"Baby, how many more of those things do you have to do?"
"Just as many as when you asked me thirty seconds ago, Angel."
"Colliiiiiiiins…" Angel's voice floated out from the bedroom, impatient and long-suffering. Collins groaned and bent over the papers again. He was the long-suffering one, grading paper after paper when all he really wanted to do was go and be with Angel. She seemed to think he liked using a red pen to circle typos that were obvious from fifty paces and writing "weak thesis" on every single paper. It was torture.
"Honey, can't this wait till tomorrow?" Collins sighed again.
"Angel, if I don't do it now, the students are going to start complaining and the dean is going to have my ass and probably my job, so no. These can't wait till tomorrow. Believe me, I want them to. But they can't."
"Sorry." Angel sounded pissed now. Great. Nine half-inch papers to go and an annoyed drag queen waiting for him when he was done. The night kept getting better and better.
Another paper slid into the "done" pile. Collins wearily grabbed the next one and looked at the first page. The words blurred and ran together. He rubbed his eyes. They cleared and became sharp. Damn. He started to read, not really taking in anything.
"Baby?…" Angel emerged from the bedroom now, wearing light purple pajamas made of some sleek, shiny material, her outfit for colder nights like this. She went over and sat beside him, her head leaning on his shoulder. Grateful for her presence and her unspoken apology for snapping at him, Collins flipped to the next page.
"Wow…what does that mean? And that? And that and…oh my god, what's that?" Collins sighed once more.
"Angel, don't read over my shoulder, it just makes things go slower."
"Whatever you say, Professor." She poked him gently to show that she was only teasing, and he smiled. It seemed suddenly like he could read faster. The page merited three red marks, and he went on. Collins read through the paper, his eyes skimming each line at lightning speed. Finally, he shuffled it and laid it in the ever-growing "done" pile.
"Hey, that went pretty fast," Angel said, her head still resting on his shoulder. "And I thought you were going as quick as you could!"
"That one was short," Collins sighed. "Now I have another one, and six more after that. Angel, I'm so sorry, but I just don't freaking know when I'm gonna be done."
"That's ok, hon. Hey, I'll stay up with you till you finish the last one. Will that help you work faster?"
"It might," he said, kissing the top of her head. He felt her smile against his skin, and the stack of papers didn't seem so high.
Finally, more than an hour later, Collins dropped the last paper into the "done" pile. Rubbing his eyes, he started to stand, but realized that Angel, who had become silent about fifteen minutes ago, didn't rise with him. Looking down, he saw that the drag queen was asleep, her body resting against his, her chest rising and falling rhythmically. Collins rolled his eyes, but smiled. Stay up with him, huh? He didn't mind, though. Just her being there felt wonderful, even if she was unconscious.
Collins leaned back on the couch, taking Angel with him. Swiveling his hips, he managed to lie down lengthwise, gently pulling Angel up so that she lay beside him, pressed against the back of the couch. Her head rested on his chest now, directly over his heart. Collins just looked at her for a minute, taking the sweet serenity and delicacy of her slumber. She was beautiful, completely and utterly. Kissing the top of her head again, the professor let his head fall back against the armrest of the couch. Twenty seconds later, he was snoring.