This is my first try at a one-shot. All mistakes are mine and english is not my first language, so be kind.
This is just something I couldn't get out of my mind so I hope you'll enjoy it.
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Andrew Marlowe and abc.
She never really understood what was so fascinating about her doing paperwork that he couldn't do anything else but stare at her. In fact, as she often told him, she found it kind of creepy. She didn't mind the attention that much and before they were together, she thought it was pretty flattering. It's just… his eyes… no, it was still a little bit creepy.
However, in this particular moment, she found herself indulging to that habit that had become of Rick's. She was staying at the loft all week, partly because he begged her with his puppy-dog eyes she simply couldn't resist to, partly because there was a gas leak in her building and she had nowhere else to go.
She had never seen him work before. Sure, she had gone to some of his book signing and attended some of his parties and saw him in his environment, being his usual charming self and a little bit of an ass. But when he was writing, it was a whole other thing.
She always made fun of him for his short attention span. He couldn't focus on one thing more than a few minutes. Except when they were in bed and he did those… No, no, she couldn't go there or else, she'd just drag him back to bed and they had agreed they would actually do something productive today because they had spent her last two days off in between the sheets.
Where was she? Right. Writing.
When he was writing, he was in his own world, completely disconnected from reality. She could undress herself in front of him and he wouldn't even see her. He only had eyes for the words and sentences he created, the beautiful poesy of his mind, the stories he was telling.
Seeing his hand fly over the keyboard so fast, almost like he was scared if didn't type it fast enough, the ideas would vanish… Maybe it was fascinating. So What? The passion he put in every one of his stories, the frenzy that possessed him when he was suddenly inspired, it never ceased to amaze her.
And then, whenever he got blocked, his body would still, his eyebrow would knit into one line and he would stare blankly at his computer as if the right turn of phrase would suddenly pop out of it or give him the answers he was looking for. If inspiration still didn't come, he would frown, run his beautiful hands through his already mussed up brown abundant hair and looking even cuter, lightly tapping the desk. Then an idea would strike him and the race between his fingers and brain would start again.
At some point she would become jealous of the attention he gave to her alter ego, cave in despite her resolve to not disturb him and she would close his laptop, crawl into his lap and kiss him tenderly before seductively whisper in his ear " Let's go to bed, love".
So what do you think? Reviews?