Professor Flynn Carsen and a particular visiting professor get quite tipsy at a faculty party.
Set roughly two years before Retreats are for Relaxing.
Also posted on my Ao3.
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Flynn wasn’t much of a partier when he was in school, and that carried over to when he became a professor. He knew house parties were good ways to be more personable with his colleagues, but all the social cues he had to pay attention to were annoying to say the least.
He about didn’t go to this party. He had just spent a stressful week grading subpar papers and welcoming the visiting professor from Cambridge...well the papers were the usual professor stress, the visiting professor was making Flynn forget he had the work to do. Dr. Darrington Dare was spectacularly brilliant, and elegantly handsome, and Flynn spent more time than he should’ve talking with him. When Darrington said he was going to Dr. Sanchez’s house party Friday night, well, Flynn was going to be there too then.
Darrington...and the five other faculty invited to the party...were there when Flynn arrived fashionably late (the first time ever fashion was the reason for his tardiness and not him being distracted). Everyone looked at him, but he only really noticed Darrington, who had stepped the late Victorian London academic look up a tasteful notch, certainly enough to catch Flynn’s eye anyway. A modern record player with two speakers played smooth jazz, which filled the couple seconds of silence until people went back to conversing.
“Flynn! My, you look dashing this evening,” Darrington greeted with a warm smile, shaking Flynn’s hand.
“I uh, well I can certainly say the same about you, Darrington,” Flynn said, internally sighing with relief that he didn’t start the night with saying something ridiculous.
“You arrived just in time. Dinner should be ready any minute now.” Darrington led him into the living room towards a couple other professors chatting while sitting in sleek armchairs.
Fortunately for Flynn he didn’t have to make small talk much; Dr. Sanchez appeared from the kitchen less than a minute later. “Okay everyone, time to reward your palettes.”
Everyone filed in to her dining room. Flynn ended up sitting across from Darrington, which he learned almost immediately was a bad idea because then Darrington took up the center of his field of view, and Flynn was practically unable to keep himself from studying Darrington’s face. He tried to make himself focus on his food and drink, which did a fair job at occupying his attention.
Dr. Sanchez was a master at pairing wines with her three course meals. Flynn normally didn’t get tipsy at her parties, but Darrington seemed intent on keeping Flynn’s glass topped up with whatever wine was with each course. By dessert Flynn was fairly aware of his growing intoxication, and quite aware of the precise shade of slate blue that was Darington’s eyes.
Darrington clearly had been keeping his own glass topped up, including indulging in the champagne one of the faculty brought for after the meal. Not that Darrington was reserved about friendly touches and gestures when sober, but during the usual post meal discussions happening in the living room, he certainly was invading Flynn’s space a lot more. First it was just a hand lingering on Flynn’s upper arm when he wanted Flynn’s reaction as he recounted a dramatic story, and then an arm around Flynn’s shoulders when he told an exciting story, like he had to physically keep Flynn’s attention even though that was quite unnecessary.
By the time Flynn and Darrington were by themselves, they were both thoroughly tipsy, borderline drunk. They got well into a conversation on a section of the Prose Edda when Darrington glanced over to the record player as the song changed. He looked back to Flynn like he had a brilliant idea and grabbed Flynn by the elbows. “Flynn, dance with me.”
Flynn blinked at Darrington until his brain caught up with the sudden subject shift. “Uh, yeah, sure,” Flynn responded eloquently. Darrington released Flynn, then offered him a hand in a more formal manner as he led Flynn to the most open area of the living room. Fortunately Flynn’s muscle memory of the dance classes he took years ago helped counter his not so steady steps, but only to a point.
Darrington nodded at Flynn’s proper dancing posture. “You know how to do the foxtrot?”
“Yes, but it’s easier to do when my feet aren’t fuzzy...I mean my head, the champagne,” Flynn rambled, feeling his face go red.
“Don’t worry, this song is slow. I’ll lead,” Darrington said with an endearing smile, his own face a little flush from the alcohol.
They made it about five steps in before Flynn stumbled. Flynn attempted to counter his misstep to keep them on beat, but it just made Darrington stumble as well, enough that Flynn had to pull Darrington back against himself to keep Darrington from having a seat on the floor, which meant they were now flush against each other. Flynn giggled before he realized what he was doing, which got Darrington to chuckle, and then because they were inebriated enough, they both laughed for a good ten seconds.
“It’s a good thing we didn’t attempt the Charleston,” Flynn mused, looking off to the side now that their faces were less than a foot apart. Though apparently looking away was enough to throw Flynn off his balance again.
“I think it may help if you focus on me,” Darrington suggested. Flynn could feel Darrington’s eyes on his face, but he didn’t anticipate the look of utter infatuation Darrington was giving him. Looking at him did help prevent the tripping, mainly because Flynn’s legs went on autopilot while he got lost in in Darrinton’s eyes. “See? You make a fine partner, on and off the dance floor.”
“Well-” Flynn paused to swallow, definitely noticing Darrington’s eyes dart to his neck when he did “-I certainly try.” It was already hard enough to process what he was feeling, and coupled with him already being a bit loose lipped, Flynn continued rambling. “Though since you’re amazing I wouldn’t want to do anything less.”
“I’m amazing, am I?” Darrington said, voice dropping an octave.
Flynn missed the rhetorical question. “Most definitely. Not only are you just as widely skilled as myself, but you are charmingly refined, and-”
Darrington stopped them dancing. “Flynn…” he started, taking his outstretched hand to catch Flynn by the tip of his chin as Flynn often didn’t look at people when he rambled. Once Flynn was focused on him, Darrington glanced at Flynn’s lips, slowly drawing his eyes back up to Flynn’s. “I don’t think I’ve quite clarified how I feel about you.” When Flynn didn’t move away, he leaned forward and kissed him.
They kissed for a long ten or so seconds, pulling away slightly when they needed a breath. “I, uh, well, I feel the same way,” Flynn stammered.
“I gathered that much,” Darrington replied, eyes crinkling in amusement. “Would you care to continue?”
“Oh yes, I certainly would,” Flynn said, barely finishing his statement before his lips were back on Darrington’s, this time with less hesitation and much more passion.
All too soon after they resumed, someone cleared their throat loudly next to them. Darrington and Flynn pulled apart to see Dr. Sanchez. “While I’m happy you two finally dropped the un in unrequited, the party is kind of over now,” she said.
Flynn glanced around the room, realizing that indeed all their colleagues had apparently left. He couldn’t quite form words fast enough, but fortunately Darrington still had the ability to speak. “Thank you for the lovely meal, Beverly. Flynn and I will be on our way,” Darrington said, standing to the side of Flynn but still with an arm around his waist. He looked to Flynn. “My flat isn’t that far from here, just a short fifteen minute walk.”
“That sounds like a great idea,” Flynn said. After a moment he remembered Dr. Sanchez. “Good night, the party was wonderful.”
“I’m glad you two enjoyed yourselves...now get going before I have to chase you out with a broom,” Dr. Sanchez said with a laugh. A small part in the back of Flynn’s head felt embarrassed for that, but the rest of it was focused on Darrington, especially the hand in his that led him out of the house and to Darrington’s apartment.
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Post Notes: I just had to write this scene when I mentioned it in my other fic. I may be annoyed at the mess Dare caused the Librarians, but I certainly can’t deny how much I could see Flynn and Dare having a passionate romance...or at least being a bit loose lipped and in each other’s space when they drank too much wine anyway.
