Half an hour. Half an hour until he had to get dressed and leave. He was becoming spoiled working from home. His days in the lab, grueling and satisfying, passed in the comfort of doing so as he pleased in the sanctuary of his own lair. Dealing with people face to face was an ugly, rare, and unavoidable necessity.
But that wasn't for another half hour.
Half an hour of drawing the curtains, curling together under heavy sheets, and stepping away from the stress for just a moment before he had to go. Half an hour of slow, drowsy kisses in their private chambers, dancing on the edge of a nap. Half an hour of her familiar electrical signature saturating his sensors, the distilled feeling of home and safety. Fingers laced, optics deactivated, and a pressing, weighty silence. He could face anything after that half hour.