AN: A Valentine's Day request from an anon on Tumblr. Sorry it's a little early and one of the only things I'll post this month - if you haven't heard, I am moving and my cat also fell on my internet cable and broke it off in the wall Lol Needless to say, I had it set up at the new house an not at the place I'm currently living. I am both busy and living like a cave person. Please forgive me!

Enjoy! And Happy Valentine's Day!

Aria is discussing symbolism in Arthur Miller's A View from the Bridge when there's a knock on her door. The class falls silent, everyone eager to find out who has interrupted the slightly boring, albeit insightful, lecture. They've all been waiting anxiously for their candy-grams, seeing as it's Valentine's Day, and they should be delivered between third and fourth periods.

She gives them all a knowing glance as she walks across the floor, her heels clicking and her skirt pulling taught at the knees. "I'll make them take these suckers back if you all start to act up," she warns. "So keep your voices down and stay in your seats." Her third period is full of juniors. They're not as bad as the freshman and sophomores, but they're still fairly more excitable than she'd like.

When she pulls open the door and stands back so that the man on the other side can be seen, she's surprised. The slight groan from the rest of the class lets makes it pretty obvious that they're less than pleased to see that it's just some stodgy delivery guy rather than an excited member of the student council.

"Hi," she says. "What can I do for you?"

"I have a delivery for a…" he looks down to a hand-held device, shoving the package under his elbow and squeezing it to his side. He taps the screen with the little pen a few times. "Mrs. Fitz?"

"Yes, that's me," she says.

He hands her the device and she takes it, turning it so that she can make out whatever's written on the screen. There's no context other than the fact that it is indeed a FedEx delivery for her. When she hands it back, he trades her for the package.

"Thanks," she says, her voice trailing off.

She looks across the top, over the label, and tries to make out if the sender is listed. Of course, it's not, there's just a hand-scrawled name and address in the middle of the box. The handwriting is recognizable though, and she doesn't have to open it to know whom it's from.

"What'd you get?" someone shouts from the sea of desks. It draws her attention back up and she turns to look at them.

"None of your business," she says. "Doesn't matter anyway; let's get back to Miller." She sets the box on her desk and walks back over to where she'd been leaning against an empty desk and picks her copy of A View from the Bridge back up, flipping to the next page. "Who can tell me a little bit about the Brooklyn Bridge. It's a bit obvious considering its reference in the title, but…did anyone pick up on what it symbolizes…" She lets the book rest at her lap, her arms crossed at the wrist, and waits for someone to raise their hand. When a young girl in the back does, she nods her head, encouraging her to talk.

"Well…it's bridging the two different economic classes…so in a way, it symbolizes the search for…a better way of life?"

"Close," Aria says, nodding her head. "It definitely bridges two economic classes, but I'm not sure I'd agree that it's significance resides with a better way of life. Think in broader terms. Think about it on a larger scale. What about hope? Do you think it could symbolize the hope Eddie has for his niece?"

The same girl raises her hand and Aria nods again.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Fitz…" she trails off. "Are you really not going to open the box?"

Aria is momentarily caught off guard, already having forgotten about the package on her desk. She clears her throat and purses her lips in thought.

"It's really none of your business," she says, giving the girl a look that clearly says, "I thought better of you, and I'm thoroughly disappointed in your nosiness."

However, at the same time, she remembers herself in high school and she knows that they're not going to think of anything else for the rest of the period until she satisfies their curiosity. Besides, she knows what's inside, and it's harmless.

Clearing her throat again and taking in a deep breath, she pushes herself off the desk and lets her heels click against the tile as she moves back to her desk at the front of the class.

"As I'm sure some of you know, if you had Mr. Fitz last year for Honors English I, he loves the theatre more than any other form of story-driven entertainment." She's standing behind her desk, her fingers spread out gently along the top of the desk, resting on either side of the box. She raises one and gestures to the walls where several posters have been hung. "Every year, for Valentine's Day, Mr. Fitz surprises me with tickets to a play. At some point during the day, he sends me the poster…it's just a goofy little tradition we have."

She reaches forward for a pair of scissors and opens them up wide so that she can cut the tape that's holding the box closed. "I'm sure you're all riveted at the idea, aren't you?" When she looks up at the class, they're mostly silent and seem disinterested, just as she would have expected. "Uh huh," she points the scissors at them. "Exactly the faces I expected."

"How long have you had the tradition?"

"About seven years," Aria answers, not looking up but sliding the blade of the scissors over the tape. She notes to herself briefly that the box is different than in years past. Typically when Ezra sends a poster, it comes in a tube…but what does she know? The flaps of the box flip up when the tape is cut free and a tuft of red tissue paper sticks up between the gaps.

"Anyone want to make a guess before I finish unwrapping?"

There are a few students who take the time to look at the walls around them, sizing up the genre of plays past. She can see their wheels turning, and there are a few who even go so far as to discuss both her and Ezra's taste – at least as much as they're able to tell from having them as teachers.

She reaches forward and pulls the tissue paper out of the way. The box isn't overly deep, but as soon as she's done it, her stomach turns and her face goes beat-red.

Hurriedly, she shoves the paper back into the box and tries to tuck it into all the corners, covering the black lace that's lying in the bottom of the box.

A quick glance up tells her that it's too late for a few more attentive students. They've seen far more than she would have liked, and she's afraid she's scarred them for life.

She clears her throat and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear before smoothing her hands over the front of her shirt, pulling at the waist of her skirt, and making sure that she's all tucked in. "I'm sorry; I'll just be one moment, and then we'll get back to our lesson."

Her face is absolutely on fire and her hands are slightly shaking. The knots in her stomach have to be the size of fists.

She picks up the phone on her desk and jabs the keys four times, dialing Ezra's room, then pulls the cord and turns around so that her back is to the class.

It rings a few times before he picks up, and when he does, he sounds all too relaxed.

"Do you have any idea what I just opened in front of my entire class?" she mumbles into the phone under her breath.

"Oh, did you get it? I thought you might like this one. Sorry; it's heavier than the others. I don't think you'll be able to hang it on your walls. I figured maybe you could display it on a bookshelf."

"I don't know what you're talking about, but what I opened is definitely not something I want to display anywhere in my classroom."

She hears a few snickers from behind her and a murmur of whispers pick up. She turns around and gives them a death glare – one she usually reserves for her toddler when she's misbehaving.

There's a beat of dead air over the receiver before she can hear an intake of breath and Ezra says, "Oh my god," followed by a light laugh.

"I have no idea what you find so funny," she says. She turns back around so that her back is to the class and she's speaking into the wall in front of her. "I could get in serious trouble for this. So could you!"

"It was an accident; I'm sorry Just…put it in your bag and open it at home."

"I already opened it here!" she says, her voice carrying more loudly than she meant it to. This time she dares to laugh about it. "So where's the actual poster?"

"Let's just say, for the first time, I decided to get a collector's poster, and it came in a box that looks very much like another box…one that should not be opened in front of a class."

"Obviously," she says, rolling her eyes.

"I guess it's on our bed, at home." He laughs again and Aria shakes her head on the other end of the phone, trying her hardest not to smile. "I'm sorry," he says, going on. "I must have grabbed the wrong one when I took it to the FedEx guy yesterday. I…the boxes are really similar and the poster isn't that heavy – it's just in a little frame."

There's a commotion behind her and she turns her head. "Sit down, Avery, I did not give you permission to get up and out of your seat." She feels her face grow beat-red again as she remembers all the listening ears…and observant eyes. Without saying another word, she pinches the receiver between her head and her shoulder and folds to box up again before stowing it below her desk, putting her purse on top of it for good measure. Just in case the burning lace garment within should cause the flaps of the box to come billowing open.

"Well, I guess I'll see you after the final bell," she says quietly. "You're going to pay for this, you know."

"Yes, ma'am," he says, coyly. "I intend to."

"Oh my god, Ezra, don't you have a class?"

"Yes, and so do you." She can feel him smile through the phone.

"Talk later?"

"Yeah," he says.

She pulls the phone away from her ear and lets it click back into the base.

She licks her lips, then pushes them together, absentmindedly wishing she had Chap Stick. She looks out over the sea of students before her – a few who were quick enough to see inside the box are trying their absolute hardest not to laugh. She shakes her head and closes her eyes, trying not to laugh herself.

"We're on page forty-two, I believe." She opens her eyes. "Avery, since you were feeling antsy enough to get out of your seat without permission, you can pick back up where we left off. Explain to me what the bridge symbolizes – and please don't just repeat what I said. Actually expand on our answer."

The awkwardness takes a few minutes to subside, but eventually it does. She's honestly not sure if they get the idea of symbolism or not. She's too busy trying to decide if she should expect phone calls from parents, and debating whether or not it would be professional to forward those calls to Ezra if they do come through.

In the end, she figures these phone calls are better than the calls he could have received when she was his student and they were sleeping together – and he sort of owes her for the goof up anyway. It'll teach him to pay more attention when sending personal mail to her at work.

R&R! 3