A Friend in Need
Pairing: Sydney/Weiss
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2,599
Notes: Bubbleficathon fic, and lordy me, this one was hard work! For jadekitten01, who wanted either Syd/Weiss or Remus/Tonks, and a bar of soap. And I truly do hope that the numerous mentions of water in this fic qualify it as bubblefic, otherwise I’ve been a bad, bad writer!
“I have no hot water.”
It’s not so much the words that make me take a step back as the look on Syd’s face when she says them. The last time I saw her looking like that, she was kicking seven shades of blue out of someone who came after her with a knife, and knowing full well the kind of damage she’s able to inflict, I’m not into taking any chances. Of course, surprise could have a lot to do with the step back as well, because those aren’t the kind of words that you expected to be greeted with when you answer your front door.
“Hello to you, Syd,” I say, taking another step back to clear a pathway for her – because again, would you like to be the person who got in the way of Sydney Bristow when she’s in a snit like this?
Thought not.
She doesn’t move though, nor does she show any hints of wanting guilt. “I have no hot water,” she repeats, her tone of anger softening to one of confusion, almost pathos. “Why do I have no hot water?”
I tilt my head, before craning my neck out so that I can see across the courtyard. Which is when I remember. “Oh yeah… there was some kind of pipe thing… someone put a note in the mailboxes… didn’t you get one?”
“I got one,” she says, and she doesn’t look happy about it. “But I thought they’d have it fixed by the time I got back.”
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling; giving in to that impulse would be the very definition of red rag to a bull. “And they don’t?”
“They don’t.” She crosses her arms over her chest, tilting her head at me, unmistakeably winsome. “Do you have hot water?”
Because the note said that only the far side – her side – of the courtyard was affected; don’t ask me why, but I’m willing to bet that’s one contractor who won’t be getting any more work any time soon. My side of the courtyard though, remains mercifully unaffected, so I have all the hot water I want.
But of course, she read the note, so she knows that.
And from the little grin that’s appearing on her face right now, she knows I know that.
Knowing that, I cross my arms over my chest, mimicking her posture exactly. “Oh, so that’s it, is it?” I ask, pretending offence. “You only want me for my hot water?”
There’s a long pause before she answers, and I can literally see her trying to decide how best to go about this; does she lie, hoping to spare my feelings and shine me on, or does she go for honesty, knowing I know the truth anyway?
Then she grins, and I know that honesty is forthcoming. “Today? Yes.”
I laugh out loud at her words, shaking my head and stepping back to let her in, waving an arm for emphasis. “Fine… fine…” I mutter. “At least I know where I stand…”
She’s laughing too, even if she has the
grace to look apologetic. “You know it’s not like that Eric,” she says, and to
be fair, I do. “It’s just that I’ve spent the last three days in
“And you’ve got no hot water.”
“And I’ve got no hot water.” We’re in my living room by now, she’s looking right at me, and I swear to God, she actually bats her eyelashes.
“Say no more Syd,” I hear myself saying. “My hot water is your hot water.”
The smile that comes across her face, the way her eyes light up as she literally claps her hands together with glee, is reminiscent of the way she looked when she found the copy of “Alice in Wonderland” that I left on her desk, and I realise what she’s going to do a second before she does it. So I’m ready when she launches herself at me, throwing her arms around my neck, and I hold onto her tightly, relishing the feel of her in my arms. The hug is over all too quickly for my liking though, and much as I might like to pretend that the flush on her cheeks is as a result of the hug, I know it’s because she’s embarrassed about reacting so strongly to the promise of a hot bath.
She steps away from me, and it looks like
she’s about to say something, until, that is, a third party enters the
conversation. Alan, big dopey mutt that he is, has evidently heard
Eventually, we get the big dumb mutt to
calm down, and I hold onto him by the collar, scratching in between his ears.
“Sorry,” I say, and
“Don’t worry about it,” she says, looking at Alan, not at me. “I’ve been missing you… haven’t I, boy?” Alan licks her cheek again, as if he can understand her, and she pulls away, wrinkling her nose. “OK, now I really do need that hot water.”
I smile at her, pointing in the direction of the bathroom, not that she needs direction. Even if she hadn’t been here on more than one occasion, these are cookie-cutter homes, the layout of my place exactly the same as hers. “You know where everything is,” I tell her. “Let me just get you some clean towels…” I give Alan a glare, pointing my finger at him in instruction to stay, and Syd’s hand moves over, one resting on his back, the other scratching between his ears. If I didn’t know better, I’d say the dog is grinning – and really, who could blame him? – and any second now, he’s going to roll over and get her to scratch his stomach.
Yep, there he goes.
And there I go to the linen closet, finding the good towels before making my way back to Sydney, who accepts them from me as if I was presenting her with gold and diamonds. “Water’s ready to go,” I tell her. “And I don’t have any of those fancy bubble things that I know you like…”
She shakes her head, holding up one hand “Believe me, soap and water will do me fine,” she says.
“Well, that I can do.”
“Thanks Eric,” she says, bestowing that beaming smile on me again, before leaning forward to brush a kiss across my cheek. “I really appreciate this.”
I don’t say anything as she waltzes away
from me, too stunned for words, her kiss burning into my skin, and it’s only
when the bathroom door closes behind her that I come back to myself, looking
down at Alan to see him also staring after
“You and me both buddy,” I say, patting his head before making my way to the kitchen.
I should point out, at this point, that there is nothing going on between Syd and me. Not that I wouldn’t like there to be something going on; obviously, I would. But she’s my best friend’s girl – ok, technically, she’s my best friend’s ex-girl, but even so, there are some lines you just don’t cross, especially when you’re just waiting for the star-crossed lovers to get back together again.
Which I know they’re going to; after all, they always do.
Besides, we’re not like that. We’re friends, just friends, and if there’s one thing that I know, it’s that I’m one of the few people left that she can really talk to, be honest with. She’s told me that, in various levels of inebriation, and I honestly believe it. Which is why, no matter what I feel, I know nothing can ever happen between us - there’s no way I’m going to screw us up.
Then of course, there’s the fact that she doesn’t think of me that way. I’m just her co-worker, her friend, Mike’s friend, and that’s all there is to it.
So I shouldn’t waste my time thinking about what could be between the two of us. There’s no point. And I absolutely shouldn’t be thinking of her in my bathroom. In my tub. Using my hot water. Thoughts of what she looks like should not be going through my mind. Not going there.
Except I realise that I’m standing in my living room, staring at the bathroom door, and I’m absolutely going there.
Shaking my head, I turn, patting my leg to get Alan to follow me. Based on the fact that his tongue is still hanging out – who says dogs don’t grow to resemble their owners? – I fill his bowl with water, taking a long cold drink myself. A long cold shower would be better, but Syd’s in the bathroom and… nope, still not going there.
“Eric?” Her voice behind me makes me jump, nearly dropping the glass, and she’s talking as I turn, her tone embarrassed. “Sorry,” she continues, “But there’s no soap…”
Frankly, I’m amazed that I can concentrate on what she’s saying, because I’m too busy fixating on how she looks. Not that Syd ever looks anything other than amazing, but at the moment, she’s especially noteworthy.
She obviously discovered the soap shortage after disrobing – and nope, still not going there, much – because she’s wearing my robe.
My ratty, blue, terry-cloth bathrobe that I’ve had for a hundred years.
The one I bought before I lost all the weight, the one that now swims on me.
And if it swims on me, you can imagine what it does on that little frame of hers.
The tie is pulled tight around her middle, but even that can’t disguise how the material could wrap twice around her, could do so comfortably. Her hands vanish into the sleeves, and the end of the robe falls to mid-calf. Her cheeks flush as she sees me staring at her, flush deepening as she reaches up to pull the left shoulder, which is slipping slightly, back up again.
“It’s a little big,” she says, giving me
that
“So I see.”
She smiles again, then tilts her head. “So… soap?” she asks, and I’m galvanised into action, turning to the cupboards, trying frantically to remember just which one the soap is in. Eventually I do, crossing to it and rummaging through the contents. When I find it, I straighten up, turning towards her, and I jump again, because she’s standing right behind me. I hadn’t even heard her move, and I remind myself again about how stealthy she is.
“Soap,” I say, holding it up as evidence. “Sorry it’s nothing fancy… just your common supermarket brand…” I hear myself babbling and I’d really like to stop it, but all my self-control is being used up on not grabbing her and pulling her into my arms, because the woman looks damn good in my robe.
“Eric.” Her voice is firm, but gentle, and when I focus on her, there’s a smile playing around her lips. “It’s fine.” She takes the soap from my hands then, nimble fingers making short work of the wrapping, but she doesn’t step back, and I can’t move, so we just stay where we are.
“Do you… ah… do you have everything you need?” I ask, having to clear my throat a couple of times before I can actually speak, and she nods.
“Everything’s perfect,” she tells me, her voice soft as she meets my gaze, and I swallow hard at the look I see in her eyes.
I have to be imagining things, right? No way is Sydney Bristow looking at me like that.
What I’m not imagining is how she steps towards me, so close that her arms, drawn up against her chest, brush against the fabric of my shirt. The contact sends a jolt of electricity through me, and I swear to God, her smile gets wider, brighter. “I really do appreciate this, Eric,” she tells me, and I nod.
“Good…good.” I notice that the robe is slipping, and my hand, acting completely independently of my brain, moves to pull it back up. Which is when things get really weird, because her eyes flutter shut, and she lets out a little sigh, like she’s been dreaming about this too, like she’s wanted this as much as I do. Maybe it’s that that makes my hand linger on her shoulder, feeling the heat of her skin even through the terry-cloth, and she tilts her head, looks up at me through heavy-lidded eyes. “Syd…” I begin, a thousand questions running through my mind, but her eyes open fully, and she shakes her head.
“Don’t,” she says, a word that has my heart sinking into my socks, only for it to rise again seconds later when her free hand rests over my chest and she raises her lips to mine.
I return the kiss with gusto because even if I’m not quite sure what the hell’s going on here, this is something that I’ve wanted for a very long time, and if she pulls back and tells me that this is a mistake, that we can’t do this, then at least I’ll have had this moment, where Sydney Bristow looked at me like I was the only man in the world and kissed me like I was.
When she pulls back, her hands on my shoulders, my hands on her waist, I’m expecting to say those words, expecting her to break my heart. Instead, her eyes dance with mischief, her lips twitching, and she whispers, “Well… it’s about time we did that.”
I agree whole-heartedly, but I don’t say that. Instead, I blink in confusion. “Excuse me?” She giggles, and I continue, “Not to look a gift horse in the mouth or anything… but… excuse me?”
She shakes her head, steps away from me and slides her hand into mine. “Come on,” she says. “I’m sure there’s room for two.”
“
“Eric…” That same little smile is still playing around her lips, and suddenly I know exactly what she’s going to say, and I can’t believe she’s done this. I could say the words with her, but I enjoy hearing them from her lips even more, store them away to savour. “My hot water’s working fine.”
I allow the words a second to settle in my mind, in my heart, then I allow my own smile to spread across my face. “Well then,” I say, squeezing her hand. “Let’s check out mine.”