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He looked at the dead handset in his fist. "Oookay."He debated silently with himself on the question of whether or not it was worth the time, effort or possible ramifications to call her back to tell Kristen to just deliver the files. Shaking his head, Martin pushed away from his desk and stood. Less fighting would be more better.Strolling down the hall, he noticed that just about everybody had already cleared out for lunch; most of the office doors were closed. Had they all gone out together and not told him? Again? Even Kristen wasn't at her desk."Great." Taking care not to touch anything, Martin craned over her workspace, trying not to read any filenames or documents but scanning for the Pauling files he needed."Marty, is that you?" Kristen's voice came from behind Petersen's closed door."Yes?" He said, wondering what was going on in there. He could hear the rustling of clothes and tried not to think about what that probably meant."I'm just changing real quick before I head to. “Meh, it was okay. I kept getting woken up.” Marcus wrapped his arms around her from behind and nuzzled her neck as he stirred the eggs, making sure everything was cooked through. His lips were nipping a tender spot he had been obsessed with in bed, a spot that she would kill him over if it had a mark later that day. Or maybe dig her nails deeper into his skin the next time. Pressing her back into his chest to enjoy the warmth of his body around hers, all of her typical responses were lulled by their open display. “Funny, I did too.” “What are you making?” “I was making breakfast in bed, but seeing as you’re up that defeats the purpose.” Marcus handed her the wooden spoon while he fetched her a cup of coffee and refilled his own. “Sure does.” She gladly accepted the coffee before he guided her away from the stove and made her sit at the bar so he could plate up the scramble he’d made. Even at the stove, he moved with a grace she associated with him catching passes on the field. As he.
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