Chapter Text
“‘Scuse me,” Azriel looked up to find one of his classmates—Lucien, he thought the guy’s name was. “Is there any way I could join y’all’s group? My partner just texted me, apparently he dropped this class last week and just forgot to tell me—”
“Don’t fucking tell me—” Cassian cut him off. “You were Tamlin’s partner, right?”
“How—do you know him?” The man—yeah, his name was definitely Lucien. His ‘weird fact’ at the beginning of the semester was that one of his eyes was glass. Azriel tried to avoid figuring out which one it was while he looked at the man.
“One of our friends dated him last year,” Azriel offered mildly. Azriel was glad Tamlin had dropped the class. After what Feyre had told them about the guy…
“Real piece of work,” Cassian finished. “Did the prof say we can work in groups of three? I wasn’t paying attention.”
“Uh, yeah, I asked him—he just told me ‘pick a pair and pray they say yes’. I know it’s kinda late in the semester—”
“Don’t worry about it,” Cassian shrugged, “You seem smart. I don’t see how it would hurt having another member working on this fucking project.”
“I—thank you,” Lucien nodded, and it was definitely his right eye that was glass, it had to be.
“It’s my left, actually,” Lucien said to Azriel, and the man had either read his mind or Azriel had said something out loud because—“I’d prove it, but I only take it out when I’m cleaning it or when I’m drunk.”
Cassian was blinking owlishly from beside Azriel.
“What the hell are we talking about?” he asked a moment later.
“Nothing,” Azriel said, and Cassian shrugged, standing from his seat.
“We’re allowed to leave, right?” Cassian asked, stretching and filling his bookbag. The lecture hall was half empty.
“Yeah, I think so,” Lucien said, scratching the back of his neck.
“Sick. Do you have any more classes? We were gonna head back to the house. You’re free to come—we could probably hammer out the first draft like… tonight, if we spend the day on it.”
“This is my last class on Fridays. Where do you live?”
“Just off campus,” Azriel said. “It's a fifteen minute walk from here—north.”
“Awesome,” Lucien smiled. “I’m down if y’all are.”
“So, what are you majoring in?” Cassian asked Lucien when they were out of the building.
“IR.” International Relations. Huh. “And you?”
“Military History.”
“This class is right up your alley, then,” Lucien responded. Azriel cringed. He’d heard the rant Cassian was about to rant about half a dozen times already.
“You’d fucking think so,” Cassian spat, kicking a rock, and here we go . “The prof totes some great love of military history and then refuses to look at anything before the Napoleonic wars. I asked him about it, and he said they ‘weren’t his thing.’ Motherfucker, how do you look at the Roman invasion on the British Isles and have the audacity to say it's ‘not your thing’. Fuck off with that shit.”
“He talked about the Scandinavian Crusades last week,” Lucien said.
“Yeah, in the context of World War Two!”
“Well,” Lucien pivoted to Azriel, “What are you majoring in?”
“International Security,” Azriel said, and that was the end of that conversation.
“You live on frat row?” Lucien asked 15 minutes later.
“No, ” Cassian said, “We live adjacent to frat row.”
“Ah,” Lucien said, disbelieving.
The house was… fine, in Azriel’s opinion. After that brief stint of homelessness in high school, before Cass and Rhys had found him, anything with a roof was fine for Az. Great, even. Rent was affordable enough, there were no RAs, and if any of them wanted to go to a party, there was usually one within a quarter mile.
“We’ll give you a tour,” Cassian said grinning, pulling his keys from his pocket.
Before he could unlock the door, it flung open. Azriel watched smoke billow out from the sitting room. Rhys coughed, waving smoke from his face as he stepped onto the porch.
“Feyre tried to make lunch,” he explained before anyone said anything.
Azriel tried his damndest to keep his smile to himself.
“Give it five minutes,” Rhys said with a smile. “Who’s this?”
“This is Lucien,” Azriel said. “He’s joining our group project.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Lucien.” Rhys said with a nod, “I’m Rhys. My girlfriend Feyre is the one currently burning the house down. Amren is with Varian this week, and who the hell knows where Mor is these days, but I’m sure you’ll meet her at some point. What are you majoring in?”
“IR. You?”
“Business. But I’m not a douchey business major! I promise,” Rhys finished with a grin. “Okay, I think we can go back inside without developing black lung.”
“Please let me make dinner tonight,” Azriel pleaded. If he ate pasta or takeout one more time this week, he might mutiny.
Feyre was swearing like a sailor when they reached the kitchen.
“Az!” She yelled over the beeping fire alarm. “Help!”
Azriel turned to Cass and Lucien. “Give me 10 minutes.”
Twenty minutes later, Azriel, Cass, and Lucien were sitting at the dining room table, laptops out. They quickly realized that Lucien was able to rework some of the work he had done with Tamlin, which cut off a couple hours, and the trio quickly fell into a quiet groove as they worked. Lucien made polite conversation throughout, asking the appropriate questions college students asked each other—questions like: “what made you choose your major?” “What if I approached this paragraph from an anthropological lens, do you think he’ll dock points?” “What did you get on essay one?” and “What on Earth do you mean ‘Rhys is technically a millionaire’?”
A few hours in, once the sun was low in the sky, Azriel turned to Cassian. Lucien had gone to the bathroom.
“You like him.”
Cassian scoffed. “Yeah, he’s smart. He listened to me rant about Caesar.”
“Idiot,” Azriel kicked him under the table. “You like him.”
Cassian laughed, hearty and full. Azriel watched his face shift from amusement to consideration to—“Fuck. You’re right.”
Azriel chuckled.
“Well, I guess that makes two of us,” Cassian finished, shrugging.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Oh, two can play at this game, dumbass. You like him as much as I do. You laugh at his jokes.”
“They’re funny jokes,” Azriel said, half amused.
“Rhys makes ‘funny jokes’ and you don’t laugh at those.”
“Rhys doesn’t need anyone else boosting his ego,” Azriel countered, leaning back in his seat. He could argue this all day.
“And this guy does? Come on, you’re both doing your political science… thing. He’s smart, he’s funny. You like him too, asshole.”
“So now I’m into everyone who’s also pursuing political science?”
“Well he’s hot too, which helps.”
Azriel sighed. He… he was hot. But—well—
“Fuck you,” Az said finally.
Cassian was still laughing when Lucien returned from the bathroom.
“Something I said?” he said with a smile, sitting back down. “Oh, I was thinking—source… two? I think? I think we can use it in part two if we reformat it a bit.”
“Good plan!” Cass said a moment later, shooting a knowing look to Azriel when Lucien wasn't looking.
Fuck you , Az mouthed.