Two Offices

by Merry Amelie (MerryAmelie@aol.com)

Archive: MA only

Category: Alternate Reality, Qui/Obi, Romance, Series

Rating: PG

Summary: Two offices are better than one.

Series: Academic Arcadia -- # 69
A chronological list of the series with the URLs can be found under the header 'Academic Arcadia' at: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/master-apprentice/files/
My MA story page: http://www.masterapprentice.org/cgi-bin/qs.cgi?keyword=Merry+Amelie

Feedback: Is treasured at MerryAmelie@aol.com Disclaimer: Mr. Lucas owns everything Star Wars. I'm not making any money.

To Alex, Ula, and Nerowill, my friends and betas extraordinaire

Ian grunted as he picked up one end of the teak desk and helped Quinn shuffle it into the hall before they had to set it down again. "Whew! Not bad! When Monty helped me, it was much harder. We could barely go five feet without a break."

Quinn smiled, catching a drop of sweat on his cheek with his tongue before it migrated to his chin. "Thanks, lad. We'll have it there in no time." He took a deep breath. "Ready?" At Ian's nod, he picked up his end again and walked backward to the second bedroom.

They placed the desk by the window, then went back to get its drawers and chair. Ian had to sweet-talk the top drawer; it had a tendency to stick but could not withstand his combination of patience and finesse.

Quinn gazed at the spruce trees in the front yard while Ian negotiated with the drawer. When Ian smiled up at him in victory, Quinn knelt beside him to put the last drawer on its runners.

Kneeling by Ian's chair, Quinn felt a powerful sense of deja vu. This was how it all had started, their exhilarating journey from bachelors to grooms. Quinn embraced him, still amazed that he held his husband in his arms. He looked into Ian's eyes, only slightly lower than his own now, a pleasant change, if a bit disorienting. Quinn could see that his lad was remembering the night they'd gotten engaged as well. He was finally close enough to taste a droplet of sweat glistening on Ian's upper lip, the same spot he'd licked off the rum cake icing from his proposal dinner. "More delicious on you by far," Quinn breathed, exactly the words he'd used on that memorable night. He nuzzled the spot tenderly.

"Oh, Quinn. We really did it, didn't we?" Ian said, turning slightly for a salty kiss.

"Yes, lad, we did," Quinn said in quiet satisfaction. He gripped Ian's hand and pressed his lips to his husband's wedding band.

Ian did the same with a happy sigh, then leaned into Quinn's arms for another kiss.

Quinn said, "Just this morning when I woke up, I thought we were still in Landowe until I saw our spruce trees peeking in."

Ian nodded. "I've done that too. The scent of them is what brings me back."

Nodding at the window, Quinn said, "And you've got almost as many out here."

"This was a good move, Quinn." Ian nuzzled into his husband's cheek.

Quinn kissed Ian's nose. "Which -- the house or office?"

"Both, actually. I'll be happy to have my own office again."

Though the men had started out sharing the den, they'd quickly realized that it was a mistake. They were used to the luxury of working alone at home. Ian liked Fairport Convention in the background; Quinn preferred silence. Quinn didn't want food in the office; Ian snacked while working. Ian tended to tap his feet on the carpet, which Quinn found distracting. Since they shared at school, each had viewed his office in Landowe as a sanctum sanctorum. They'd needed to reclaim their personal space at home, so Ian had proposed the change.

Quinn reached over to flip on the portable CD player for Ian. "Nottamun Town" filled the room with the strength of its chords.

Ian was home.

Quinn watched the little train as it puffed around the ledge in his den. Each of his last two birthdays had brought with it the gift of another carriage from Ian. He was now the Proud(foot) owner of a Brandybuck Orchards car, decorated by Ian with winesap apples and a Baranduin pear, and The Burrows' Chandler, with its candlelit manuscript.

The chugging of the train sent Quinn into a reverie. Some of his most fascinating papers had resulted from its momentum. But Ian had always been distracted by its motion and sounds, so different from a sonata. Now Quinn could share its journey throughout the night.

Quinn looked out the den window into the soft darkness. The hedge and two pine trees outlined at the side of the house looked back at him. He loved being so close to the greenery while he worked. Growing up in an apartment, Quinn had greatly missed having his own backyard. He'd adopted the one in Padua as his own, since their seventh floor condos had only the terraces to hang his plants. Here, he was a step away from the outdoors, and the difference was invigorating.

The den was now as quiet as his Landowe office, with only the welcome whoosh of the train to spark his train of thought. Quinn could see the difference in the amount of work he was getting done. He'd already written his lecture notes for the week, and it was only eleven-thirty.

Quinn ambled over to Ian's office to see if he was done for the night. Ian had covered his entire desk with research notes for his next paper. From Ian's heavy-lidded eyes and slumped posture, it looked like the paper had won. "Jumpin' Jack Flash" was on repeat play, chosen, Quinn was sure, because of its high energy. Even the rousing chorus was having little effect on Ian now. An empty cup with the aroma of espresso clinging to it testified to Ian's endurance.

Quinn turned off the music and dropped a kiss on Ian's brow. "Ready for bed, lad?" he crooned.

"Sounds like heaven," Ian whispered.

Quinn took off Ian's glasses, and found the one spot on the desk where wood peeked through to place them. Ian's sleepy smile broadened; he loved working hard and he loved the way Quinn indulged him afterwards. He let Quinn pull him up and just stood there with his arms around Quinn for what seemed to be at least as long as he'd been working. Finally, at Quinn's gentle nudge to his chin, Ian lifted his lips for an espresso kiss. Expressive too, especially given Ian's fatigue.

One of the advantages of having a second bedroom, putatively Ian's to satisfy Masterson decorum, was that they could go from desk to bed in a few steps.

Quinn stripped Ian and himself efficiently, then got them tucked under the sky blue comforter in less time than their embrace had lasted. Ian was all but asleep already, curling into Quinn with one leg on top of his and an arm heavy around his waist.

Quinn smiled into his hair. "G'night, laddie," he said, voice soft as the fine strands kissing his face. He settled down to sleep himself, the constant of Ian by his side easing him through the changes that just kept coming, thanks to his mercurial husband.