Notes – The story outline for this was provided by Crazyhattrick, so full credit to her. Set sometime after Spectre's Flute, but not particularly with any spoilers. I'm… not very good at writing mature stuff, so please be patient with me, guys.

Some lecturers returned from a long day of attempting to educate their class feeling mentally drained and in need of a stiff drink. Layton was not one of these lecturers. He was the sort who enjoyed every minute of helping students to learn as much as they could about the field of archaeology. His cheery attitude towards education was almost unbreakable.

Almost.

The fact remained that the day of the final exam was drawing ever closer and with it his class was working themselves up into a frenzy. While Layton had no doubt in his mind that they would pass, getting them to see that was the hard part. And perhaps one day of dealing with difficult students didn't get to him so much, but several weeks of it was draining even on his positive outlook.

He was most definitely exhausted when he returned to his office after the final lecture of that afternoon. And, in all honesty, he was looking forward to a good cup of tea. With which he could settle down and review the material he'd covered with the class for their upcoming exam.

What he hadn't been expecting was Emmy.

Actually, that statement was incorrect. Emmy was his assistant, hired by the university to help him with tasks that he'd unfortunately proven absent-minded about doing – like attending staff meetings. So in all fairness, he had every reason to expect her to be there.

The part that he hadn't been expecting was the lingerie. It was lacy and deep red, contrasting not in an unpleasant way with the light tone of her skin and highlighting curves that he'd failed to notice before. And for all his attention was drawn to the underwear, Layton also really couldn't stop himself from realising that he hadn't seen this much of a lady's exposed body in… well, in a long time.

The worst part was that Emmy seemed to be acting as if this wasn't anything out of the ordinary, casually sorting through the papers on Layton's desk.

"E-emmy! S-so sorry to have walked in on you!" Layton heard himself say.

"Why should you be sorry, Professor?" Emmy asked, leaning on her elbows. Layton tried not to pay too much attention to the way the lingerie moved with the shift in her body weight, causing a bit more of her… her bosom to be on show than before.

"B-because you are clearly waiting for someone and I've walked in on you!" he squeaked.

"Don't be silly, Professor. Who else could I possibly be waiting for in your office?" she replied, still staring a little too deeply into his eyes.

Do not say Dean Delmona. Whatever you do, do not say Dean Delmona, was what Layton's brain was begging him.

"I… I have n-no idea who…" he managed.

Emmy got up from where she'd been leaning, casually walking over to Layton in a way that made him want to run like a frightened vole, but in truth had him pinned to the spot. Once she was standing in front of him, Emmy reached up a hand and poked the tip of his nose.

"I've been waiting for you," she chimed.

"D-dressed like th-that…?" he whimpered.

"Do you not like it?" Emmy's lip was drawn into a very professional pout. It was the sort of expression he'd never seen her use before, and in most other circumstances would find quite childish, but right now he felt there was a strange sort of appeal to it.

The last thing that he wanted to do, however, was upset or offend her.

"Well, I-I think you look most… most appealing in it, but I doubt that they're… um, the correct sort of clothing to be wearing at work," Layton carefully replied.

"But there isn't a uniform for university, Professor," she reminded.

"Still, the… the basic outline is to wear something… s-smart," he tried.

Moving herself a little further into the too-close-for-comfort zone, almost pressing against him now, Emmy argued, "This is the smartest outfit that I have to deal with this particular matter."

"And what matter would that be?" Layton enquired, keeping eye-contact with her, so that he could very definitely resist the urge to look down.

"The matter that you've been very stressed lately, most unlike yourself. Everyone agrees that you need to relax," she purred.

He could definitely feel that two… very female components were being pressed up against his chest now, regardless of if he was looking at them or not.

"I can assure th-that I relax in a, well, quite different method t-to the one you're… implying," Layton said.

"Everyone can do with trying something new from time to time. I'm sure you'll find that you'll like it," she replied.

With that comment, Layton realised that he'd backed himself up to the door unknowingly. He could feel the handle pressing up against his back, as a symbol that this was the end of the line for his escape route.

Let's look at this rationally, he told himself. Emmy is your assistant, she's a very kind and, um, usually quite reasonable young woman. She was also admittedly quite attractive, but he'd never seen himself in a position to give a lot of attention to that matter before. She was definitely someone he trusted greatly, though prior to this moment he'd not considered that she might have any sort of romantic feelings for him. Layton wished that she could have chosen a less direct way to let these feelings known. Unless, on the other hand, she had taken a more subtle approach in the past and he just hadn't noticed it, leaving her with no other choice but to… to stand in his office dressed like a ladies underwear model. For all he was good with reading people, these sorts of emotions tended to be a bit lost on him.

So he had two options, since he didn't regard running from the room as something he should consider, as a gentleman. The first was that he could politely tell her that he doesn't feel this sort of behaviour is appropriate for the workplace and that she should stop this at once. Thus risking upsetting her, potentially losing both a good assistant and someone he cared for a lot. While the second was that he could actually maybe go along with this and… just maybe he'd enjoy it.

His mind was telling him to go with the first option, his heart was telling him that it was shameful to even consider hurting Emmy's feelings like this, and a… well, another part of his body that he normally didn't let get involved with internal discussions wanted to have it's say. And that say was that he should go for it.

"I…" he murmured.

"Are you all right, Professor? You've been looking a little out of it for the past minute," Emmy whispered, still pressed up against him.

"S-sorry, I'm just trying to… to make the best choice," he replied, not wanting to be anything other than honest with her.

She chuckled; "Perhaps you should let your famous intuition decide for you."

"My intuition is being rather… influenced right now," Layton said.

"I can tell."

"Did I say you could put your hand there, young lady!"

"Young lady?"

"W-well…"

Emmy retracted said hand, giggling at him. Her laughter put him at ease. He could trust it. Here wasn't someone who was trying to hurt him; she was just having a bit of fun. In that sense she was sort of like…

…No. He couldn't think of Claire just now. That would be disrespectful.

"Professor, usually I'd be willing to take a hint by now, but I can very plainly see that you're interested," Emmy cut in.

His hands automatically moved to cover himself.

"Well, I never!" he huffed.

"Really? You've really never? I would have thought at least a few would have been after you by now," Emmy teased.

"I'll have you know that- …never mind," he finished, lamely.

"No, do go on. What will you have me know, Professor?" Emmy insisted.

"That…" Well, might as well give in to it, "…That a true gentleman never refuses the request of a beautiful lady."

If he had been trying to catch Emmy off-guard, he certainly succeeded. The usually confident woman suddenly turned a slight shade of pink in the cheeks.

"You called me a…"

"A lady? Yes. I have done many times, Emmy, and do not plan to stop on doing so anytime soon," assured Layton.

"Would a lady really do this?" Emmy asked, smirking at him.

"A one who has to be about this direct just to get a stubborn man to realise that she likes him would do, yes?" replied Layton.

"I doubt that all ladies would act this way," she argued.

"Perhaps not, but you are a very individual lady indeed, and I would not change you," he concluded, placing an arm around her.

In that moment, perhaps it hadn't fully registered with him that her back was exposed. So suddenly he realised his hand was brushing against her soft skin. It was far from an unpleasant sensation.

"Is that an 'I'll consider it'?" Emmy checked, leaning into the touch.

Hooking his other arm around her behind and lifting her off the floor, Layton purred, "My dear, that was a yes."

The gesture had seemed rather romantic in his head, but in practise he should have taken the weight of a fully grown woman into more consideration before lifting her off the floor. Layton staggered back a little, before catching himself and carrying Emmy over to the desk, where he put her down gently. She wasn't willing to let go of him just yet though, pulling the Professor down on top of her.

"You're quite the charmer," she murmured.

"Modesty prevents me from commenting," He told her, climbing further onto the desk as Emmy attempted to tug his jacket from him, "Now are you sure that my desk is the most comfortable place to try this?"

"In your office? Yes. Because getting you to leave your office and actually go home is a task in itself," she reasoned.

"If I had… well, the proper motivation, I'd certainly go home more often," Layton answered, lowering one of the straps of her bra.

"With the proper motivation I might even be able to convince you to skip class," Emmy added.

Frowning playfully, Layton replied, "Do not be so absurd, my dear. I've never skipped a single day of class, either as a student or a teacher and I don't intend to start now."

Sighing, she concluded, "Those students are lucky to have such a devoted man as you to help them learn."

"For the moment, you have all of my devotion, Emmy," Layton whispered.

And for the next hour or so, Layton's devotion was certainly what she got. In return… well, perhaps her therapy to ease his stress was successful. Rather successful.

His class certainly noted that, for reasons unknown, their Professor was in a much better mood come the next day.

If only they could find something that would help them relax just as much.