Master Apprentice
Archive
A Change of Clime
|
|
|||
Archive: MA only
Category: Alternate Reality, Qui/Obi, Romance
Rating: PG-13
Series: Academic Arcadia -- 1) Wedding Gifts 2) A Symposium on Love 3) Dinner and a Movie 4) Please Call First 5) Masquerade 6) A Change of Clime
Summary: Quinn and Ian move in together for the second time.
Feedback: Is treasured at MerryAmelie@aol.com
Disclaimer: Mr. Lucas owns everything Star Wars. I'm not making any money.
For Alex, my friend and beta
Art rec: Resistance Is Futile by Sue. Gorgeous artwork complementing A Change of Clime. Comments treasured on Sue's LJ post and at MerryAmelie@aol.com.
Ian Prentice held up a seemingly innocuous envelope and looked at his lover, Quinn Masterson, with utter trepidation. "Here it is." The letter from Luke University had finally come. It was satisfyingly thick, giving Ian hope for his prospects there; after all, it only took one piece of paper for a rejection letter.
Ian had been awaiting this moment for months packed with personal interviews and the painstaking analysis of his academic life. Luke's prestige played only a small part in his desire to teach there; Ian wanted to join Quinn on the faculty.
Quinn took Ian in his arms and kissed him for luck. "Read it, lad," he urged.
"Let's open it together," Ian said, blushing at his childishness.
When he saw the tender expression on Quinn's face, Ian thought there were worse things than occasionally behaving like a boy. Ian wordlessly thrust out one side of the envelope, and the men held it as they would a wishbone.
The paper tore and Ian reached in to grab the cover letter. At the first word, 'Congratulations', Ian let out a whoop that could probably be heard in the next apartment. He sagged against Quinn, relief pouring out of him.
Quinn took the letter from Ian's nerveless fingers and finished reading it. Yes, Ian was hired as an assistant professor starting in January, with a more than respectable salary and the prospect of tenure in a few years, dependent on the three Ps: publication, performance, and peer review.
Quinn hugged Ian as he read the letter aloud to him, then tossed it onto the dining table. He cheered lustily and led Ian in an impromptu dance around the apartment. Their box-step was surprisingly graceful given the excess of energy running off them. Luckily, the floor was carpeted, or their downstairs neighbors would have been treated to ten minutes of vigorous stomping.
Already breathing hard, they took the celebration into their bedroom.
The month before Christmas vacation was the happiest holiday season either man could remember. They were living, loving, and soon to be working together.
Ian's semester ended slightly before Quinn's, which enabled him to get an early start in cleaning out his Ken State office. He came in on a Saturday, ready to work in an old pair of jeans and a school sweatshirt. Ian was putting yet another pile of books in yet another box when the door opened and Quinn poked his head in.
"Can you use a hand, Ian?"
The look on Ian's face told the story; his gratitude and love beckoned Quinn inside. Ian had started on the lower shelves, defeating the simple stuff first. This strategy paid off now, when Quinn's greater reach came into play.
Ian started to work a bit less efficiently, his eyes straying to Quinn's rangy form stretching up for books. The Norton Anthologies and Critical Editions were the next to pack. Ian had already done most of the other volumes. Quinn paused now and then to look at a publication date or an interesting passage.
"You have newer editions than I do." Quinn's eyes crinkled. "It's obvious that I'm older than you are by the copyrights in our books," Quinn said, smiling as he relaxed in the 'student' chair by Ian's desk.
"Not to mention the yellowing pages," Ian teased.
"Now, now, lad, weren't you the one trying to tell me that our age difference is insignificant?" Quinn huffed melodramatically. "That's certainly not the way to go about it."
Ian came to stand between Quinn's outstretched legs. "You're right, love," he said softly. "Seems it's in my best interest to emphasize your youthful strength today, what with this pile of boxes waiting to be lifted." He kissed Quinn's forehead. "But how can I convince you?"
Quinn knew he was in trouble when he heard the teasing tone in Ian's voice, and was proven right seconds later when Ian started to run his hands over Quinn's THX T-shirt; he'd not worn his Luke shirt today in deference to Ken State. Ian's reaction to the hard muscle he felt on Quinn's arms and chest left no doubt as to the sincerity of his opinion about Quinn's 'youthful strength'.
"Ah, Ian, you've convinced me, you mischievous whelp." Quinn took Ian's fingers in his own, caressing and stilling them. Even on a Saturday, with a locked door between them and the campus, Quinn felt more comfortable waiting until they got home.
Sighing in tandem, they returned to the task at hand, made much shorter by Quinn's timely help. At last, the only things left were some office supplies and the teacher's editions for Ian's courses. He put them in a separate box to give to the secretary on Monday morning.
Quinn looked on, unsurprised that Ian took nothing of the school's, not even a pen. He watched as Ian locked up, appearing happy and wistful at the same time. Quinn brushed shoulders with him as they walked down the corridor and out to the THX.
Ian's move to his Luke office was considerably less subdued. Quinn had surprised Ian with the news that he was free to share his office if it wouldn't mean too much togetherness for him.
It seemed that the privacy-conscious Quinn had succeeded in keeping a double office to himself for his four years at Luke, despite a premium on space there. He had evaded all comers by keeping enough plants to stock a greenhouse, and placing many of them on the spare desk, having an aquarium near the window that required frequent cleaning, and playing allegedly soothing music on his portable CD system.
If Ian consented to room with him at work, Quinn promised with a straight face that these quirks would mysteriously vanish, with the exception of a particularly prized acanthus. He had to wait for Ian to stop laughing before he got his answer.
"Quinn, you great reprobate, d'ya mean to tell me you spent the last four years hogging an enormous office to yourself?"
Quinn had the decency to look sheepish, though he attempted a half-hearted rally. "You're a fine one to talk. Your old office was the size of a sugar cube, but at least you weren't expected to share it. I'd rather have a tiny space that's all mine than divide a showplace." Quinn snagged Ian for an embrace. "Except with you, lad. Except with you."
"Oh, all right, I'll move in with you. You've gotten a little too comfortable there, I can tell."
Quinn reflected that it had been easier getting Ian to agree to live with him than convincing him to share office space. He wondered if their professional personas would align as seamlessly as their personal lives already had. Quinn looked forward to finding out.
By the time they'd brought Ian's books and oddments to Qunn's office, the plants and aquarium were gone, relegated to the Life Sciences building, where the faculty had eagerly accepted them. The CD player remained, though Quinn's taste in music mysteriously seemed to improve, tending toward the three Bs: Bach, Beethoven, and Brahms.
Quinn's desk and bookcases took up exactly half the space, and he'd even given Ian the prime location furthest from the door.
Ian smelled paint despite the open windows when he entered the office that Sunday. Cream-colored walls, dark hardwood floors, cherry desks and shelves freshly oiled to coat the scratches: it was an inviting workplace.
He found Quinn opening desk drawers to make sure they were empty for Ian's papers. When Quinn saw him, he rose to take the box from his hand and kiss him.
"Welcome home, lad."
Warmth permeated Ian from the banked heat in Quinn's eyes, and behind him, the cozy quarters that would become the background of their professional life together.
Ian returned the kiss with interest, and rested his head on Quinn's chest. "This is wonderful, love." He cupped Quinn's cheek in his palm. "I didn't expect the renovations. Thank you."
A faint flush spread under Ian's hand as Quinn said, "I was glad to do it, Ian." Quinn walked him to his desk, hovering expectantly while Ian sat down in the blue swivel chair and inspected his surroundings: the three deep drawers of his desk, four shelves affixed to the wall and a bookcase with five more, a filing cabinet next to the blackboard.
After Ian's general overview of the office, he began to notice details: the chalk and eraser were both new, a single lilac decorated his desk corner, and two large books in a slipcase sat atop a bookshelf. Intrigued, Ian discovered The Annotated Sherlock Holmes waiting to be devoured.
He looked up to find Quinn watching him indulgently, and walked over to hug and kiss him. "Oh, Quinn, what a great present! I can't wait to read the annotations." Quinn leaned down so their foreheads could touch. "But you didn't have to get me anything; working with you is gift enough for me."
Quinn shook his head dismissively, tightening his hands on Ian's waist. "I've enjoyed teaching here for years, but from now on something tells me I'll like it even more." He claimed another kiss.
Ian started leafing through his new books, and noticed an inscription on the frontispiece. Above the illustration of Holmes and Watson, Quinn had written in his small, neat script:
My dearest Ian,
Together we embark on our greatest adventures, sharing a love I'd never dared hope to find.
Ever yours, Quinn
Ian couldn't talk, but his crushing embrace spoke volumes nonetheless. Exhilarated, they began to put Ian's books and papers where they belonged.
End.