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Seven Nights Down Under	By : SilverSpider Category: +G through L > Gargoyles Views: 1718 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: I do not own Gargoyles, and I do not make any money from these writings.

Chapter List
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- 3
Author's Note: I think morning-afters are more awkward for me to write than for the characters to experience ^^;; This + the first part should give you a good idea how the rest of the fic is going to be organized. Obviously it's a slow build. It'll get more intense as the week goes on. One day down, six more to go! Enjoy and please review!

Day 1
Greetings

Robyn always considered herself well-educated enough to know that sometimes there was nothing wrong with sex just for pleasure if one was not stupid about it. Despite the lack of any serious relationship which was more than a challenge in her line of work, she had had a number of lovers in her life, many on trips such as this one. Most of the time both parties were satisfied and parted ways with no hard feelings or strings attached. But she had never experienced anything like the kind of chemistry she felt with this man.

Her mind was still a little foggy. Not so much from sleep or alcohol – Robyn could drink with the best of them – but from the sheer intensity of the previous night. From a purely outside perspective, the sex was nothing special, except that she was fairly certain she had never come so hard in her life. All from a few hours with a stranger she met at a bar on her first night in Sydney. With the mid-morning sunlight streaming through the moth holes in the room's curtains, she had a chance to better study him as he slept. Nice, she suppressed a smile and the urge to run her fingers along his well-defined abs. She always had been attracted to this kind of unencumbered masculinity but rarely had the chance to enjoy such a find.

A slightly more practical matter distracted her. Just whose room was this exactly? Robyn had a vague memory of wondering how he knew where she was staying when they had made it here last night, but she quickly realized that it was not her room after all. Same hotel. Different room number. What were the odds? Her brows drew together, logic rearing its ugly head when she least wanted it. Why would someone who was clearly native to Australia be staying in a hotel? Robyn did not wonder it further, because the man in question stirred on the bed beside her.

“G'mornin',” his voice was somewhat husky, as he rubbed his eyes with the back of one large hand brushing away the remainder of sleep and looked at her.

Robyn guessed she was supposed to be uncomfortable. The rulebook of one-night stands said that the morning-after was supposed to be awkward, complete with blushes and fluster. She was certainly not a woman who did either, but Robyn did pull a crumpled white sheet off the bed to cover her naked breasts.

“Morning,” she replied. “Have you by chance seen my clothes?”

“An' then some,” he stretched, grinning, and pointed at the trail that started at the door and ended at the foot of the bed.

She got up, pulling the sheet along and letting it trail on the floor behind her, and deftly picked up the articles. Her panties were missing, but she did not have far to look because the man fished them out from under the covers and tossed them to her with a grin. Robyn thanked him courtly and headed for the bathroom. Only when the door was shut and locked behind her did she exhale. What was with her that that smile of his made her want to rush back out there and relive last night all over again? Her libido was supposed to be back to normal in the morning.

Having dressed and washed her face, Robyn decided she was presentable enough to head back out. Harry was also up, but not dressed further than his boxers. He pulled out a clean shirt from the duffel bag he was rummaging through and looked up a little surprised when she reentered.

“That was quick,” he commented.

“My things are back in my room room,” she explained, “and I didn't want to hijack your shower.”

The excuse was a somewhat lame considering the fact that every hotel room came with at least two sets of clean towels and sets of small shampoo bottles that were replaced daily. The contents of his bathroom were virtually identical to hers, but she still preferred to return to her own room. It was moot point to shower if she did not have fresh clothes to change back into. Besides, she did not mid having his scent on her skin for a little while longer.

After a moment, he nodded.

“Look,” he said. “I'm not sure where you're stayin', but I know a little 'bout how this works. I'm gonna hit the shower. If you're not here when I'm out for whatever reason, then thanks for a hell of a night, and I'll be goin' downstairs for some good ol' complementary breakfast. No harm, no foul. But if you decide to stick around, we could get breakfast together and then head out on the town. There's more t' Sydney than bars, clubs, and motel rooms.”

At least by the time he let the shower water run, Dingo had not heard the front door close. He really had no idea whether she would stay, but he sincerely hoped so. It would be interesting to talk to her in the daylight hours, find out what she was doing in that part of Sydney. The bar she had walked into was not exactly a tourist attraction. Besides, there was nothing like the company of a beautiful woman to make a man forget his troubles. He had not enjoyed himself that much in a long time. Some parts of his anatomy remembered just how much, and Dingo cursed as he turned the knob on the shower to cold.

He was disappointed when he emerged to find her gone without so much as a note with a number. Ah, well, he thought, pulling on his jeans. Easy come and so forth. But it was too bad. Maybe it was time for him to move on too. Sydney was not bad, but crowded. Dingo wondered if what he really needed was to get away from people altogether for a while. Clearing his head would be easier without so much noise around.

He promised himself that he would pack the duffel right after he got some food in his stomach and hoped that the heatwave would finally break today as he opened the door. He nearly walked right into her. Robyn, freshly showered herself, wore a turquoise tank top and a loose light colored skirt that ended just above her knees. Suddenly it was not the heat outside he was thinking about.

He wondered how she could have possibly returned so quickly, before it finally clicked.

“You're stayin' here, too,” he accused but did not bother hiding the grin.

“A few doors down,” she waved her hand to the right and adjusted the bag on her shoulder. “Does your offer to play tour guide for the day still stand?”

“Only if you keep me company for breakfast,” he shut the front door behind him.

If there was one thing to be said about hotel complementary breakfasts, it was that there was a lot of it. Containers with scrambled eggs, sausage, bacon, and strands with muffins and bagels were out in the dining area. The entire place was also saturated with the smell of coffee, though it was definitely the least appetizing part. It was nearly ten, and most of the guests had already eaten and set out for the day. The staff was beginning to clean up the food, but Dingo managed to collect a plate-full and some coffee before returning to the table. Robyn sat with her sliced bagel and jam and cup of hot water from which dangled the label of a Lipton packet.

“Not big on the coffee here?” he nodded at the cup.

“I hate coffee,” she replied, dunking the tea bag in a few more times before disposing of it on her napkin. “This isn't the greatest tea in the world either, but it'll do.”

“They drink a lot of tea in Scotland? That's where you're from, right?”

“It's where I was born,” Robyn tried not to smirk too much at his blatant attempt to fish for information. “I've lived in too many places since then to be able to call any one home.”

“I know the feelin',” he nodded. “I jus' got back here a few weeks ago after a good decade or so. Probably more.”

That answered her question about why he was staying at a hotel. “Where were you?”

Oh, let's see. First I spent some years as a mercenary in Central America, switchin' sides whenever pay dictated. Then I actually had a legit gig in the States for a while, as an actor of all things. 'Course it turned out the crew I hooked up with were a bunch o' nut jobs... Yeah, that's the ticket to a lady's heart.

“I worked in the States for a while,” he said simply. Dingo knew he did not look like the type of man to have a respectable corporate job, but if Robyn thought that she did not comment.

“So you're back visiting family?” she asked instead.

“Nah, jus' seein' if the ol' you-can't-go-home-again sayin' is true.”

“And what is your conclusion?”

“Haven't decided yet,” he stuffed a some bacon and eggs into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “What 'bout you? Any family 'side from the brothers?”

“Just the two,” she replied. “I'm in the middle, though sometimes I feel like I'm the oldest.”

“Like you're the only sane one?” she chuckled humorlessly in response. “Yeah, I know that feelin' too.”

They fell into an uncomfortable silence. Obviously the conversation had strayed too far on both ends. Dingo was in no mood to reminisce about his years in the States, and Robyn did not look like she wanted to talk about her family. He decided it was time to steer the conversation to safer waters.

“Anyway, what'd you wanna see in Sydney?” he asked.

Robyn shrugged. “You're the tour guide.”

“Yeah, but did you just come here with nothing in mind? Most people don't exactly take a vacation in a country half the world away without some kinda plan.”

“I'm not most people,” he gave her a look, and she sighed. “Fine. What about the opera house?”

Dingo resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“Everyone wants to see the opera house.” She looked like she was about to yell at him for telling her to pick something and then being unhappy with her choice so he quickly relented. “Tell you what: I'll show it to you in the evenin'. There's a spot with a good view, but it's more interesting after sunset. Meantime, since it's Saturday, let's head over to the Rocks.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Since neither had apparently bothered with a rental, they took the metro to Circular Quay station and walked the rest of the way. The day was hot, but the breeze from the Sydney Cove made the walk up George Street more tolerable. Even before they arrived at the heart of the district, Robyn could tell she would like the place. It was a historic district in a modern city, and for all her technological inclinations, she very much appreciated the past.

Not to mention the open air market place brought out her rare girly side.

She leisurely walked by the stalls, touching the various things on sale. Robyn had seen enough of these sort of markets in Europe not to take it too seriously when the sellers claimed to have the genuine article. She rarely bought anything, but it was fun to look. One particular stall with stone and wooden artifacts modeled after aboriginal originals looked interesting, including a hollowed out painted wooden cylinder about as long as her arm.

“That's a didgeridoo,” her companion who was a step behind her explained. “Well, a miniature o' one anyway. Real ones are much bigger than that.”

“Some kind of,” Robyn picked it up and examined it, “musical instrument?”

“For various native ceremonies,” Dingo nodded. He looked around the stall and pulled out a pendant on a thin leather string. “Here. This might be more your taste.”

He dropped the piece into her open palm, and Robyn rubbed the pad of her thumb over the colorful oval mosaic that was shaped into something that vaguely resembled a snake.

“Does it have any significance?” she asked.

“It's the Rainbow Serpent. Top dog in native myths 'cause he's responsible for water, and thus life. So it's kinda like a lucky charm, I guess. If you're looking for anything half-authentic in the way of a souvenir, that'd be the kinda thing t' get.”

“You believe in that sort of thing?” she teased.

“Nah, not really,” though he did not know if she meant luck or the myth.

Robyn smiled. “I think I'll take it anyway. Who knows; maybe it'll bring us a little rain for luck. A break in this heatwave would be nice.”

She went to pull out her wallet, but he stopped her.

“I got this.”

He handed the saleswoman a note before she even had a chance to object. The woman over the counter gave him back some coins in change all the while smiling brightly at the two of them. Dingo thanked her and turned back to Robyn, who was giving him a look.

“What?”

“You didn't have to do that.”

“What? The necklace? It's a market stall trinket, Sheila, not a four carat platinum. Jus' enjoy and say thanks.”

“Thank you,” she smiled and tied the leather string around her neck. “You still didn't have to.”

They walked around for a few more hours. Dingo told her a little of the district's background, the various festivals it hosted, and what places were worth visiting. They stopped for a late lunch at the G'Day Cafe which had delicious lattes served with a square of dark chocolate on top which melted into brown streaks across the white foam. They were still sitting on the veranda, their plates long removed, when Dingo looked out and realized that the sun had set about an hour ago.

“No rush or anythin' ,” he checked his watch, “but we might wanna head back out soon.”

“Why?”

Robyn had finally relaxed to the point where she completely lost track of time. It was an absolutely wonderful feeling. In the early evening hours even the heat was tolerable so sitting down in the cafe just talking and watching people pass was all she wanted to do at the moment. She resented the idea of having to get up and go somewhere again.

“That view of the opera house I promised,” he reminded her. “Should be just 'bout ready by the time we get there.”

“Alright,” she pushed away from the table with some reluctance. “Where are we going?”

“You'll see,” he grinned coyly. “It's not that far. Let's walk.”
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Seven Nights Down Under