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You stare at the professor in amazement, your chin resting on your palms as you watch his lithe hands grade papers with a swiftness you could never obtain.
“I like that you know stuff.” You murmur mindlessly, your eyes tracing the path of the red ink until the paper was stained with a 98%.
“Oh yeah?” Spencer asks with a tiny smile on his face, his focus still on the tests in front of him.
If he was going to be honest, you were supposed to be helping him grade said papers, seeing as though he had chosen you to be his teacher's assistant. It wasn't that you were dumb per se, just more… prone to distraction. He was pretty sure it was his fault if the heart eyes you were giving him was anything to go by.
Usually unwanted affection would make Spencer uncomfortable, but there was just something about you that piqued his interest.
You didn't throw yourself at him or flirt shamelessly. Of course you fawned over him and he pretended he didn't hear the soft whisper of your voice squealing about how handsome he looked in his suit combo – which was something Spencer had been kind of unsure about when he had put it on in the morning.
“Mm-hm.” You hummed. “I think it’s cool.” Spencer could almost laugh, but he didn’t, instead his bottom lips rolled between his teeth to hold back a large smile. “I teach seminars, I kind of have to know stuff.”
“Whatever,” You respond with a shrug. “You still know more than me.”
That stopped Spencer’s scribbling, the man’s eyes now fully settling on you. The movement was unexpected and it caused you to flinch slightly, your gaze that was once fiercely set on him fluttered in a way that signaled you were flustered.
“I’m going to have to disagree.” His voice was almost a whisper and your faces were a lean away. “Really?” You asked brainlessly, your tone almost breathless sounding. “Really. I think you’re the smartest girl I’ve ever met.” Your cheeks heat and your eyes fall on his beard that is growing darker and thicker with each passing day. Then, they trail towards his lips.
“I- I don’t know.” Your tense shoulders loosen and you pull away. “Hey, no, don’t do that.” He chides softly. Spencer leans his head down in an attempt to search for your eyes. “I swear that I’m not lying. I’ve seen some of the work you’ve done for other classes, and you are brilliant.”
“You promise?” You ask meekly. “Yeah,” He nods. “I promise.”
There was a beat, then two, then three, before Spencer found himself leaning down and gently brushing his lips against yours.
You freeze and for a moment he fears that he may have read the situation wrong, but then you press into him, your lips finally locking. It’s not hungry or urgent, just sweet and experimental, mouths moving unsurely to try to find a pace that’s right for the both of you.
Sure this was wrong, so very wrong, but if you ask Spencer there’s a lot of things wrong about his life, and for the first time since his imprisonment, this is the only thing that actually felt right.
Your hands shyly place themselves on his stubbled cheeks, his own hands reaching up to do the same. His thumbs paw at your cheeks when he tilts his head to side slightly, his tongue brushing your bottom lip asking you for entrance.
Your mouth opens up shyly and your tongues dance together languidly, and you pull away when a small moan bounces between you.
You both are breathing heavily – quietly – all the while still holding each other.
For the first time in a long time, Spencer doesn’t know what to do, but he knows he’ll figure it out.