Schmoop bingo ficlet: "Chronicles of a Normal Girl"
For the schmoop_bingo "Postage Stamp" challenge, combining the prompts "Making Love," "Wedding - Shower," "Engagement" and "WILD CARD (Coming Home From a Long Trip)". Set pre-series.
"Chronicles of a Normal Girl"
Sydney begins shedding her spy self as soon as her plane begins its descent into LAX. She adjusts her clothes, gets a little more comfortable. When they land, she only turns on her personal phone and checks her voicemail there: questions from Francie about what to wear on her next big date with Charlie, or sheepish invitations from Will, and always, always, a loving welcome from Danny.
By the time she’s in the taxi, she’s no longer Bluebird; she’s Syd. Her returning-home ritual has a new addition: The return of her engagement ring to her finger. Sydney knows she’s got to tell Sloane about it sooner or later - better sooner - but for now, her engagement to Danny is her own sweet secret. SD-6 demands so much information from her, demands that she keep so many secrets from other people; it feels good to reverse directions there, just for a while.
She’ll tell. She’ll make Sloane see that nothing has to change - that she can be a wife and a spy. It’s just a question of compartmentalization. A matter of letting her spy self handle her job, and letting the normal girl out the rest of the time.
Syd comes into her house, and unpacks swiftly, pausing only to rinse a bloodstain out of one blouse before she sends it out to the dry cleaner. They’ve never asked awkward questions, but she never wants them to start.
It’s curiously quiet at Danny’s house. Though his schedule at the hospital is unpredictable, if he can’t welcome her home he usually makes a point of phoning when she’s due in. Francie, Amy and Will also often call. Just as she’s starting to wonder if something’s up, the cordless finally rings.
“Syd! It’s Francie.”
“I know who it is, duh.” Sydney tosses the rest of her clothes (still slightly possessed of the faint but undeniably different smell that comes of spending a lot of time in rural Latin America) into the washer. “What’s going on?”
“Charlie asked his parents to dinner tonight and forgot to tell me.”
“Oh, my God. Can you go to a restaurant?”
“He promised them one of my ‘gourmet meals.’ So I’m trying to whip up some gazpacho and - oh, damn.” From the sound of it, Francie is swearing at her food processor, again. “Listen, I’m totally fried, and I’m not going to be able to make conversation tonight, particularly not if they start up with the grandchildren thing again. So I’m just turning it into a dinner party. Small, because I can only cook so much in an insane hurry, but it’s not actually more trouble to cook for eight than for four. Please say you and Danny can come!”
At that moment, the front door opens; Sydney looks over her shoulder with a broad smile to see Danny (her fiancé, this man is going to be her husband) coming in. “Hang on.” Covering the receiver with one hand, she says, “Hey, sweetheart. Francie wants us for dinner tonight. Are you up for it?”
She expects he’ll say no, after a long shift at the hospital; in fact, she’s hoping he will, because she didn’t get as much sleep as usual on her flight back. Instead, Danny grins. “Sounds great.”
Well, it’ll be good to see Francie and Charlie. Probably awkward to see Will, but the sooner they all get past that, the better. “We’re in! What time?”
After all the plans are made, she goes back into the bedroom, where Danny is stripping off his scrubs. He says, “So what’s on the menu?”
“Gazpacho and - I don’t know what else. She didn’t say.” Sydney gives him a little look, and he chuckles.
“Was I supposed to say no?”
“No, it’s just - I’m tired, and you’re tired.”
“We shouldn’t go to be too early. Throws the schedule right off.”
“I know. I just meant - ” She winds her arms around his now-bare neck. “-by the time we get in, we’ll be too tired to make love. And I missed you.”
“My darling girl.” He starts unfastening her belt. “Have you never heard the song ‘Afternoon Delight’?”
And Danny sings it to her, every word, as they get undressed and laugh through their mutual shower and fall into bed together. She silences him only with her kisses. The late sunlight paints their bedroom golden, and once again Sydney marvels at just how good her normal-girl self has it.
They get ready and make it to Francie’s more or less on time.
“Ten minutes late,” Sydney mutters as they go up the walk, her fiddling with one earring as her pashmina flutters in the breeze, Danny with a gift-bagged bottle of wine in one hand. “That’s not late late, is it?” She measures so many of her deadlines in seconds; her entire concept of “normal late” is sometimes thrown off.
“Not usually, especially as dinner’s being served later,” Danny says. “With Charlie’s parents in attendance? Francie may well already be desperate. But I’m betting not.”
There’s something funny about his smile as he says it. Sydney gives him a look. “What’s going on?”
Just then Francie opens the front door, and everybody she has ever met shouts, “Surprise!”
“Whoa, whoa, what?” Sydney stumbles back, laughing, to lean on Danny’s arm. “It’s not my birthday! Or his!
“But it is your surprise couples’ wedding shower!” Francie says as people start to applaud. “Will you get in here? Nobody’s been able to talk for ten minutes!”
Sydney bounds forward to hug Francie, but she glances back at Danny. “You knew.”
It’s Charlie who explains: “We had to tell one of you. The way your schedules go, there was no chance we could surprise you both and get you both here at the same time.”
Danny shrugs, clearly proud of himself. “Guilty as charged.”
After that, Sydney’s caught up in the frivolity of the evening: a delicious dinner (which actually does involve gazpacho, though not Charlie’s parents), tons of her favorite people, and the sort of clunky-adorable gifts people get at a couples’ shower, like cheese plates and ice buckets. Charlie has put together a romantic-jazz mix for everyone to listen to. Will has either come a long way toward getting over his disappointment or is doing an extra-good job of pretending; either way, that’s a relief. Jet lag seems really far away. SD-6, even farther.
I can do this, Sydney reminds herself, looking around at her friends and the man she loves. Balance everything I need to balance, create the life I need to have. And I don’t have to do it alone.
END
"Chronicles of a Normal Girl"
Sydney begins shedding her spy self as soon as her plane begins its descent into LAX. She adjusts her clothes, gets a little more comfortable. When they land, she only turns on her personal phone and checks her voicemail there: questions from Francie about what to wear on her next big date with Charlie, or sheepish invitations from Will, and always, always, a loving welcome from Danny.
By the time she’s in the taxi, she’s no longer Bluebird; she’s Syd. Her returning-home ritual has a new addition: The return of her engagement ring to her finger. Sydney knows she’s got to tell Sloane about it sooner or later - better sooner - but for now, her engagement to Danny is her own sweet secret. SD-6 demands so much information from her, demands that she keep so many secrets from other people; it feels good to reverse directions there, just for a while.
She’ll tell. She’ll make Sloane see that nothing has to change - that she can be a wife and a spy. It’s just a question of compartmentalization. A matter of letting her spy self handle her job, and letting the normal girl out the rest of the time.
Syd comes into her house, and unpacks swiftly, pausing only to rinse a bloodstain out of one blouse before she sends it out to the dry cleaner. They’ve never asked awkward questions, but she never wants them to start.
It’s curiously quiet at Danny’s house. Though his schedule at the hospital is unpredictable, if he can’t welcome her home he usually makes a point of phoning when she’s due in. Francie, Amy and Will also often call. Just as she’s starting to wonder if something’s up, the cordless finally rings.
“Syd! It’s Francie.”
“I know who it is, duh.” Sydney tosses the rest of her clothes (still slightly possessed of the faint but undeniably different smell that comes of spending a lot of time in rural Latin America) into the washer. “What’s going on?”
“Charlie asked his parents to dinner tonight and forgot to tell me.”
“Oh, my God. Can you go to a restaurant?”
“He promised them one of my ‘gourmet meals.’ So I’m trying to whip up some gazpacho and - oh, damn.” From the sound of it, Francie is swearing at her food processor, again. “Listen, I’m totally fried, and I’m not going to be able to make conversation tonight, particularly not if they start up with the grandchildren thing again. So I’m just turning it into a dinner party. Small, because I can only cook so much in an insane hurry, but it’s not actually more trouble to cook for eight than for four. Please say you and Danny can come!”
At that moment, the front door opens; Sydney looks over her shoulder with a broad smile to see Danny (her fiancé, this man is going to be her husband) coming in. “Hang on.” Covering the receiver with one hand, she says, “Hey, sweetheart. Francie wants us for dinner tonight. Are you up for it?”
She expects he’ll say no, after a long shift at the hospital; in fact, she’s hoping he will, because she didn’t get as much sleep as usual on her flight back. Instead, Danny grins. “Sounds great.”
Well, it’ll be good to see Francie and Charlie. Probably awkward to see Will, but the sooner they all get past that, the better. “We’re in! What time?”
After all the plans are made, she goes back into the bedroom, where Danny is stripping off his scrubs. He says, “So what’s on the menu?”
“Gazpacho and - I don’t know what else. She didn’t say.” Sydney gives him a little look, and he chuckles.
“Was I supposed to say no?”
“No, it’s just - I’m tired, and you’re tired.”
“We shouldn’t go to be too early. Throws the schedule right off.”
“I know. I just meant - ” She winds her arms around his now-bare neck. “-by the time we get in, we’ll be too tired to make love. And I missed you.”
“My darling girl.” He starts unfastening her belt. “Have you never heard the song ‘Afternoon Delight’?”
And Danny sings it to her, every word, as they get undressed and laugh through their mutual shower and fall into bed together. She silences him only with her kisses. The late sunlight paints their bedroom golden, and once again Sydney marvels at just how good her normal-girl self has it.
They get ready and make it to Francie’s more or less on time.
“Ten minutes late,” Sydney mutters as they go up the walk, her fiddling with one earring as her pashmina flutters in the breeze, Danny with a gift-bagged bottle of wine in one hand. “That’s not late late, is it?” She measures so many of her deadlines in seconds; her entire concept of “normal late” is sometimes thrown off.
“Not usually, especially as dinner’s being served later,” Danny says. “With Charlie’s parents in attendance? Francie may well already be desperate. But I’m betting not.”
There’s something funny about his smile as he says it. Sydney gives him a look. “What’s going on?”
Just then Francie opens the front door, and everybody she has ever met shouts, “Surprise!”
“Whoa, whoa, what?” Sydney stumbles back, laughing, to lean on Danny’s arm. “It’s not my birthday! Or his!
“But it is your surprise couples’ wedding shower!” Francie says as people start to applaud. “Will you get in here? Nobody’s been able to talk for ten minutes!”
Sydney bounds forward to hug Francie, but she glances back at Danny. “You knew.”
It’s Charlie who explains: “We had to tell one of you. The way your schedules go, there was no chance we could surprise you both and get you both here at the same time.”
Danny shrugs, clearly proud of himself. “Guilty as charged.”
After that, Sydney’s caught up in the frivolity of the evening: a delicious dinner (which actually does involve gazpacho, though not Charlie’s parents), tons of her favorite people, and the sort of clunky-adorable gifts people get at a couples’ shower, like cheese plates and ice buckets. Charlie has put together a romantic-jazz mix for everyone to listen to. Will has either come a long way toward getting over his disappointment or is doing an extra-good job of pretending; either way, that’s a relief. Jet lag seems really far away. SD-6, even farther.
I can do this, Sydney reminds herself, looking around at her friends and the man she loves. Balance everything I need to balance, create the life I need to have. And I don’t have to do it alone.
END