Chapter Text
5:42 am.
Sidney groaned, shut his phone, and dropped it on the small puddle of scrunched-up clothes he'd left on the floor. He blinked his eyes a few times in the dark room, head swimming as he tried to process the events of the night before.
Ahhhhhh, how badly he just wanted to go back to sleep. But it was Monday, and Monday was a Real People Work Day, not a Still In School Sleep Day. Sidney moaned quietly to himself. Fucking Dinny could sleep in. Fucking Dinny was married and on winter break from art school, so he probably hadn't planned on getting up before 1.
Sidney swung one leg over the edge of the couch and stretched his toes against the cool hardwood floor, letting the cold Boston winter slip its fingers through the cracks of the old building and up to his skin. It was just so much harder to get up in the winter.
Too bad. Duty called, and he couldn't afford to ignore it. It hadn't been easy getting this job in the first place, not with all the travel it required. Employers were unwilling enough to make the required special accommodations to hire an unbonded Guide -- and despite how often the man leered at him, Sidney knew his boss wouldn't be interested in keeping on an Omega who didn't even show up.
So he had to get up.
First, Sidney tried to persuade himself to just stand up straight and face facts, but that seemed unnaturally difficult. Next, he considered sitting up and sort of slowly acclimating to wakefulness, but decided the risk of recidivism was too high. He settled for sliding off of the couch onto the floor like a jellyfish and letting the hardwood do the work for him.
It worked, and as soon as he hit the small rug, it skidded out, delivering him to a floor so cold it felt wet. He scrambled to get his legs under himself. Cold cold cold cold. Where were his socks? Hell, where were his shoes? How much had he had to drink last night?
The room spun a little bit. Sidney blinked at his hands, shrugged the kinks out of his shoulders, and checked his phone again. If he left now, he should make it home by 6:15 - enough time to shower, shave, eat, rifle through his unpacked suitcases to find clothes, finish the report he hadn't written before he'd left last night, and then make it to work at 9. Probably. 9:15 if he hit traffic. 9:30 at the latest.
Sidney staggered around in the dark of Dinny and Justin's apartment for a few minutes, bumping against the breakfast table and bar cart, adjusting the clothes he'd slept in and trying desperately not to knock anything over and wake Justin. Funny how Sentinels always lost their sense of humor when they had to work the early shift.
Sidney finally managed to get himself sorted out enough to pick up his hat, scarf, socks (Dinny had laid them out over the radiator the night before) and coat and tip-toe toward the door, shoes in hand. He felt around to check for his keys - yes, still in his front pocket - and glanced again at his phone.
5:53 am.
Ugh. He was going to have to rush his shower.