Cameron can appreciate art (tin_miss) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2012-10-02 01:04:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, cameron phillips, james kirk |
"Don't worry about it. It's a worthy sacrifice."
Who: Jim Kirk and Cameron
What: Random meeting at a club. Cameron doesn't sleep much
When: Lets say a couple of weeks ago, shortly after Cameron moved into town
Where: A club
Status: complete
Rating: PG-13 for pick up lines
Cameron was that quiet kid, the one who sat in the corner, who got good, but not great, grades. The one the other kids thought was a little weird. She didn't talk so well with them, and had trouble understanding popular culture. It didn't seem to matter to her. What mattered was John, Sarah and the arts.
She would lose herself in the deep strumming notes of her Cello. In Orchestra, all the instruments came together, swelling through her chest and down to her core, made it hard to breathe, hard to think, hard to do anything but let the wave take her. It brought tears to her eyes, without fail. Even when practicing alone, when she hit her stride and rode that wave it made her skin tingle and her heart sing and she felt so alive.
When she'd graduated, she'd joined a small orchestra, just to experience the cacophony of sound around her and through her. It was uniquely her time.
Sleep never came easily for Cameron. Her mind was always too awake, her fingers always itching for something to do. Some nights she'd sneak out and walk. She'd walk to places that might be dangerous, or places that might be safe, just to observe people. There was a certain sense of order in the chaos, in the way people moved and interacted, that appealed to her. She never felt unsafe - she carried a gun, and she knew how to use it. Sarah had insisted.
One such night, she was in a club nursing some water. She wore a short skirt and a strategically torn shirt. A couple was dancing, no space between them, nothing penetrating their bubble. Both men were so wrapped up in each other that she could fire her gun into the air and they wouldn't even notice. She was fascinated.
Someone bumped into her, "Hey! Sorry about that. Isn't this music awesome?"
"Yes. It's tight," Cameron replied, using a word she'd heard when she was still in high school.
"Wanna dance?"
She studied his face for a moment, then nodded her head. He reminded her a bit of John, which made her stomach flutter, "Okay. Let's dance."
"Name's Jim."
"Cameron." She took his hand and dragged him out to the dance floor.
Jim's eyebrows went way up, but he didn't mind, "Don't worry, I won't bite."
The last time Cameron had tried dancing had been at her prom. It had been embarrassing, and while she hadn't shown it on her face she had pretty much spent the next week alone in her room playing her cello.
"I don't know how to dance," She admitted.
"That's okay. Just don't break my feet and I'll show you," He joked, as he slipped his arms around her. "Just follow my lead."
"Follow your lead," Cameron repeated, biting her lip for a moment as he got closer. He even used the same body wash as John. She would know, she sniffed it sometimes, "If I break your feet, I'm sorry."
"Don't worry about it. It's a worthy sacrifice." A slow song started, and he swayed with her.
She peered up at him, a curious expression on her face, her head tilting slightly, "Is it?" Then she rested her head on his shoulder, and let him show her how to dance.