Sporks and Fries
Story II : Muffins and Coffee

By: Kira
[kira @foreverbright.net]

Disclaimer: I don't own Alias. Really. I might dream that I do sometimes, but I don't.

Because of feedback recieved for the first part on SD-1.com, I decided to keep going. Here's the next part of this "saga".

Jack wasn't very happy.

Well, he usually wasn't very happy, so this wasn't anything different than usual. But he was particularly unhappy at the moment because there was a phone ringing somewhere in his house and he didn't know where the phone was. He'd turned over the cushions to his still brand-new smelling couch, searched several neat and organized drawers, and looked in the bottom of his closet. Still no luck.

What was worse was the fact that the person *kept on calling*. He growled and rubbed his forehead. Was there a phone in his home he'd forgotten about?

He snapped his fingers and ran to the closet in the laundry room, where his suits deemed past the point of repair were sitting (along side the worn too many times to wear again suits) and searched the pockets, coming up with a small, blue Nokia 3100 series phone. The memory came back to him – this was Vaughn's cell phone, never reclaimed after the whole Security Section situation was cleared up. He must have gotten a new phone after that split-second switch, and someone hadn't gotten the new number.

Curiosity grabbed hold of the secret agent, and while he *knew* he should simply turn the phone off and return it to its rightful owner (there had to be some numbers in the phone book on this thing the younger agent needed), he quickly decided against it. That man was with his little girl, and he wasn't about to do anything nice for him.

He answered it, but said nothing.

Jack knew that voice! It was that annoying dipshit who got to be around Irina when she wasn't locked up in a cell under surveillance! Why was Sark calling Vaughn? Listen, I know you can hear me, and I just wanted to say before you hang up on me that I enjoyed lunch last week even though there were a few, and here he paused, problems. I hope to see you again soon. Alone. He hung up. Jack stood there, open mouthed, the phone still held up to his ear. Was there something going on? And what the hell did that man think he was doing, still going out with his daughter! He had to go take care of this – now.

So Jack made his way to the one place he knew his baby's workaholic of a boyfriend would be at six o'clock in the morning.

The Starbucks across from the freeway.

Two miles down the road was the non-descript building that housed the Joint Task Force. The Starbucks down the way had been adopted by the newly transplanted CIA agents as someplace to get their coffee ever since the Great Coffeemaker Incident of March. Two were sent to the hospital and Weiss had been on trial for a few days. He was later exonerated as the new intern confessed. But Jack wasn't completely convinced. Weiss *had* leaped in front of the coffee pot when Vaughn approached for his morning cup, knocking both of them to the floor.

Jack slapped his forehead. Of course! He should have seen it then. And when Sydney came into work a week ago distraught

He swerved haphazardly into a parking lot and slammed the door, huffing as he stormed into the coffee place.

So then, I was like, dude, sporks, totally; and he was – Eric Weiss stopped laughing as Jack suddenly appeared standing above the pair sitting at the table, a glare that had killed people before focused at him. Why did that man have to come now, of all times? He was so in the middle of a moment with Vaughn, which he had been working hard at for the last week. Ever since that British pretty boy showed up, he'd beenoff.

It was at that moment that Weiss realized this death glare was not focused on him, as it normally was, but on Vaughn. Handsome, perfect, boy scout Vaughn. It was like trying to kill a harmless puppy. Weiss wasn't going to have anyone look at his boy like that.

he said tersely, his gaze just as cold. Jack shifted to look at him, and took a slight step back upon seeing his face. Can we help you?

Michael Vaughn, who had been enjoying his English muffin and cherry jam, finally looked up at Jack, as he appeared Less Harmless than when he walked in (a time when he was Very Harmful).

I would like to speak to Mr. Vaughn, he said.

Was it possible that Jack wanted to move in on his territory as well? First Sark, then Jack. Who was next? That reporter friend of Sydney's – whatshisname? Will? Why couldn't he just be left alone? Weiss longed for the old days, when he didn't know any of these new people and his only competition was Alice. And Maureen. And there was that crazy girl – Fiona. He shuttered. Now *there* was a psycho. If he could take Fiona, he could certainly take Jack Bristow.

Bring it on.

We're eating our breakfast here, Jack, Vaughn finally built up the courage to say. Jack was about to re-focus his gaze, but Weiss chose this moment to get out of the booth, brushing past Jack and almost knocking him off his balance. He was off to get a weapon.

Jack took this opportunity to slip into Weiss' vacated seat. Vaughn took another bite of his English Muffin.

Mr. Vaughn, I have something to return to you, he commented, pulling the cell phone from his pocket and sliding it across the table to Vaughn. He took it, wondering for a second why it looked as if it had been thrown at a wall. He shrugged and ate with one hand as he looked through the phone book. Ugghe now remembered why he didn't miss this phone all that much.

Thanks, but you didn't have to, he smiled. Jack rolled his eyes.

I received a very disturbing phone call earlier on it, he continued. Vaughn finished up his breakfast and took a sip of the coffee Weiss had gotten for him. He'd given up on getting his own coffee because Weiss made it *perfectly* for him. Like he put love into it or something. Vaughn laughed in his head. Right. Weiss in love with him? Totally not possible.

Vaughn asked. Could it be that one of his ex-girlfriends had decided to call him and accost him once again? He shuttered. Damn that Fiona, she was worse that Alice. Only someone that insane would think to kidnap his dog but not think it through enough and end up walking it outside his best friend's apartment.

Yes, it was - but he was cut off as Weiss returned, breakfast sweets in tow, and slid into the booth next to Vaughn. Jack narrowed his eyes, examining how close Weiss was, and the lack of discomfort on Vaughn's part. He cleared his throat and continued. Mr. Sark, commenting on a lunch last week?

That damned Brit, Weiss muttered under his breath, stabbing his muffin with his finger rather violently. Vaughn swiped a large chunk that had fallen off and popped it in his mouth, checking the clock over Jack's shoulder. Ugg. He had to get into work soon if he was going to get off early enough to go out to dinner with Sydney. He couldn't break that date – he'd missed a few already.

Yeah? What did he want?

To see you again, alone, Jack revealed. Mr. Vaughn, I know my daughter is a grown woman, but I have started to worry about you.

Vaughn said. He moved to take another piece of the muffin but Weiss slapped his hand away, overly protective of his muffin. Vaughn quickly retracted his hand and pouted with that puppy-dog face. This caused Weiss to melt and turn to his friend.

he smiled.

Vaughn smiled back. Weiss' grin grew unconsciously. They were close in the booth, so close. Their shoulders were only inches apart, and for a second, Weiss was once again in seventh heaven. They sat that way for a moment until –

Jack roared, causing the entire Starbucks to look at them. Weiss couldn't take it anymore. Sark was calling his man to make dates, he was sitting here earlier than human's should awaken because his man was going out with that, that *woman*, and now Jack had interrupted a moment. A moment! This he could not take. So he did the only thing he could think worth of this situation.

He chucked the three day old rock hard muffin square at Jack's head.

Both Vaughn and Jack's eyes were open wide in shock as Weiss simply brushed his hands together, letting the crumbs on them fall to the plate on the table. The muffin, a chocolate chip one, sat in Jack's lap as the older agent rubbed the large red spot on his forehead. It took a moment, but Weiss finally realized what he did and re-ran when Jack had entered to see if he had a gun on him.

But instead of taking out his gun and shooting Weiss on the spot (he had learned long ago that places didn't like having to clean blood off the floor), he picked up the muffin, examined it, and promptly threw it back at its owner.

It missed, and hit Vaughn's coffee. The coffee cup slammed into him, and he was thankful it wasn't piping hot, but it was hot. And he wasn't wearing one of those stain defender shirts.

Damn it. He knew he should have shelled out those $10 extra dollars for one!

And his shirt was white.

While Jack was calmly standing to leave before there was a confrontation, Weiss' mind was on the fact that his man was wearing a white shirt and it wasn't dry anymore.

I'll, umm, talk to you –

There you are! Sydney exclaimed, walking into the Starbucks. She stopped short, though, as she saw her boyfriend stand and try to brush the coffee off his shirt. She then saw Weiss sitting on the edge of the booth. And her father – what the? What the hell happened to your head?

What happened to you shirt? she asked of Vaughn, but before he could answer, she continued. And what are you doing with *him*?! I told you that you can't hang out with him when I'm not around! She was shrieking now, pointing an accusing finger at Weiss. He stood, hands on his hips.

He can't hang out with me?

she cried.

I'm his best friend!

Oh, you want to be more than that!

What are you talking about? Vaughn asked, clueless as always. Sydney humphed and stood strong.

What am I talking about? What am I talking about!

Ma'am? You're – The clerk stopped as the four of them glared at him.

Listen, Sydney, I don't know what you're talking about! Vaughn responded.

You swear you're with me only? No calls, no lunches? she asked. Vaughn nodded. She smiled and wrapped her arms around him.

Of course, that was when the cell phone Jack just returned rang. And rang. Sydney took the phone from his pocket and looked at the caller ID, then stormed out.

Damn that Sark, Weiss thought. Or wait. Was this the one time he was happen the little Brit had intervened?