A/N:I was thinking about Noir films when it came to mind. Call it an experiment, it's also AU.
Noir
The cigarette smoke shines a dusty blue in the light that the sign that hanging over the bar provides. It is late and the only people out at this time are the people whose home and dreams are even darker than the streets.
She has always loved the bar, she remembers back when she was younger and her mother would let sit while she finished her set. She misses her mother's voice, mysterious and full of tears, husky and soulful. She doesn't sing like her mother, she doesn't sing at all, not anymore. He always tells her she has a good voice the few times she has let him hear it, but she shies the compliments away.
Samantha is on stage now. Her voice is sweet and melodic, still there's an undercurrent of hurt hidden in it too. With her golden hair and blue eyes many of the men call her "Angel". But she's an angel with scars. They're friends, they met through him.
She's waiting for him now. He's always late. Buried in old books that make his eyes water because of all the dust they gather. With his books he forgets there is a world outside his messy apartment. Forgets that there is a world where she lives, or not lives, depending on the day.
Downing her drink she wonders how long she'll have to wait tonight. Last time Jack had almost closed before he had shown up.
He doesn't like the bar, at least at night; during the day he comes by it all the time to sit and eat and talk to Jack or TC. He likes to talk and she loves his voice. He can talk forever and she likes listening to him in bed, his chest vibrates with each word and she knows he's alive. She knows she's alive with him.
Just as Sam finishes her song she hears the door open. It's raining outside and the raindrops shine blue on his skin. He looks otherworldly to her. He walks over to her and places his hand on her cheek- it's a move they've always done, forever, unending; she turns her head and kisses his wrist. She stands and he wraps his arm around her slim waist and kisses her. He tastes like cigarettes, coffee, scotch, and rain. After the kiss she licks her lips to taste him again and lets him take her home. It's almost sunrise, pre-dawn, and the streets blush blue.
She'll sleep all day, naked and wrapped in his crisp white sheets. She'll wake up at sunset. He'll be sitting at his desk writing his next paper or novella, there'll be a smudged glass of scotch, shining amber in the sunlight that flitters through the blinds, and mug of cold coffee next to him. She'll get up and change and then walk back to the bar to once again hear Samantha sing on the stage that she used to play on, but will never sing on. She'll sit and watch and drink and smoke. She'll sit and wait for him to take her home.