Pairing: Rachel/Octavian, Octachel

A.N: This thing was written for Octachel week. I hope that it's not too bad. It's vaguely based off f a drawing by Viria on tumblr.

"But Mommy," Octavian whined, burrowing his head into her leg, "I don't wanna go to preschool. I wanna stay with you."

She placed a light kiss to his forehead and said, "You're going to love preschool. I'm sure that you're going to be ruling it by the time I pick you up, but make sure to make some friends as well. " He bit his lip and firmly grasped one of the many stuffed animals that he'd attached to his belt as he watched her walk vowed that he'd conquer this stupid school.

He took a tentative step into the classroom. The walls were coated in colorful "Jesus Loves You" style posters and an alphabet train wrapped around the ceiling. Children around his age sat in little blue chairs around crescent shaped desks. An old, pleasant woman sent him a warm smile.

"What's your name?" she asked in her kind and trembling voice.

"Octavian," he said, his voice coming out much more confident that he'd originally thought it would sound. The woman looked slightly taken back by his strange and pretentious sounding name, but she wrote it in green ink on a little sheet of sticky paper and placed it on the front of his blue Transformers shirt. She led him to a seat at the end crescent shaped tables, beside a girl in a tie dyed shirt with a bright and wild mat of curly, ginger hair. He looked more closely at her shirt and saw her name tag, but he couldn't read it.

The teacher started speaking, something about rules and guidelines and various other things that Octavian couldn't care less about and didn't feel applied to him.

"But preschool isn't all about rules," she said, "most of the time it's about learning," Octavian internally groaned, "and sometimes it's about snacks!" The kids all perked up after that announcement, and some even cheered. The teacher, Mrs Whatever her name was, told the class to follow her to the kitchen.

They formed a mob and the teacher said something about learning to form a straight line later. They passed through the church's carpeted hallway and ended up sitting at a cafeteria table right in front of the kitchen window. Octavian plopped down beside the redhead and waited for his snack. The teacher set a white napkin down in front of him and set a pile of pretzel sticks on it. He quickly devoured them and started taking them from the girl beside him's pile. The third time he stuck his hand into his pile, she swatted it away.

"Hey!" he yelled, "what was that for?"

"Those are mine," she said, "Not yours."

"I can take what I like," he grumbled.

"Says who?" she demanded, with a glare scarier than any preschooler's had a right to be.

"Says me," he replied, trying to stay confident, "Octavian."

"Well," she said, poking her finger into his chest , "I'm Rachel Dare and you can't steal my stuff!" His face went beat red and he shuffled with the stuffed animals on his belt. He took out a lion and held it out to her in apology.

"Wanna one?" he asked, barely coherent. She gaped at him a moment, before she was reminded that he was offering her a stuffed animal, which are much like gold to preschoolers.

"Yeah," she said, grabbing it, "thanks, Tavy." He frowned at the nickname and then considered it a moment. She'd nicknamed him. It seemed that he'd made a friend. Friendship first, schoolwide domination later.