Flux

by Merry Amelie (MerryAmelie@aol.com)

Archive: MA only
Category: Alternate Reality, Qui/Obi, Romance
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A moving tale.
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 7) Christmas in Williamsburg 8) A Paduan New Year's Eve 9) Flux
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

Ian Prentice pushed the student desk into place well away from his own larger one.

"Hello, Ian. Need some help?"

The rich voice of his lover had Ian turning around quickly. "No, I'm already done. Had to change chairs." At Quinn's quirked eyebrow, he elaborated. "When I was at Ken State, some of the girls got a bit flirtatious. I've found ways to lessen that."

"Clever lad -- you'll have them boxed in there." Quinn walked over to kiss Ian in greeting. That was the most physical affection they allowed themselves at work, and only behind the locked office door. "What are your other methods?"

"One is standard procedure these days: to leave the office door open any time a student is present. I also have a tissue box available for the criers; I keep them at arm's length by handing them tissues, rather than letting them try to cozy up to me."

Quinn sat back in his chair. "Sounds like you had a time of it at Ken State."

Ian smiled wryly. "I guess it's not that unusual when I'm almost of an age with the students. At least I was able to head off any problems before they started, and that's just what I want to do here."

"Good idea. I'm sure that two of us in the office will help as well."

"True. I've already noticed some swooners in the front row of my Intro Lit course. Eight o'clock in the morning, and they're already starting in."

"Can't say I blame them, lad." Quinn looked over at Ian with quiet appreciation.

As a new hire, Ian had been given the least popular teaching time, first period on Friday morning. He had expected this, and took it in stride. At least his three courses were consecutive; if TPTB disliked someone, they'd give him the first and last course of the day, each on a different campus.

Quinn's first class, in contrast, began at 11:30, and he was finished teaching by 2:30. It actually worked out well, however; Ian had scheduled his office hour for fifth period to coincide with Quinn's. Since it was early in the semester, hardly anyone had come so far. Most students showed up just before and after exams and papers: before, to get extra help, and after, to complain about grades.

Quinn and Ian used the fallow time for lecture preparation and to further research their joint Melville/Hawthorne treatise. As Quinn was turning on his laptop, Ian came over and sat on the edge of his desk, PDA in hand.

"Let's talk scheduling. I'm assigning a paper every two weeks, due on Fridays, a midterm in March, and a final exam in May. How does that coordinate with your plans?"

Quinn scrolled down through his calendar for the spring semester, checking the salient entries. "How about March 19th for the midterms, and May 7th for the finals?"

Ian scanned his pad. "Sounds good. I'm looking forward to our first grading marathon together."

"So am I, lad." Quinn's eyes shone. "We can fire up the cappuccino maker and go all night."

"And then we can mark essays." Ian winked as he rose to open the door for their office hours. A timid brown-haired girl almost knocked on his chest.

"I'minyoursecondperiodclassProfessorIhavesomequestionsaboutthisweek'sassignmentCanyouhelpme?"

Ian motioned her in, and Quinn retreated behind his laptop for the duration. After patiently repeating the same things he'd said in class in different ways, the student seemed to understand what was expected, and scurried out.

Ian was just packing up for the day when he noticed she'd left her textbook. He ran after her and gave her the book in the hall.

Quinn had put on his jacket, waited while Ian donned his, and locked the door after them. They went to the student union building, where they picked up copies of the campus newspaper with their coffee. It was a cavernous place, complete with bookstore, food court, post office, theater, and game room.

The two sat at a plastic table, students milling about them, while Quinn pointed out his favorite eateries.

"If you want a good pizza, go to Oppo's. Their crust is the best. Rissian's serves great burgers, and Billaba's has fresh pita sandwiches."

"Are you free for lunch with me on Monday?"

"Fourth period?" At Ian's nod, Quinn said, "It's a date, then," the hint of a smile touching his lips.

The two finished their coffee, and set out for the parking lot. They'd taken Ian's Audi today, and headed home along a new route, a scant ten minute commute. The realtor had called shortly after their return from Williamsburg to tell them that the Academy Hotel in Landowe, New York, all five stars of it, had been converted into condominiums. Quinn and Ian had jumped at the chance, and immediately entered a bid for two adjacent units on the seventh floor, which had been accepted the next day.

The two went to 'Quinn's' apartment; they were setting it up first since they had mostly stayed at Ian's place for months before the move.

Quinn and Ian had taken the opportunity to give away most of their furniture and clothing to charity before moving. Therefore, it was difficult to believe that so much remained. The movers had left them to their crates and boxes, and now they were everywhere, making navigation around the apartments tricky.

Ian put his briefcase on the nearest crate, and looked around the apartment with a critical eye. The impulse to rearrange furniture was strong in Ian that day. Surely the easy chair was too near the front door; he moved it closer to an unplugged floor lamp and stepped back, satisfied for the moment.

Quinn went into the kitchen to start cooking. He got out his white dishes and began poking around in the refrigerator looking for leftovers.

These plastic plates were supposed to be for breakfast and lunch, with Ian's stoneware used for dinner, but Quinn had forgotten the cabinet in which the good dishes were stored.

Ian came in and grinned when he saw the plates. "I thought we agreed not to use those for dinner."

Quinn took his nose out of the fridge. "We did, but I don't know where the others are. Besides, it's just potluck tonight."

Ian went over and hugged him. "I can see that. Anything still edible in there?"

"Yesterday's fish looks promising, but I'd better chuck the rice. It's been sitting there for days. I don't think it's supposed to smell like this, even with the herbs you put in," Quinn teased.

The pots and pans with rusted bottoms had been thrown away, and they'd invested in new steel cookware. The rice duly tossed, Quinn found a pan and started cooking the fish, while Ian put together a small salad.

They ate on a crate and sat on folding chairs in the dining area, happier here than in years of fine dining alone.

Ian studied his dish narrowly. "Hey, your portion is larger than mine."

"There's always a bigger fish, lad." Quinn chuckled at Ian's groan.

"I guess this big fish is enough for me," Ian said with a grin.

As he ate, Quinn eyed the wall clock dubiously and checked it against his watch. "That thing is three minutes slow," he pronounced indignantly.

"It looks nicer than yours, though," Ian said impishly. At Quinn's glance, he added, "Okay, we'll put yours up."

"You know, Ian, pretty soon we'll come to think of everything as ours," Quinn said mildly.

Ian's eyes lit up. "I already do, in some cases." He got up to perch on Quinn's thigh. "This, for example," he said, kissing Quinn's cheek. "And this." Ian nuzzled his chin.

Quinn mapped their joint holdings enthusiastically, paying particular attention to the curve of Ian's neck, then pressed foreheads with him. "What do you want to work on tonight?"

"Let's do the bedroom first. That should be our priority." Ian stretched sensually.

"I like the way you think, lad," Quinn said, smiling.

Quinn washed the dishes and Ian dried them, then they walked into the bedroom. Quinn's king bed sprawled immodestly without its sheets; the men had gotten a bit carried away last night. The third box they opened yielded another set. The two had picked the linens together just before the move: green and blue plaid flannel with a green comforter. This was their bed now, and they made it quickly, anxious to get under the covers.

An airbed was tucked away in a corner of Ian's room temporarily; his old mattress had not been worth taking. The men eventually wanted another king bed in there, but decided to buy it later, since they were already swamped with moving expenses. The inflatable was necessary, however, to preserve the illusion of separate lives they were trying so hard to maintain. It was already made up to look like it was in use, in case of unexpected visitors.

However, Quinn and Ian had no intention of ever sleeping on an air mattress when the delights of their oversized bed beckoned so persuasively. Now was the time to enjoy them.

End.