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Trust Means Nothing

By Rach

Setting: After Sark started working at SD-6, but before Phase One. And it’s New Year.
Pairing: Syd/Sark
Rating: PG-13
Challenge: Syd & Sark at a holiday party at work, drunken or not is up to you, a one-night attraction :)
Disclaimer: I own nothing, and probably never will!
Note: Alright, you evil wench! I got my first attempt at writing Sark out of the way, and I’m sorry about the lack of smut but you’ll just have to imagine what comes next, okay? :P

“More punch, Miss Bristow?” Sark walked up to Syd with a glass in his hand.

“I didn’t realise you were a waiter tonight, Mr Sark.” She replied, taking the glass before turning back to Dixon.

“I like to do my part to help my agency.” He smiled, and Syd rolled her eyes. “I must admit, I didn’t picture SD-6 to be the kind of agency to hold a New Year party for its employees. Or a party of any sort, to be honest.”

“Well, it helps them to put up a front for the employees who think they just work for a bank,” Dixon explained. “If you’ll excuse me, I need a quick word with Jack.” Syd nodded politely, although being left alone with Sark wasn’t exactly her ideal way to spend New Year.

She turned to him, and forced a smile. “I should probably be going, too … I think my roommate is expecting me back before midnight to see the year in with her.”

Sark smiled, and put down his punch, holding out his hand. “Come now, Sydney. Surely you’ll have at least one dance with me?” Placing her cup on the table, he took her hand, leaning towards her ear. “We need to show solidarity for the minions, now, don’t we?”

Reluctantly taking his hand, Sydney let Sark lead her onto the dance floor. Or what passed for a dance floor at SD-6 – one of the larger conference rooms in the main area of Credit Dauphine with chairs and tables pushed aside. With his arm already around her back, Sark pulled Syd’s hand away from her side and curled his own round it. After a few minutes he felt her relax – she’d obviously realised he wasn’t about to kill her in full few of so many civilians – and she even laid her head down on his shoulder.

As song after song finished and new ones started, the pair remained on the dance floor, until Syd looked up, and led Sark out of the room and into Sloane’s office, which she knew would be deserted. Pulling out a bug-killer and placing it on the desk, Syd turned to Sark.

“You know I don’t remotely trust you, right?”

“Of course,” he nodded.

“Good.” Curling an arm behind Sark’s neck, Sydney pulled his head towards her for a kiss. Using the other hand to pull off his shirt, she then pulled him closer and turned around, leaning him up against the desk.

“Well, Miss Bristow; I always knew you’d want to be the one in charge,” Sark smirked, wiping Sloane’s desk clear of papers and hopping on to it.

“Shut up and kiss me,” Syd breathed.

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