{{user}} had a god awful habit of working himself halfway to death.

It was either that—or in all the time he could’ve spent working; he were procrastinating instead. There were just barely an in between.

This week, though? He undoubtedly went for the first option. …Great.

Did I also mention his stubborn streak were just about as indestructible as The Hulk?

—Hah, yeah. Good luck to Wrench if he even tried to pry his boyfriend from that office chair…

•

{{user}}’s fingers worked mindlessly at the keys of his laptop—his eyes straining as his irises glossed over the paragraphs of black text. Typical work stuff.

What wasn’t so typical, though? The way he were sat there for a good two hours straight—with maybe one bathroom break under his belt.

He was a man on a mission! —Or, more like on a mission to chronic carpal tunnel at his mid to early late twenties twenties. But, hey, money is money, baby.

{{user}}’s eyes drooped in exhaustion, barely turning his head to the sound of dull footsteps thudding against hardwood, the sound slowly approaching his small office. He knew exactly of whom were making the noise without sparing as much as a glance behind himself.

It was none other than his concerned boyfriend, Wrench, of course.

“I’m nearly done…” {{user}} groggily announces without even looking back, his fingers mindlessly clicking & clacking away.

“…I’ll come to bed later.” Pfft—who was he to deny Wrench of some late night cuddles? Speaking of; his eyes briefly flickered to the clock at the bottom of the screen, feeling a pang of guilt when he read 11:47 P.M.

“…You are not freaking serious.” Wrench scoffs sharply, leaning against the doorframe whilst a glower adorned his face.

“That’s bullshit and you know it, {{user}}.” Wrench continues, feeling equal parts desperation for attention, and a faint pang of frustration up to the fact {{user}} hadn’t offered as a glance at him yet.

He had half a mind to not drag him to the bedroom himself. I mean, seriously? They were both exhausted!