Lesser, Greater, Middling

[Bears]

"She drove him mad, entirely mad, and there was nothing he could do about it but feel himself fall for it, time and time again."​

 

[Bears]

One moment Franchesca was tangled in her bed sheets with a phone pressed to her ear and Wolfgang's voice drowning out the rest of the world, and in the next she was hunched over her desk, a single lamp illuminating her room while her hands scribbled away at a paper. The professor had been right in saying it wasn't the hardest of papers to write, it involved a lot of introspection and a part of Franchesca enjoyed talking about herself. The fact that it would be the professor reading her thoughts on how composition was an evil necessity was just icing on the cake.

Still, she would've liked more sleep, and that feeling only felt magnified when she woke up the next morning with the alarm clock ringing and her body having only enjoyed a measly four hours of rest. Franchesca swiped at it lazily and knocked over the phone she had forgotten to return in the process. The young woman cursed, loudly, before she threw herself out of bed to make sure she hadn't broken anything beyond repair.

After returning everything to its rightful place, Franchesca went through the old morning ritual all over again. It was Thursday and tomorrow was Friday but the thought of going to school with everything going on still brought on a heaviness. Her feet dragged more than normal, it took her a little bit more time slipping her head through the right hole of the shirt, and she ate breakfast with as much enthusiasm as a young child instructed to eat his veggies. Isabelle and Amelia noticed her pawing at the food with her fork but were smart enough to not prod. Stepping out, Franchesca left her hair down and wore an old Nirvana t-shirt and denim shorts.

The ride over to Lorenzo was beautiful for the first time in a long time. Ever since that storm that forced her into the professor's home for the very first time, the old Italian coastal town had taken a very depressing color, and that wasn't even considering the evilness at play in the background. The sun shone down on them today but even in the brilliant warmth her thoughts still drifted back to Rafael and Thomas. It felt like ages since the last time they talked and she couldn't help but worry.

The news vans still camped outside the front gates ruined the scenery further as she approached but Franchesca did her best to be as unassuming as possible. She didn't need any more run-ins with the cameras or the dean. She just needed to get through with the rest of the day. You'll make it out the other side, Franchesca repeated under her breath as she rode into the campus. She began to gather looks, clearly the school hadn't forgotten about all the drama she was tied to overnight, but the young woman did her best to ignore it.

She went to class, took notes, daydreamed about Germany and soon enough she found herself walking to the main building with only one class left that afternoon. Wolfgang's. Franchesca had seen him nearly everyday for the past two weeks, and even with the phone call they shared the time between right then and back in the dean's office was disproportionately long. It brought on uncomfortable thoughts about the future and how they would work while they both pursued different things, but Franchesca cast the thoughts aside, justifying that action by saying she was getting ahead of herself.

Regardless, Franchesca found herself back in the same room as before where everyone seemed to crowd by the windows. She sat comfortably in the corner like last week, crossing one leg over the other as Rachel, the redhead who never seemed to stop asking questions, sat down next to her. Franchesca didn't say anything, just acknowledged her presence with a faint smile and trained her gaze on the door.

In her hands was his paper and in her chest was this growing uncertainty. gnawing away at her like a hunger. It wasn't the first time she had felt it but it was the first time it came in regards to Wolfgang. Franchesca simply hated waiting for people because there was a time in her life where no one ever came.​

 

[Nav]

Wednesday happened to be the day from hell, because it took all of his energy merely wrangling the students, who were all worked up about all the news flying around the campus. The buddy system, that freshman chick who flipped off the camera, Rafael… it pleased him only slightly to hear that the rumor of him sleeping with Franchesca hadn't made it any farther than it did the day before, for if it had, he was confident he would have heard about it at least a few times. Incidentally, Wednesdays were also his busiest days. He had classes nearly all day, with only a few interludes of peace in between.

One was spent at lunch, which he took with Dr Diedre at the nearby canteen for sandwiches and coffee. For the level of disdain Dr Diedre sometimes put on for Wolfgang, the two got on fairly well, and would occasionally pick up lunch together. They talked about nothing important, though Dr Diedre had an interest in Austrian and German culture and heritage, and Wolfgang was more than obliged to entertain his questions.

After lunch, which was perhaps the highlight of his day up until that point, he returned to classes. At very least, his senior thesis class was tame, as none of them cared much about anything besides waiting for graduation. By that point, Wolfgang had all but given up on lecturing them on any material, when they so blatantly cared about so little. How he managed to get through the rest of the day, he wasn't sure, but it was his last class… just one more, and he was free of the throngs of students.

Not late, but precisely right on time, for the last class, Wolfgang stepped into the room and swung the door shut behind him, sliding his shoulder bag off and dumping it on to the table. "Very well," he began without looking up, "you were supposed to have your one page reports done today. Please bring them forward."

Students got up from their seats unenthusiastically, creating a pile at the edge of the professor's desk. Everyone turned in one page, except for a few, whose essays trickled over to two pages. Rachel was the only one to hand in a glossy, report folder with what looked like a small novel. Her freckled cheeks blushed a hot red as she extended it out to him, rather than placing it in the pile with the rest.

"I hope you don't mind, I went a bit overboard," she muttered shyly, looking up at his face, but never quite meeting his eye. Instead, her gaze settled on his forehead, his nose, his ear… anything to look at but his eyes.

"Thank you, Rachel," he remarked, taking it from her and throwing it on the top of the pile with the rest. It made a 'thud' when it hit the desk. "I look forward to spending my entire evening reading through your Dictionary." His tone was not harsh, nor unamused, just blunt. What did amuse him, however, was glancing up and watching the shade in Rachel's cheeks turn from tomato to a shade of red he'd never even dreamed of seeing before. No colour, not in any paint he'd ever bought, came in the Rachel's cheek red. He watched her with a coy smirk as she nodded and scuttled away, practically crouching into her desk with embarrassment.​

 

[Bears]

Franchesca sat a little straighter at his entrance, eyes trailing him as he made his way from the door to the desk. Professor Wolfgang Reiter spoke with a listless gaze and a blunt tongue and Franchesca could not help the amusement that found her face. Her lips came to a curve, her brow quirked slightly and Franchesca moved to cover her mouth in an effort to mask what she was feeling.

There was something about being in a classroom with him filled to the brim with students that made the nature of their relationship all the more exciting. Indeed, the thought of the two of them being the only souls who knew invigorated her and suddenly it didn't feel like the end of the day.

Franchesca was running on little sleep and had spent the past few hours trying her best to ignore all the murmurs, it was exhausting, but in that moment Franchesca was the most attentive she had been all day. Just like before with the first meeting questions the young woman seemed content to wait out the rest of the class. From all across the room students stood and presented papers of varying quality to Wolfgang and Franchesca simply sat there and observed.

She wondered what he was thinking, if at any point he might've been thinking about her like she was about him. Franchesca knew Wolfgang to be a good actor, he had proven it the very first day the class met and back at the office in the face of a rumor that was too close to the truth for comfort.

The sound of Rachel retreating into her desk brought Franchesca back to reality. She cleared her throat, standing with her paper in hand as she seemed to be the last person to turn her work in. Franchesca moved across the room, her expression blank all the while, until of course she stood at the front with her back turned to everyone except the professor.

There she offered only to him a knowing smile and a wink before placing her paper at the top. "It was easy." Franchesca alluded, knowing that she'd just sound cocky to the whatever oblivious individual might be listening, before she turned on her heel and returned to her seat for the lecture.​

 

[Nav]

He'd been expecting Franchesca to come last and, true to his anticipation, she did. His eyes flicked up to her, both hands resting on the table, his weight crouched forward and putting him in the unusual position of his line of vision being below hers. For once, he was looking up to her, not the other way around. He smiled at her comment, giving her a subtle shake of his head.

"It will get harder," he assured her. "The class, that is."

Pushing off, he proceeded to the front of the room, and commenced. He resisted the urge to read her essay right then and there, just to crack into the wild mind of hers for a few moments and see what she had to think. He resisted, though he eagerly awaited a few free moments later that evening to indulge himself.

"In simple words, composition is the arrangement of shapes in a picture, or a sculpting, or anything, really, though for the sake of this class, we'll be looking only at 2-D models. It is one of the most elusive and neglected aspects, but is one of the most crucial ingredient to every good piece of work." Wolfgang sat on the edge of his desk, teaching from his brain and experience, rather than a textbook. He didn't like textbooks, and he never had. Perhaps it was because he never finished school himself, and felt intimidated by having to compete with how formally, and how properly, concepts were laid out in their glossy pages.

"We will be discussing, throughout this semester, eleven principles of design and composition: balance, unity, pattern, contrast, proportion, emphasis, rhythm, repetition, variety, and movement. Some of you may have already mastered a few of these techniques. In fact, I know of a few who have. Other may not even know what they mean, and both levels of experience are fine for this course. For those who understand, it will be a reiteration of your foundations. For those new to the concepts, it will be an easy introduction. We will start with balance." Wolfgang laced his fingers together around one knee, still casually sitting against a desk at the front of the classroom.

He didn't use fancy devices, like projectors or slideshows. He hardly had the time to grade his students' work as it was, let alone assembling some flashy display for topics he could discuss just as easily. "Please get out your sketch pads, will you? Your assignment for next week is to compose a piece, 2-D medium of your choice, which demonstrates balance. Now, what is balance in art?"

Wolfgang lectured on balance for part of the hour before breaking off to give them some time to start their compositions and to ask any questions. Rachel's hand shot up immediately.

"In your Master Lecture Series, you said something like 'art is the balance between chaos and order,' do you still believe that?"

Wolfgang's eyebrows crept up his face as she spoke. "My Master Lecture Series?" he couldn't help but laugh. "That was nearly fifteen years ago. I didn't believe those still existed, I still believe that to be true, but the definition of the balance I referred to there, and the balance I'm referring to in composition are two different things."

"Oh," Rachel curled her lips into her mouth, looking pensive. "Do you have a size requirement for this assignment?"

"No, so long as I can see it without bifocals, and so long as you can drag it into the classroom unassisted."

"How many points is this worth to our final grade?"

"I don't know." Wolfgang shrugged. "You have eleven topics, a thesis project near the end of the semester, so, we'll call it approximately one-twelfth."

Rachel squirmed in her seat. It was evident from the pained look on her face she was brimming with more questions, but the glaring looks from her neighbors repressed them. She nodded, the class went silent, and Wolfgang invited the students to work for a while, or could leave a few minutes early if they chose. Most left. By the end of the class, the last of the students were trickling out.​

 

[Bears]

Franchesca dropped back into her chair and she let out a breath as she landed. Rachel glanced at her momentarily in response but the professor spoke up and her attention redirected. Franchesca came to lean back against the frame, her legs sliding out in front of her but remaining with one crossed over the other. Soon enough her arms came over her chest to do the same and like she had during their phone call Franchesca began to bite down on the her bottom lip with a smile.

That was smooth.

Franchesca did her best to let the giddiness subside as the professor took to the front of the class... but every few minutes she found herself smiling. It was ridiculous and sickeningly sweet but she couldn't help it. His method of teaching was blunt and informal but it was also incredibly real and something she had yet to experience in her other classes. It occurred to her that this was their first `formal` lecture.

He wasn't sharing information regurgitated from a lesson plan or reciting from a book, Wolfgang was speaking of his understanding, using his words and telling them what was his concept of balance. It was intriguing and though Franchesca personally felt like she had a good grasp on the concept he brought up notions she hadn't considered.

When he called for their sketchpads she listened and dug through her leather bag in response. She ended up pulling out a lollipop that she had bought during lunch alongside her pencil and pad, popping the cherry flavored candy between her lips in an effort to stifle anymore subconscious grins before jotting down the important notes in the corner. He explained their assignment and Franchesca decided that her balance painting would be third piece in her growing portfolio.

Rolling the lollipop from one side of the mouth to the other Franchesca was too focused on deciding what to sketch to even care about whatever series of questions Rachel had prepared for the professor. By the time students were up and leaving the young woman was busy at work scratching away at the paper. She drew two pairs of feet, bent almost like they were of a dancer and was in the middle of shading when the door closed and she looked up to see she was the only one left.

Naturally, her gaze drifted to Wolfgang and the lollipop rolled once more.

"You know Rachel is probably gonna come into class next week with an entire exhibit worth of balance focused artworks." She grinned.​

 

[Nav]

Wolfgang, though his lecture was over, remained at his post at the head of the room, relaxed and quiet. He didn't watch one particular thing, his eyes continuing to rove around the space, though he found himself pausing longer at the sight of Franchesca and her lollipop. She had a sweet tooth, that one, he noted, before his eyes carried on in their path. There was something comforting about the scratching of pencils on thick paper, and when the sounds gradually decreased to only one, he remained hushed, giving Franchesca peace until she realized she was alone on her own accord.

Almost alone, that was, though Wolfgang proved as still and as silent as a statue. She noticed after about five minutes of being alone, and he smiled. "I realize that," he mentioned with a chuckle. "She'll have to do some balancing over her own if she hopes to get them all in here unassisted." He didn't have many regulations for his assignments, but he expected each student to be able to handle their own work. If it got so big or overweight that it required two, or more, people to handle it, he didn't want to be bothered.

Not that he couldn't appreciate a grand scale piece, and would be more encouraging of such artwork for their finale piece, he couldn't be bothered for something as trivial as a weekly assignment.

Unlacing his fingers from around his knee, Wolfgang stood and moved to collect the stack of papers, and Rachel's book, into his shoulder bag. "Did you have a nice day today?" he asked, his question innocuous enough, though he had other intentions. He narrowed his eyes and studied her, longer than he did in class, and noted she seemed to be in a good mood, at least better than she had when she called him. He was all the more glad for it, pleased even more was he that she seemed to be interested in the given assignment.

"I saw you were quite engrossed in the piece you're working on. Do you find balance of particular interest?" Wolfgang rarely used balance in his own work, but he could appreciate it for what it was worth. "Your interest will never match that of Rachel's, of course, but perhaps your lukewarm submission will be decent." He smirked, sliding his shoulder bag on over his shoulder, having a little fun with his light jests.​

 

[Bears]

Franchesca seem to mull over his question for a moment, slipping the lollipop that had colored her lips a bright red out of her mouth and twirling it in the air lightly in thought. She turned back to him, eyes narrowing while the lollipop returned to her inner cheek and the young woman shrugged. "About as good of a day I could get considering... well, everything. I guess."

She sighed but smiled as she stood up. "To answer your question about balance, well... I don't have a specific interest in it but its always something I've thought about when it comes to my art." Franchesca began as she walked over to join him by the desk. In her hand she brought along her sketchpad, lifting it and showing it to him along the way at the lukewarm comment. "Please, Rachel wishes she could draw feet like this."

Franchesca turned to him with a tilt of her head. "And you? How was your day, Professor Reiter?"

With his bag, Wolfgang slid to rest one hip against the desk as she approached him with her sketch pad in his hand. When she tilted it to him to show it, he reached out and took it, looking it over. "It's a nice sketch," he mentioned. "Do you plan to paint it? Or leave it as a sketch? I suppose it is slightly warmer than lukewarm, though it's no exhibition."

He handed the sketchbook back towards her, his hands falling back to the desk. "Mm, it was alright. Long."

"I'm not sure yet. I was going to paint it and include it in my portfolio but with a reaction like that I'm starting to feel like I could do something better." Franchesca shrugged again though the look on her face was more playful than anything. She turned to face him fully and pushed the sketchpad off to the side. Her eyes flicked to the closed classroom door before falling on his hand and like plenty of times before her fingers moved to get tangled up in his.

"Not in the mood for talking?" Franchesca asked as they touched, tilting her head further and the cherry lollipop falling wayside as result.

"I think it'd do well in your portfolio if you decide to paint it," he replied, a smirk rising through him and forming the first suggestions of dimples in his cheeks. The heat of her hand against his solidified the sensation, and he was able to exhale his first breath of relief since his alarm went off that morning. In the scant space between them, he could smell the artificial sweetness of her treat, just like he had the wine.

"We could talk about it, my day," he agreed, closing his eyes almost completely, but not all the way so he could just see the hazy image of her. "Or we could choose to not talk at all."

"Who's to say we can't do both?" Franchesca suggested with a small breath. She inched forward, shifting the lollipop around her mouth lightly with each step she took towards him. Her smile grew as the distance closed and once they were close enough she continued, motioning towards the door with a sly nod. "It's the end of the day so we've got the time... and the privacy."

Franchesca's tone was suggestive but in her mind the decision was already made. The young woman had decided in that moment that they had gone far too long without a kiss. Franchesca took the risk and pulled the candy from her mouth before rising up to meet him in one fluid motion. There, by the desk, she smiled again as pressed her sweetened lips against his.

"Perhaps," he agreed, watching her with every inch of space she closed. His lips parted slightly, he couldn't help it. "But I have a pinky promise to keep, don't I?" He'd told her aunt to remind her of the promise he'd made, one he didn't intend to break. One that Franchesca didn't seem to want him to break either, for she pulled her candy from her mouth and met him in a long-waited kiss.

His arm swooped around her middle, pulling her closer, applying a little more pressure into the kiss as he did. It had been too long since he'd felt her lips on his, and it was like heaven when they were reunited.

She let her lollipop drop to the floor knowing full and well she wouldn't be needing it anymore. The only thing that Franchesca needed was his touch, and it wasn't because it made her feel like her problems were miles way, but it gave her the strength to overcome them. When she was with Wolfgang she felt unstoppable and in the embrace they shared she stopped caring about the nature of their relationship, the secrecy and the drama all around them. Franchesca pulled away, but only for a breath, and rested her forehead against his while she tried to catch it.

"I missed you." She whispered with a playful smirk before pushing him backwards until the chair behind the desk caught his knees and he sank down. Franchesca straddled him, her knees coming to rest on both sides of his hips while her hands ran up the length of his neck, stopping only when her fingers buried themselves in the waves of silver. There she lifted his gaze to meet her's clearer and she whispered again.

"Did you miss me?"

The sucker hit the floor and shattered with a chatter of noise. His other arm came around her, scooping her up as close as he could make her, about to pull her into his lap, but he never even needed to. Seeming to read his mind, she pushed him back and he fell into his chair, rolling back a few inches until the weight of her on his lap stopped them.

"I did miss you," he answered in a breathy voice, his head lolling back as she pushed her hands through his hair, eliciting an uncontrolled murmur of approval from his lips. "A small part of me was worried you'd decide this wasn't worth it," he admitted. After their conversation, it had been a very real possibility, and he wouldn't have argued against any decision she made.

But God, did the feeling of her fingers bring shivers up his spine.

From Wednesday morning to Thursday afternoon. That's how long they had gone without seeing each other, roughly about a day and a half and yet it had felt like so much longer. Franchesca needed him desperately in more ways than just one and that's why he she couldn't help but chuckle softly at his admittance.

"This, my aunt, and my art are all I really got." Franchesca admitted earnestly with the shake of her head. She ran a hand through his tousled silver waves and mirrored him from before as she rose to plant a soft kiss on his hairline. When she came back she lifted his chin and kissed him for the second time. The second kiss was hotter, hungrier and it all grew rapidly. Her hands left his hair in search for his fingers and she brought them to the hem of her shirt, the smile she gave him in their kiss the only instruction she had to give.

Maybe in any other situation, he wouldn't need to be told. In a classroom, after the day they had, he did. Her fingers guided his to the hem of her shirt, his grip tangling up in the fabric. He forgot about her previous comment, and any thoughts of replying as she burned a searing kiss on to lips. He broke it only for one thing, to slip the black t-shirt up and over her head, discarding it to the side. The moment her hair tumbled back down over her shoulders, his lips were back on hers, hands against her lower back.

His hands began to explore the softness of her skin, but shuddered to a stop when a terrible noise interrupted their shared silence.

"Professor Reiter?" a familiar voice rented the air, causing Wolfgang to nearly choke on his breath. "You weren't in your office, so I came to the classroom. Can I come in?"

"I wasn't in my office, so you came to the classroom?" he echoed, hooking Franchesca's shirt with the toe of his shoe and sending it below his desk, thanking all that was holy that it was a solid front to the ground.​

 

[Nav]

"Is that fucking Rachel?" Franchesca whispered with wide eyes as soon as Wolfgang turned back to face her. The young woman wasted no time hopping off of the professor's lap, spinning around for a moment to see if there was anywhere else she could hide that was a little more comfortable than the rather small space underneath the desk. She might've thought of something but the door clicked and Franchesca panicked.

"FUCKING RACHEL UGH." Franchesca groaned, though still as quiet as a whisper, before she dropped to the floor right as the sound of the door swinging open filled the room. Cursing quite literally everything, she crawled into the tight space, clutching her shirt and bringing her knees up against her chest in order to fit.

Franchesca shot the professor a look of concern, anger, and of course sexual frustration. Sitting there in the little dark cubby of the desk she buried her face in her shirt and hoped that'd be enough to muffle whatever frustrated noise might escape her in a moment of weakness.

Had he not been feeling the way he had, it might have amused him. Almost. The situation was incredibly comical, like a bad movie. He wondered then when his life had become a sitcom just in time for the door to creak open and the bright red, wiry curls to come bouncing in.

"I wanted to talk to you, professor," she said, crossing through the classroom and taking a seat. Wolfgang grimaced, and did what he could not to accidentally boot Franchesca in the ribs.

"Now is not a good time, Rachel," he admitted.

"It'll be really quick, I promise," she pleaded, her watery eyes softening as she stole a seat across from him, clutching her sketch pad to her chest. "I just... I want to make sure I'm doing everything right for this class, I can't afford to do poorly."

"I'm confident you won't do poorly," he replied.

"Good, because my mom is a huge fan of yours. You met her once at the Tate Modern? She came to one of your exhibitions and met you? Anyways, she got me into art and she's coming to visit me for her birthday and I was hoping..." but she trailed off.

"Hoping?"

"You'd come to dinner with us. It'd be the best birthday present I could ever get my mom ever. She's loved you for--...ever."

Franchesca could handle Rachel's barrage of questions in regards to class requirements. She could handle stopping herself from sleeping with Wolfgang. But she couldn't handle the both of them at the same time. The feeling was only made worse however, when Rachel turned out to not have questions about school, but instead had a singular question about dinner. Fucking dinner with her mother. Franchesca's reaction was quieted but immediate and she threw her head back in expression. The desk shook a brief moment at the sound of Franchesca knocking the her head against the wood and she was quick to muffle the groan of pain that left her. Rachel's eyes widened and she looked down at the desk from the other side, big hesitant orbs coming back up to temporarily pause Wolfgang's answer to her request.

"Umm... what was that, professor?" Rachel questioned, eyes glazing over with concern. "Did you hit yourself just now? Are you alright?"

"Uhh," Wolfgang stammered for a second, his eyebrows lifted. "Yes, yes, I did. Ow?" He hardly sounded convincing to anyone, but what other reason would there be for it? Surely, no one would believe Wolfgang was harboring a student he had been, up until recently, making out with under his desk. For lack of a better explanation, Rachel seemed to accept it.

"As for your mother," he cleared his throat, groping for a topic change. "I'll have to get back to you on that matter when you know the dates. I'm fairly occupied this semester..."

"Oh." It was clear that it hadn't been the answer Rachel was looking for, but she shrugged it off. "I'll let you know once she books her tickets? Anyways, balance..."

Just pull the damn fire alarm or something, Franchesca thought. It was a stupid idea of course but there was little else that came to mind and there was little else she could actually do from her position underneath the desk. So instead Franchesca just nursed the back of her head and waited for what felt like hours, but was in reality just about half of one, before Rachel finally shut her mouth and said her goodbyes. Even after the sound of the door shutting close and the following click rung through the air Franchesca didn't come out, she just turned to face him and stretched out her legs which had begun to cramp.

"Oh my god how can somebody actually be that technical? Seriously Rachel? Fuck." Franchesca breathed, a hand coming to rest on her forehead in disbelief. Her voice sounded like she was on the verge of laughing hysterically. "I... I can't believe that just happened."

Wolfgang did what he could to appease the student, while simultaneously coaxing her out the door. He believed that had he not encouraged her so strongly to leave, she might have stayed and spoke with him well into the wee hours of the morning. The door shut behind her and he held his breath, half expecting another knock. When the silence remained, he huffed out a deep breath and flopped back into his chair, scooting back to give Franchesca a bit more room.

"Truthfully? Nor can I. This is why I don't have office hours." Propping his head up, he smiled, offering a hand down to her.

Franchesca couldn't help but crack a smile when he did. She wasn't sure who had it the worst between them in that situation, sure she was physically compromised but was that really more trying than talking around in circles with Rachel while trying to get her to leave? Franchesca didn't know. Either way the young woman took her professor's hand and was careful to not bump her head again on the way out. She hated to admit it but a half hour conversation with Rachel hardly did much for the build up of the moment. Figuring that it had had its time, she slipped her shirt back on, without worrying if Wolfgang felt the same or not. She already knew. Her hand still remained laced with his as she came to sit on his lap, both legs off to the side and her head laid against his chest.

It was then and only then did she allow herself to finally laugh.

"Ah, hah, there is that laugh," he mused when she finally allowed herself to burst out, settled into his lap with her head against his chest. His arms wrapped around her shoulders, pressing a kiss right against her hairline. "I suppose that serves as a reminder that we ought to be exceedingly careful on campus."

That warning didn't get him to remove his arms from around her, or gently shove her off his lap. Instead, he only gave him a little thrill. He adored their shared secret, and the danger of it all. "Feeling a bit better today than yesterday?"

"Mhm." Franchesca nodded, her arms reaching up to drape themselves around his neck. She agreed with him about being a little more careful but at the same time made no attempt to move. "The kissing helped a lot. The laughter too I guess." Franchesca rolled her eyes playfully, leaning away to look at him a proper though she remained comfortably on his lap.

"We're kind of crazy, you know--for doing what we are doing." Franchesca grinned, her smaller frame shaking against him as she laughed again.

"Yes," he agreed, "we are a certain breed of crazy for doing this, but as far as I'm concerned, we're both adults. The only caveat is that I'm your professor." No one would have looked at it strangely had she not been a student and his conscious was clear from a moral standpoint, though he knew few would agree with him, them.

As she leaned away, he smiled, and leaned towards her, placing a small peck on the tip of her nose. "I'm glad you're feeling better. It's already the end of Thursday. Tomorrow, after a bit more classes, we leave for Germany."

"It's about damn time." Franchesca muttered happily. The past two weeks had simultaneously been some of the longest, best and worst days of her life and it was crazy to think they still had 72 more hours to go. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine herself flying out to Germany alongside a man like Wolfgang. Not the Wolfgang Reiter the but Wolfgang himself--a man who she was certain she was falling in love with.

"We should probably get home before it gets dark." Franchesca suggested, kissing him right back on the cheek. She stood up but did not sever the connection shared by their hands. "Are you ready to leave?"

Wolfgang made a disappointed growl when she kissed his slid from his lap, knowing full-well that she was correct. They both ought to get home. He was in desperate need of a night's rest before Germany, and he guessed she was, as well. There was still one more day of classes to suffer through, and another stack of papers to grade, but it'd be well worth it for the weekend.

Standing up, their hands still intertwined, Wolfgang gave her arm a tug to pull her into one last sweet kiss before they'd break apart. Once out the classroom door, they couldn't be seen holding hands, kissing, or laughing quietly amid themselves. "I'm glad I got to see you after class."

It was probably for the best that they weren't seen walking home together so Franchesca knew with a bittersweet feeling in her chest that that was the last kiss she would get from him today. It did not stop her from returning the affection equally though, the young woman getting on her tiptoes to meet him better and bringing her free hand to caress the back of his neck before they pulled away from each other. She took a few steps towards the door, her hand lingering in his until both of their arms were stretched out towards one another. The warm of his touch faded but she smiled all the same.

"I'm so glad that you approached me out there in the commons." Franchesca replied, her hand finally letting go of his as she turned for the door. "I'll see you tomorrow, my heart."​

 

[Nav]

He let Franchesca leave, and followed her path about fifteen minutes later, shutting the classroom door behind him and returning, ever slowly, to home. What he thought would be a peaceful night in turned out to be quite the contrary. He spent the first half of the night to the sounds of a meowing cat and orchestra music packing a bag for the weekend, and a few hours thereafter getting caught up on grading. He hadn't even touched the essays from his intro to composition class, and laid them out on the kitchen counter to be dealt with when he returned home the next week.

It wasn't until nearly one thirty did he finally retire, only to be forced awake again a few hours later by the nasty crowing of his alarm clock, informing him it was already five. He laid in bed for a while, his eyelids drooping and leaden with sleep. His eyes lazily rolled open, glazed over with a remnants of a dream. When he finally convinced his body to get up and shower, it was half past, and once he'd prepared coffee, dress, and towel dried his hair, nearly six. He wasn't out the door until about six fourteen, a terrible hour, he decided.

On his way to class, thankful his first one didn't start until nine, he stopped at the dry cleaners and picked up his tuxedo. He slung the bagged uniform over his shoulder, and proceeded to his officer, where he hid in peace and quiet until nine. Class was more obnoxious than usual, with students geared up that it was Friday and nearly the weekend. Some skipped, and while Wolfgang never mentioned using attendance as part of the grading scale, he took careful note of who was regularly out of the classroom.

Come lunchtime, he spent his hour off again with Dr Deidre, skipping the canteen to go into town and enjoy a nice restaurant instead. The conversation was idle and unimportant, and by the time they returned to campus, Wolfgang had all but forgotten what they talked about. Truthfully, he'd not been paying much attention to the day at all. His lectures were less than enthusiastic and he was just sort of bumbling from one thing to the next, thinking about the flight he and Franchesca would be taking in a few short hours. He couldn't help but be reminded that Dandelion offered to take her shopping on his dime, though he hoped they'd get to spend a little time together before that happened.

Their small moments in-between the rest of life were nice, inarguably so, but Wolfgang was a selfish man and he wanted more time with her. He wanted to sit around in a hotel room where no one knew who they were, or cared, so they could do, and act, however they pleased without fear of discovery.​

 

[Bears]

Franchesca left the classroom with the scent of the professor still faintly lingering in her hair and made her way to the doors. She found her bike and slipped her headphones on before she rode through the campus for the first time that day with a smile on her face. The young woman still got stray looks, she still got small side comments, but she had one thing that made up for all of it. She had Wolfgang. It sucked to make the commute back home alone but knowing that Friday was just one evening away kept Franchseca's spirit high all throughout the ride.

The small smile he had given her only faded as she approached the familiar cobblestone steps leading into the Tregua. It was Thomas. He sat there with his head bent down and his shoulders slumped and to Franchesca it felt like it had been so long since they last saw each other. The young woman's bike came to a quick halt and in response the American looked up.

With the way he had been sitting it wasn't apparent but now, looking at him, suddenly it was all she could see. Franchesca's eyes widened and a breath escaped her. The flesh around his soft brown eyes were beaten purple and similar markings peppered the young man's face. He gave Franchesca a sullen smile as the time she took to take it all in grew. It was only then did she notice the gash that had opened up on his bottom lip.

"You can stop staring anytime you know." He grinned, a stupid boyish grin. Franchesca blinked, she blinked again and slowly got off of her bike. Laying it down near its usual spot she approached him, her hands coming together to fumble with each other underneath her chin in worry.

"What the hell happened?" Franchesca asked him. Thomas shrugged.

"Ask too many questions and somebody is bound to get angry at some point." Thomas explained nonchalantly though she could see the subtle effects the pain had on him. He moved slower than normal, sluggish even and that remained true as he continued with a nod to a pack of ice beside him. "Got my ass kicked. Hoped you were around to offer me some ice since the freezer back at my place is busted." The American chuckled, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly.

"Your aunt found me at the door and well, I'm sure you know her well enough to guess how everything happened after that." Finally he rounded out his explanation and turned back to face her with a small nod. "Your maid? Amelia? She is probably the nicest damn person in this entire town." Franchesca was a little too stunned to react properly, it was a lot to take in, and there was an insane amount of questions that needed to be asked, but before she could do anything he rose both of his hands and waved.

"I know, I know. This came out of nowhere and I'm not really giving you a chance to speak but your aunt already filled me on some important trip your taking tomorrow? To Germany or something? I don't mean to try and spoil something like that by making you worried about me... I just figured that you deserved to hear it from me that I came by rather than from your aunt." Thomas stood up and gave her this half smile before he seemed to prepare to leave. Before he could actually go though, Franchesca came up to him and, with very little thought, punched him in the shoulder.

"I told you to be careful!" Franchesca reminded him angrily though she was more concerned than anything. Thomas groaned and cradled himself at the hit but he nodded all the same.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. My bad. I know. But really, I'm good--your aunt hooked me up with some painkillers and Amelia gave me the ice." He insisted. "Don't worry, please. I got good information out of it so it was worth it. Information, your aunt made me promise to keep to myself until after you come back from your vacation." Franchesca crossed her arms and was clearly prepared to say more when, with a wink, Thomas didn't give her the chance.

"Have fun, bring some souvenirs back." He quipped before turning on his heel and speed walking away. Franchesca was left there by the door, eyes still wide as they were when she first saw him again. After some moment of thought Franchesca, not sure what else she could really do, accepted the conversation or what it was and headed inside. Dinner was eaten over a conversation about Thomas and Wolfgang alike. Isabelle knew things Franchesca did not and the latter Rossi did not refrain from interrogating her godmother. In response the old socialite gave nothing solid, intent that her goddaughter got to enjoy the trip without heavy thoughts to burden her.

Franchesca went to sleep that night thinking about everything, wondering really, how it had all come to this point in just fourteen days. When she woke she learned that Amelia had packed her bags while she slept. There was still a whole day to be had before the flight however and Franchesca was nothing but eager to get it over with. She changed, she rode up to Lorenzo, she went to classes. Friday's schedule was the one that kept her from Wolfgang the most but she was only bothered by it a little--knowing they'd be spending the entire weekend together made it bearable.

All too slowly Friday morning turned to Friday afternoon and Franchesca waited outside on the steps that Thomas had been sitting the night prior. The sun was setting, a golden warmth settling over the small coastal town. One hand gripped the handle of a travel bag, the other carried a small suitcase of her personal belongings. She was dressed simply and comfortably in a light dress, her nicest sundresses and shirts all packed away and ready for hours with Wolfgang in Germany. Franchesca's eyes remained on the bend down the road that led to Wolfgang's home and both Isabelle and Amelia watched with her.

"Are you excited my dear, Aria?" Her aunt asked, a sweet smile on her lips as a cigarette dangled from her fingers. Stray ashes fell onto the older woman's silky dress but she paid it no mind. Franchesca let out a breath but didn't turn when she responded.

"I'm over the moon, really." Franchesca quoted, the smile that came to her face at the thought for her and Wolfgang alone.​

 

[Nav]

Morning transitioned to lunch, which continued on to afternoon, and eventually, evening. After classes, he retired to his home and took a second shower. With a towel tied off around his waist, he double-checked his luggage to make sure he had everything, and packed away the last few items: toothbrush, toothpaste, comb. When everything was set, he dressed. He was always well-dressed in vests, or a button-up, but he chose something a little nicer for the occasion of flying into Germany. His slate grey button up was covered with an ink blank suit coat, and matching slacks. His shoes were equally dark, and polished, all the dark shades made the darker streaks in his hair darker. The silver locks inherited a brilliance of a signet on the Thames, but with a lustrous sheen.

Throwing his bag over his shoulder, Wolfgang grabbed his glasses off the kitchen counter and slid the dark framed lenses up his nose, humming as he glanced around one last time. All the lights had been shut off, a bowl of food set out for Woaf… there wasn't anything left to prepare. Dr Diedre agreed to stop by once on both Saturday and Sunday to ensure the feline was alright, but Wolfgang had very little else to concern himself with. Outside, the cabbie laid on the horn twice, telling him to hurry up.

Last check completed, Wolfgang grabbed his keys and stepped out in to the night. The door to his house swung shut behind him, clicking as the lock fell into place. He loved the Italian night sky. Matte charcoal black uncontrollably covered in thousands and millions of bright specks, casting everything in just enough light that he could see where he was going. He smiled to them as he hopped across the stoop of his house and towards the equally dark taxicab. His feet brushed through dewy grass, and he slid inside after throwing his luggage into the boot.

"Aeroporto?" the cabbie asked, turning his head on a thick neck to look back at Wolfgang as he slid into the backseat.

"No," Wolfgang replied, briefly explaining they first needed to stop at the Tregua downtown before going to the airport. The old cabbie snorted, scratching pudgy fingers against his heavily wrinkled brow, explaining that the detour and extra passenger would cost him extra, to which Wolfgang replied with a polite agreement.

The taxi sputtered down the cobblestone streets, bouncing as it went. The streets were laden with students all looking for a night out on the town. He watched them as they drove by, his head leaning slightly towards the glass that was collecting with condensation. The brakes of the vehicle whined as they pulled to a stop in front of the Inn. The porch lights were on and bright, with the shadowy form of Franchesca sitting out front.

Wolfgang, without getting out—though he would have, had they not already had more than a few close calls with other students—threw open the back door.

"Good evening, Mrs Rossi," he said to the older woman, before turning his smile to Franchesca. "Are you coming? We have a plan to catch."​

 

[Bears]

Now more than ever Franchesca hated waiting. She waited until the sky had melted from gold to coal, until the only things left to illuminate the streets were the lamps lining the cobblestone and the series of stars that decorated the night sky. Her palms were more sweaty than she would ever care to admit out loud by the time a pair of headlights took the turn onto their street. Her heart picked up and she was quick to wipe away any signs of nervousness as the vehicle lulled to a stop in front of them.

The door swung open, his voice rung out and Franchesca smiled.

"Good evening professor!" Her aunt replied happily while Amelia was quick to take Franchesca's bags to the boot. His gaze turned to her and Franchesca nodded, turning back around only to say her farewells. Isabelle Rossi hugged her tightly, giggling as she whispered in her ear. "Remember my darling girl, you make the right time."

Taking her words into consideration with a nod, Franchesca turn and slid into the seat beside him. Amelia rounded back to the stairs and along with Isabelle waved their goodbyes. Lots of save travels, have funs, and a single reminder for Wolfgang about the pinky promise he had made over dinner.

The door closed, the car started and once again, Franchesca smiled.

"It's actually happening." She breathed, turning to Wolfgang before repeating herself a little more excitedly. "This is actually happening."

"I haven't forgotten my pinky promise," he assured the older Rossi woman. "My life depends on it, of that I'm certain." If so much as a single hair on Franchesca's head came to harm, Wolfgang knew he'd be answering for it, but he didn't have any intention of allowing that to happen. Not that anyone at the gallery opening would be particularly threatening. Dandelion was bound to be the worst of the bunch, and all it took to shoo him away was to insult his hair.

When both luggage and Franchesca were loaded, the back door closed, the cab sputtered to life and bounced down the cobblestone streets out of town, hitting the tarmac highway and shooting off towards the airport, which was still another half hour or so away.

Sitting back in his seat and crossing one leg over the other, Wolfgang could only smile at your youthful enthusiasm, which was infectious. "Of course it's happening," he agreed. "You better get all the butterflies out now, for before you know it, you'll be going to your own gallery openings, I'm certain."

His hands rested over his knee, glancing out the window though not for long, it was too dark to make anything out. His attention returned to Franchesca, who was little more than a melting figure of shadow and light, reflected from the headlights. "We'll arrive late tonight. I talked to Dandelion and he said his assistant will be taking you tomorrow morning at ten AM to go shopping. He said she'll meet you in the lobby of our hotel."

Franchesca nodded and did her best to do as he said, to rid herself of the butterflies. Earlier she thought it impossible but hearing it from Wolfgang helped. Casting her nervousness aside for now, her eyes turned to the front and she could not help but wonder what their protocol was for the back of a taxi.

The driver didn't seem the type for gossip, at least from what little view she had of him, and his eyes remained on the road but he was a stranger with ears all the same and Wolfgang was a man who was very hard to forget.

"Dandelion's assistant? So it's not just you who personally puts up with him?" Franchesca noted with a tinge of amusement, her eyes constantly drifting back and forth between the professor and the highway before them. When her eyes came back to him this time they landed pointedly on his hands. "How long is the flight?"

"His assistant, indeed. No, no, Dandelion needs much more attention than I can afford to give him. He needs constantly coddling and reassurance, all the time," he explained with a small smirk, knowing Dandelion wasn't around to defend his fragile ego. For all the display of pride and self-confidence he put on, he was a delicate creature—easily damaged by the words and actions of others. "I don't know how much he pays that poor girl, but it must be substantial."

Wolfgang untangled his hands from where they were laced around his knee and reached out, taking Franchesca's. His smirk eased into a more pleasant smile, noting the clamminess of her palm and the constant dodging of her eyes. "Relax," he told her once more, "deep breaths. We can have a drink on the plane, alright? It's not a long flight. About two hours, or so."

"Poor girl, indeed." Franchesca mused though she didn't mean it. Or at least not entirely, anyways. She bit down on her lip but relented at his touch. A breath escaped her and she looked down, feeling the familiar warmth of his fingers tangling with hers spreading through her body. There in the dark where no one else but them could see, the young woman held her professor's hand once more.

Franchesca inhaled deeply and exhaled just the same. She decided it would be easier to distract herself if she talked. "So. Protocol for Germany." Franchesca began, pausing only so she could give him a telling look towards the driver. "How do you want to go about it?"

"Protocol?" he asked, his head resting back and his eyes closing part way, mostly out of exhaustion. Normally, gallery opening were dull events that didn't interest him. This one was likely to be much the same, but there was a spark growing in his chest knowing Franchesca would be there. "I don't have a protocol."

He followed her glance towards the driver, and only shrugged. "We're going to go to a gallery opening, and we're going to enjoy ourselves. It'll be that simple. Whatever unfolds, will do so naturally, in any way it pleases."

"Hm," he chuckled with amusement, having forgotten all about their little ploy. "Only if you go first, my heart. Perhaps I'll consider following, but I should have you know I'm looked upon for my calm rational and poise." It wasn't hard to believe why. There was something quite playful in Wolfgang's nature, though it wasn't something easily drawn out.

They continued along the stretch of hilly road for quite a while, the cabbie making turns and exits until the blinking lights of the airport came into view. They skipped the first exit for general departures, and traveled a bit longer before pulling off on the second exit. They rolled up to a gait and a quick exchange between the driver and the guard waved them through on to a service road, which eventually dumped on to the tarmac.

The private jet sat idle, its stair ramp dropped and a flight attendant standing at the bottom of the stairs to help them board. A baggage boy hung off in a hooded sweatshirt, jumping to attention and rushing to the boot when the car came to a stop.

"Ready?" Wolfgang asked, though he'd already opened the door and stepped out, never severing his hold on Franchesca's hand.

"Are we still doing the the whole, steal Dandelion's scarf and run around naked thing?" Franchesca replied with a warm smile finding her lips at his simplicity, his steadiness. Her eyes turned back to the front but not in the same worried manner as before. "Because I want to clarify that I am totally willing if you are."

It didn't occur to Franchesca that they would be flying private. Though, as she stepped out of the cab with her hand in his and into the moonlight, the thought of Wolfgang taking off his belt and shoes and throwing them into a plastic box at a security check did seem a little foolish. He had chosen to be plain and upfront so Franchesca followed him in suit, pressing up against his side as she answered him.

"Ready."

"Good, let's go," he said, coaxing her along to the narrow stairwell leading up into the cabin, passing a pleasant enough smile to the woman ushering them as he passed. The inside of the plane was lavish. There were no rows of seats, only the most elegant leather couches and coffee tables with ornate cabriole legs. There were plush curtains at the windows, and inviting jazz music playing overhead.

Wolfgang's fingers remained tangled with Franchesca's, looped and loose, as he stepped down the center aisle and found one of the sofas to crash down into.

The stewardess shut the plane door behind them, fluttering about in towering heels. "Coffee? Spirits?" she asked.

Franchesca had lived a troubled but ultimately comfortable life. A life that allowed her to grow into a humble woman but also a life that had let her see more of the world than some could ever say, but a private jet with all its luxury and detail was definitely beyond her. While Wolfgang maneuvered it with comfortable grace, Franchesca looked all around her in awe. It was only the voice of the attendant that took her out of the trance.

"Vodka." The young woman answered after a moment of thought, adding a polite please afterwards. Franchesca smiled as the attendant left, turning to Wolfgang as her nervousness seemed to grow into excitement. She felt like she saw a part of the future when she looked at him sitting on the leather couch the way that he was.

A laugh leaving her, she nudged his knee with her own, but remained standing. "Now I wasn't expecting to fly coach or anything... but a jet? Jesus, Wolfie."

"Whiskey, thank you," he answered once Franchesca made her request.

He looked up to her where she remained, standing like she was uncomfortable. His smile only widened, forging those unforgiving, deep dimples. "This is your first art gallery opening," he reminded her in a casual tone, shrugging. "Did you really believe I was going to let you roll in on 747?" His leg jostled a bit when she gave it a nudge.

"Not that Dandelion would have even allowed it. Now, are you going to join me or am I going to have to suffer this flight alone?"

It didn't matter how salubrious the furnishing inside the airplane were, to Wolfgang, it was still just a flying metal tube and he didn't not like it. Alcohol was the only suitable means of surviving a flight without risking a panic attack.

Franchesca gave the entire place one last look around before giving the professor her answer. She kicked off her flats and held the back of her dress as she moved to sit on his lap. Like before her arms rested on his shoulders but this time around Franchesca did not straddle him, instead her legs extended outwards in the same direction. There she gave him the first of many kisses to come, pressing deeper and deeper into him until the sound of the attendant returning with their drinks interrupted them.

Franchesca pulled away quickly, clearly reminded of their last lap makeout venture with Rachel. The attendant simply smiled knowingly and set their drinks down along with matching glasses. Franchesca watched her leave before turning back to Wolfgang, laughing again.

"I'm going to have to get used to not hiding with you." She noted, her thumb brushing his cheek lightly.

The plane rumbled with life and vibrated the cabin ever-so slightly as the engines were going through pre-flight. In response, Wolfgang slid his glasses off his nose and tossed them on to the coffee table, pinching the bridge between his pointer finger and thumb, mentally preparing himself for the torturous two hours that were to follow. In the middle of his mental breathing exercise, a sudden weight in his lap caused him to sit up straight.

Warmth flooded through him immediately and his arms found their way around Franchesca's waist intrinsically. Her lips on his was enough to make him forget about the plane until it began taxiing towards the runway, making all sorts of noises that Wolfgang could never learn to appreciate.

He distracted himself with those full lips, hardly seeming to notice their drinks arrived.

"And then get used to it again when we return home," he replied, tilting his cheek into her hand. Perhaps there were two suitable remedies to preventing a flight-induced panic attack.

"We'll cross that bridge when we get there." Franchesca responded, her smile widening before she pressed a light kiss onto his nose, and then his cheek, peppering him with affection once more. The moment they stepped into that jet, Franchesca realized, they no longer had to be a student and a professor. Just lovers. There were no secrets to be kept in Germany.

Franchesca slipped away from him, but only for a while, as she both poured a glass of their respective poisons. Whiskey in one hand and vodka in the other she returned to Wolfgang with a content sway in her hips. Franchesca extended the hand with his glass towards him with a playful smile.

"Would you like to start our little getaway with a toast or shall I?"​

 

[Nav]

"For now, we will forget about Italy," he agreed, leaving her to fetch their drinks. When she returned with one of both, he smiled and took his, though the smile faltered for a millisecond when the plane swung around on to the runway. The engines revved.

"Please do," he agreed, though like all of their best moments, the toast was interrupted by the plane launching itself forward. It hurdled itself down the runway, the thrust sinking him deeper into the leather cushion as the plane lifted from the ground and wobbled a second before steadying, and ascending.

Wolfgang paled ever so slightly.

Luckily for them they had chosen strong spirits and there was no need to fill their cups to the brim. The dark liquid in the glass tilted as they did and Franchesca, no stranger to flights but a stranger to the jet, was surprised at the smoothness of the transition. She had sat down beside Wolfgang when the jet first moved and gave his knee a small reassuring squeeze at the sight of the color in his cheeks faltering. She stayed like that for a time with him until the jet evened out and Italy was below them.

Finally she turned to face him fully and picked up right where they had left off. Her smile returned while her hand rose and, as Wolfgang requested, Franchesca took a moment to christen their trip.

"To you, me and Germany." Franchesca began, a series of different emotions running through her at the sight of the glass in her hand and the man in front of her. "To first times and plenty of more times to follow. Cheers." Their glasses clinked and with a smile Franchesca threw her head back and took the shot. Warmth coursed through her and she shivered for a moment at the sensation.

She leaned forward and set her glass aside for now, offering him a demure little smile once she returned. "So what are we going to do for two hours?"

The squeeze to his knee returned the smile, but not the colour. A strong sip of his whiskey began to rosy up his cheeks once more, the liquid going down with a pleasant burn. He committed a faux pas by sipping before the toast, but he needed it, desperately. Once the plane evened and he relaxed, he was able to acknowledge her toast a bit more properly, though it was clear the whole idea of flying had him slightly more on edge than was usual.

"To us, then," he agreed as the ringing of their glasses clicking together rented the air. He took a second sip, but instead of politely allowing himself only a quarter of a mouthful, he downed the entire glass worth like a shot. The booze hit his stomach like quick-hardening cement, before churning out and warming his veins. He leaned forward, arm stretching around her waist to return the glass to the table, only to have his hand return to her hip a moment later.

"A distraction may be good," he admitted, leaning back into the cushions and letting his eyes traverse up the length of her torso, her neck, her chin, before exchanging a glance with her. "Calm my nerves a little. Though I also have a week's worth of papers to grade, including yours, so I could always just work on that if you, too," he teased, his fingertips gently stroking her side.

Now the private jet plane was in no lack of comfort. The couch was comfortable, large even and Franchesca let her thoughts roam for a good while. All the while Franchesca's eyes moved with his, tracing the solid outline of his body just slightly altered by the suit he had chosen to wore. She though back to her suitcase and wished she had worn a prettier dress but stopped the thought once she realized that she was just delaying the inevitable.

Indeed the last thing she wanted to do with him in the air was watch him grade papers.

His hands pressed against her side softly and Franchesca let out a breath. "I think I have something that can keep your mind off of things for a bit." She went on to explain before urging him to sit up from the cushions. Once he listened, her hands rose to his chest and pushed him backwards until his legs swung up onto the seat and his back was against the leather.

Franchesca crawled over him but the only touch she offered was that of her legs brushing against the side of his. Her hair tumbled down in waves above him and she was quick to sweep it off to the side.

"Knowing our luck I'm going to kiss you in a second and somehow, someway Rachel stowed away and will come barging in." She laughed warmly, leaning in closer as his presence and the vodka alike brought back her heat.

"This time around I make no promises that I'll be able to stop."

"Oh?" he asked, though he didn't really need to hear her answer. She coaxed him into a slightly less slouched position, and he obliged willingly by shifting his weight and lengthening his spine. She threw him back with no polite maneuvers, but with a smile, he again accommodated her, knowing very well her little pushes and shoves wouldn't have rocked him at all had he not allowed it. He laid back against the couch, bringing his feet up and resting them against the opposite armrest.

All signs of disdain for the flight disappeared from his expression, replaced instead by a warmth in his cheeks with the acceleration of his heart-rate. The brush of her leg, the warmth of her breath not only stirred him, but took over his thinking. A noisy breath escaped between his slightly parted lips; Wolfgang tilted his head back just in time to watch her sweep every bouncing curl away from the side of her face, flipping it over her shoulder.

Her comment twitched the corners of his lips. "Mm," he mused, barely audible, "I don't think I'll care this time." With the admission, his hands snaked up the column of her spine, fingers curled slightly so every ridge and crest of her back was apparent to his touch. Hot, bothered, and not caring about her promise, he leaned up and captured her lips, demanding, fervently, bracing his hands against her to bring her closer. Always closer.

Whatever playfulness Franchesca maintained in her expression faltered immediately at his touch. The sensation of his hands trailing up the length of her back was enough to make her nearly whimper, a trail of the most pleasant goosebumps left in Wolfgang's wake as he forced her breath. His hold on her strengthened and she tensed before their bodies were sent crashing into each other. The moment she felt him against her the tension melted into passion and Franchesca met his lips with great fervor, matching the hunger he displayed all too eagerly.

Ironically it was Franchesca who parted first and she did it with great force, almost as if she had to tear herself away in order to stop. Though she took the time to adjust her hair earlier, their first go at each other already messied her efforts. This time around she left it wild, a sly smile finding her lips as she slowly began to undress.

Franchesca started with the straps of her little sundress, letting each one fall off of her shoulders. The fabric threatened to fall but teasingly, she held it up before leaning in for another kiss. With her dress just barely clinging on, one hand searched for his buttons amidst the sweet, sweet chaos.

There were no words to be spoken because Wolfgang had a great number of thoughts, but none of them in any coherent language. He didn't want to soil an otherwise perfect moment with talk anyways, and looked up at her with a soft mewl of displeasure when she pulled away. The discontent was short lived though, as she put on the most sensual display he could have imagined. She teased him, in her usual fashion, holding the straps of her sundress as the fabric slid tantalizingly low over the creamy expanse of her skin.

He would have very much liked to return the effect, but Wolfgang Reiter was powerless against her. Her fingers worked the buttons of his shirt, and once she'd unhooked the last one, he arched upwards to help both the shirt, and his jacket, off. Meanwhile, his hands never stopped roving, dipping lower down her body until his fingers curled around her hipbones.

With his jacket and button-up a heap on the floor, Wolfgang met her in a fierce kiss again, planning to make good on her lack of promise for being able to stop.

It was the third kiss where Franchesca finally let the dress fall from her grip. The feeling of the fabric on her skin was replaced by the warmth of his body as he held her tormentingly close. The sundress pooled at her hips where Wolfgang's hands had come to rightfully rest and with a smirk, she reached down and snaked it back upwards, breaking their kiss for a hot second only to discard it and return to him a moment later. With each movement he made she felt the muscle of his body shift and it was likely to drive her crazy. Franchesca couldn't help it, her arms wrapped around the base of his neck and pulled her deeper into him. Franchesca needed Wolfgang and with the way he kissed her she already knew he felt the same. In between kisses she formed a sentence, each word hot vodka against his lips

"Make love to me, Wolfgang." She pleaded, a desperation in her voice that she never knew she was capable of. They had waited and waited, each moment before that interrupted by the most untimely of things. She refused to let it happen this time, Franchesca finally took her aunt's advice.

Franchesca repeated herself, slower and steadier, the Italian rolling off of her tongue as she ran a hand up his neck and through the ends of his silver hair. "Voglio fare l'amore con te, voglio sentirti fino in fondo dentro di me."

His hands were only willing to depart from her skin for the moment it took for her hands to fumble with her dress, and free herself of it. With his shirt and jacket, it fell to the plane floor in a heap. It was no longer just a want; it was a need. Wolfgang Reiter needed Franchesca Rossi as naturally and desperately as he needed oxygen in his lungs. Away from campus, their pretense and façade of professor and student melted away into a simpler way: lovers. The last of their clothes were removed and tossed aside, shoes, trousers... in between each article, their lips met. Every kiss had a raw intensity to it—breathing fast, heart rates faster. Then, before he knew how it happened, her arms wrapped around his neck, their bare skin moving together like the finest of silk.

He didn't need to be told twice, instinct took over at her admission and consent. He flipped her over, throwing her on to the couch and prowling on top, returning their lips together without an inch of space between them. He loved her like she was the last of his kind.

-

"The plane is beginning descent," a voice crackled over the intercom, only to be repeated in Italian. "L'aereo sta iniziando la diescesa."

The edge of Wolfgang's lip curled ever-so slightly at the sound of it, though his eyes remained closed. His chin rested into the groove of her suprasternal notch, his elbows latent in the nooks where her shoulders met her neck, his hands tangled up in her hair and thumbs stroking her temples. "Let's just skip the gallery opening and spend all weekend in the hotel," he whispered, voice a little more coarse than usual.

Franchesca laid on the couch with her arms sprawled about above her head, her hair a wild mess, and her energy worn. With her eyes closed all of her remaining senses were taken up by Wolfgang. She could feel the rise and drop with every single breath, she could feel the soft vibration of his baritone with each word. She could feel his bare body against hers as a constant reminder of what they had just done. A contented sigh left her at his his suggestion, before a series of contemplative sounds left her throat. Franchesca opened one eye to look at him as he rested against her and the smile that came could be heard in her words.

"I bet the hotel room has amazing room service. We'll be very happy, I agree." The young woman answered a little less than seriously with a laugh, her lover rising slightly with each chuckle that escaped. Franchesca looked back up and closed her eyes but the smile remained. "I hope you're ready to handle me all weekend though. Now that you've got me you're stuck with me, I'm afraid."

Unwilling to open his eyes all the way, Wolfgang parted them just enough that he could see her, though she was blurred by the stems of dark lashes still crowding his vision. She hummed for a minute, and he couldn't resist the sweet smile taking him over, not just in the face, but in his spirit, as well. She looked more beautiful there than she had ever before, with her hair in wild curls and her skin shiny and flushed with a small glimmer of sweat.

When she agreed, he chuckled. "I bet they do," he agreed. He tilted his head to press a kiss between her collarbones, arching up so he could lead a trail of pecks up the column of her neck, her pulse point, her jaw. "I'm certain I can handle you." Though she was going to be a handful, per usual. "I suppose being stuck with you, of all people, doesn't sound so bad."

"Mhm." Franchesca mumbled, giggling at how ticklish the kisses on her skin had become. She let herself feel each and every one, the sensation heightened by her lack of sight of him. She bit down on her lip but smiled all the while, each moment of respite between the trail of kisses leading her to ask where he'd land next. The plane lurched as it came closer and closer to the ground and for a moment their time was interrupted by a line of rational thought.

She didn't want to move, she was more than content just relaxing with him as her covers but Franchesca motioned for the string of clothes across the floor all the same. "We should probably get dressed, darling." Franchesca told Wolfgang though she quickly encouraged the exact opposite by nuzzling against him when she continued. "We can take it all off again once we get into the room."

Wolfgang still didn't like the lurching of the plane, but if they were to descend in a fiery ball of steel and electronics, he supposed now would be the best time for it to happen. He could die a content and happy man, satisfied of all his needs. Alas, Franchesca brought up a good point and with one last kiss to her lips, he sat up and ran his fingers through his hair.

"Fine," he agreed, though almost unwillingly as he reached out for each article of clothing and separated it out by tossing it either to her, or forming a pile in his lap. When all was divided, he began the laborious process of dressing with a plane that was wobbling as it approached the runway.

Franchesca got dressed as best as she could and attempted to straighten out the wrinkles in her clothes for awhile before deciding it was aimless. She stood up, sliding into the pair of underwear Wolfgang was ever so gentlemanly enough to retrieve for her. The plane lurched again and she steadied herself on the nearby table, reminded that she still had an entire bottle of vodka. The young woman took another shot, ironically shivering at the warmth it sent through her body. Next up were her shoes which she sat back down next to Wolfgang to put on. The jet dropped and landed, smoother than what she was used to, but the sound and shaking were similar enough. Soon enough the jet slowed to a stroll, turning and moving until finally it reached the designated area for all two of its occupants to depart. In that moment, the young woman turned to him, her hair still messy and her dress all disheveled.

"Ready?" Franchesca asked, though she already stood up with his hand laced firmly with hers.

Wolfgang dressed. His shirt and trousers were slid on and buttoned, his coat pulled over top. He managed to tame his hair at least a little bit, though he couldn't do much about the rumple in his collar. He looked devilishly disheveled, though who was going to be offended? The likelihood of anyone noticing either of them was low, and he didn't care, even if someone did.

When the plane was brought to a park, Wolfgang stood and found his legs again, though his balance shifted uncomfortably a few times. "I've never been less ready to get off a plane," he admitted. "Normally, I'm scratching at the door for them to let me out." He supposed he found something slightly better at preventing an anxiety attack than alcohol. Only problem being that it required Franchesca to be with him.

Their hands laced up together, he glanced to make sure they hadn't left anything behind. "Ready, yes. We should have a car waiting for us outside to take us to the hotel."

"Good, because I am in no way, shape, or form capable of going through the rest of the airport to find a taxi." Franchesca noted with a small smile. The way that they appeared and the way she couldn't help but have her shoulder brush against his with each step... well it was no secret what they had done. Franchesca and Wolfgang made their way through the cabin and towards the exit when the small cabin crew made it very apparent they had thought the same thing.

The pilot, along with the stewardess from earlier, appeared out of nowhere with a bottle of expensive champagne in their hands. Franchesca's eyes widened as she turned to face Wolfie and then back. The male of the duo laughing heartily at her confused expression.

"Just a little fun thing we do when our passengers hit that important milestone." The pilot, an older Italian man, roared with such vigor and a wink that Franchesca could not help but grow red in the cheeks. The attendant, as pleasant as ever, nodded and continued before extending the bottle in their direction."Congratulations! You two have officially joined the mile high club!"

Embarrassment, levity, love. Franchesca found herself feeling a great deal of things as she turned and alongside Wolfgang and their newly acquired champagne bottle, stepped out into Germany. As Wolfgang had said a small black car waited for them at the end of the staircase. She gave his hand another squeeze, the excitement at the prospect of a new country with Wolfgang coming back to her in bulk.

"To you, me and Germany." Franchesca repeated with a breath before taking the first step to a wonderful, wonderful weekend.​

 

[Nav]

To you, me, and Germany.

Wolfgang said nothing, though his facial expressions, transitioning from shock to amusement, said more for him than words ever could have. He resigned to the situation with a sheepish smirk, taking the bottle of champagne and nodding in thanks to the pair offering their congratulations. Their first time making love, and it happened to be a mile into the air… what a cherry to top the oddness that was their relationship.

He descended the stairs leading on to the tarmac a step behind Franchesca, pleased that the glossy black car was there, already waiting. The chauffer, in a polished black suit and a white tie, complete with matching white gloves, was standing with the back door already open for them. He greeted in German, smiling below his thick grey mustache as he ushered them both into the back of the car, either not noticing, or not caring, about their slightly disheveled state. Wolfgang stepped aside to allow Franchesca to enter first, but quickly followed her in. Their bags were loaded by the airplane personnel and the driver shut the door behind them, scurrying around the front of the car and sliding into the driver's side.

As the car traveled along the airport service road, turning on to the turnpike, Wolfgang listened to the quiet radio playing over the speakers, his smile turning more and more earnest the more German he heard. The German was slightly different from the Austrian version he was used to, but it did feel good to hear it again. Though many languages were spoken on the school campus, only a very select few students could speak German, and they often chose not to. It'd been a long time since he heard it, and even longer since he had the chance to truly speak it, more than just a line or two.

"That was… the most interesting flight to Germany, to anywhere, I think I've ever had," he admitted, his hand still tangled up with hers, resting on her knee. "I'm looking forward to this weekend," and he meant it. Not just for the hotel bed, or to have relations with Franchesca… but to be with her, to chat, and talk, and laugh, because he genuinely enjoyed her presence, both with and without clothing. He was eager to see her in a beautiful, expensive dress, and more excited to help her slip out of it at the end of the night.

"Have you ever wondered what you got put on the earth for?" he asked. "What your purpose in the grand scheme of things is?"​

 

[Bears]

Franchesca held Wolfgang's hand in hers and her dress down with the other. A wind colder than what she was used to blew that night and while it was enough to make the hairs on her arms tingle and come to a stand, Wolfgang's presence alone made it bearable. Like plenty of occasions before Franchesca leaned against him, the only difference this time being she could now think of him as her lover without any reservation. The jet may have landed and they may have descended down the stairs but as far as Franchesca was concerned she was still above and beyond the clouds.

Franchesca watched with a quiet smile as the driver and Wolfgang exchanged pleasantries, obliging as he motioned for the back of the car, and obliging once again as her lover signaled for her to enter first. For the first time since they had taken a pause to put back on their clothes, she parted from him but just like before it did not last long. He stepped in, the door closed and she resumed leaning against him, her head of windswept black hair resting against his shoulder.

Her eyes closed slowly, senses once again enveloped by Wolfgang. The radio blurred into the background when it came to his breathing, his scent filled her nose, and once she nuzzled lightly against his jaw she could feel the makings of a returning stubble she had somehow missed before. Suddenly, his hand came to hers, and pressed its warmth against her knee. Franchesca acknowledged his words with a small smile, content to just listen to him speak.

His next question was too intriguing however, to not give him an answer. Franchesca looked up, the vision of him coming in flashes with every streetlight they passed. Her smile grew larger, eyes flickering between the details of his face while she thought of an answer. A moment later she nodded.

"All the time if I'm being completely honest." Franchesca admitted solemnly but perking up a moment later. She stopped her lean and sat up straighter but remained close to him all the while. The look on her face was like that of a curious cat. "Why do you ask?"​

 

[Nav]

As they drove below perfectly spaced streetlights, shadows swirled around the interior of the car, illuminating one moment something that had been cast in shadow just before. Bars of shadow passed over his face in a circular motion on constant repeat. The streets, being mostly empty, allowed them to drive in peace. The white noise of the radio crackled and Wolfgang kept one ear on it, the other listening to the roaring of rubber tires against the pavement. With his hand rested on Franchesca's knee, he was perfectly content—suspended somewhere between the familiarity of his past, the German, and the excitement of his future, in Franchesca.

The weight of her head nestled against the crook of his shoulder and neck, and every so often, he'd turn his head and mumble something quietly in German to her, against her hair, and always punctuate it with a kiss to her head. She wouldn't know what he was saying and even if she spoke German, he wasn't speaking loudly or clearly enough to be understood. The smell of her shampoo, sweet and like artificial strawberry, was familiar against the strong stench of leather interior and car wax.

She hardly moved, so when she did, he had to lift his head and shake it ever-so slightly in surprise. The question had been more rhetorical than anything, but once she gave an answer, he was glad she was. Her shadow melted and transformed in the ever-moving shadows and beams of lights, and he smiled in response. "I don't know," he admitted. He thought about the question frequently, what was his purpose in this life, but he wasn't sure what spurred him to state it out loud to her in that moment, as opposed to others. "I think about it often. And I often ask myself what greater purpose so I serve walking this Earth? Why am I who I am, and not someone else? What do my special combination of talents and weaknesses serve? It's enough to drive a man to madness."

His hand gave the ball of her knee a little squeeze, his smile turning a bit more playful. "I believe fervently we're all put on this planet for a purpose, and each soul a different purpose than all the others. I think part of my purpose is to watch and help you grow, as a human being, an artist, but I still have yet to figure out the rest."

The German countryside, as lovely as it was, became overrun with the old, brick and stone buildings of the city. The roads turned to cobblestone, sending the cabbie bouncing a bit as it rolled towards their destination. The streets were similar to those in Italy, narrow and surrounded by tall, ancient buildings, which sprung up long before the invention of the car, and would likely be there long after such things were done away with.

The hotel, then, sat oddly on the corner of a street. Its glass and steel exterior juxtaposed harshly against the old brick of the buildings surrounding it. Lights beamed through from its windows, as it crawled up into the sky and stood taller than everything around it. 'Hyatt' sat across its front canopy in large, lit-up letters.

The cab drove up under the drop-off point and quickly got out. He opened the back door for them, before going to the boot to put their luggage on a cart.

Wolfgang slid from the back seat and turned, holding his hand out for Franchesca. "Let's go settle in for the night, shall we? We have quite the weekend ahead of us." And it was already late on Friday night, as it was.​

 

[Bears]

Wolfgang had just admitted to feeling like she was a part of why he existed, that she was tied in some way to what he was meant to do in life, and Franchesca found herself lost for words. The young woman was lucky that the way the conversation turned, it made it so an immediate reply wasn't necessary, and so she just acknowledged the sweetness of his words with a matching smile.

Franchesca leaned back into the seat and then leaned back onto Wolfgang. She closed her eyes and whispered thank you in Italian into the curve of his shoulder. Franchesca knew how she felt, but putting it to words was a lot more difficult. In a lot of ways her sentiments were quite similar... They had fallen into each other in one of the most unexpected ways, and in the past two weeks he had come to mean so many different things to her. In the past two weeks she had come to feel like she had known him for years.

They were kindred spirits and dare she say it--soulmates... but how was she supposed to put that into words?

Franchesca wrapped her arm in his, taking up a stance like the very first time they had touched intimately, and opened her eyes to watch the foreign but beautiful countryside flash past them in a moonlit blur. She watched quietly until trees turned into buildings, until large highways turned into narrow winding streets. They approached the hotel and Franchesca leaned forward to try and get a better view of it.

Naturally, the Hyatt was quite different than the Tregua. What it lacked for homely charm and warmth, it made up for it with absolute prestige and glamour. It was crafted of the same material as the buildings that surrounded it but that's where the similarities stopped. It was nearly imposing the way it towered over them, a beacon made of a series of lights, and like the jet it made Franchesca feel like it was all beyond her.

There was a part of her that romanticized the idea of a struggling artist and a part of her who romanticized a struggling artist finding success. It was what made her idolize Wolfgang before she came to love him for his soul and she couldn't help but wonder if her own artwork was capable of achieving this kind of life he was showing her. Was she actually talented enough to attend her own galleries? Was he actually talented enough to live up to the potential he saw in her?

It was a little daunting and Franchesca was only snapped out of such thoughts by the car coming to a stop.

Franchesca turned to see Wolfgang's hand extended out towards her and she took it, stepping out into the cold and back again towards her lover's warmth. A moment later they made their way through the grand front doors, two workers dressed in sharp uniforms greeting them good evening before they stepped onto the marble floor. Her eyes were drawn upwards towards gorgeous chandeliers and soon enough, she looked back down to be greeted by the face of reception. The blonde behind the desk smiled widely at the both of them but Franchesca remained looking a little stunned.

"Good evening, welcome to the Hyatt! We were informed that the two of you would be arriving." She began with a practiced amount of niceness and a strong German accent. The receptionist paused to slip a paper out under the desk and present it to the both of them. Her manicured finger nailed pointed out an empty line on the bottom right. "If you can just sign there, Mr and Mrs Reiter, I'll be more than happy to hand you the key to your suite."​

 

[Nav]

Few things in life still surprised Wolfgang, especially since taking up university age students. They did plenty of things that would have surprised most, but he'd grown accustomed to the shenanigans of life around him. So, when they stepped up to the front desk, greeted by a woman with a pretty, heavily made, face and a thick German accent, he couldn't hide the shock registering on his face enough upon hearing what she had to say. Mr and Mrs Reiter. Oh, Dandelion was damn lucky he wasn't nearby, for Wolfgang would have turned on him like an enraged panther. He knew it was not a simple mistake or misunderstanding, so much as Dandelion pushing his agenda on them.

His mind washed blank with confusion, like his brain cogs couldn't turn fast enough to take in the information. He knew exactly what Dandelion was attempting to do, and he wasn't sure what to say about it. It's time for you to get over Emma, Wolf,' he'd say, marry a nice girl. Settle down, have a kid. Though Dandelion himself vowed never to wed, he always held a specific interest in seeing Wolfgang get married, and took every opportunity he could to coax Wolfgang down the aisle.

Every muscle in his body just froze before an amused smile crept on to his face. It would have been the logical thing for anyone to do to correct the mistake, but Wolfgang simply stretched out his hand to take the pen from her, replying 'of course,' in German, and going to sign the document. "Thank you," he said, returning to English as he slid the signed paperwork back over the desk in exchange for a set of room keys. The woman quickly explained where their room would be, and how to get there, and again, Wolfgang thanked her.

"Mrs Reiter," he said, glancing to Franchesca still at his side. He slid one of the swipe cards free and held it out to her as he walked languidly towards the lifts. "It seems our room is near the top floor. My, Dandelion is more schisty than I first thought." When Dandelion first reached out to book the rooms, Wolfgang had instructed two rooms—one for him, the other for him—as, at the time, they hadn't been anything more than professor and student. He was glad in that regard that Dandelion hadn't listened, for it would have been a waste of a room, but he still intended to give his old mentor some flack.

Calling the lift, he waited, he stared up at the numbers as they lit up, one by one, on the descent. "I apologize, I hope that didn't offend you. Dandelion has… very strong feelings about certain things, and me being married happens to be one of them, consequently."

He'd only ever proposed to Emma because Dandelion pushed him into it; he had never wanted to get married before then. "I give you permission to smack him."​

 

[Bears]

Franchesca was already a little stunned but hearing that sequence of words in that exact order was enough to really drive the nail into the whole situation. She did not turn to face Wolfgang fully, instead only her eyes drifting to watch his reaction from the side. He froze and so did her heart but the oh so familiar familiars flooded her at his smile. Her face burned red at the situation and Franchesca looked down at her heels in an effort to try and calm the warmth.

"Thank you." Franchesca repeated as she looked up, smiling with cheeks flushed with color as her eyes landed on the black ink again before Wolfgang returned it to the receptionist. Mr. and Mrs. Reiter. Before, Franchesca always thought that she would retain her last name after marriage but now, with the man beside her and the way that phrase repeated in her mind, well... Rossi-Reiter didn't sound that bad at all.

Franchesca wasn't really listening as the blonde relayed information regarding their room, she couldn't and knew full and well Wolfgang was capable of keeping them from getting lost. Her eyes drifted back downwards and she bit the bottom of her lips as a certain sort of bashfulness took her at the thought of being Mrs. Reiter for their time in Germany. Her gaze only returned upwards when Wolfgang called her that himself and she turned to throw a wide smile at the man who she walked beside.

"Thank you, Mr. Reiter." Franchesca teased, swiping her copy of the key card with a wide and fast curve. Laughter escaped her and wearily she ran a hand through all the black tresses of her hair. Her eyes moved from her lover to the the elevators at the mentioning of a top floor. Franchesca never stayed anywhere remotely close to the top floor of anything... unless you count the Tregua anyways. Her hands fumbled haplessly with the card as the doors of the lift slid open.

Franchesca's hands moved behind her and clasped together with the card between them as they entered and her fingers began to play with the item some more as Wolfgang called for the 47th floor. The lift paused, and then rose and Franchesca watched alongside him as the numbers lit up one by one. "Now I thought Dandelion to have all sorts of weird desires but you marrying was never one of them." Franchesca grinned following his apology, shaking her head a second later. "No need to apologize. It didn't bother me just... surprised me a little, that's all."

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open, revealing a lavishly decorated and carpeted receiving area connected to two large equally fancy hallways. Franchesca's hands broke free from the hotel card and slipped into his. "Permission noted." She told him, her grin growing as she stepped out and closer to their room with him. Franchesca took one look at the gold plated signs before leading her lover down the right. She only stopped when they came to the gold plated number 1457 next to a pair of double doors. Franchesca never stayed in a hotel that required two doors to enter a room, either.

"Now we'll talk to your mentor later, but for now..." Franchesca turned back to him and gave him a soft kiss on the nose. "Let's see where Mr. and Mrs. Reiter will be spending their honeymoon."​

 

[Nav]

"Mmmhm," he answered her remark as they stepped in and he called the floor they were on. The lift was, by no means, fast moving. It leisurely climbed up the shaft without so much as a concern for the rush of its occupants. Not that Wolfgang was in any rush himself, but it was nearly midnight local time, and he was fast growing tired. They'd have quite the day tomorrow, with Franchesca whisked out early to shop, Wolfgang was sure to spend breakfast and lunch with old acquaintances. Then, the opening ceremony in the evening, with dinner, followed by another long night of festivities and celebrations.

The libations would flow and the inhibitions would be lose; they always were at these sorts of events.

The lights continued to ding, one by one, as they rose until they finally reached their floor and the door separated. Franchesca's hand slid into his and his fingers curled around hers, occupying the warmth. "I don't know what caused him to feel so passionately about my relationship status, but he has been for quite some time." Maybe because it would be so easy for Wolfgang Reiter to live and die alone if he let himself. He was not an overly social creature and even when around others, he tended to be a little coarse and unforgiving in conversation, as Franchesca learned on their first interaction. It was likely for that reason alone Dandelion wanted to ensure such a terrible fate never befell his mentee.

Stepping into the hall, Wolfgang breathed deep. It smelled foreign, and like Pinesol, but he was glad to be away from his home for once. He adored his dwelling, but he couldn't fight the swelling sense of joy building in his chest. He couldn't care less about the gallery opening, but to hear those teasing words slip from Franchesca's mouth? His next exhalation was shaky between his lips as his heartrate spiked.

The kiss to his nose caused it to crinkle, though there was a smile behind it. The wrinkle followed him all the way to the door, where he slid the keycard in and the lock clicked open. His free hand depressed the handle and pushed it in. The door swung open and Wolfgang stepped aside to allow Franchesca, excuse him, Mrs Reiter, to enter first, and he followed.

"The honeymoon suite," he teased, flicking on the light. The room was blue with beautiful murals on the wall, hand painted by someone who knew what they were doing well enough—they could have come from the hand of one of his seniors at the university. The colours were like nothing else: vibrant, strong. No washed out blues and insipid baby colours. There was a desk, two lounge chairs, a vanity with a mirror, and a single four post bed with hand-worked comforter, chocolates on the pillows. Their luggage sat on a dolly in the center, already brought up for them.

"Is it to your liking?" he asked, sliding his hand free of hers so he could flop down on the bed, sprawling his hands above his head. "You should definitely try out this mattress before you decide."

The mattress was more cloud that spring and fabric. His body melted into it, the warmth enveloping him whole.​