Response to 'One Night'
15 words over the word limit. Sydfic, involves Danny/Vaughn/Simon, but more gen than anything.
The first time she spent the night at Danny’s place happened mostly by accident. Her car totaled itself almost right outside Danny’s door, and - 1998 being an age when mobiles were not yet common - the only logical thing to do was to knock on her boyfriend’s door and ask to use the phone.
They’d been going out for two months - too short a time for sex in Sydney’s opinion, too long in Danny’s. Her greeting peck on the cheek turned into a kiss on the mouth, the kiss into a long liplock, and the long liplock saw them on the sofa, struggling to rid each other of their clothes as fast as possible.
One night, Sydney remembers promising herself. The one turned into a two, and then a three; the night turned into week. Week turned into months, and months into lifetime.
---
The first time she spent the night at Vaughn’s place happened mostly by accident. They went home to her apartment as always; Sydney was just walking into the living room when she gasped slightly and pushed Vaughn outside, right back into the car. She backed out at an impressive speed, and put her foot right on the pedal.
“Will. Francie. Oh my God.” She managed three minutes later to a bewildered Vaughn, as they sped down the road towards his house.
His place was nothing like hers, and had a slight air of neglect, like he only came here because he had to. Feeling uncomfortable in his slightly smaller bed, she only relaxed when she could feel his body next to hers, a constant source of warmth.
They ended up spending the night on the carpet, and it was safe to say neither of them got much sleep from the experience. Sydney told herself that it was time to talk to Francie, and that Vaughn’s place was definitely not suited for spending more than one night in. He didn’t even have a coat hanger, much less a drawer to call her own.
(When asked about carpet burns on her knees a week later, she blamed the recent mission in Siberia.)
---
It is the first time she spends the night at Simon’s place, and it is a loss of control she thought she will never again allow.
She doesn’t love him but that, like many other things in Julia Thorne’s life, has chosen to sit on the sideline and watch with detached interest. His kisses are passionate and warm enough to comfort a pair of cold lips on a cold night; that, for the moment, is enough.
She feels a shiver of guilt and enjoys it immensely; her hope is not yet dead. The logical side of her has already given up on Vaughn, but her love hasn’t; her love has kept hoping and will keep hoping even as Simon’s hands run down her side, and his slightly bitter breath whispers meaningless tenders in her ear.
Thinking of Vaughn, guilt baths over her once again. One night, she decides. If not for tradition’s sake, then for grief’s.
The first time she spent the night at Danny’s place happened mostly by accident. Her car totaled itself almost right outside Danny’s door, and - 1998 being an age when mobiles were not yet common - the only logical thing to do was to knock on her boyfriend’s door and ask to use the phone.
They’d been going out for two months - too short a time for sex in Sydney’s opinion, too long in Danny’s. Her greeting peck on the cheek turned into a kiss on the mouth, the kiss into a long liplock, and the long liplock saw them on the sofa, struggling to rid each other of their clothes as fast as possible.
One night, Sydney remembers promising herself. The one turned into a two, and then a three; the night turned into week. Week turned into months, and months into lifetime.
---
The first time she spent the night at Vaughn’s place happened mostly by accident. They went home to her apartment as always; Sydney was just walking into the living room when she gasped slightly and pushed Vaughn outside, right back into the car. She backed out at an impressive speed, and put her foot right on the pedal.
“Will. Francie. Oh my God.” She managed three minutes later to a bewildered Vaughn, as they sped down the road towards his house.
His place was nothing like hers, and had a slight air of neglect, like he only came here because he had to. Feeling uncomfortable in his slightly smaller bed, she only relaxed when she could feel his body next to hers, a constant source of warmth.
They ended up spending the night on the carpet, and it was safe to say neither of them got much sleep from the experience. Sydney told herself that it was time to talk to Francie, and that Vaughn’s place was definitely not suited for spending more than one night in. He didn’t even have a coat hanger, much less a drawer to call her own.
(When asked about carpet burns on her knees a week later, she blamed the recent mission in Siberia.)
---
It is the first time she spends the night at Simon’s place, and it is a loss of control she thought she will never again allow.
She doesn’t love him but that, like many other things in Julia Thorne’s life, has chosen to sit on the sideline and watch with detached interest. His kisses are passionate and warm enough to comfort a pair of cold lips on a cold night; that, for the moment, is enough.
She feels a shiver of guilt and enjoys it immensely; her hope is not yet dead. The logical side of her has already given up on Vaughn, but her love hasn’t; her love has kept hoping and will keep hoping even as Simon’s hands run down her side, and his slightly bitter breath whispers meaningless tenders in her ear.
Thinking of Vaughn, guilt baths over her once again. One night, she decides. If not for tradition’s sake, then for grief’s.