***

Scott likes to doodle.

Whenever I walk into the staff kitchen in the morning, I find the edge of the sports section covered in doodles of motorcycles, cars, jets or anything with a motor in it. It's not that he particularly likes to read the sports section, he prefers the international news. I guess he does it to piss Logan off, since sports is his first choice, and Scott always gets to the paper first. That would make an interesting study.

Whenever he gets close to a pen and paper, he's all over it. Not even my medical journals are safe.

Which is ironic, really, considering how often I've heard him scolding the kids about it. He doesn't like them to draw on their notebooks. Not that he's that anal, but he likes to pretend some of the kids actually pay attention in math class. And those were his exact words.

It's not just doodles, he likes to draw. He once did a sketch of me sleeping. He keeps it on the door of his locker in the sub-basement. If he can't sleep, he gets up and draws me, and there have been many, many times he's woken me up at odd hours of the morning with the scratching of pencil on paper. So he's got a stackful of papers in his office desk drawer, all of me sleeping. Some of them show me in less than scanty covering, and I wish he'd destroy them before any of the students get a hand on them. And I don't even want to think about where the other hand will be.

So here I am, sitting at the office with my morning coffee. I've taken the paper with me and trace my fingers over the pen marks over the edge. He's been at it again.

Movement in the corner of my eye startles me.

"Hey," Scott says, leaning against the door jamb. He's crossed his arms over his chest.

"Don't sneak up on people like that! Can't you stomp or whistle or something?" I laugh, and throw a pencil at him. He catches it in mid-air. Figures.

He walks over to me, stands behind me and starts to rub my shoulders. A sketch of two figures catch my attention, and I hold up the page.

"What is this?" I ask and hold a finger at the drawing.

He leans in a bit. "You're looking at it upside down."

I turn the page around, and feel the blush spread on my cheeks. "Oh."

As he rubs my shoulders, he lowers his head to whisper in my ear, "Don't suppose you'd be in the mood for that later?" I can hear the smirk in his voice.

I relax my head back, leaning onto his shoulder while he massages mine. "Keep that up, and I will be."

He laughs, stops doing his magic and gets up.

Feeling disappointed I open my eyes and look at him. "Hey!"

"I'm sorry. I have a class to teach. Maybe I'll be back later," he winks and smiles.

"Well, maybe I won't be here!"

"Fine by me. I have stuff to do, anyway" he smirks at me again and I fight the urge to throw something at him again.

"Dim-wit" I mutter at him. He hears it, looks shocked, then pouts.

"Am not" he whines. He loves to act childish when no-one's around to see.

"Are, too," I smile at him. "Now scoot. I have tests to grade," I say putting my coffee cup aside and pulling up a stack of papers.

"Fine," he comes over and kisses the top of my head. "I'll pick you up for lunch in two hours."

"Sounds good."

"And maybe make reservations for a dinner," he says and leans over to my ear again. "If you wouldn't mind going out on a date with your one-eyed wonder?"

I laugh, and turn my head so I can face him. "Baby, there's only one one-eyed wonder I'm worried about, and it has nothing to do with your eyes."

I wait till the words sink in, and kiss him on the cheek before sitting back down.

It's his turn to blush.