The Tell Off — Cathy Brown x OC
Summary: When Cathy's professor oversteps his boundaries, Jodie and Agnes team up to put him in his place on Cathy's behalf.
Word Count: 1,114
Tags: Protective Characters, Sexual Harassment (Implied/Referenced), Comfort/Support, Humor
It had started with a look. Then a few comments. Too many, in fact, and each one just a little too familiar, a little too slick.
Cathy hadn’t said anything at first. After all, she was used to men flirting—pubs, lectures, funerals, didn’t seem to matter—but this wasn’t just some bloke making a pass. This was Professor Clowne, the head of her course, a man nearly old enough to be her father. And now, apparently, he thought a passing grade could be earned with a smile and a drink at Foley’s.
He’d cornered her after a lecture and had handed back her paper with a glint in his eye. “You know, Cathy,” he said, “you’re very bright. A lot of potential. But sometimes potential just needs a little encouragement. Maybe we could grab a coffee sometime? Talk about where you want to go next.”
Cathy blinked, unsure what he was angling at, and if she should be concerned. “Next…?”
“With your studies, of course,” he added, though his eyes darted to her blouse, barely even trying to hide it. “Unless there’s somewhere else you’d rather go.”
She laughed awkwardly, the kind of laugh that tried to keep the air light but tasted like vinegar in her throat. She made some excuse and left, but by the time she got home, her hands were shaking.
Jodie noticed it right away. Cathy was never jittery, not unless Agnes had gone through her personal belongings again. She was standing at the kettle, listening to it whistle loud enough that she should have picked it up several minutes ago.
“Hey,” Jodie said softly, removing the kettle from the heat. “You okay?”
Cathy nodded too quickly. “Fine. Just tired.”
Jodie tilted her head. “Cathy.”
And that’s all it took.
Within minutes, Cathy had spilled everything about Professor Clowne’s comment, the leer, the subtle innuendo laden beneath his “coffee invitation”. Jodie’s face hardened, her usual calm blue eyes going all stormy. She reached out, took Cathy’s hand, and gave it a squeeze.
“I’m going to kill him.”
“No,” Cathy said, but weakly. “You can’t. That’s not— I mean, what if I’m overreacting?”
“You’re not. He made you uncomfortable, and that’s enough for me. He can’t just get away with that.”
Just then, Agnes walked in with a tea towel over her shoulder and clearly having overheard part of the conversation.
“What’s all this then? Who can’t get away with what? Is Grandad in there without his pants again? I’ll wallop the old sod.”
Cathy groaned. She hadn’t wanted Jodie to get involved and she certainly hadn’t wanted her mother to get in on it.
Agnes narrowed her eyes. “Well, go on. Spit it out. Somebody better tell me before I start guessing.”
When they did, Agnes didn’t yell. She didn’t even make a joke, which was somehow worse. She just pressed her lips into a thin line and said, “Right. I’ll get my coat.”
Jodie and Agnes took off for the college as soon as they pulled the location of Professor Clowne’s office out of Cathy. Agnes was wearing a floral sweater that clashed with her patterned skirt, on purpose, she claimed, to “disorient the bastard”. Jodie donned her favorite black leather jacket, aiming for an air of intimidation. She meant business.
Professor Clowne was in his office, sitting smug behind his desk with a shelf full of dusty awards and a photo of himself shaking hands with some minor politician from 1987. When the knock came, he looked up, expecting another wide eyed student looking to get into his good graces.
Instead, he got Jodie. “Hello,” she said, her voice coming off pleasant but sharp. “You and I need to talk, and before you ask, I’m the girlfriend of Cathy Brown.” He opened his mouth, but Jodie didn’t let him get a word in. “That’s right, girlfriend, not that it seems to matter to you.”
Again, he attempted a reply, but he could answer, Agnes stepped in behind her like an avenging angel with a handbag full of righteous fury.
“And I’m her mother,” she announced. “And Clowne is certainly a suitable name for the likes of you.”
Clowne blinked. “This is highly irregular—”
“Oh good, so we’re all on the same page then,” Jodie snapped.
“I don’t know what you’ve been told—”
“You suggested she go for coffee in exchange for ‘encouragement,’” Jodie said, folding her arms. “Last I checked, professors don’t grade with their trousers.”
Agnes leaned over his desk. “You know, in some cultures, they’d cut your hands off for that kind of thing. In mine, we just slap you so hard you forget your own postal code.”
Clowne stood up, trying to regain authority. “I won’t be spoken to like this. I have tenure!”
Agnes snorted. “So does me bloody sofa.”
“I think you’re misinterpreting the situation,” he tried, clearly afraid of escalating the situation more.
Jodie stepped forward now, calm and cold. “Let me be clear. Cathy will not be going for coffee. She won’t be getting extra encouragement, either. She’ll be getting the grade she earns, the same as anyone else, which have been exemplar up to this point. And if she hears one more word, one more offhand remark, or one tiny glance that makes her feel unsafe, I’ll make sure this whole campus knows what kind of lech is handing out good midterm grades like favors.”
Professor Clowne’s face turned the color of weak tea. Agnes straightened, patting Jodie on the back supportively. “Now then. If you really care about education, maybe brush up on professional boundaries. They’re all the rage these days,” Jodie finished.
Jodie gave one last glance over her shoulder before leaving, as Agnes chimed in. “And don’t worry. Cathy has plenty of people in her corner. You mess with her again, you won’t just lose your job.”
Back at home, Cathy waited nervously, wondering if she’d made a mistake, if it would all somehow backfire. But when Jodie walked through the door with that fierce light in her eyes, and Agnes muttering something about “putting the fear of God into that greasy bollocks,” Cathy felt a weight lift.
“You didn’t have to—” she started.
“Yes, we did,” Jodie said, kissing her cheek. “No one gets to treat you like that. Not while I’m around.”
“And not while I’m your mother,” Agnes added.
Cathy laughed, leaning into Jodie’s arms.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “Both of you.”
Agnes waved her off. “Don’t thank me yet. I told that Clowne I’d be attending his next lecture. Front row. Crochet needles in hand. Let’s see how well he lectures when he’s worried I might stitch him to the podium.”
Forever Tag: @kmc1989, @fanficanatic-tw, @immyowndefender, @teasingguts
Jodie Rourke: @casserole-from-dads-asserole
