45: Epilogue

"Hitch, I...I'm almost insulted." You switch between the two typed essays positioned on your desk, forced to reconsider how highly your students think of you. "Pulling this on Mr. Zachary, or even Dr. Shadis, I get. But me? You don't think I learned a trick or two about plagiarism in my college years?"

The junior-year delinquent you're addressing has her arms crossed on your desk and her head dropped atop them, wholly dismissive of your reprimand and about to fall asleep during it. "It's not plagiarism. I borrowed a friend's—a professional colleague's work. With her permission, too. It's totally legit."

"That's not remotely how that works," you sigh. "Plus, I don't think Annie agreed to have you take her whole essay, word for word."

"It's not word for word." Like an attorney making a revelation in the courtroom, she sits up and points a proud finger at a modified phrase in her essay. "See? This is my original work."

You see how she's changed Annie's phrase of "deeply nuanced" to "very nuanced".

It's hard not to be insulted.

"Hitch, I really don't want to write you up for violation of academic integrity. Can you work with me to find another solution to this?"

"Mmhmm. How about this trade: I'll write a letter of apology if I get a nice, pretty A plus on this assignment. Okay?"

Unimpressed, you perch your cheek on a closed fist. "Not okay. That's bribery and intentional misgrading. Besides, you'd make Marlo write that letter anyway."

"He'd choose to do it."

"Right. Of course." Giving up, you stack the papers together and slouch back in your chair. "I'll let you resubmit the assignment for partial credit. Give me unique sources—none that Annie used—and I'll grade accurately. I'll give you two weeks."

"I have to write the whole thing for only half a grade?" She's pouting, trying to beg for more mercy, but you give her no such privilege.

"Partial, not half."

"Levi's rubbing off on you. In every sense of the phrase."

"First off, gross. Secondly, Professor Levi wouldn't even let you rewrite it. He'd give you a zero and move on."

The phone ringing pulls you both out of your locked antlers. Trusting it as a sign, you hand both papers back to the student and nod to the door. "I'm sure you'll visit me again, Hitch. Enjoy your afternoon and maybe consider spending some time doing some academic research."

"Sure thing!" Free from her prison, she springs up and strides out of the room without a single chip on her shoulder.

With a dismissive eye roll, you pluck up the corded phone and hold the receiver to your ear, greeting the caller with your professional name.

"Good afternoon! It's Pieck Finger—from the conference last year. I wanted to congratulate you on your new position."

"Oh, thank you, Pieck! It's good to hear from you."

"You as well." Her tone is awfully pleasant and it's a bit embarrassing for you to admit that. You politely listen to her speak. "I wanted to ask you about the convention, if you don't mind."

"Not at all, though Hange is arranging it this year. They'll probably know more than I do."

"Oh, I know—and I'm grateful to Paradis for hosting it—but I wanted to talk to you as a potential speaker."

"Hm, again?" You intend to sound pleasantly surprised, but there's a sliver of pride in your voice.

She asks you about plans for the convention and your role in it and you make delighted conversation while finishing small tasks on your computer. Your office space is quaint, indeed just a bit bigger than the desk you fit in it but still a lovely sanctuary from which you live out your dream job. Levi scoffed a few times during the decoration process, but he eventually came around to appreciating how cozy and inviting the space felt once you were done.

The university has given you the most diluted job title of a literature professor without any consideration for positions in other administrative departments, an action that makes sense considering your empty resume but simultaneously is ludicrous considering Levi's soaring position despite a history almost identical to yours. You pay it no mind; a job at Paradis is more than enough. Ascending the ladder will come with time and experience.

In the meantime, the salary you're at now is quite the reward already. The budget your pay rate allows covers a two-bedroom, living expenses, and groceries with plenty to spare. It's difficult to stifle the cocky haughtiness of a newly affluent elitist.

And whenever possible, you spend every cent possible on Levi. He makes more than you, but since his paycheck is a slave to the bank, he is as good as penniless without you. You've vowed to make sure he never feels that way.

When you're in the middle of wondering if Zeke ought to be the first speaker, your office door swings open without any notice. Only one person enters so brashly.

"He might have to fight Erwin for it," you gossip with Pieck. "I know Erwin's already been requested a lot after his presentation last year."

Levi's annoyed to see you occupied. He swings the door shut and takes the single step to the front of your desk, then plants his palms on the desktop.

You honor him with a glance and a nod while Pieck talks about Zeke's record of astonishing research. "Well, it makes no difference to me, Pieck," you continue. "If anything, I'd let Zeke go first. He's younger in his career than Erwin; he needs more exposure."

"Oh, thank heavens you're babbling about my two favorite people," Levi gripes, stepping around the perimeter of your desk into your personal space. "It'd be ridiculous for you to be doing anything more productive."

That earns him a furrowed brow and a finger over your lips. "Though I'd say the same for our darling Professor Levi," you tell Pieck. "He's the youngest and the most promising. People have always requested to hear him speak, and he really deserves to do so."

"Damn viper," Levi rasps, his fist clenched.

With an innocent shrug, you swivel in your chair to put him out of your sight. Pieck agrees with you, wondering if you could convince the stubborn cat to present, and you promise to try by saying, "I'll see if I can convince him."

Your chair is pivoted right back to where it was, his mighty hand on your backrest. The other snatches the phone out of your grasp and puts it to Levi's ear.

"Levi—"

"She won't succeed," Levi firmly assures, "no matter what sneaky wiles she tries. You should know me better than that, Pieck."

Sighing, you cross your arms and wait for Levi to finish the conversation he stole from you.

"Of course. Now, if I may, I would like to take my employee to lunch before my next class starts. I'm sure you can keep chatting once she gets back." He pauses, listening to whatever undismayed response she's giving. "Yeah, thanks. I do appreciate it."

Shoving the phone onto its base, he stares down the little professor he's trapped in her own seat. His shadow swallows you, pinning you down while his eyes knife into your soul. "Did you have enough time to gush about your blond boyfriends?"

His accusations don't hurt anymore. You and him both know there's no chance of loyalty to anyone but each other. "Oh, don't be so sad," you tease back. "You got to spend some time with the lovely Pieck Finger. Have you taken her out for tea and pastries yet?"

"I'm afraid she can't catch my interest quite the way you do." He cups your chin, demanding all your attention on him. "So I'll have to take you out in the meantime."

"What a shame," you hum.

"I'd hope not," he says before placing an innocent peck on your cheek. "Are you available for the next hour? We still haven't tried the sushi bar they've renovated."

"I'd love to go, as long as I'm paying."

"No. You paid for dinner last night."

"You cooked dinner last night. I just bought the ingredients."

"Exactly. You paid."

"Not the labor costs."

He rolls his eyes.

"You can't deny that," you taunt. "So I'm paying for sushi."

"You're impossible." Giving up, he steps back and allows you to escape. "I do still make money; I can pay for things."

You get up and pass by him, coming to the office door and putting your hand on the knob. "Maybe next time," is your repeated and hollow promise.

He takes the collar of your shirt before you can move. "Hold on," he begins, and you know what's coming next. "One before we leave."

"Sap," you whisper before leaning in for a sublime, sincere kiss.

He holds you close, stealing a few more in the privacy of your office while he still can. Once he's satisfied he frees you, slowly relaxing his hold on your form.

"Of course I am," he breathes, his voice reverting to that awestruck pleasure and his expression absent of its stoic mask. He rubs a thumb along your cheekbone and smiles gently, providing you with a sight you know only belongs to you. "I'm helpless when it comes to you, remember?"

"Mmhmm." Mirroring his joy, you slump against the door and wish for the world to stop for a while. It's difficult to live day-to-day without Levi constantly on your mind. "I feel quite the same way."

"Well, let's see if we can get our act together." He eyes the doorknob, preparing to face the public eye. "Look professional, intern."

"Intern?" you check, your head cocked.

"Oh, sorry." His arms take your body away from the door before he opens it himself. "Look professional, sweetheart."

You can't do anything but tsk in embarrassment as he detaches from you, and you follow your partner with a blush on your cheeks and a stupid grin on your lips.