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the_water_clockAuthor: Clio
Title: Goodbye, Mr. Seacrest, or, To Simon, with Love: Rymon Missing Scenes from the Fast Times at Idol High 80s AU
Pairing: American Idol: Ryan Seacrest/Simon Cowell
Rating: PG
Summary: The story behind the dozens of Valentine's Day carnations given to Mr. Seacrest, and the even more mysterious one given to Mr. Cowell.
Length: 1100 words
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, clearly, as Ryan isn't crafty enough to make poodles out of carnations.
Notes: Fast Times at Idol High,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lillijulianne's 80s high school AU, can be read by friending stepintomyocean.
Special thanks to Juli for writing this awesome AU, letting me be a part of it, encouraging me get my teacher kink on, and of course being an amazing beta. Oh, and for writing Ryan and Simon into her story in the first place.
Prologue: September 1981 | 1: September 1984 | 2: October 1984 | 3: November 1984 | 4: December 1984 | 5: January 1985
february 1985
Whenever students comment on the annual avalanche of pink and red carnations on Mr. Seacrest's desk, he always replies, "It wasn't like this when I was your age."
Which is true. Ryan usually got three or four white carnations from female friends, to whom he always sent one in return. (That really should have been a clue right there, that so many of his close friends were girls.) Sometimes there was an anonymous pink. And that was it; pretty average, really.
Now, of course, it's absurd. He'd thought it would taper off once he wasn't the young new teacher anymore, but it shows no signs of stopping whatsoever. After the first year he called his mother and asked her what to do with them. Typically she responded with crafts, so the poodles were born. He builds them during his study halls or when the students are reading quietly, and they sit around his classroom for the rest of the month. They're a good compromise, respectful of the sentiment but irreverent about the tradition itself, which Ryan thinks makes concrete the somewhat unavoidable social hierarchies in high schools.
Ryan wonders if they'll even do this at the new school—that is, if he has that job. He's pretty sure Simon does, though, which means either way this is his last year at Hughes. He's been thinking about that off and on since they got back from New York, about moving out of his little house into an apartment, maybe in one of those Brooklyn brownstones like on the Cosby Show, because living in the middle of everything feels like a bit too much of a change. He thinks about taking the subway instead of driving around in his tiny Saab, and while on the one hand he'll need to start taping more records to listen to on the Walkman, on the other hand it's that much more time to read.
And in all of this, Simon, which is the most surprising bit of the whole thing, that Simon asked him to go, that he said yes, that they even found each other because talk about needles in a haystack. Sure, Ryan loves old movies as much as the next gay man, though his taste is more to the comedies than to the semi-tragic romances—Douglas Sirk is a bit much, even with Rock Hudson—but at some point, probably when he was getting his masters, he stopped really thinking about love being in his future, and settled into being a sort of Mr. Chips. Which wouldn't have been such a bad life, really.
Mr. Seacrest sends white carnations to all the female teachers—and to Mr. Stacey, who also sends him one as a private joke, though Mr. Stacey doesn't realize what sort of joke it actually is—and a pink one, this year, to Miss Doolittle because she's a sweetheart and because she guessed his entire situation during her first week at Hughes. But a few days ago, he stayed late grading and changing the display in his classroom, so he could secretly send a red carnation to a certain dean of discipline. The pile of flowers on his desk is often the talk of the school, but the red carnation that Mr. Cowell gets every year is a Hughes mystery. Ryan just likes that it pleases Simon no end, mostly because the students can't imagine that anyone would want to make a declaration of love to Simon Cowell. Ryan, of course, has to keep himself from doing just that six or seven times a day.
When Ryan gets home there will be a little pot of African violets on his stoop from someone who knows how much Ryan loves them, because they're pretty and little and subdued and grow in the shade. Simon will come in with a dinner from that little inn near Springfield, the one that caters to the more upscale university parents, and Ryan will lay out a pretty table for two in the sunporch, with candles and china. And there'll be soft music, and Simon will keep his carnation on and be in one of his good moods where Ryan can't believe that everyone isn't in love with this man, and they'll dance before it's over. He could get hung up on how they can't do this in public, but as Simon would say, they're just that much closer to the bed.
First period is AP seniors. He looks into the back of the room and sees Blake, swinging a leg and singing to his Walkman, a red carnation in his lapel; his arch self-satisfaction is familiar, though it's odd to see it on such a young face. Ryan wonders how many other people in school know exactly who it's from, worries about that for a moment. Gina slips in and the two of them gush over their gifts. Gina looks surprised but Ryan isn't; she's going with that Daughtry kid, who yes, has struggled with apathy but always seemed to Ryan to have a good heart, the sort who worried a lot about what a man was and wasn't supposed to be, and would step up when necessary. But it's Blake's flower that makes him think about the reality of teaching in a school where it wouldn't have to be anonymous.
For that matter, he wonders what it will be like to live in a city where he and Simon can do this in public, where they're living together, where they're seen as a positive role model for the kids in their charge because they love each other, and it's more than he can really comprehend. He knows—he reads, and Simon has warned him—that right now the gay community in New York is in crisis, and in some ways he looks forward to being able to actually do something about it rather than just read and shudder. It won't all be roses, but right now all they have are red carnations and African violets anyway.
The bell rings, shaking him out of his reverie, and while he knows the students are mostly staring at the heap of carnations, he can't help but worry that they could tell what he'd been thinking about. He gets up to close the door and sees Simon, out in the hall, standing where Ryan can see him but the students can't. He looks back and forth down the hall, then winks, patting his carnation. Ryan can feel his cheeks coloring, and he closes the door, walking up to the board so the students can't quite see his face.
"I know it's a cliche, but it's Romantic poets today," he says, writing George Gordon Byron on the board.
7: March 1985
Notes:
The Harvey Milk School started in the fall of 1985 as a small program for gay and lesbian kids in the New York public school system. It has now grown into a full-sized school that is back under the supervision of the NYC Board of Ed, but at its inception it was under the control of the Hetrick-Martin Institute, an organization for outreach to gay youth in the city that Simon refers to in previous chapters. I'll talk more about Harvey Milk himself next chapter.
In 1985 the gay community in New York was definitely in crisis; Reagan still hadn't said the word "AIDS" out loud. It was still easy to feel remote from the AIDS crisis out in small town America in 1985, but in New York (or San Francisco, or Miami) it was impossible. Gay Men's Health Crisis was still the primary organizing body in New York; ACT-UP wouldn't be founded for another two years, as the community grew more willing to protest in the face of continued indifference of the government. It had only just been determined that HIV (which didn't have that name until 1986) was the cause of AIDS and the first tests were being developed in 1985. I don't get into it here, but Simon, having been a sexually active gay man in New York in the late 70s, would likely have been first in line to get one.
Title: Goodbye, Mr. Seacrest, or, To Simon, with Love: Rymon Missing Scenes from the Fast Times at Idol High 80s AU
Pairing: American Idol: Ryan Seacrest/Simon Cowell
Rating: PG
Summary: The story behind the dozens of Valentine's Day carnations given to Mr. Seacrest, and the even more mysterious one given to Mr. Cowell.
Length: 1100 words
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, clearly, as Ryan isn't crafty enough to make poodles out of carnations.
Notes: Fast Times at Idol High,
lillijulianne's 80s high school AU, can be read by friending stepintomyocean.Special thanks to Juli for writing this awesome AU, letting me be a part of it, encouraging me get my teacher kink on, and of course being an amazing beta. Oh, and for writing Ryan and Simon into her story in the first place.
Prologue: September 1981 | 1: September 1984 | 2: October 1984 | 3: November 1984 | 4: December 1984 | 5: January 1985
february 1985
Whenever students comment on the annual avalanche of pink and red carnations on Mr. Seacrest's desk, he always replies, "It wasn't like this when I was your age."
Which is true. Ryan usually got three or four white carnations from female friends, to whom he always sent one in return. (That really should have been a clue right there, that so many of his close friends were girls.) Sometimes there was an anonymous pink. And that was it; pretty average, really.
Now, of course, it's absurd. He'd thought it would taper off once he wasn't the young new teacher anymore, but it shows no signs of stopping whatsoever. After the first year he called his mother and asked her what to do with them. Typically she responded with crafts, so the poodles were born. He builds them during his study halls or when the students are reading quietly, and they sit around his classroom for the rest of the month. They're a good compromise, respectful of the sentiment but irreverent about the tradition itself, which Ryan thinks makes concrete the somewhat unavoidable social hierarchies in high schools.
Ryan wonders if they'll even do this at the new school—that is, if he has that job. He's pretty sure Simon does, though, which means either way this is his last year at Hughes. He's been thinking about that off and on since they got back from New York, about moving out of his little house into an apartment, maybe in one of those Brooklyn brownstones like on the Cosby Show, because living in the middle of everything feels like a bit too much of a change. He thinks about taking the subway instead of driving around in his tiny Saab, and while on the one hand he'll need to start taping more records to listen to on the Walkman, on the other hand it's that much more time to read.
And in all of this, Simon, which is the most surprising bit of the whole thing, that Simon asked him to go, that he said yes, that they even found each other because talk about needles in a haystack. Sure, Ryan loves old movies as much as the next gay man, though his taste is more to the comedies than to the semi-tragic romances—Douglas Sirk is a bit much, even with Rock Hudson—but at some point, probably when he was getting his masters, he stopped really thinking about love being in his future, and settled into being a sort of Mr. Chips. Which wouldn't have been such a bad life, really.
Mr. Seacrest sends white carnations to all the female teachers—and to Mr. Stacey, who also sends him one as a private joke, though Mr. Stacey doesn't realize what sort of joke it actually is—and a pink one, this year, to Miss Doolittle because she's a sweetheart and because she guessed his entire situation during her first week at Hughes. But a few days ago, he stayed late grading and changing the display in his classroom, so he could secretly send a red carnation to a certain dean of discipline. The pile of flowers on his desk is often the talk of the school, but the red carnation that Mr. Cowell gets every year is a Hughes mystery. Ryan just likes that it pleases Simon no end, mostly because the students can't imagine that anyone would want to make a declaration of love to Simon Cowell. Ryan, of course, has to keep himself from doing just that six or seven times a day.
When Ryan gets home there will be a little pot of African violets on his stoop from someone who knows how much Ryan loves them, because they're pretty and little and subdued and grow in the shade. Simon will come in with a dinner from that little inn near Springfield, the one that caters to the more upscale university parents, and Ryan will lay out a pretty table for two in the sunporch, with candles and china. And there'll be soft music, and Simon will keep his carnation on and be in one of his good moods where Ryan can't believe that everyone isn't in love with this man, and they'll dance before it's over. He could get hung up on how they can't do this in public, but as Simon would say, they're just that much closer to the bed.
First period is AP seniors. He looks into the back of the room and sees Blake, swinging a leg and singing to his Walkman, a red carnation in his lapel; his arch self-satisfaction is familiar, though it's odd to see it on such a young face. Ryan wonders how many other people in school know exactly who it's from, worries about that for a moment. Gina slips in and the two of them gush over their gifts. Gina looks surprised but Ryan isn't; she's going with that Daughtry kid, who yes, has struggled with apathy but always seemed to Ryan to have a good heart, the sort who worried a lot about what a man was and wasn't supposed to be, and would step up when necessary. But it's Blake's flower that makes him think about the reality of teaching in a school where it wouldn't have to be anonymous.
For that matter, he wonders what it will be like to live in a city where he and Simon can do this in public, where they're living together, where they're seen as a positive role model for the kids in their charge because they love each other, and it's more than he can really comprehend. He knows—he reads, and Simon has warned him—that right now the gay community in New York is in crisis, and in some ways he looks forward to being able to actually do something about it rather than just read and shudder. It won't all be roses, but right now all they have are red carnations and African violets anyway.
The bell rings, shaking him out of his reverie, and while he knows the students are mostly staring at the heap of carnations, he can't help but worry that they could tell what he'd been thinking about. He gets up to close the door and sees Simon, out in the hall, standing where Ryan can see him but the students can't. He looks back and forth down the hall, then winks, patting his carnation. Ryan can feel his cheeks coloring, and he closes the door, walking up to the board so the students can't quite see his face.
"I know it's a cliche, but it's Romantic poets today," he says, writing George Gordon Byron on the board.
7: March 1985
Notes:
The Harvey Milk School started in the fall of 1985 as a small program for gay and lesbian kids in the New York public school system. It has now grown into a full-sized school that is back under the supervision of the NYC Board of Ed, but at its inception it was under the control of the Hetrick-Martin Institute, an organization for outreach to gay youth in the city that Simon refers to in previous chapters. I'll talk more about Harvey Milk himself next chapter.
In 1985 the gay community in New York was definitely in crisis; Reagan still hadn't said the word "AIDS" out loud. It was still easy to feel remote from the AIDS crisis out in small town America in 1985, but in New York (or San Francisco, or Miami) it was impossible. Gay Men's Health Crisis was still the primary organizing body in New York; ACT-UP wouldn't be founded for another two years, as the community grew more willing to protest in the face of continued indifference of the government. It had only just been determined that HIV (which didn't have that name until 1986) was the cause of AIDS and the first tests were being developed in 1985. I don't get into it here, but Simon, having been a sexually active gay man in New York in the late 70s, would likely have been first in line to get one.
