Guitar Lessons by Rena
Rating, PG-13 for language
Pairing: Ed/Leighton (RPF)
Summary: On set, a conversation and the source of all jealousies.
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"I can imagine that you're quite inspired lately," she said and surprised him, making him jump slightly and turning to stare at her.
She smiled at the guitar in his hand. He was in an odd mood lately, ever since… well, all things work out for a reason.
"Why would you think that, eh?" he asked, inhaling some of his cigarette.
She shrugged her shoulders. "You guys seem pretty serious… that's good."
He ducks his head and smiles.
"What are you writing?" she asks and picks up the pad next to him he reaches forward and yanks it from her, stunning her.
"Wow…" she arched a brow. He usually liked to share whatever he wrote, sometimes too much annoying her on days she had little coffee.
"Sorry…" he mumbled, ripping the page out and folding it into his pocket. She watched him carefully. He was slightly pink. "It's just that… it's a surprise."
She tilted her head and smiled slightly. "For who? Jess? I won't tell."
He laughed a bit. "It's not…"
"Oh." She sat baffled for a minute. He'd been nothing if in love with her friend for a few months now. And he wasn't the type to truly play around despite his wandering eye.
"No, I mean – it's not like that, Leight. Just don't worry about it, ok?" he met her eye and he was pleading.
She slowly nodded. "Ok."
"Heard the cover is doing good," he inhaled a smoke and she nodded.
"Yeah. Thank you." She stated and grabbed the guitar from him and he watched her in amusement. She couldn't play to save her soul but she loved pretending she did.
"You're going to serenade me, are you?" he smirked and she smiled back.
"You know I can't play," she nodded.
"I'll have to teach you one day, can't be a proper musician without a nice guitar in your hands." He murmured and she watched as his jaw twitched while he smoked.
"You English and your rules," she teased him.
"You Americans and your need to break them," he responded back and this entire conversation made him wish he had a nice pint of bitter in his hands. But he didn't. "Here," and he guided her fingers to the strings. He hummed as he used her fingers to strike a chord.
She harmonized softly to the tune of the strings.
"Good," he nodded, encouraging her. "Good ear."
She smiled slightly. "How about Marry had a little lamb?"
He laughed. "I think not."
"Why not? It's compelling!" she joked.
"It's thrilling," he said and brought the cigarette to her mouth, her rosy lips opened and accepted them, inhaling the smoke and blowing out.
"You should quit," she recommended.
"So should you," he winked.
"Fuck you."
"Anytime," he murmured and she laughed, they laughed at one another.
"By the way I never really congratulated you, you know." He stated, looking away.
"I noticed." She nodded. "But thank you."
She handed over the guitar to him and it fell easily into his arms.
"Here… anyways the wedding won't be for some time… maybe years," she stated and played with the hair that fell loose over her forehead.
"That's a shame," he nodded, stringing a melody that she thought she'd heard before. "I wouldn't wait long to have a girl like you."
She blinked at him as he continued to play, his eyes never leaving hers. She felt short of breath, like she did when she became Blair and he became Chuck and it would be magical and epic.
"Honey why you calling me so late…" he murmured, the music going with his words.
Her eyes widened slightly. Last night, 3am, she was drunk and just wanted to say hello. That's all.
"It's kinda hard to talk right now…" he looked down slightly and continued. "… my girl's in the next room… sometimes I wish she was you." He nodded at her for her to continue.
"It's really good to hear your voice saying my name… It sounds so sweet…" she sang and he smiled at her, joining her. They were good together like this. They caught on to what the other was going to do.
"But girl you make it hard to be faithful…" he sang and her throat went dry and her eyes widened. "With the lips of an angel… Honey why are you calling me so late?"
They finished their little rendition, both straddling the bench, both facing one another, cigarette burning between them.
"I've had this song stuck in my head all day," he admitted and she nodded. It might be permanently imbedded into hers.
"I'm sorry I called so late last night," she blurted.
He smiled. "Don't be. You sounded like you were having a good time."
"I wasn't," she spit out. The partying was an attempt to forget the horrible review she received for her latest performance.
He stopped drumming on the guitar and looked on at her and then shifted, looking over her shoulder. Her back stiffened. She knew who was behind them.
"Hey baby," she stood up quickly and went to her boyfriend who was staring at them oddly. Oh right. He was her fiancé now. She had to remember that.
He was oddly stiff in her arms so when they went home that night and the argument started she wasn't surprised. She wasn't even surprised when she slammed the door to the bathroom and locked herself in.
"Baby… baby, open the door." He pleaded on the other end.
Her fingers still felt like strumming a guitar. She closed her eyes tightly.
"I know that nothing is going on, I know it – I just… you guys are just strange around one another and I get jealous. I do. I admit it. I'm a jerk." He was pleading.
They were strange around one another. That much was truth.
"And the fact that you two have been filming all week those scenes doesn't help, Leighton. They don't. I just wish… I wish you didn't get so into it."
She couldn't believe her ears. So she pressed her palms over them. She didn't get into their scenes. They were actors. Professional actors. They had a Chuck and Blair switch. It got turned on and off. And it was off. Off right now.
"Please forgive me, babe," his voice continued. And she did, she opened the bathroom door and let herself out. She let him envelop her in his arms and it was nice that he was taller. This always helped.
It was an hour later as Sebastian brushed his teeth that her phone rang and she quickly picked it up the moment she saw the ID.
"I'm pissed," he stated the moment he heard her voice.
"Why are you calling me?" she demanded, whispering, her eyes flickering to the door.
"Oh so you can call me but I can't chat with you?" he asked. He was as drunk as she'd ever heard him. And she'd seen him plenty drunk. He'd seen her plenty more.
"It's not a good time," she insisted.
"He's angry, isn't he? I would be," he continued.
"Stop. We'll talk tomorrow." She urged.
"We don't film tomorrow," he stated.
"Then maybe it's better," she said quickly, her heart beating. She had NOTHING to hide. She was doing nothing wrong.
"I've got to ask you a question." He murmured.
"Ask, hurry up."
He was silent and she wondered if he had fallen asleep. "What would you do… if I told you I didn't have a girlfriend anymore?"
Her throat was dry once more. "Did… d-did you two end it?"
She hadn't heard anything from her friend. "No. I'm just asking, it's a fucking theological question –"
"Theoretical." She corrected.
"Yes, that. What would you do?"
She took a deep breath and stared at the light under the door of her bathroom.
"Nothing." She said quickly.
He was quiet and then in his low wispy voice he ground out. "Liar."
She closed her phone, eyes wide as her boyfriend came back into the room.
"Who was it? It's late." He asked, slipping into bed. He smelled like Colgate.
"Jim." She turned off the lamp by her side of the bed.
"Yeah? How are things with him?"
"Complicated." She murmured.
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The end