museboxofmuses | Obligatory College AU

Prometheus groaned loud enough to wake the dead as he sprawled dramatically over the living room's sofa, his students' papers slipping out of his hand to scatter all over the carpet. Scrawled over the papers were a lot of red pen, and Prometheus's notoriously shit handwriting that was incomprehensible to all (including Prometheus himself).

His freshmen students were going to be the death of him.

"Not a single pass..." he grumbled, idly scratching at his bare stomach. It was a hot, summery weekend, so he was dressed accordingly (shorts and crop top obviously), but instead of getting to sun outside or do anything else fun, he had been stuck marking his students' papers for an unofficial 'end of term' test in preparation for their exams.

The freshmen did abysmally. Then again, they always did, but he always had at least one pass! Not this time! Ugh, the admins were going to start crawling up his ass again over this. They always did whenever more than 50% of his classes started failing, which was, uh, every term, really.

Prometheus pouted. It wasn't his fault that the students didn't understand basic and simple concepts!

He rolled onto his stomach, his arm dangling over the edge of the sofa, and morosely swatted at one of the papers littering the carpet. It wasn't just the admins, though. Hades was going to get on his case about this too. For some reason (Prometheus was blaming the admins), he started actually caring about how Prometheus taught his classes (probably because some of his students were under Prometheus's care, and they were a bunch of whiners who kept complaining about him to Hades). He'll be disappointed in him. Hades being disappointed in him was Awful.

Threaded | Flat

Hades opened the door looking just so much more tired than he normally did at this time of day. He made a beeline for the liquor cabinet and poured himself four fingers of whiskey, shook out a couple of pills from a bottle, and threw it all down the hatch. He turned around to face Prometheus spilled out on the couch and the papers littering the floor.

“Why, good afternoon, love of my life and bane of my existence. I see you’ve graded your finals. Would you like to know how my finals testing period went?” And without waiting a beat, “Very bad. I have to hold a make up exam tomorrow because I couldn’t get enough of my students to stop crying. So, in the interest of everyone, I will be throwing those away now.”

And then he did actually stoop to the floor to start gathering them up. He was dressed as he always was: sharp, fashionable, and looking like the moneyed man that he was. Of course, he had earned everything that he had these days. He was the chair of his department, and through yearly arm twisting, Prometheus’ class stayed mandatory. It was Hades’ arm that was twisted, of course. The biology department ensured that they only had to deal with him for four classes out of the year which was really still straining them.

(“Well, he’s your boyfriend, isn’t he?” the biology chair asked with tired desperation. “You deal with him.”)

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