"Unless you want to hear me swear my ass off," John grumbled good-naturedly, idly leaning towards that precarious stack to make sure it hadn't toppled, but-phew. Besides, Bobby had heard him vent steam about his dissertation before. "I think I'm coming to some kind of crunch point anyway. Still," he murmured, "I have been waiting for you to come home. We got an email reminder to the postgrad mailing list for international students who were gonna be late handing in their thesis, or whatever - they needed to extend their visas. And I thought of you."

John crooked his head a little to one side, and then shoved his book next to him, before tugging Bobby into his lap with a grunt. From the sound of it, that pile did get knocked over, but...oh, hell. Stuff happened. Tugging at Bobby's shirt, he slipped a hand up under it, to lay his fingers and palm flat against Bobby's taut stomach: "And you're not allowed to go anywhere."