Chapter Text
Gale’s roommate was still missing, and new faculty orientation started in thirty minutes. He wondered if something had happened to the guy, like he got a better offer from another institution or he decided to fuck off out of academia or something. It might be nice to have the little college house to himself, so he wouldn’t worry about it too much. He searches around the living room for his backpack, finding it on the old sofa the college had provided as part of the furnished housing benefit for new tenure-track professors. He slipped the backpack on and smiled at the photo of Marge and him that he’d placed on the end table next to the sofa, their faces smushed together, smiles wide and eyes sparkling. He headed out the door, locking it behind him as he started the ten-minute walk to the union building where new faculty orientation was being held.
It was a warm summer day, the Midwest in August, so he had a nice glisten of sweat by the time he entered the union and found their room. It was a nice spread - bagels, fresh fruit, a yogurt parfait bar, coffee from the local coffee shop. He chose some food and sat down quietly by himself, pulling out his laptop and taking a sip of his coffee. He scanned the other new faculty in the room, milling around and talking to each other, an obvious mix of disciplines and faculty status - some adjuncts and some later-in-life visiting professors. He tucked into his bagel and avoided everyone’s eye.
Dr. Harding, the dean of the faculty, eventually moved to the head of the room and started pulling up her welcome slides and everyone started to settle into their seats. The dean had just gone into slideshow mode and was smiling in welcome at them when the door to the room banged open. Gale turned to look as the bro-est bro he had ever seen entered the room, protein shake in hand, sunglasses still on. He was wearing… basketball shorts and a tee shirt, which was inside-out. To their first meeting with their boss. Bro smiled winningly at the dean as he stood in the back, tipping his sunglasses on top of his head.
“Mr. Egan,” Dean welcomed him. “Find a seat. We’re getting started.”
“Bucky, please, ma’am,” Bucky replied as he offered a lazy salute and made a bee-line for Gale, who realized that the only empty seat that wasn’t at the front of the room was right next to him. He watched as Bucky loped over and slumped in his seat, giving Gale a quick, “S’up?” nod. His eyes were bloodshot; not just bloodshot, but pure red, like Gale had been during his quals when he stayed up for three days straight trying to get all of his notes organized. The subtle whiff of whiskey, however, led him to believe that Bucky’s state was due to a less scholarly pursuit. Bucky lowered his shades again and rested his chin on his crossed arms on the table as the dean started her welcome. Gale shifted away from him slightly, hoping that his slacker attitude wouldn’t be too contagious. He would have sworn that he saw a smile flit across Bucky’s lips as he did.
The dean was almost ten slides in when Gale had a sudden realization. Although the name “Bucky” didn’t ring any bells, the dean had called him Mr. Egan, which Gale was starting to realize was awfully similar to John Egan, Assistant Professor of Business, and Gale’s missing roommate.
***
By lunch, everyone was calling Gale by his new nickname, even though he tried to correct them at first, to explain that Gale was his great-grandfather’s name, that it was a totally normal name for men to have pre-1970. Seriously, he had a graph to prove it. When he introduced himself during the icebreaker, John/Bucky had scoffed, said that he couldn’t have students confusing him with Gail, the administrative assistant for the dean’s office, and somehow, over the course of the rest of the morning, convinced every single new faculty member, plus Drs. Harding and Bowman (head of the center for teaching and learning) that Gale’s preferred name was now Buck.
Gale took it out on the paper as he angrily unwrapped his chicken caesar wrap for lunch.
“So, I think we’re roommates,” a voice behind him said. Gale sighed, rolling his eyes and praying to whatever might listen to give him strength to survive this stupid man.
“Yep, I think so,” he answered, trying one of the pickle-flavored chips from his box. They were disgusting. He pushed the bag as far away from him as he could.
John/Bucky sat down next to him, again. Gale wondered about the integrity of the picnic table. He had noticed throughout the morning that John/Bucky had a pretty solid frame, wide shoulders and longish legs that he tended to bounce when he sat for too long. Plus, he’d sat right next to Gale when there was no one else at the table. Their combined weight made the table jilt a bit. Bucky opened his boxed lunch - the luck bastard had gotten barbeque-flavored chips. Gale swallowed down his disappointment with the dry chicken in the wrap.
Without prompting, John/Bucky removed his chips and dropped them in Gale’s box, picking up his pickle chips instead.
“Not a fan of pickle chips?” he asked, opening the bag and pulling three out to stuff in his mouth at once.
“Not really,” Gale replied. He gently touched the barbeque chips John/Bucky had given him and slid his eyes over to Bucky with a questioning tilt to his eyebrow. John/Bucky just smiled at him, showing his teeth, bits of chewed-up chip visible. Gale rolled his eyes again and ducked his head back down, opening his chips reverently. That was nicer than he had expected from business frat-bro John/Bucky.
“So how is the place?” John/Bucky asked, talking with his mouth full.
“Fine,” Gale answered. “It’s faculty housing, you know. Small. Just one bathroom.”
“Nah, should be fine,” John/Bucky said. “One year in college, I lived in a house with seven guys, one bathroom. Plus one of those weird toilets in the middle of the basement, I guess, but it only ever got used when someone was super drunk. It’s pretty weird to take a dump in the middle of a basement with no walls. And looking at you, I’m guessing that you’re neater than any of those idiots ever were.”
Gale huffed a little laugh, glad that he at least appeared to be a functioning adult capable of cleaning up after himself. He wasn’t totally sure about John/Bucky. He still dressed like he lived in a gross house with five dudes. It was confusing - John/Bucky clearly cared little about first impressions and seemed like a bit of an idiot. But when he introduced himself during the icebreaker, it turned out that he had an MBA from Kellogg and liked to fly planes in his spare time. Gale felt a little outclassed in comparison, with his PhD from Iowa State and normal hobbies of boardgaming and DnD with Marge and the gang.
“I’ll try to stay out of your hair as much as possible, John” Gale said as John/Bucky took a bite from his wrap that seemed to encompass half of the wrap in one go. “Do you have stuff? Need help moving in after the session this afternoon?”
“It’s Bucky, seriously,” Bucky said, still chewing. “And don’t worry about me. I travel light.” Gale watched as Bucky surreptitiously checked over Gale’s lunch, noticing that Gale had finished his cookie. Bucky fished his own cookie out and placed it in Gale’s box. When Gale tried to give him a little smile in thanks, Bucky tried to pretend like nothing had happened.