Sporks and Fries
Story I
By: Kira
[kira @foreverbright.net]
This is just a little piece of insanity I wrote for some friends of mine who said my serious fic was slashy. I had to show them what my slashy writing really looked like. There are some undertones, but the entire fic is G, PG at the most. Just drool over the boys, mmk?
Disclaimer: I don't own
Alias. Really. I might dream that I do sometimes, but I don't.
There are some things you never imagine would happen. This was one of them.
Listen, I'm really sorry about all those times I tried to kill you. It was unmistakable, that voice. Who else spoke with a crisp English accent like he was an American? That's right, Sark did, and he stood willingly in front of his arch-nemesis's boyfriend as if they had always been old friends. There was defiantly something wrong with this situation, Michael Vaughn observed, because he could swear that Eric Weiss was shooting a jealous glare at the Brit that scared even Vaughn.
Yeah, thanks, Vaughn replied, putting his awesome verbal skills to use. Sark smiled a bit at the response, thankful it was something other than a threat. He had been told he had a smile that could melt a woman's heart, and upped the wattage just a tad. Vaughn gave him a curious look. Weiss growled and stepped to Vaughn's side protectively. While normal people would take this as a sign to back off, Sark was a hired assassin, and the CIA desk agent didn't scare him. Well, maybe just a bit with that glare. Yep. Just a bit.
I hope you realize
it was nothing personal, he continued despite the
Glare of Death from Weiss. He looked down to the floor shyly, his hands
shoved into his pockets.
Nothing personal?
Vaughn laughed. I think it was a little personal.
Sark's head snapped up at that, apprehension spreading through a normally
stoic heart. It wasn't his fault that all during childhood, he had picked
on those he liked to the point of them hating him. Then again, he never had
any successful relationships. Why couldn't this dream of a man in front
of him realize that the threats on his life were merely the assassin's
way of flirting?
Weiss appeared as if he'd won a small war.
You gonna order? the man behind the counter in the small, neighborhood grill rolled his eyes at the group of customers standing in front of him. One of them he knew, for he was a regular who ordered more than one man should humanly eat. Yet lately, he'd been ordering a small fry and salads, mumbling something about needing to trim down his figure. He was slowly getting an idea of who he was sacrificing his favorite double cheeseburger for.
I'll just have a burger and some fries, Vaughn yawned, scratching the back of his head. Sark came up to stand next to him.
A little, Vaughn admitted, was a late night last night.
I'm sorry, he replied. Were his exploits around the world keeping his man awake? As long as they were keeping him away from Sydney. He frowned at the thought of that woman, making the moves on Vaughn. She was so wrong for a tall, strong man like him. He needed someone strong who could support him when he needed it.
I'll just have a salad with French and a small fry, Weiss ordered over the counter. Vaughn looked over at him, surprised.
Are you okay, Eric?
Fine, fine. Just trying new things, ya know?
I'll have a hot dog and a chocolate shake, Sark asked properly of the man behind the counter. Vaughn snapped his fingers and smiled.
Perfect idea! I'll have a chocolate shake too! Eric?
I'm fine with diet coke, Weiss pouted. Why couldn't he see the sacrifices he was making for him? At least Sark was paying for their meals, Weiss reflected, as the Brit pulled out some money and paid the man. A smirk on his face caused by the shake, Vaughn lead his friends to a table off in the corner while their food was being prepared. He loved this restaurant, he really did. Weiss had showed the place to him a few weeks after they had met, pulling him into the back booth and staring at him. He thought it was weird. Weiss said he was trying to figure out what color eyes Vaughn had.
Vaughn slid in to one side of the booth. Weiss and Sark stood at the end, glaring at each other, blocking each other from entering next to the object of their affections. This was an almost impossible situation. Fortunately for the poor janitor who would have to clean the place after their bloodbath, the food was up. Both were more than happy to run and retrieve it.
Vaughn retrieved his voice mails while they were gone, oblivious to the obvious tension between Sark and Weiss. And speaking of that –
Why are you even here? Vaughn asked Sark as he returned and slid into the booth next to him. Weiss growled audibly, cursing Sark's training in the acts of espionage and such. He had slid in there so gracefully, leaving Weiss to sit across from his friend. Sark divvied out Vaughn's food and his own, then shoved the tray to the end of the table. Weiss reached to get his own food.
I just wanted to spend some time with my favorite CIA agent, he grinned. Vaughn salted his ketchup and took a bite out of a fry.
Wouldn't that be Sydney? he asked. Both Weiss and Sark's expressions darkened at the mention of that woman's name, pausing in the middle of eating their food. Vaughn noticed the pause and looked at the both of them. What? What did I say?
Weiss smiled. Vaughn never said anything wrong, at least not in Weiss' mind. He munched on some of his salad as his gaze rose to meet Vaughn's eyes. God, those eyes! Every time he felt angry at Vaughn, he would just have to give them one look and he was cured.
Agent Vaughn, I would have thought you would have known it is you, Sark replied sweetly. Vaughn returned the smile, the two broken up by Weiss slamming his fist on the table.
That's enough! he cried. Sark was coming in here and messing up the relationship he'd worked on for years! He was so close, so close to getting, ahem, closer to his best friend. He'd already planted the doubt in Sydney's mind, but Sark would be much harder. He had to end this now.
Eric, are you okay? First a salad, and then this, Vaughn observed. All he wanted to do was eat his burger, was that too much to ask for?
Sark, you have to leave! Weiss exclaimed, pointing to the door. Sark grinned.
Or what, Agent Weiss? You'll try to hurt me? Sark responded.
That's right, I challenge you to a duel!
A duel?
A duel for what? Vaughn asked, eating another fry. Sark was mesmerized. How could one man make something so simple as eating a fry look so sexy? And the way his jaw moved as he chewed, it was – wonderful. He was surprised no one had caught on to the fact that his threats on Sydney's life were to get her out of the way.
For your honor, Mike, Weiss said to him softly.
My honor?
I accept, Sark laughed. This desk CIA agent was going down.
I'm gonna take you down, take you down to Chinatown, Weiss grinned. Vaughn laughed.
I love that line! he smiled. Weiss grabbed a box of straws from a nearby supply counter. Sark chose a box of sporks. The other patrons had gathered around the pair, intrigued by the odd fight going on and the gorgeous man sitting in the booth next to them. His sparkling green eyes moved from one man to the other, confused, curious.
Weiss struck first. Grabbing a handful of straws, he tossed them at Sark. One struck him in the face, causing the international hitman to rub his face where it struck and look in the metal of a napkin holder. Ok, he was fine. He ran at Weiss, sporks in his hand. Weiss waited – he had been in a fight with spork before, he knew what to do. Just as Sark was about to spork him, Weiss moved out of the way and kicked him into the back of the restaurant.
With Sark cornered, Weiss was ready to move in to make his, well move. His hand was raised above his head, ready to pummel the blond man with the remaining straws, but was stopped as someone griped his wrist. He turned his head to see Vaughn standing there, a soft smile on his lips. They were so close now, Weiss could see his dreams come true.
He's not worth it, he breathed. His breath was warm, sweet. Weiss smiled, letting the straws fall to the floor. But Sark wasn't finished with him yet. With one last spork, he jumped up and launched himself at Weiss. Vaughn pulled him out of the way at the last moment, taking the spork in the side. He cried out and fell to the floor.
Look what you did! Weiss screamed, rushing to Vaughn's side. Sark took up space on the other, concern and remorse in his light blue eyes.
I'm so sorry, so sorry! he said. Vaughn sighed.
I know, it's ok, Sark.
You okay, buddy? Weiss asked. Vaughn turned to him.
Of course. But my cheeseburger's getting cold. Sark and Weiss helped him up and deposited him in the booth, making him the center of a Sark-Vaughn-Weiss sandwich.
They finished their lunch in peace.
As Sark departed to go off and do more evil things, he slipped Vaughn his phone number, giving him a wink. Weiss pulled a left-over spork from his pocket. Vaughn laughed, put his arm around Weiss, and moved over to --
In her dark apartment, Sydney Bristow woke up, her face covered in sweat. She took a deep breath, regaining herself before glancing over at the clock. 3 am. She turned to where Vaughn should have been lying, asleep.
What an odd dream to be having!
But still, she couldn't help but feel it wasn't just coming from nowhere. Slipping out of bed, she made her way over to the door connecting to the living room with padded feet. The TV was on. That was odd, she thought. Opening the door, she looked out into the living room, then promptly screamed and fainted.
On the couch, the boy-wich
woke up, looked over at her, then fell back asleep. Vaughn sighed. Why did he
always have to be in the middle?
