#i've never written for sandie before so hopefully her characterization is okay

[ace-of-clubs-and-diamonds]

Perfect Stranger

Which was better – running off somewhere with a stranger like they had, or being left behind as an afterthought?

Rating: Mature, SFW Fandom: Last Night in Soho 2021 Pairing: Sandie Collins x GN!Reader Word count: 4.4K Content warnings: Alcohol consumption, some overstimulation (not the sexy kind), angst, fluff, making out, Reader is an anxious emotional mess because so am I AO3 Link: Here

Author’s Note: Heyyyyy first fic of 2023! I haven’t written anything substantial in a few months, so I figured, why not write something super self-indulgent to get back into the swing of things? I don’t see Sandie from Last Night in Soho getting much attention. But I love her. So this happened! I wrote this for myself and that shows in the reader’s behavior, but of course anyone can read this. For those of you who do, I hope you enjoy! Let’s go.

The club was blisteringly, overwhelmingly alive. An assault on every sense at once.

Jazzy music blared throughout the club, half-drowning out the loud chatter and shrill laughter of the other patrons. The sounds of glasses clinking and shoes tapping against the floor as people danced somehow managed to pierce through the noise and straight to your ringing eardrums. It was warm. Unbearably warm from the heat of crowded, moving bodies. There was already a fine sheen of sweat coating your skin and sticking to your clothes. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat and slid your hands against the cold exterior of your glass.

The cheer and raucousness was infectious, spreading from person to person like a disease of laughter and mirth.

But you remained untouched.

If anything, the joyous crowd only made you feel more alone.

You took a sip of your drink. It was still blessedly cool.

That was something, at least.

A nearby woman cackled with laughter at something her companion said. Someone grazed your back as they passed. You went stiff. Everything was vibrating inside of you. Your skin was too tight, too close, every little sensation was making it shrink further, making it harder to breathe.

Why did you even agree to come here in the first place?

Your friends probably wouldn’t notice if you left anyway. Sure, they were the ones who’d convinced you to dress in your best clothes and tag along. But they’d disappeared to dance with some pretty strangers a while ago. You hadn’t seen them since.

Had they forgotten about you?

The thought that made your heart dip.

They couldn’t have… could they?

Wait a little longer. See if they come back. They probably hadn’t forgotten you, they were just a bit occupied and had lost track of time having fun. Surely. Surely you could wait a little longer. Sit here and listen to the music and people and laughter and the squeak of shoes and rustle of beads and clicking of ice against glass and… the feel of your clothes sticking to your body as you roasted like a turkey… and tried very hard not to focus on the pounding in your head…

Your chest felt too small for your lungs.

“A tequila sunrise please.” The polished voice came from your left, and it came from startlingly close as an arm brushed your side.

You jerked at the sudden contact. The air left your body as every nerve jittered and screeched. With every noise and texture and bright light and melancholy thought ringing through your head, the words formed instant and bitter on your tongue – “Do you FUCKING mind? Can’t a bitch get some personal fucking space here?”

You snapped your head towards the patron next to you.

And immediately snapped it back shut. The words died on your tongue.

The most ethereal woman you had ever seen stared back at you. All sharp cheekbones and big brown doe eyes and blonde hair styled in a perfect up-do. Her dress was made of crimson beading that swayed and glittered with every movement, with a deep red lipstick to match. Even just the way she held herself was so inhumanly graceful. Even just raising a hand to brush a strand of hair out of the way, even just shifting her gaze to meet yours, was done with a wraithlike poise and grace.

You blinked at her.

“Sorry about that,” she said smoothly. She said it with such slick ease that coming from anyone else, it would’ve felt fake. But the look on her face was so openly sincere, you couldn’t help but believe her.

The blistering frustration quickly shriveled into nothing. Instead, a tinge of shame blossomed in your chest for getting so furious at a stranger over something so small.

“Nono, it’s fine, it’s totally fine,” you quickly assured her. You barely stopped yourself from apologizing to her instead. I’m sorry I’m such a bitch. My friends left me to go dance and probably fuck with strangers, and I wasn’t expected to run into YOU. I’m feeling deeply inadequate and lonely right now. Please don’t mind me.

She arched a perfectly plucked eyebrow at you. And looked at you – really looked at you – in a way that made you feel like a bug pinned to a board.

The shame rose.

“Sorry, I…” You trailed off. You weren’t even sure what you wanted to say.

Silence fell between you two.

She was a stranger to you. You were a stranger to her. You were two perfectly random strangers who had happened to bump into each other on a Friday night in a club that was practically busting at the seams with people. It did not matter that your skin felt too tight for your body. It did not matter that your chest was too tight for your lungs. It did not matter that you felt deeply, terrifyingly alone in that very moment. It did not matter that you felt inexplicably drawn to her, as if she was a lifeline cast out into the sea of people.

She was a complete stranger.

She had no obligation towards you.

Was a pretty face all it took to make your head spin? Really? Were you that desperate?

“Here you go, Miss.” The bartender slid the bright orange drink across the counter towards her. She grabbed it with nimble fingers, shot him a half-smirk and a “Thanks”, and made to move away.

Your heart hollowed. Faced with the utter loneliness in the blistering hell of the club, you squeezed your eyes shut and drew in a shaky breath. This was a mistake this was such a fucking mistake –

“Sandie.”

You startled, head snapping up to meet her gaze. She was, again, unexpectedly close to you. And, again, staring at you with an almost unnerving intensity.

Your mind whirled. “Huh?”

“Sandie,” she repeated. “My name is Sandie.”

She was talking to you. She had sat down next to you. She seemed intent on engaging you. A stranger.

Her name was Sandie.

You managed to get your own name out. She tilted her head slightly, thoughtfully, before taking a sip of her drink and speaking again.

“So.” Sandie propped her head against her hand, a casual gesture rendered oddly graceful. “What brings you to the café?”

“Um.” You fiddled with your drink as you tried to sort out your own thoughts. Relief and confusion warred inside of you. Your isolation had been so sharp that you’d internally begged her to stay, to take an interest in you. And now that she had… you couldn’t help but wonder why. Why you, of all people? “Well. My friends wanted to come here. And they convinced me to come too. Uh. They wanted to let loose and have some fun. I mean, it is a Friday night, after all. Perfect time for it, right?”

“Everyone else certainly seems to think so.” She cast a critical eye towards the dancing and laughing crowd, releasing you from her intensity for just a moment. You drew in a shaky, nervous breath.. Then she turned back to you, pinning you again. “So where are your friends?”

Ah. Yeah.

That.

You swallowed past the little lump that had formed in your throat. “They’re…” They were out doing God knows what with a bunch of strangers after tossing you away at the first convenience. As if you were nothing more than a candy wrapper, a formality. “They’re somewhere. Dancing. Probably.”

You twisted around, scanning the crowd for their faces or a flash of a familiar color. Surely, they were somewhere…

…How long had you been sitting here?

“Ahhh.”

You turned back to her, frowning. “What?” She had a knowing look on her face all of a sudden.

She took another delicate sip from her drink. How did she manage to make every little motion and gesture look so effortlessly graceful?

“Let me guess. They’re off pursuing boys and left you here all alone.”

You flinched. Well, when she said it aloud like that…

It really was quite sad and pathetic, wasn’t it? You could see the pity shining in her eyes. It grated against something inside of you.

What did you even want at this point?

You tore your gaze from her. There were too many emotions broiling inside you to recognize. Everything was just… too much. The music and laughter suddenly seemed so much louder, so much more grating, clawing against your eardrums and your brain.

“I don’t want your pity,” you said through gritted teeth.

“I’m not giving you my pity,” she said, tone sharp as a knife.

A tingle crept up your spine as you caught a glimpse of something else behind the pretty, polished exterior. Something that gave you pause, something that made your heart beat a little faster.

…Maybe you’d been wrong. Maybe it hadn’t been pity in her eyes. Maybe it had been something else, something closer to the thoughtful, calculated gleam that shone there now. Or even if it had been pity, there was no trace of it there now.

“I’m offering you a way out of here. Unless you think your friends are coming back.”

Uncertainty settled low in your gut.

Did you? Did you really think they’d come back? And if they did… how long would it take?

Which was better – running off somewhere with a stranger like they had, or being left behind as an afterthought?

“Okay.” The word left out your mouth before you could overthink it.

Sandie’s painted-red lips curved upward. “Well then.” She offered a hand, fingers unfurling. “Shall we?”

You paused. Just for a moment.

Fuck it.

You took her hand.

What else was there to do?

A flash of a smile was all you caught before she pulled you off the barstool with far more strength than you’d been expecting. Your heart flew into your throat as you left your half-finished drinks behind. Your mind whirled with worries and what-ifs. What if your friends came back what if this went terribly wrong what if you were setting yourself up for disappointment–?

The two of you wove through the crowd. Ducked whirling dancers and thrown out arms and people who didn’t bother to look where they were going. A few elbows and hands managed to bump into you, sending a startled spike of adrenaline through your nerves. Sandie, on the other hand, seemed almost untouchable, gliding past people effortlessly as the crowd seemed to part for her.

She hauled you through the crowd, past the dance floor, up the stairs. You caught a glimpse of your reflections along the mirrored walls, meeting your own wide-eyed gaze.

And then, in the blink of an eye, you were outside. Bursting through the doors of the club, out of the suffocating warmness and ceaseless noise and into the wet, cool night. The drum of falling rain swallowed the noise of Soho. The glow of lights and neon signs was diffused by the torrent, and the people were scarce, scurrying to and fro under umbrellas and coats and seeking shelter in any shop or restaurant they could find.

The cold rain was a balm against your heated, sticky skin. Every ounce of tension melted from your body. Unable to resist, you closed your eyes and tipped your head back. Rain streamed down your face, down your scalp and neck and against your eyelids. You soaked in the chill and the white noise. And the strange feeling of freedom that replaced the weight on your shoulders. You felt like you could breathe again.

God.

It was sheer bliss.

You felt a tug on your arm and opened your eyes. Sandie was smiling. In a way that was different than in the club – wider and freer and… genuine. But with that knowing look that had been there before.

“Come on,” she shouted over the rain. “I’m going to take you someplace better.”

“Where?”

“You’ll see!”

She tugged on your arm again, and you followed, picking up speed to match her near-run. Alarm bells went off in your head – it was raining and dark and wet, what if you slipped? But she maneuvered you with the same ease she had in the club, as if she knew every step to a dance you weren’t privy to.

She shot a glance back at you, her expression filled with playful delight. It was infectious, and you found yourself grinning back at her, a laugh threatening to escape you. You ran down the sidewalks, splashing through puddles and giggling together like a couple of children playing in the rain.

You felt so damn free.

What was it about her, about this person you’d met maybe ten minutes ago, that made you want to grow wings and fly through the streets? What was it about her that made you feel like you were doing that exact thing right now?

A chance encounter. That’s all it had been. An unusual chance encounter.

But it had quickly become… something else entirely. It wasn’t necessarily unwelcome.

She stopped with no warning. You nearly crashed right into her, the beads of her dress rustling as you did so. It looked like a dress of blood in the dark, each strand of beads moving and glittering like falling rivulets.

She was… really pretty.

Sandie half-turned to meet your gaze. You were far closer than was appropriate, and you quickly stepped back. Warmth unfurled in your cheeks.

“Here we are,” she said.

You frowned. You didn’t see a sign of any kind. Hidden perhaps by the darkness. But a warm glow emanated from the large window in front of you. A counter, loaves of bread and various desserts, black and white tile floors and pastel pink walls…

“Where’s here?”

She didn’t quite answer. Instead, she slid her hand to your upper arm, leaving a trail of warmth in her wake. “Someplace special.”

Sandie guided you inside. A bell chimed as the door swung open, and you were hit by the warmth of the place compared to the icy rain outside. Unlike the club, which had been warm in a sticky, oppressive way, this place was warm like a hug welcoming you in. The smell of fresh bread and butter and cinnamon flooded your senses. There were only a few people here – two people behind the counter and a young man sitting alone in the corner, reading a newspaper and eating a cinnamon roll. Sandie shot him a strange look, eyes narrowing and lip curling just barely. A half-formed question was stopped short when she looked back to you, expression suddenly serene and confident.

Once again, you were struck by just how stunning she was. Even with her hair sticking to her neck and exposed shoulders, even with her makeup starting to run a bit. And how confident she was, as if she knew how she looked and how people – you – reacted to her.

You nervously smoothed your own clothes down. You were sure you looked like a drowned animal in comparison. The warmth of the place only made you more aware of how soaked you were, and how you were dripping rain all over the shiny floors. You winced.

Well, that was certainly the downside to getting wet. The wetness.

“Sandie! Is that you girl?” the 50-something woman behind the counter asked. “You’re going to catch your death running out in the rain like that.” She squinted disapprovingly at you two. You shied under her unfamiliar gaze, but Sandie seemed completely undeterred.

“Oh I can handle the sniffles for a few days.” Sandie pushed a wet strand of hair out of her face and gave the woman a confident smirk. “It would be the least of my problems.”

You frowned. What did that mean?

“It’d make your problems a lot worse,” the woman countered.

Sandie gave a delicate half-shrug, as if to say, Oh well.

The woman’s stern expression shifted to you, then. You fought to keep from fidgeting uncomfortably or shrinking further under her gaze. Though the hand still on your arm soothed you, somewhat. More than it should have, really.

“Who’s your friend?”

Sandie introduced you with the confidence and ease of introducing a long-time acquaintance. It sent a spark of warmth through your insides. “We met at the Café de Paris and decided it wasn’t quite our crowd tonight. Thought it would be better here.”

The woman snorted. “Well I’m no Café de Paris, but you’re perfectly welcome. Especially in this weather.” Her expression softened, just slightly, “What can I get for you two?”

Sandie turned to you. “Any requests?” she asked coyly.

“Um.” Act normal for once goddammit. You glanced at the rows of breads and pastries on display. French loaves, cinnamon rolls, croissants, scones, tarts, pies, cupcakes, cream puffs, things you didn’t know the names of and things you didn’t even recognize – there were so many options, and they all had your mouth watering. “I… don’t know. There’s a lot to choose from…”

“Alright then.” She eyed the display. “How about something simple, then?” She paused. “A cupcake?”

“Sure.” Couldn’t really go wrong with a cupcake.

The woman nodded and gestured to the younger person beside her. They grabbed a couple of cupcakes, Sandie dug around the small handbag she’d been carrying and paid, and you retrieved your treats. The older woman plugged the money into a cash register as you bit into your cupcake.

Soft, warm, sweet. Just a cupcake. Nothing fancy. But perfectly comforting nonetheless.

“Well? What do you think?” Sandie raised her eyebrows at you expectantly. A little hopefully, even. You got the distinct sense that she really, really wanted you to like this place.

And… you did. You felt calmer more at ease. The pounding in your head and buzzing in your veins had faded almost completely. Running through the rain, going to a bakery, spending time with a pretty girl. Such quiet, ordinary things compared to the glitzy, hellish ostentatiousness of the Café de Paris. Small and soothing and more intimate. It was exactly what you’d needed.

And somehow, she had known it.

Just by looking at you and talking to you for a few minutes.

“It’s… it’s perfect.” You hesitated, heart rate picking up, before gently, cautiously placing your free hand on her arm, just as she’d done before. She didn’t shy away, didn’t shrug you off. If anything, she seemed to lean towards you, just a little bit. Just enough that you questioned whether you’d imagined it.

Your face grew warm despite yourself. “Thank you for bringing me here,” you said quickly. “It’s nice. Really nice, actually.”

The beads of Sandie’s dress rustled as she shifted a little, leaned in just a little bit more. You definitely weren’t imagining that. “I thought you could use a change of scenery. You looked like you’d rather be anywhere else in the world.”

Ohhh wonderful. You had been obvious, hadn’t you?

“How did you know?” you asked hesitantly.

“I’ve been there. Different circumstances but… I recognized the look on your face. I’ve seen it the mirror quite a bit myself.” A delicate shrug. A concerning seriousness to her expression.

You were again reminded that she was a stranger. Someone you knew nothing about. You had no idea who she really was, no idea what she’d been through or experienced.

And yet she had dragged you out of your little hell and run through the rain with you and brought you here.

You tried to ignore the emotion fluttering inside your chest.

“Well… thank you. Again. I really appreciate it.”

“Don’t thank me yet. I have one other place I want to take you.”

“Where?”

She discarded her cupcake wrapper into a small trash bin, and exchanged a quick thank you and goodbye with the woman behind the counter.

Then you were back out in the freezing cold rain. The warmth of the bakery evaporated in an instant. A stab of regret went through your heart – why did you have to leave, it was so warm and nice in there – but quickly vanished as the rush of freedom and caress of rain returned. You ran through the streets, giggling and casting glances at each other. With most people cooped up inside to escape the downpour, it was as if you two were the only ones in the world.

It certainly felt that way. If the nervous flurry of your heart was anything to go by.

Sandie came to a sudden stop, dragging you into a covered doorway and pressing you against the old wooden door. Your pulse skyrocketed, cheeks flaring with heat as her gaze bore into you. Unable to bear her intensity, you scrambled for something else to stare at, fixing your gaze over her shoulder long enough to see that the colorful neon lights and glowing display windows had shifted into a quieter, more residential area. There wasn’t another soul in sight.

She planted a hand on the door, just by your shoulder. Half-trapping you in, even as her other hand delicately held yours. Your gaze, inevitably, wandered back to her.

She looked at you through her eyelashes. A faint blush had spread over her cheeks, and her rain-disheveled hair and slightly-smudged makeup made her seem just a little bit wilder. That hidden something peeked back out behind the curtain. Something just a little bit dangerous, a little bit strangely morbid. A thrill went up your spine at the thought.

“Don’t tell me,” she said, slightly out of breath, “that I’m imagining things.”

“Wh–”

Her fingers curled under your chin, her grip firm but delicate. Forcing you to hold her gaze as your heart hammered so loud you were sure she could hear it.

“And don’t you dare think that I haven’t noticed.”

Your mind whirled, unable to land on a coherent thought. “Noticed what?”

“You. And how you’ve been looking at me.”

Oh.

Oh shit.

“I’m so sorry,” you blurted. “I didn’t mean to be creepy or anything, you’ve just been so nice and–” And beautiful and stunning and unreal and gorgeous and genuine and actually made an effort for me when so many others haven’t and I just feel some kind of connect–

“Stop.” Two fingers pressed against your lips to silence you. Your thoughts came to an immediate, screeching halt. “I’ve been looked at quite a lot, believe me. You weren’t creepy.” Her gaze flickered down to where her fingers met your lips, and her voice softened. “You weren’t anything of the sort.”

If you burned any hotter, you were going to burst into flames. From embarrassment or something else… you weren’t sure.

She looked down at your lips again, her own parting slightly. She leaned in.

The doorway and the nighttime rain offered a veil to hide you from prying eyes.

Her lips met the corner of your mouth. Gentle, feather-light. More of a slow, lingering brush of skin than a proper kiss. But it stole your breath anyway, made you freeze where you stood as your heart thundered in your ears.

You couldn’t have moved if you wanted to.

Not that you wanted to be anywhere else in the world but here, now, with her breath caressing your lips and the faint scent of sweet perfume enveloping your senses.

She leaned back, just a little, enough to peer at your face and gauge your reaction. Almost by accident, your hands flew out and caught her waist. Keeping her in place. An apology was half-formed on your tongue before you’d even finished the motion. But it withered at her sudden inhale and her hands cupping your face.

She was warm. Warm warm warm, a beacon of warmth and light and something dangerously alluring.

A tiny smile graced her lips. “There you are. Isn’t that better?”

You had to agree. Not that you were really given a chance to, because she was already leaning in again. Your eyes fluttered shut as you met her this time.

Soft and warm. Her lipstick just a little tacky from wear and rain. She moved her mouth against yours, as if wordlessly murmuring against your skin, and you were powerless to do anything but follow her lead. Her hands gently cradled your face. Your own fingers curled into the beaded strings of her dress.

You felt dizzy. Deliciously, pleasantly dizzy.

She was addicting.

Sandie tilted her head, just a little, changing the angle and deepening the kiss. You readily let her tongue press into you, let her slowly, sweetly explore you. She tasted like the icing of the cupcakes you had gotten, as well as something else, something barely-there but stronger and richer.

You whimpered a little. If you hadn’t been pressed against the door and desperately holding onto her, you would’ve collapsed by now. You were certain.

She broke the kiss long enough to hush you. You shivered again and pulled her in tighter, enclosing her in your arms as much as you could. Warm fingers slid from your cheek down to your neck. Her thumbs brushed your jaw.

You had just met her. But your head was spinning enough that, for a moment, you really thought you might be in love with her.

Calm down. Take a breath. Breathe. Don’t do something stupid and weird her out.

Sandie tilted her head, examining your face. She pursed her lips slightly. “I have a feeling you think too much.”

An awkward laugh escaped you. “Yeah… you could say that.”

“Well.” She paused, as if thinking over her next words. “This is where I live.” She nodded to the door behind you. “Unless you have somewhere else to be… you could always come in for a while.”

Your stomach fluttered at the invitation. She knew very well that you had nowhere else to be. That’s why she’d grabbed you in the first place. You had zero obligations to the friends who’d abandoned you for their own pretty strangers. And you had a strange feeling that if you said no, you would part ways and never see her again. It was an odd, uneasy feeling that crept up your spine to your neck.

But if you said yes…

You debated. And then you decided.

You were the one to lean in this time, to capture her lips in a kiss and make her sigh against you. It made you stomach twist itself into knots, made your heart stutter. Made you take in a nervous breath when you parted.

“I think that would be nice, actually,” you said softly.

Sandie smiled. Beautiful and genuine and with just an edge of hesitant hopefulness. The only sign of hesitance you’d seen from her all night. Your heart nearly burst out of your chest and into her hands right there and then.

A chance with the perfect stranger you’d met at the club.

Just a chance.