AN- These one-shots are meant to be set sometime in Clockwork Angel, before anything romantic had come about between Tessa and Jem/Will. Nothing is happening at the Institute. Finally, don't judge! I know it's fluff, so if you don't like that, then don't read.

Enjoy!

Will sulked, sitting back against the dusty wall of the music room. Discordant notes filled the space, and he carefully watched Tessa's small form as her fingers stumbled over the keys. In front of her, he could see sheet music he had leant her. It was a beautiful piece, but the page was full of complicated patterns and Tessa could barely read music. Even though she had assured him that two years in the children's choir in New York had done the job, she was obviously struggling. Finally she smashed her hands on the keys in impatience, sending a waterfall of anger spiraling through the dusty air.

Will sighed and stood up, even though the whole point of him sitting against the wall was to do prevent exactly that. As he neared her, his heart gave an involuntary stutter, but he kept his expression clean of all emotion.

"Here," he said quietly, exhausted at holding himself back. He felt those wide, stormy gray eyes on him as he gently took her wrists and placed them so her fingers lined up with the right notes.

"You can play?" she asked curiously. He almost smiled. Tessa as always curious- if she was in a completely un eventful situation, she would still ask questions. "I mean, I thought the music was from Jem."

"Yes. Though I'm not quite as talented as you are," he said dryly. Then, despite his inner protests- What, are you going to kill her too? Just like Ella? It's as good as murder! he put his hands on top of her small, pale ones. He glanced at the music and then made the first chord with her- his- left hand. "That's C, E, and G. You hold it out for the whole measure, so don't move your hand." He took his left hand away and leaned over a bit to get better hold of her right hand. He noticed very acutely that her breaths were shallow. He placed her middle finger on a black key, and then played the first rhythm. It was surprisingly lifting as he heard music, however simple, flow out of the piano. The last time he had played was in his first week at the Institute, wandering around the corridors. He had avoided playing ever since so that the memories wouldn't plague him.
"Can you do that?" he asked patiently, taking his hand away.

"I'll try." She played the melody slowly, fixing her mistake as she played a wrong note.
"So you have both hands now. Play them at once." Beneath the piano, he placed his foot on the pedal. Tessa played it perfectly, combining the two, the notes echoing in the body of the piano and resonating after she lifted her fingers from the keys.

"Will-" He finally looked at her when he said her name. Oh no, he thought. Her dark curls spiraling out of her bun looked so soft, and there was an unguardedness in her eyes that was dangerous. "Your hands are cold." She took his hands in hers, little shocks of warmth going up his arms, and tried to be very, very still while she traced his runes with one soft finger.

"Well, it is wintertime," he said a bit roughly. "Though there's not much change here in London."

"Will, can you do me a favor?" Tessa asked. Her warmth felt like a fire next to him, even though their shoulders were not touching.

"Anything." The word came out of his mouth before he could stop it. So was this what he was going to be like? Was it going to happen again?

"Can you play this for me?" He nodded, drawing his hands from hers. The absence of her touch was almost painful. Then he placed his hands on the keys, feeling the leftover warmth from her fingers, and played softly, staring at the music even though the song was ingrained in his mind. Where his fingers should go, how hard to press the keys, what chords were next.

Soon he was lost in the music, closing his eyes and letting the melody ring clear, his hands flying over a universe of black and white. The only thing he noticed was his bare arm brushing against Tessa's, causing him to fumble on a note, but quickly regaining power. He didn't just play; he spoke of his childhood, sitting at the piano studiously with those rolling green hills out the window, and the sound of his mother's laugh.

When he finished, he sat in a daze while the final notes ghosted throughout the room. Then he stood up very quickly. His fists were clenched and his head was spinning. He had lost control. His walls were down. And the way Tessa was looking at him might as well be her demise.

He didn't flee, however. His muscles seemed frozen in place. "That was beautiful, Will." He avoided her awe-full gaze. He saw her bite her lip out of the corner of his eyes. "No, that was more than beautiful. That was... Exquisite. Where did you learn to play like that? Maybe you could teach me." The last sentence sounded hopeful, and he prayed to Raziel that it was in awe of his playing. Not a personal wish.

"I took lessons when I lived in the country," he said a bit sharply. But as he looked down his tone grew warmer. "My parents were very strict about it, saying I needed to learn 'traditional' arts. But I was still very eager to practice." He left her request unanswered.
"How come I haven't heard you play here?" He stared at her hard, wishing he could stop his hand from coming up and stroking her cheek softly.

"My utter lack of talent." He tried a joke, but he wasn't into it. "There are some things I don't do, Tess, and some things I do for you." His fingernails making half moons into his palms, he left the piano and strode across the room. Tessa watched as the door shut softly in his wake.

Will prayed for Tessa to forget the incident, prayed for her to forget the care in which he placed her fingers on the keyboard and the passion he had put into performing. From an outsider, it had seemed she had, but on some sleepless nights (which were most, to be fair) he heard the soft notes of the piano, trying again and again to master the notes into which he put his soul.