Your head laid on the armrest of the couch, a mathematics textbook in one hand and a pen in the other. The living room was silent, save for the scribbling of pen on paper as you worked on the complex equations in the textbook. Aventurine was out doing work for the IPC as you stayed home and worked on lesson plans for your moronic classes.

You lost track of time, too busy with the textbook in your hands that you failed to hear the front door open and Aventurine step inside. He took his coat off and hooked it on the coat rack, then took his hat and rose-tinted glasses off and set them on the shelf above. With a grumbled sigh he walked into the living room and found you on the couch.

With a huff, he walked over and crawled on top of you. He used his head to bump your textbook out of the way so he could lay his head on your chest, his hands underneath his head as he made himself comfortable. It was obvious to tell that he was in a mood. Whether his mood came from work or interactions with his colleagues was undetermined as of now.