Andrew knocked on the doorframe of Maxwell's office, pushing the door open more than the small crack he'd had open since he'd stepped into the office to work. Julies on his chest made a small gurgling, happy noise and Andrew glanced down at him and smiled before he looked up at his husband.
The room hadn't changed much in the ten years since Maxwell had set it up. The desk was an old, sturdy thing, still able to hold Maxwell's weight even after all of this time. Maybe the books had rotated and multiplied, or Maxwell's chair changed to one that would support him better, but it still felt like the warm space that Maxwell had curated when they first moved into this house.
