002 - Alias: Can't Make You Love Me
Title: Can't Make You Love Me
Fandom: Alias
Pairing: Syd/Vaughn, Sark/Lauren, Sark/Syd
Rating: Pg-13 (The F-word used once, and some reference to sex.)
Summary: Syd is shocked to find out Sark's true feelings.
Notes: Spoilers for 4x09 - Man of His Word. This is a little plot bunny that wouldn't leave alone after last night's Alias episode. It's pretty short. I guess it's more drabble than an actual fic, but whatever. (604 words total) Let me know what you thought of it.
“He cried?” Sydney asked in disbelief. Her voice sounded loud and shrill in the apartment and she covered her mouth with her hand out of habit.
“Yeah, it was unbelievable. He even claims to have loved her. There he was, Mr. Big-Shot himself, reduced to tears over a woman he fucked a couple of times. Pathetic and sad is what that is,” Vaughn replied, a hint of amusement in his voice.
“It’s not that sad. Just, odd.”
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Whatever. At least he’ll cooperate with us now.”
“Yeah. Good,” she nodded and tried to focus.
“Anyway, enough work for tonight...” he trailed off before leaving a trail of kisses along her jawline.
“You know what? I’m actually pretty wiped,” she said apologetically and pushed him away gently. He didn’t seem to get the hint and started loosening his tie.
“Wanna get to bed?” he asked seductively, and leaned into her.
“Sorry, Vaughn. I’m just,” she stopped. She was tired. Tired of this charade she had to carry on. She couldn’t do it anymore. “I’m really tired. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” She tired to sound as pleasant as possible but she could already see the creases of his forehead deepen with each passing second. She walked him to the door and let him kiss her goodnight. As she closed the door, she let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She couldn’t keep doing this, it was eating her up inside.
In bed she lay on her back, wide away and praying for sleep to take her away. She glanced at her wristwatch. 3:36 am. Shit. She had to get up in less than 3 hours.
She turned onto one side and imagined him behind her, his arm draped around her waist, his breath hot on the back of her neck. She shut her eyes to the blinding tears and bit back a sob. She felt betrayed, sad, angry. Disappointed.
It was irrational, she knew, but there was nothing she could do that would stop the tears now.
“You’re so beautiful, Sydney,” he used to say when they were naked, sprawled across the bed, with the sun filtering in through the venetian blinds. He would stroke her cheek and stare into the depths of her eyes, trying to find something in them. She’d smile back, a rosy hue spreading across her cheeks. It was moments like those that she felt the most content, most alive.
When she had first blurted out that she loved him, it was in the middle of a session of some mind-blowing sex, and he had pretended not to have heard her. But they both knew he did. She assumed he just didn’t want to have to deal with the complexities of love. She told herself that she understood why he was so afraid of love and convinced herself of a million different reasons why he never said it back to her, even when she told him again on his balcony overlooking the ocean. It was quiet and calm, and she said it with tears in her eyes.
"I love you, Julian.”
He said nothing but gave her a small smile, and kissed her tears away, one by one.
Now as she lay in bed alone, she cried and clutched her pillow. She didn’t know how she would be able to face him tomorrow. She didn’t know how she would be able to look at him, knowing that he loved someone else. Her wristwatch beeped and she peered at it in the darkness.
It was 4 am and she was alone.
Fandom: Alias
Pairing: Syd/Vaughn, Sark/Lauren, Sark/Syd
Rating: Pg-13 (The F-word used once, and some reference to sex.)
Summary: Syd is shocked to find out Sark's true feelings.
Notes: Spoilers for 4x09 - Man of His Word. This is a little plot bunny that wouldn't leave alone after last night's Alias episode. It's pretty short. I guess it's more drabble than an actual fic, but whatever. (604 words total) Let me know what you thought of it.
“He cried?” Sydney asked in disbelief. Her voice sounded loud and shrill in the apartment and she covered her mouth with her hand out of habit.
“Yeah, it was unbelievable. He even claims to have loved her. There he was, Mr. Big-Shot himself, reduced to tears over a woman he fucked a couple of times. Pathetic and sad is what that is,” Vaughn replied, a hint of amusement in his voice.
“It’s not that sad. Just, odd.”
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Whatever. At least he’ll cooperate with us now.”
“Yeah. Good,” she nodded and tried to focus.
“Anyway, enough work for tonight...” he trailed off before leaving a trail of kisses along her jawline.
“You know what? I’m actually pretty wiped,” she said apologetically and pushed him away gently. He didn’t seem to get the hint and started loosening his tie.
“Wanna get to bed?” he asked seductively, and leaned into her.
“Sorry, Vaughn. I’m just,” she stopped. She was tired. Tired of this charade she had to carry on. She couldn’t do it anymore. “I’m really tired. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” She tired to sound as pleasant as possible but she could already see the creases of his forehead deepen with each passing second. She walked him to the door and let him kiss her goodnight. As she closed the door, she let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She couldn’t keep doing this, it was eating her up inside.
In bed she lay on her back, wide away and praying for sleep to take her away. She glanced at her wristwatch. 3:36 am. Shit. She had to get up in less than 3 hours.
She turned onto one side and imagined him behind her, his arm draped around her waist, his breath hot on the back of her neck. She shut her eyes to the blinding tears and bit back a sob. She felt betrayed, sad, angry. Disappointed.
It was irrational, she knew, but there was nothing she could do that would stop the tears now.
“You’re so beautiful, Sydney,” he used to say when they were naked, sprawled across the bed, with the sun filtering in through the venetian blinds. He would stroke her cheek and stare into the depths of her eyes, trying to find something in them. She’d smile back, a rosy hue spreading across her cheeks. It was moments like those that she felt the most content, most alive.
When she had first blurted out that she loved him, it was in the middle of a session of some mind-blowing sex, and he had pretended not to have heard her. But they both knew he did. She assumed he just didn’t want to have to deal with the complexities of love. She told herself that she understood why he was so afraid of love and convinced herself of a million different reasons why he never said it back to her, even when she told him again on his balcony overlooking the ocean. It was quiet and calm, and she said it with tears in her eyes.
"I love you, Julian.”
He said nothing but gave her a small smile, and kissed her tears away, one by one.
Now as she lay in bed alone, she cried and clutched her pillow. She didn’t know how she would be able to face him tomorrow. She didn’t know how she would be able to look at him, knowing that he loved someone else. Her wristwatch beeped and she peered at it in the darkness.
It was 4 am and she was alone.