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featherby · 1 year

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Be My Valentine? (Toad x Reader)

You are a teacher at the Jean Grey School for Higher Learning, and Valentine’s Day is fast approaching. While your students are busy preparing for the dance, you have something else on your mind—the flowers left on your desk with no name attached. Will you figure out who left them before Valentine’s Day, or will you be chaperoning alone?

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You walked down the hallway of the mansion to your classroom, dodging the dangling pink and red paper hearts that hung from the ceiling. Valentine’s Day was coming soon, and the students had planned a party. Decorations were plastered on every wall, surrounding bright pink flyers announcing the time and place: 7 PM, the dining hall. For the night, the tables would be shoved to the side and stacked with snacks and drinks, the rest of the room filled with confetti, streamers, and balloons, lights dimmed and music blaring while they celebrated.

You would probably be chaperoning, camped out by the wall, making sure no one spiked the punch.

It would be nice to have someone to spend the day with, you thought. Spending it alone wasn’t anything new, and therefore wasn’t especially painful, but it would be nice. Different. A little less lonely.

It was…fine. You had time, the whole rest of your life, to find a partner. And even if you didn’t, it wasn’t that big a deal. You functioned just fine on your own. But you had to admit it would be nice.

Valentine’s Day was a reminder of that.

You stepped into your classroom and flipped the lights on. A burst of color that wasn’t usually there caught your eye as the room brightened.

There, on the desk, was a bouquet of flowers. Red carnations, purple asters, tiny white flowers sprinkled in between, all arranged in a vase. You stooped to smell them, their sweet perfume making you smile. Beside them, you noticed a blank red envelope. You picked it up and slid the card out—a simple one, a red heart with Be my Valentine? in gold on the front.

Inside, in small, crooked handwriting, it read:

I wasn’t sure if I should do this or not, but I decided I might as well try. I think you're great. You smile at me whenever you pass me in the hall, and it makes my day every time. (You probably smile at everyone, but I still like it.) I hope you have a happy Valentine’s Day.

You smiled as you read it. Such a sweet note.

With no name on it.

You checked over the rest of the card for a signature, the back the front, the envelope, inside and out. You looked the bouquet over for a card tucked between the flowers. Nothing.

You sighed. That was just your luck, wasn’t it?

The door opened, and you looked up. The janitor, Toad, walked in, a stern look on his face that grew sterner when he saw you at the desk.

You smiled. “Morning.”

He nodded, hovering in the doorway a moment, before grabbing the trash can from beside your desk.

You looked at the flowers again while he emptied it, turning the vase, hoping to find something hidden between the petals, if not a name, then a clue of some kind.

Toad replaced the can and made his way back toward the door, head low.

“Wait,” you said, before he could leave.

He turned around, hand on the doorknob. “Hmm?”

“Did you see anyone come in here this morning?” you asked. “Someone left me these flowers, but they didn’t put their name on the card.”

He frowned, a deep crevice forming between his eyebrows. ��I didn’t. Too busy running back and forth cleaning up everyone’s messes to see anything,” he grumbled.

Your heart fell. “Oh. Thanks.” You sat, head propped on your hand, gazing at the bouquet as he let himself out.

Toad shut the door with a huff and put a hand to his forehead. Dammit. Dammit, dammit, dammit! He knew you got to your classroom early, but he though he still had a little time. As soon as he’d left the room that morning, he’d changed his mind about leaving the flowers and the note. It could only go badly. At best, you’d never find out it was from him. At best, you’d be disappointed. At best, you’d be disgusted.

But it was too late to trash the whole idea now.

No one had seen him leave them. No one knew he was planning to. There was a chance you might not figure it out.

He’d just have to hope you stayed in the dark.

Inside, you looked at the flowers and smiled. Things were looking up, at least. You moved them to the corner of your desk by the wall where they wouldn’t be knocked in the floor and turned on your computer. Right now, you had a class to teach.

The mystery could wait for the afternoon.

***

No one had any idea who left you the flowers. No one had seen anyone in the hall that morning. No one had seen anyone coming or going with them through the front door. No one knew anything.

You carried the vase back to your room on campus, placing it on a table near the door. It had been silly to get your hopes up, hadn't it? Anyone could have left them, and the odds of you figuring out who were slim to none.

It didn’t really matter, you supposed. But the upcoming holiday had swayed you. Valentine’s day was made for this, making people want romance any way they could get it. For a minute, you thought you could be one of those people, happily in a relationship on Valentine’s Day, all those hearts and roses and candies feeling like they were made for you. It was embarrassing to admit, even to yourself, that you had been a little more than excited to see those flowers on your desk. Maybe hopeful, maybe something more.

You picked up the card and reread it for the dozenth time. You smile at me whenever you pass me in the hall. They were right—that could be anyone. You passed by just about everyone each day, on the way to your classroom, the cafeteria, the dorms. It makes my day every time.

Well, maybe if you’d signed your note, I could make your day again. You sighed and sat heavily on the edge of the bed. Alright, let’s narrow this down.

It wasn’t handwriting you recognized, so it wasn’t a coworker you were close to. It was probably a man, but you couldn’t be sure about that based on handwriting alone.

Then it hit you: The bulletin board.

You could check there. Of course. Months’ worth of notes were pinned up there from the faculty, sign-up sheets, questions, requests, announcements, most of them written by hand, and most with names attached.

You picked up the card and set off.

Most of the pages on top were about the dance—sign-up sheets for chaperones, shopping lists, another flyer like the ones in the hallway. None of the writing on top matched your card. All too thin, too neat, too curly, too stiff. You lifted the top pages to search underneath, scanning over the tapestry of old notes.

A few letters caught your eye.

The paper had been covered by others; now only the very end peeked out. You tugged it free from the pin holding it in place and slid it out.

I don’t suppose we could just give them water this time instead of punch? Or anything that isn’t sticky? After the last party, it took me three days to get the floor clean.

—Toad

And that was it. Same crooked letters, same wide e’s, same smudged ink.

You’d found your man.

You let the papers fall back into place on the board and tucked the note you’d pulled from the bulletin into the card. As you turned to head back to your room, a half-smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. Toad. You were a little surprised. He didn’t seem to like… well, anyone. He kept to himself, glared at everyone, including you, and acted like everyone around him was nothing but the source of a mess he’d have to clean up later. You did your best to be nice to him, but it never seemed to make a difference.

Until now, of course.

He’d said his piece. Now it was your turn.

You walked back to your room on autopilot, the familiar halls nothing but a blur hidden behind your thoughts. What to do… The Valentine’s dance was the next night—the students and faculty alike would be preoccupied. Not much time to plan anything, but you weren’t about to let that stop you.

As you got ready for bed, a plan took shape in your mind. It might be a happy Valentine’s Day after all.

***

You picked up the bag from the counter and slung it over your shoulder. A glance at the clock told you the dance was set to start in an hour—plenty of time to spare.

You walked down the hall, scanning for Toad’s whereabouts. Students dashed back and forth, showing off their dresses, looking for their friends. You smiled. They deserved a good time. It’s a hard life being different—any joy is worth savoring.

You rounded the corner and spotted Toad’s janitor’s cart parked outside a classroom door, stacked with buckets and bottles. Inside, he stood near the back of the class between the empty desks, sweeping tiny specks of confetti into a pile.

You knocked on the door. “Are you busy?”

He grumbled something you couldn’t hear, then crouched to hold the dustpan in place while he swept the little paper hearts into it. “I am actually, so whatever’s been spilled or broken, I’ll get to it when I—” He looked back over his shoulder, the sour frown on his face vanishing to surprise when he saw you. “—get to it. Er. Hello.” He stood and shuffled around you to the trash can, dumping the confetti inside. “I didn’t realize it was…” He loaded the broom back onto his cart. He took a moment to think, fiddling with the bottles on the cart, then looked back at you. “What did you need cleaned up?”

You shook your head. “Oh, I didn’t need anything cleaned up. I just wanted to know if you were busy.”

He stared at you, unblinking. “Nothing that can't wait, I suppose. What do you need?” He clutched the edge of the cart in his hands to keep from fidgeting.

“Well, I really liked the flowers you got me,” you said, noting the slight change in his facial expression at the words—his eyes grew wider, his jaw tensed. “And I thought your note was sweet. So I was wondering if you might like to have a picnic with me on the grounds. While everyone is busy won't bother us, you know.”

He blinked, expression measured and unchanging. “How did you figure they were from me?”

“You have distinctive handwriting.” You smiled. “So. Picnic?”

“I, um, I mean, I would—” He swallowed and started again. “I’d love to. Yes.” He grinned. It was the first time you’d seen him smile.

You couldn’t help but smile back. “Great. I’m ready whenever you are, but I figure you need some time to finish up here.”

He glanced down at the cart and his grimy uniform. “Give me just a few minutes. Please. I promise I won't take long, I just—”

“That’s fine. Take your time. I’ll wait for you by the front door.”

He swallowed, forcing himself to breathe. “Right. I’ll meet you there. I won't be long, promise.”

“I wasn’t worried about it.” You laughed and waved as the two of you parted ways. A few steps down the hall, you glanced back over your shoulder to see him jogging along with the cart, keys jingling on his belt. You smiled and headed for the front door.

You hovered there, watching the students congregate, laughing with each other, twirling their skirts, fixing each other’s makeup. They all looked so happy, so excited—and for the first time in a long time, you felt the same.

***

Across the school, Toad panicked.

He scrubbed the grime from his arms and face in the bathroom sink. He ran his fingers through his hair, willing it to look something like presentable. Dis he have any clothes for this? Could he find some on such short notice? Christ, why did I agree to this? He shook his head to dislodge that particular thought. Because I bloody want to do it, that’s why! He turned off the tap and looked at himself in the mirror. This would be fine. it would be great. At the very least, it wouldn’t be awful. Unless you decided that you hated him, but what were the chances of that?

He decided not to answer that particular question.

Forget it. Just get changed and go find her.

***

You glanced at the clock on the far wall. He would be here any minute. Unless he had decided not to come, of course, but you didn’t let yourself dwell on the possibility. The students had disappeared into the dance, the music faintly thrumming through the doors, the pink and red lights reflecting through the windows.

You swayed to the music, eyes glued to the clock, lost in thought. This would be fun, right? A nice change of pace for both of you? You didn’t know Toad very well, but no one here really did. He seemed antisocial, like he’d be happier if everyone at the school disappeared or dropped dead and left him alone. But no one really wanted to be all alone, did they? They just wanted someone who treated them well, the way they wanted to be treated.

You sighed. You needed this date. And maybe Toad did too.

Beside you, someone cleared their throat.

Your eyes broke away from the clock, and you looked over to see Toad standing beside you. He held his hands, clutched together, in front of him, shuffling where he stood. “Hi.”

“Hi.” You smiled and straightened up. “Sorry, just thinking.”

“It’s fine. Sorry I took so long, I just wasn’t…” He didn’t know how to finish. He’d been trying to make himself look presentable, or at least as presentable as he was capable of looking. Someone you wouldn’t be ashamed to be seen with. But, he thought, failing that, this would do. He wore a light blue button-up shirt with a red bowtie and suspenders. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it—they made him stand out too much, more than he already did.

“Don’t worry about it. You look great.”

His heart skipped a beat. “No, you look great,” he blurted. “You always look great.”

You smiled as his cheeks went red. “Thank you. Ready to go?”

He nodded stiffly. “Yes. I’ll follow you.”

You held the door open, and he kicked himself for not opening it for you. The two of you walked in silence across the grounds, a comfortable silence for you, a madly uncomfortable silence for Toad. Should he say something? What? What would you want him to say? He couldn’t decide, so he made up his mind to wait until you said something—no sense in making a nuisance of himself right away.

Across the yard, the star-speckled sky spread out above you, the moon’s glow shining on the path. You stopped at a spot between two trees, their branches reaching out for each other above you.

“Is here okay?” you asked.

“It’s fine with me,” Toad said a little too quickly, cringing at himself.

You sat your bag against one of the trees and unrolled the blanket, spreading it out over the grass. You sat and pulled containers of food, drinks, and utensils out.

Toad stood, staring down at you, shifting back and forth.

You looked up and saw his uneasy squirming. You felt the same, as much as you hated to admit it—a little nervous, a little unsure. It was nice to know you weren’t alone in it.

“Sit,” you said, smiling and patting a spot on the blanket beside you.

Your voice startled him out of his stupor. “Right. Sorry.” He sat, careful to leave a gap between your leg and his.

You finished pulling the boxes out of your bag and sat it aside. “I didn’t make anything very fancy,” you said, popping the lid off a box of small triangle-cut sandwiches. “But I wanted to make it nice, you know?”

He nodded. “I wish I’d known about this sooner. I’d have—” He frowned. “I don’t know what I’d have done, but I would’ve done something.”

You laughed. “You could have known about it earlier, if you’d put your name on your card.” You nudged him, and he flinched away. Not the reaction you wanted. “And you did do something. You got me flowers.”

He tilted his head. “I dunno if that counts quite the same. Flowers versus making a whole meal for two.”

“It’s not a competition, first off. And I happen to love those flowers, and that note, so don’t talk bad about them.” You gave a fake scowl, then laughed. “And if you really need to even the score or whatever, I’m sure you can think of something.”

“Suppose so.” Toad fell quiet and stared down at his lap.

You nudged him again. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” He sat up and looked you in the eye, but in a split second, he broke your gaze and looked back down. “I’m just…”

“What?” you said softly.

“I’m sorry it was me and not… somebody better.” He shrank into himself. “You're probably disappointed. I can't blame you if you are.”

You frowned and turned so you were seated facing him. “I am not disappointed. And I'm not sorry it was you. If I had been, I would have just acted like I never figured out who that note was from.” You put your hand on his shoulder. “If I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t be.”

He glanced up through the hair hanging in front of his face, wide dark eyes reflecting back the moonlight. “You don’t have to say that, you know. It’s fine.”

You huffed. “I am not just saying it, I mean it. Whether you believe me or not, it’s the truth.” You looked him up and down. “And I don’t care what I have to do to prove it.”

He gave a short laugh, still looking down, not meeting your eye. “You know, I almost believed that. Easier to believe it when it comes from you, I suppose. Probably nicer to me than the rest of this school combined, if I'm honest.”

“That’s their loss.” You shuffled a little closer to him and rested your hand under his chin. He flinched, locking his wide eyes with yours. You smiled. “I didn’t mean for this to make you upset. Is there anything I can do to cheer you up?”

He blushed and sputtered out a few syllables, none of which managed to form words.

You traced your thumb along his jaw. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes, please.”

The words came fast and clear, and Toad cringed at the desperation in his voice. But before he could apologize or even linger too long on the thought, he found your lips pressed to his, soft and warm and sweet, everything he had hoped for, but a hundred times better. He closed his eyes, and for a moment, he felt nothing but you against him.

You pulled back, hand still resting on Toad’s face, to look at him. Relaxed, eyes closed, lips parted, a trace of a smile on them.

His eyes snapped open and his mouth shut. “Um. Was that…? Did you…?” He couldn’t find the words to finish his questions.

“It was, and I did.” You pressed another quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Did you?”

“Yes. Very much.”

You smiled. “Good. Because there’s plenty more where that came from. Hungry?”

You opened the rest of the boxes and the two of you ate, little sandwiches, fruit, crackers and cheese, and chocolate-covered strawberries. You told him about your life, about your hobbies, about the multitude of awful and hilarious things your students had done since you started work at the institute. He told you horror stories from his time as the janitor, things he’d seen in the Brotherhood, his interests and ideas for the future.

Eventually the food ran out and your glasses went empty, but you didn’t feel like leaving just yet. You leaned in beside him and rested your head on his shoulder, fingers intertwined with his. He leaned his head on top of yours and squeezed your hand.

“So, when can we do this again?” you asked, closing your eyes and sighing happily.

“Whenever you want.”

You laughed. “No, not whenever I want. You're busy. And you said you wanted some advance warning next time. So I’m leaving it up to you.”

“You might not want to do that.”

“Why not?”

“If it’s up to me, it’ll be tomorrow.”

You let go of his hand and wrapped your arm around his waist. “Works for me.”

He looked surprised. “Does it?”

“Mm-hmm.” You snuggled into his side. “When and where?”

He paused, hand resting on your back. “…Can I be absolutely absurd here?”

“Of course.”

“What time do you eat breakfast?”

You smiled and laughed. “Around seven.”

“Meet me in the kitchen then. I’ll have something ready.”

“Don’t overextend yourself, okay?” You squeezed him and looked up to meet his eye. “I know tomorrow’s going to be busy for you, cleaning up after the dance and all.”

“Don’t worry, that can wait until after breakfast.”

You frowned and nudged him. “I’m being serious.”

He nodded. “Alright, I won't lose sleep over it or anything. But I am gonna do something.”

“I’ll allow it.” You nestled back into his side and closed your eyes, then felt his arm creep around you, his hand finding a place to rest on your hip.

The chill of the February air crept over you, and you knew you shouldn’t stay out here much longer. But for a few more moments, you could enjoy this.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” you whispered, holding Toad a little closer.

“Happy Valentine’s Day.”

#my favorite frog #Be My Valentine?#toad x reader #mortimer tonybee x reader

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