Second Morning

Waking up to sunshine streaming through the curtains was not something Tala was accustomed to. Years of getting up at the crack of dawn had made him a habitually early riser, so when he opened his eyes to find himself in an unfamiliar place, the small bedside clock reading nearly ten o'clock, he was a little confused.

After a few moments he recognised his surroundings; a small, rather quaint room in a tastefully decorated Parisian hotel that he'd been staying in for most of the week. Although he was alone in the bed now, the state of the covers showed that during the night there had been…activity.

Tala bowed his head as the memories came flooding back.

Paris in the springtime; but the situation wasn't nearly that simple. He'd been sent there on a business trip, only to be informed that it would be his last trip with that particular business – they couldn't afford to keep him so they'd sent him to Paris as a peace offering. Understandably, he'd been more than a little put out, as this was the first half-decent job that he'd been able to hold down, so he'd made his way to the first alcohol-serving place he could find.

And he'd bumped into Julia. Julia. Of all the people in all the bars in all the towns in all the countries in the world…Julia. It seemed that fate enjoyed following him around and jumping out at random times, screaming "WOOHOO! COINCIDENCE!" Either that or she was right and he really was subconsciously trailing the circus.

She was in a bad way; her head was in her hands, fingers laced into her hair and from the way her shoulders were trembling, it was obvious that she was finding it hard to fight back the tears.

It turned out that she and Raul had been in a massive argument and now he'd decided to fly back home on his own and was refusing to talk to her. Bad feelings between the twins rarely lasted more than a few hours due to Raul's generally light-hearted disposition, but it seemed that she'd really managed to upset him this time.

He never got to the bottom of what exactly transpired between the siblings, because the moment he walked up to the bar she latched herself onto him, lips moving alarmingly eagerly over his own and her hands in his hair, then creeping under his shirt…

Part of him was quite content with the situation and was loath to disturb the girl's wandering hands, but another part – a quite small part – was having one of those irritating urges that he sometimes got to do the right thing. Besides, if she continued at the rate she was going they were going to get arrested within five minutes. So he pushed her away and asked her what the hell she was doing, and whether she was drunk. When she insisted that she was sober, he asked her twice more (from his experience, he'd learnt that drunks were notoriously inconsistent and usually in denial), and then confirmed with the barkeeper that he'd sold her no alcohol.

"I've had an argument with my brother. A really bad one." she said, voice uncharacteristically soft with a pained undertone, then, softer still, "Please."

He knew what she was asking for. He also knew that it wouldn't make the situation any better – but it would make them feel better.

"I've just lost my job." He admitted, licking his lips and shoving his hands into his pockets. She smiled weakly and linked arms with him.

"Your place or mine?" she asked jokingly, and for a few moments a familiar spark of amusement danced in her eyes. But doubts were still niggling in the back of his head; their strange half-friendship had already nearly been destroyed by the last time they'd done this, leaving them awkward and confused of their feelings, and he wasn't sure how much longer it would hold out.

"Are you sure?" he asked, voice gruff with alien concern.

The sparkle dimmed from her emerald orbs and she nodded, biting her lip and holding his stern gaze. "Yes." Her firm façade faltered for a moment at the uncertainty in his eyes, "Look, if you don't-"

He silenced her with his lips; a short, rough kiss to show her that he craved that particular type of comfort as much as she did. He pulled back, his mouth stopping just by her ear "Mine." He breathed.

Julia's whole face flamed and she took a step back, "What?"

Tala blinked in confusion for a second, before barking with laughter. She'd clearly got the wrong end of the stick.

"I mean, my place, you idiot." He snickered, "Did you really think…?"

Julia did not reply, and he noticed that she'd got that odd, injured look on her face again. He guided her out of the bar with a light touch on the small of her back, and wondered when he'd started being concerned about other people's feelings.

The night had progressed as nights like those were expected to. And here he was now, quite awake but Julia-less, still trying to work out whether or not he regretted what had happened

After all, they'd both consented. It wasn't like last time; 'last time' was after the BBA Annual party, but it was one of those evenings where the alcohol flowed a little too freely, and people danced a little too close together, and there were far too many handy little side-rooms…

It had been rather embarrassing, to say the least, waking up the next morning and finding the half-naked form of someone he'd half-considered a friend curled up with her nose just centimetres from his. Even more so when she'd woken up and found him staring down at her, and then jumped so violently that she'd actually tumbled out of bed, dragging the duvet down with her and exposing…well…everything.

It had been nearly a year since then, and he'd seen her once at the Grangers' Christmas do that he'd been blackmailed into going to. And they'd avoided each other all evening.

Tala stood and wrapped his dressing-gown around himself. He was quite glad that Julia'd left, actually – she must have thought ahead and graciously decided to spare them both the awkwardness of the morning after. Just the thought of meeting her again gave him goosebumps and was making his stomach go all fluttery and-

-And that wasn't good. Tala froze, staring out into space for a few moments, eyes wide in horror of his sudden revelation. Then he shook his head, chuckling at himself. No. No, that couldn't be it. He wasn't falling for Julia, gosh, she was hardly his type.

He stopped again. What was his type?

…Feisty…confident…able to hold her own…hot…

No. Julia was just…well, they'd slept together twice, so he couldn't really call her his friend…she was…

Tala suddenly felt rather sick. He grunted in irritation, rubbed his eyes, swore a few times under his breath then decided to have a shower to help clear his head. Feelings were far too complicated to think about less than five minutes after waking up.

He got as far as the en-suite door when he stopped again. Something…something smelt good. And someone was singing. Loudly. Brows furrowed in confusion, he crept towards the door that would lead to the small kitchen. It was a little ajar, so he poked his head round it.

His eyes widened, his gaze softened, mouth hanging slightly open, and at once he decided this was definitely a scene worth waking up for.

It was like something out of a particularly cheesy romantic comedy; dappled sunlight beamed down on Julia as she danced around the kitchen, a box of eggs in one hand and a wooden spoon in the other, in nothing more than her underwear and one of his old Demolition Boys t-shirts that he'd left in the bottom of his suitcase, singing at the top of her voice to a bubbly song that was playing on the radio.

"And then I saw her face! – Now I'm a believerrr!"

She was bopping and pirouetting, resorting to just humming as she held the spoon in her mouth so she could crack the eggs into a pan. She spun gracefully on one foot in time to the music, depositing the egg shells into the bin, and then her eyes met his.

The look that spread across her face was not the absolute humiliation that he'd anticipated; rather, her features seemed to light up at his very presence. She skipped over to him, taking his hands in hers and leading him into the room.

The spell was broken. His arms went rigid, "I don't dance." He informed her firmly. She giggled.

"Oh, come on, spoilsport! Nobody's watching! Let your hair down."

He still did not move, so she shrugged, happily swaying her hips and swinging his hands in time with the beat.

And…maybe the song was a little more familiar than he'd first thought. It was quite catchy. When he thought about it later, he would blame it entirely on Julia's poor ability to remember lyrics. Honestly, he had to correct her. It was hardly his fault that he happened to know all the words.

It was a few moments before he realised that he was shimmying with Julia in his underwear, and as the very idea mortified him, he switched off his pride and self-respect so he could at least enjoy the guitar solo.

And then her arms were slung around his neck and their noses were touching, and she was laughing and he was singing without even thinking –

"I'm in love – ooooh! I'm a believer, I couldn't leave her if I tried."

Tala didn't even notice that the song was coming to a close, because all of a sudden Julia's face was coming towards his and she was kissing him, but gently this time, and full of affection. She pulled back after a few seconds, beamed at him, then skipped back over to the forgotten frying pan.

"You're in a good mood." He surveyed rather lamely, reeling a little from the adrenaline that was rushing through his veins from all the dancing.

She grinned over her shoulder at him, "I woke up and found loads of messages on my phone from Raul, apologising for storming off. We're going on the same flight again, and he's meeting me at one for a make-up-lunch. So I decided to make victory pancakes!"

"Victory pancakes…" he repeated slowly.

"Mhmm!" she chirped, turning back to her cooking, still humming under her breath.

Tala sat down heavily at the table and rubbed his temples. He was exhausted, unemployed, stuck in Paris with next to no money, and yet he was strangely light-hearted.

His gaze travelled back to Julia, the bold red name Ivanov branded across her back revealed as she swished her hair out of her face. He realised, for the first time, that she really was quite beautiful. He was lucky to be sharing whatever the hell he had with her. He certainly didn't deserve it. Good things in his life were scarce and didn't tend to stay for long.

As she turned around to show him how she could catch the pancake, waves of pure excitement and delight cascading off her and splashing him with their warmth, he hoped that this good thing would be sticking around for a while.