MARSTON ━︎━︎ PROFESSOR MARSTON

chapter nine - ❝professor green-eyed monster❞

SYNOPSIS — After a week of growing closer to Y/N, Andrew has not stopped thinking about them. But someone else is present in Y/N's eye.

CHAPTER WARNINGS — mentions of marijuana/under the influence

HAPPY BIRTHDAY SAKU <3 EAT LOTS OF CRUMPETS

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A N D R E W

"HOW you take your coffee is just mad," I hear Angela say to Jean-Marc.

"Some of my students keep falling asleep in my class," he explains. "It's starting to make me wanna cushion my head on the desk for twenty minutes."

I can't picture faculty without anyone like Jean-Marc. He and I have spoken hybrid, but broken, French-English ever since I got hired at the university, and I'm certain he dreams of dominating the literature department one day. He uses his part-time teaching as a cushion when he prefers to not work from home, and if anything, Angela would be helping him build his empire. It's something I admired from the department, a bunch of professionals sharing one thing in common that helps us make a living.

"Andrew! How was the new module?" Jean-Marc asks me.

"Just right. Chris was able to send it before the weekend."

"Ce n'était trop pas?"

I shook my head. "Pas trop. Assez bon."

Someone bangs on the door so aggressively as if we were being raided, making all three of us jump. The coffee we were all drinking would have enhanced the rapid heart palpitations we would have been getting if it wasn't either a student or faculty, God forbid.

Angela walked over to open it.

I wish she hadn't done that.

The Maths professor smiles sheepishly. "The other lounge is out of milk and sugar." He rushes over to the counters, frantically rummaging through the cabinets and bins. Through the ruckus, the three of us looked at each other. He was always on the go, but right now he was a tornado. I was hoping he would not try to spark a conversation with me, especially in a room he's not even supposed to be in unless he decided to switch his field of study.

"Fadden..." Angela slowly stirred the spoon in her mug. "Are you all right?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" he asks.

"Because you're stuffing all of the packets in your pockets. Are you planning on robbing the campus café, too?"

I shook the sugar packet, the one he— Fadden, didn't take. So I finally learned his name, either his first or last.

"I just needed to grab a few—"

"That's a few?" We all looked at the mighty handful he was carrying. He shakes his head, a bit irritated. "I like my coffee flavoured and enhanced than Jean-Marc's," he grins over at the French man. "Ouais?"

Jean-Marc stares blankly at him.

"Professor Fadden," I call him by the only name to my knowledge thus far. "Jean-Marc and I will be discussing some material to Angela. Er- you owe us more milk and sugar." I stare at the empty bin.

He scoffs at me. "All right, kid." He slaps me on the shoulder, grabs the sugar packet out of my hand, and walks out.

I inhaled sharply. It wasn't the first time being called that, neither that I wasn't getting sick of it. "Well, looks like I'm drinking black coffee today." Not a thank you, not a goodbye. Not even at least one pack of sugar. I'm sure that was how my former partner liked his coffee. If I took one sip of it, which I know I don't want to so I won't, it's going down the drain.