11
the not-so-domestic meme (x)
11. our muses’ roof is leaking
The weather has been — for lack of a better word — shit.It’s been raining on and off for weeks, and Cy and Llewyn have been trapped inside for the most part. Not that Llewyn is crazy about outside, either, but he likes to have options, at the very least. However: the rain and occasional loss of power means lots and lots of snuggling, which Lou is scary amounts of okay with.
Nothing is out of the ordinary on this particular morning. Llewyn is sitting at the kitchen counter, reading a newspaper (one of few things he hasn’t been able to give up — he’s been doing it for over 70 years, so it’s almost tradition now), and waiting for Cy to get out of bed. He can’t make breakfast until she’s awake, so he’s killing as much time as possible before he gives in and goes to get her up. He’s cold, in his boxers and tee shirt, and looks old, with his reading glasses low on his nose and the gray in his hair and beard more prominent than ever (he’s due for a dye).
He thinks he might be imagining things when the first drop of water hits the top of his head. He shivers, shifts in his chair, and keeps his eyes on the paper. The next few draw his eyes up to the ceiling.
Shit.
"—- Sweetheart," he says from the doorway, loud enough to wake her. His smile is forced in a way that makes his frustration more than obvious. "We have a problem."
