Not Exactly Ninja

Manda was twelve pages into her final research paper on the psychology of bullying, and it was beginning to show. Pete, across the room and out of firing range (unless she really decided she hated him and tossed one of her books at his head), watched her over the top of his Classics text and counted the signs, trying to discern whether it was safe to suggest a break. They’d commandeered the study lounge in residence, Manda growling at the first-years to get out and jury-rigging the door so no one else could get in. Pete fell a little more in love with her.

If Amanda’s moods followed the Defcon ratings, this was probably around a three. The soft, tuneless humming that characterized her thinking moods had flattened itself into a thin-lipped funeral dirge, and Pete thought someone could launch an expedition to the frown lines between her eyebrows. Her feet were still, however, instead of jiggling or tapping frenetically, which meant it wasn’t as bad as it could be just yet.

Strategically speaking, taking a break right now for a backrub and possibly something to eat could forestall the worst stages, during which any noise, movement, or conspicuous lack of noise or movement could send her into a fit of temper. Unfortunately, despite years of practice, Pete had never managed to develop a foolproof way of suggesting this without making her defensive.

When the death march acquired a growling undertone and Manda’s fingers started tapping a restless staccato against the side of the keyboard, Pete decided it was time to run interference. Manda, when cranky, didn’t appreciate cuddles if she didn’t ask for them, but at the same time was always too cranky to ask.

Amanda gave him the eye when he got up and crossed the room, pulling her computer further onto her lap. “In high school this was easy,” she complained, in a tone that was usually reserved for people about fifteen years younger. Pete’s eye twitched with the strain of keeping his eyebrows in a neutral position.

“In high school you could get As just for stringing together a grammatically correct sentence.” Pete sat beside her, draping his arm along the back of the sofa but not touching her yet. “C’mon, take a break. You’re almost done.”

She lifted her laptop, but just so she could un- and re-cross her ankles, braced on the coffee table. “I’ll tell you when I want to break, but thanks.”

“You won’t,” Pete said, keeping his tone good-natured. He let his hand drop to her shoulder, playing with her hair and pushing it back off her neck. Manda made a small noise and shuffled closer. “You don’t have to stop for the night. Come cuddle for a while, yeah?”

Manda pursed her lips, but Pete decided enough was enough and pulled her into his lap before she could protest further. He waited; five seconds was all it took to see if she would push him away or not, and at the end of them, she curled up on him, arms around his waist and face burrowed in his shoulder.

“Hey, love, hey.” Pete ran his fingers through her hair and rubbed circles on her back. “Term getting to you, huh?”

“Just a little.” Her breath was warm against his neck. “Do you have any idea how many children I could be feeding with the money I’m paying tuition alone? Why am I doing this? I don’t even like this degree.”

“You’re getting it so you can get hired to help people.” Pete pressed his lips to her temple, thumbed her chin and raised it so he could kiss her properly. “I know it’s bullshit now, but it’ll get better. And you’ll be brilliant.”

She grunted, but the longer Pete traced his hand along her spine, the more he felt the tension leave her muscles. “I’d better be.”

“You will. You are.” Pete kissed her again, then pulled back and tugged the ends of her hair. “Let’s go take a nap, huh?” She raised an eyebrow at him, and he winked. “Just napping, I promise. I’ll be a good boy, just like always.”

Manda snorted, but she stood up and tugged his hands. “Sure. A nap sounds good. And maybe a back massage?”

Pete grinned. Most of the time massages didn’t stay that way for long, and the way Manda cocked an eyebrow at him, she meant it that way. “Excellent.” He slipped an arm around her and nuzzled her neck. “I’ll be quite the gentleman, don’t worry.”

“Mm.” Her fingers hooked in the hem of his jeans; Pete’s grin widened.