A/N: This was written for a challenge and is set vaguely during Season 2.
Temptation
Nibble by nibble, Sydney snacked on a large graham cracker as her eyes struggled to focus on the flickering screen in front of her. The entire morning had passed in uncomfortable silence, with only the occasional sound byte breaking through from the boring surveillance footage.
Leaning back in his chair, Sark released a drawn out sigh, folding his arms over his chest.
"Did you say something?" asked Sydney, brushing loose crumbs from her chin.
With a turn of his head, the blonde observed her for a moment; a raised eyebrow was his only response before resuming his work. Slowly, the corner of his crooked lip drew up in amusement and Sydney could've sworn the room was spinning. She wanted to blame the lack of air-conditioning in the cramped residence, but she knew better.
Instead, she dashed from the room, calling over her shoulder, "Just getting something to drink!" Entering the kitchen, the flustered woman leaned against the wall, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath.
When Arvin Sloane had first tasked them to this long-term mission, Sydney had been upset, no, repulsed at the thought of spending weeks on end with the arrogant Mr. Sark. But soon after arriving at the SD-6 safehouse, the endless hours of close quarter work started to have an unusual affect on the double agent.
Formerly annoying little traits of his – the sarcastic musings, the perfectly messy hair, and of course, the smirk – were suddenly engaging or attractive. That fact alone was disturbing enough, but it went even further.
Night after night, the handsome Brit enticed Sydney in her dreams as well.
She attributed the sensual illusions to the fact that the pair had to share the house's only bedroom. Although he behaved like a gentleman, albeit cold and aloof, she couldn't shake his dream counterpart from her mind.
After a week, Sydney had phoned Francie in desperation, hoping for a friendly distraction. During the course of the conversation, when they were discussing Will's latest romantic dilemma, the topic turned to an unlikely subject.
"He has it so bad for this girl, Syd," chuckled Francie. "The guy about cried when she said she wanted to 'wait', if you know what I mean."
"Aww, poor Will," sympathized Sydney. "What did you suggest?"
"Graham crackers."
"Will is frustrated and you told him to eat graham crackers?"
"And lots of them," added Francie. "It's a well-known fact that graham crackers help curb lust."
"Where did you read that? The Enquirer?"
"Laugh all you want, but it seems to be helping our lover boy."
The next morning, Sydney added graham crackers to the grocery order.
Just as the brunette was about to return to the surveillance room, she remembered her excuse for the kitchen run in the first place. Swiping a bottle of water from the refrigerator, she spun around and collided hard with her colleague.
Strong hands grabbed her arms lightly to steady her from the impact. She could feel the slow burn warming her cheeks and looking away, she mumbled, "I just… didn't know you were there."
Sark tilted his head and sought eye contact, observing drolly, "Either your spy skills are slipping, Sydney, or it's all those biscuits you're consuming."
Only a week earlier, a similar comment would've earned the cocky agent a glare, a snipe, or worse. Now, that posh voice, speaking her name, was turning her knees to jelly.
In an attempt to salvage her dignity however, she snapped back, "It's Agent Bristow… and they're crackers, not biscuits."
Back at her post, she pulled a fresh pack of the graham treats from her drawer and resumed her fervent munching. Sark returned a few minutes later with a cup of tea. From the corner of her eye, she watched as he pursed his lips together and blew a stream of air over the hot drink.
Sydney sighed delicately at the image before her, recalling how the Sark in her dreams had placed moist kisses over her tummy, blowing softly over them to heighten the sensation.
"Did you say something?"
His question startled her and she shook herself out of the daze, pointing to the screen in an attempt to cover her embarrassment.
Rising from his chair, Sark moved behind her and leaned over her shoulder to have a look. His warmth was intoxicating and when his hand brushed her arm, she bit her lip to contain the moan that fluttered at the back of her throat.
Feebly, she reached for a cracker and held it up next to her head. "Hungry?"
"No thank you. I wouldn't want to deplete your precious supply."
His spicy scent lingered and teased long after he left the room.
If I could just get him to eat the crackers, too…
A long night of steamy dreams sent Sydney into action the next morning, crushing the graham crackers into crumbs and baking a delectable cheesecake. She had managed to avoid the source of her frustration for most of the day, since he had ventured into town to gather intelligence.
Upon his return, the beautiful brunette sat waiting for him on his desk, her long legs dangling over the side and a plate of the freshly baked dessert in her hand.
"Cheesecake?" she whispered breathily. "I made it myself."
Blue eyes traveled slowly from the undone buttons of her blouse up to her lovely face, watching curiously as she placed the food in her mouth. Ever so slow, she dragged the fork between full lips, savoring the tangy taste.
Now it was her image enticing him and Sydney took advantage of the turnabout, offering the mesmerized Brit a forkful of pie. Unable to refuse the temptation, he allowed her to feed him, their gazes locked. One for him, one for her; back and forth they shared until it was finished and the plate was discarded.
Somewhere along the way, the graham crackers had failed, or had they?
Taking her hand, Sark coaxed Sydney from the desk and onto his lap. His smirk returned when she brushed a crumb from his lip.
"Does this mean I'm allowed to call you Sydney?"
She flashed him a teasing smirk of her own. "That'll cost you a kiss."