Narii~

Ryland leans back in his chair, rubbing at his face with a quiet sigh of frustration. He has to push his glasses up off the bridge of his nose as a groan slips past his lips before the sigh barely ends. It's just not computing in his head. His hands drop from his face just a minute later and he fixes his glasses with one hand while the other comes up to his neck and he tugs the red tie loose.

He rolls his neck side to side and then cracks his fingers before he dives back into his computer. Ryland's fingers flit across his keyboard at the speed of light. Every few seconds, he pauses with his right hand, darting up to his ear to grab the pencil tucked there for calculations. He scribbles incessantly on a scrap piece of paper and then shoves the writing utensil back into his curls for safe keeping.

The cycle repeats. And repeats. And repeats.

Until you slip into his classroom when the sun has sunk below the horizon. A soft, loving, yet concerned smile spreads on your lips when you see the obvious signs of stress on your lover. Yeah, when he didn't pick up his phone after the third text and a call, you figured he was still here.

"Sweetheart?" you ask softly, so as to not scare him. Ryland's gaze snaps over to your figure, slightly startled, and you can see the surprise in his eyes before he softens and the surprise melts into relief.

"Hi, my love," he replies equally as quietly, plucking the pencil out of his hair, glancing down at one of his many papers to scratch down a few more notes. You take the opportunity to step into his classroom the whole way now and you make your way over to his desk with curious eyes.

"What are you working on this late?" you prompt, "You didn't answer my texts or call so I figured you must be busy." You come to a pause next to his chair, eyes glancing over the math problems and drawings he's made in his scratchy handwriting.

Ryland sighs and sits back in his chair to give you his attention. He's not that much of a workaholic he can't give his girlfriend his undivided attention. "A new paper came out," he says in a low murmur, his eyes darting up to your face, "One that's similar to mine. Water-Based Assumptions. You know it."

You hum as you take a step closer to him and nod once, reaching a hand out to gently brush the curls off of his forehead. Ryland's eyes flutter shut at your touch and he leans into your hand like a dog. "I know the one," you reply lightly, "Just because you were the first doesn't mean you were wrong, Ry."

"I know, I know," he grumbles with a slight pout, and you can see his mind is both whirling and slowing down. He's about at his limit. "Why don't you take a break, Ry?" you suggest, dropping your hand to cup his cheek. "Then you can get back to this tomorrow. You still need dinner and it's starting to get late. It is a school night,"

Ryland's eyes snap open as he frowns and parts his lips to complain, but you tenderly lean down and gently capture his mouth in a sweet kiss, effectively shutting him up. He releases a soft, surprised noise but immediately melts into you like it's second nature. Your mouth is addictive to him in the best way. Warm, sweet, and so completely you. You have the ability to complete stop his brain in it's tracks and derail him.

And oh how he loves you for it.

As much as he wants to get back to his work, he knows you're right. And now he's got a really pretty girl kissing him.

Ryland lifts one of his hands up to cradle the back of your head, pulling you closer as the other one sets his pencil down and finds the small of your back to tug you into his lap. Now it's your turn to release a squeak of surprise. Not that his movements are unwelcomed. They are far from that.

Your hands slip from cradling his face to find their homes in his soft golden curls. Your lithe fingers thread through the locks gently, silently coaxing and pleading with Ryland to relax and to come home with you.

The longer you kiss him, the less he wants to stay in his classroom.

Ryland's hands settle onto your waist and he tilts his head ever so slightly to deepen the kiss. This makes you smile into his bearded mouth. Got him.

Ryland knows you've won. He doesn't really care.

Not when you can kiss him absolutely senseless like this.

Eventually, the kiss comes to a tender ending with him pressing gentle kisses along your jawline, to each cheek, your forehead, nose, and then a final, chaste kiss to your lips. He rests his forehead against yours and takes a long, slow, deep breath before slowly releasing it.

You just blink softly at him as he works to release his tension. Then, once he's ready, he gives you a soft smile and chuckles a little. You join in on the quiet laughter because you both know you've won now.

"Alright," he murmurs, nuzzling your nose gently with a sigh of defeat. "Let's go home." You hum and smile back, rubbing your nose against his right back. "On one condition," you tease gently, ghosting your lips over his. Ryland's hum is his only response as his eyes flutter closed and his mouth just barely dances over yours.

"We get to have spaghetti for dinner."

"What are we waiting for?"