“You alright there, love?” price’s gruff voice rang into your ear. You were perched on his lap, his hand under your shirt lightly tracing hearts on your stomach.

His pen scratched against the paper, groans of dissatisfaction echoing through his office. Every single grumble would be met by a prompt kiss to the cheek from you- just to remind him that you were there.

You were his ray of sunlight, after all. The only source of angelic brilliance in his stygian life.