Title: Hands of Fate
Author: Steph (ILUVNYYANK@aol.com)
Category: Romance/Humor/Bit of romantic drama
Pairings: Sydney/Vaughn
POV: Alternates between Sydney POV and Vaughn POV
Summary: Sydney and Vaughn find themselves spending Valentine's Day "together" in a most unconventional way.
Rating: PG
Archive: Sure, just let me know where.
Spoilers: Nope.
Disclaimer: Alias and its characters do not belong tome. I do this out of a love for the show and no infringement is intended.
Note: Part 2 is written and being edited. It will be posted sometime in the next couple of days. Hope you enjoy it and please let me know what you thought! ~Steph
* * * Hands of Fate: Part 1/2* * *
~Sydney's POV~
"Francie," I whine, "I'm not going out to dinner with you and Charlie tonight."
Francie shakes her head at me in a scolding manner, "If you think I am going to leave you here all alone on Valentine's Day, Syd, then you're crazy."
I smile, "It's very sweet of you to want to include me, but the last thing I want to be is a third wheel on Valentine's Day of all days."
"Syd, Charlie and I don't mind. Don't even think of it like it's Valentine's Day. Pretend that it's any other day of the year and the three of us are just sharing a nice dinner together."
"And I should just ignore all of those couples who will be surrounding us, looking oh-so-in-love and drooling over each other?"
"We'll buy you blinders. You know, like racing horses wear."
I chuckle, "Oh, so now I'm a horse."
Francie gently swats my arm, "You know what I mean!"
My laughter subsides and my tone turns serious. "I really do appreciate the offer, Francie, but it would just be too hard for me. This is my first Valentine's Day without Danny and...I guess I'd just rather be by myself."
"Sydney-..." Francie begins, her tone soft and comforting.
I force a smile, "No, really, I'll be fine. I have a bottle of wine, a carton of ice cream and a stack of Brad Pitt movies that are calling my name. Just go enjoy yourself."
Francie eyes me thoughtfully. "You're sure?"
I nod, "Yeah, I'll be fine."
Francie sighs and then nods in defeat. "Okay, fine. But promise me you won't watch any of those depressing romantic comedies."
I smile, "I promise."
"I'm serious, Syd. No 'Sleepless in Seattle', 'Pretty Woman' or 'Bridget Jones' Diary'. They'll only make you sad. Stick to Brad's movies. 'Seven', 'Fight Club'. Anything with blood and Brad looking hot will do."
I laugh, as I gently push my friend towards her bedroom, "Come on, you have to get ready. Charlie won't wait forever."
I sigh, as I turn back around and look at the lonely living room that will be my date tonight.
I miss Danny, but there's something more gnawing at me.
There's a man out there who makes my heart race and stirs up emotions in me I thought I'd never feel again...Stirs up new, exciting emotions.
There's a man out there I can't have.
* * * *
~Vaughn's POV~
I hate Valentine's Day.
I really do. I think it is a stupid holiday that was invented by florists, candy makers and jewelers for the sole purpose of making money.
There shouldn't be one day set aside to show how much you love someone. If you love that person, then everyday should be Valentine's Day.
Great. Now I sound like a Hallmark Card. I went from Valentine's Day rebel to mushy, annoying guy in a whole two seconds.
I remember last Valentine's Day with Alice. I made a reservation at her favorite French restaurant.
I promised I'd meet her there. But, as usual, I got caught up at work.
By the time I got there, she was gone.
I think that was the beginning of the end for us. Or maybe it ended before it ever really began.
I never loved Alice, no matter how much I try to convince myself I did.
If I did, then everyday would have felt like Valentine's Day. As it is, with Alice, Valentine's Day didn't even feel like Valentine's Day.
But with Sydney...It's different.
With Sydney-...
My thoughts are interrupted by Weiss walking into my office and coming to stand in front of my desk.
"It's 7:00 pm on Valentine's Day, man. What are you still doing here?"
I look up at him. "I could ask the same of you."
He shrugs, "My girlfriend had to work."
I laugh, "Oh, so now it only takes one date to be declared your girlfriend. It used to be two. It's nice to know you set such high standards."
Weiss grins, "She's a stripper, Vaughn. What would you do?"
I smile and shake my head. "What's her name again? Basil? Thyme?"
"Ginger," Weiss replies, his present contempt for me barely concealed by his tone.
I offer him a grin, "Tell her to say hi to the Professor and Maryanne for me, will ya?"
Weiss rolls his eyes, "Yeah, I'm sure she's never heard that one before."
I shrug, fairly pleased with my lame joke.
"Come on, let's go get a drink at O'Rileys."
I shake my head, "No, thanks, I'll pass. I'd rather not try to forget that I am all alone on Valentine's Day by getting stinkin' drunk and then having you throw up on me."
"So you have better plans?"
I nod, "As a matter of fact, I do."
He narrows his eyes at me. "Let me guess. Michael Vaughn has a fun-filled night ahead of him, complete with sitting in his boxers and ripped Kings t-shirt he insists is not a rag-in-waiting, while eating pizza, drinking beer, and watching 'A Wedding Story' on TLC."
I force my lips not to curl into a smile. "I don't watch 'A Wedding Story."
"Who are you trying to kid? Every time you get like this, you watch that damn show. I saw you once, remember? You cried over that couple whose house burnt down and lifesavings was stolen."
"They overcame incredible obstacles to be together," I reply absentmindedly.
Weiss groans, "Come on, man. Could you be anymore predictable? Mr. Spontaneity you're not."
"I'll have you know I plan on eating Chinese food, not pizza tonight. And I also plan on eating my fortune cookie *before* I eat the entrees."
Weiss pretends to be impressed, "Really?...While you're at it, why don't you throw caution to the wind and not recycle those beers cans you drink tonight."
I fix him with a glare. "Shut up."
He raises his hands in mock surrender. "Fine, go drown your sorrows In Chinese food and female television programs. If you're lucky, maybe it'll take your mind off Sydney for half-a-second."
I open my mouth to respond, but he's gone before I can come up with a halfway decent rebuttal.
How did he know?
How could he not know?
I groan, as I place a hand to the bridge of my nose and squeeze my eyes shut.
I hate Valentine's Day.
* * * *
~Sydney's POV~
An hour and a half later, I am sitting on the couch in my sweats, eating Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough ice cream right out of the carton.
I am watching 'Runaway Bride'.
I know, I know. Why do I insist on torturing myself?
If Francie knew, she would admonish me to no end. But I couldn't help myself. I was just flipping through the channels when I came across it.
And now I sit here, tears falling into my ice cream as I watch Julia Roberts and Richard Gere declare their love for each other.
I hate Julia Roberts.
Okay, let me amend that. I love Julia Roberts. I think she's a wonderful actress. She was amazing in 'Erin Brockovich'.
I just hate that she always gets the guy (except for that one time in 'My Best Friend's Wedding').
It's just so unrealistic. You can't always get what you want.
I've learned that the hard way.
I knew I should have watched 'Fight Club' instead.
I look disdainfully at my ice cream, which is now getting watery from my tears, and sneer at it.
I just sneered at ice cream. Could I be any more pathetic?
In a moment of defiance, I drop my spoon into the carton and roughly wipe the tears off of my cheeks with the back of my hand.
I will not be *that* girl.
You know what I'm talking about. The girl who sits home all alone, feeling sorry for herself and hoping that the cold from the ice cream will somehow numb the pain.
I refuse to be *that* girl.
I am better than that.
I am stronger than that.
Damn it, I kick ass for a living!
I quickly get up off the couch, practically throwing the carton onto the coffee table and then picking up the remote to click off the television with a vengeance.
I will not be *that* girl.
I am going out tonight. I am getting all dressed up and I am going out to dinner alone.
That's right. Alone.
I don't need a man to feel secure in who I am. I am an independent, strong woman.
Surely, I can handle eating all by myself in a restaurant on Valentine's Day.
Can't I?
* * * *
~Vaughn's POV~
An hour and a half later, I am sitting on my couch in my boxers and comfortable, lived-in Kings t-shirt, eating Chinese food, drinking beer and watching 'A Wedding Story' on TLC.
Okay, so maybe I am a tad predictable. And sad.
Damn Weiss.
I really tried not to watch 'A Wedding Story', but I couldn't help myself. It was a special Valentine's Day edition.
This couple had met during a terrible circumstances and it had taken them years to find their way to each other.
Hm. Nope, doesn't remind me of anything at all.
I wonder what Sydney's doing right now?
Damn it! I promised myself I wouldn't think of her tonight.
It's just so hard not to when I look at this bride in her gown waiting to get married. I just keep picturing how beautiful Sydney would look on her wedding day.
Okay, so I'm picturing how beautiful Sydney would look on *our* wedding day.
I shake my head in disgust and glare at my Lo Mein.
I just glared at Lo Mein. Could I be any more pathetic?
I drop my fork into the carton and ply a piece of carrot off of my chin.
I will not be *that* guy.
You know what I'm talking about. The guy who sits home all alone feeling sorry for himself, hoping that the alcohol will somehow make the loneliness vanish.
I refuse to be *that* guy.
I am better than that.
I am stronger than that.
Damn it, I handle a girl who kicks ass for a living!
I practically jump off the couch, dropping the carton onto the coffee table and brandishing the remote like a sword before clicking off the television.
I will not be *that* guy.
I am going out tonight. I am putting on some nice clothes and I am going out to dinner alone.
That's right. Alone.
I don't need a woman to prove my manhood. I am a powerful, strong man.
Surely, I can handle eating all by myself in a restaurant on Valentine's Day.
Can't I?
* * * *
~Sydney's POV~
I slowly enter the restaurant, my eyes scanning the sea of faces. I smartly chose a very informal restaurant.
It's actually a restaurant/karaoke bar. I figured it would be easier this way. The place is still crawling with couples, but at least they aren't looking deeply into each other's eyes and caressing their hands across the table, while they sip on glasses of champagne.
No. Here, they engage in brief make-out sessions and hands rub thighs under the table, while chugging mugs of beer in between.
I don't really know why I thought that would be better, but somehow it is.
Maybe it's because none of the couples look like they'll make it to the end of the year and that's comforting to me.
I find a table close to the back and sit down. A waitress in her mid-fifties with a bad blond dye job comes to my table and offers me a less-than-enthusiastic greeting.
"Hi, I'm Margie and I'll be your server tonight. Would you like to order a drink while you wait for your dinner companion?"
I resist the urge to tell 'Margie' where she can stick her close-minded assumption.
I simply smile and reply as sweetly as possible, "Actually, I'll be dining alone tonight."
Her penciled-in eyebrows arch in surprise. She responds slowly, "Okay...um...Would you like to order a drink now then?"
"Yes, a beer, please."
She nods and then walks away. I'm not usually a beer drinker, I prefer wine, but I figure if I'm looking to be a little bold today then I might as well change that too.
I pick up the menu and begin to peruse it. However, my attention is soon pulled away by a voice to my right. I look up and into the face of a very handsome man around my age.
He's got short, curly brown hair and a sparkling smile. I return the smile.
Hm...maybe something good will come out of this. I bet he could take my thoughts off my situation and Vaughn for a little bit.
"Hi," I say.
His smile widens, "Hi." Oh, good sign. He continues on, "Sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you needed this other chair?"
My face falls and I briefly consider kicking him in the gut for asking such a question. I also consider paying the first guy I see on the street to pretend to be my date, just so I won't give this guy the satisfaction of knowing I don't need that chair.
Unfortunately, neither one of those options seems plausible.
I force a smile, "No, go ahead and take it."
His smile widens even more. Geez, how many teeth does this guy have?
"Thanks," he replies, before walking away with my chair and leaving me with just the one I'm sitting in.
Damn. Now I can't even pretend I'm waiting for my date. At least if I got stood up, I could get some pity stares.
Listen to me. I actually want pity stares, rather than just face up to the fact that I came here alone.
Okay, maybe I can't do this.
* * * *
~Vaughn's POV~
I enter the restaurant/karaoke bar, my gaze jumping from couple to couple. My lips turn downward.
I thought this would be better than one of those fancy-schmancy restaurants where the couples seem to put on a show for those surrounding them.
I think I was wrong, as I look at all of these young couples practically glued to each other.
I suddenly feel like the over-the-hill, been-in-college-for-eight-years RA who just walked in on a dorm floor party.
Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.
Against my protesting brain, I find a table and sit down.
A waitress with far too much makeup on and a bad perm approaches my table. She speaks like she'd rather be anywhere else on earth at the moment.
"Hi, I'm Margie, I'll be your server tonight. Would you like to order a drink while you wait for your dinner companion?"
I resist the urge to yank her hair so hard it loses it curl for making such an assumption.
I plaster on a smile, "Actually, I'll be dining alone tonight."
She arches her brow and shakes her head. She mutters, "What's going on tonight?"
"I'm sorry?"
"Nothing. Would you like to order a drink then?"
I nod, "Yes...Can I have a white wine?"
She arches her brow at me again. Damn judgmental waitress.
What? A man can't eat alone and order wine for himself?
I'm trying to be different today. Bold. Unpredictable. Mr. Spontaneity.
A beer is what the old Michael Vaughn would order. The new one wants a damn white wine.
She stops looking at me like I have two heads and walks away.
I pick up the menu and begin to scan it. However, my attention is soon pulled away by a female voice to my left.
I look up and into the face of a pretty woman, a bit younger than me.
She has long, blonde hair and bright blue eyes.
Hm. Maybe this won't be so bad after all. I bet she could take my mind off Sydney for a little bit.
"Hi," I say, flashing her what I hope to be a debonair grin.
She smiles widely, "Hi." I've still got it. She goes on, "Sorry to bother you, but would you mind switching tables with us? My boyfriend doesn't like to be so close to the karaoke stage."
My smile fades and I have to suppress my urge to tell her where her wussy boyfriend can go. I briefly consider making up an excuse, like I have sensitive eardrums or something, just so I won't have to give into her.
Unfortunately, neither one of those options seems reasonable.
I plaster a smile on my face and get up, "No, of course not."
Her smile grows, "Thanks."
I follow her to her table and plop down into the chair.
Great. Now I can be alone and right in front of a bunch of tone-deaf amateurs, who will undoubtedly be judging me.
Okay, maybe I can't do this.
* * * *
~Sydney's POV~
I take a small sip of my beer and force it down. I really don't care for beer.
I sigh, as my eyes again scan the young couples in the room. I am seriously starting to feel old. I have to fight the urge not to throw my beer at this couple next to me, who have practically swallowed each other's heads.
Seriously, I think the guy can actually unhinge his jaw, like a snake or something.
I groan, my gaze continuing around the room.
Couple. Couple. Couple. Couple. Vaughn. Couple. Cou-...
Whoa. Wait a minute. Back it up. Rewind.
Vaughn?
What the hell is he doing here?
And why is he alone?
He doesn't see me. He's too busy studying his menu. Or pretending to study his menu, as the case seems to be.
There's like six items on the menu. It only take about two minutes to read it and decide what you want.
Trust me, I timed it.
And then I pretended to study the menu.
My gaze remains focused on him. Damn, he looks good.
He's wearing a pair of nice khakis and a dark blue button down shirt that's open a couple of buttons. His hair's styled a bit more than usual and I find my fingers twitching with the urge to run them through it.
He looks so comfortable in those clothes.
Don't get me wrong. I love Work Vaughn. I love Jogging Vaughn.
I mean, I don't love them...him. I love how they...he looks...when-...
Oh, you know what I mean!
But tonight he looks different. Amazing, really.
He looks like he should be walking along the beach on some tropical island.
And I should be walking right next to him, hand in hand.
Okay, I took that hypothetical scenario a bit too far.
What is he doing here?
This is not good.
* * * *
~Vaughn's POV~
I've been pretending to read my menu for fifteen minutes now, which is really quite ridiculous because there are only six items on it.
I'm just not exactly sure what I'm supposed to do after I put the menu down.
I could drink my white wine, if I didn't think it tasted like crap.
I could play with my cocktail napkin, if I were five and had some crayons.
I could read the carvings in the old, dark wood of my table, if I hadn't already done that and decided to stop after the sixth message with 'your mama' in it.
I guess I could people-watch. Sure, I'll feel stupid, but no more so than I did reading my menu for fifteen minutes.
Plus, I've always been good at people-watching. I'm quite the observer. It comes in handy as a CIA agent.
I look over at the couple to my left and roll my eyes. The woman hasn't shut up since I sat down and her date seems to have fallen into a coma.
Can you be in a coma and still have your eyes open? Judging by this guy, I'd have to say yes.
My eyes continue to scan the crowd of young couples 'in love.' And by 'in love' I mean 'unable to keep their hands off each other'.
Disgusting couple. Boring couple. Mushy couple. Sydney. Kinky coup-...
Whoa. Not so fast. Reverse.
Sydney?
What the hell is she doing here?
And why is she alone?
She doesn't see me. She's too busy looking into her beer, like there's something extremely fascinating floating at the bottom of it. Or maybe she's pretending to look into her beer, because, let's face it, there's nothing much to see.
My eyes remain focused on her. Damn, she looks good.
She's wearing a short, bright red silk dress with spaghetti straps. I can see her long, shapely legs crossed under the table and I have to swallow hard.
Her hair is down and fuller than usual. It's got a bit of a bounce to it that I am not used to seeing on her.
She looks absolutely beautiful tonight. So natural.
Don't get me wrong. I love Casual Sydney. I love Kick-Ass-Disguised Sydney.
Not love as in *love* But love as in...you know...love as in...
Well, it really doesn't matter.
Tonight, she just looks different. Amazing, actually.
She looks like she should be dancing the tango at some Latin club.
And I should be her partner, pulling her close to me and inhaling the scent that is uniquely hers.
Okay, took that hypothetical scenario a bit too far.
What is she doing here?
This is not good.
* * * *
~Sydney's POV~
He noticed me. He's staring at me.
I'm pretending to find my beer incredibly interesting right now.
I wish the beer companies put little prizes at the bottom of these things. Then I wouldn't look so stupid. I'd actually have a purpose. They could take a cue from the cereal companies.
I'm really trying not to look up and meet his eyes.
What would be the point? It's not like I could say, 'hey, come on over here and we can talk'.
Which is exactly what I'd like to do. But, no, doing that would be against protocol, put our jobs and lives at risk...blah, blah, blah.
I am really trying not to meet his eyes, but it is so hard. He's seven tables away, a fair distance actually, and I still feel like his piercing gaze could burn holes into my forehead.
I can't suppress the urge to connect with those amazing green eyes of his and abruptly lift my head up.
My gaze meets his and I could swear that there's a flicker in his eyes when it does.
A flicker of some emotion. Anger? Happiness? Desire?
I couldn't tell, but I know it was there.
To my surprise, his lips curl into a heart-stopping smile.
I can't help but return it.
He shrugs his shoulders in a 'what are the odds?' manner and I shake my head.
What are the odds?
Or maybe this is fate at work.
* * * *
~Vaughn's POV~
She finally met my gaze and when she did, I noticed she wasn't surprised to see me. She must have noticed me first.
When our eyes met, I could have sworn I saw a spark of something in her eyes.
What was it? Annoyance? Joy? Longing?
I couldn't tell, but I know it was there.
I can't stop myself from flashing her a smile.
She has the amazing ability to pull a smile out of me when I have absolutely no intention of giving into that urge.
To my surprise, she returns the smile with one that makes my palms sweaty and causes me to ponder if my deodorant is also an anti-perspirant.
I shrug, hoping to convey 'what are the odds?' to her and she shakes her head.
What are the odds?
Or maybe a force greater than probability is at work here.
* * * * * *
TBC...Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed it and please let me know what you thought! ~Steph
Author: Steph (ILUVNYYANK@aol.com)
Category: Romance/Humor/Bit of romantic drama
Pairings: Sydney/Vaughn
POV: Alternates between Sydney POV and Vaughn POV
Summary: Sydney and Vaughn find themselves spending Valentine's Day "together" in a most unconventional way.
Rating: PG
Archive: Sure, just let me know where.
Spoilers: Nope.
Disclaimer: Alias and its characters do not belong tome. I do this out of a love for the show and no infringement is intended.
Note: Part 2 is written and being edited. It will be posted sometime in the next couple of days. Hope you enjoy it and please let me know what you thought! ~Steph
* * * Hands of Fate: Part 1/2* * *
~Sydney's POV~
"Francie," I whine, "I'm not going out to dinner with you and Charlie tonight."
Francie shakes her head at me in a scolding manner, "If you think I am going to leave you here all alone on Valentine's Day, Syd, then you're crazy."
I smile, "It's very sweet of you to want to include me, but the last thing I want to be is a third wheel on Valentine's Day of all days."
"Syd, Charlie and I don't mind. Don't even think of it like it's Valentine's Day. Pretend that it's any other day of the year and the three of us are just sharing a nice dinner together."
"And I should just ignore all of those couples who will be surrounding us, looking oh-so-in-love and drooling over each other?"
"We'll buy you blinders. You know, like racing horses wear."
I chuckle, "Oh, so now I'm a horse."
Francie gently swats my arm, "You know what I mean!"
My laughter subsides and my tone turns serious. "I really do appreciate the offer, Francie, but it would just be too hard for me. This is my first Valentine's Day without Danny and...I guess I'd just rather be by myself."
"Sydney-..." Francie begins, her tone soft and comforting.
I force a smile, "No, really, I'll be fine. I have a bottle of wine, a carton of ice cream and a stack of Brad Pitt movies that are calling my name. Just go enjoy yourself."
Francie eyes me thoughtfully. "You're sure?"
I nod, "Yeah, I'll be fine."
Francie sighs and then nods in defeat. "Okay, fine. But promise me you won't watch any of those depressing romantic comedies."
I smile, "I promise."
"I'm serious, Syd. No 'Sleepless in Seattle', 'Pretty Woman' or 'Bridget Jones' Diary'. They'll only make you sad. Stick to Brad's movies. 'Seven', 'Fight Club'. Anything with blood and Brad looking hot will do."
I laugh, as I gently push my friend towards her bedroom, "Come on, you have to get ready. Charlie won't wait forever."
I sigh, as I turn back around and look at the lonely living room that will be my date tonight.
I miss Danny, but there's something more gnawing at me.
There's a man out there who makes my heart race and stirs up emotions in me I thought I'd never feel again...Stirs up new, exciting emotions.
There's a man out there I can't have.
* * * *
~Vaughn's POV~
I hate Valentine's Day.
I really do. I think it is a stupid holiday that was invented by florists, candy makers and jewelers for the sole purpose of making money.
There shouldn't be one day set aside to show how much you love someone. If you love that person, then everyday should be Valentine's Day.
Great. Now I sound like a Hallmark Card. I went from Valentine's Day rebel to mushy, annoying guy in a whole two seconds.
I remember last Valentine's Day with Alice. I made a reservation at her favorite French restaurant.
I promised I'd meet her there. But, as usual, I got caught up at work.
By the time I got there, she was gone.
I think that was the beginning of the end for us. Or maybe it ended before it ever really began.
I never loved Alice, no matter how much I try to convince myself I did.
If I did, then everyday would have felt like Valentine's Day. As it is, with Alice, Valentine's Day didn't even feel like Valentine's Day.
But with Sydney...It's different.
With Sydney-...
My thoughts are interrupted by Weiss walking into my office and coming to stand in front of my desk.
"It's 7:00 pm on Valentine's Day, man. What are you still doing here?"
I look up at him. "I could ask the same of you."
He shrugs, "My girlfriend had to work."
I laugh, "Oh, so now it only takes one date to be declared your girlfriend. It used to be two. It's nice to know you set such high standards."
Weiss grins, "She's a stripper, Vaughn. What would you do?"
I smile and shake my head. "What's her name again? Basil? Thyme?"
"Ginger," Weiss replies, his present contempt for me barely concealed by his tone.
I offer him a grin, "Tell her to say hi to the Professor and Maryanne for me, will ya?"
Weiss rolls his eyes, "Yeah, I'm sure she's never heard that one before."
I shrug, fairly pleased with my lame joke.
"Come on, let's go get a drink at O'Rileys."
I shake my head, "No, thanks, I'll pass. I'd rather not try to forget that I am all alone on Valentine's Day by getting stinkin' drunk and then having you throw up on me."
"So you have better plans?"
I nod, "As a matter of fact, I do."
He narrows his eyes at me. "Let me guess. Michael Vaughn has a fun-filled night ahead of him, complete with sitting in his boxers and ripped Kings t-shirt he insists is not a rag-in-waiting, while eating pizza, drinking beer, and watching 'A Wedding Story' on TLC."
I force my lips not to curl into a smile. "I don't watch 'A Wedding Story."
"Who are you trying to kid? Every time you get like this, you watch that damn show. I saw you once, remember? You cried over that couple whose house burnt down and lifesavings was stolen."
"They overcame incredible obstacles to be together," I reply absentmindedly.
Weiss groans, "Come on, man. Could you be anymore predictable? Mr. Spontaneity you're not."
"I'll have you know I plan on eating Chinese food, not pizza tonight. And I also plan on eating my fortune cookie *before* I eat the entrees."
Weiss pretends to be impressed, "Really?...While you're at it, why don't you throw caution to the wind and not recycle those beers cans you drink tonight."
I fix him with a glare. "Shut up."
He raises his hands in mock surrender. "Fine, go drown your sorrows In Chinese food and female television programs. If you're lucky, maybe it'll take your mind off Sydney for half-a-second."
I open my mouth to respond, but he's gone before I can come up with a halfway decent rebuttal.
How did he know?
How could he not know?
I groan, as I place a hand to the bridge of my nose and squeeze my eyes shut.
I hate Valentine's Day.
* * * *
~Sydney's POV~
An hour and a half later, I am sitting on the couch in my sweats, eating Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough ice cream right out of the carton.
I am watching 'Runaway Bride'.
I know, I know. Why do I insist on torturing myself?
If Francie knew, she would admonish me to no end. But I couldn't help myself. I was just flipping through the channels when I came across it.
And now I sit here, tears falling into my ice cream as I watch Julia Roberts and Richard Gere declare their love for each other.
I hate Julia Roberts.
Okay, let me amend that. I love Julia Roberts. I think she's a wonderful actress. She was amazing in 'Erin Brockovich'.
I just hate that she always gets the guy (except for that one time in 'My Best Friend's Wedding').
It's just so unrealistic. You can't always get what you want.
I've learned that the hard way.
I knew I should have watched 'Fight Club' instead.
I look disdainfully at my ice cream, which is now getting watery from my tears, and sneer at it.
I just sneered at ice cream. Could I be any more pathetic?
In a moment of defiance, I drop my spoon into the carton and roughly wipe the tears off of my cheeks with the back of my hand.
I will not be *that* girl.
You know what I'm talking about. The girl who sits home all alone, feeling sorry for herself and hoping that the cold from the ice cream will somehow numb the pain.
I refuse to be *that* girl.
I am better than that.
I am stronger than that.
Damn it, I kick ass for a living!
I quickly get up off the couch, practically throwing the carton onto the coffee table and then picking up the remote to click off the television with a vengeance.
I will not be *that* girl.
I am going out tonight. I am getting all dressed up and I am going out to dinner alone.
That's right. Alone.
I don't need a man to feel secure in who I am. I am an independent, strong woman.
Surely, I can handle eating all by myself in a restaurant on Valentine's Day.
Can't I?
* * * *
~Vaughn's POV~
An hour and a half later, I am sitting on my couch in my boxers and comfortable, lived-in Kings t-shirt, eating Chinese food, drinking beer and watching 'A Wedding Story' on TLC.
Okay, so maybe I am a tad predictable. And sad.
Damn Weiss.
I really tried not to watch 'A Wedding Story', but I couldn't help myself. It was a special Valentine's Day edition.
This couple had met during a terrible circumstances and it had taken them years to find their way to each other.
Hm. Nope, doesn't remind me of anything at all.
I wonder what Sydney's doing right now?
Damn it! I promised myself I wouldn't think of her tonight.
It's just so hard not to when I look at this bride in her gown waiting to get married. I just keep picturing how beautiful Sydney would look on her wedding day.
Okay, so I'm picturing how beautiful Sydney would look on *our* wedding day.
I shake my head in disgust and glare at my Lo Mein.
I just glared at Lo Mein. Could I be any more pathetic?
I drop my fork into the carton and ply a piece of carrot off of my chin.
I will not be *that* guy.
You know what I'm talking about. The guy who sits home all alone feeling sorry for himself, hoping that the alcohol will somehow make the loneliness vanish.
I refuse to be *that* guy.
I am better than that.
I am stronger than that.
Damn it, I handle a girl who kicks ass for a living!
I practically jump off the couch, dropping the carton onto the coffee table and brandishing the remote like a sword before clicking off the television.
I will not be *that* guy.
I am going out tonight. I am putting on some nice clothes and I am going out to dinner alone.
That's right. Alone.
I don't need a woman to prove my manhood. I am a powerful, strong man.
Surely, I can handle eating all by myself in a restaurant on Valentine's Day.
Can't I?
* * * *
~Sydney's POV~
I slowly enter the restaurant, my eyes scanning the sea of faces. I smartly chose a very informal restaurant.
It's actually a restaurant/karaoke bar. I figured it would be easier this way. The place is still crawling with couples, but at least they aren't looking deeply into each other's eyes and caressing their hands across the table, while they sip on glasses of champagne.
No. Here, they engage in brief make-out sessions and hands rub thighs under the table, while chugging mugs of beer in between.
I don't really know why I thought that would be better, but somehow it is.
Maybe it's because none of the couples look like they'll make it to the end of the year and that's comforting to me.
I find a table close to the back and sit down. A waitress in her mid-fifties with a bad blond dye job comes to my table and offers me a less-than-enthusiastic greeting.
"Hi, I'm Margie and I'll be your server tonight. Would you like to order a drink while you wait for your dinner companion?"
I resist the urge to tell 'Margie' where she can stick her close-minded assumption.
I simply smile and reply as sweetly as possible, "Actually, I'll be dining alone tonight."
Her penciled-in eyebrows arch in surprise. She responds slowly, "Okay...um...Would you like to order a drink now then?"
"Yes, a beer, please."
She nods and then walks away. I'm not usually a beer drinker, I prefer wine, but I figure if I'm looking to be a little bold today then I might as well change that too.
I pick up the menu and begin to peruse it. However, my attention is soon pulled away by a voice to my right. I look up and into the face of a very handsome man around my age.
He's got short, curly brown hair and a sparkling smile. I return the smile.
Hm...maybe something good will come out of this. I bet he could take my thoughts off my situation and Vaughn for a little bit.
"Hi," I say.
His smile widens, "Hi." Oh, good sign. He continues on, "Sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you needed this other chair?"
My face falls and I briefly consider kicking him in the gut for asking such a question. I also consider paying the first guy I see on the street to pretend to be my date, just so I won't give this guy the satisfaction of knowing I don't need that chair.
Unfortunately, neither one of those options seems plausible.
I force a smile, "No, go ahead and take it."
His smile widens even more. Geez, how many teeth does this guy have?
"Thanks," he replies, before walking away with my chair and leaving me with just the one I'm sitting in.
Damn. Now I can't even pretend I'm waiting for my date. At least if I got stood up, I could get some pity stares.
Listen to me. I actually want pity stares, rather than just face up to the fact that I came here alone.
Okay, maybe I can't do this.
* * * *
~Vaughn's POV~
I enter the restaurant/karaoke bar, my gaze jumping from couple to couple. My lips turn downward.
I thought this would be better than one of those fancy-schmancy restaurants where the couples seem to put on a show for those surrounding them.
I think I was wrong, as I look at all of these young couples practically glued to each other.
I suddenly feel like the over-the-hill, been-in-college-for-eight-years RA who just walked in on a dorm floor party.
Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.
Against my protesting brain, I find a table and sit down.
A waitress with far too much makeup on and a bad perm approaches my table. She speaks like she'd rather be anywhere else on earth at the moment.
"Hi, I'm Margie, I'll be your server tonight. Would you like to order a drink while you wait for your dinner companion?"
I resist the urge to yank her hair so hard it loses it curl for making such an assumption.
I plaster on a smile, "Actually, I'll be dining alone tonight."
She arches her brow and shakes her head. She mutters, "What's going on tonight?"
"I'm sorry?"
"Nothing. Would you like to order a drink then?"
I nod, "Yes...Can I have a white wine?"
She arches her brow at me again. Damn judgmental waitress.
What? A man can't eat alone and order wine for himself?
I'm trying to be different today. Bold. Unpredictable. Mr. Spontaneity.
A beer is what the old Michael Vaughn would order. The new one wants a damn white wine.
She stops looking at me like I have two heads and walks away.
I pick up the menu and begin to scan it. However, my attention is soon pulled away by a female voice to my left.
I look up and into the face of a pretty woman, a bit younger than me.
She has long, blonde hair and bright blue eyes.
Hm. Maybe this won't be so bad after all. I bet she could take my mind off Sydney for a little bit.
"Hi," I say, flashing her what I hope to be a debonair grin.
She smiles widely, "Hi." I've still got it. She goes on, "Sorry to bother you, but would you mind switching tables with us? My boyfriend doesn't like to be so close to the karaoke stage."
My smile fades and I have to suppress my urge to tell her where her wussy boyfriend can go. I briefly consider making up an excuse, like I have sensitive eardrums or something, just so I won't have to give into her.
Unfortunately, neither one of those options seems reasonable.
I plaster a smile on my face and get up, "No, of course not."
Her smile grows, "Thanks."
I follow her to her table and plop down into the chair.
Great. Now I can be alone and right in front of a bunch of tone-deaf amateurs, who will undoubtedly be judging me.
Okay, maybe I can't do this.
* * * *
~Sydney's POV~
I take a small sip of my beer and force it down. I really don't care for beer.
I sigh, as my eyes again scan the young couples in the room. I am seriously starting to feel old. I have to fight the urge not to throw my beer at this couple next to me, who have practically swallowed each other's heads.
Seriously, I think the guy can actually unhinge his jaw, like a snake or something.
I groan, my gaze continuing around the room.
Couple. Couple. Couple. Couple. Vaughn. Couple. Cou-...
Whoa. Wait a minute. Back it up. Rewind.
Vaughn?
What the hell is he doing here?
And why is he alone?
He doesn't see me. He's too busy studying his menu. Or pretending to study his menu, as the case seems to be.
There's like six items on the menu. It only take about two minutes to read it and decide what you want.
Trust me, I timed it.
And then I pretended to study the menu.
My gaze remains focused on him. Damn, he looks good.
He's wearing a pair of nice khakis and a dark blue button down shirt that's open a couple of buttons. His hair's styled a bit more than usual and I find my fingers twitching with the urge to run them through it.
He looks so comfortable in those clothes.
Don't get me wrong. I love Work Vaughn. I love Jogging Vaughn.
I mean, I don't love them...him. I love how they...he looks...when-...
Oh, you know what I mean!
But tonight he looks different. Amazing, really.
He looks like he should be walking along the beach on some tropical island.
And I should be walking right next to him, hand in hand.
Okay, I took that hypothetical scenario a bit too far.
What is he doing here?
This is not good.
* * * *
~Vaughn's POV~
I've been pretending to read my menu for fifteen minutes now, which is really quite ridiculous because there are only six items on it.
I'm just not exactly sure what I'm supposed to do after I put the menu down.
I could drink my white wine, if I didn't think it tasted like crap.
I could play with my cocktail napkin, if I were five and had some crayons.
I could read the carvings in the old, dark wood of my table, if I hadn't already done that and decided to stop after the sixth message with 'your mama' in it.
I guess I could people-watch. Sure, I'll feel stupid, but no more so than I did reading my menu for fifteen minutes.
Plus, I've always been good at people-watching. I'm quite the observer. It comes in handy as a CIA agent.
I look over at the couple to my left and roll my eyes. The woman hasn't shut up since I sat down and her date seems to have fallen into a coma.
Can you be in a coma and still have your eyes open? Judging by this guy, I'd have to say yes.
My eyes continue to scan the crowd of young couples 'in love.' And by 'in love' I mean 'unable to keep their hands off each other'.
Disgusting couple. Boring couple. Mushy couple. Sydney. Kinky coup-...
Whoa. Not so fast. Reverse.
Sydney?
What the hell is she doing here?
And why is she alone?
She doesn't see me. She's too busy looking into her beer, like there's something extremely fascinating floating at the bottom of it. Or maybe she's pretending to look into her beer, because, let's face it, there's nothing much to see.
My eyes remain focused on her. Damn, she looks good.
She's wearing a short, bright red silk dress with spaghetti straps. I can see her long, shapely legs crossed under the table and I have to swallow hard.
Her hair is down and fuller than usual. It's got a bit of a bounce to it that I am not used to seeing on her.
She looks absolutely beautiful tonight. So natural.
Don't get me wrong. I love Casual Sydney. I love Kick-Ass-Disguised Sydney.
Not love as in *love* But love as in...you know...love as in...
Well, it really doesn't matter.
Tonight, she just looks different. Amazing, actually.
She looks like she should be dancing the tango at some Latin club.
And I should be her partner, pulling her close to me and inhaling the scent that is uniquely hers.
Okay, took that hypothetical scenario a bit too far.
What is she doing here?
This is not good.
* * * *
~Sydney's POV~
He noticed me. He's staring at me.
I'm pretending to find my beer incredibly interesting right now.
I wish the beer companies put little prizes at the bottom of these things. Then I wouldn't look so stupid. I'd actually have a purpose. They could take a cue from the cereal companies.
I'm really trying not to look up and meet his eyes.
What would be the point? It's not like I could say, 'hey, come on over here and we can talk'.
Which is exactly what I'd like to do. But, no, doing that would be against protocol, put our jobs and lives at risk...blah, blah, blah.
I am really trying not to meet his eyes, but it is so hard. He's seven tables away, a fair distance actually, and I still feel like his piercing gaze could burn holes into my forehead.
I can't suppress the urge to connect with those amazing green eyes of his and abruptly lift my head up.
My gaze meets his and I could swear that there's a flicker in his eyes when it does.
A flicker of some emotion. Anger? Happiness? Desire?
I couldn't tell, but I know it was there.
To my surprise, his lips curl into a heart-stopping smile.
I can't help but return it.
He shrugs his shoulders in a 'what are the odds?' manner and I shake my head.
What are the odds?
Or maybe this is fate at work.
* * * *
~Vaughn's POV~
She finally met my gaze and when she did, I noticed she wasn't surprised to see me. She must have noticed me first.
When our eyes met, I could have sworn I saw a spark of something in her eyes.
What was it? Annoyance? Joy? Longing?
I couldn't tell, but I know it was there.
I can't stop myself from flashing her a smile.
She has the amazing ability to pull a smile out of me when I have absolutely no intention of giving into that urge.
To my surprise, she returns the smile with one that makes my palms sweaty and causes me to ponder if my deodorant is also an anti-perspirant.
I shrug, hoping to convey 'what are the odds?' to her and she shakes her head.
What are the odds?
Or maybe a force greater than probability is at work here.
* * * * * *
TBC...Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed it and please let me know what you thought! ~Steph