Chapter Text
Az settled into his armchair. He was out of his formal clothes and wrapped in cozy tartan flannel pyjamas and a housecoat. Reaching up, he began to play with his short, white-blonde curly hair. Now that he was home he could muss about with his curls and scratch his scalp without a worry for how wild his hair might look as a result. He leaned back with a happy groan. Cup of cocoa and an unwieldy stack of books on the side table next to him. Who could ask for more?
He’d been more than happy to detour to the larger branch of the library on his way home from work. With the help of the catalogue first and an obliging young librarian second, he’d amassed quite a selection of books to bring home. He was glad he’d had help – while the catalogue had yielded some excellent tomes on the subject of the queer community, his librarian – a young thing with green hair, a septum piercing, an enamel pin labelled they/them – had suggested several novels, essays and websites that he might find enlightening as well.
Az gazed about his home with a sigh of contentment. Everything was in order, which was to say everything was in disorder; his home was full to bursting with things – books, antiques, treasured objects. Someone else might say it was cluttered, messy, or even disgraceful. But he flicked that harsh voice in his head away. His home was just as he liked it and no one ever moved any of his things.
Yes, that was because no one was ever in his home. Yes, he had imagined a different life for himself when he was younger – a wife, children, all of it. He had pictured a home warm and bursting at the seams with joy, laughter, and love. All the things his childhood home had not been. But, well, life doesn’t always go the way you think it will. You can’t have all your dreams come true, after all. Yet here he was, in his fifties, and quite content. He was. He was. If he couldn’t conjure a perfect love or children in tow, well, he could at least create a cozy home in his vision. He had his work, and his students to care for. That was enough and so much more than so many had.
As the evening passed, Az’s cocoa emptied, and the stack of books dwindled. He read swiftly, with the efficiency of practice and one who has always hungered to read more, more, more. The words on the pages were fascinating. He felt his heart pounding at times – that so many dared to live their lives in ways that had always been frowned upon, that would never have been allowed in his home. He wept for the bravery of Stonewall Riots and transwomen Marsha P Johnson and Sylvia Rivera. He gasped at the salacious details of bathhouses – that such things existed! – and the Bathhouse Raids of Toronto. It was easier to read about how far away places had flung off the yoke of oppression than it was to read about his own country and the history of Section 28.
Of course he knew of Section 28; it was already in effect when he began teaching in the nineties and, even when it was repealed in 2003, it hadn’t changed his curriculum in any significant way. He continued to teach the classics as he always had. Section 28 or no, when he was teaching Wilde there was no need to go into the details of his personal life, for goodness sake. It was enough just to read the work at hand.
But reading this stack of books tonight, he began to glimpse another world that had been lingering under the surface. One he had been almost willingly blind to. He felt his hands tingling, his mind racing. It was like the whole world was changing in an evening. He didn’t know how to process it.
He reached for his cup of cocoa and was devastated to find it empty. His eyes flicked towards his kitchen. He could make more. But the next book, so far untouched, caught his attention first. Just a bit more reading, then.
***
“Oh my goodness Mr – I mean – Crowley, the things I read last night!”
Az and Crowley were each sitting on one of a pair of well-used sofas in the oak-panelled staff room, cups of tea steaming on the coffee table between them.
Az couldn’t tamp down the excitement bubbling out of him. Crowley, meanwhile, was stretched out, his gangly legs taking up altogether too much space. His sunglasses were in place, and a small smile curled his lips. He reached for his mug and blew the steam away while Az prattled on.
“Did you know that nonbinary is an umbrella term for a rich tapestry of identities? Oh, it’s so interesting what these young people think up! Much like the ace – that is to say, asexual – umbrella. It’s not just what you think, you know – androgynous people or people who are sex-repulsed, respectively – but there’s so much more to it. It’s just fascinating.”
Crowley had allowed himself a scalding sip, hissed at the results, and placed his mug back down.
“Did you learn all this just last night?” he asked, his tone gently mocking but not unkind.
Az twisted the ring on his pinky finger absentmindedly, wanting to reach for his own tea but taking the hint from Crowley’s experience and waiting a moment longer.
“Well I suppose I just never…. Thought about it much, came across it much. Oh, I read plenty but I generally stick to the classics.”
“There have been gay people since the dawn of time, surely” Crowley countered, still with that gently mocking tone, now with one brow raised jauntily. Az swallowed, his cheeks colouring.
“Yes I know,” he whispered, as some coworkers dabbled a bit too close to their conversation for his liking, “but there’s a whole… a whole culture around it. I’m sure the cultures around these communities have shifted with each generation. And it’s our duty to learn the culture of this generation, so that we can help the pupils.”
“Learn the culture,” Crowley repeated, deadpan, suspicious.
“Yes, once I started to think of it that way, the world really opened up for me,” Az enthused, now feeling too excited once again to be cautious with his words or his volume. “It’s just like visiting another country – you must learn the lingo, the customs. For example, it’s customary when introducing yourself to state your pronouns, and best not to assume someone else’s if you can help it. It’s also best not to assume the gender of someone’s partner if you can help, or assume that they are monogamous. Any of these missteps is called “being heteronormative”.”
Az looked at his fingers held in ‘air quotes’ and put them down hastily.
“Maybe you’re up on all this, of course,” Az continued hastily. “But this is all new for me.”
Crowley nodded in a way that neither confirmed nor denied his previous knowledge. Az felt a sense of unease at the question he wanted to ask next. Perhaps it was none of his business. Perhaps the best thing to do would be just to answer the question himself and let Crowley provide his own response, or not. Yes, that was would work.
“You see, while I’m a bachelor and people sometimes assume certain things about me, I’m actually straight. I have no prior knowledge of this world. So I have much to learn.” Az let the silence hang between them. Crowley seemed to regard him for a moment, and then cleared his throat.
“Me too, me too,” he murmured in that smooth voice of his. “Bachelor. Folks sometimes assume things about me because,” here he gestured at his overall appearance, “and yeah I’m an ally, I’m not a twat, but I’m straight too. So none of this is new to me or anything – just the words the kids use have changed. Hell, the world has changed.”
Az nodded, taking his tea and finding he had fortuitously caught it at the perfect point between scalding and disappointingly cold. He took a sip to give Crowley time to expand if he liked.
“I lived through the dark years in the eighties and nineties, and lost a lot of friends back then. I let people assume I was gay so arseholes would pick a fight with me instead of my friends. I could always hold my own.”
Az tried to imagine exactly how a beanpole like this would “hold his own” in a pub fight, but he supposed Crowley must be scrappy.
“That’s lovely, Crowley,” Az smiled. “I am not surprised to hear that you stood up for your friends, just as you stood up for the pupils at this school yesterday.”
Crowley looked altogether uncomfortable at this compliment and so Az changed gears.
“So, let’s talk logistics. I’ve done some research into rooms, and…”
***
It was the end of the first open hours on Az’s own GSA club. He had been thinking of it as his – his and Crowley’s. But from the first moments they had announced it to the students, he realized it wasn’t his at all, it was theirs.
The students know about GSA clubs. Had heard about them. Had thought it was well overdue for this to come to their school. And it turned out they were more than ready to take the helm, they just needed the space to do it.
“I think the first thing we need to do is decide what kind of GSA we are going to be,” a nonbinary child, apparently by the name of Pepper, announced to the room at large during the first office hours. “Will we be focused on socializing, providing support, or activism? I think we should elect a student leadership board to help us decide.”
And then they distributed pamphlets to the room. Az took one, utterly perplexed. He had bought some snacks and put on some light music for this first session. He and Crowley had decided that was more than enough.
“These are from GSAnetwork.org,” Pepper explained as they handed out sheets to Crowley and Az, whose mouths were agape. “Only reputable sources, don’t worry.”
“What is… happening?” Crowley whispered to Az.
“Just go with it,” Az smiled, a grin beginning to light his face. He loved to see the children passionate and taking charge.
In that meeting, Pepper appeared to have met their match when a young man marched in and walked right up to them, and put out his hand. “Name’s Adam, super gay,” he said by way of introducing himself.
“Pepper, pronouns they/them, pansexual enby,” Pepper replied, overtly sizing Adam up, their gaze raking down and up.
So Crowley and Az had just stayed in the background, and watched as Pepper and Adam ran the show, talking passionately about their dreams of activism. Az was heartened to see they were kind as well – a quite scared young man called Brian was lurking in the shadows but Pepper and Adam made a point of bringing him into the circle. A number of students filtered through the room, at least twenty over the course of an hour in Az’s estimation, and the mood was always pleasant, warm, and buzzing with excitement.
Az was sad to shoo them away when it was time to tidy and lock up but buzzing with his own excitement to discuss everything that had happened with Crowley, away from prying ears.
“Oh, Crowley, wasn’t that wonderful?” Az exclaimed the moment the urchins were away.
Crowley allowed a smile to crease his face. Such a rare sighting in his brief acquaintance with Mr Crowley that it made Az blush a little.
“Yeah, it was, but look – I’m absolutely famished. Could we grab a bite while we hash it out?”
Az hesitated for a fraction of a second – he couldn’t remember the last time someone had invited him out to eat after work. Usually he would say no, he was so eager to get home and decompress by himself after a long day. And yet it didn’t feel like a burden when Crowley suggested it. He felt his midsection rumbling at the mere suggestion.
“Oh, yes, that would be lovely!” he smiled.
***
“Wasn’t it just, wasn’t it just – refreshing?” Az asked. Crowley had made the barest suggestion that perhaps they should share a bottle of red and who was Az to refuse him. But the first few sips had already made him giddy. “I mean the way they speak to each other – so frank! So direct! My goodness, what I wouldn’t have given for that type of honesty when I was young, instead of all this beating around the bush. I always missed the subtext and was left feeling clueless.”
“You enjoyed your visit to the foreign land,” Crowley said, saluting him with his wine glass. “You found their customs charming.”
“Oh, I did! Didn’t you? And the kids really did seem to need the space. Oh, I think we’re doing some good, Crowley, I really do.”
Crowley let his mouth slide into another one of his shy smiles. Az could get used to seeing those.
“I did like ‘em,” he admitted. “I always related better to the weirdos and the outcasts.”
“Yes, most of those kids seemed much cooler than me, I can’t imagine fitting in with that crowd when I was in secondary school,” Az mused.
“Don’t sell yourself short!” Crowley protested. “Standing up and shouting at a staff meeting? You are turning into the prototype of the bad boy himself.”
“I don’t know,” Az said, his voice rich with mischief, “I think the bad boy is typically lurking in the back of the room. Preferably with sunglasses on.”
Crowley groaned. “The sunglasses again! I’m photosensitive, if you must know! I don’t know how all you lot walk around in the gleaming brightness. Like walking on the surface of the bloody sun.”
Az let the corners of his mouth droop down into a pout. “Sorry, Crowley. I didn’t mean to pry, really.” Crowley grunted and waved him off. Az felt bold enough to continue, “But you know… not terribly bright in a restaurant like this, wouldn’t you say?”
Crowley reached up and pulled down his shades. It was startling, to be able to see his eyes after the wall between them for so long. He waited a moment and nodded, folding them on the table.
“Hmm, okay fair enough. Do they really bother you?”
“No of course not, my dear,” Az was quick to say. “I’m just pulling your leg. All in the spirit of fun, of course.”
“Hmph,” Crowley replied.
***
The days passed pleasantly after that. Az could not remember a time when he had so looked forward to going to work. He certainly could not recall another extracurricular he enjoyed sponsoring so well. He could remember failed forays into helping with the school play (teens really shouldn’t be trusted with Hamlet) or even his very poorly attended ‘Classical Music Appreciation Society’. But the Gay Straight Alliance was like a breath of fresh air – the students were excited, engaged and organizing events largely on their own. All he had to do was help here and there, and get out of their way.
That left plenty of time for him to build on his new friendship with Crowley. It was clear to him that they were friends now. Not that either man admitted it outright, of course. Az had very little experience with male friendship on the whole – he tended to make friends more easily with women even if he found it very hard to date women. He had always supposed the right woman would come along offering both friendship and passion but this mysterious woman had never materialized. But in any case, while he was new to male friendship for the most part, he suspected it involved a lot of not talking about his feelings so he was careful not to articulate how much he enjoyed this newfound companionship.
Crowley seemed to be enjoying it, too. As the weeks went by, he let his guard slip bit by bit and Az came to see he was nearly as clueless as Az when it came to the queer community and the current lexicon. He was just as giddy and excited as Az when they came across new words, or when they learned new in-jokes. (Both men were known to say words like “Slay!” or “Spill the tea!” in earshot of the kids who found this deeply embarrassing, or “cringe”. They claimed they didn’t speak like that at all. Az would point out that who did he learn it from if not them? They never had an answer to that one.)
“I can see why you had so many gay friends as a young man,” Az said to Crowley one night over drinks. They were a few rounds deep and getting a little silly, seated at the bar of a pub not far from the school debriefing the latest shenanigans with the GSA. Pepper had been particularly spirited in challenging Adam’s authority as group president that night. Az worried there might be a rift, but Crowley thought it was all just typical teen dynamics, vying for power.
Az found himself wishing he’d had friends like that when he was younger. Perhaps he would have been less lonely all these years.
His attention was drawn away by an old man of gray hair stumbling into the pub. He seemed to be rambling to no one in particular and, of course, with a bar full of empty stools elected to plonk down next to Crowley. Az shook his head to clear it and recalled his line of thought.
“Even with all the fighting,” Az continued, “they seem like they have more fun. Maybe it’s something about being openly gay or queer or whatever, but they seem so authentically themselves.”
“Pepper doesn’t pull many punches, that’s for sure,” Crowley smiled in wry agreement.
“Do you still have many friends in the queer community?” Az asked. “I find myself wondering what the adult version of this type of group would be like.”
Crowley took a long pull on his whiskey. “Middle aged friendships aren’t the same as teen friendships,” he said, his voice curt. Az frowned at the tone change.
“No, I suppose not,” Az began, hoping to clarify whatever point had offended Crowley. “I only mean… I wonder if I would enjoy this type of cultural exchange with the gay community of people our age, since I’ve enjoyed it so much with the teens.”
Crowley opened his mouth to reply but he was cut off by a wheezing cough and a new voice joining the conversation from behind him.
“Cultural exchange with the gay community?”
The voice that cut through was heavily accented – something like Scottish but not clearly identifiable. Crowley turned from Az to face the man next to him. He seemed to be drinking some variety of hard liquor in one glass and – milk, was it? – in his other glass.
“Yes, you see we’re teachers at a school and we supervise a Gay Straight Alliance…” Az began. The man waved him off, wanting to cut in.
“But you’re straight yourselves?” the man asked. Az nodded. The man went on, “Well, if ye lads wanted to try on the gay lifestyle, have ye ever heard of a gaycation?”