perfection // gerz

'I Love You'~

"Fuck," Lindsey sighs deeply, suppressing a growl she can feel somewhere deep in her throat.

She still has another house to show, and the fucking family she's supposed to show it to is over fifteen minutes late. The sun is too hot on her skin as she waits for them, and she can feel frustration gnawing at her insides incessantly. It feels like she's about to crawl out of her skin, and a headache is threatening to top this all off as the shittiest day she's had in a while. Once these viewers arrive (and, knowing her luck) decide that they actually hate this house, she'll finally be free to go the fuck home. She actually wouldn't really blame them for not immediately jumping at the opportunity to invest a lot of their hard-earned money into this house. There is nothing wrong with it, per se, but it's a little plain. As an artist, it's absolutely no problem for her that the house needs a little artistic touch, since she can easily envision what the house would look like once it's received some spicing up. Viewers and potential buyers don't usually share her artistic vision, though.

She checks her watch for the time again, and notices that they are almost twenty minutes late now. If she wasn't really hoping to get this commission, she'd gladly tell the assholes to fuck right off.

Her phone buzzes with a text, and she almost laughs out loud at what she reads, because it's just the kind of irony that this day needs. The family apparently called the office to reschedule the viewing, because their youngest son is sick. How nice of them to let her know. She could have been home for a while already, even though she's pretty sure that their home is in unbound disarray, which she would need to see to, since Gerard has been quite busy ever since school started again.

"I miss my little housewife husband," she mutters sadly to herself, getting back into her car, mind set on getting home, and shedding her uncomfortable clothes. Before she inevitably has to make their living environment more tolerable, no doubt.

Because the universe apparently hates her today, the drive home isn't even a smooth one for Lindsey. Two cars actually cut her off, adding to the aggravation that she can feel bubbling right there beneath her skin; and she also almost hits a jaywalker who literally seems to come out of fucking nowhere.

"Fucking finally," she hisses through gritted teeth, finally having pulled into her driveway after what was definitely a nasty day.

Pulling the key out of the ignition, she allows herself to spend another quiet moment in the car, mentally preparing herself for what form of chaos she's likely to walk in on when she enters their little nest through that front door. Her mind provides her with vividly colourful images of mountains of dishes cluttering the kitchen, throw pillows carelessly strewn about the living room floor, the homework Gerard's busy grading carelessly covering every flat surface where he usually likes to sit and work (dining room table, kitchen counter, coffee table in the living room, their bed... Because, evidently, sticking to his desk is too mainstream for her eccentric husband), an empty coffee mug (or two) keeping every potential heap of academic chaos company (because Gerard likes to drink coffee when he grades, or does his lesson preparations). Once her mind teases her with the thought that Gerard might have even spilled some coffee somewhere on a couch or on the floor, leaving it to be cleaned up after he's done with his grading, but never getting back to it, she groans and reluctantly gets out of the car.

"Gerard?" she calls, entering their apartment, immediately stunned to notice that nothing seems to be out of order.

"In the kitchen, babes."

Lindsey has to suppress a faint gasp as she enters the kitchen, because it's nothing like she imagined it would look like at all. Everything is spotless. There isn't a single inch of the kitchen which she wouldn't feel comfortable licking, it's that clean.