They both doubled over, laughing.
In the living room, David pointed to the first lines of Colin’s syllabus:Welcome to Criminal Procedure: The Law in Motion. “This class will challenge your assumptions, sharpen your arguments, and—if I do my job right—make you a littleuncomfortable. Bring your brain, your backbone, and your caffeine.”
— Professor Colin Campbell-Abrams
“Jesus, Colin,” David spluttered, “This isn’t a TED Talk! You need a course description, not a manifesto!”
Colin glared but backspaced anyway, each keystroke a silent protest. “How about this,” he muttered, typing.
“If you think criminal law is black and white, this class will prove you wrong. We’ll explore the gray—where lives are changed, justice is negotiated, and the law sometimes fails us.”
David read, then shot him a sideways glance. “That’s not a course intro. That’s a closing argument with a side of moral outrage.”
Joshua leaned over the couch. “Nope. That’sColin!” He bent close, his voice low and warm against his husband’s ear. “Keep it, honey.”
Colin snickered and turned his head to kiss Joshua’s cheek.
Eventually, after much argument, discussion, backspacing, and at least a dozen forced edits, the syllabus in its final form met with everyone’s approval. David still called it “informal at best” but conceded that Curriculum Approval would sign off.
Colin, still half-convinced he was living a waking dream, looked at the finished document and murmured:I can teach this. For Joshua, that was all that mattered. Nate, for his part, just wanted to eat.
After dinner, the four friends sat on the porch sipping their stouts. The air was soft and still, the kind of night that settled around you like a blanket. Fireflies blinked along the edge of the yard, and someone—probably Joshua—had lit a citronella candle that smelled faintly of lemon.
David took a long pull from his glass and leaned back with a sigh. “So, Professor Campbell-Abrams. You gonna weartweed now? Maybe carry a leather satchel and spout Kant unprompted?”
Colin didn’t even look over. “I wear leather, carry a Colt, and quote case precedents. That good enough for you?”
“Depends. Are youstillplanning to open with a paragraph that makes you sound like a courtroom messiah?”
Joshua grinned. “Heis.” He nudged Colin’s shoulder. “And you donotcarry a Colt!”
Colin shrugged. “Well, Iowna Colt.”
Nate raised his glass in a mock toast. “To the only professor in UVA history who had to list ‘former undercover cop’ on his HR paperwork.”
David scoffed out a laugh. “I doubtthat!”
Colin shook his head but smiled. “You know, for a second today, when I signed that last form, I caught myself thinking, ‘What the hell am I doing?’ I’m not a teacher.”
David glanced sideways. “Bullshit.”
“Agreed,” Joshua said, nudging Colin’s knee with his own. “You taught UVA students every singledaywhen you were a campus cop. You teach every time you open your mouth in court. You mentor half your office, whether you realize it or not. This is just a different podium.”
Colin gave a soft snort. “With worse coffee and longer emails.”
David raised his glass. “
“But better parking.” He hesitated, then his tone sobered: “And as anaddedattraction, fewer people trying to kill you.”
Joshua shifted and pressed closer to Colin. “Thank god.”
For a moment, nobody spoke. The silence was comfortable, companionable.
Then Nate nudged Joshua’s shoulder. “Are youreallygoing to call him ‘professor’ in bed now? Because I feel like we should establish ground rules.”
“Would you keep your busy little noseoutof my bedroom?”
But Nate raised his eyebrows, totally unrepentant. “No promises.”
