Everything's the same…yadda, yadda, yadda…

This Chapter: This is when the actual story comes into play. You'll see what I mean.

Chapter 3: Enter Yenta!Weiss and His Stupid Questions

"We have got tot stop being this late. One of these days they're going to catch on and start suspecting something."

"I know."

"I thought this drawer was going to save us some time, not make us even later!"

"I know!"

"I guess it didn't help that we kicked out the alarm clock last night. Weiss is going to have a field day with this, you realize that don't you?"

"I know."

"Do you say anything other than 'I know'? You're not listening to me anymore, are you?"

"I kn—Wait a second, what?"

"That's what I thought." Sydney and Vaughn pulled into the parking garage down the street from the CIA building. She parked the car with an audible screech, grabbed her briefcase and purse from the backseat, and was out the door by the time he had unbuckled his seat belt. He yelled at her to wait up, but she had already disappeared down the cement staircase. By the time he caught up, she was waiting at the stoplight, tapping her foot impatiently and her fist thrusting into her hip. He had to laugh: they both looked like normal disgruntled employees on the way to work. Before he could say a word, the light changed and she dashed across the intersection like death was on her heels. As he sprinted to keep up, they entered the building, hurriedly flashing their security passes to the guards, and opted for the elevator.

The wait for that tiny little box seemed like eternity and a day, and when it finally did arrive, there seemed to be at least a hundred people scrambling to get out, the graveyard shift finally over. They entered after the stream/river, and she began tapping the "basement" button so vigorously that he thought she was going to punch the panel in.

After two extremely long and tense minutes of silence (during which Vaughn's sides were aching trying not to laugh) the doors crawled open. Flying to their respective desks, they mutually hoped that when people noticed their flushed faces, tousled hair, and disheveled appearances, they would not get the wrong idea. Weiss was waiting for Vaughn as he threw his briefcase onto his desk from a distance. He watched as it slid across the metal surface and back onto the floor, dragging his awaiting paperwork with it.

As Vaughn groaned, Weiss leaned upon the desk, folding his arms across his chest and giving Vaughn a haughty look. "Well, well, well. Finally decide to take a risk and open the bedroom door? Come up for air? Put on some clothes for more than half an hour?"

"Stop giving me that holier-than-thou look. It doesn't suit you."

"How do you know how I'm looking at you? You're not even looking at me."

"I just…know." Vaughn plunked the mess of papers along with his briefcase onto his desk and collapsed into his chair on wheels. He heaved a sigh as he looked at the discombobulated pile; he had a meeting in thirty minutes that required that the entire mess be completed. He thought that if he ignored him long enough, Weiss would eventually slink away to his own desk to do his own paperwork and to talk to his own self.

Unfortunately that did not work.

Instead, Eric perched on a corner of his friend's desk, pulled a slinky out of his pocket, and began slinging it from hand to hand. "You know, Jack noticed that you two were late. More importantly, he noticed that you two were late together."

Vaughn reached for a pen, trying to block out what could possibly be the Most Annoying Sound in the World. "So?"

"'So?' So Jack is going to kill you. No, worse than kill you. He's going to lock you in a cage, do his best Hannibal Lector impersonation, act out 'The Music Man' in its entirety, and then kill you. Yeah, that would be so much worse than just shooting you in the face."

"Was he really that pissed?"

"I seriously thought that I saw steam come out of his ears and his hairline recede at least an inch."

"Oh God, I'm in trouble."

Eric allowed his friend to get started on his work while the silver metal spring bounced back and forth from hand to hand. He knew he should get to his own stack of papers (he was required to be at the same meeting in twenty minutes), but he was having way too much fun thinking up possible ways to drive Mike out of his mind. "So this drawer…" He mused, drawing out the last word like he was pulling taffy. "Are you enjoying it? Wait a second, stupid question. It's probably the reason why you're late, isn't it?"

Vaughn paused in the middle of writing a word. "How the hell do you know this? Do you have bugs in her apartment? Do you follow us? Are you perverted like that? Wait a second, stupid question."

His friend laughed sarcastically and increased the slinky's speed ever so slightly. "Ha, ha, ha. Would you answer the question? I was actually being serious for once."

"You really want to know how the drawer is doing? You want to know how the drawer is doing?"

Weiss widened his eyes and raised his eyebrows 'til they almost met his hairline, making him look like a slightly deranged clown. "Yes, Mikey. Would you like me to use one-syllable words so that you can un-der-stand me? Or do you want me to spell it out for you? Do you even know how to spell 'drawer'? D-r-a-w—"

"Shut up. You better stop talking or…or…or—"

"Or what? Come on, spit it out. While I'm young and sexy."

Vaughn raised an eyebrow as he began to shuffle sheets again. "Or I'll somehow revive Project Helix and double you so I can kick your ass twice."

His friend's face fell and he shook his head in disgust. "That was the worst comeback I've ever heard, my friend. Have I taught you nothing? Oh, I'm a complete failure at teaching!"

"Dude, calm down. Don't get your panties in a knot."

"Ooh. Someone's grown some balls. Well, obviously: you had to be pleasing Syd with something!"

"Weiss, we're at work! This is not the place for blatantly obvious sexual innuendo. There are literally eyes and ears everywhere."

"Oh calm down, will you? Everyone's already had their daily update of 'As the World Turns: the Sydney and Michael Story'. Now just answer my damn question: are you enjoying your drawer?"

Vaughn sighed in exasperation, abandoning his work for good by ripping the slinky out of his friend's hand and angrily slamming it in a drawer. "I told you, it's just for convenience. Get your mind out of the gutter. Why would I be enjoying it in any other way? I only put clothes in it. Whoo hoo. Big party there."

"I don't know. Maybe you found another use for it. And I'm not perverted, just open-minded and creative. I mean, if I had a girlfriend like Syd, I'd do anything that she'd be willing to do. If I had a girlfriend period…Hell, I'd pretty much do anything now. By the way why do nice, portly, non-pretty guys finish last? It's not fair that you hunky men monopolize all the women. Can't just one of them settle for Hot Guy's Best Friend?"

"Aw! I'd settle for you, Eric." Syd suddenly appeared at another corner of Vaughn's desk, smiling so widely that she left them both wondering just exactly how much of their conversation she heard. She moved a folder or two and a cup of stale coffee from the day before aside so that she had room to perch herself on his desk as well. Suddenly Vaughn was becoming very claustrophobic. "The minute Vaughn and I are over, I'll dig out the number you gave me the first day I was here and call you. Oh, did I ever apologize for breaking your jaw that day? 'Cause I really am sorry about that." She offered him an apologetic grin while he rubbed his jaw, reminiscent, and her boyfriend glared between the two of them, not knowing which part of that sentence to correct first.

"But—what—who—when—huh?"

Weiss rolled his eyes and tousled his friend's hair, attempting to muss with his perpetual case of perfect bed-head. "What he means is he'll be happy for the two of us when we have five hundred little Weisses and Sydneys running around and spying on each other. Sorry he's a little sluggish right now; can you tell we were talking about you? Speaking of sluggish, man, you gotta go: this meeting of ours starts in exactly one minute."

The look on Vaughn's face at that moment could have been used for at least ten years' worth of blackmail photos. He hurriedly shoved his belongings into the open briefcase and loaded what did not fit into his arms. Before making the fastest getaway in CIA history he called behind him, "What about you? Aren't you coming?"

"Right behind ya, buddy," Eric yelled after his friend, wagging a hand at him indifferently. "You gotta let someone else be late from time to time. You know, break the cycle for a little change of pace. I'll keep everyone on their toes."

Vaughn visibly hesitated for a moment, unsure if he should leave his "open-minded and creative" best friend with his girlfriend. One, he reminded himself, that he would like to keep for the entire duration of the day. With another blasé wave of Weiss's hand, he uncertainly rushed off down a corridor and out of the bullpen.

Turning back to Sydney, Eric followed his friend's girlfriend back to her desk where her own stack of papers, maps, and reports were piling up. Sighing as she sat down, she cleared a space on the side of her desk only for it to be covered moments later by Eric's bottom. She smiled up at him as she shuffled the stacks around, organizing them according to her specific pattern. "May I help you, Agent Weiss?"

Without pretense he titled his head and asked, "So. A drawer, huh? What gave you that idea?"

"Why the hell do you care?"

"It was just a question."

"It was a very nosy question."

"Hey, Mike's my best friend. I just want what's best for him."

"And one of my drawers isn't up to par."

"No, that's not what I said."

"Yeah, but that's what you implied."

"Ah!" Weiss swiped his hand through the air to cut her off. "You women! You people are the masters at twisting words. Especially mine."

"Oh, but they're so easy to twist."

"Syd, be quiet!" Her lips snapped shut like magnets. "Good. Now stay…Alright. What I meant was are you really that serious already? Or he wasn't lying when he said it was only for convenience?"

"He said it was only for convenience?"

"Just answer the damn question, Syd. What is it with you two and evading the topic at hand? What, were you trained to be this good?" She gave him a Look. "Wait. I'll correct myself. Stupid question, right?"

"You bet."

"Okay…so answer the question, oh Great and Powerful, Beautiful, Smart, and Impeccably Strong Daughter of Jack Bristow."

When she looked up at him, it seemed that her eyes had grown three shades deeper and four times rounder. "Eric, can we please not discuss this, especially here and now? That's really between Vaughn and me."

"Naturally that means the entire world has a right to know about it. So fork it over."

Standing up to her full height and lifting her chin, she sufficiently intimidated the taller man. "Not on your under-sexed life, Eric Weiss."

That sufficiently shut him up.

The two were in the same position when a disgruntled Vaughn reappeared at the corner of his girlfriend's desk. Clearing his throat loudly to attract their attention, he smiled genuinely at Sydney, but the grin turned upside down when his gaze landed on Weiss. "When the hell were you planning on telling me that our meeting was cancelled?"

"Now. Our meeting's cancelled," He replied, smiling smugly and crossing his arms over his chest. "If you were actually answering your phone last night or reading those papers, you would have eventually figured out that our meeting was rescheduled to tomorrow. So you have one more chance to be on time before Kendall or Devlin or Spy Daddy have a tangible reason to poison your ass."

Sydney was struggling to hold back her laughter with both of her hands as Vaughn strained to resist the urge to wrap his fingers around his friend's pudgy neck. She sat down as a figure moving towards her caught her eyes. "Hey, speaking of which, here comes Dad now. And whoa! Wonder why he's got the stick so far up his ass already this morning? Isn't it a little early for it to be halfway to his brain? Hate to see who he's going to bitch at."

Vaughn's face etiolated and jaw dropped to the desktop. Abandoning his papers and briefcase, he issued a small "eep" before running with reckless abandon down a random corridor.

Weiss could not hold in his laughter as the two remaining agents watched his rapidly retreating back. "And people call him a spy…Gosh, the way people throw around words these days; it's kinda like 'the best' or 'cool' or 'love'."

"Why's he in such a hurry? What's eating him?"

The male agent smiled slyly, still peering down the hallway where they last saw Agent Michael Vaughn. "Oh, it's nothing. Your father just probably saw you two fraternizing. He knows you two were late, by the way."

"Oh. Yeah, I better make like a banana and split, too. And in the opposite direction of Vaughn."

"Come on. You couldn't come up with a better pun than that? Not even 'make like a tree and leave'? And I thought you were a lit major."

"I'd shut up if I were you, Weiss. That is, if you ever plan on pleasing a female again."

"Lips shutting now."