#drunk professor

[chamxmxle]

Drunk professor eye fucking one of his colleagues across the bar as he leans in too close to his conversation with his doctoral candidate. His hand on the grad student's knee, sliding up their thigh, his eyes still locked to the other professor.

[chamxmxle]

Hungover professor sleeping on the couch in his office because he can't miss another department meeting. When his TA brings him coffee, he's a little too soft, a little too bleary, typical severity melted by headache and nausea. His hand gropes blindly for the grad student's wrist as he murmurs out thoughtless praise, tugging them back over.

"You're always so good for me..."

[chamxmxle]

A few nights ago, I got halfway through a piece I'm writing about drunk professor and loyal TA at Christmas (but in a standard stye, with OCs and all, not an x reader fic) and it's a long one. And, like all of my long original fiction, will probably only get a few readers. (Not looking for sympathy; Tumblr just isn't the place for context-free original characters! And that's fine.)

But I hope you all look forward to it? I may post it tonight if it's in the right state.

[chamxmxle]

Daydrinking professor who gets a little too sloppy during his office hours because he knows his loyal TA will cover for him

Doesn't even mind the gentle chastisement. Likes it, maybe.

"starting already today, huh?"

[chamxmxle]

you know, I can't help fantasizing about being a hopeless student of yours

bursting through the door to your office one evening, drunk, babbling and mere days away from failing your class. id do anything if you'd just pass me, waive a bad grade, look the other way.

id promise to do good, be good, for you, in exchange.

Wow. Well. What a fun idea.

It's natural to have these fantasies. It would, of course be incredibly unethical for someone in that position to take advantage of someone like that. Even in this vulnerable state - that is, especially in this vulnerable state - that is, no matter how enticing that state may be...

Whoa, there, careful. Let me just... Yes, good, sit right here. Now, ah, what was I saying? You're swaying quite a bit. You had a lot to drink tonight, didn't you? I understand. You must be stressed, I know a lot is riding on this class. I'm no stranger to drowning my troubles, myself you know...

What? Try again, I couldn't quite understand -- ah. No, no, that's a bad idea. You've had more than enough. As is anything else you may be... Suggesting. Highly inappropriate. As I was saying, it's natural to have these feelings, but it's my job not to act on them. No matter how... Well.

What? Oh, nothing. I wasn't saying anything. Don't worry about it. Now, let me help you up, here - oh, dear, you're just hopeless, aren't you? Lean on me, now. There we go. Let's get you all cleaned up, and later we can figure something out about your grade.

Now, if you ever find yourself in this state again, don't do anything stupid, okay? Not everyone will be as restrained as me. Promise you'll come find me instead, and I'll make sure you're taken care of. Now. Swear it.

Good.

[chamxmxle]

Will we get more Canon about William and Levi i.e. Drunk Professor and loyal TA? I adored their intox version and I'm craving for more. Please...

Oh, my goodness, you have no idea how happy this made me. I've been having a rough night (week month) and this really brightened it up. William and Levi are my precious darlings!

As a treat, here's a draft I started working on in late January and never managed to get quite right, with a new ending just for you.

(SFW, drinking, mostly just a cute little atmospheric fluff piece)

"Sláinte's probably open," the professor says, standing in front of the dark window, using it as a mirror as he adjusts his sweater. Damn. Rumpled to hell from three hours of meetings. "Last time a blizzard rolled through, Barry kept it open late and slept behind the bar. Told me it was worth it for the tips."

And his tie is crooked, too. No, this is a lost cause. William yanks it sideways, untying it in a swift motion.

"That's a walk," Levi complains, perched on the edge of the desk. "How about Joyce? It's close -- and they have good whiskey, so don't even start. I checked."

"Don't the undergrads hang out there?" the professor says, glancing quickly at the TA. The way he's just leaning against that desk... He's getting far too comfortable in here. With this arrangement.

Whose fault is that, old man? something whispers in the back of Will's mind.

"You're trying to get me in trouble," he continues. He pulls the tie off in its entirety and begins to swiftly tie it again.

"They card. You'll hardly be around teenagers," Levi says, pushing himself off lazily from the desk. His eyes are fixed on the movement of William's hands as he makes the knot. Quickly. Efficiently.

"You're good at that," Levi says, slowly.

"What?"

William pauses, struck by Levi's advance as much as the statement. He recovers quickly, continuing.

"I suppose so," he agrees, adjusting the knot, tugging on the tail. "I have a lot of experience."

"With knots?" Levi asks.

That's bold. Levi is getting so fucking bold. William looks at him, cocking a bushy eyebrow over the rim of his glasses.

"Yes. With tie knots. What else?"

It's fixed. He tucks the tail in, admiring what little he can see of his handiwork in the dark glass of the window.

"You know," Levi says, ignoring the question entirely, "we could just stay in. You have enough whiskey. Better stuff than Barry's got, too."

The suggestion lands slowly, working through William's mind like thick honey, sweet and seductive. Stay in. With Levi.

Like Christmas.

"No, no," he says, quickly, straightening. "We brave the blizzard with our compatriots. Come, Mr. Caldwell. We'll try this, ah, Joyce of yours."

William is, for once, not drunk. Which is good, actually, because Levi is near incomprehensible. Part of that might be his accent, which seems to have run loose of its leash without Sober Levi at the lead.

He seems to have become fixated on William's damn tie again.

"Will- William," he slurs to something just to the left of Will's shoulder. "How'd'ya get so good at tying a tie, anyway? I bet I could do it if-- now, jus'-- c'mon, now, jusshold still a sec-- dont'cha move..."

He reaches out unsteadily, missing the tie and brushing the collar of William's shirt instead. Will prays the boy doesn't notice the flush creeping up his neck at the touch. Not that he seems capable of noticing much right now, anyway.

"Damn hands," Levi mutters, half to himself. "Not like yours. You got real steady hands, y'know that?"

He swallows a hiccup.

William should absolutely be putting a stop to this. Instead, he hears himself speak.

"Steady hands?"

"Yeah. Real... real focused."

Levi's own hands have found the tie now, but they're not untying it. His fingers stroke the silk instead, almost absent-mindedly.

"Your hands are always so... steady," he repeats. "They're... they're distracting."

William smiles to himself. This shouldn't be endearing. He's just about to gently suggest that Levi start the walk back to his housing when the younger man leans in. He's close enough to smell him; tea tree shampoo and that lavender moisturizer he uses on his hands.

Too close. William stiffens and moves to pull away, but Levi sways after him, chasing his ear.

"What else can they tie?" he murmurs.

Shit.

William stands, abruptly.

"Right," he says, too loudly. The faux cheerfulness wouldn't convince anyone else - doesn't convince the patrons sitting near them that look over with expressions of mild alarm at the motion and volume - but Levi is too far gone to notice anything amiss. "That's enough of that. Get your coat, Mr. Caldwell."

His heart is pounding.

Levi blinks up at him, slow and unfocused, like it takes a second for the words to land.

"Mm?" he says intelligently.

"Your coat," William repeats, more quietly now. "Come along."

There's a pause where it seems like Levi might argue - Sober Levi might have, so used to pushing back against the professor, now - but instead, he only nods. He pushes himself up instead, overshooting it slightly and catching himself on the table with a dull thunk.

"'m fine," he mutters. "Jus'... jus', uh, floor moved."

"I'm sure it did."

He helps the boy into the coat and then, somewhat against his better judgment, assists him to the door. By the time they're outside, Levi has drifted closer; he's not quite leaning, but he's close enough that William can feel his heat brace against his own wool and warmth when they open the door to the swirling white storm.

"Hell," Levi says, voice thick with whiskey and Appalachia. "Thassa lotta weather."

"Indeed," William says, just as Levi tilts dangerously. He wraps his arm around his waist, trying not to think about the word steady.

By the time they get to Levi's door, he's glad Levi choice Joyce. Closer was better. He wishes they had stayed in, suddenly. Wishes he'd had another drink. Wishes he'd had several.

"This is yours," he says, looking up at the university provided brownstone. But Levi is looking dubiously at the stairs, and Will nods.

The living room is small, and cluttered (unexpected, for fastidious little Levi; it's something of a surprise) and smells like day old coffee. William finds the slouching old leather couch that looks like it's seen better days (three decades ago, maybe) and parks Levi in front of it.

"Sit."

Levi does, immediately, like a puppet with its strings cut. his eyes find Will's with some effort, and the older man feels something shift.

He doesn't know what he's thinking. Before he knows it, he reaches down and adjusts Levi's collar, smoothing it flat where it's twisted.

His hands are steady.

He withdraws them quickly.

"Sleep it off," he says, more brusque than he intends.

Levi hums something that might be agreement.

William doesn't linger.

[chamxmxle]

Loyal TA does their best to warn the students away from Sláinte on St. Patrick's Day. They don't want to see Drunk Professor there, they say, forcing them into drinking songs and regaling them with folktales.

It's no use. Every year, a handful show up anyway, buying him more rounds and giggling until Drunk Professor has to be helped out the door.

[chamxmxle]

Loyal TA checking in on drunk professor because he seemed a little more tired than usual today. Drinking from an unfamiliar travel mug, nearly stumbling during his lecture this morning. They have coffee, and a bagel, and just the right excuse if professor needs to catch an Uber home or sleep it off.

But when they arrive, the Dean is already there. TA stands quietly outside the door, watching through the small window. They can't hear them, but they don't have to: the Dean is leaning over the professor, one hand on his shoulder. The other plays with his hair. Their head is tilted like they're asking a question, eyebrows raising in expectation.

The professor leans into the touch, eyelids heavy. Even from outside, the TA can read his lips.

"Whatever you say."