This is my first try at a Fanfic-it's total fluff!

I hope you like it....

Disclaimer:

I so do not own any of these characters. So don't sue me.

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She was already three beers and two tequila shots deep when she got the page. Damn! What was he doing paging her on a Saturday night? She didn't have an assignment, and she couldn't imagine why he would need to talk to her at 12:30 on the only night she had out with her friends. It would figure that he would call her after she had too much to drink.

Not that she didn't want to see him. In fact, nothing sounded better. She always got touchy-feely when she was drunk, and lately there was only one man she had been thinking of. But there was no way she could make it to him, she wasn't designated tonight. She would just have to convince him to come to her. Tossing back her last shot of tequila, she weaved her way through the crowed dance floor to the pay phones at the back of the bar.

"I can't make it to you tonight. Come to me instead. I'm at Club Vah-Shir with Francie. Ask me to dance. I'll be waiting."

She hadn't been able to hear him over the music. She didn't know if he had protested, but she was proud of how succinct she had been. She was sure he didn't know she was drunk. Not yet anyway. But with her head spinning it was only a matter of time before the haze took over completely. If she had waited another ten minutes to call him she was sure she would have rambled incoherently. That's what he gets for calling on Saturday night. She felt the beat of the music fill her chest, and went back to the table to wait for him.

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"Would you like to dance?"

She had almost forgotten that he was coming, it had taken so long. But he looked wonderful. She rarely saw him this way, but it was a welcome change. Wearing a light weight sweater that hugged his chest and begged to be touched. Well, maybe the sweater didn't beg, but she was about to. His hair was always so messy, like he just rolled out of bed. But she knew that it was purposeful, and she wondered if he had styled it that way for her.

A slower song was playing, and she put her hand in his and let him lead her onto the dance floor. She was surprised at the almost unconscious way he intertwined his fingers with hers so that he wouldn't lose her in the crush. He led her to the middle of the floor, deep in the throng of warm, moving bodies. There were so many people on the floor it felt as if the whole place was moving together. Maybe that was just the tequila.

He slipped his arms around her waist and leaned down to her ear so that she could hear him. But she didn't really hear him anyway. Whatever he was saying wasn't as important as the intricate patterns she was tracing on his chest, or the way that his aftershave tickled her nose, or the soft scratch of his five o'clock shadow against her cheek.

"... so I'm sorry I had to contact you like this."

His eyes are so green. And he was telling her he was sorry! What a wonderful man. She sighed, putting her cheek on his shoulder, slowly rubbing her face back and forth against the fabric. The sweater really was as soft as it looked, but he wasn't. He was warm and strong underneath it.

"Sydney? Hey, did you hear anything I just said?" He seemed concerned. She had to laugh, for the only thing she could recall was the beat of his heart against her cheek and the pounding bass of the music. She was spinning, and her palms were itching with the need to touch him, and he was in her arms...and she had never felt better.

"Syd... are you drunk?!" He seemed incredulous. Like he couldn't imagine her any way but competent.

"Maybe just a little." She laughed again. It was so good just to be with him like this. He was swaying with her, and he didn't even realize that his hand was massaging circles into the small of her back.

"Look, why don't we go over this tomorrow instead? I shouldn't of bothered you tonight, and it looks like you won't be retaining any of this anyway. I'll call you tomorrow, OK?"

He was leaving?! No! He couldn't leave now!

"Wait!" She grabbed his sleeve and dragged him back to her.

"Don't leave me, not yet." Did she sound desperate? She hoped not, but then again, she felt desperate. She needed to be with him just a little while longer, here in public, with all of these people and her head swimming and their bodies moving and pressing towards each other.

She told him so.

"Sydney," he was looking in her eyes and smiling the smallest smile and she thought she could look at him forever... "You don't know what you are saying right now, you aren't yourself." He was cupping her cheek with his palm, and his other palm was slipping against hers as he brought it up to his chest.

"I would love to stay here with you, but we are already risking our lives by being here together. I really should go. I will call you tomorrow. Late tomorrow." He smile reached his eyes and they crinkled just slightly at the corners.

She loved that too. She loved everything. She moved closer.

"Vaughn, I do know what I'm saying. I'm just not scared to say it anymore." She slipped her free hand up over his shoulder to the back of his neck and let her fingertips graze his hair. "Please stay with me a little longer. Just one more song, that's all I ask. Please."

Her mouth was dry, and her heart was beating hard. At that moment, it seemed so important that he accommodate this one wish. He would do that for her, wouldn't he?

Wouldn't he do anything for her?

He was hesitant. "One more song. I'll stay with you for one more song." The smile had faded from his eyes, and he was looking at her as if there was no one else in the club. He slipped his hands back around her waist and slowly, deliberately drew her closer to him.

There was no talking now.

The moved rhythmically to the heavy, slow downbeat of the electronica music that the DJ was playing. She let her breasts graze his chest as she hooked her fingers through the belt loop at his side, her other hand still caressing the hair at the back of his neck. Slowly she put pressure to the back of his neck, and reaching up, she let him take her weight as she leaned against him, pulling his face close to hers. He never took his eyes from her as she lightly pressed her lips against his. She felt her eyes flutter as she softly rolled her head back and forth, molding her lips to his, barely touching him at all.

He didn't move. He didn't even breathe. She drew away confused, disappointed. He hadn't reacted at all. She felt his hand on her chin, drawing her face up to look at him.

"Be careful what you wish for Sydney. You just might get it."

His eyes were hot, and for a moment she was frightened. But that moment passed quickly as his hand tightened on her jaw, and he slowly leaned down to press against her, giving her plenty of time to pull back. But she wasn't going to pull back, and he knew it.

His lips were hard and hot and spicy, and his tongue traced the seam of her lips, asking her to let him in.

She relented and he tasted her.

Invaded her.

Consumed her.

He was coffee and mint and spice and her head was spinning and she could of been anyplace, anywhere, as long as he was doing this to her. His one hand flattened out against her cheek, dragging into her hair, and his other was tight against her back, splaying across her tailbone, pulling her closer, as close as he could.

It wasn't close enough.

It would never be close enough.

Her pelvis bumped against his, and she moaned into his mouth. He took her breath away, and she let him have it. He could have anything he wanted.

He never stopped moving to the beat, and the sound intermingled in her mind with the alcohol and his heartbeat and her heartbeat and the ringing in her ears and the blood flowing through her veins.

Her thigh rubbed against his and his breath caught, giving her a chance to catch hers.

He pulled away and changed the slant of his head, coming back for more, trying to taste and explore all of her. She wanted him to, she was his for the taking.

And then his hands were on her shoulders, pushing her away. She was startled from the shock of losing his mouth, his touch. She looked up at him, but he wasn't looking at her now, was in fact looking over her, around her, anywhere but at her. His breathing was hard, but his face was cold when he finally spoke.

"Song's over, Sydney."

And then he was gone.