A few days later, Pointe Mouette, Maine...

Leaning against the front door, Skye watched as her husband gingerly sat down on the bench, staring at the piano before him. So much for the romantic weekend that Alec had loaned them the cabin for. She should have known better than to except that it would actually happen, at least not when there was a piano present.

Some wives had to worry about losing their husbands to other women. Not Skye, though. She fought a constant battle to ensure that she didn't lose her husband to his music instruments. They had only been out of the car for five minutes, and it already looked like the piano was winning this round.

Eyes not moving from the keys, Jeffrey addressed his wife. "Skye, why don't you go unpack? I'll only be here for a minute."

She snorted, knowing better than to believe that claim. "Alright. I hope you two have fun!" Shaking her head, she went outside to get the bags. It was a good thing she wasn't codependent.

Later...

"Jeffrey?" Skye was sitting on the couch, watching her husband's fingers caress her biggest rival. The piano. She wasn't jealous by any means, but she was getting annoyed. "Jeffrey, it's been longer than a minute." Still no reaction. "As a matter of fact, Jeffrey, it's been about three hours!" It didn't matter: he was lost to the world. "Jeffrey, if you don't get up from that piano right now, I'm suing for divorce in the morning!"

There was a pause, and then, a few moments later, "Just a second, Honey."

Skye groaned. Apparently, that technique wasn't working. Time for plan B. Sucking in a quick breath, she winced and said, "Jeffrey, I'm pregnant." She was lying through her teeth, and hoped that he wouldn't be too upset when he found out. She needn't have worried.

"Not right now, Skye!"

She huffed, not believing it. This was worse than she thought. Plan C, come to order. Trying as hard as she possibly could to keep the grin off her face, she began groaning and moaning for all she was worth. "Jeffrey... Oh, Jeffrey... OWWWW!" She began to rock back and forth, holding her stomach. "Jeffrey - I - think - I'm - dying. OWWWW! OHHHH! AHHH!"

"Shhhh, Skye. Do you have to make so much noise when I trying to play?!"

She groaned, in earnest this time, and flopped back down on the couch. It was time for her last resort. In the four and a half months that they had been married, she had only done this sort of thing twice. She hated doing it, but it was the only thing that would get through to him sometimes, and she wanted very badly to get through to him right now.

Taking a deep breath, she raised herself from the couch, and slowly made her way over to the piano, taking a seat next to her husband. Ever so softly, she nudged him in the shoulder. "Jeffrey?" Her voice was light and gentle, and almost wispy in its make-up.

With deliberately slow movements, she raised her hand and rested it on his arm. His fingers slipped, almost unnoticeably, on the run he was playing. She smiled. Almost painfully slow, her fingers found their way to the back of his neck. A muscle feathered in his cheek and his hands faltered.

"Jeffrey?" Ever so softly, almost undetectably, she pressed her lips to his jaw. She jumped at the sound of the piano cover slamming down, the broken chord still ringing in the air. Her husband's eyes met hers, and she slid back in shock. The usually green orbs had morphed into dark emerald pools, and there was no doubting what they were transmitting. When he spoke, his voice was low and scratchy.

"Skye, come here." A bit worried about this new version of her husband that she had draw forth, Skye slid back a little further. He, again, closed the gap. "Skye, I said come here." She scooted back a bit further. Still staring at her, he grabbed her shoulders just as she pulled back even further.

There was a moment of suspension and then a loud crash as two people fell off the piano bench. Jeffrey landed on top of her, yet neither of them wanted to move. They were there long into the night.

The next morning...

Skye opened her eyes, sat up, looked out the window, and promptly fell back into bed, groaning. Jeffrey sighed. "Now what's the matter?"

"There are at least seven feet of snow out there. It must have been a blizzard last night. I wonder why we didn't hear it?"

He snorted. "Really? I know perfectly well why we didn't hear it."

Blushing, she punched him in the shoulder. "Oh, shut up. Anyways, what are we going to, seeing as we're snowed in?"

"Oh, I could think of a few things..." A smirk on his face, he leaned over and grabbed his wife by the shoulders, pulling her on top of him. She just sighed.

Later...

"Jeffrey, I really have to get up now. I have to make some headway on that dissertation. I have a publishing date in three months!"

"Three months is a long time. I hardly think that one day is going to make that much of a difference."

"Well, I disagree with you, and I'm the one who has to write it. Why don't you go make one of those fires you're always raving about?"

"Jeffrey Penderwick! If you don't stop that racket right this instant I am personally going to murder you!"

She was laying in front of the fire with her laptop next to her, trying desperately to ignore the music coming from the next room so she could write. It wasn't working. Huffing with anger, she got up and stormed into the music room. He was, as usual, seated at the piano. Skye could learn to hate that instrument very easily.

"Jeffrey! Could you please stop it?! I'm trying to get some work done!"

He turned around and looked at her, arms crossed. "And so am I! This is the piece I am going to work on at Juilliard next week!"

"And you've already played it one hundred times today! You're a wonderful musician, Jeffrey, but boy do I wish you had some more variety!"

He looked insulted, as well he should. "I have variety, but you don't get good at something by not playing it! You have to practice the same thing over and over again if you want to get good!"

She rolled her eyes. "You mean like this?" Glaring, she stomped over to the drum set, picked up the sticks and began to beat out whatever random rhythm came to mind. She smirked at Jeffrey winced. Good.

Jeffrey had his fingers in his ears, but he couldn't bring himself to leave the room. He couldn't stop staring at his wife. She was always gorgeous, especially when she was angry, but this was something new. She was smirking at him in triumph, sure, but there was something about her smirk that made him want to kiss it right off of her face. Her blonde hair was flying in all directions, he blues eyes were steely and shining, and her cheeks were flushed. God, she looked amazing. Even if she couldn't play the drums.

Suddenly, he couldn't control himself. He didn't care that he was supposed to be practicing and she was supposed to be writing. This was their romantic vacation, and they had better things to do.

Taking his fingers out of his ears, he strode forward and grabbed the drumsticks out of his wife's hands. She glared at him, but he didn't care. Grasping her shoulders, he pulled her out of her seat and drew her to him. As their bodies collided, her glare disintegrated. His breathing heavy, he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers.

Skye couldn't breathe. Her lips no longer belonged to her, and she didn't have the heart to start a revolution so that she might have them returned. She was suffocating, but it was glorious.

Moving of their own accord, her hands found his hair, and she pulled herself closer. Moaning softly as his hands massaged her back, she conceded completely to his ministrations. This beat writing any day.

Sorry for the long wait, guys, but skiing has been sounding much better than writing lately. :-)

Andtheansweris42 - Hahaha. Thank you! :-)

Pseudonymperson - Obviously, you figured it out. :-) Thanks!

Randomsarcasm42 - Don't worry: that's coming. :-) But, as you said, Skye has to get pregnant somehow.

Thank you all, but don't think that you are off the hook. Please keep up this glorious trend! :-)