Title: Cravings
Disclaimer: As if I was cool enough to have thought up "Alias!" I wish!
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Sydney/Sark
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They looked at each other awkwardly. Both knew the gravity of the situation: Now the CIA would think that something was going on between the two agents working for opposite sides.
Sydney spoke first.
"Sark," she started.
But he placed his hand over her mouth, stopping her just as soon as she started.
"I should go," he said, resigned to their now-awkward position. He cursed himself for coming over here in the first place. Now that he was beginning to sober up – and quickly, after the encounter with Weiss – he knew he never should have been so careless in the first place. And just looking at her, with her black lace bra exposing so much skin … He was slowly being ruined by her.
"I guess you should," she said. But somehow, she didn't seem any happier than him. This was the first time she had felt alive since, well, since Vaughn. Since before she disappeared. Since two years ago. And she wasn't keen on seeing this end so quickly. But then again, she also knew that anything with Sark would ultimately be dangerous. Exciting, maybe. But dangerous, definitely.
"Unless …"
She waited, curious. She really wanted the "unless" that he had just uttered, no matter what it was. Even if it was, "Unless I do my job and kill you." The night somehow would seem incomplete and unsatisfactory without a resolution, whether it be sex, death or heartbreak. Or a combination of the three. Of course, her top choice was that things could be less complicated, that he could stay over, just lie next to her.
"Unless what?" she asked.
"Well, I'm thinking that my car is parked right outside, and just a few miles down, there is a lovely four-star hotel on Wilshire where they tend to ask few questions when their regular guest Mr. Sark arrives …"
That sounded so risky, but so right to Sydney. After all, if Eric had already caught them, it may just be time to throw caution to the wind, for one night … or for a lifetime. And after feeling his lips on hers, she was willing to bet this was more than just a one night stand. No one could be that good a liar – even the devious Mr. Sark, she thought.
"You know this could be the end of my career," she said, still feeling a bit drunk from the alcohol combined with his intoxicating touch. She began to rebutton her shirt after picking it up from the floor. The wrinkles actually became her, he thought. Yet as reality set in, he realized he should put his shirt back on as well. She helped him, only making things worse.
"What, you think being with a professed CIA agent and Covenant assassin does wonders for a freelancer such as myself?" he asked.
She looked at him again, sizing him up. Not for the first time. But this time, she was desperate to know if she was about to make the biggest mistake of her life. Or the best mistake of her life …
Impulsively, she grabbed his hand, leading him back to the door where she had been so surprised by his entry, less than an hour before. He really had changed everything, she thought. And perhaps for the better.
He didn't ask questions. Not this time, when a beautiful – oh, just how so beautiful she could never really comprehend – woman was leading him out the door. Aggressive and in charge. He liked that. For once, he didn't have to be making all of the decisions. At 24, that was too much pressure to deal with all of the time.
After shutting the door behind them, Sydney saw his convertible waiting in the driveway.
"Nice ride," she said, admiring the sleek, silver BMW M3.
"It's a rental," he said, shrugging it off. "Hardly compares to the ones I've got back at home."
Home? She didn't think a man like him even had a home.
But soon, she would find out. And the thought excited her to no end.