It's time for a new JC one-shot collection from yours truly! Rest assured, there will be tons of my specialty: angst. (Though I'll also try to write some more romantic/happy/cutesy drabbles too)
Will update whenever I get time/whenever I feel inspired.
It had been a long day in the lab. Jimmy wiped the grease off his forehead with a small hand towel and then downed a glass of cold water from the kitchen sink. Suddenly, a slew of gorgeous notes filled the air, and he stopped in his tracks.
Moments like these, the love for her came rushing back. He found himself walking towards the study, as if in a trance.
Cindy in an elegant sage green silk dress was a sight to behold. Her fingers slid lithely over the black and white keys of the Steinway effortlessly. Her back arched in perfect posture, her blonde hair catching the light from the giant bay window behind her.
She wasn't even looking at the sheet music. She never did. Her childhood lessons had paid off.
He, of course, had no musical bone in his entire body. But that didn't stop him from appreciating just how talented she was.
When she finally noticed his presence, her playing came to an abrupt halt, and turned her eyes to him icily.
"Jimmy."
She had reason to be cold, he supposed. He barely ever emerged from the lab these days. And he was awkward with affection, though he'd certainly tried more their first year or two of marriage. They'd been younger then, and the passionate insults flying off their tongues and the equally passionate kissing afterwards had been endearing. Now, they barely had time for each other. Cindy was always wrapped up in her latest high profile divorce settlement, while he toiled endlessly on his inventions.
He wanted to tell her he'd forgotten how awe-inspiring she was. That he missed her and her fire. That she was breath-takingly beautiful. Of course, that wasn't what came out. Not even close.
"Taking a break from helping speed up marital separations for the evening?"
If at all possible, her gaze grew even more icier.
"Maybe they should consult you instead." She quipped.
He knew he had it coming. But it still stung. Didn't she know being mean was his way of getting them to fall into their once familiar patterns again?
Against all better judgment, he sat beside her on the piano bench. This was the closest they had been in a long while. He could feel how tightly wound up she was, without even touching her. She exuded a kind of anxious energy that somehow hurt even more than her sharp comeback.
"I haven't heard you play this whole summer."
"You don't hear lots of things from down there."
He sighed. After a moment, he shrugged. "I guess that's fair."
"Fair?" Her tone went up an octave, in a dangerous tilt. "I'd call it anything but."
"You're busy too." He countered.
Her shoulders seemed to slump at the accusation. She backed down. Too easily for a Vortex, he lamented.
A whole minute passed before he laid his hand on hers, his slightly dirty fingernails a contrast to her manicured pink ones.
"Did I play well?"
He nodded. "You always do." It hadn't escaped him that she was playing the piece she'd played at her very first recital that he'd attended when they were still in middle school.
She blushed. He felt triumphant. As if they were school-children with crushes again.
"Thanks."
"Don't mention it, love." He laid a kiss on her forehead.
He would try to be above-ground more often. It was too quiet in his world without her.