Take a knee, soldier. (khase_fan09) wrote in passion_perfect,
Take a knee, soldier.

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Alias Fic, Rachel/Sydney

Title: Almost Blue
Fandom: Alias
Pairing: Rachel Gibson/Sydney Bristow
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I don't own a thing, I swear. I'm just borrowing for fun. :)
A/N: Title snagged from the wonderful Chet Baker song of the same name. I highly recommend giving it a listen. It's amazing.

Almost Blue

Sydney doesn't expect there to be candles lit all around her living room when she gets home from work. Nor does she expect to hear soft jazz playing over the stereo speakers. She doesn't expect to walk into the kitchen to find Rachel hovering over a pot at the stove, wearing an apron and leaning over slightly with a wooden spoon to her lips. She also doesn't expect the smile that Rachel gives her when the blonde realizes she's standing in the doorway watching her. It almost takes her breath away.

Rachel greets her with a simple and sweet "hey there" before turning back to whatever it is she's cooking, and Sydney can't help making her way over to see just what it is that smells so... heavenly. But Rachel stops her before she can reach the stove. The blonde steps up in front of her, placing a hand on her shoulder to gently halt her footsteps. Sydney fixes the younger woman with a quizzical look.

"Not yet. It's almost done," the blonde tells her. "I didn't think you'd be home so early. I wanted to have it ready by the time you got back."

"You know you didn't have to do all this," Sydney says, feeling a little bit spoiled because Rachel has pretty much been taking care of her ever since she decided to move into Sydney's house.

"Do all what?" Rachel asks, her eyes flicking from the pot simmering away on the stove back to Sydney.

"You're cooking. I saw the candles. And... since when do you listen to jazz?"

"I love to cook, so it's not a big deal. The candles were an after-thought, they relax me. And Chet Baker moves me, always has."

"Still... you didn't have to go to all this trouble."

"No trouble. You should be able to come home and relax without having to worry about cooking or cleaning or looking after me."

"I thought you could take care of yourself." Sydney says this with a knowing smirk. She and Rachel had gotten into many fights over Sydney being too mothering, too protective; fights about how she needed to let Rachel make mistakes and learn from them, both in life and in the field.

"I can take care of myself. But tonight," Rachel says, her hand roaming down Sydney's arm, pausing as her fingers gently wrap around the brunette's elbow, "I want to take care of you."

Sydney's breath catches in her throat upon hearing that. The implications clearly spelled out in Rachel's tone make her heart quicken. Combined with the sudden nearness of the younger woman, Sydney's head begins to fog a little. She can't remember Rachel being this beautiful. Not in a grown-up way. In that "oh, isn't she young and pretty?" way, yes. But never like this. The way Rachel is looking at her now makes her forget about age. Nearly makes her forget her name.

Rachel's hand moves further down, until her fingers twine together with Sydney's, and then the blonde is moving closer. Slowly, until her lips hover just in front of Sydney's. Sydney's breath hitches again, audibly this time, and Rachel moves in for the kill, touching her lips to Sydney's in the lightest of kisses that still manages to leave the older woman confused and breathless and wanting more. But Rachel is already pulling away, walking away from Sydney, walking back to the stove where she picks up the wooden spoon and begins to stir her creation. And she's so nonchalant about it, like she wasn't just kissing Sydney in the middle of the kitchen.

Sydney desperately wants to say something. Needs to say something, but she can't seem to form a coherent sentence to save her life, so she just stays quiet. Keeps her mouth shut and watches Rachel taste whatever sauce she had going one last time before shutting off the stove with a satisfied smile. She turns to face Sydney again after securely placing the lid on the pot, then reaches behind herself and slowly tugs the knot on her apron free, lifts the strap over her head and tosses the apron onto a nearby chair. Sydney has to remember to breathe at the sight hovering just in front of her eyes.

Rachel's wearing a little black dress, simple yet stunning on her tall, elegant frame. It doesn't even come close to reaching her knees, leaving a very generous amount of soft, smooth skin visible, and Sydney has to lick her lips to moisten them. One of the thin shoulder straps of the dress is falling down Rachel's arm, and when the blonde tugs it back up onto her shoulder, Sydney's brain whines in protest.

Rachel looks up at Sydney and smiles, blue-grey eyes shimmering as they meet Sydney's enraptured gaze. The blonde takes a tentative step forward, pausing when she sees Sydney tense a little, the brunette's back and shoulders going rigid. It takes a few moments, but Sydney eventually relaxes again. She wants Rachel to come closer.

"Come here," Sydney says softly, and Rachel obliges.

She steps closer to Sydney and reaches out, her hands finding Sydney's wrists, delicate fingers closing around them as she pulls Sydney tight against her. The brunette gasps as Rachel's arms encircle her, tenses again briefly, unsure if she's ready for what she knows is coming next. When Rachel's lips touch hers again, she knows that she is not. Her legs tremble a little, but Rachel is holding her tight, keeping her upright thankfully.

Rachel kisses slow and sure, like she's been doing this all her life. Her hands are on Sydney's back, one resting just above the brunette's jeans, the other splayed over Sydney's shoulder blade, and Sydney feels oddly safe and secure. Safe enough to just stand there and let Rachel kiss her, in the middle of the kitchen, on a Tuesday night, when they both know Sydney has things she should be doing. Work-related things. None of which seem of any importance now. Not when Rachel's pulling away to look Sydney in the eyes, blue-grey asking a silent question that Sydney is much too eager to answer vocally.

"Yes," she says breathlessly, nodding slowly.

Rachel takes her by the hand then and leads her out of the kitchen, reaching behind her to flick off the light as they pass through the doorway.

Moments later, when they're in the bedroom and Rachel is kissing a warm, wet trail down Sydney's stomach, the brunette realizes that there are candles lit on her nightstand. She hadn't noticed them before, but that's probably only because she was too occupied with trying to get Rachel out of that little black dress she was wearing. Now, though, she realizes that Rachel went to more trouble than she first thought.

The music playing over the stereo speakers is smooth and subtle, lulling Sydney into a daze, making her want to sway. Or maybe that's just because Rachel's touch is so intoxicating, it makes her head swim.

Rachel whispers into her ear, something that sounds like a question, and Sydney has to pull herself from her trance before she realizes that Rachel is actually asking her for permission.

"Let me?" the blonde repeats, trembling fingers poised over the snap on Sydney's jeans.

Sydney nods eagerly, not intent on stopping Rachel now. Stopping her now would be just pointless. She's much too ready for this, much too excited, much too in a daze to even think about asking Rachel to stop what she's doing because, damn, it feels good and Sydney's sure she's never felt this alive before.

Rachel pops the snap on Sydney's jeans and links her fingers through the belt loops, gently tugging the denim off Sydney's hips, sliding them down her long, toned legs. They fall to the floor of Sydney's bedroom with a dull thud. It's finally Rachel's turn to gasp as she stands back and takes in the woman before her. Lying on the bed, in only a black lace bra and matching panties, the light from the candles bathing the entire room in soft flickering light, Sydney is the epitome of beauty. Rachel can't help staring at her for a few long moments, taking it all in. The taut muscles, the little battle scars, the fading and the fresh bruises, the smattering of freckles.

Sydney is starting to get nervous, starting to worry that Rachel is having second thoughts, but then the blonde's hands are on her again, gliding down her sides, thumbs gently grazing her breasts, and Sydney is okay again.

Rachel makes love to her slow and sure, like she's been doing this all her life. She knows what Sydney needs before Sydney does, knows just where to touch, where to kiss, where to let her teeth nip lightly so that it makes Sydney shiver with pleasure. The younger woman's hands are gentle yet firm, one holding Sydney tightly to her while the other moves slowly inside her, coaxing her ever-so-sweetly to the edge of oblivion.

Later, when the candles have put themselves out and the soft jazz playing over the stereo speakers has finally reached its end, Rachel and Sydney lie together in Sydney's big bed, fingers loosely entwined, legs tangled together in a mess of soft skin and sheets that were once crisp and white but that are now just limp and dirty.

Rachel traces an infinite pattern across Sydney's stomach with the tip of her index finger, marveling at how the muscles expand and contract, reacting solely to her touch. Sydney's head is pillowed on her shoulder, dark hair spilling out around her. The only sound in the room now is their breathing, Rachel's slow and even, Sydney's still slightly ragged.

Sydney cranes her neck up when she hears Rachel sigh softly. The younger woman smiles up at Sydney, bringing a hand up to cup her cheek as she guides the brunette forward for a kiss. When Sydney pulls away, she finds herself lost in Rachel's eyes for what seems like the millionth time that night. Those eyes that tell her everything is going to be okay and that she doesn't have to worry anymore because Rachel is there, she's not going anywhere. And looking into them now, Sydney realizes for the first time that they've changed color. They're not the usual hues of blue and grey that Sydney's used to seeing.

No, they're not quite grey. Almost blue.

Tags: alias

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