A month after the two of them had agreed over a serious relationship, they had fallen into a couple of habits, traditions if you must, that blossomed between Donna Bloom and the auburn-haired man that had stolen her sunny heart.

The most uncharacteristic for a pair of college-age youths began over necessity. Evenings, especially Thursdays and Fridays, had become dedicated to the habit of reading. The girl had effectively private classes on Sun magic on Saturdays in the morning, so they could not go out, and in fact, was usually busy by the end of the week with the assignments given by Professor Swan, and her boyfriend was unwilling to part with her those nights, even (and perhaps especially) if he was mostly free.

Beckett would, then, grab a book from her well-stocked shelf; a smile spreading across his face as he takes in the variety of genres, noting that literature is the favoured amongst the lot. He would then select the most unexpected he could find, and then plop down next to his girlfriend on the double bed and read in silence.

Just like that, the night would go by and her college assignments would thin out until completion, and then the actual fun would begin.

It usually starts off innocent enough. Beckett would clear his throat before cracking the spine on whichever page he was reading at the moment, his voice sounding out across the room as he begins to recite out loud the uncontextualized words printed on the pages mid-plot.

As the tiredness overtakes her, Donna would lean on him, feeling herself relax as his calm and gentle voice washes over her senses.

However, the temptation would soon become too much. She would need to look at him, she would need to touch him and be closer to him more than she is right then.

It would start with a wandering hand, doodling aimless patterns on whatever piece of skin she can reach as her significant other mindlessly turns the page on subjects he might not be directly interested in. His skin warms with the feeling of her finger lightly drawing on his skin, and he can feel the flush crawl up his neck.

Yet, he does not say a word. He just keeps on reading as if nothing was amiss.

As she becomes more daring, Donna would turn in his arms to watch him read, to watch his mouth form the very words on the page. Her bright eyes would pour over his face, to memorise every inch of whims if she had not done so already.

It would be at this point that she would have to admit to herself the handsomeness of the man who had found himself entirely in love with her. Beckett had always been handsome, his aristocratic features had always been pleasing to look at even when he was just an entitled bastard dedicated to be a geeky nuisance on her life, but ever since she fancied herself in love with him, he looked like the picture of beauty.

Donna counts the slight and discreet sun freckles on the bridge of his nose out of habit. It was a feature of his one could only see when peering closely into his face, and so its appreciation was mostly a privilege of hers.

The sight of his handsome, full face finally overtakes her and so she turns to the side of Beckett's face, zeroing her sights on the round corner of his jaw, just in reach of her lips.

Softly, she presses a sweet kiss to that very spot. Then, her boyfriend would flush a rosy red and lose all train of thought.

Beckett pauses his reading, trying to convey a posture he does not have. He stops all movement entirely, waiting for her to pull away. He closes the book and places it on the bedside table once she does so.

Her face is puzzled as the young man settles further into bed, tugging Donna down with him. He shuffles onto his side, unable to keep his hands away from her as he pulls her close to him, chests lining with chests as legs tangle together.

"Why did you stop?" She asks wickedly, reaching a hand up to cradle his jaw.

Beckett smiles, turning his head to press a kiss to the palm of her hand. "I thought we could have better things to do."

"Better than reading, my little dork?" She questions, pretending to be confused about the pause in in the reading.

Beckett laughs. "Donna, be honest with me, were you even paying attention to the book?"

She purses her lips, pretending to weight whether she remembers the plot of the novel. The truth was she had trouble even naming the thing.

"Truthfully?" Donna asks capriciously, even if her boyfriend nods encouragingly for her response. "I was more focused on you."

Beckett laughs once more. "As it would be the usual for you."

Her laughter joins his; the room brightening with the sounds of enjoyment, not even bothering to consider whether Atlas or Shreya could hear them from the other room.

"Indeed, honey." Donna responds, still smirking in superiority. "There were more important things for me to concentrate."

As their ruckus quietens, her soft and warm hand leaves his jaw, her fingers begin ion to travel across his face gently. They stop at each freckle, tapping gently against his pale skin before they reach his mouth.

Beckett's lips stretch into a smile as her index finger begins to trace the outline of his mouth. Her eyes do not leave his mouth, but she knows he is watching her just as intently as she continues to trace, utterly caught up in the feel of him.

At the last moment, he puckers his lips so to capture her wandering digit, kissing the pad of her finger before drawing Donna in for a fiery kiss.

The book remains forgotten as Beckett and Donna spend their night in with other sorts of activities.