#mat-write

As the meeting drew to a close, a dapper man with slicked-back chestnut hair and a car salesman smile stepped into the room. Astarion went stiff like a cat puffing up to defend itself. The dapper man just gave him a plasticky, knowing smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

The dean perked up a bit as he noticed the man lingering in the back of the room. “Raphael, what a pleasant surprise! I had no idea you would be joining us,” he exclaimed, “We were just finishing up. Are there any words of wisdom you’d like to impart to our humanities faculty?”

“Oh, nothing so important,” Raphael said, and suddenly Gale understood why Astarion was so on edge. Everything about the man oozed with a disingenuous charm that made Gale’s hair stand on end. “I just realized I forgot to send out a notice about the upcoming donor gala the next coming Friday. I realized you were all in a meeting right now, so I thought I’d pop in and remind you in person.”

Raphael’s eyes landed directly on Astarion as he spoke his next sentence. “There is a reasonable expectation that faculty attend these events.” Out of the corner of his eye, Gale saw Astarion’s expression go steely. “After all, we want to show up and show out for the people who allow us to do so much.”

“Of Course!” The dean chirped. “I know I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

The meeting adjourned, and Astarion immediately made a break for the door. Gale hurriedly gathered his things in one arm, instinctually following after the only person in the room he really knew, like a baby duck.

Raphael stepped into Astarion’s path before he could get out of the meeting room. “Ah, we meet again, Dr. Ancunín!” Raphael’s voice dripped with sugary contempt. “I will see you at the donor gala, won’t I?”

“Perhaps. Are you thinking about calling in that favor I owe you?” Astarion’s voice was clipped, his face unnervingly blank.

“I think I’d like to wait on that a little longer, but I would like you there in case I change my mind.” Before Astarion could respond, Raphael’s gaze slid off him and onto- “Dr. Dekarios! Wonderful to see you. Are you settling in well?” He reached out a hand to him.

Gale stuffed his legal pad into his work so he could shake Raphael’s hand. “Exceptionally well!” he replied. “Everyone’s done their utmost to make me feel very welcome!”

“Oh, you don’t have to fib on your new colleagues’ account, Dr. Dekarios. I’m more than familiar with how surly certain members of the English department can get.” Raphael laughed congenially, but Astarion shot him a poisonous look.

“I’m not lying to you, sir,” Gale replied. “Astarion’s been nothing but professional.”

“Well, perhaps he’s going a bit soft.” There was a flash of something dangerous behind his eyes. He turned to Astarion. “I shall see you next Friday.” It was a command more than a farewell, but he walked away all the same.

Astarion muttered under his breath. Gale didn’t catch what he said but could make an educated guess. Astarion exhaled a deep breath like he was equalizing pressure.

He turned to Gale and said, “Thank you.”

Gale blinked. “Of course.”

Astarion opened his mouth to say something else, but the words couldn’t or wouldn’t form.

Shadowheart stepped in between them, too concerned with responding to a text message to notice the weird tension. “Karlach wants to get drinks.” She said. “She got stuck in traffic and doesn’t want to drive all the way down here for nothing.”

“Roveer’s?” Astarion asked, a very weary resignation in his voice.

“Yes, probably.”

“Nothing like running into your students at a sports bar a week before classes start…” Astarion grumbled. “Fine. Let me finish here, and I’ll meet you there in, oh… 15 minutes.” He turned to Gale. “Are you coming?”

“To the office?”

Astarion gave him a perplexed look. “To the bar.” He clarified. “You should take the opportunity to meet Karlach.”

Gale could feel himself going bright red as Shadowheart snickered. “Right. Yes. I would love to.” He replied.

“I’ll let Karlach know you’re coming. She’ll be thrilled.” Shadowheart replied, giving Gale a warm smile. “I’ll go lock up. See you in a bit.”

“Come on then.” Astarion replied, nodding for Gale to follow him.

***

The all-hand meeting was on the third floor, so by the time they’d returned to the basement and back up a floor to leave, Gale was starting to fear his knees wouldn’t survive the week- let alone the semester. “There has to be an elevator in this building.” Gale huffed and puffed as he hoofed it up the last flight of stairs. He didn’t want his new colleague’s first impression of him to be of him on his hands and knees wheezing. “I can’t take much more of this…”

“There is, but personally I don’t like chancing it unless I really don’t want to be in a meeting.” Astarion slowed to a stop at the top of the stairs to wait for him. He didn’t seem any worse for wear, but he also seemed much trimmer than Gale was- or at the very least, his shirt accentuated the pleasing nip of his waist. Gale wondered if Astarion was a swimmer. “A history adjunct got stuck in it overnight a few years past, and it still reeks a little bit when it gets hot enough.”

Gale laughed, but Astarion very pointedly did not.

The conversation lulled a little bit.

“Do you mind if I ask you something?” Gale asked.

“That entirely depends on what you want to ask.” Astarion stepped into the hallway, taking a moment to slip into his grey wool peacoat before they ventured outside.

“Raphael, is he always…”

“Such an ass?” Astarion finished his thought. Gale wouldn’t have used such a strong word, but Astarion had gotten the spirit of the question right, at least. “He’s usually much worse.”

“Oh?”

“He’s a glorified middleman with too much power and time on his hands.” Astarion scoffed. “He enjoys putting things in people’s way and watching them try to wriggle their way out of problems he created. My advice is to deal with him as little as possible.”

“Is he who you went to talk to earlier?”

Astarion gave him a poisonous look that only confirmed Gale’s suspicion.

They walked across campus in uneasy silence. The bitterly cold wind whipped and whistled, tossing the last remnants of fall leaves across the concourse. The few student residents who’d gotten in that morning had either decided to hold up in their rooms or were enjoying their free time in more exciting corners of town. Gale found himself wondering what Xenia was doing... He hoped she wasn’t all alone in an empty dorm.

“Does Xenia have many friends?” Gale asked as they approached a crosswalk leading to the block of shops across from campus.

“Hm?” Astarion tapped the pedestrian-call button, which commanded them to ‘wait!’ in a mechanical voice. “I think she probably has more friends than she realizes she does. Kids like her tend to think they’re alone in everything.”

“Poor kid… Seems like she’s been through enough.” Gale sighed. There was something heartbreaking in the phrase ‘kids like her.’ It was sad to think that there were more 19-year-olds out there carrying emotional burdens far too heavy for their age- sadder still to think that if there weren’t, then Xenia would be alone.

“She’ll figure herself out eventually. She’s not like…” Astarion paused, seemingly a little shocked by what he was about to say. He leveled a wary glance at Gale. “She’s not a quitter, I mean.”  

“I’m sure she’s not. I just hope she doesn’t run herself ragged.” The walk light flashed, and they hurried across the street.

***

They were comedically out of place in Roveer’s Roadhouse. A group of grown adults in Oxford dress crowding around a sticky Bud-Lit branded high top surrounded by a bevy of flatscreen monitors playing every sports broadcast under the sun. Shadowheart was already nursing a syrupy cocktail out of a chipped margarita glass.

An extremely tall woman with a red tipped mohawk and smiling eyes bounded over to Gale and clapped a firmly friendly hand on his shoulder. “You’re the new Adjunct, I take it?” She asked. “I’m Karlach, Professor Cliffgate, if you’re nasty.”

“Gale Dekarios.” He reached out to shake her hand. She fist-bumped him instead, and Gale got a glimpse of a nasty burn scar peeking out from the sleeve of her jacket. “It’s a pleasure!”

“Aw, I have a great-aunt named Gale!” Karlach replied.

“I get that a lot…” Gale sighed. “I like your hair!”

“Thanks!” Karlach tussled her own hair. “Told my kiddos they could pick what color I dyed it if they all passed their benchmarks.”

“Does Balduran give benchmarks?”

“Oh, no. Teaching university is my side gig,” Karlach replied. “I’m actually a full-time middle school teacher.”

A spindly girl with bleach-blonde hair pulled into space buns sidled up to the table, clutching a notepad. “Can I take your order?” She seemed quite put upon being asked to do actual work on a slow day.

“Vodka Soda,” Astarion replied, holding his ID out to the server.

She took it and dropped it in her apron, jotted something down on her notepad, and turned to Gale with an expectant look.

“I’ll, uh, take a Corona,” Gale replied. He’d never ordered a Corona in his life, but it seemed like an acceptable ‘getting drinks with colleagues’ kind of an order.

The server stood there staring at him a moment long before she asked, “ID?”

“Oh, um…” Gale patted for his wallet and realized he left it in his desk drawer. “I didn’t realize I would need it…”

“You didn’t realize you’d need an ID at a college bar?” Astarion asked dryly as he turned to the server. “Just put it on my tab.”

The server nodded and walked away without asking if they needed anything else.

“Wow Gale, just one day on the job, and you’re already bumming free drinks off the department chair.” Shadowheart teased. She took a sip of her drink crinkling her nose at the taste.

Gale flustered. “I-I was going to pay with my phone, I swear! I wasn’t planning this.”

“Relax. We’re not so underpaid that I can’t afford to buy you one beer.” Astarion rolled his eyes. “You can return the favor when you get your first paycheck.”

Gale blushed. “Alright.”

The server brought them their drinks without another word, then plopped down at the end of the bar to scroll on her phone. Gale pushed the lime through the neck of his beer bottle and watched it fizz as it sank to the bottom of the dubiously golden liquid.

“So, did I miss anything important at the all-hands?” Karlach asked idly, stirring her bourbon and coke.

“You know you didn’t,” Shadowheart replied. “We’re changing timecard systems, and Raphael and Astarion are in another one of their weird power struggles-there, I saved you an hour and a half.”

Karlach’s eyes lit up, and she turned towards Astarion. “Before the semester even starts?” There was a conspiratorial glee in her voice. “What the fuck could he have possibly done this time?”

“Why spoil the mood by ruminating on that rat bastard?” Astarion said. He picked the lemon slice out of his drink and laid it on a napkin. “I’ll tell you later.”

“Fair.” Karlach shrugged. She turned back to Gale and fixed him with a warm smile. “So, Gale, what brings you to the wonderful world of higher education?”

Gale had thought a lot about what he would tell people when they asked him why he wanted to teach college. He’d written little speeches in the shower about the joys of teaching language and the satisfaction of helping students reach their goal, but sitting in a group of other English professors, that suddenly all felt very trite.

“I was a public librarian, but I had to step away from my last position when I got divorced.” He admitted. “I found a job at a community college teaching database management, and I realized I’d just always missed teaching.” He took a long pull of his beer. The sour of the lime battled with the bitterness of the beer on his tongue.

“Library science might be a harder industry to break into than academia. It must have been tough to leave that behind.” Astarion mused.

“I do miss it terribly sometimes… but my ex helped me get into graduate school and got me my first library job. If I stayed, I would never be able to make anything that was truly mine.” Gale sighed. He could see the wheels spinning in Shadowheart’s head as she tried to figure out his age.

“You talk like you’re as old as this bag of bone,” Karlach pointed a thumb at Astarion, who glared daggers at her. “But there’s no way you’re that old.”

“I’m 35.” Gale clarified.

“That’s a little bit older than I thought, but still nowhere near as old as Astarion,” Shadowheart said.

“You are barely two years younger than me.” Astarion snapped.

“Barely a decade older than Gale, too.” Shadowheart shot back.

Astarion rolled his eyes and muttered something into his drink. “Did you go to get your master’s straight out of undergrad?” he asked.

“Yes, why?”

Astarion shrugged. “That’s just quite young to be with someone that well-established in their field.”

“Oh, we didn’t get together until I graduated.” That wasn’t entirely true. They didn’t get together publicly until he graduated. He didn’t know why he was still defending Mystra. It wasn’t like any of his new colleagues would ever meet her.

“I wasn’t trying to imply anything…” Astarion lied.

“Of course not.”

They both took a sip of their drink, holding awkward eye contact.

“Well, here’s to making something for yourself then,” Shadowheart said, holding her drink out to Gale for a cheers.

“Um… Gale Dekarios, office B126.”

Mizora gave him a dubious look as she flipped rather leisurely through the yellowed pages of her ledger. “Hmm… That name doesn’t sound familiar. What subject do you teach exactly?”

“English?”

Mizora nodded, skimming down a line of office numbers with her finger. “…B1 is the English office block, but I can’t say I recognize you.”

“Well, I just started this semester…”

"Likely story." Mizora looked up from her sheet with narrowed eyes. “I’ll need your faculty ID card.”

“I’m, uh, afraid that’s with my office keys…” Gale admitted sheepishly. He held up his briefcase. “I’ve still got a few syllabi with my name on them, that should prove-“

“As an employee of Balduran University, you are required to keep employee identification on you at all times.” She snapped. “I have to assume all other forms of ID are fabrications.”

“I clearly didn’t mean to leave it in my office.” Gale let out an exasperated sigh. “What if you came with me, and I showed you my ID once you left me in my office?”

Mizora put a hand over her chest as Gale had just said something absolutely precious. “Dr. Dekarios… If that is your real name-“

“It is.”

“We’ll see.” Mizora flicked her wrist dismissively. “But if you are who you say you are, then surely you understand the particular faculty member you're sharing a space with is… shall we say, rather prone to turbulent romantic entanglements.” Her eyes shined with strange glee. “Surely you understand that I can’t just let a stranger into his office- That could be incredibly improper.”

Gale flushed an indignant shade of red. His heart jittered with some strange emotion. He didn’t much appreciate hearing these kinds of things about Astarion behind his back- it felt indecent. “I don’t know what you’re trying to accuse me of exactly, but I assure you we are just coworkers.”

“Not that it’s stopped him before… but you’re right, I suspect you’re not much of his type.” Mizora looked him up and down with appraising eyes that made Gale feel wholly undressed. “… You seem a bit old.”

A strange pit formed in Gale’s stomach, something like shame. “I don’t see how any of this is appropriate or relevant to the matter at hand.” He huffed. “Can’t you just-”

The office door swung open, and a young man with neatly laid braids cautiously stepped into the room, a manilla folder in one hand and a coffee cup carrier in the other. Mizora’s demeanor somehow got even more foul at the sight of him- a feat Gale wouldn't think her capable of if he didn't see it happen.

The young man glanced over at Gale. “Am I interrupting?”

“Oh, no-”

“Well, you’ve already barged in, Wyll. You might as well get it over with.” Mizora snapped.

He held out the manila folder, and Gale spied a sticky note stuck to the top of it that said, ‘Distribute to ALL liberal arts department chairs.’ “Dr. Silverwarden just wanted me to drop off the schedule for the athletics study hall-”

Mizora curled her nose like Wyll had offered her a dead squirrel. “Oh, is that harlot making students do her busy work for her now? Had a baby, and now she’s too good to walk to another building?”

“I was just- I offered-” Wyll opened his mouth to stammer out an answer, but Gale stepped in between the two of them before he could chicken out.

“That’s hardly an appropriate tone to take with a student.”

Mizora’s eyes flashed incandescent, and she fixed Gale with a look that probably should have turned him into a pile of ash. “Oh, are you going to tell me how to do my job now ‘Dr. Dekarios’? After you locked your keys in your office like an utter moron.” She snatched the folder out of Wyll’s hand and tossed it on a surface behind her. “Why don’t you leave before I call security and tell them that a strange man is trying to get into a department chair’s office?”

Gale threw his hands in the air like he was being held at gunpoint. “Alright, alright, I’ll leave.” He exited the office with Wyll hot on his heels.

He scrubbed his hands over his face, daunted by the prospect that he would have to track down Astarion somehow when Wyll tapped him on the shoulder. Gale startled like a trapped hare.

“I’m sorry, but are you trying to get into a locked room?” Wyll asked a trimmer of something tentative and excited in his voice. “Because I can help with that!”

Gale raised an eyebrow. He probably shouldn’t be asking a student to break the school code for him, but it wasn’t like he had any other options. “Alright, do you have a spare key?”

Wyll smiled precociously. “Something like that.”

Ominous. But Gale led him back down to his office nonetheless.

“So, you’re the new English professor?” Wyll asked. He handed his tray of coffee to Gale as they reached the office door so he could rummage around for something in his backpack. “If I’d known I was going to run into you, I would have gotten you a coffee too!”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that. I can’t, with good conscience, ask a student to pay for my coffee.”

“I don’t pay for it!” Wyll assured him as he pulled a small nail file and a mangled bobby pin out of a side pocket. “I worked at the campus coffee house a couple of semesters ago, and the manager never deactivated my free drink code.”

Wyll wiggled the bobby pin into the lock, and Gale looked around frantically as he realized what was happening.

“Wyll, are you sure about this?” Gale muttered as a random student waiting in the hall glanced at them curiously.

“Yeah, it’s fine. Dr. Ancunín's the one who taught me how to do this!” Wyll stabbed the nail file into the lock and turned. There was a loud pop as the lock disengaged. “If you ask, he’ll probably teach you too. He says all the locks on campus were bought in bulk, so they all have a similar flaw that makes them easy to pick.”

“Why does Dr. Ancunín know how to pick locks?”

“He wouldn’t say.” He dropped his lock-pick tools back in their side pocket and pushed himself off his knees, brushing his pants off. “But it keeps me from having to ask Mizora when I need to get into a classroom.”

“She’s charming, isn’t she?” Gale handed the coffees back to Wyll. “Does she talk to everyone like that?”

A bitter laugh escaped Wyll’s lips. “No, I’m just her favorite, I guess.” He checked his watch and started a little bit. “Oh, I’m going to be late!” He slung his backpack over his shoulder and half-jogged back down the hallway. He paused before he stepped into the stairwell. “It was nice to meet you, Dr. Dekarios!”

***

G: What the fuck is her problem?

Astarion had to stifle a bark of laughter in front of the students trickling in. Xenia had slipped in at some point, settling in her usual spot: The back corner of the classroom, far from the notice of her peers or teachers. She was trying to skirt around Astarion’s notice too.

A: Did you get back in the office, at least? G: No thanks to Mizora.

Wyll stepped into the room with a sheepish smile and handed him a lukewarm to-go cup of coffee. “Sorry, I’m late.” He whispered.

Astarion took a long sip of his coffee. It was a blonde roast with a splash of milk -he wouldn’t usually bother with the milk, but the teenage baristas tended to burn their shots. “I suppose I can forgive you this once.”

Wyll laughed, but he was already scanning the classroom for someone else. Xenia looked up from the notebook she was pretending to scribble in and gave Wyll a little wave, a tentative smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

Ah, so that was it.

Wyll sidled past the students in the front row to hand Xenia the second cup in his Coffee tray. They beamed at each other the way only school kids could as they talked about something mundane, like the weather or the walk-up from the dorms. Xenia toyed with the end of her braid while Wyll leaned closer and closer over the desk.

He would be good for her.

Better than the crowd Astarion had thrown himself into the instant he got out from under his dearest father’s thumb, at any rate.

Astarion conspicuously cleared his throat and motioned for Wyll to take his spot at the front of the classroom. “This is 1204 Sophomore Survey of Modern British Literature.” He fixed Xenia with a hard stare that she desperately tried to ignore. “If that is not the class you are expecting to be in, I highly suggest you make a swift exit now.”

A different student dozing off in the back of the class startled and ran out of the room.

There was always one every semester.

Astarion went through the same monolog he did at the beginning of every class. The rhythm and cadence were as familiar as a hymn. He grew up in London and graduated from Cambridge. His office hours were posted on the syllabus, but please try to schedule appointments beforehand. This course required a textbook, but most of the readings could be found online for free.

He turned the floor over to Wyll for about five minutes so he could explain what a supplemental instructor was, then closed out by letting a few students speak on what British literature they were familiar with, and as usual, most of them grumbled about how they had to read Shakespeare in high school and how much they hated it because they couldn’t understand the language. One girl threw up her hands in despair when he informed her that she would have to read Romeo and Juliet for a second time, but she was placated when he promised her there wouldn’t be any Chaucer (He wondered what sadist of a world lit teacher she had in high school that made 16-year-olds read middle English). One boy had a Welsh grandmother who loved T.S. Eliot and read him Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats when he visited in the summer. Astarion refrained from informing him that T.S. Eliot was actually an American.

But for the most part, the class had very little love for British authors—which wasn’t much of a surprise for a mixed major intro-level course—and nearly everyone was here because they had a humanities credit to fill. Really, the only one who wasn’t was probably Xenia… who was here because Wyll was here.

Astarion closed the class by assigning a short reading on the importance of literature studies that he already knew no one would read and dismissed the class. Xenia went for her usual speedy exit from the room, but Astarion headed her off at the pass.

“Just a moment Ms. Bellona, I need a quick word.”

She froze like a statue, and the football player behind her nearly tripped over her.

“I really don’t think I have the time,” she said smoothly. She was learning that she didn’t have to yield to her professors the way she did her high school teachers, but she didn't quite have the courage to openly disobey him yet. Ah, sophomores were his favorite.

“I won’t take up too much of your time.”

Xenia’s shoulders slumped, and she skulked over to his lectern, grumbling something under her breath.

“Oh, don’t be so sour.” Astarion scoffed. “You’re not in trouble.”

“Then why do you make it sound like I am?”

“That’s just his accent,” Wyll explained as he organized his stack of availability surveys to stick in his bag. “It makes everything sound more severe.”

Astarion rolled his eyes. “I will see you tomorrow, Mr. Ravengard.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Wyll made his way out of the room and paused at the door. “By the way, Lydia wanted me to let you know the study hall schedule is posted.” He said before disappearing into the hallway.

“Since when is he on a first-name basis with Dr. Silverwarden?” Astarion mused.

Xenia shrugged. “He calls Professor Cliffgate by her first name, too.”

“Yes, well, they’re technically colleagues now- It’s no matter.” He switched gears. “Xenia, dearest, why are you in another Sophomore literature class? You technically haven’t completed the first one.”

She went steely. “I’ve been thinking about picking up an English minor. My advisor said that it would go well with my current degree plan.”

“The advising office might be fighting over a singular brain cell, but I’m almost certain they would have told you to take a technical writing minor for a psychology degree.”

“What if I took up a literature minor because I like literature?”

“Then I’d tell you you shouldn’t waste your time.”

“Isn’t that a little hypocritical of you?”

“No, because I was already independently wealthy outside of my education choices. You should focus on a field where you can get a job.”

“Aren’t professors supposed to encourage students to follow their passions?”

“If you’re trying to follow your passions, my dear, there are easier ways to spend time with Wyll.”

Xenia turned red from her neck to the tips of her ears. “I- I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She huffed, zipping up her jacket as if Astarion could literally see into her heart. “We’re just friends- He’s helping me get back on the fencing team in the fall, that’s all!”

Astarion raised his coffee cup to his lips, swallowing back the dregs at the bottom. “Does he buy coffee for all his friends, then?”

Something vexed and nervous swam in Xenia’s dark eyes, and she hurriedly tossed her cup into a nearby trashcan. “He bought you coffee too, by that logic-”

Astarion held up a hand to silence her. “Don’t even imply that.” He scolded. “Wyll brings me coffee because I’m technically his boss, and he likes going above and beyond. I suspect he brings you coffee because he likes to see you happy.”

“I think you’re just reaching.” Her voice wavered in a way that made Astarion feel a little guilty for pushing.

“Maybe, but I’ve watched a lot of students catch crushes in my tenure.”

Her jaw tensed, and her gaze drifted out the window for a brief moment. “Is this all you wanted to talk about?”

“You’re already in a precarious situation regarding your student finances. I just thought I should say something.” Astarion shrugged. “I’m not trying to upset you.”

“Thank you for your concern, but I can take care of myself.” Xenia’s voice was flat and irritated. She slipped her finger under the pad of her messenger bag’s strap and adjusted it into a more comfortable position on her shoulder. “I guess I’ll email you if I have any questions about my work.”

“Alright, have a good afternoon.” Astarion let her leave, then let out a deep sigh.

Idiot kid.

He went to gather his lecture notes when Gale called. He thought about letting it go to voicemail -whatever it was could probably wait the 5 minutes it would take to get back to their office- but something about the situation nagged him a little bit.

He picked up.

“Do you miss the sound of my voice this much?”

“I- uh, what?” Gale sounded panicked on the other end.

“Is something wrong?”

“The faculty lounge is flooding.”

The mornings were when Astarion missed Lydia the most- not necessarily the banal domestic conversation, but the commotion of her in his house. Her inscrutable taste in music and the sound of her knocking around in the kitchen filled the void of silence in a far more alive way than the soft whisper-drone of NPR. It was also harder to fall back into old habits when someone else was there watching him.

His phone buzzed as he was finishing his coffee.

Speak of the devil, and she shall appear.

L: Hey, probably a stupid question.

Her name was still in his phone the way she’d saved it when they first met, as ‘Lydia 🖤😈’ and Astarion thought, as he did every time she reached out for something, that he should probably change that before the wrong person saw it.

L: Is there a purple and white cabochon earring lying around your bedroom somewhere? L: The last time I can remember wearing them I ended up at yours.

Astarion picked up his phone and typed a reply.

A: I know I have one of your earrings in my car cupholder.

A: I keep meaning to get it back to you. I’ll send it along with Wyll if you’d like.

She replied a few minutes later.

L: Absolutely do not do that. L: I’ll just run by your office L: God. L: You’re going to make the kids think I’m having an affair.

 Astarion read the text and put his phone down, intending to end the conversation, but then something clicked in his mind.

A: Hey. A: You worked at a DSS to put yourself through medical school, didn’t you?

L: ooOOOoo

L: You must REALLY need something if you’re willing to admit that sports medicine is real medicine😏😏😏

A: Answer the question, Silverwarden. L: I did. L: But I was an admin not a coordinator, so my knowledge is limited L: You might be better off talking to Isobel

L: She’s very nice! I can introduce you if you’ve never met! A: I’m an English professor, I’ve met the ADA coordinator. A: I need your discretion. A: Can you tell me why a student’s mental health deferment might get rejected? L: Is this about Xenia? L: It’ll be easier to explain if you call me.

Astarion checked his watch before he clicked on her contact information to call her. The phone rang a few times before she picked up. He heard a squawking toddler and the last snatch of her previous conversation: ‘…It’s just a student thing… Alright, see you tonight. I love you.’

“Hello, Mr. Goodman! Are you going to Vemo me a dollar, or shall I?” Lydia had an unhurried lilting voice, with a touch of a southern accent that made her swallow her ‘o’s and ‘t’s.

“What?”

“It’s a- never mind!” she huffed. “Have you consumed a single piece of media produced in this century? You fucking crypt keeper.”

 “Sometimes I have to review Jenevelle’s assigned reading choices for appropriateness.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He could tell she was nodding the way she did when he missed her point. “‘And so I Anal Douche While Kesha’s ‘Praying’ Plays From My iPhone on Repeat,’ I remember. She scandalized half the football team with that one.”

“The American Football team could stand to get scandalized more,” Astarion replied. “How are your little brats doing?”

As if on cue, there was another toddler squeal in the background. “Ruby took her first steps last fall, and Clem’s learning how to crawl exceptionally early, but I suspect you don’t actually care.”

He didn’t dignify that with a response. “Why would the DSS reject Xenia’s deferment?”

“So that’s the thing: They wouldn’t. The DSS covers ADA accommodations for students with documented disabilities; a sudden injury would not be under their purview,” Lydia explained, putting on her lecture voice. “The decision to defer a student’s financial aid awards would go to the university’s finance board—I think? It may go to the board of directors.”

“That’s not what Raphael told me.” Astarion pressed his tongue against his canine until it started to sting.

“I know you're not going to like to hear this, but Raphael may genuinely not know,” and she was quite right; Astraion was going to be pissed if he found out he'd been bluffed into his current predicament. “Disability services is an incredibly complex field- both necessarily and unnecessarily so. It’s still pretty unusual for a student’s medical deferment to get rejected… Can I ask what your interest in this is?”

“I’ve found a channel to contest the decision, but I want to make sure it’s at least a somewhat viable option before I drag Xenia into more bureaucracy.”

“hmm… I knew you two would get along.” Lydia replied, quite satisfied with herself. “You have a very similar energy.”

Astarion sighed. He knew someone had referred Xenia to his sophomore survey class last semester; he'd just never figured out who. “I suppose we both have that ‘father used to beat me’ twinkle in our eyes.”

“Don’t put those words in my mouth!” Lydia exclaimed. “I meant you both have a similar…” She groped for the right words, “…surviverly quality about yourselves.”

“Will to survive?” Astarion corrected her.

“Whatever!” She snapped.

“Do you know why Xenia might have been rejected?”

“Speculatively?” Lydia asked.

“No, I’m asking you to read someone’s mind.” Astarion quipped.

“I answered your call in front of my husband for this, you know?”

Astarion sighed again. “If he’s not comfortable with you talking to your exes, he probably should not have married someone who fucked their coworker.”

“Do you want my help, or did you call me just to snipe?”

“Fine… please speculate. Why would someone’s medical deferment be rejected?”

“Well, if I had to guess… Xenia was sort of a high-profile get for the university. And given her history, I think it’s pretty safe to say that incident-” she paused as if she wasn’t sure she was allowed to say the next part. “-I think that incident last fall was probably a suicide attempt.”

There was a beat of grim silence. When the news came down, everyone had made that assumption, but no one was brave enough to put words to the thought.

Astarion hummed in acknowledgment. “So, you think the school rejected her medical deferment over bad publicity?”

“I think it would turn into a massive media circus if that got out, yes,” Lydia replied. “They may be trying to push her into dropping out.”

“Do you think it’s worth it to challenge?” Astarion asked.

“I don’t know,” Lydia sighed. “At the very least, it would probably be good to have as a precedent if she ends up having to sue the school… You could always just ask her what she wants to do. Poor kid might be too tired for all of this.” 

“Fair.” Astarion pondered her words for a moment.

“Can I help you with anything else?” She asked.

“That’s all for now,” Astarion replied. “…Thank you, by the way. You don’t have to stick your neck out for me anymore, you know?”

“I know,” Lydia replied. “I did this because I wanted to. You’re still my friend -despite everything, I care about you.”

She hung up. Astarion’s phone screen went black. The house was silent again.

***

Gale got stuck in horrible traffic on his first day and ended up arriving 30 minutes late for his morning office hours. He skipped past dropping his lunch off in the breakroom fridge and rushed straight to the office, absolutely mortified that he was so late for his first proper day of class. He was so frazzled he had to double back to grab his coffee from the car.

It wasn’t like there would be anyone there waiting on him- a grand total of one student who knew who he was-, but it certainly made a bad impression to show up late on the first day of class.

Astarion was both bemused and incredibly entertained as he watched Gale flit around their office like a very flustered tornado, trying to cram one hour of planning into the thirty minutes he had remaining.

“You’re going to be fine.” Astarion had assured him. “It’s syllabus week, no one’s expecting Judith Buttler.”

Gale still left for his class 10 minutes early -just in case his classroom had teleported to a different dimension since he last visited it. It hadn’t. It turned out the room was exactly where he’d left it at the end of a strange little corridor in the library, and in fact, there were already two students waiting for him.

Xenia sat near the back of the classroom, wearing the facial expression of a kitten that was being petted too hard, as a pinch-faced, red-headed young woman combed her fingers through the knots in her hair.

“I can’t believe you’re not embarrassed to go out in public looking like this.” The pinch-faced woman scolded.

“It’s ha-ard to brush my hair with my non-dominant hand…” Xenia’s eyes bulged out of her head as the woman pulled her fingers through a particularly difficult knot.

“Chk. I’ll put it in a braid then, so you aren’t struggling to brush it.”  She started dividing Xenia’s dark hair into sections no more gently than she’d detangled it.

“Hello Xenia, It’s good to see you again. How are you doing?” Gale asked as he set his satchel down behind the podium.

“Oh, I’ve been worse… I’ve also been better- Lae’zel, that hurts!”  She squealed as the pinched-faced woman, Lae’zel apparently, tugged the braid tight.

“Then sit still so it will end faster.” Lae’zel scolded her. “I have younger siblings that squirm less than you, and they’re still in diapers.”

“I guess you’ll have to work on instilling more terror in my heart then,” Xenia replied. She gripped the edges of her desk with white knuckles as Lae’zel wrenched her head back.

Lae’zel hummed as if that was a legitimate suggestion. “Yes, I think we would have a much stronger working relationship if you feared me just a little more…”

Lae’zel finally let go of Xenia, who let out a breath like she’d narrowly avoided being hit by a bus as she pulled a few face-framing pieces from the clutches of her new French braid. Lae'zel turned her sights on Gale- though he desperately hoped it wasn't because she was planning on braiding his hair, too. “You must be the new English adjunct.”

“Yes, I’m Dr. Dekarios!” Gale replied. “You must be Lae’zel? The athletic director speaks very highly of you.”

“As he should.” Lae’zel nodded like he’d just given her the correct answer in an oral exam. “You should know that I designed to take this course this semester because I thought it would be taught by Dr. Ancunín rather than Dr. Shadowheart. I will be quite displeased with you if your teaching methods are as frivolous and unstructured as Shadowheart’s.”

Xenia’s eyes went wide, and her mouth formed a silent ‘Oh’ sound as she looked back and forth between Gale and Lae’zel.

“I can’t say that I’ve ever had the pleasure of watching Dr. Shadowheart teach, so I don't know how our teaching methods compare, but I will not deign to be frivolous or unstructured.” Gale laughed nervously.

“I think she is perfectly competent as a professor of literature, but she does quite poorly with the more structured elements of the genera. Dr. Ancunín does not fare much better, but he is preferable to Shadowheart.” Lae’zel explained as if Gale had genuinely asked her option. “You should know that thus far, you have not made a positive impression on me… you were quite late posting the syllabus.”

“My apologies, Lae’zel,” Gale replied, hand on heart. “I got let into my faculty account one week before the semester began.”

“Hm, yes.” Lae’zel considered his response. “This school does have abysmal technical support, so I shall let it slide this time.”

By that time, a few more students had filed in, and it was about time for class to start- or Gale was desperate not to hear any more unsolicited criticism of his colleagues. Astarion was right. The class went perfectly fine. He explained the structure of the course, and had everyone introduce themselves and state their major (he found out Xenia was there because she was a phycology major), before he explained the purpose of taking an upper level grammar and style.

“The purpose of learning advanced grammar is not to improve your everyday language… If the person you are talking to understands what you are saying, then there is nothing wrong with your grammar… Language should evolve to fit the speaker, the speaker should not evolve to fit the language… However, if you are going into a field like law or communication where you’ll be expected to use very precise language…”

It went by in a flash, and Gale could hardly remember if he got everything that he needed to into the lecture by the time class ended, but if anyone was unclear about anything, they didn’t let him know at the moment. He barely registers Xenia darting out of the room before he finishes saying, “Have a nice rest of your day.” A few people lingered to give him the heads up about things in their personal lives that might interfere with class, and one student wanted to know if he’d receive their letter of accommodation, but before long, there was a small congregation of people forming at the door waiting for Gale to leave so the next class can take over the space.

He walked back to his office with a spring in his step. He didn’t even mind that much when it started to pour rain, and he realized he had forgotten his umbrella in the car.

***

It wasn’t much dryer in the humanities building. Gale dodged around liner-less trash bins set up under bulging ceiling tiles dotting the hallway. In the break room, Karlach was holding a bookcase steady so Shadowheart could climb on top of it.

Gale paused and walked back to the breakroom to make sure he saw that right.

He did.

“Do you… need help with something?” he asked sheepishly.

“Nope, I think we’ve got it!” Karlach replied, ducking out of the way of one of Shadowheart’s heels. “Water pools in AC vents when it rains, so we have to bang on them a couple of times to make sure it doesn’t collapse.”

“O-oh?” Gale looked up and realized one of the panels of the overhead duct was swelling dangerously. “Shouldn’t we put in a work order?”

“Be my guest,” Shadowheart said. She precariously balanced on her knees, and Gale held his breath as the bookshelf wobbled underneath her. “But maintenance won’t get to it before the break room floods.”

She reached up and banged on the ductwork above her head, and the vent in the middle of the room started dribbling yellowish-brown water. Suddenly, there was a strange gurgling noise, then a thunk! as the panel popped back into proper shape.

“Great work, Jen!” Karlach whooped, holding out a hand to help Shadowheart jump down. They high-fived, and Shadowheart went about smoothing out her clothes, grumbling under her breath when she realized there was a massive run in her tights.

“This kind of thing happen often?” Gale asked.

“Only when it rains!” Karlach chirped. She checked her watch and immediately started towards the door. “Well, I’d love to stay and chat, but I’ve got to get to my day job.” She gave Gale a friendly pat on the shoulder as she passed him. “If the vents start to flood again, it’s your and fancy pants’ turn to fix it!”

“I don’t know if that bookshelf will support either of our weights…” Gale balked.

“Not with that attitude, soldier!” Karlach called as the stairwell door swung closed behind her.

“You can poke it with a handle broom until it corrects; it just takes longer,” Shadowheart assured him. “I’ve got to go switch tights before I get to my next class. I don’t know if you’ve had the displeasure of meeting her yet, but God forbid Lae’zel catches me with a run in my pantyhose.”

“Oh, so she does talk like that to your face then?” Gale replied. “I didn’t know if I should-”

“Talks like what- never mind, don’t tell me!” Shadowheart huffed. “I swear, after everything I’ve done for that girl- I’ll talk to you later!” She turned on her heels and followed Karlach up the stairs.

Gale sighed in relief, ready to hold up in his office for a little while. He reached into the front pocket of his satchel for his keys only to find it empty. Cursing under his breath, he thumbed through the things in the main pocket, hoping he’d accidentally mixed them in with everything else- nothing. Finally, he pulled out his phone only to find a series of texts from Astarion.

A: You left your keys.

Then, a little while later.

The problem with Korrilla was that Astarion never knew if she was in on Raphael’s torment or if she was just making a series of human mistakes because he made her nervous- though neither answer made the interaction any less annoying.

When Astarion got back to his office, Gale was still there. He was flipping through a heavily marked-up handbook on technical writing for business communications, staring at the pages as if he were either heavily engrossed by the reading -unlikely- or trying to light the damn thing on fire. It only made sense once he stepped into the room and saw Xenia posted up in the corner on her phone.

“Ah, Miss Bellona. Exactly who I was hoping to run into.” Astarion said, snapping the tension in the room like a loose thread. Gale nearly jumped out of his skin. “You look terrible.”

Xenia looked up at him with narrowed eyes, chewing one of her nails on her good hand. “I’ve had a rough few months.” She replied in that flat, desperately-trying-not-to-care tone that made her so fun to tease.

“I’ve heard. What do you need help with?” He slapped down his stack of paperwork on his desk and sat at his computer. Astarion saw Gale watching him wide-eyed, and he wondered how much Gale had pried while he was gone.

“I wanted to get the assignment sheets for my missing work from Survey of Gothic Literature,” Xenia said. Gale casually turned in his chair and pretended to rearrange the books on his shelf, giving them the courtesy of at least pretending to check-out of their conversation. “I thought I should get started on finishing that before the rest of my classes start…”

“Of course, you dropped off around Project… 4, was it? I think I kept a folder with your missing assignments somewhere.” With a few keystrokes, Astarion’s computer lurched back to life, fan buzzing as the machine recalibrated after being shut off for a month straight.

“I think the last thing I turned in was the 2nd character study…” Xenia replied. “…or maybe I just finished it- do you recall reading a paper from me about Miss Jessel?”

“I don’t, but I’ve read nearly a thousand bad-to-mediocre composition papers since then, so it’s likely I just forgot.” Astarion clicked through the expired Canvas shell to skim the grade book and determine which assignments he needed to pull.

“Oh, so my writing's mediocre?”

“I’m sorry, your 1200-word sophomore-level essay demonstrated a pure mastery of your craft. How foolish of me to forget when the beauty of your words brought me to tears.”  Astarion scoffed. He found the file folder he was looking for and printed it off. “Gale, I know you’re terribly busy, but could you grab those papers from the 2nd floor breakroom?”

“Absolutely!” Gale was on his feet and heading for before the request had fully left Astarion’s mouth. He gave Xenia a friendly smile. “Back in a flash!”

“Take your time.” The comment came out a lot more passive-aggressive than Astarion meant it. He watched Gale leave the room and listened for the stairwell door to open and close. Astarion turned back to Xenia. “What did you say to him?”

Xenia shrugged. “He asked about my dad, and I told him that I stabbed him to death.”

“Did you happen to… elaborate on that?”

“No, he didn’t ask.”

Astarion sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You know, if you want people to stop treating you like a freak, you’ll have to stop acting like one.”

Xenia crossed her good arm in front of herself and pouted. “It’s not like someone wouldn’t have told him anyways.”

“Probably, but even a complete stranger would make you seem at least a little saner,” Astarion replied.

Xenia went quiet for a moment, her lips twisting into a disgruntled snarl. Her eyes drifted to the water-stained ceiling tiles. Astarion sort of understood her twisted logic. There were a lot of people on campus who treated her like a ticking time bomb, regardless of whether they knew her exact circumstances or not. If people would be convinced that she was a monster regardless, perhaps it was better if she was the one doing the convincing- at least then she was in control. It hurts less to meet someone's rotten expectations than to try your hardest and fail to prove them wrong.

“I suppose you want to know what happened last semester?” she muttered.

“Tell me or don’t.” Astarion shrugged. “I could not care less.”

Xenia rolled her eyes. “You’re such a dick.”

“What I am is a mandatory reporter, so think carefully about what you want to tell me- unless you like filling out copious amounts of paperwork,” Astarion said. “Do you need the reading materials? I could just lend you my anthology since you’re the only one left in the class.”

“I’ve still got my book from last year…” Xenia replied, mind still very clearly elsewhere. “…Do you have siblings?”

Astarion paused. “Yes. 6 of them. Why?”

“How do you refer to them… like in your mind? Do you call them your siblings?”

“I don’t think of the much anymore, honestly. But I suppose when I do, I think of them as their first names.” Astarion sighed. “Is there something you actually wanted to talk to me about?”

“I’m having trouble figuring out how to think of my sister,” Xenia admitted. “I guess she was never really my sister, and she was never really to blame, but…”

“You’re allowed to be angry at her,” Astarion replied. “I think you should be, frankly.”

Xenia mulled over his words for a moment, and Astarion could see her run her tongue along the inside of her cheek, absent-mindedly tracing the contours of her scar. She opened her mouth to say something, but the door in the stairwell creaked open, and she clamed up, wary of being overheard.

***

Gale felt horribly selfish for wanting to bolt out of the office as badly as he did. He wanted Xenia to feel comfortable and safe around him -the poor thing seemed like she’d been through enough- but he’d locked up. It wasn’t difficult for Gale to surmise that she probably didn’t commit patricide for the fun of it- those kinds of actions are usually born out of extreme desperation. However, whenever he thought about trying to relate to her or lift the mood, the impulse was killed by some strange insistence that he was being too personal, too forthcoming, too intimate.

He envied the ease with which Astarion had struck up a rapport with her- it seemed that despite his posturing, Astarion did, in fact, have a few soft spots. Gale told himself that it was because Astarion had leagues more experience in these departments than he did, but still, he worried. This was the first time he’d been on a college campus purely as a professional, and it felt a lot more daunting than he’d ever imagined.

It took Gale a hot minute of wandering around on the wrong floor to figure out Astarion meant “second floor” in the standard British English sense of the phrase, and the break room was actually located on the third floor. He collected the small stack of orphaned papers from the tray next to the copier and returned to Astarion’s -his- office.

Xenia was still there, Idle chatting about the books she’d read while in involuntary hold. “Do you teach V.C. Andrews? She’d gothic lit, isn’t she?”

“I’m not much of an Americanist,” Astarion replied. “If I’m forced to teach Southern Gothic authors, I tend to gravitate towards Falkner.”

“Not Poe?”

Astarion gave her a derisive look, but Gale handed the stack of papers before he could respond. He flipped through to ensure everything was in order and handed them over to Xenia. “You’ve got two more plot summaries, a thematic analysis, and a comparative essay for the final. Work on them at your leisure.”  

Xenia took the papers and tossed them in the tattered messenger bag she’d brought without a second glance. “Thanks!” She said. “Is there anything else I need?”

Astarion put a hand on the paperwork he’d brought in with him, thumbing over the corner before he shot a scrutinizing look over at Gale. “Yes… but we’ll talk about it later.” He said.

“Alight, see you around then.” Xenia shrugged and slung her bag over her good shoulder but didn’t quite get it, and the strap slid down her arm, catching hard in the crook of her elbow. She let out a frustrated groan.

“Here, allow me.” Gale stepped forward and looped the strap comfortably over her shoulder.

Xenia cocked her head and gave Gale a thoughtful look, her dark eyes piercing right through him. “Thank you…” she muttered before she turned and hurried out of the office.

“She seems…” Gale trailed off. He wasn’t sure what Xenia seemed like; he’d never met a murderer before- at least not to his knowledge.

“Shorter than you’d thought she’d be?” Astarion asked flippantly, reclining in his chair. That was fair; Gale had a hard time imagining how someone as little and frail as Xenia could overpower a full-grown man, boxcutter or no.

“Did she really-”

“Self-defense,” Astarion answered several questions ahead. “I don’t suggest asking her anything else about it. She didn’t have a particularly pleasant home life.”

“I’d imagine not,” Gale replied, sitting back down at his desk. He tried his credentials again- still nothing. “-do you know how long it should take for me to be put in the university’s system?”

“Surely you should be in by now…” Astarion replied. He moved to look over Gale’s shoulder. He was so close Gale could feel his breath tickling the back of his neck- he had to suppress a shiver.

Astarion said something, pointing at the computer screen. He had such striking eyes, such a warm brown that they were almost red.

Gale completely missed what. “Sorry?”

“Try logging in without the server address,” Astarion repeated a slight edge in his voice. “Everything after the ‘at’ symbol.”

“Right.” Gale deleted the back half of his username and tried again. The computer loaded and loaded and loaded.

“That’s typically a good sign. Computers on campus take forever to log you on the first time.” Astarion said. He picked up the picture of Yenna and examined it dispassionately. “Cute kid, is she yours?”

“Ah, no… that’s my niece.” Gale felt suddenly and incredibly self-conscious. “I’ve always wanted my own, but it wasn’t in the cards, I’m afraid.”

The admission shocked him slightly, but he supposed it was true. Mystra had never wanted kids, and Gale wanted to keep her pleased, so he went along with that. But Gale had always loved kids. He’d been so excited when Yenna was born that he could hardly put her down. Still, when people asked him and Mystra if they were planning on having kids, he’d just nod dutifully while she explained that he was too focused on his career to think about kids.

“Shame,” Astarion said, setting the picture frame back down.

Gale’s computer screen went black, and then an empty Windows desktop appeared. Success!

“Just in time to log out for the all-hands meeting!” Astarion exclaimed looking at his watch.

Minsc stuck around for a little while to help shelve books and chat about students. It turned out that both of the English department’s graduating seniors were into martial sports. Wyll (Spelled with a ‘y’) Ravengard was an English and secondary education major and was the captain of the school’s fencing team, and Lae’zel -Minsc couldn’t recall her last name- was a sports communications and exercise science double major with an English minor wrestled, kick-boxed, and did jiu-jitsu (she seemed like she was going to be incredibly intense).

Minsc didn’t bring up Xenia again, and Gale didn’t ask, even if he was desperately curious. Because she deserved the dignity of meeting new people without letting her past actions color their perception of her. After all, it wasn’t like she was dangerous. Surely, they wouldn’t let her back on campus if that was the case.

An hour or so went by, and Minsc had to leave for a meeting, and Astarion still hadn’t returned. Gale hoped everything was okay. He seemed genuinely angry when he left. Shadowheart had made an off-handed comment about how Astarion was department chair because he was a “law school type who refused to lose even the pettiest argument,” but this seemed like a far more intense situation than just squabbling over a textbook requirement.

Gale tried logging on to his work computer to see if his credentials were active yet- nothing. Six days out from the start of class, and he still didn’t have access to a work email or his class roster… maybe he should get Astarion to yell at someone in IT next.

The heat kicked on, and the naked air vent overhead made a shrill grinding noise and shuttered as it belched rubber-scented hot air into the room. That was unpleasant. Gale tried to distract himself by arranging things on his desk, but all he could think about was how many fewer picture frames he had to put out now. He had never considered this aspect of divorce before… how many of his family photos he couldn’t bear to look at anymore. He had precisely three pictures now: the old Sears portrait of his parents they’d used for his dad’s obituary, a popsicle stick and pom-pom framed picture of his niece on a zipline at summer camp, and a picture of his cat Tara as a kitten curled up cozy in the dirty linen basket. He would have to ask his sister to look through her family photos to see if she’d kept any without Mystra in them.

“I… um- did Dr. Ancunín change offices?”

Gale nearly jumped out of his skin- he hadn’t even heard the door to the stairwell open. He looked up to see a young woman with a jagged scar across one cheek and the blackest eyes Gale had ever seen slumped tentatively in the doorway like she thought she might be trespassing. She was sickly pale with long dark hair thrown into a half-hazard lopsided bun on the top of her head and her right arm secured firmly against her abdomen in a mesh grey shoulder sling.

“No! no, this is still his office. We’re just sharing the space.”  Gale replied. “I’m Dr. Dekarios.” He stood to shake her hand, reaching out with the wrong hand and quickly correcting.

The young woman gave him a suspicious look as if she expected him to already know who she was. “Xenia…” She said flatly. “Do you know when he’s going to be back?”

“I think he should be back shortly.” Gale checked his watch- he’d have to be back soon; they were supposed to be at a staff meeting in 30 minutes. “You’re welcome to wait here for him- unless it’s something I can help you with.”

“It’s not,” Xenia replied. She sat down in the plastic chair in front of Astarion’s desk and started scrolling through something on her phone.

Gale tried not to take her short answers personally. It didn’t seem like she was in a particularly good headspace. “Xenia’s a pretty name. Greek, isn’t it?” He felt weird just ignoring her, especially since he had nothing else he could be doing right now.

She gave him a long, blank stare before she answered. “I guess. I haven’t thought about my name much- my father named me, and he’s… ah, not around to ask.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” Gale said. “Were the two of you close?”

Xenia’s lips upturned in disgust. She looked past Gale to study the cracks in the wall’s plaster, and he sensed he made a horrible mistake even before she spoke. “I killed my father.” The words were as casual as if she were commenting on the weather “Stabbed him in the neck with a box cutter.”

Gale laughed nervously, at first thinking -hoping even- that she was just making a bad attempt at a dark joke. But she just watched him with a bored malaise, as if this was a story she’d told a hundred times and was very tired of telling it.

The horror of her confession slowly started to set in.

***

Astarion took the steps up to the administration building two at a time. Most of the administration was housed in the only original building on campus: a large pink granite monolith with some vaguely Grecian architectural flourishes that was meant to evoke the splendid “grandeur” of higher education- though now it mainly just served to make sure people where out of breath when they came to sort out their finances. The building unsettled him. The whole place creaked and groaned at the slightest movement, like it was going to fall apart under his weight at any given moment.

He threw open the heavy oak doors at the main entrance, but his theatrics were met with dead silence. Most of the hourly staff hadn’t returned from their holiday break, so the main floor was empty, and the ancient elevator in the back of the building was still out of order, so Astarion had to climb the narrow staircase up the provost’s office on the third floor. Astarion knew for a fact he would be here by now -the fucking micromanager wouldn’t take a day off to save his life- he could smell his cologne underneath the antique smell of wood lacquer.

The secretary at the front desk perked up a bit as Astarion crested the stairs but her smile strained when she realized it was him. “Astarion, how are you today?” She asked. Her voice was just a touch too loud, like she was trying to warn someone in the other room that he was here.

“I’m just fine, Korrilla.” Astarion snapped as he stormed past her into the bank of offices beyond.

“Oh, Raphiel isn’t available right-” Slam!

Astarion burst into the provost’s office before she could finish her sentence. Raphael swiveled around in his desk chair, his office phone pressed to his ear, looking miffed but not the least bit surprised to see Astarion standing in front of him. He held up a finger bidding Astarion to wait as he spouted a series of ‘yes’s, ‘no’s, and ‘understood’s to whoever was on the other line.

Astarion leaned over and pressed the phone’s switch hook, disconnecting the call.

“You’re certainly wasting no time to start being a nuisance this semester, Dr. Ancunín.” Raphael spat as he slammed the phone’s handset back into its cradle. He was seething, but he’d never willingly admit it. “Could you not even wait for classes to start?”

Astarion ignored him. “Why was Xenia Bellona’s petition for deferment rejected?”

Raphael paused, an amused smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth for a split second. He evidently thought this was going to be about office space. “I’m afraid that’s proprietary information.”

Astarion slammed his fist down on Raphael’s desk hard enough to make his computer monitor rattle. “Is it proprietary, or do you not have a good excuse for forcing a 19-year-old girl to come back to school less than a month after she was involuntarily committed?”

“Now, Dr. Ancunín, there’s no need to let passions run so hot.” Raphael seized back control over the conversation, tutting at Astarion like he was a belligerent child. “You’ve been in academia for a very long time, surely this isn’t your first pet lost cause.”

It was all Astarion could do not to lunge across the desk. “So, she’s not giving you the marketable little success story you were promised, and you’re going to hang her out to dry.”

“Not at all. Miss Bellona still has access to every mental health resource Balduran University has to offer, but she isn’t entitled to any special treatment from the administration just because she’s had a hard go of it.”

Astarion ran his tongue over the top row of his teeth. “Deferring a student's education because they are seeking mental health treatment isn’t special treatment.”

“I agree with you, and if Miss Bellona had presented disability services with a documented history of mental health struggles, we likely could have done more for her. Unfortunately, without documentation, my hands are tied.”

That was a fucking lie. Part of the appeal of private universes was that they were far less beholden to the public in their decision-making, so it was much easier to bend the rules. “Does a 5150 form not count as documentation?”

 “You would have to yell at disability services for a more comprehensive answer, but I believe it counts as a point of history, but not a documented history,” Raphael replied.

“Couldn’t an involuntary commitment infer a history of mental health concerns?”

“In some circumstances, I’m sure it would.”

“But not this one?”

“She is more than welcome to contest the decision if she feels she has been wrong, but you do not have any right or responsibility to be demanding things on her behalf.” Raphael spat, looking down his nose at Astarion. “If you wanted to be anything more than that girl’s English professor, you shouldn’t have dropped out of law school.”

Astarion bristled but regained his composure, quickly seizing on that little pearl of knowledge Raphael had let slip. “Excellent. Can you let me know what steps she needs to take to make a contentment? Better yet, why don’t you get me whatever forms she needs to fill out, and I’ll take them to her.”

“Dr. Ancunín, that’s hardly necessary. If she has a problem with the administration’s decision, she can tell us herself.” Raphiel turned to his computer and pretended to browse his email.

“Is it not pertinent job information? Shouldn’t I know how the school’s bureaucratic channels work? What if I have another student in the future who has questions?”

Raphael glared up at him. “If I email you the paperwork, will you get out of my office?”

“Hmm… no.” Astarion pretended to mull the question over in his head for a moment. “I think you’d better print it out for me, actually. We wouldn’t want that email to get conveniently lost, would we? I’d hate to have to come all the way back up here.”

Raphael let out a long-beleaguered sigh and leaned back in his chair. “One of these days, your doggedness will land you in one hell of a pot of hot water.”

“So, you keep telling me.” Astarion dismissed him. “Should I expect Korrilla to get those forms printed out for me or…”

“I’ll have her get those to you shortly… though I must say I’m not inclined to let you think you can just burst into my office -interrupt my work- and get exactly what you want out of me without giving anything in return.”

Astarion’s skin prickled as Raphael’s eyes roamed over his body. He crossed his arms over his chest. He knew Raphael wasn’t in this for the thrill- this was far from their first rodeo- to him, this was just another avenue for exerting his control. “I’d hardly say I’m getting exactly what I want… I mean, I wouldn’t be here at all if you’d just-”

“I won’t ask for anything right now. I simply want a favor I can cash in at my leisure.” That was, in fact, much worse than if he’d just forced him to do something right now; he could hold this over his head for years.

“What kind of favor?” He knew he wouldn’t get him to admit anything out loud, not so bluntly.

“Nothing bigger than you can handle, I assure you.”

“I could just figure out the back channels myself, you know.”

“You could certainly try, but you know as well as I do that bureaucracy is a finicky thing. There’s no guarantee you’d get it right.”

Astarion set his jaw. “Fine. One favor and you personally oversee this appeal.”

“I know we have a new faculty member. I want to know why my office has been torn apart.” Astarion fumed.

“Provost said we didn’t have the office space for everyone in the English department to have their own office, so he said two of us would have to double up.” Shadowheart shrugged. “He thought you should be the one to share because you have the biggest office.”

“And I wasn’t informed about this because…”

“We were told not to let you know because you’d throw another fit in the dean’s office.”

“I’m the senior chair of the department, I shouldn’t be sharing my office with an adjunct- can’t he take Karlach’s office? It’s not like she needs one, she only teaches two courses a semester.” Astarion huffed. “Or he could be with you since you’re both teaching the entry levels.”

“My office was a literal broom closet before I started here!” Shadowheart shot back. “I don’t have room to meet with students, let alone share the space with another professor- but if you don’t want to share an office so badly, I’d be willing to trade with you.”

“Absolutely not,” Astarion replied. “Your office smells like bathroom cleaner.”

 “Then it looks like you’re stuck…”  Shadowheart sighed. “I’ll see you at the humanities all-hands.” She turned on her heels and went back to her office.

“Remember this moment when you need someone to drop a course so you can get another creative writing class on the roster,” Astarion grumbled.

He scrubbed his hands over his face and let out an exasperated sigh before he set to picking through his things to figure out where his colleagues had put everything. He liked Gale well enough as a professional, he seemed gregarious and personable, the kind of lecturer who could keep a student’s attention, and he was a lot more technically minded than any of the current faculty- but that didn’t mean he wanted to share a fucking office with him.

He should have known there was going to be a catch- there always had to be a fucking catch with admin. Balduran University was a business school through and through and put very little stock in any of its humanities departments- especially not into “dying fields” like English or literary studies. Usually, the English department didn’t get a cent more funding than absolutely necessary, and even then, their budget was constantly scrutinized to ensure it was actually necessary. He’d done a frankly unscrupulous amount of begging for years to get another full-time English professor in their threadbare department- everything short of just walking out and letting admin scramble to pick up the pieces. Of course, they would give the department the faculty member they’d been asking for and refuse to provide him with a space to work.

Astarion noticed a particular book from the pile of discarded things and turned it over in his hands, trying to place where he’d gotten it from. It was a collection of Paul Verlaine’s poetry in the original French, with a chipped yellowing dust jacket. It felt eerily, heartbreakingly, familiar, but he couldn’t place quite place it. He flipped through the slightly brittle pages to see if there was a passage or annotation that might jog his memory when a polaroid stuck in the dust jacket fluttered to the floor.

Astarion’s stomach lurched at the sight of the young man smiling up at him, relaxed and innocent as he lounged in the grass. His long ash-blonde hair spilling to one side over his shoulder, warm brown eyes gazing fondly at the person behind the counter, champagne silk button down undone just-so…

“I think we lose something when we don’t read an author in their original language.”

“And what am I losing when I read Verlaine in English?”

“Ça alors, the beauty- no, the music of the words. The English does not sing the way French does.”

A cautious knock at the door jolted Astarion quite rudely out of his thoughts. He grabbed the Polaroid off the floor, shoved it back into a random page in the book, and whirled around to see Gale standing stiff-backed in the doorway, clutching a box of his belongings. God, he was dressed like he was playing an English professor in a community theater play: Argyle vest, half-moon glasses, a tweed jacket with elbow patches and everything.

“I ah… didn’t mean to startle you.” He said with a nervous smile. “Jen told me we were sharing an office, at least temporarily.”

Temporarily in the sense that one day, one of them would eventually retire or die.

“Yes, that's apparently what I heard too,” Astarion replied. His eyes landed on the box in Gale’s arms. He hated this already. “Do you need help moving stuff up?”

Gale’s face lit up as he set his first box on his desk. “I do, actually! Thank you!”

Astarion grimaced when Gale turned his back. He’d offered out of courtesy, but he didn’t actually want Gale to take him up on it. He set the poetry book on his desk and pushed it out of his chair. Maybe a little bit of air and exercise would do him good. He followed Gale down the hall and up the stairs to the ground floor -Balduran U kept all its least loved departments sequestered away in the basement.

“So, have you been teaching here long?” Gale asked. He turned down the wrong hallway, and Astarion stood and watched as it slowly dawned on Gale that he was lost. He sheepishly turned on his heels and limped back over to Astarion.

“Ten years of my life wasted in that squalid little basement.” Astarion sighed. “I would tell you to get out while you still can, but I’m tired of suffering alone.”

Gale chuckled. He had a congenial chuckle like a talk show host. “It can’t be that bad, surely.” He said, “Or else someone as bright as you would have jumped ship by now.”

Astarion pounced on the compliment like a house cat. “You think I’m bright then?”

“Oh, I know you’re bright,” Gale replied. “You did your due diligence before you offered me this job. I did my due diligence before I accepted it. I read some of your published work, it was very impressive.”

Astarion swallowed back a pleased smirk, running his tongue over one of his canines. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Dr. Dekarios.”

They stepped outside into the dreary grey staff parking lot in the middle of the dreary grey of January. Gone was any of the merriment of the winter holidays, now all that was left was the cold bite of the wind and a few skeletal trees. Gale clicked the unlock button on his key fob, and a squat black hatchback with a bumper sticker in the rear window that said ‘Life’s better with a calico’ flashed its headlights.

“So why do you stick around if you find this place so disagreeable?” Gale asked. He popped the trunk and picked up another cardboard box filled to the brim with books.

“I’ve become quite attached to having a work visa,” Astarion replied frankly. He picked up a much lighter box of desk accessories. “And I suppose some of the students can be quite rewarding to work with- being a smaller program means you get more of an opportunity to form personal connections with the kids in our degree track… if you’re into that kind of thing. I personally get tired of all the recommendation letters they ask me to write.”

That and there was a certain level of anonymity that came with working at a small university. No one outside the city -outside the neighborhood really- had heard of Balduran University, and no one really cared about it. News stations never covered random happenings on campus for a quick local interest piece, so there were never any articles mentioning Astarion’s name and job title in passing to make their way back to people they shouldn’t.

“Ah, I did notice you had an accent!” Gale glossed over Astarion’s snippy comment as naturally as if it hadn’t even happened. He shut his trunk and started back for the office building. “Do you mind me asking where you’re from?”

“I grew up in Central London,” Astarion replied shortly.

“That’s quite a long hall. Do you get back home often?”

“Not if I can help it.” Astarion shuffled his box around in his hands to catch the door for Gale. “I’ve never gotten along very well with my family. We have an irreconcilable… difference in lifestyle choices.”

That was the understatement of the century.

“I’m sorry to hear that. I honestly can’t say how I’d get by if I didn’t have my mom.”

A woman with a pleasant face and an ankle-length floral skirt -probably an early-ed major- held the door to the stairwell open for the two of them. Their footsteps echoed off the polished concrete.

“I hope you’ve managed to find peace on your own, at least.”

“I’ve found ways to fill the void-” Astarion stepped backward through the door to the arts and letters wing and stopped so abruptly at the site of the large bald slap of muscle in gym shorts loitering outside his- and Gale’s- office door that Gale almost barreled into him. Astarion was rapidly approaching his surprise quota for the day.

“Dr. Ancunín!” Minsc bellowed, too chipper for the first Monday back from winter break. “Man I was looking for! How was your holiday? Good, I hope.”

“It was fine, Minsc. What are you doing here? Is something wrong?” Astarion fought the urge to dash past him and check his e-mail.

Minsc, infuriatingly, looked past Astarion to give Gale a big stupid grin. “Hello! Are you a new friend of Astarion’s? He does not get those very often.”

 “I’d like to think we’re friends!” Gale replied, and Astarion rolled his eyes. “I’m Gale Dekarios, the new English adjunct.”

Minsc whisked the box out of Gale’s hands as if it were full of feathers. “Very heavy books, Dr. Dekarios!” he said, “heavy books make a strong mind like heavy weight makes strong muscles.” Minsc gave Gale a handshake so firm Astarion was half surprised it didn’t bounce Gale off the ground. “Is pleasure! I am Coach Minsc, I am athletics director of martial arts program.”

“The -ah, the feeling is mutual,” Gale replied, wrenching his hand out of Minsc’s grasp before he broke fingers. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“Right!” Minsc lit up and turned back to Astarion. “Xenia came to practice today. Have you talked to her?”

Astarion’s jaw set tight. He was afraid Minsc was here to talk about her. “We haven’t spoken since Christmas.” He said, trying to stay measured. “The last I heard, she wanted to take a leave of absence this semester.”

“Is what I thought to. Her shoulder is still in cast.” Minsc replied. “She says her request to suspend financial aid package was denied. She cannot take break.”  

White hot rage surged through Astarion’s body. He tasted iron in the back of his throat. It was far too early in the semester to get kicked out of the dean’s office for causing a scene- but it was also far too early in the semester for this kind of fuckery.

“Who’s Xenia?” Gale asked.

“She is sophomore student,” Minsc replied. “Very bright but very troubled. She had… episode last fall-”

“She can decide if she wants Gale to know about that when she meets him.”  Astarion snapped. He loved a bit of student gossip as much as the next bored faculty member, but Xenia was a… delicate case. Astarion had been plenty of students’ favorite professor throughout his career, but very few were ever as vulnerable with him as Xenia was. He handed Gale’s box of office supplies back to him. “I’ll be right back.”

Baldur's Gate 3 Fics

My Tav(s): Lydia Silverwarden

My Durge(s): Xenia Bellona

Everyone's Running From Something

Rating: M

Alternate Universe: University Professors

Main Paring: Bloodweave

Trope Tags: Friends to Lovers/Coworkers to Lovers, Forced Proximity, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort

Quick Summary: Astarion and Gale are two University English professors precariously mentoring a troubled 19-year-old and falling in love.

Additional Pairings: Shadowheart/Nocturne, Karlach/Dammon, Wyll/The Dark Urge, M!Tav/F!Tav, (Past) Gale/Mystra, (Past) Astarion/Sebastian, (Past) Astarion/F!Tav

Summary:

Balduran University is a small school in a sleepy little town. People choose it for the small class sizes and the peaceful campus life. Astarion liked it because it was far away from home and the people he'd rather not think about anymore. He had a good thing going for himself for a while: a job in his chosen field, students to terrorize, and admin staff he could pick fights with when things got too boring. It was a lonely life, but at least it belonged to him. Gale thought it would be a good place to find himself and his passion again after clumsily exiting a relationship that had dominated the majority of his adult life. Perhaps they end up with a lot more than they bargained for when they are forced to share an office and end up unlikely mentors to a troubled young student with a dark a brutal past.

**Content Warnings**

This is an M-rated fic that deals with sensitive themes and subject matter. While most things tagged will not be directly present in the narrative, the reader is encouraged to use their own discretion.

Adoption Trauama, Child Abuse, Childhood Torture, Death of a Side Character, Disordered Eating, Grad Student/Professor Relationship, Hypersexuality, Involuntary Commitment, Institutional Discrimination, Mental Health Breakdown, Murder, PTSD, Self Harm, Sexual Coercion

Ao3 Link

Chapter List-

Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5 | Ch6

The Pale Elf & The Silver Teifling (Series)

Rating: M to E

Pairing: Astarion/F!Tav (Lydia)

Ao3 link

Intimate

“Astarion, there is so much more to like about you than just the sex.” Lydia took his face in her hands and pressed her lips against him. “You’re charming… you’re intelligent… you’re funny… you’re thoughtful in your own strange way...” She punctuated each statement with another kiss until there were no more words, just the warmth of her lips against his over and over again like a declaration of the many thousands of little, nameless things that made Astarion worthy of love.

Summary: A loosely related and out-of-order collection of different intimate moments between my Tav: Lydia, and Astarion. As horrible and wonderful as it always is to grow to know another person.

Ao3 Link

Just Dessert

"though I am starting to wonder how much trouble you're really in, darling?” Astarion asked. His fingers trailed up her side to stroke the ticklish spots along the bony ridges of her ribs, causing Lydia to squirm in his grasp. “I mean, you haven’t even tried asking me-or whatever’s holding you captive- to let you go. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you wanted this.”

Summary: Alternately, Astarion and Lydia are fooling around after a night out. (sequel to ch. 4 of Intimate, Dinner and Dessert)

Ao3 Link

Blackberry Wine & Summer Mead

“If you want to try something like this again, we can always start smaller- when you feel ready for it, of course. You might feel more comfortable if it’s just you, me, and someone we trust.”

“Hmmm…” Astarion leaned back to study Lydia's expression while he mulled over the suggestion. “… I might be interested, depending on who you had in mind.”

Summary: After their encounter with the Orlith twins doesn't go exactly as planned, Asterion and Lydia try again in a safer, saner context.

Ao3 Link

The Blade of Fronters & The Bane of The Gates

Rating: M to E

Pairing: Wyll/F!The Dark Urge (Xenia)

~✨coming soon✨~