Ok, so here is the same night from Vaughn's POV. I hope it helps to clear some things up.
-Steph
Please review!
Disclaimer: I so do now own any of these people, so don't sue me.
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He was a moron.
An idiot.
A complete ass.
He had gone against everything that his training had taught him, not to mention his own morals.
He had taken advantage of her.
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He had been surprised at her request when she called. He could hear music pulsing in the background, her voice overly loud to compensate. Part of him wanted to wait until the next day to see her, knowing that it was dangerous to meet her in such a crowded place face to face. But then his reasoning left him at the thought of seeing her on a Saturday night, dancing with her as if they were anybody else, just two normal people out on the town. Not that it would of mattered, as she had hung up the phone before he could say anything to stop her.
He had agonized over what to wear like some 15 year old going to cotillion. He wanted to look good for her. No- scratch that. He wanted to look great. He wanted to be the only man in the place that she noticed. He wanted her to look at him as if she had never seen him before.
He wanted things to be different then what they were.
He was a fool.
He had spent thirty minutes messing up his hair just so, because she seemed to like it that way. He had worn his favorite sweater, and now as he stripped it off he paused to hold it to his face. It smelled of her. He vowed never to wash it, then threw it into the laundry hamper. Who was he kidding?
He had stared at her for a long time before approaching her, making sure he didn't seem too anxious. It was very important that he not give too much of himself away. He had already let her know too much, and if she knew how he really felt she would have the power to destroy him. He wasn't ready for that yet.
He didn't know if he would ever be ready for her.
She had looked so lovely. Her hair was loose and soft around her shoulders, and it whispered against her upper arms, bared by the sleeveless shirt she had been wearing. She was smiling and laughing, her face alight with the pleasure of being young and beautiful and free, even momentarily. She never looked like that when he was around her.
He hadn't wanted to interrupt her, but he was drawn to her.
He had needed to be next to her.
He could close his eyes and still see her there.
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"Would you like to dance?"
Her eyes made him feel bold, and she looked at him as though she had been waiting for him all night. Of course, it was 2:00 in the morning, and as it had taken him forever to get there, the look might have been from impatience.
He vowed to stop analyzing everything so much.
Instead he grabbed her hand tightly, and felt daring as he wrapped his fingers between hers. She didn't seem to notice, but instead followed him blindly. He stopped when they were deep in the middle of the dance floor. It was so hot, and the lights were changing every few seconds and warm bodies were pushing all around them. It would have been too claustrophobic for him to handle if he had been with anyone else. But being there with her made it perfect.
He pulled her into his arms and leaned down so that he could speak into her ear. It was small and perfect and he could actually seem to feel the slight space left between his lips and the indention where it met the curve of her jaw. There was a fine layer of sweat covering her neck. It mesmerized him.
He wanted to taste it.
Her hair smelled faintly of apples and soft strands of it were caught against his face. He probably didn't need to be this close, but she didn't seem to think anything of it.
What was he supposed to be saying? He'd forgotten.
He was babbling on and on and he didn't even know what he was doing here anymore. She was touching him with her fingers, rubbing them over and over against his chest.
How was anyone expected to concentrate under these conditions?
He shouldn't of come here. He shouldn't have bothered her tonight.
"...I'm sorry I had to contact you like this." She was smiling at him. Her eyes were so large, her dimples so sweet. She was beautiful.
She didn't say anything to him, but instead started rubbing her cheek against his shoulder.
A suspicion began in the back of his mind.
"Sydney? Hey, did you hear anything I just said?"
She was laughing, and still she didn't say anything. Great.
"Syd... are you drunk?!" He should of known. How could he not tell? Great. Great. Great.
"Maybe just a little." She was laughing again, like it was so funny that he hadn't noticed.
He was such an idiot!
He couldn't expect her talk about work right now, and he so didn't want to be that guy that took her away from the only fun night she had. He was bigger than that.
"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?"
That was smooth. Wasn't pushy at all. He could still come out of this being a sweetheart. He would just turn around, and walk away.
"Don't leave me! Not yet!" She was touching his arm and her fingers were burning his skin through the fabric. She started rambling something about being there with him and pressing their bodies against each other.
His mouth went dry.
He was sinking fast.
He licked his lips and smiled and tried to play the nice guy. "Sydney, you don't know what you are saying right now, you aren't yourself." He had to touch her, had to feel her cheek and rub his palm against hers. What the hell was he doing?! He had to get out of here.
"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."
That was good. That one should work.
He was losing it.
"Vaughn, I do know what I'm saying. I'm just not scared to say it anymore." She was touching the hair on his neck and he was getting goose bumps. "Please stay with me a little longer. Just one more song, that's all I ask. Please."
He would do anything she wanted him to.
"One more song. I'll stay with you for one more song." What harm could one more song do, anyway?
They were playing a song by Portishead. God, why did have to be such a slow song? It was a dance club for Christ's sake.
He wasn't going to make it.
She was rubbing back and forth against him to the beat, and her fingers were tugging on his belt loop. She was asking for trouble, but he was strong. He could be strong.
But then she kissed him.
He could have stopped her, probably should have stopped her. But he had to know what she was going to do, what was going to happen next.
He didn't stop her.
He kept his eyes open, glued to her as she pressed herself against him, a dead weight against his chest. Her lips were so soft against his, barely touching him.
He couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't believe it.
She was looking at him like she expected more. He wanted to give it to her.
"Be careful what you wish for Sydney, you just might get it."
He wanted to be gentle, but her skin was so soft against his fingers and her eyes were pleading with him and he wanted to taste her so badly.
He went in for the kill.
Her lips were full and silky and his tongue felt rough against them. And then she let him inside and - Oh, God she was wet and hot and tasted of beer and tequila and it was heaven.
He lost it.
He pulled her closer, his fingers dragging through her hair. Her tongue was rubbing against his and he wanted to get closer still and crawl inside her and be like this with her forever.
She was clinging to him and her hands were clenching against his hips and her thighs were brushing against his and the friction was taking his breath away.
Had anyone ever died from kissing?
He couldn't imagine a better way to go.
Her lips were seared to his and the kiss was going on and on. He wanted to toss her over his shoulder and take her home with him. He wanted to strip her clothes off, feel her body, feel her skin against his.
He pictured her in his bed, between his sheets, between her thighs. He wanted to hear her voice as she whispered things to him, told him her secrets, told him how to make her happy.
And he would do anything to make her happy.
God how he loved her.
He pulled back.
What was he doing? He put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her away. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. This was all wrong. He was pressing his advantage, and she was letting him.
He wanted her to come to him when she was lucid and there wasn't alcohol clouding her mind. No matter what happened tomorrow, she was going to regret this. Girls always regretted the things they did when they were drunk. Fact of life.
His mother would be so ashamed of him right now.
He had to get away from her before he did something she would never forgive him for.
"Song's over Sydney."
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He was a moron.
An idiot.
A complete ass.
He had gone against everything his training had taught him, not to mention his own morals.
He had taken advantage of her.
Taken advantage of the situation.
He had to figure out some way to fix this before he called her tomorrow.
There would be no sleep tonight.
