Title: Ham and Cheese
Author: DOKChairman
Time: No particular time frame. Assume everything that has happened up to the second season is fair game.
Disclaimer: I do not own Alias. If you really believe I own Alias, then I have some beach front property to sell you in Utah. No really, I do. Just give me a call at 1-800-333-SUCKER and we'll see about setting you up. Anyway, as I was saying before I was rudely interrupted by whoever's reading this, you know who you are, J. J. Abrams, Bad Robot Productions, and ABC (Disney's front for their attempt at world domination) own Alias.
Dedication: I am dedicating this chapter of Ham and Cheese (And all my other Alias fanfic) to Angela Evans and Jada Lynne. I don't know whether I should be touched by your...enthusiasm, or whether I should look into getting a restraining order. You guys are the best fans I have ever had, and Jada, you are truly a unique person. I don't know what it is I like about you, but you make me laugh so whatever it is you want I will try my best to make happen. Also, I like the fact that it truly does seem like I'm the only male fanfic writer in the whole freaking fandom. That is scary on so many different levels. I blame all the ramblings below this on you two.
Author's Note: In honor of the recent Sydney Skincapades, I've decided to grace you all with a new chapter for Ham and Cheese. Its not Angel Dark, I know, but you know what they say:'Beggars can't be choosers.' You should all be happy I'm writing at all. Think of this chapter as a warmup. Not only am I writing because of the inordinate amount of skin that JG has been showing lately (Thank you J. J.), but I also happen to actually be in a good mood for once. I haven't been this happy since, well since the Super Bowl ep. For those of you who know me, I think you know why. Black lingerie is all I really need to say.
Why am I so happy you ask? Because I ran into an old friend today and he told me he and a buddy were trying to get an indie film off the ground, and he wanted to put together the old crew again. I, along with about twenty others, back in high school, had a group where we did independent plays and movies. It feels good to get back into that kind of atmosphere, especially since my friend says he's going to try and get this movie to a much wider audience. I just hope I get to be a part of it again. It would be great to get behind the camera again.
Anyway, it is my goal to appall, disgust, and insult you with my total objectification of the female body. Ooooo, are you mad yet? No? Well wait, there's more. I hope you enjoy my male chauvinistic viewpoints. I know I do :) Mmmm, Jennifer Garner in a bikini. Now as long as my girlfriend doesn't see this, I should be all right. She has a tendency to physically abuse me when she gets angry.
But I digress. I figure if the women out there can wax poetic on the wonders of Michael Vartan (to be fair, I probably spend way too much time thinking about him myself), its only fair that I get the same opportunity. I could spend hours telling you why I love JG so much, but since FanFic.net banned NC-17 posts, I have to restrain myself. Lets just say she is gorgeous and leave it at that. And that smile, damn I love that smile. Is it possible for a guy to swoon? I've never seen it happen before myself, but if it is possible, its safe to say I do it every time I see JG smile. I love those dimples. It's a shame I'll never meet her in real life because it would be great to see that smile for real at least once in my life. Oh well, such is the burden of the lowly college student.
Now to be serious for a minute (As if that's possible). The response has been positive enough that I've decided to continue Angel Dark. However, I'm going to take things slow. I have to feel my way around this new version of Alias. I'm not setting any deadlines because I honestly don't know when I'll actually finish.
And I meant to say this earlier, but thanks for all the support. It means a lot to me and it really helped me out during my Troubles. Thank you very much. And before I forget, let me add this. Long live SpySex!!!! It's about damn time and I hope it never ends. Unfortunately, I know it will end. This is J. J. Abrams were talking about here. He's the same guy that had Felicity changing boyfriends practically every other freaking episode. I do not put much faith in the S/V relationship lasting past the end of the season. There is like some unwritten rule in Hollywood that couples on TV can't stay together. It would be nice to actually see one go against the norm, but I wouldn't hold my breath. Plus who knows how SpyDaddy will react, and lets not forget that pesky habit of Syd's boyfriends dying on her. We just have to take what we get now and be thankful we got something at all. Now onto the story.
Chapter 5: They shoot clowns don't they?
"Vaughn! Can you hear me?" Sydney shook Vaughn's shoulder violently. When he didn't wake up, Sydney slapped him none too gently across the face. "Wake up!"
Vaughn's eyes fluttered and his impossibly green eyes zeroed on the hunched form of Sydney standing over him. His eyes roamed over her body and settled on her chest where there was nothing but a lacy black bra. The smooth skin of Sydney's body looked so inviting and Vaughn had to restrain himself from touching her.
Instead he decided to whine. "Owwww! You didn't have to hit me so hard!"
Sydney frowned at Vaughn as he slowly climbed to his feet. Under her breath she muttered, "Baby."
Vaughn started and looked at her sharply, "What did you say?"
Sydney just smiled innocently and shook her shoulders. Vaughn turned around, so he didn't have to look at her, and muttered almost inaudibly, "SpyBarbie."
An audible gasp came from behind him and he turned around quickly. Sydney had a look of shock on her face. "What did you call me?"
Vaughn smiled widely. "I didn't say nuthin."
Sydney waggled her finger at him accusingly. "Yes you did. You called me SpyBarbie. Me!?"
"How do you know what I said?" Vaughn asked defiantly.
Sydney gave him a pointed look and said, "Hello? Super hearing. Duh! I'm a super, sexy, secret agent remember?"
"Oh right, my bad. Forget I asked."
Sydney shook her head dismissively. "Already done."
Someone cleared their throat and the world's most attractive people turned to face a shirtless, powder encrusted Weiss. Weiss was frantically wiping Fan napkins against his body trying to get the powder off. All he accomplished was creating an albino zebra look. White powder alternating with slightly tan skin.
Weiss saw that he had the attention of the duo. "Would you two please stop flirting. We have more important things to do than compare whose chest is better. (Huh? Oh sorry, my mind drifted back to Sydney in the black lingerie. Back on track now.) What I mean, uh...shut up and help me get this stuff off me!"
Vaughn started cracking up at Weiss appearance. He reminded him of this mime that used to sleep on the park bench near his old house in France. People tried to pay him, but since he could never seem to get out of his box, the money just collected on the ground. Ah how he missed the good old days.
Vaughn shook his head and white powder came showering down. That was when he remembered that he was covered in the white chalky substance as well. Now it was Sydney's turn to laugh.
"You guys look whiter than Michael Jackson on a sunny day. I wish I had a camera right now. I'm sure Kendall would love to put this on his Wall of Constipation."
Both Vaughn and Weiss frowned. But then they looked at each other, their eyes connected and a silent communication passed between them. Before Sydney knew what was going on, she was in the middle of a shirtless Vaughn and Weiss manwich. Sydney squealed as the two men got white powder all over her.
Once the two men were satisfied that enough of their white substance was all over her (Ooo, bad mental image there), they moved away from Sydney and surveyed their handiwork. Enough of the powder had transferred to Sydney's slim and toned body, and she looked pretty hot. Well, to Vaughn she always looked good. But the white really emphasized the black bra she was wearing. And once again Vaughn had to avert his eyes. It was getting very hard not to stare.
Meanwhile, Sydney was still recovering from the unexpected embrace. That soon changed and her face reddened in anger. As she was plotting her revenge, Jean Cirac Paul-Bastiere Guitenau Montclaire Mureau, the leader of the Quebecens, interrupted the three of them.
Jean raised his gun and pointed it at Sydney. "Excuse me, I don't mean to interrupt, but who the hell are you?"
Sydney batted her eyes coquettishly and said breathily, "Who? Me?"
Jean rolled his eyes. "What other half naked woman dropped from the ceiling? I may be French-Canadian, but that doesn't mean I'm stupid."
Weiss jumped in, "Isn't that like an oxymoron?"
Jean just looked at Weiss dumbly and Weiss just smiled smugly. Jean waved his hand with the gun, the gun roaming wildly. "Whatever. Back to my earlier question."
"Oh right. Well you see, I can explain everything."
"Really? Ok, that's great." Jean then walked away.
All three CIA agents stared at the retreating back of their nemesis in shock. Vaughn and Weiss shook their shoulders in tandem and focused their attention on Sydney. Besides, why would they look at some ugly ass French-Canadian when they could look at Sydney? Why does the chicken cross the road? Why does my hair always part to the left instead of the right like I want it? Why do the ABC network execs have a job when Disney could save so much money and replace them with much more capable and intelligent monkeys? No one knows the answers to these questions, so I'm going to stop asking them.
Vaughn asked conversationally, "So, why did you fall through the ceiling?"
Sydney crossed her arms across her chest, which only served to emphasize her insanely perfect breasts (I know I'm being shameless here, but I can't help myself. My girlfriend isn't around to be a good influence on me. She's in class right now.) "It's a really funny story actually. You see I was crawling through the air ducts..."
Vaughn interrupted, arching a white brow. "Have you heard of the front door Syd?"
Sydney looked put out. "Like I'm going to just walk through the front door when there are crazy Quebecers with guns patrolling the building. You wouldn't want me to get shot would you?"
Vaughn hastily replied, "Of course not! But come on, the air ducts?"
Sydney replied defensively, "Hey, it happens in movies all the time! How was I suppose to know the building had shoddy construction?"
"This is L.A. What building doesn't have shoddy construction? Plus, Syd, going through the air ducts never works in the movies. Its like totally cliche."
Sydney shrugged her shoulders. "So? This whole concept is cliched. I mean I'm wearing a bra and leather pants for Christ sakes! Stuff like this doesn't happen in the real world. Just like people don't normally wear high heels after coming out of the pool."
Weiss, who had been pretty much ignored up to now (Ironically, just like on the show) butted into the conversation before it could escalate into a full blown thinly veiled display of sexual tension and obvious frustration. "Speaking of which, why are you not wearing a shirt?"
Sydney blushed and fidgeted nervously. "Uh...I was crawling around and the shirt I was wearing got caught on something. When I tried to pull it loose, I moved around too much and I fell through the ceiling. Without my shirt." Sydney started pouting by the end of her explanation.
Vaughn wasn't sorry in the least. "That's too bad Syd. I really feel for you."
Sydney could tell that Vaughn didn't mean what he was saying and she blushed slightly. That was when she noticed that Vaughn wasn't wearing a shirt either. It was amazing that she hadn't noticed earlier, but the fall had made her a little woozy.
"So why aren't you wearing a shirt?" Sydney asked curiously. Not that she was complaining. Shirtless Vaughn was a sight to behold. His lean, but firm and taut muscles, rippled across his chest...Ok, I'm sorry. I can't do this. I may have a crush on the guy, but I just can't bring myself to describe him in detail. Sorry ladies. Use your own imagination; I'm sure you'll be able to create a more vivid picture than me.
Now Vaughn blushed. "Honestly, I don't even remember why I took my shirt off. I think it had to do with it being too hot, but I just don't know."
Sydney spoke before she thought. "Well if you ask me, I think it's a good look for you. In fact I'm sure you would make a lot of people happy if you never wore another shirt again."
When Sydney realized what she said, she gasped and blushed a deep red. Vaughn blushed as well, and Weiss, well Weiss just snorted in disgust. God, he just wished the two of them would just do the hibbity dibbity and be done with it. He didn't know if he could take anymore of their crap. It just wasn't fair. When was he going to get his own Sydney? Maybe that brunette would be interested? It was worth checking out. Weiss left the two sexually frustrated agents and started searching for Connie.
Neither Sydney or Vaughn noticed Weiss leave. They were in their own little world that consisted of just them, a jar of mayonnaise, and a lonely French mime.
Sydney and Vaughn started moving together. Neither knew what they were doing. The only thing they knew was that they had to do it. Their mouths crashed together in a pornoesque kiss, and Vaughn's strong arms grabbed Sydney's waist and pulled her closer. They just stood there in the middle of Mr. Fan's Deli, two extremely white white people attempting to suck each other's tongues down their throat. It was such a beautiful scene that the Quebecers started to cry.
Sydney and Vaughn would have continued to try and set the Guinness book of world records for longest kiss if hadn't been for the sound of the front door opening. The jingling of the bell alerted everyone, including the Quebecers, that someone was coming through the door.
Sydney and Vaughn reluctantly broke apart and focused on the new arrival. To their shock, in front of them stood a man. A man in ten times too big red shoes, red checkered pants, a rainbow puffy shirt with ropes of colorful cloth coming out of numerous pockets, a mop of fire engine red hair, a giant red nose, and a face covered completely in white.
Oh, and did I mention he was carrying a bunch of balloons. No? Well I'm telling you now. Geez, give a guy a break why don't you.
The four Quebecers warily surrounded the clown and trained their guns on him. Before any of the Quebecers could say anything, the clown broke into a huge smile and said in a happy, peppy voice, "Hey hey! Look what we have here. It's a party. Would you boys like me to make you a balloon animal?"
One of the Quebecers squealed girlishly and said, "Yes!" The other three Quebecers stared disapprovingly at him and he quickly amended in a deep voice, "I mean no. Don't be absurd."
Meanwhile, back in SpyHappyland Vaughn was staring at the clown. There was something about the man that just looked so familiar. For some reason, he felt like he knew the clown. There was something about the nose and the chin that stood out.
Sudden realization dawned on Vaughn's face and he sputtered intelligibly in disbelief. He turned to Sydney and saw the same reaction on her face. In unison they said to each other, "That's Jack!"
The two turned back to look at Jack Bristow in abject horror. Jack meanwhile, just whistled a jaunty tune.
P.S. Ok, what did you think? Was it up to my earlier standards? It's been a while since I dabbled in the Alias verse. Give me feedback! Please! I need it like I need more pictures of JG in a bikini.