Title: Captured Moments: 12 Days of Christmas
Author: Kira [kira at sd-1 dot com]
Genre: Romance/Fluff
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: We all know the drill. I don't own Alias, so please don't sue me. I'm already in debt. And even if you did sue me, it would come off my credit card and I'd still be in debt. So, right. You're better off leaving me be.
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Part Seven: Seven Swans A-Swimming
On the seventh day of Christmas, my true love sent to me:
Seven swans a-swimming,
Six geese a-laying,
Five golden rings,
Four calling birds,
Three French hens,
Two turtle doves,
And a partridge in a pear tree.
"Vaughn! If you keep eating the popcorn, I won't have any left for the tree!"
He sat cross-legged on one of the couch arms, a large light blue bowl on his lap with less popcorn in it than I'd have liked. Popping another handful of food intended to be a tree decoration into his mouth, he cocked his head to the side and gave me an innocent look as he munched on them.
"Popcorn doesn't belong on trees," was all he said. I shook my head and continued draping a completed string of popcorn and cranberries over the highest of the branches.
"And what did you put on your tree as a kid?" I asked of him, scrunching up my nose at an uncooperative piece of the strand, pushing it up around the branch in an effort to make it somewhat even. It didn't work, and I blew a strand of hair that had fallen in my face into the air before falling back onto the couch and grabbing some popcorn for myself.
"Heirlooms. The kind you can't touch and would die if you broke," Vaughn explained, popping a kernal into the air and catching it in his mouth. "Hell, you'd die if you looked at them in the wrong way." He repeated the toss again, leaning back dangerously far on the couch edge to catch it.
"Well, we always did this when I was younger," I stated as I threaded the needle and slid a cranberry down to the end. "Mom and I would sit in front of the tree and work on these for hours while dad begged her to let him put some real decorations on the tree."
"Your father? Not getting his way?" Vaughn sounded surprised. "Your mother must ha – "
And he stopped right there. Mouth shut and hands rested on either side of the bowl, a kernal pinched between his index finger and thumb on the hand closest to me. I stopped, letting the bag of cranberries fall into my lap, the open end spilling them over onto my pants and down to the floor.
"What?" I asked.
"Nothing. I just...wasn't thinking – "
"Listen, Vaughn, it doesn't bother me, really."
"It bothers me," he almost whispered. He let his chin fall to his chest, allowing it to rest there for a moment before raising it and sending me a smile. "Sorry. I can make you some more popcorn since I've eaten most of it." The smile deepened for a second as he untangled his legs and placed the large bowl on an endtable before stretching his arms above his head and eyeing the kitchen.
I wasn't going to let him go, though. It was Christmas, of all the times of the year, and most certainly not the time in which such heavy thoughts should be contemplated. My hand reached out, fingertips brushing against his forearm, goosebumps rising over it as he turned, puzzled. He did not, however, move his arm. I smiled and reached out farther, gripping his arm in a tight grasp and pulling him down, tossing the needle and half-threaded cranberries over onto the coffee table.
"Hi," I breathed down to him, collected in my lap as best he could be. His legs were kicked up over the edge of the couch, my left arm wrapped around his back, holding him up against me. His nose brushed against mine in an Eskimo kiss, breath hot on my face.
"Hi there," he replied.
"Listen. We need to talk about this."
"No, we don't."
I sighed and took a metaphorical step back from him, wishing to keep tree decorating a fun activity and keep him from becoming defensive. "All right. Just stop eating my popcorn, okay?"
"Don't tell me you never ate the popcorn," he quipped, arm snaking around my neck, the other resting on his knee.
"I did. I speak from experiance," I smirked. He nodded in understanding. "Want to help?"
"I thought I was already."
"Here," I dictated, handing him the half-empty bag of cranberries. He put them on one of his knees and looked up at me exectantly, following my hand as I reached behind him and retrieved my needle, putting it in his other hand. "Now, thread the needle through the middle."
"I feel like Martha Stewart is going to jump out from the hallway," he commented offhand, threading a few cranberries.
"She just might – you're supposed to do one cranberry, then one kernel of popcorn."
"You just gave me the needle and expect me to have the exact science of this down?"
I raised an eyebrow and looked up from my task of recovering the escaping cranberries. "Science?"
"One cranberry, one popcorn thing. Leaves no room for variation."
"Why, Michael Vaughn, are you, of all people, telling me to break the rules?"
He held up his hands, needle in one making him appear domestic. "Hey now, when it comes to you, I can throw all the rules out the window."
Vaughn really is incredibly sweet, and I tell him so by giving him a quick kiss. The hand behind my head pulled me forward into him, the needle and natural garland forgotten as he deepens the kiss, pulling me into him as if I'd fly away if he loosened his hold. I smile against his advance, the collected cranberries falling out of my hands as they round his back, spilling down it in a waterfall of red, my eyes closing –
And then his damned cell phone rang.
While most men would ignore the shrill set of notes, finding more entertainment and fulfillment in other activities involving their girlfriend and a nice couch, Vaughn is not most men, and he groans before falling backward off my lap. He lands like a cat, on his feet, and snatches the phone from his left jacket pocket, giving me a look of annoyance as he answers it.
So he is like most men, except for the whole federal agent part.
"Vaughn," he said curtly with just a hint of anger at the edge of his voice. I sighed and recollected the fallen cranberries, frowning at the three I found smashed on the carpeting. That wasn't going to come out easily, and I glanced up at Vaughn to clue him in to my domestic discomfort. He shook his head, giving a weak smile, and pointed to the kitchen before heading off in that direction.
I scrambled to gather the rest of them, hoping there were enough left to finish the tree. It was already lopsided and only covering half of it with the garland would just be a death sentence to any kind of normal celebration around it.
"Yes, mom," I heard from the kitchen. Grinning, I stood from behind the couch and watched him pace the small area that served as my kitchen. "No, wait – what?"
He stopped in the middle of the room, hand rubbing his forehead. His eyes flickered to me for a second, worried, before he turned his back to me and retreated deeper into the kitchen.
Oh, he wasn't going to get away with that. Armed with my bag of cranberries and the half-empty bowl of popcorn, I entered the kitchen and plopped the items down on the counter next to him, giving him a grin. He looked down at me, wondering why I was there, and I motioned to the cranberries before crouching down to dig through the cleaning supplies in search of some Resolve or carpet cleaner of some kind. If Francie came home and saw red blotches on the carpeting, she'd freak, something I wished to avoid at all times. With our friendship as shaky as it was because of the increased amount of secrets not only I had to keep, but Will as well, anything that sparked argument was damaging.
Vaughn let out a sigh and hit his forehead against the wall with a thud. "Yeah, I'll – no, no, don't do that. I just have to figure something out." With the last part of his sentence, he snuck a glance over in my direction and lowered his voice. "But that thing is still on, right?"
What thing? Still on? And what did that have to do with his mother?
"I've got to go."
He mumbled some more things into the phone, but had switched, for some reason, to French as his voice lowered and I swore he was talking into the wall. If he was trying to keep something from me before, he certainly was trying his hardest to do so now. And it wasn't all that covert – it was a horrible attempt. He mumbled a bit more, then hung up, closing his eyes as he still leaned against the wall, the phone falling to his side.
"What's going on?" I asked, walking to his side, resting a hand on his shoulder. It was tense under my touch, muscles moving as he pulled his head from the wall and looked at me.
"Sorry about that. Just some problem with transportation for Christmas," he answered. "Remember my nephew?"
"Yes."
"Well, there's a problem with their tickets, and my mom's worried they won't be able to make it down by Christmas."
I really wanted to say something nice. Something hopeful about his nephew being able to make it, that fate would allow it. But something like that would only seal, in my mind, the fact that if that all happened, the chances of Vaughn sticking with me for Christmas would be next to none, and being alone was something I couldn't face at the moment.
"I'm sure it will all work out," I said quietly.
"He's going to love you," Vaughn commented offhand, rolling his shoulders. Wait – what?
I took a step back, mouth open wide. "What?" was all I managed to croak. Right. A master's degree in literature and all I can manage is 'what'.
"My nephew," he stopped, narrowing his eyes. "You seriously didn't think I wasn't going to take you with me when I went to my mother's?"
"No," I said as if I were three inches tall, my hands suddenly extremely interesting. He laughed that short, small laugh he used when amused by something, and took my hands in his.
"Of course I'm going to. Syd, I want nothing more than to spend Christmas with you."
I nodded meekly.
"After all this time, I can't believe you'd doubt that," he sighed, folding my hands between his. My attention was drawn to them like a train wreck, wide and shocked yet confused at the same time.
Inside, I was dancing. Jumping up and down like I had when I got my first car. My first date. Any kind of milestone moment when intense joy was felt and jubilee was expected. Being the super spy I was, I kept it bottled up inside, years of being required to hide my emotions unbreakable by such a moment.
"I just thought, with your mom, my mom – "
A finger came up to rest just over my lips, the simple touch raising goose bumps on my arms and causing my heart to skip a beat. His own lips brushed my forehead, lingering there for just a second before he moved back, their imprint hot against my skin; a fading memory.
"We can't change the past, so why worry about it? Yes, it's an issue, and yes, we should talk about it, but right now, we're going to enjoy Christmas. Live in the now, not then," he said softly, breath warm on my right ear as his chin rested on my shoulder. He looked like a hunchback, being more than a couple inches taller than I, but he wasn't complaining, so neither would I.
Vaughn twisted, standing to face me now, and wrapped an arm around my waist, hand resting just over the edge of my stomach, warm and inviting. Cupped to his body now, he straightened out to look down on me as if I were some precious statue, a hand resting on my cheek. It's amazing what a well placed hand can do to me, his doubly so.
"You're not her," he whispered. "You're Syd. My Syd. I wouldn't have you any other way." His fingers started dancing on my side so subtly I wasn't squirming from being tickled, but could feel them move; dancing slowly in random patterns over my skin, smoothing lines as if savoring a fine wine. They moved not only on my skin, but under it, creating an itch only he could relieve.
In short, it was driving me wildly insane.
"Prove it," I challenged him, planting a kiss just at the edge of his jaw line beneath his ear. Soft and fast, I repeated it for my own amusement, his face falling into the crook of my neck as I traced a line down his jaw to his chin, lips teasing his bottom one. He sighed against my throat, tongue darting out for a second against my pulse.
I'm positive it was jumping in a mad rush.
And just as I started to move up on the other side of his face, he groaned and tightened his hold around my waist.
"For the love of God," he muttered, and pulled my face violently from along his jaw to his lips, kissing me hard and fast without pretence, pushing me into the counter behind us. Popcorn cascaded to the floor as the lip of the linoleum bit into my back, the bowl crashing down at our feet.
I swear this man has special skills. In no time at all, my legs were wrapped around his waist and he was carrying me back towards my bedroom, able to walk and drive me wild at the same time.
Screw the tree. I had more pressing things to attend to.
I cracked one eye open, was shocked by sunlight, and closed it with a groan. Sunlight gives light, they told me in school, and allows life to flourish. It also gives headaches and a sense of responsibility. Nighttime was shrouded in secrecy and mystery, when anything was possible, but daytime, daytime meant work and bills, errands and tasks that needed to get done.
Doing what any sensible woman would do when faced with a morning after a wonderful night, I snuggled closer to the body in bed with me with a content smile on my face.
Except there wasn't one there.
Confused, I opened my eyes and scrunched up my nose, longing for that snuggle time I really, really enjoyed. The other side of the bed was empty, Vaughn sitting on the floor against the door, an envelope in his hand. He was dressed, if you could call it that, wearing his boxers discarded so carelessly the night before. I shifted, crawling across the white sheets to face him, lying on my stomach with the sheets tangled around me. Pushing some hair out of my face with my entire hand, I smiled down at him.
He positively glowed back and held up the card he had been reading.
"Better wake up," he said, grinning like an idiot. "We've got plans tonight."
"Plans?" I asked back. I didn't want plans. I wanted more time to decorate the tree and be alone with him before another mission called and pulled us away from each other. He nodded, dropping the card on the floor at the edge of the room.
"Yep," he smiled, walking on his knees over to me. I kissed his nose and laid my head on his hands placed on the edge of the bed. "A party."
"I like parties," I'm sure is what I mumbled. His hands moved from under my head and ran down my sides, causing me to shiver under his touch. He laughed deeply.
"Me too," he said, climbing up onto the bed with me. "But it isn't until tonight."
"Breaking the rules again?" I smirked. He nodded, wrapping his arms around me.
"Oh, most definitely."