Inspired by a real-life situation related to me by my girlfriend, featuring a couple of art-gallery losers who are adorably and preciously in love, one of whom looks like a real-life!Hawke, with nothing to do all day but disrupt their old university classes (apparently). Any resemblance to those real people, however, is purely accidental,
Garrett tried not to pay attention to any of the tittering around him as he slipped in the door at the back of the lecture hall, noiselessly shutting it behind him. At the front, Anders was already waxing poetic about some aspect of-maritime law, maybe? It was difficult to grasp the threads of his lecture, having only joined partway through, but he was going on and on about the application of justice and the need for every law student to understand the importance of the concepts of justice and mercy and-maybe it wasn't a maritime law lecture, after all, he thought bemusedly. He leaned to the girl sitting next to him, who was paying rapt attention and doodling little pink hearts in her notebook as she stared at her professor. He resisted the urge to snort, and instead asked, "Hey, what class is this?"
She barely glanced away from Anders as she muttered back, "History and Concepts of Maritime Law." Bingo. He thanked her, and settled back into his seat, grinning as he chewed on a pen and waited for Anders to see him.
It took longer than he would have expected-the hall was large, but the seats were sparsely filled, and Anders did love to make eye contact. There were a few times that he was sure Anders had seen him, but each time, the man's eyes slid smoothly by without a pause or a hesitation in his delivery. He answered questions graciously when students raised their hands, and Garrett noticed that everyone in the class seemed to genuinely want to be there, even the doe-eyed girl who had never stopped gazing at Anders with obvious daydreams in her eyes. It was more than he could say for his English 101 lectures, where a full third of the students were only there because it was an engineering requirement, and at least a quarter were only there to fawn all over him and attempt to sleep their way to a passing grade.
He wondered how doodle-girl managed to pass her tests, given that she wasn't taking any notes except for the swirly hearts and occasional scribbles that he thought were supposed to be cartoonish pictures of Anders' face, but the thought left his head when he heard his name.
"Mr. Hawke?"
His head swung about to look at Anders, who was gazing at him evenly, one eyebrow raised quizzically. What was he doing? He noticed that the heads of all of his classmates were also swivelled to look at him, and he just about lost his balance on the chair that he'd been tipping back on two legs.
"Sorry, what?"
"I asked if you could summarize for us the case study that was in this week's reading, regarding the claim made by Rivaini Shipping Co. …?"
Garrett stared at him in disbelief, blinking rapidly. What the hell was he on about? He watched carefully, and saw the mischievous glint in Anders' eye. He was playing him; Garrett had more or less asked for it, as far as Anders was concerned.
Well, two could play at that game. He switched the pen to his other cheek, and issued a cocky smile at the man. "Sorry, sir, I'm afraid I didn't do the readings this week. I was a bit...busy." He put enough lasciviousness into the last word that the insinuation was clear, and scored a mental point as Anders' cheeks flared just the faintest pink. The class tittered; doodle-girl cast him a disapproving look. He grinned cheekily around the pen, and pushed the end of it into his cheek. Anders coughed and turned his attention to a young man in the front bank of seats.
"Avery? Did you do the readings?"
The boy-Avery-smirked and recited something that sounded like it came from the inside leaf of a dust cover on a bad paperback. Garrett rolled his eyes, but grinned at Anders the next time the man's eyes passed over him.
It didn't stop there, however. Every single time, it seemed, that Anders wanted to engage the class, he always picked on Garrett first. The rest of the class was starting to get suspicious, whispering amongst themselves everytime their misguided "classmate" sassed their professor. He was getting annoyed looks from everyone, now-he supposed that was the price to pay for disrupting a lecture full of students who actually gave a shit about the material. Honestly, though, he was a little surprised that no one was calling him out on not actually being enrolled. It was halfway through the semester-did they all really think he was just a lazy douchebag who had picked today as his one day to actually attend?
He contemplated slipping back out again, but every time he was ready to make his escape, Anders called on him again. He got his revenge by subtly fellating the chewed up pen with ever more gusto every time Anders made eye contact, but the man was surprisingly unflappable. Finally though, with five minutes left before the bell, he nodded at his students to pack away their things.
"Midterm on Friday, remember-I expect you to have done all your readings, as there will be material on the test that we haven't covered in lecture. Your last assignment grades will also be posted online by this afternoon, and I will have office hours tomorrow and Wednesday in case you want to discuss anything before the exam." The students rustled their papers, chairs squeaking against the floor and desks groaning under the weight of law student backpacks. Garrett let his chair settle to the floor with a loud bang, and was ready to leave, when Anders' voice called out over the hubbub.
"Mr. Hawke. Please stay behind-I'd like to speak to you."
There was a scattered chorus of "ooh"s from the young men in the class, and groups of girls started whispering furiously to each other. Garrett's neighbour gave him a scathing glare, and he couldn't tell if it was because he had upset her favourite teacher, or because he'd gotten asked to stay behind instead of her. He shrugged and winked at her, and she huffed off, paisley print dress swirling around her knees and arms clutched tight around her books.
The class emptied steadily, with only one or two students trying to linger long enough to witness the aftermath, but Anders politely ushered them out. The door closed behind the last of them, and Garrett kicked himself out of his chair, sauntering down the steps to the front of the class with his hands shoved in his pockets.
He pulled the pen from between his lips and tossed it into the waste basket, mangled beyond belief as it was. "What's the matter, teacher?" he drawled, leaning against the desk and looking at Anders, who was attempting to stoically stuff his lecture notes back in his briefcase. Garrett could see his hands shaking, though. "Have I been naughty?"
"Unbelievably," Anders growled, and looked up. Garrett was startled to see the heat in his eyes, more than he had been expecting from his innocent teasing, and for a brief moment he worried that he'd pushed too far, made Anders angry. That thought was banished quickly, however, when Anders swept around the side of the desk and crashed into him, arms going around his waist and one hand dipping into the waistband of his loose dress slacks. Their mouths met, and Anders' tongue quickly pushed past his lips, plundering his mouth. Garrett allowed it willingly, let himself be attacked before pushing back and pinning Anders against the side of the desk. He kissed his way down the man's throat, and Anders breathed out, shaky, hands scrabbling for purchase on the edge of the laminate desktop.
"Jesus, Garrett-" His hands were fumbling, but Garrett was too busy leaving what he was intending to be a very dark and unmistakeable bruise on his neck just above the crisp collar of his work shirt to pay any real attention to what he was doing. "I can't believe you-just invaded my class like that-and that pen, God, what were you even-oh…"
Garrett was too busy kissing every inch of skin he could find to respond.
"I really should...not professional at all, you know...fucking obscene…" He grinned against Ander's shoulder, loving the breathless way he was talking, the way the man's body was pressing itself along his, the beautiful hardness he could feel hidden under the demure pants. The grin only grew when Ander's hands found his shoulders and pushed, and he found himself on his knees on the lecture hall floor, Anders leaning back against the desk with his fly open and Garrett settled between his slightly splayed legs, his hands moving back to the laminate and latching on with a white knuckled grip.
"Oh god, yes," Garrett groaned, and leaned forward, fingers already working to pull Anders out of his briefs and hoping the end-of-the-day noise of the students passing through the halls outside would drown out the sounds he was planning to wring out of his partner in the empty hall.