly, with how this week had been going, he shouldn’t have been at all surprised to find Moriarty. The English teacher looked awkward, nervously fidgeting in place as he cleared his throat. “Uh, hello, Mr. Carsen. Do you have a moment?”

Flynn couldn’t help the way his cheeks flushed and goddammit Jake. He nodded quickly – way too quickly – and said, “Uh, yes, yeah, of course. Is everything okay?”

If Moriarty was confused by Flynn’s questioning of his wellbeing, he didn’t show it. Instead, he shook his head and said, “Look, I know this is difficult for you. It’s not easy on me either. We don’t exactly…get along, but I was hoping that, at least for the rest of the year, we could hold a…civil relationship?”

“Oh, yeah, definitely, absolutely,” Flynn said, words tumbling out of his mouth without his consent. “And, I mean, hey, maybe all this silly rivalry was, well, exactly that – silly. Maybe we should just put it all behind us, you know?”

That was when Moriarty frowned at him. “What? You’re saying that after nearly five years of arguments and glares you just want to…let it go?”

“Why not?” Flynn said with a tight grin. Why did he do this? Why did he let Jacob Stone get him into the flustered mess that he was now?

Moriarty’s frown got deeper. “What’s gotten into you?”

Flynn huffed out a short breath. Well, honesty was the best policy and all that. “Jacob got into my head about…some stuff.”

One of Moriarty’s eyebrows raised. “Did he manage to change your incorrect opinion on Shakespeare?”

“No,” Flynn growled, ignoring the teasing look that flashed through Moriarty’s eyes. Flynn cleared his throat, unable to help the flush that spread up from his neck as he said, “He brought to light some…other things. About the rest of the staff and…us.”

“Oh, you mean their betting pool?” Moriarty said with a slight roll of his eyes.

Flynn’s eyes widened. “You knew about it?!”

Moriarty grinned. “You didn’t?” Flynn guessed that the look on his face perfectly conveyed, that, no, he didn’t because Moriarty continued with, “If it makes you feel any better, it’s only been going on for about a year. Ms. Cillian, the physics teacher – you know her, don’t you? – is apparently the one who brought our apparent chemistry to light. Mr. Jones decided to create the infamous bet.”

Flynn huffed another breath of annoyance. “You can sever trust a Social Sciences teacher.” He frowned. “Is it true that Eve’s in the lead?”

Moriarty smirked. “Why do you think she put me in the room across from yours? Apparently, she plays dirty.”

“Not surprising,” Flynn murmured. His face still felt like it was on fire, and he tugged at his collar and said, “Well that’s all…very awkward.”

“To be fair,” Moriarty said, “I thought you knew. Otherwise I might have told you about it.”

“That would’ve been more awkward,” Flynn quickly decided on. He frowned and met Moriarty’s eyes. “So…what are we supposed to do about all of this?”

Moriarty’s smirk returned. “Well, I don’t suppose that we’re going to get together on the spot and shag in a janitor’s closet.” That had Flynn blushing, but he tried his best to ignore it. In a calmer voice, Moriarty said, “I suppose we can just…get over our petty differences and try to get along…for the time being.”

“Yes, yeah,” Flynn started nodding erratically, “that sounds like a great idea.”

“Yes, well, thank you…Flynn,” Moriarty said.

“I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow…James,” Flynn said back. Moriarty – no, James – gave him a polite nod and smile before he backed out of the room.

Flynn was officially on a first-name basis with James Moriarty.

Well, things could certainly be worse.

(A few months later they were found kissing in Moriarty’s room.