Author's note -
Hello - it's been a while, hasn't it! Last year was a rather hectic year but I'm hoping this one will be on more of an even keel, with more time for writing.
This new one-shot was inspired by the January Rock the AU theme for Sybil x Tom on Tumblr (I'm very late, oops), which I will note at the end. Thank you as always to the lovely Yankee Countess for creating the monthly themes, and sending the muse to visit!
As always, I really love to hear what you think.
Looking down on the eagle's back
"That arrogant, annoying... nerf herder!"
Sybil doesn't even know what a nerf herder is, but if Princess Leia can use it as an insult, she can too.
As she walks, she can almost feel the anger rising out of the top of her head like steam.
Who organised this whole trip? Who... well, whatever it was, it was me. And then he swans in at the last minute and... bloody Tom Branson...
She's the one who has come up with the original plan. A day's hike up Skiddaw before retiring to the cottage near Keswick for a communally prepared dinner, followed by a well-earned early night.
But no, Tom has other ideas! He suggests an easy half day stroll up Catbells, followed by a visit to the aptly named Salutation Inn, where they can spend the rest of the afternoon and evening drinking, eating and having fun before rolling back to the cottage at God knows what time.
She decides to go ahead with her idea on her own, regardless of what the rest of them want to do.
It's meant to be the hiking club, not the pissing about club!
As she heads for the start of the path, the sky above her head is clear and achingly blue. The colour reminds her of something... or someone.
Oh for fuck's sake! Not him again. Mr Blue Eyes. I am not going to think about him any more, starting... now!
Sybil begins to climb Skiddaw, with its strange and entrancing name. The Lake District enfolds her with its wild, untamed beauty and she leaves her anger behind her.
The slope of the fell curves beneath her feet like the swell of a wind-stirred sea. The ground is covered in green grass cropped short by roaming herds of sheep, whose plaintive baaas keep her company as she climbs higher and higher. The fresh upland air, scented by wildflowers, is as heady as wine on her tongue. Every now and then, she catches sight of an eagle circling in front of a sun so bright she can still see it, even when she closes her eyes.
After a couple of hours, she's nearing the top. Getting there is a hard scramble, tougher than anything she's tackled before, and it takes every bit of her concentration. Rough scree tumbles down the slopes as she ascends, threatening to send her flying, and she doesn't even look up for more than thirty minutes until she approaches the cairn.
Nearly there and... her fingers touch it.
Bucket list, check!
Looking around as she catches her breath, she sees that she has the summit to herself. Once she stops to think about it, she realises that is not what she's expecting.
Sybil crosses over to the other side of the fell, and then she sees them.
Storm clouds, rolling in fast.
She realises that setting out to climb Skiddaw alone isn't her best idea. Now she's going to have to get down alone, through wild weather that has only one objective.
To stop her.
She turns back along the ridge, checking her watch as she does so.
How did it get to be so late?
The first tendrils of cold reach her then, twining around her legs, brushing across her back, like the web of a spider. An icy blast hits her cheek, then another, as she feels the temperature dropping quickly.
After another few minutes, the storm hits her.
Instantly, she can barely see more than a yard or two ahead. The grey sky closes overhead like a fist as the sleet beats down on her head and shoulders, hard enough to hurt.
For what feels like hours, she wanders around near the top of the fell, trying to find the path downwards. A false step on a loose rock sends her tumbling to the ground and, when she stands up again, she can feel a sharp pain in her ankle, which makes it even harder to keep walking.
She's kicking herself... storming out of the cottage that morning, she's forgotten her windproof jacket. A sense of panic rises up in her chest as she contemplates the idea of a night out on this stormy slope, alone and injured, in nothing but shorts and a t-shirt.
Then, a memory reveals itself.
There's a bothy up here somewhere. I can find shelter...
Finding her way back to the summit ridge, she begins to follow it. The cabin is somewhere high up, and she figures she'll find it by taking the ridge as far as she can.
A stroke of luck – out of the gloom, Sybil sees what looks like a wooden building. She stumbles towards it, exhausted and nearly in tears.
She opens the door. A camp stove is burning brightly in the centre and she can smell hot tea brewing. Then she sees a man appear from the dark corner of the bothy, pulling on a jumper, arms above his head.
She can't help but notice his abs where his t-shirt rides up above his waistband. When a familiar face pops out of the neck of the jumper, she realises she's secretly checked out those abs before.
"Sybil, I was hoping you'd end up here. Are you all right?"
"Am I all rig..." she splutters, hardly able to get the words out as her teeth chatter and her brain flares with anger. "What in the name of fuck are you doing here, Tom? I thought you were going to..."
"I know, I was, but when I saw what kind of day it was this morning when we got outside, I left the others and followed you up Skiddaw. The storm got so bad on my way down, I had to take shelter." She sees that, like hers, Tom's hair is soaking wet.
He gestures towards the camp stove. "Come on and sit down, you must be freezing." He walks towards her and reaches to take her hand.
His touch on her cold skin is like a flame, and she recoils from it instinctively, as she has done from every contact with him since the first day of college.
He's always teasing her, winding her up, trying to annoy her. Most of the time Sybil rises to it, taking the bait. She can't help it – he knows exactly how to push her buttons and seems to delight in doing just that.
"Come on, you know you want to." He winks at her and turns away. She follows him, realising it's the sensible thing to do.
Next thing she knows, she's sitting on the ground, warming her hands around a steaming mug of tea. As she closes her eyes to appreciate its comforting warmth, she feels something fall around her shoulders.
"You need it more than I do right now," he says.
She catches a glimpse from the corner of her eye of the bright blue windproof jacket that Tom always wears on hiking club trips. Unlike her, he's ready for anything the changeable weather of the Lakes might bring.
Her instinct tells her to throw it away with a sarcastic comment of some kind. But for once, common sense prevails over her emotions, and she pulls it around her.
"Thanks, I guess. If it weren't for you..."
I wouldn't have been out here alone! But she refrains from finishing her sentence.
"Hey, are you all right? Did you hurt yourself?" Tom's looking at her knee, and Sybil sees for the first time that it's skinned from the fall, leaving blood trickling down her leg.
"It got pretty dark out there fast... I lost my footing. Turned my stupid ankle, too... "
"I've got something in here that might..." he says as she pulls a tissue out of her pocket and begins to wipe the wound clean. Scrabbling in his backpack, he finds a rolled-up bandage. "Can I give you a hand?"
"No, I'm fine." She loosens the laces of her boot and pulls it off, wincing in pain. Then, she straps her ankle firmly with the bandage, feeling the swelling of the sprain under her fingers. Finally, she lifts her leg a little, putting it on top of her own pack to elevate it.
Once her injuries have been attended to, she looks around the small cabin. There's not much to it, just the basics for a night's survival out in the open.
And only one single bed against the wall, with one blanket covering it.
His eyes meet hers. "You can have the bed, don't worry. I've got a sleeping bag, I'll be fine on the floor."
Epic eye roll. "Are you kidding me? I'm perfectly capable of sleeping on the floor. I'm not some fragile Edwardian maiden, you idiot! Besides, you were here first. Only...can I borrow your sleeping bag?"
He jerks his head towards a wrapped, olive green bundle over by the wall.
"Knock yourself out, milady!"
Sybil wakes up, frozen to the bone, after a couple of hours. She's shivering so hard, she has rolled halfway out of the sleeping bag, and her ankle is throbbing deeply with pain. There's no way she'll be able to go back to sleep now.
She gets up and limps over to the window, pulling the borrowed jacket around her as she tries to warm up.
The storm seems to have passed, more or less. The sleet has turned to the occasional shower of rain, although there's still an Arctic wind whistling in through the cracks of the cabin. A band of silver light is streaming into the bothy from a pale, full moon that hangs in the clearing sky.
Turning back to the room, her eyes meet Tom's.
"What are you doing over there?"
"I woke up, I couldn't sleep. Too bloody cold."
He lifts up the blanket. "Come on, you can get in here. Promise I don't snore!"
She fights with herself for several seconds. Get into bed with Tom Branson, not a chance! But then she realises she really doesn't have an option, if she wants to survive the night without freezing solid.
She hobbles across the room and lies down on the bed, her back to him, crossing her arms around herself.
"You stick to your side and I'll stick to mine."
"Fine by me," he says, turning away from her. "Night night, sweet dreams."
The warmth of the bed, his warmth, slowly seeps into her bones. She feels herself clinging to the edge of the mattress, trying not to touch him as she falls into a deep sleep.
The next morning, Sybil wakes very early as the sunlight hits her face. She feels wrong, but oh so... right, too.
Something warm and firm is wrapped around her waist.
She looks down and sees Tom's arm. Somehow, as they both slept, they've moved together, drawn to each other's body heat on that icy night.
Her mind tells her to pull herself free, and she is about to obey.
But she feels an electricity flowing through her body that she can't explain. Their skin isn't even in contact, but even through her t-shirt she can feel an energy, a sparkle, coming from him into her.
So she does something she never thought she'd do.
Instead of moving away, she pushes herself slightly back against him, curling her body into his, savouring the feel of him. The unexpected delight of being in his arms makes the blood race to her head and she can sense her cheeks flushing in spite of herself.
He's still deeply asleep but he stirs a little, pressing his face into the back of her neck. His breath on her skin sends such a shaft of longing through her that she gasps, biting her lip to hold back the sound.
She wants him to stay where he is, to hold her, to be close to her, but she's afraid of his reaction when he wakes up.
How will he respond to her? Will he take his arm away with a smart remark? Or will he...
She tries to imagine what the alternative might be. Roll her onto her back... touch her face and smile... kiss her?
Closing her eyes, she wills him to remain asleep a little longer. But after only a few more minutes, she hears him begin to wake up.
"Arghh, what..." he growls.
She feels him start to roll away. Without thinking about it, she holds onto his arm, pulling it more tightly around her.
"Don't go," she whispers.
She hears Tom breathe in sharply, then he slides his hand up her arm, pushing her shoulder gently down to the bed so she's on her back.
He leans up on one elbow and looks into her eyes. "Hey, what's up?"
"I don't know, I..." Sybil's face flushes even redder and she looks down, letting the rest of her sentence trail away.
When she eventually finds the courage to look up at him again, his eyes are sparkling and he's smiling. The kind of smile you see on the face of a child who has just got his dearest wish.
Instead of speaking, he leans down and touches her lips softly with his. "I've been wanting to do that since the moment I laid eyes on you, Sybil."
"Then why..."
"Don't you know? How else could I get your attention, all those guys hanging round you?"
"Well, you certainly did that..."
He kisses her again, more deeply this time, his tongue finding hers. His hand slides under the hem of her t-shirt and his touch on her skin causes a deep, uncoiling feeling in her belly.
By the time they come up for air, he's lying almost on top of her. The weight of him makes her moan with pleasure.
She looks up at him and their gazes lock. She reaches up to brush his hair away from his forehead, then lets her fingers rest on his cheek, feeling his rough morning stubble.
How did I not see it before... how beautiful he is.
"Can we keep this between us? I really don't need them all watching every move we make right now. Not with exams coming up and all..."
"You're asking me to have a secret affair with you, Lady Sybil?" Tom grins at her and winks. Then his face turns serious. "I already knew you were the hottest woman I'd ever met... but now I realise... I had no idea just how sexy you really are."
His hands are underneath her t-shirt by now and, as he talks, he's sliding them up from her waist to find the sides of her breasts, stroking her there slowly enough to make her ache. His sharp blue stare pierces her like a dagger plunged straight into her gut.
The next move comes from Sybil as she pulls him back down, closing her eyes as they find each other again.
This time, their kisses seem to go on for hours. Her body's opening, softening, welcoming him. He lets his hands trail back down her sides and there's a gentle pressure as he pushes her hips down into the thin mattress.
"Oh Christ, that's so fucking good, Tom..." she can't help whispering as they pull apart.
Her eyelids flutter open. She's never wanted anything more in her life than what's about to happen between them, and she can see that he's feeling the same way.
"Come here to me..." he murmurs.
She quirks an eyebrow at him. "Is that your seduction line?"
"Yeah, do you like it?"
She smiles. "Really, Branson... I thought I gave the orders!"
The end
A/N -
The Tumblr AU theme was 'forced to share a bed' - which you probably guessed. :)
The Lake District in England is a stunning landscape for walkers, and I particularly love the wonderful, sometimes strange names of the peaks there like the ones I have used in this story. Skiddaw is the sixth-highest mountain in England at just over 3,000 ft high and, according to one source, its name is derived from the Old Norse and means either "archer's hill" or "jutting crag hill". Catbells is about half as high, and its name may come from a distortion of "Cat Bields" meaning shelter of the wild cat. Definitely an easier option than the adventure Sybil set out on!
A bothy is a basic shelter, usually left unlocked and available for anyone to use free of charge. They are to be found in remote mountainous areas of Scotland, Northern England, Ireland and Wales. I'm not sure if there is one on the top of Skiddaw, although it seems like the kind of place one might be found
The title of this fic was inspired by a beautiful and evocative line in the story Brokeback Mountain by E Annie Proulx, describing how Ennis and Jack felt at the start of their love affair: "There were only the two of them on the mountain, flying in the euphoric, bitter air, looking down on the hawk's back...''. That's just how I imagined Sybil and Tom might feel by the end of this story. :)