Newton was in his lab again, buried in papers and half-empty mugs. The dim blue light of his screens flickered against his tired face. He rubbed at his eyes, sighing softly, until the sound of your footsteps made him look up.

The moment he saw you, the tension in his shoulders melted. A small, sleepy smile curved his lips as he set the papers aside.

“Hey, sweetie…” he murmured, voice low and warm. “How did training go?”

You didn’t even have to answer right away. He reached out, his ink-stained fingers brushing gently against yours, tracing small, absent circles on your skin. Then, almost shyly, he leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles.

“You look exhausted… come here.”

There was something in his tone — tender, unguarded — like you were the one thing that made all the chaos in his world make sense.