Chapter Text
John Franklin was a man who carried himself importantly, held himself tall and proud. He was exceptionally pleased with himself most of the time: pleased with the department he ran, pleased with the research he was doing, pleased with the people he hired. He felt in his heart of hearts that he was doing the very best job that he could, and that for all the ability he had, it was a pretty damn good job at that.
Everyone else found him to be a moron. And nobody found him to be more of a moron than Francis Crozier, an accomplished physics professor and Franklin's second in command for his beloved arctic research project.
It wasn't that Franklin wasn't a good man, it was merely that this should not have been his calling. But mostly, he was well liked, even if he and Crozier had the occasional animated disagreement. He enjoyed leading and he enjoyed teaching, and those under him always appreciated his dedication to them.
This morning, however, Franklin bursting into the faculty lounge of Amundsen Hall with an especially self-satisfied grin warranted little more than an eye roll. It was barely eight a.m.; far too early for anything of the sort.
"Good morning everyone," he announced, as if he were talking to a lecture hall of 300 students rather than a handful of sleepy faculty members. "I would like to introduce our newest professor here: James Fitzjames."
Fitzjames had strode into the room behind Franklin and offered a smile and wave that could truly only be described as politely ingratiating in the most irritating way possible. Crozier barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes.
"Hello, everyone. I'll be teaching British Literature in this building. And seeing as how it's the first day of term and I'm bound to be seeing you all quite a bit, I thought I should make a proper introduction." He set a bakery box down on the table. "I brought muffins. Please take some."
Crozier was perfectly happy to ignore Fitzjames and continue sipping his black, rather bitter coffee, but he had no such luck. Franklin, clearly dissatisfied with Fitzjames' reception, announced "Let's all go around the table and introduce ourselves properly, no? Thomas, why don't you go first."
Thomas Blanky was one of Crozier's closest friends, but unlike Crozier, he had this unfailingly easy air about him. He was difficult to rattle, even when he was being goaded into an icebreaker like an undergraduate. "Hello, James," he said. "I'm Thomas Blanky. I teach quite a number of history classes here. It's lovely to meet you."
The other faculty members gave similar introductions, laughing politely when Fitzjames complimented them or joked around, a response which he clearly lived for. In fact, on top of showing no traces of tiredness despite the hour, Fitzjames seemed to be enjoying the attention immensely.
And then they got to Francis.
"Hello, James," Francis said, slight Irish accent betraying him. "I'm Francis Crozier. I teach Physics I and II, Nuclear and Particle Physics, and Polarity and Electromagnetism. Pleasure."
"My, what a slouch," Fitzjames joked, smile faltering when Francis simply grunted into his coffee mug without even a hint of a smile. What was his problem? Everyone else had been perfectly pleased to meet him. "Erm...do you do any research, Francis? Or just teach?"
"I used to do research, but I'm afraid I only teach now."
"A valiant calling. But then again, I'm terribly biased."
Everyone laughed politely again. Everyone, that is, except for Francis.
"Francis is a big part of the arctic research expedition," Franklin said, puffing out his chest minutely. "His experience in electromagnetism is going to be a great asset to us. In fact, it's a big part of why I was so very eager to bring him on."
"Yes, I remember you telling me about that," Fitzjames said. "I would love to be a part of it somehow, if I could."
That got Francis to look up.
"Of course! I'm sure we could find something suited to your skills, James. I love to reward enthusiasm."
Francis got up from the table just then. He was already beginning to fume over this. "If you'll excuse me, I've got an early class I need to prepare for."
"Oh?" Fitzjames asked, head cocked in quasi-interest. "What class is this?"
"Physics I."
Fitzjames paused. "You teach an 8:30 a.m. class for freshmen?"
"Much harder things about physics, only trying to prepare them. It was good to meet you, James--"
"Wait!" Fitzjames grabbed him as he headed for the door, and when he turned around, thrust the last blueberry muffin into his hands. "Only one left. You should have it."
"Oh, er. No thank you, I ate already."
"Please, I insist."
Of course he'd insist.
Francis eventually accepted the godforsaken muffin, and seethed with it all the way down to his lecture hall. The nerve of Fitzjames! Not even working a full day and already trying to horn in on the arctic research expedition. As a professor of British literature, no less! No wonder Franklin had hired him, they were clearly the same sort of feckless, overly polite sod that frustrated Francis and his eternal practicality to no end. Research expeditions to the far reaches of the earth were not the time to reward enthusiasm, for Christ's sake--
Francis was so lost in thought that he nearly steamrolled Thomas Jopson, one of his two Physics I TAs. "Oh! Jopson, I'm sorry. I was lost in thought."
"It isn't like you to bring breakfast in, Dr. Crozier."
Francis looked down and realized he sort of had a death-grip on the muffin, and forced his fist to relax. "Right. Well."
He continued toward the lecture hall and Jopson followed, a stride behind him like a faithful dog. When the lecture hall door slammed shut, his second TA, George Hodgson, popped up from a seat in the front row suddenly. His oddly gangly stance and wispy blonde hair made him look like some sort of abused plaything. He also looked like he might have saluted, had he been caught less off guard.
"Sit down, Hodgson, you bloody fool."
Hodgson sank back into the chair slowly as Francis came to the desk at the front of the room, and Jopson took a seat as well.
Despite Francis's rough demeanor and constant cursing, the boys had really taken a shine to him. Thankfully, they didn't take him or his temper too seriously, and that helped Francis not take himself too seriously either.
"Good to see you boys back for another term," he said, setting his messenger bag on the desk and pulling out his laptop. "I trust you're both coming to the TA meeting later on."
"Who are your other TAs, Dr. Crozier?" Jopson asked, cocking his head to the side.
"John Irving in Polarity, and Edward Little in Nuclear. Hodgson, that had better be a physics textbook you're reading. We're having a conversation."
Hodgson looked up like a deer caught in headlights. "Sorry, Dr. Crozier."
"What is it you're reading there, then?"
"...the Bible, sir." He blinked. "I'm converting to Catholicism."
Jopson looked skyward as if hoping that Jesus himself would come and intervene on this suddenly painful conversation. Francis just shook his head. Sensing the rejection, Hodgson dejectedly slid the bible back into his backpack and resolved to never again discuss religion with physicists.
The first class of the term went well; Jopson and Hodgson lounged at the front of the lecture hall, bored out of their skulls as Francis reviewed the class syllabus and then jumped right into an introductory lesson with the remaining time. It seemed that a number of students were already regretting their choice in taking the early physics class, and the two TAs nearly laughed out loud when Francis cut off the grumbling with a reminder of the last day of the semester to drop classes. They always lost at least a few.
Once the students began to file out, Francis packed up smartly and gestured at his cronies to get up. "Meeting, now."
"Yes, Dr. Crozier."
On the way up to Crozier's office, the three of them ran into Fitzjames--quite nearly literally; the three of them trooped up the stairs and around the corner right as he popped into view, and Francis had to pump the brakes fast before he collided with Fitzjames, nearly causing the other two to collide with him.
"Oh! Hello, Francis." Fitzjames smiled a little as Francis grunted and smoothed out his sweater. "What are you and your two shadows doing here?"
"My office is down the hall. I meet with all four of my TAs weekly to discuss upcoming responsibilities."
Something about this tickled Fitzjames; Francis ran his classes just like a lab, right down to the lab meeting. He really was a scientist, it seemed.
"I see. I'm just coming from making acquaintance with mine. They're all lovely boys. I was shocked they were already chosen, but apparently they're all students that did well in James Clark Ross's classes and they thought that it would be a good fit."
Francis frowned. "I see. James picked them himself, then?"
"Seems that way. Lovely to see you again, I'm sure we'll chat soon." As Francis went to move past him, Fitzjames stopped. "Especially since our offices are across the hall from each other."
A vein throbbed in Francis's temple. "Are they?"
"Yes, they are. I'm looking forward to knowing you better, Francis. I'll see you later."
Fitzjames headed for the elevators, and Hodgson and Jopson glanced uneasily at one another as Francis seemed to fume for a moment. Then, as if nothing had happened, he strode down the hall again, leaving the boys to take a harried jog in order to catch up with him.
When he stormed into his office, his other two TAs are already sitting before the desk, and looked up suddenly when the other three burst in. Francis went immediately to the desk and began to get his things out while the four boys were left to make introductions. But mid-chat, Francis looked up and exclaimed "Edward, what did you do to your face?"
Edward Little, who had always been a quiet, somewhat shy but very highly performing student, had apparently gotten a number of facial piercings over the summer. He had pierced both ears, as well as his septum, eyebrow, and bottom lip, and Francis couldn't help the horror with which he stared.
"Oh. Er, I decided to do something different."
Francis stared at him for a long moment, undeterred by the way the other three had fallen into a stilted, awkward silence.
"Now, I hope this goes without saying, but if you boys are struggling with anything, please feel free to come and chat with me. My door is always open..."
Little buried his face in his hands, mortified.
Francis continued, "If you are struggling with the workload, we can figure something out, but I do hope you know that you can speak freely with me without judgement."
Little, now completely maroon, just nodded behind his hands. "Yes, of course. Can we just go on with the meeting?"
"Right, naturally. That goes for all of you, you hear? Not only Edward--"
"Yes, Dr. Crozier," the other three boys answered this time, trying desperately for Little's sake to just get this over with.
As the first meeting of the term, it wasn't terribly high-stakes: most of it went to introductions and laying the initial groundwork for the rest of the semester. But things got off to a choppy start and never really recovered, and Little hadn't completely regained his usually pale complexion, even by the time the meeting ended. Francis had dismissed them, looking somewhat regretful about his outburst, and allowed the four boys to leave as soon as the business was over with.
"I take it the piercings are new," Irving offered, smiling a little when Little nearly went maroon again. "I'm sorry he singled you out. He's never had much of a filter."
"That's alright. Dunno what I expected."
"Did you get them all at the same time?"
"More or less..."
"What direction are you heading?"
"I live in Terror Hall."
"Oh! So do I."
"So do we!" Jopson added in, gesturing between him and Hodgson. "We'll walk with you."
Little shook his head. "I still think it's a terrible name."
"What is? Terror?"
"Yes, of course. It just sounds...ominous, no? Erebus is a much nicer name."
The all-boys University was fairly small, and Terror and Erebus were the two main residence halls for students that chose to reside on campus, which was most of them. So any friend or enemy that any of the boys made on campus had a fifty-fifty shot at living in their building, which had the potential to cause some...problems. But none of those problems currently vexed Francis's TAs, who all walked toward the imposing building together, chattering about the upcoming work load, their respective classes, and of course, Francis's many unusual and charming qualities as a professor.