Hagen realized it as soon as he browsed through the list of papers his students had submitted online. Baxter's was missing, and the deadline had expired the day before. He double-checked, but he already knew the answer before he confirmed that indeed, Baxter had not submitted his paper on time. Dammit.

He had two problems now. The first, and most pressing, was that Baxter had already been a mediocre student and couldn't afford a fail for this paper. It would put him at a fail for the entire semester, which didn't sit well with Hagen. He would have to call him in, if Baxter didn't contact him himself sooner, and try to figure out a solution.

Why hadn't he prioritized this paper? As papers went, this wasn't even the hardest or the biggest in terms of requested effort. Anyone who had paid attention during his classes should've managed to get a decent grade without spending more than, say, an extra eight hours on it. Surely, that wasn't too much to ask?

But he had another problem, one that wasn't so easy to solve. How had he known Baxter's paper was missing? He could admit the truth to himself, uncomfortable as it made him. He'd been looking for his paper. Ever since that encounter in the bookstore a few days ago, Baxter had been on his mind. On his subconscious mind as well, as he recalled a few vivid dreams where the boy had been on his knees, performing beautifully for Hagen.

It was insane. First of all, Baxter was a student. Apparently, no matter how often Hagen had told his brain that, it still hadn't gotten the message that Baxter was off-limits. Then there was the fact he wasn't one hundred percent sure the guy was gay, though he had to admit Baxter gave off the vibe. But even if he was, what was to say he was single and available? Not that it mattered, considering he was a student.

And even if all of that wasn't an issue, there was still the glaring problem that he had no idea if he and Baxter would be compatible in a relationship. Or even in bed. Maybe Baxter was a strict top. Maybe the guy had zero interest in submitting to someone. Maybe the whole idea of kink scared the living daylights out of him, let alone the type of kink Hagen was interested in. It wouldn't be the first time he'd get called a freak.

He sighed as he leaned back in his desk chair. The latter problem, he couldn't solve quite so easily. He'd have to figure out a way to get over this weird mental obsession with a guy he knew nothing about except his name, where he worked, the fact he loved history, his age, and… Okay, so he knew a bit about Baxter already. Still, that changed nothing. Baxter was off-limits.

That left the problem of the missing paper, which Hagen did intend to confront him about. Rather sooner than later, since he might be able to make it up before Hagen had to enter the grades in the system. Without allowing himself to think about it too much, he sent him a curt email through the college’s network.

Baxter,

You failed to turn in your paper on the comparison of Hitler's failed Russia campaign to Napoleon’s equally disastrous attempt. Please come see me as soon as possible so we can discuss the consequences.

Prof. St. Croix

While he started grading the first papers that had been turned in, he kept checking to see if Baxter had replied yet, strangely disappointed when he hadn't heard a peep by the time he left. He debated calling off the dinner he'd arranged with a friend he hadn't seen in forever, because he was tired and irritated and not the best company. But he hadn't seen Bertrand in a few months and he’d canceled once before when he'd caught the flu, so no, he would have to suck it up.

He drove by his house to change into something a little more dressed up, seeing as how they had agreed to meet at some new bistro. He'd just picked up his dry cleaning the day before, so his wardrobe was filled with perfectly ironed shirts. The light blue one would pair well with his dark gray slacks, he decided. He restyled his hair, dabbed on some cologne, and called it a success.

Bertrand was waiting by the entrance when Hagen walked up, relieved to have found a parking spot close by.

"Hagen, it's so good to see you," Bertrand said, and when he heard the genuine affection in his friend's voice, Hagen was glad he hadn't canceled.

"Same here, my friend. It's been too long." He gave Bertrand a long look, squinting a little to see his face in the weak light of the street lamps. "You look good. Much better than last time."

Bertrand smiled, creating even more wrinkles around his eyes. "I look good for a seventy-year-old, you mean."

Hagen smiled back as he opened the door for him. "Age is just a number, you know that as well as I do."

"You keep telling yourself that, my young friend. One day, your body will beg to differ."

Hagen had made a reservation, so the maitre d’ ushered them to their table. Hagen liked the atmosphere of the bistro as they walked through it. The lighting was soft, and the tables were spread apart enough so the quiet conversations couldn't be overheard. He'd asked for a table with some privacy and was glad to see they had a perfect spot for them. It was all the way in the back, in a corner, and it not only offered a view of the entire restaurant, which Hagen appreciated, but also was separated from the rest. That would give them enough privacy for their conversation.

"You picked a perfect table," Bertrand said after the maitre d’ had seated them and handed them their menus.

"I figured we might have things to discuss we wouldn't want others to overhear," Hagen said.

Bertrand sent him a tired smile. "You always were good at reading others' needs."

They chatted in between ordering drinks and then ordering from the menu. Hagen had looked it up online, and limited menu had made a positive impression on him. He disliked restaurants that tried to be and serve everything rather than focus in on something they were superb at. This bistro was Italian oriented, and it featured some Italian specialties that Hagen was eager to try.

"So how have you been?" Bertrand asked.

"Good, good," Hagen assured him. "I’m starting to plan my classes for next year, and I’m considering doing something a little different with one of them, but I haven’t decided yet. I guess it’s one of the few pitfalls of having a lot of freedom in determining my classes. But, it suits me perfectly."

"Glad to hear it. I always felt your true talents were underrated in California. You're not a mass-production guy. And your personal life? Anyone new in your life?"

They both know what Bertrand was asking, and it was another reason why Hagen had been a little hesitant to meet with him. Once again, he would have to explain that yes, he was still single.

"I'm doing well socially," he said, trying to avoid the last question, but when Bertrand simply raised an eyebrow, he sighed. "No, Mr. Nosy, there's no one special in my life. There hasn't been since L.A., as you damn well know."

Bertrand's face softened. "You took that too hard, Jake leaving you."

Hagen slowly shook his head. "How else was I supposed to take it? I know you love him, but he walked out on me just like that. He blindsided me."

Bertrand reached for his hand, covering it with his wrinkly, but strong, one. "He did you wrong, Hagen. Let's be crystal clear about that. And you know I tore him a new one for it."

It shouldn't make Hagen feel better to be reminded that Bertrand had scolded his grandson, but it did. "Thank you. It's good to hear that. How is he?"

Bertrand gave his hand a last squeeze before he let go. "He's good. Pretty much the same. He's still with David, and as far as I can tell, they're happy. They're a good match, Hagen, much better than you and he ever were. He wasn't right for you, and you weren't what he needed. But I'm sorry he took the coward's way instead of facing you like an adult. That's on him."

Hagen pursed his lips. "You say that as if another part was on me."

"Have you ever figured out what went wrong between you? Other than my grandson being a complete ass when he walked out on you?" Bertrand asked.

Hagen was spared an answer when the server showed up with their food, and for a minute or two, both he and Bertrand were busy getting the first few bites in. His wild mushroom risotto was delicious, the round, creamy flavor bursting in his mouth. It went well with the dry white wine he'd ordered, allowing himself one glass since he had to drive home.

"Forgive me for asking, Hagen, if it makes you uncomfortable. I know this has been extremely hard on you," Bertrand said, his voice filled with understanding.

Theirs was a special but unlikely friendship. They’d met when Hagen had started dating Jake, although they’d both been members of the same club for years. When Jake had come out, his parents had disowned him, and as a result, Bertrand had stepped up and had become his grandson’s de facto parent. It had horrified his daughter, who had missed that her father was gay all those years, and the two of them no longer spoke. And she didn’t even know about Bertrand’s lifestyle.

Bertrand and Hagen had clicked instantly over a love for books and reading, and they had remained friends even after Jake had broken up with Hagen. Bertrand had made the surprising decision to move east after he'd met someone, and now he lived only an hour's drive from Hagen.

"No, I don't know where we went wrong. To be honest, I haven't given it that much thought. I've been too focused on being angry for the way Jake ended things. And too busy blaming myself for not seeing it coming, and for being too boring, as he put it. My best guess is that the age gap got to us after all. Or at least, to him."

Bertrand leaned forward, meeting Hagen's eyes with a kind but direct gaze. "Hagen, be honest, were you really happy with Jake? In the two years you were together, didn't you ever feel like something was missing?"

Hagen let that question roll around in his head, allowing himself to analyze his relationship with Jake with more emotional distance for the first time. Where had they gone wrong? Had it been the age gap, as he suspected? Had they grown apart because Hagen had grown too old to be interested in same things? Had Jake been right when he called Hagen boring, an old man? His new boyfriend, David, was significantly younger than Hagen, so maybe that had been the issue for him.

But that wasn't what Bertrand had asked, was it? No, Bertrand had wanted to know if Hagen had been happy. Had he been? His memories of the two years with Jake were so colored by the way things had ended that it was hard to think back on the good times. There had been good times, right? Times where he'd been over-the-top happy as could be expected in a relationship?

It rolled uncomfortably in his stomach, the realization that it was hard to pinpoint such a time. He'd thought he'd been happy with Jake, but had he really been? What had been missing then, if he hadn't noticed at the time?

"I don't know, Bertrand. I honestly don't know. I thought I was, but now you're making me question myself."

"That's not a bad thing, is it?" Bertrand asked with a hint of a smile.

"No, it's not. But I'll need some more time to figure it out, I guess."

"Fair enough. Let's talk about me."

Hagen laughed. "Nice segue. How are you, Bertrand?"

They talked all through dinner, having no problem filling the time or finding suitable topics.

"Please excuse me," Bertrand said when they'd finished the main course. "I need to use the restroom. One of those old man things I was warning you about earlier."

Hagen was still smiling as he watched Bertrand make his way to the restrooms, following him with his eyes. Then he spotted someone familiar, and his eyes narrowed. Was that…? Why, yes, it was. That was Baxter Lafelle, sitting at a cozy table opposite another man.

Hagen was grateful for the location of his table, which allowed him to observe them without getting noticed by anyone. Who was Baxter with? He leaned back in his seat a little to get a better look at Baxter's dinner companion. He was older than Baxter, mid- to late thirties. Well-dressed with an expensive suit, Hagen recognized.

The guy was gesturing, talking about something while Baxter listened, a friendly but impersonal smile plastered on his lips. He wasn't fully engaged in the conversation, Hagen realized. This was not the same expression he'd had when they had talked in the bookstore. This was polite, but less genuine. That shouldn't make Hagen feel better, but it did.

He watched them until Bertrand came back, and even then, he couldn't resist stealing a peek every now and then. Every time he looked, Baxter's date was talking while he was nodding and listening. He didn't look bored, more like polite. Kind of like a salesperson, someone who was trained to be friendly even when they didn't mean it.

"Is there something interesting going on to your right?" Bertrand asked. "I'm only asking because you keep looking that way, and I can't figure out why."

He had to tell him something, Hagen realized, so he opted for a slightly modified version of the truth. "It's one of my students. He was supposed to turn in a research paper yesterday, and he didn't, so I'm a little surprised to see him sitting here having a romantic dinner when he should be busting his ass trying to finish that paper."

Bertrand followed his gaze. "He's cute," he commented.

Hagen's head shot back at Bertrand with a sharp gesture. "What you mean, he's cute? He's a student. That's not an appropriate thing to say."

Bertrand raised an eyebrow in a quiet gesture. "You're really gonna lecture me about appropriateness when you've been staring at him for the last half hour? Methinks you protest a little too much, my friend."

Hagen signaled the server to bring him the check. "You're seeing things, old man. He's just a student."

"You keep telling yourself that," Bertrand shot back, and the infuriating thing was that he was right, of course.

Hagen paid the check, and as Bertrand slowly rose from his chair, Hagen said, "I'm gonna stop by his table real quick to have a word with him, okay?"

This time, Bertrand's smile wasn't even subtle. "Just a student, right? The lies we tell ourselves," he said with a laugh. "Go, I'll wait for you by the door."

Hagen mentally shook his head, then stalked over to Baxter's table. As soon as Baxter spotted him, his eyes went wide.

"Mr. Lafelle," Hagen said, his tone biting. "Can I speak to you in private for a moment?”

Baxter nodded, his eyes still wide, and Hagen could see confusion mixed in with trepidation. He followed Hagen to the corner of the restaurant, where Hagen met his eyes, forcing himself to stay calm. Where was this strange anger coming from?

“I’m not amused to find you here on a leisurely dinner while you have neglected to turn in your paper on time. I sent you an email earlier today that you haven't responded to either. For your sake, I hope that when you come see me about this tomorrow, you will have one hell of an excuse. Enjoy your dinner."