A/N: This should pass time, sorry guys for making you wait for my other stories! Please read and review!

Somethin's Happenin' Here:

She sits by her window, waiting. She always does. Sometimes she smiles at the people that look up at her, sometimes she frowns. Sometimes she just stares plainly right back at them. But every night, she waits for him to come home. Every night is the same. She waits and he's late. She's forgiving and he's tired. It's the same thing, every time.

Nervously, she plays with the soft material of her tank top as she paces around the living room. She looks back at the VCR for a confirmation. But she can't because he has yet to set the time for it. She sighs with agitation and moves towards it, to fix it.

But she can't, she figures, she doesn't know a damn thing about setting the time for a VCR; he does. He was supposed to do it last weekend, but he didn't because he was working; or so he said. But she's supposed to believe him, right? He loves her, so he says, but she doesn't know if she loves him anymore. He's always coming home late; he's always breaking his new record of lateness. It gets worse every night; a fight is usually one to occur right after he declares his arrival.

She does love him. But she doesn't know why she doubts him so much. If it's his lateness then that's lame. He works for her, he says. But that's no excuse; she works too, just not as hard as him. He claims that he works a lot so that she doesn't have to worry too much about the bills. That's so bullshit, she thinks, she worries all the same and him telling her not to, isn't going to do anything about that situation.

She gives up with the VCR and shoves it back into its place. She rubs her forehead and trots back into their bedroom to check the time. 12:57 A.M., wow, new record. Just then, she hears the familiar key crashing through the front door's keyhole and she casually walks into the living room, all the while her heart is racing. When he sees her he sighs, like he does every night when he sees that she's still awake.

"Go to sleep, Jade," he says as he swings himself past the door and falls onto the couch. Jade sighs and sits on the arm of the cushion seat, by his head.

"Mitch, why are you always so late? Aren't you tired?"

He looks up at her. "Course I'm tired," he says and falls back into the cushions, ignoring her initial question.

Jade shakes her head and gets up, moving past his tired figure laying limply on the couch as she crosses her arms and says, "I don't know what to do with you."

"Huh?" he asks as he shoots up and grabs her hips and pulls her down on his lap. He holds her tightly so she can't escape and leans down towards her neck and leaves soft kisses by her collarbone.

"Don't," she hushes, pushing him away.

"What? Why not?" he asks, anger fusing through him. All he wants is to come home to a woman he loves and, assumes, loves him back.

"Because you make me so angry and I don't want you leaving beautiful kisses along my shoulder if you're not even going to come home earlier for me!"

Mitchell sighs and runs a tired hand through his dark brown locks. He stares at their entwined hands and mentally slaps himself. He is dumb, he realizes, and he owes her so much more than he's offering.

"I'm sorry," he says.

She feels sorry for him and leans her forehead against his. Both are damp and stick so slickly against each other.

"I know," she whispers.

He moves his head so that they're about an inch apart and stares so piercingly into her eyes. She's afraid to blink; thinking that if she does, she'll break this invisible force swimming lustfully through their eyes.

"Please come home earlier," she murmurs against his lips.

"Yeah," he breathes as he sweeps into the half-inch left and finally kisses her.

His kisses are always soft at first, building up to that pinnacle. That one final stirring feeling that brings a strong urge for each to feel even closer to the other than they already are. When they pull apart, he leans his forehead on her shoulder and gasps for air. She runs her hands carelessly through his hair. And for a moment they are at peace, until he finally looks back up at her. Her hazel eyes sink into his deep dark brown ones.

"Do you love me?" he asks.

He watches her as she takes in an anonymous deep breath and pauses. She can tell he doesn't like her pause, she can tell that it's leading into something that it might not be. Might.

"Yes," she coolly answers, "Of course I do."

But does she? Does she really?

He half smiles and says, "I love you too," and sweeps in to kiss her again.

That's all for now. Please review! I love reviews, so just do it! Hehe. There'll be more in the next chapter.