Written for the Spartacus KinkMe. Based on the following prompt: Agron/Nasir Modern kidfic AU. Duro, Agron's much younger little brother, introduces him to his favorite teacher, Mr. Nasir, and Agron finds there are many things he wishes Mr. Nasir to teach him.


"Come oannnn, Aggie!"

Agron tugged back on the hand in his, the boy attached to it bouncing into his legs. Duro looked up at him, face set petulantly.

"Quit calling me that," Agron growled, before allowing the boy to tug him onwards again, trying not to feel awkward and out of place. The other Mum's were side-eyeing him (at least he hoped that's what those expressions were) and he stood out by being a good three decades younger than everyone in the room who didn't finger-paint regularly.

"Aggie!" Duro whined, tugging on his sleeve, but when Agron turned back to snap at him for that fucking nickname he found himself mute.

"This is Mr Nasir," Duro piped up, ruining the epic swell of music in Agron's brain, "He's my favourite."

"Now Duro," the dark-skinned God smiled, bending down until he was eye to eye with Agron's kid brother, "We don't have favourites, do we?"

He ruffled Duro's hair as the boy shook his head eagerly, and Agron fought thoughts of what else Mr Nasir could do whilst down there. Thoughts he should not be having whilst holding his six year old brother's hand.

"Agron," Agron introduced, shoving a hand into Mr Nasir's face as he stood up.

"Nasir," the man replied, extending his own hand for shaking.

"Your name is Nasir Nasir?" Agron asked absently, stroking his thumb over the back of Nasir's hand to check if the skin was as smooth as it looked.

"No, just Nasir," the man replied, extracting his hand from Agron's grasp with a slight frown, "The kids just have a tendency to call me Mr."

"Oh," Agron scrambled quickly to keep the man with him, keep him talking, but already his attention was being called.

"If you'll excuse me," he smiled, a polite teacher-parent smile that made Agron's face fall a little, before walking towards the parents scrambling for his words of praise.

For the rest of the parent's night, Agron watched Duro's favourite teacher with an intensity bordering on obsessive. There was something about the cut of the man's cheekbones, and the gentle way his eyes sloped, the colour and shine of him. Nasir caught his eye occasionally and although Agron cut his gaze away immediately, he was almost sure he noted a dusky blush on that coveted face.

The staring was the reason that Agron noted the way Nasir glared at Mr Spartacus, quiet hostility set deep in his eyes. It raised Agron's eyebrows, such open disdain.

"So," Agron murmured close to the man's ear, having finally managed to get close to him, "won't you tell me your full name so I can properly mourn your passing?"

Nasir jerked slightly in surprise, then turned his head to fix his eyes on Agron's face, mild confusion colouring his features. Agron nodded towards Spartacus and Nasir's eyes cut away again, face falling into a frown.

"You're brave," Agron continued conversationally, "glaring so openly at Spartacus, the man who single-handedly reformed the school board." Nasir's mouth twisted down and Agron's eyebrows raised even higher.

"You can't mean you were happier under Batiatus," Agron gaped incredulously, "it was well-known he wasn't favourable to those not of...fair descent."

Nasir let out something suspiciously like a hiss, a sound that had Agron's head tilting in interest and some arousal, before he snapped, "At least I knew where I stood with Batiatus."

"Yeah," Agron replied, "at the bottom of the pile, with no prospects."

"You're too young to understand," Nasir sneered, the too stupid implication in his tone hanging heavily between them. Agron felt the pyroclastic flow of his temper beneath his skin, hot and familiar. Even as it tried to consume him, Agron stared hard at the far wall and pulled the anger-management techniques he had been taught to the front of his mind. He forced his mouth into a smile, although he suspected it made quite an unpleasant visual, and felt the bubbling recede.

"I think Spartacus is a smart dude and I support the changes he's making," Agron gritted, "as will you if you have any fucking sense." He stood abruptly and walked away from Duro's favourite teacher without looking back.



Agron patted Duro on the head, distracted watching Nasir move amongst the children, making sure they were ready for the day's activities. Spartacus leaned close to Nasir, speaking low in his ear before clapping the other man's shoulder and striding off, leaving Nasir smiling after him. Agron wondered when that particular shift took place, pushing down the stupid rush of jealousy that shook him.

"Aggggiiiieeee!" Duro whined, and Agron sighed, bending down until he was eye-level with his brother to find out what the problem was. Duro's face was crunched up in six-year-old displeasure.

"What's up, Duro?" Agron questioned, trying hard not to smile at the boy's pout.

"Do I have to take part?" Duro whinged, "it's not fair, I..."

Duro trailed off, his eyes going wide as he tried to squirm behind Agron's bulk. Confused, Agron followed the boy's gaze, looking for whatever was spooking him. When he found it, he sighed internally.

Crixus was standing with his class, bent almost double to enable eye to eye contact with their serious, upturned faces. Agron grimaced out of habit. Nowadays, thanks in part to Duro no longer being taught by the Gaul (and in a big way to Naevia, who was awesome) Agron and Crixus were civil. Occasionally they even slipped into downright friendly but it was only months earlier that every meeting, both in school and out, was fractured with tension.

Crixus had a very specific teaching style that Agron could now see the benefit of, especially watching Saxa using her five-year-old swagger to put Lugo on his bum in the grass when he got too boisterous pulling her hair. Duro wasn't the kind of kid that responded well to Crixus' method though, he'd always been quieter, more thoughtful, and Agron was not the type of big brother to sit back and leave his kin to his misery. It bothered Agron mostly because he suspected he would have flourished in Crixus' class, had he been of age, and it irritated him (as well as making him feel selfish and shitty) that Duro hadn't responded favourably. It made Agron wonder (shamefully) if he'd spend the rest of his life always worrying about Duro, always having to make sure he wasn't in over his head.

Crixus caught Agron's eye and nodded in acknowledgement, a greeting Agron returned before scanning the field for Nasir almost reflexively.

"Duro still unhappy around Crixus I see."

The voice at his shoulder made him jerk defensively, whirling around in surprise. Nasir smiled up at him, supremely unbothered by Agron acting like a startled cat. Agron grunted in reply and turned to watch his brother, lined up with the rest of his class and scowling at his trainers. Agron couldn't help the fond smile that found his mouth.

"How is everything?" Nasir asked and Agron tensed. He didn't like to talk about his home life, especially not with the man he was simultaneously attracted to and annoyed at.

"I see you and Spartacus have made nice," Agron answered, ignoring the question entirely. To Nasir's credit, he didn't mention the obvious side-step. Instead he shrugged and tilted his head in such a delicate way that Agron could feel his hands twitching to reach for the other man's jaw.

"We had a conversation and now we're...on the same page."

Agron nodded despite his desperate urge to ask what the Principle had said to change Nasir's opinion and attitude so thoroughly. There was something about the man that made Agron want to know everything. He turned to ask Nasir about his origins and found the other man watching him thoughtfully, tongue tip trapped between his teeth. Agron might have whimpered a tiny bit. Nasir's eyes widened and he slanted a touch into Agron's space, expression speculative.


Naevia's voice blared over the tannoy and Nasir hopped back, making the same little hissing sound under his breath that had featured in many of Agron's fantasies. He straightened up and offered Agron a polite smile.

"We're up for the egg and spoon race, excuse me," and he was off before Agron could find adequate words to stall him. Again.

Agron was the first to admit that when he heard of Spartacus's plan to integrate their sports day with that of Roman Elementary, he was sceptical. Their Principle, Glaber, had been great friends with Batiatus and had not taken it well when he had been ousted by the school board. Apparently orgies on school grounds were nothing between friends.

Agron watched as Glaber shoved and jostled those around him in the line, slitted eyes fixed firmly on Spartacus's straight back, until he secured a position beside him but one. The race started off and all the teachers participating began the semi-slow wobble to the line, eggs and spoons extended out in front of them. Agron watched as Glaber dropped his shoulder, clearly intent on barging the woman next to him who would then take out Spartacus. He was supremely unsurprised that Glaber would use a friendly race to extract some sort of revenge.

Just as Glaber was poised to put his plan into action, Agron's eyes flicked to Nasir who chose that moment to fake a slip that sent his feet onto Glaber's heels, taking both men down. Nasir landed half on top of Glaber, who could only watch from the dirt as Spartacus crossed the line first amidst laughing colleagues and cheering parents. Agron kept his eye on Nasir who hauled Glaber to his feet, obviously apologising and trying to brush the man's clothes down. Glaber batted Nasir's hands away and glared before stomping off toward his own pupils but Agron's eyes never left Nasir's face, whose lips slid up into a brief, triumphant smile.

At the end of the event when children were being herded up by parents and teachers were collecting equipment, Agron slid up behind Nasir as he tidied the empty cups at the refreshment table and brought his lips close to the other man's ear.

"You favour clever strategy," he murmured, tone barely hiding his amusement, "Fuck the man from behind."

Nasir turned slowly, staring up at Agron's grinning face, following his eyes as they flicked towards Glaber's mud-covered bottom disappearing into a minibus. The dark-skinned man's face was the picture of unsure for several long moments, but Agron kept his grin in place until the ghost of a smile graced those curved lips. With a wink over his shoulder Agron headed off to grab Duro, leaving a flabbergasted Nasir behind.


There was something infinitely enjoyable about setting up a display for the kids. Agron loved the way they'd all look up at him, little faces all serious and focused, trying valiantly to copy every move.

The mums stared at him a lot at these outings and he hammed it up a bit, taking off his shirt and throwing the kids about. Most of them were married and just looking for a bit of eye-candy which was fine by Agron because, more often than not, it meant mums brought their kids to the Toddlers and Tykes sessions he ran at the gym. His boss was pleased because the classes were always full and it meant good revenue for the business, but the real reason Agron didn't mind the glances and the not-so-subtle touches was the kids. The younger he got them interested in exercise, the more likely they were to stick with it. That was worth all the over-familiarity – even from the Roman Elementary mums, who were notoriously more handsy than most. Agron put it down to having money and kids and not much else to fill their time – he merely smiled and feigned obliviousness through it.

Agron turned his head to Naevia, who was working with her own group of kids, and couldn't help but grin. Saxa was right at the front, copying Naevia with ferocious concentration, the expression of adulation on her five year old face almost vicious in its intensity. He leaned over and nudged his elbow into Crixus ribs before nodding toward Saxa and murmuring, "looks like you've got some competition", smirking at how quickly Crixus head whipped to Naevia. The murmured, "German cock", in return made him sputter a laugh.

After a few minutes, Agron turned his head back to Naevia's position, this time paying attention to the very edge of his vision as he had intended to before being distracted witnessing the birth of Saxa's hero-worship.

Sure enough, Nasir's eyes were upon him and Agron felt quite confident that the sheen to them was lust or, at the very least, enough admiration for his physical form for him to work with. Yeah, he could definitely work with the way Nasir was glancing at him with the tip of his tongue trapped between his teeth.

Once the kids were distracted by Crixus barbequing skills, (Agron could admit the man flame-grilled a tasty burger), he took the opportunity to sidle up behind Nasir, who was making sure all the kid's belongings were packed in the correct backpacks.

"Did you enjoy the show?" Agron questioned in a deliberately sultry tone, after taking a few moments to admire the other man's musculature.

Nasir froze at the feel of Agron's breath on his neck before smoothly carrying on his task, recovering much faster than Agron would have liked.

"The children seemed to enjoy themselves," he replied without turning around, "the mothers too."

Agron could definitely work with jealousy.

"Did they?" Agron kept his voice carefully innocent, "I can't say I noticed them." By sheer force of will, he managed to leave the but I noticed you implied.

At that Nasir finally turned, looking up at Agron with something close to amusement curling his lips. Agron wanted his tongue to be curling those lips, but he'd settle for now.

"What will you do when you no longer have such ardent admirers?" he asked, voice teasing.

"What do you mean?" Agron asked, confused. Was Nasir suggesting he would one day be unappealing to look at?

"Well, it's a little unprofessional to be so blatant at most jobs," Nasir replied, smile still flirty. Agron remained silent, aware of where this was going and disappointed because of it.

"Your choice of job makes sense right now," Nasir said into the silence, gesturing at Agron's body, a slight frown marring his features, "but you can't work at a gym all your life."

"And why is that?" Agron's voice was flat as rock. "I love my job."

"Of course you do," Nasir soothed and Agron bristled at the tone, so damn condescending, "but you're 19, you have plenty of time to find something worthwhile to dedicate your life to."

The previously sweet air tasted suddenly sour to Agron's tongue, and he cut his eyes to the children playing ring-a-roses in the grass rather than look at Nasir's questioning face. Had the conversation taken place only a year earlier, he most likely would have lost his head. Thankfully he had made enough progress with his anger management coach that he was able to mentally pull it back.

He pictured Oenomaus face in his head, heard his voice saying tamp it down and turn it around before returning his eyes to the impossibly beautiful man looking back at him.

"It's a shame you see it that way," he managed to grit out before turning on his heel and heading towards Duro, ignoring Nasir calling after him.


"You look silly," Duro laughed, face lit up with mirth as he looked at his big brother. Agron tried to look stern but it was hard wearing just a loincloth and a cardboard helmet sprayed gold.

"Shouldn't you be learning lines somewhere else, Duro?" Agron snapped, keeping up his pretence at irritation because he knew how much Duro liked to push him. True to form, Duro shook his head and, giggling madly, poked Agron in his exposed thigh. Agron growled and made a lunge that sent Duro fleeing for safety.

Out of the corner of his eye Agron saw Nasir watching, a fond almost wistful smile on his lips. Straightening up, he deliberately turned his back on the dark-skinned teacher. Maybe he was being petty but he was still smarting from Nasir's words at the summer picnic.

Nasir, to be fair to the man, had tried to apologise several times. At least, Agron assumed he would have, had Agron not studiously avoided him on sight. Nasir even went as far as to sign up for one of his hand-to-hand combat classes, turning up twice a week every week for the full twelve-week run. He had stayed behind after every class, trying to catch Agron's attention, waiting to talk to him.

Despite the lengths Nasir had gone to, Agron's surprise at how talented Nasir proved to be, and the shockingly erotic hiss he made every time he attacked (that made Agron's balls positively ache), Agron had continued to avoid the man, surrounding himself with students until Nasir admitted defeat and left. Naevia had questioned it but Agron had shook his head and remained mute on the subject until she had, reluctantly, dropped it.

"Okay," Spartacus clapped his hands and Agron took a moment to appreciate how quickly everybody's attention turned to him. "It's curtain up in ten minutes, are all actors present?"

Agron had to admit when he had heard Spartacus plans for the Christmas play, he had genuinely thought the Principle had finally chosen a battle he had no hope of winning. The parents were in an uproar and had turned out en masse at the winter-term school board meeting.

Spartacus had made his case and Agron had watched, amazed, as even the most vehemently opposed parent crumbled in the onslaught. By the end of the meeting it was settled – the traditional Christmas pageant was out, David and Goliath was in. Afterwards, when Agron had jokingly asked which child was expected to play Goliath, Spartacus had turned to him and he had known he was in trouble.

The play went off without a hitch, due largely to both Spartacus and Crixus efforts, Mira's David to his Goliath (another controversial choice) fierce and flawless. Agron sat off stage, (one too many tripping accidents during rehearsals convincing them that Goliath lying dead on stage was not a great plan), watching the kids wrap up the final scenes, their audience completely captivated.

"You make quite the giant." Agron tensed at the sound of Nasir's voice.

"Big and dumb," Agron replied tonelessly, ready to rise, but a hesitant hand on his shoulder stilled him.

"I shouldn't have said what I said," the soft voice continued, "it was rude and terribly condescending of me to assume your job was of lesser importance because of your age, or its...physicality."

Agron held in a snort at that but made no move to speak. Nasir's hand flexed on his shoulder, tightening momentarily, and Agron closed his eyes to better enjoy the sensation, safe in the knowledge Nasir couldn't see his reaction.

"Your class was...enlightening."

Agron was fairly sure he wasn't making up the teasing tone of Nasir's voice, and he definitely wasn't making up the way the man's pinkie was caressing the side of his neck.

"Oh?" was the best he could do under the circumstances.

"Mmm." The pinkie was followed by a firm kneading pressure by the heel of a hand on the cord of his neck. He may have groaned a tiny bit.

There was a cough and Agron's eyes popped open to see Spartacus and the entire cast of the play staring at him from the stage.

"I said," Spartacus repeated slowly, "a cheer for our favourite Goliath!"

Agron fled onto the stage to accept his applause, the sound of Nasir's warm chuckle following at his back.

"Aggie," Duro said later as they walked home, his hand clasped firmly in his older brother's, "I think Mr Nasir likes you."

Agron sputtered but Duro merely looked thoughtful a moment before turning his eyes to his brother, nose scrunched up, and asking, "Can boys date other boys?"

Agron tripped over his own feet and fell on his ass.


Agron had to admit that his brother looked the sharpest of all his classmates. When Duro had made the original request, Agron had asked if new jeans and a shirt wouldn't do. Duro had looked at him very seriously and replied, "No Aggie, it has to be something special."

Luckily Naevia, the adorable woman that she was, knew someone who knew someone and within two weeks Duro was the proud owner of a soft black tuxedo, complete with silk bowtie. It hadn't been cheap but Duro asked for very little and went without so much that Agron couldn't see the harm in indulging him occasionally.

Duro swung by him, guiding Ilythia in an elaborate twirling sweep that had the eight year old giggling madly, her dress whirling out in a cloud of soft pink. When Agron had brought up the fact that Ilythia was a year above Duro and perhaps not a sensible choice of dance partner, Duro had huffed, "I'm seven next month," and asked her anyway, her immediate acceptance proving Agron wrong.

He kept to the sidelines, enough out of the way as to not be intrusive, and made sure to keep his eye on the other kids at least as much as he did Duro and his dance partner, but his eyes continually drifted back. Moments like these made Agron's heart ache, both for his brother and for himself. He was guessing his way more than anything when it came to Duro and watching the boy's intent face as he fetched Ilythia a soft drink, Agron wished fiercely for his mother.

She would have known how to handle this situation in the instinctive way of mother's everywhere. She would have known what to say to Duro, and how to react to Ilythia, but whatever advice she may have given in her soft German tongue was lost to Agron. He tried to make sure Duro had a working knowledge of their mother's native language, the least he could do, but knew he spoke it less often than he should, the words often opening a sharpness in his heart he found difficult to contain.

Mostly Agron wished Duro still had a mother and a father, instead of a brother who was muddling along as best as he could.

"Your brother looks devilishly handsome this evening," a voice whispered in his ear, far too close to comfort, "The prince to Ilythia's belle, no?"

"Lucretia," Agron greeted, trying not to cringe from the woman behind him, looking more naked in a full-length gown than he had ever thought possible.

"In need of a mother's attention though perhaps?" Lucretia laid a falsely gentle hand on his bicep, but her eyes were shrewd and calculating. Just the thought of this woman taking over the role of Duro's mother made bile rise in his throat.

"Actually, I think Agron is doing a splendid job with Duro," a sharp voice broke in. "The child needs for nothing, least of all a mother figure."

Agron turned to Nasir, surprised at the harsh tone of his words and the challenging glint in his eye. Lucretia raised a delicate eyebrow but Nasir stepped closer, tipping himself until he was angled just between her and Agron, meaning she had to (unwillingly) remove her hand from Agron's skin.

Lucretia, who had looked startled, now looked pretty pissed off. It was an expression Agron had seen conquer many men but Nasir held his ground. Agron couldn't see his face, angled as he was behind the smaller man, but he sorely wished he could, if only to understand what caused Lucretia's eyebrows to rise sharply as she took a small step back.

"I believe Naevia would welcome your help with the drinks," Nasir said quietly, hardly any inflection at all and yet, to Agron's ear, it had the feel of a threat.

"Well, well, little man," Agron began as Lucretia beat her hasty retreat and Nasir turned to him, skin flushed beautifully in the dim gymnasium lights.

"Don't call me that," Nasir snapped, cutting him off. Agron held his tongue at the other man's agitated fidgeting, watching him closely as he visibly tried to calm himself down.

It was, to be honest, a bit of a shock, this odd reaction. Agron had received nothing but arms-length professionalism since the Christmas play. He'd even gone as far as to awkwardly, in a roundabout way, ask Spartacus about the school board's dating policy, to which he received a blunt, "No, I didn't ban Nasir from dating you". Agron had recoiled guiltily before changing the subject.

"I did not like her hands upon you." Nasir's voice broke through Agron's thoughts. He looked down at the teacher whose face was blank, as though he was accustomed to hiding his desires (Agron supposed that may have been the case), eyes fixed on a spot over Agron's left shoulder. Agron took a good look at that mask and wondered how much it would take to crack it.

"You're really hot and I've wanted to see you naked since the parent/teacher night last year," he said bluntly, something like satisfaction sluicing his muscles when the pulse in Nasir's throat jumped, his eyes bouncing from middle distance to Agron's and away again. That dull red flush that slowly overtook his skin was erotic as fuck, and Agron had to bite his tongue from telling him so.

Instead he said, "but you're confusing and, honestly? I can't figure out whether you want me, or want to fuck me, or just like toying with me."

Nasir's gaze flitted over his face, never resting, then he turned his head away, jaw flexing, expression tense. Agron wondered briefly if he'd pushed the man too far but, because he was far smarter than most people gave him credit for, he forced his eyes away from Nasir and kept his body relaxed as he added, "not sure it's worth the trouble anyways."

A hiss, not too dissimilar to from Nasir's attacking noise, reached his ear a micro-second before Nasir's hand clamped around his wrist and he started tugging Agron across the dance floor, mindless to the dancing children around them.

"Where are we going?"

Nasir glanced back, eyes flashing, before snapping, "For a ten minute break, " and towing him along harder.

Agron hoped he had his triumphant grin under control when they reached their destination.


"Fucking Gods above and below," Agron gritted and felt the flutter of Nasir's breath on his neck as the man twisted his fingers slightly to the left, probing deeper whilst spreading them a little. Agron groaned, his head dipping low, arms locking tight.

"Shh," Nasir admonished with laughter in his voice, "if you aren't quiet someone might hear."

If he focused, Agron could hear the not-distant-enough sound of children laughing as they took part in the activities the summer school had set up. Nasir's teeth, gentle but insistent on his shoulder, broke his concentration. The smell of well-used sports equipment and dusty mats that permeated the cupboard Nasir had dragged him into was lost on the filthy coil of the man's fingers.

"Do you feel ready?" Nasir asked, voice a heady rush of arousal across Agron's skin. He nodded vigorously, shuddering as Nasir's tongue slid lightly between his shoulder blades. He shuddered harder as Nasir's body pressed against his own, those sweet lips whispering the comforting and the lewd in the same breath. Agron tried to laugh, punched out a little achey gasp instead as Nasir made good on that vigorous nodding, effectively creating negative distance.

"Agron," Nasir whispered, rocking against him, and the tennis racket knocking into his knee, the squeak of the mats beneath his curling toes, the fact that they were doing this in a school that his brother attended, paled into insignificance. There was only Nasir and his cock and his hands and his words, and Agron's own beating heart.

They came together, rushed and messy, Agron silencing his cries with his teeth set into his wrist, Nasir's set into Agron's shoulder. They stood together, skin touching lightly like they needed it, until the growing clarity of children's voices had them scrambling for discarded clothing.

"That's what happens to teases," Nasir panted as he watched Agron hunt for his missing shoe, eyes still wild despite the climax he had reached not minutes earlier.

"Good to know," Agron grinned back, and Nasir swatted his ass just as Crixus pulled open the door.

Thank you for reading, and feel free to leave me your thoughts.