community college au

amidalarama:

History Department Happy Hour (a budding tradition)

“Have you ever actually made one of these before?” James asked blearily, glaring down at the assemblage of tiny wooden pieces before them, all trapped neatly in a mid-sized glass bottle. He took another swig of rum in hopes it would make the project before him seem more sensible. It didn’t.

“Well,” Hal said, hedging in the same way he always did when he was about to shoot down one of James’s dreams for piss-poor reasons like we have no room in the budget, you bloody idiot or no student is going to sign up for a course on early 18th century piracy if you make 12 credits of military history a prerequisite, “not in the strictest sense, no. I watched my buddy Cregg do it once, though, and anything that man can manage sober I can certainly manage blind drunk.”

James huffed, poking at the glass bottle. Hal shooed his hand away, and he returned to nursing his cup. It was the cheap red plastic kind that was abundant on Nassau’s campus; he’d long ago given up on bothering with anything nicer. He’d once brought in a mug from home only to find it mysteriously replaced with a ceramic model of a red solo cup, which had seemed as undeniable a sign as any.

“Ahah!” Hal cried, clicking a newly-discovered pair of tweezers triumphantly. He nudged James with his elbow. “See, now we’ve got all we need to get this baby started.”

James hummed doubtfully, but dutifully opened up the hundred-pages long instruction manual laying on Gates’s desk. “Never doubt my respect for you as a colleague and a friend,” he said solemnly, ignoring Gates’s guffawing.