With a frustrated huff, Jim looked up from the maps he'd been pouring over and glanced at his wife. Claire worked silently in the corner of the library she'd long since commandeered as her own, her table top cluttered with herbs, alchemic tools and vials of multi-colored fluid.
He watched as she stopped, deftly brushed her hair behind her ears and set her hands on her hips in one fluid, unbroken movement. She paused for only a moment, either considering something or taking a quick breather, before launching back into her work.
As Claire swiped a crimson-filled vial, Jim stepped away from his maps and strode casually toward her.
She looked just as ready for a break as he felt.
It was a rare moment of impulsivity; a brief moment of hormonal weakness that quickly overtook them both.
When they'd been younger, they'd been more risky. But with the maturity that came with adulthood and the responsibility required of parenthood, such reckless decisions were far rarer and especially few in between.
But as Jim lifted Claire onto the table and she locked her legs around his waist, neither seemed to particularly care.
Claire fumbled with the buckle of his belt, biting back a moan as his teeth met the sensitive skin of her neck.
His hips snapped forward as she palmed him and a pleased growl rumbled deep in his chest. Claire shivered at the sound, toes curling as heat pooled between her legs.
She leaned back to attempt to finesse her pants as far down her thighs as would be necessary, with Jim eagerly reaching for her waistband to help, and her elbow bumped against one of her many surrounding jars.
The jar toppled and Jim snatched it up, purely out of reflex, before it rolled off the table.
Claire's gaze settled on it's alarmingly radioactive-green contents and she quickly sobered, her eyes widened.
"Whoa, ok," She placed her hands against Jim's chest, applying enough pressure for him to realise she needed to time-out and he leaned back. "That was almost really, really bad."
Jim looked down at the jar in his hand and brought it up to his eye for inspection. Bubbles flitted frantically throughout the green liquid within. Ignoring its overwhelming magical scent, he could have easily mistaken it for some sort of neon-colored soft drink.
Not something he'd probably drink, personally, but he could see Toby being brave enough to try.
"Why? What is this?" He asked warily.
His wife very carefully confiscated the jar from him and placed it firmly back down on the table.
"A bomb, basically."
"Oh."
"Yeah." Claire brushed her hair from her face and exhaled, reluctantly admitting: "This was probably a bad idea."
Jim hummed in agreement and paused, considering something. He glanced over his shoulder.
"Map table?"
"Map table." Claire agreed and grabbed his shoulders for support.
She laughed as he, more than a little eagerly, lifted her from the alchemy table and moved with purpose to the center of the library.
Claire suddenly stiffened and glanced toward the gaping entrance. "Wait, hold on."
Jim's ears pricked as he heard what she had; approaching voices.
He placed her down and they frantically set about conducting themselves. In a matter of moments any evidence of what they had been about to do was gone and they positioned themselves before the map table, facing the entrance.
Jim shoved his hands into his pockets and feigned nonchalance as he leaned against it.
"You're back," Jim greeted as Blinky and Aaarrrgghh entered, the tension in his tone almost undetectable.
Conversation quickly shifted to matters of business; of relations with neighboring tribes and territory disputes.
A silent agreement was made between husband and wife when they would meet each other's eye, lingering just long enough before looking away as if to say: later.
"Mijo, nothing's here," Claire reiterated for what had to be the twentieth time. She sat down beside her son on his bed, carding her fingers fondly through his dark mop of hair.
"But I saw it!" Junior insisted, brows furrowed. "I swear!"
"It was just a bad dream, baby. You're perfectly safe in here." She assured, yet again.
Jim rose up from the floor, where his son had frantically asked him to check under his bed for the third time. "Ok, kiddo- there's nothing under your bed, your closet-," he counted locations off on his fingers, "-or hiding in your toy box."
"See? Your father's checked everything. No one is in your room." Claire leaned down to kiss the crown of his little head.
Junior rumbled uneasily, ears pinned back. He pressed closer into her side.
Clearly, he was not convinced-
The boy grabbed Claire's sleeve and looked up at his mother with large, wet eyes. "Stay, mama? Please?"
-And, clearly, what husband and wife had planned for their evening was on it's way right out the window.
Claire shot Jim a small, apologetic smile and a silent conversation was had between the pair of them.
"I can stay with him for a while," she said after a moment. Junior perked up.
Jim exhaled, defeated but understanding.
"Ok." He ruffled Junior's hair and bent down to kiss his wife good night. "Good night, you two."
"Good night, cariño." Claire responded, channeling as much apology into her tone as their son settled in beside her.
Jim shrugged, offering her a lopsided smile that promised he wasn't upset, before heading off to their bedroom.