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"Knock, knock."

It took a moment--long enough for your shoulder to lean and make contact with the door frame--for Joseph's eyes to stray from the document in front of him to you. The sudden jolt indicated he may have very well been in the beginnings of dozing, his lids drooping more narrowly than usual, his dark irises scrutinizing with brief nonrecognition, deducing the lead up to your entrance. You smiled sympathetically, lifting a hand and gesturing with a tip of your chin to the paper coffee cup,

"Sebastian let me in... Thought you might like a pick-me-up."

Joseph blinked once, perhaps to combat a sleepy-haze, but a soft smile was not far behind,

"Yes, of course. Thank you."

Late nights like these were not uncommon. Joseph was reknowned for his hard work and dedication, both to his career and his partner. The controlled chaos on his desk came as no surpise, every crossed out sentence and scribbled note evidence of a long day, and an even longer night; work shared between Sebastian and himself. The stress was there, written on his composure as blatantly as his penmenship. Suddenly, you were thankful your intuition had sent you there.

The only light source was the amber desk lamp, providing color only in the meager, radial space around Joseph. The rest of the office lingered in an all-consuming, gray-scale shadow, silver light brilliant cast through two bestriding windows. A gentle rainfall clung to the glass, it's darkened droplets mimicking streams onto the hardwood floor. It felt like entering another world entirely when you stepped into the golden lamp-light, quietly set the cup down, and watched your husband rub his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. With a brief pinch of his nose Joseph set the spectacles back in their rightful place.

"Anything interesting?" You asked, raking your fingers through his slicked hair, over his ear.

Joseph sighed again, leaning into your hand, "Boring details, mostly."

A hum left your lips, your eyes straying back to the mess, the urge in your finger tips to pilfer through them. You were no detective, but you longed to comprehend the mindset and the skill it would take to aid him. Joseph might brag about your patience, but you felt severely lacking. A twinge of jealousy stirred your nerves, and resentment aimed itself at the cluttering papers. Every bit of you wanted to ask how late this would make him, or how much longer it would continue; you wanted him with you, at home, at a reasonable hour, not waking up to his arrival in the wee hours of the morning.

It was that patience and love he might brag about that forces you to bite your tongue.

Instead, you admire the man he is and realize it was Joseph's dedication that you loved most. It showed not only in his work, but in the most menial of tasks; in his honest pursuit of you, and his role as your husband. The least you could do was give him grace. He hated his absence more than you,

"I'm sorry I've been so busy. Sebastian's still not completely--"

"Himself," you turned to face him, with a smile saying you understood, "You're a good man, Joseph."

"But not a very good husband lately... Am I right?"

The way his mouth quirked implied there may have been a shred of belief in his statement, a festering sore. In turn, guilt, along with the fear your surpressed displeasure was never well concealed, swelled within your gut. Your expression melted, drawn closer to him by the need to remedy his doubts by means of physical contact. Your knees straddle him in his leather chair, your hands around his face, and an affection kiss met his lips.

"You're even better as a husband," you whispered between lingering, deep kisses. "I would wait for you forever if it meant kissing you like this."

"Mm, that's reassuring. A bit cheesy--even for you--but reassuring."

A breathy laugh vibrated against a forming grin, Joseph's thumbs in rotation over your hips. You attempt to quietly apologize, but are lost in the rich color of his eyes and how they flicker aimlessly over your features. The hand he raised to card through your hair nearly startled you before he pulled you in for another long, slow kiss. The laughter was lost and replaced with a wanton hum, and within seconds your grip on him tightened, needing more. Joseph's hand clamped around the base of your nape, the other sliding up the length of your spine to press between your shoulders. Desperation for each other's touch turned feather-like strokes into clawing, leaving no room for air between you. Impassioned lips sucked, and tongues caressed; groping, gyrating.

In a sudden motion, Joseph lurched and the desk replaced the support his arm had been giving. Pinned between polished wood and his hips, the hands that so lovingly braced his cheeks tugged at his vest. His eager weight coerced you farther and farther backward, your heart racing with anticipation, wondering just how far this would go.

Not very... At least not here.

"Take it home, you two."

Encased by Joseph's arms, back flat against the surface of the desk, your eyes snapped open. Joseph's glasses sat crookedly on his nose, a dissipating fog revealing the wide nature of his eyes. Whether Sebastian had seen your intimate predicament or simply heard the commotion in his adjacent office remained a mystery. A rather comical picture, you thought recalling the deadpan nature of the request, imagining the scruffy man with a newspaper and his feet possibly propped up on his desk.

Either way, Joseph didn't ask for clarification; only snatched the keys from the drawer and yanked you out the door.