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Language:
English
Series:
Part 6 of Plan of Care
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Published:
2024-09-15
Words:
361
Chapters:
1/1
Comments:
5
Kudos:
37
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255

Grad School Blues

Summary:

“Lit reviews should be considered as punishments for inmates who commit really gruesome crimes,” Clint said, frowning down at the table, which was spread with printed out articles, books, a couple of notepads, and his laptop. “Like, super grisly murders.”

Notes:

Hi I'm not dead I'm in grad school! Can you tell?

I should be done in less than a year, so be patient, and I promise I will get back to writing!

Work Text:

“Why’d you make me do this DNP, anyway?” Clint whined, looking up through his eyelashes at Phil.

“I didn’t make you do anything,” Phil said, coming up behind Clint to massage his shoulders. “You chose this, remember?”

The circles under Clint’s eyes were almost as bad as they’d been for most of 2020. Phil shivered a little at the memory.

“Babe?”

“It’s nothing,” Phil said, kissing Clint’s temple. “Now tell me what’s got you despairing this time.”

“Lit reviews should be considered as punishments for inmates who commit really gruesome crimes,” Clint said, frowning down at the table, which was spread with printed out articles, books, a couple of notepads, and his laptop. “Like, super grisly murders.”

“Talk me through it,” Phil said, sitting down in the chair next to Clint’s.

He listened as Clint did just that, as always far more clearly and even eloquently than he would ever consider himself. Phil was happy to be a soundboard—far happier than he’d be in a Doctor of Nursing Practice program himself. Before Clint started, he’d been considering an Ed.D, but seeing what Clint was going through for his project made him shudder to think what writing a full-on dissertation would mean. Besides, he’d be ready to retire soon.

“Sounds like you’ve got a handle on this,” he told Clint. “I have faith in you—just write what you told me and you’ll be set.”

“Telling you about it doesn’t involve citing references in fucking APA.” Clint practically spit the abbreviation.

“APA is the devil,” Phil agreed, holding back a smile. “Why don’t I get you a sandwich? We’ve got that good smoked turkey you like.”

Clint sighed. “Sure, a sandwich sounds good. Thanks, babe.”

“You’re welcome,” Phil said. “And, hey—just think of all you’ve accomplished in the last year and a half. You’ll be done before you know it.”

“From your lips,” Clint muttered. Phil stood up to go into the kitchen, but Clint grabbed him around the waist before he could take more than a step. “I love you so fucking much.”

“Love you too,” Phil said, bending down to kiss him. “Now get back to work!”

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