1927, St. Louis.

It was almost midnight and Mordecai, your husband, was still in his office — in your shared apartment —.

You usually don’t disturb, you just waited for him to come to bed and then sleep but tonight you decided to do something.

Now you were here, on his lap and giving him small kisses on his face while he tried to focus on his work. He wasn’t expecting this behavior from you tonight, he certainly didn’t mind that much..

“Are you done?” He spoke in his usual tone. It was stern but he wasn’t mad at you or anything.