Author's Note: Tumblr had a lovely discussion today about Jean and Lucien rehearsing for one of her plays and the things that might happen and I wanted to put my little spin on it. Enjoy!
Didn't Mind
Jean sat in the parlor, staring intently at the script in her hand, periodically shutting her eyes tight and mouthing words silently. She was so focused that she didn't even notice Lucien emerge from his study and stand in the doorway for several minutes.
Eventually, he decided to interrupt. "Jean?"
She jumped. "Oh goodness!"
"I didn't mean to startle you," he apologized.
"No, it's quite alright. What time is it? Would you like some lunch?" she babbled, standing up and putting her script aside, embarrassed at getting so engrossed in what she was doing.
Lucien came over to stop her harried movements, putting a gentle hand on her arm. "Never mind that, what are you working on here?" he asked with genuine interest.
"I've been cast in A Midsummer Night's Dream as the fairy queen Titania. It isn't a large role, but it's much better than most I've gotten before. And I'm having a devil of a time with Shakespeare. The words are so precise and I keep tripping over them, especially with so many," she lamented. "Susan Tyneman can spend three hours memorizing in between dress fittings and hair appointments. I, however, have an actual job. The director is going to recast me if I can't get off book soon, though."
"They won't recast you. You'll make a wonderful fairy queen. And I'll help you learn your lines. I'm sure you're brilliant and you don't even know it," he told her encouragingly.
"You don't have to do that, Lucien. Don't you have patients today?"
"Agnes Clasby isn't due for quite a while. And the fact that you don't know that is just more proof that you're clearly worried about the play, and we can't have that." He sat down on the sofa and gestured for her to join him. "Come on, then. What scene are we working on?"
She handed him her script. "I was going over one of the longer passages. Act three, scene one. About halfway through there, I'm to wake up see Nick Bottom."
"Ah yes, of course." Lucien vaguely recalled what happened in this scene and found it on the page. "I'll play Bottom, then, shall I? Let's see…" It took him a moment to orient himself.
"Let's start from my line there. 950." She began, "What angel wakes me from my flowery bed?"
"The finch, the sparrow and the lark…" Lucien said before Jean interrupted.
"That's supposed to be a song," she informed him.
He looked up at her. "Shall I sing?"
She smirked. "Yes, I rather think you should."
Lucien picked a tune out of the air and sang through the silly words. "The finch, the sparrow and the lark, The plain-song cuckoo gray, Whose note full many a man doth mark, And dares not answer nay; - for, indeed, who would set his wit to so foolish a bird? who would give a bird the lie, though he cry 'cuckoo' never so?"
Jean came in with her lines. "I pray thee, gentle mortal, sing again: Mine ear is much enamour'd of thy note; So is mine eye enthralled to thy shape; And they fair virtue's force perforce doth move me On the first view to say, to swear, I love thee."
Lucien stared at Jean as she recited the Shakespeare. The way her mouth moved around the antiquated syllables. The modulation of her voice, so melodic with the rhythm of the words. The intensity of her eyes as she struggled to remember the exact language. Lucien unconsciously leaned closer and closer to her, like a magnet pull, a moth to a flame.
Jean saw him lean in towards her. Her initial instinct was to back away; he often invaded personal space, unaware of the impropriety. But this was different. He was moving slowly and smoothly, lacking all the quick, jerky movements that often startled her. Jean found herself allowing his advance, welcoming it. Even though it was Lucien's turn to speak and recite Bottom's line, she didn't bother to tell him.
The script sat forgotten on Lucien's lap. His eyes locked with hers. Their lips were mere inches apart. Jean's eyes closed in anticipation, the sharp intake of breath an indication of her readiness and willingness.
A loud knock came at the door, causing Jean's eyes to snap open. Lucien had paused just where he was. Neither of them moved.
"That'll be Agnes," Jean whispered.
"No, she's not due till later," Lucien disagreed.
"Perhaps you've mistaken the time."
"That is a more likely possibility," he conceded
They both smiled softly, still improperly close to one another. Another knock came at the door, more insistent this time.
Lucien sighed and finally moved away from her. "Yes, that'll be Agnes." He stood, putting the script on the sofa, and went to attend to his needy patient.
Jean was left alone in the parlor, stunned at her own behavior. Such a lack of decorum wasn't like her. And that wasn't even a properly romantic scene they'd rehearsed! Fairy Queen Titania being magically tricked to fall in love with Nick Bottom, the man with the head of a donkey, was the biggest comedic scene in the whole play. But something about it had drawn Lucien to her, and she had been eager to receive him. Thank goodness for Agnes interrupting.
Later in the afternoon, Jean was hard at work on dinner in the kitchen. Lucien had sent Agnes home with a new prescription and had finished updating his files. He went to find Jean, knowing he needed to apologize.
"What are we having for dinner?" he asked, hoping to relax them both with a bit of easy conversation.
"Lasagna. It's a new recipe I've been meaning to try," she replied, not taking her eyes off the ricotta cheese mixture she was stirring.
He frowned, distracted by this information. "What all is in it? That can't have been easy to shop for in Ballarat."
"We're more cultured here than you'd like to believe," she sassed. "Besides, I got the recipe from a maid I know at the Colonists' Club. Apparently it's their most popular dish in the kitchen at the moment. All the shops are stocking the ingredients"
Lucien did not miss the fact that she still refused to make eye contact with him, instead keeping her gaze fixed on her mixing bowl. He placed his hand on her shoulder. "Jean."
She finally did turn, putting the bowl down and brushing away an errant curl of hair from her face. "Yes, Lucien?"
"I need to apologize for what happened earlier. I wasn't thinking and I know I overstepped," he said awkwardly.
But Jean just shook her head. "No, I didn't mind."
"Well I know Agnes interrupted before anything really happened, but I know what I was probably about to do, and I know that isn't what you want."
Her eyebrows flew halfway up her forehead at his words. She regained composure almost instantly and tried to suppress her wide smile. "Lucien, I didn't mind." Jean put her hand on his forearm for a moment, matching the insistence of her tone.
He stared at her, trying to understand her meaning. Did she mean…no, she couldn't possibly…but if she did… "Right then," he said at last, unable to find anything better.
Jean gave a curt nod and turned back to her cooking.
Lucien swallowed hard before the full weight of her words settled in his chest, causing him to grin wildly. "So, lasagna, is it?"
"Yes," she confirmed. "And I do hope you like it, after all the trouble I'm going to for it."
"You didn't need to on my account."
"I can't keep feeding you the same four things for dinner all the time!"
"You can do anything you like, and I'll be happy," he said with a shrug.
Jean didn't say anything. She just smiled as she layered the noodles, ricotta mixture, and tomato sauce into the baking pan.