Chapter 22 Professor Colin Campbell-Abrams #2
“Just fill the damn thing out,” David muttered. “Otherwise, they’ll send you three passive-aggressive emails and a threat to pull your syllabus.”
W-4 and Direct Deposit Authorization
David handed him the form and gave him a sideways glance. “Unless you’d prefer to do this pro bono.”
“Yeah. Right. Fat fucking chance! Gimmie that form!”
FERPA Training Acknowledgment - Confirmation candidate understands student privacy rights.
“Basically: don’t gossip about your students unless you’re drunk in the faculty lounge.”
“I’ve already gone through that training, and it wouldn’t be the first time I was drunk in the faculty lounge.”
“Really! Now, that’s a story I’d like to hear!”
Ethics & Conflict of Interest Disclosure - Declare any work outside UVA.
Colin read the form and scoffed. “Esther’s gonna love this one!”
Syllabus Submission Checklist - Learning outcomes, reading list, grading scale.
“We’ll work on this one later,” David said. “They’ll bounce it for using the wrong font, so it matters!”
“This is the one I dread,” Colin muttered.
“If I were you, I’d dread all of them.”
Parking Pass Application
David handed him the form with a smirk. “I already requested faculty lot B for you. You’re welcome.”
Colin nodded. “Yeah. I’ve patrolled those parking lots. Thank you, indeed.”
IT Credential Request Form - Provides access to UVA’s learning management system.
“If you can’t log in, you can’t teach. Or escape the admin emails.”
Colin read the form, his face grim. “I’ve been on this list before. Even campus cops are forced to read those boring daily notices.”
Faculty ID Badge Request - Need photo and departmental signature.
“Make sure you smile pretty,” David advised. “It’ll still be a shit photo, but at least you’ll be smiling.” He gestured at the pile of forms in Colin’s lap and handed him a pen. “Get busy.”
Three and a half hours later, the two men were still huddled over the computer, struggling to compose Colin’s syllabus. The filled-out forms rested in a neat pile next to David’s briefcase while Nate and Joshua lounged in the kitchen.
Nate perched on the counter next to the stove, watching Joshua ladle a hot chili glaze over several crispy-brown chicken breasts. “David’s just so damned excited about this, Josh,” Nate said, tilting his head toward the living room.
“He’s not the only one. I’ve seen Colin proud before—winning a case, solving something no one else could—but this was different.
Nate, he absolutely… glowed.” He huffed out a breath through his nose.
“He loves that damned university. For all its faults, he has always loved it. Especially the law school. He looks up to those professors like they’re gods. ”
“And now he’ll be one of them,” Nate said in amazement, then shook his head. “My god. Professor Colin Campbell-Abrams. Will he ever stop gloating?”
“I’ll probably have to call him ‘professor’ in bed!”
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 little uncomfortable. 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’s Colin!” 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 wear tweed 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 you still planning to open with a paragraph that makes you sound like a courtroom messiah?”
Joshua grinned. “He is.” He nudged Colin’s shoulder. “And you do not carry a Colt!”
Colin shrugged. “Well, I own a 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 doubt that!”
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 single day when 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 an added attraction, 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 you really going to call him ‘professor’ in bed now? Because I feel like we should establish ground rules.”
“Would you keep your busy little nose out of my bedroom?”
But Nate raised his eyebrows, totally unrepentant. “No promises.”
Colin pulled Joshua back against his body and murmured in his ear. “You’ll be an honor roll student in my classroom!”
Joshua smiled and nuzzled his hair. “Do I get extra credit?”
Colin’s voice dropped an octave. “Yeah. But you’ll have to work for it.”
After David and Nate left, they climbed the stairs to their bedroom, worn out both physically and emotionally. “Josh, how long has it been since the explosion?”
“You don’t remember?”
“I’ve lost track. I swear I have.”
Joshua lifted his head and stared at his husband.
Colin stood beside their new chest of drawers, leaning on it with one arm, his head low. After a moment, Joshua moved to his side.
“My darling, it’s been almost seven months since the explosion.
But a lot has happened in that time. You lost two friends.
We lost our home. You lost yourself. You went to Ireland, you came home again, you returned to the CAO, you became a law professor…
” He paused and drew in a deep breath. “And somewhere in the midst of all that change”—he kissed Colin with infinite tenderness—“you found yourself again.”
Colin stared into his eyes, breathing slow and deep. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and filled with love. “Without you, I’d still be wandering that dark, lonely road.”
Joshua’s smile was soft, but he shook his head, his palm lifting to rest against Colin’s cheek. “Please don’t underestimate your own strength, Colin.”
“I don’t. But I also know where that strength comes from.”
Later, they lay in bed together, quiet, close. Until, finally, Colin shifted. “Want me to read you a bedtime story?”
“I’d love it.”
He reached to one side and drew up his journal.
Joshua smiled as Colin thumbed through the pages, the leather cover soft and worn from travel. “I’m glad you keep it close by.”
“Wasn’t my plan,” Colin said, a touch of humor under his breath.
“But the damned thing just found its way up here.” He opened it near the middle, where the paper had wrinkled from a light rain.
His finger paused on a passage. “Here,” he said, clearing his throat gently.
“This one’s from Galway. The morning I started walking. ”
Joshua tucked closer beneath the blankets, his hand resting lightly on Colin’s chest. “Read it to me.”
And Colin did. Slowly, his voice steady, low, still laced with the echo of faraway wind and the crunch of gravel under boots.
It wasn’t a love letter, but it was. More than a memory.
More than a moment. A description of sea air and the smell of peat smoke, the feel of a stone wall beneath his palm, the search for the ancient, green postbox, the way the sky opened like a promise he wasn’t sure he deserved.
But amid the words filled with pain, guilt, aching loss, and a passionate love of Ireland were words like ‘my beloved,’ and ‘my soul can’t breathe without you.’
And by the time Colin closed the journal, Joshua’s cheeks were wet. “Thank God you came home,” he wept.
Colin turned, pressing his lips to Joshua’s temple. “Just know this,” he said softly. “I never once forgot where home was.”