2 rooms for sublet - 1793 Portsmouth St.

I'm renting a townhouse in Brewerytown and looking for housemates. Rent is $450/mo. plus utilities. The rooms are already furnished, and there's a shared kitchen, living room, and basement (see photos). Location is within walking distance of Justinian Law School. Please email me if interested.

Will circled around the block a third time, hoping irrationally that a spot had opened up in the two minutes since he'd last passed by, but no such luck. Grumbling under his breath, he drove on to the next street over and began the delicate process of squeezing into what was likely the only parking spot left in the whole damn neighborhood. These were sad times indeed when a man couldn't even park in front of his own house. He hoped the handicap tag hanging from his rearview mirror at least made someone feel bad.

He went around to the back of the car, opened the trunk, hefted one of the cardboard boxes that held all his worldly possessions, and began the walk back towards the house. It was unremarkable as far as townhouses went; three stories, brick, with white-ish trim around the windows and a few concrete steps leading up to the front door. The space on the left side of the house which would normally feature another townhouse had instead gone to seed and become a rectangle of scraggly grass. A black cat emerged from the grass, stared at him for a few seconds, then padded off down the sidewalk.

Will shifted the box over to his left arm and rang the doorbell. Within a few minutes, he was greeted by the smiling face of Archie Kennedy. "Hey. Didn't I give you a key?"

"You did," Will said, stepping into the house. "I just didn't want to surprise you."

"Well, aren't you considerate." Archie motioned with his head towards the stairs. "Our new friend Horatio showed up at three a.m. yesterday and just let himself in. That fucked me up. Do you need any help moving?"

Will hated to impose, but… "I'd appreciate it. I had to park down the block."

Archie shook his head. "All the undergrads are coming in today, too. Sorry, but it seems we're surrounded by ankle-biters."

Will had to laugh at that. "No offense, but you look like you can't be long out of undergrad yourself."

"I took a gap year," Archie said defensively. He waited for Will to set his box down on the floor before following him out the door and towards his car. "You're new to Philly too, right? I'll have to show you and Horatio around sometime. As implied by the name of the neighborhood, there are some really good places for imbibing alcohol. Including, hilariously, a pub called Crime and Punishment. The beer's actually pretty good. If you like beer. You look like you do."

Will smiled. He'd only met Archie once before, when he'd come down from Allentown to look at the house, but the younger man was so friendly it felt like they already knew each other well. "I do. I'm looking forward to it."

Together, it took the two of them about fifteen minutes to get the rest of Will's boxes and suitcases into his room on the ground floor. On their last trip, Archie found himself carrying a bulky blue and grey camouflage bag. "Are you in the army?"

"Navy," Will said, still disappointed by the average civilian's remarkable inability to tell the difference between blue and brown. "And not anymore."

"Ah." Archie must have sensed that he didn't want to talk about it, and so let the subject go. He offered to help Will unpack, too, but Will refused. He enjoyed simple activities like cleaning and organizing; he could let his body do the work and drift, not having to think about anything. For now, he set the last box down on the floor of his room and took a look around. There was a bed in the corner, a desk, a small closet, a set of wooden drawers, and a window, which looked out on a tiny patch of yard and the back of the house on the next street down. It was small, but honestly could have been a lot worse considering his shoestring budget. And a man who'd lived in a floating tin can for years didn't need a lot of space, anyway.

He began his unpacking by opening up the box that held his new (well, to him, anyway) textbooks and lining them up on top of the drawers. They were all three inches thick and were the most lawyerly-looking things he had ever seen. They seemed ridiculous and out of place among his piles of sweatpants and action movies. His sisters had even 'oohed' and 'aahed' when they'd come in the mail, probably more impressed by the books and the idea of 'Will the fancy-pants lawyer' than they'd ever been by their real, actual brother. He sighed, and hoped, not for the first time, that he knew what he was doing.

Horatio stared up at the ceiling. "I have no idea what I'm doing," he whispered, then flopped over and buried his face in his pillow.

Earlier that morning, he'd walked the fifteen minutes to Justinian's campus, and after taking a look around had entered the Barnes and Noble to pick up his textbooks. Unfortunately, he'd failed to anticipate his books being large enough to require a two-foot-long cardboard box, and heavy enough to crush a human being if dropped from the right height. By the time he got them back to the house, his pale, pathetic noodle-arms were shaking with exhaustion; even his feet were sore from pounding the sidewalk. He wanted to start on his first assignments, but he didn't think he could pick up his Torts book to read it. So he was taking a break.

Which really meant he was working himself into a frenzy of nerves because he wasn't doing anything and law school started tomorrow and oh god oh lord jesus he wasn't ready.

At this rate he would go to class and end up in the wrong room, or get there too late, or too early, or be underdressed, or overdressed, and he would look unprepared, he would BE unprepared, and he would be cold-called, and he wouldn't know the answer, and everyone would look at him and think he was an idiot, and how did he even get into this school anyway… The thoughts went on and on and on. He should have spent some time working instead of coming straight from undergrad. He had a STEM degree, who in their right mind went to law school with a STEM degree? Patent lawyers, he reminded himself. That was what he was going to become, what he was here for. He could do it. He had to. Or he would be a laughing stock.

Maybe he would be a laughing stock either way…

He groaned and rolled out of the bed, his arms still flopping uselessly. He crawled over to where he'd left his books, still in their box, and pulled out the huge blue volume of Torts cases. He dragged the book up to the desk and flipped open his laptop, wiggled his fingers to bring some life back into his hands, and got down to work.

About two minutes later, there was a knock at his door. Scowling furiously at the interruption, he stomped over to the door and swung it open.

He'd been expecting to see Archie Kennedy, but instead found himself looking at a totally unfamiliar face. It was a man, older than himself by at least a couple of years, with brown hair and piercing blue eyes. He wore a pair of rumpled jeans and a dark green shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and his hand was extended. "Hi," he said, looking a little cautious. "Sorry to disturb. I'm Will Bush; I've got the room downstairs."

Horatio shook the hand and found himself locked in a rough, vise-like grip which he feared would snap his own twiggy digits in half. "Hhhhi," he wheezed. "I'm- I'm Horatio. Hornblower."

"Nice to meet you." Bush let go of his hand and hooked his thumbs into his pockets. Thankfully, he hadn't commented on Horatio's ridiculous name. That didn't mean he wasn't laughing at it in his head, though. "You're a 1L, too, right?" he said conversationally.

Horatio cleared his throat. "...Yes."

"...Cool." Bush, for some reason, seemed determined to make small talk. "Where are you from?"

"Newark."

"Ah. So do you think you'll practice in New Jersey, or New York? Or are you planning on staying in Philadelphia?"

Horatio shrugged.

"Which section are you in?"

"Two."

"So am I." Bush smiled. "And I think Archie is, too."

"..."

"I mean, that's convenient. We have all the same classes. We could form a study group and never have to leave the house."

Horatio frowned. "Sorry, but I don't study in… groups."

Bush blinked. "...Ah. Okay." He stood silently for a moment, looking like he was trying to find a way to save the conversation, but ultimately came up with nothing. "Well then. Uh, good meeting you. I'll let you get back to…?"

"Torts."

"Right." Bush nodded, gave him one last glance, and headed down the stairs. Horatio noticed he seemed to be going very carefully, his burly hand gripping the rail. He wondered briefly what that was all about, but concluded that the stairs were narrow and steep, so caution was likely warranted. He was sure he'd fall up/down them eventually, probably with a cup of coffee in his hand. Maybe that was how he'd start his first day.

Feeling distinctly gloomy, he returned to his work. Brown v. Kendall… two dogs fighting, struck with a stick…

He'd made a terrible first impression.

… one of the first appearances in American jurisprudence…

At least it hadn't been worse than the one he'd made on Archie. Who'd thought he was an intruder and almost murdered him with a bike lock.

… reasonable person standard…

Why did he always have to be so awkward?

...whether the trial court was correct in instructing the jury that the defendant… or whether the trial court erred in… whether…

He groaned and leaned back in his chair. He wasn't absorbing anything. And his housemates already disliked him.

So, basically, things were going just as expected.

Archie made his way to his own room on the second floor, determined to do at least some homework. He picked up his Contracts book, stared at it, then put it back down and flopped onto his bed, where he pulled out his phone and allowed himself to be sucked into an endless vortex of terrible theatre memes.

What am I doing here? he wondered, briefly, though of course he knew the answer. He was going to be a lawyer because his father was a lawyer, and his mother was a lawyer, and his two older brothers were lawyers, and the massive firm of Kennedy, Kennedy, Kennedy & Kennedy had decided its name needed to be even worse. It was hard to argue with a family that had made millions in New York BigLaw when all he'd managed to do on his own was wind up living in his Ford Taurus and working at the shittiest Olive Garden in LA.

The memory of his wildly unsuccessful "gap year" brought a twinge of shame with it, which he suppressed and put out of his mind immediately. He knew what could happen if he started down that path. At least he wasn't nervous about beginning his legal education. He liked reading, liked writing, and was fine with public speaking and even knew how to shake hands while holding both a wine glass and a plate of hors d'oeuvres at networking events. He just couldn't bring himself to care.

As if on cue, his phone started ringing, his dad's number showing up on the screen. He sighed and answered the call. "Hello?"

"Hey kid," said the voice of Harlan Robert Kennedy IV, Esquire. "I just wanted to wish you luck for tomorrow. Sorry I wasn't around to move you in, but the Xarelto case was just blowing up…"

"Yeah, sure," Archie said, not wanting to hear one more goddamn word about the Xarelto case. "Didn't stop you from furnishing the whole house, though. What am I supposed to do with all these desks and beds when I move out?"

"I don't know, leave 'em for the landlord," his dad said dismissively. "You wouldn't let me get you an apartment or pay your tuition, so I figured the least I could do was spice up your real estate. And you got housemates right away, right? You like 'em so far?"

"Yeah, they seem fine." In fact, Will seemed self-sufficient and unobtrusive, and Horatio was clearly the hermit type who never left his room except to get coffee, so Archie got the feeling he himself would end up the most annoying of the bunch. He hoped they didn't mind loud music.

"That's good." He could almost hear his dad grinning through the phone. "Just remember to have fun. But not too much fun. Justinian's not too tough, but it'll still be a slog, especially your first year. Don't spend too much time on your outlines, start doing practice exams early. And don't listen to your professors when they tell you they're teaching you to 'think like a lawyer;' that's bullcrap. The only thing that's important is the exam."

"Got it. Anything else?"

"Yeah. We're all proud of you, son."

Archie's breath caught in his throat. He hated talking to his family. It was because he hated how, even after everything, he was still afraid of disappointing them. And so he would never let on that this wasn't what he wanted. "Thanks, Dad," he muttered. "Listen, I gotta go. Have to get back to studying."

"Right. Go get 'em."

The call over, Archie got up out of bed and went downstairs. He needed to go somewhere and do something. He didn't know what it was yet, but he got the feeling it would probably involve some alcohol and not any Contracts homework.

That night found the three residents of 1793 Portsmouth St. lying awake, staring up at their respective ceilings. Tomorrow, they would be embarking together on an arduous three-year mission which would either end in riches and a fulfilling career, or a massive flaming ball of disaster and student debt. Not a single one of them knew where it would take them. But they all dreaded it immensely.

AN: So, please don't judge me for setting this AU in America... I had planned on doing a lot of research on British law schools for this, but after starting I actually discovered some things that would change the character dynamics I had in mind. For example, in England you can go to law school right after high school, so the degree you get is a bachelor's. This would make the characters younger than I wanted and would also make the age gap between Bush and the others less commonplace. And I just know a lot more about American law, so. My apologies.

Anyway, this fic came about because I saw a post on Tumblr somewhere asking for an AU where the HH characters were lawyers or businessmen... this is close enough, right?