A Ship in Harbor is Safe

Sidney nearly groans as he feels his eyes slowly open. The room is still somewhat dark, with the exception of a bit of light seeping through the sides of the curtains. A pressure on the right side of his body makes him look down slowly, only to see a head of slightly messy blonde hair on his shoulder.

Athena feels Sidney's hand on her back and she slowly opens her eyes. Moving her head up to look at him, she blinks. "How ya feelin'?"

"Really confused."

She smirks, feeling his fingers rub the cotton of her shirt together. "Well, I'm still fully clothed if that's what you're trying to figure out."

He nods, letting her seperate herself from him and climb out of the bed.

"I'll make breakfast, if you wanna go get a shower." Athena yawns and stretches as she walks out of the room.



The silence lingering over the pair continues, even after Athena retreats to the kitchen to do the dishes.

Sidney waits outside the kitchen, listening for the dishwasher to begin or for Athena to exit the kitchen.

Stopping as she walks into the hallway, Athena smirks at Sidney. "What're you doing?"

"I just wanted to apologize for last night --"

She shakes her head, "don't."

Caught off guard, Sidney blinks. "Um... o-okay."

Athena smiles as she shakes her head, “stop feeling bad, Sid. I’ve had worse done to me by drunk guys.”

Sidney’s eyebrows furrow slightly, as the look on his face becomes unreadable. “I have trouble believing that.”

She shrugs, “well, either you don’t hang around Jordan when he drinks, or Pittsburgh’s settling him down.”

His eyebrows remain furrowed as he watches Athena walk into the living room and he slowly shakes his head.

“Sid,” Athena leans over the back of the couch, “you okay?”

He nods quickly, brushing off his thoughts and starts to walk into the living room. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Athena slowly sinks down into the couch, as Sidney takes a seat beside her. She smirks, gently running the back of her hand over his cheek, “maybe we should keep you away from the alcohol?”

Sidney smiles at her, nodding. He groans quietly and leans his head back onto the back of the couch, “yeah, that sounds good right about now.”

“You’re just as bad as I am.”

He shakes his head, “I got carried away last night.”

Athena holds the remote in her lap, ignoring the muted television displaying the Barrett-Jackson Automobile Auction on the same channel that the horrid fishing show played on last night. “You could’ve just said no and he would’ve stopped.”

“Well, that would’ve been rude.”

Caught off guard, Athena quickly shakes her head and looks at Sidney.

“What?”

“That would not have been rude.”

“It’s rude to turn down an invitation in someone else’s house, Athena.” Sidney speaks quietly, looking toward the television.

Athena quickly shuts the television off, feeling the same emotions that plagued her last night rise again. “It’s not like he brewed that shit himself, Sid.”

“That’s not even the point,” Sidney shakes his head.

Athena deposits of the remote on the cushion to her right, quickly getting up to exit the living room.

“Where are you going?”

“I need to take a shower,” Athena doesn’t even turn her head to speak to Sidney. I need to clear my head.



“You’re packing awfully early,” Heather sets her purse on the foot of the bed, watching Jordan retreat back to his closet.

He nods, “yeah… I’m gonna leave early.”

“Oh,” she nods. “Should I pack, too?”

The tall blonde looks up from his suitcase, shaking his head. “Nah. It’s okay.”

Heather crosses her arms. “Am I no longer invited, or something?”

Jordan doesn’t stop walking back to the closet, but clenches his eyes shut as he enters the walk-in room. “No, I just… I need some time to clear my head before camp and season, okay?”

“Take all the time you need,” she grumbles, picking her purse up. “Call me when you decide you’ve taken it.”

Rolling his eyes, Jordan goes back out into the empty bedroom, just in time to hear Heather slam the front door of the house.

“What was that?” Marc opens the bedroom door quickly, without knocking.

Jordan looks up from his suitcase, with a shrug. “Typical Heather.”