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 Eight: Eight Maids a-MilkingOn the eighth day of Christmas, my true love sent to me
Eight maids a-milking,
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.
Apparently, it was a tradition, one I'd been told about the year before, but not privy to participate in myself, the looming threat of SD-6 a definite deterrent from sending me an invitation. But the day after, I'd met for a counter mission, unhappy about being asked to meet within the cold cage of the self-storage facility, to find Vaughn grinning like an idiot despite a sunken, tired expression and rumpled suit. Curious, I'd asked him about it, used to seeing him in freshly pressed suits no matter what time of day it was.
"What happened to you?" I asked, steps taking me right in front of where he half-sat on an empty crate.
"Weiss' holiday party," he said.
"Did you even sleep?"
"Uh..I don't think so."
I narrowed my eyes, wondering how you could be unsure if you'd slept or not. Perhaps years of working and overseas flights had given me a heads up when it came to figuring out if I'd gotten enough sleep or not. But judging by his vacant look and degree of un-kept stubble dotting his face, I could tell not only had he missed a night of sleep, but had yet to go home.
And here he was, sitting here because of a phone call I'd made selfishly with concern for only my own welfare.
"Go home," I told him softly, eyes dipping to the ground. He shifted on the crate and rested a hand behind him lazily, almost lounging inside the professional confines of our hidden sanctuary.
"I told you I was always there for you. What's wrong?" Concern was laced through his tired words, and he stifled an escalating yawn as best he could, a hand politely saving me from having to look down his throat. He groaned a bit into the yawn, the sound falling into a sigh as he massaged the back of his neck with the hand already in front of his face.
"Tell me about the party," I said, leaning on the crate besides him. He turned to me, hand returning to lean behind him as he scooted up to completely sit on the crate.
"Are you sure?"
"I just need something happy, normal," I sighed, tucking my hair behind my ears.
"Well, I wouldn't exactly call Weiss' parties normal. Just think of who's throwing them," he commented wryly.
"You look like you fun," I observed. He grinned and nodded enthusiastically.
"I did. Nothing like a party of Eric's to lift the spirits."
And he told me, complete with animated gestures and a full range of facial expressions that were a welcome change from his mask of disconnection and worry. The picture painted vividly in my mind, a secret wish of mine soon became a longing to take down SD-6 so I could attend the party on Vaughn's arm.
Reading the invitation for the fourth time, I couldn't help but grin as I looked over the hastily typed sheet of paper laid out in the same style of fraternity flyers I'd seen tacked to overcrowded bulletin boards in college. More proof that Weiss had never grown up, and was a fantastic actor when it came to his current profession.
"What's that?"
I looked up, having totally forgotten Will had come home a little while ago from work. He sat next to me and snatched the paper from my hands.
"Party at Weiss' in," I leaned back and checked the time on my alarm clock, "an hour and a half."
"Yeah, he was talking about it at work today," Will grinned, handing the paper back. "And I got more than a few warnings from other agents. You're seriously going to go?"
"Will, I've wanted to go since I heard about it last year," I chided, fumbling off the bed in search of an outfit for the gathering.
"From Vaughn?"
"Yeah. He's gone for years and he's still alive," I replied, pulling open the doors to my closet with a flourish of color.
"Well, he's Weiss' best friend – I'm sure there's some kind of rule that says you have to spare the friend."
"So I'll be safe through association," I commented to a pink shirt way out of season. Wrinkling my nose, I pushed it aside in search of something in season and warm enough so I wouldn't have to bring a jacket. The hangers scratched against the rod above as I worked through my clothes at a frantic speed, happy to just be able to go to a party without wearing next to nothing in skin-tight blue.
"Yeah."
I stopped, my fingers playing with the sleeve of a festive red sweater. "You're not going? Don't tell me you're not going – you have to!"
"Oh, I'm going," he laughed. "Just informed."
"About what?"
I hid my grin against the fuzzy red turtleneck as Vaughn entered the bedroom, leaning on the doorframe near Will. It had been slow going, but the pair of men had come to some kind of unspoken understanding, the glares and sarcastic quips subsiding as a friendship bloomed as result of a common connection. I pulled the sweater from the hanger and slipped it over my black tank top, shifting the waistband of my black jeans to work right with the rising hem of the sweater.
At least I had the body to wear the outfit, the physical demands of my job keeping me in shape. I pulled my hair out from the neck of my sweater and put my hands on my hips. Something, from this outfit, was missing.
"This crazy party," Will answered Vaughn's interjection into our loose conversation. "How long has he been doing this?"
"Six years, ever since he moved to LA," Vaughn said, looking like some kind of fashion model in a long-sleeved green shirt and a pair of beige cargo pants. And he was all mine. Don't think I didn't see the looks he attracted from women when we went out together – he got more than a few. Maybe a more insecure woman would be worried, but he knew, as well as I, that I could kick his ass if he ever double crossed me. That was all the security I needed.
"His way of making friends," he commented to Will before turning his attention to me. "Anyway, we've got to go."
"It doesn't start for another hour."
"I know, but I always go help him out," he said, pushing off the frame. Snatching a necklace from the mess of jewelry on my dresser, I crossed the room and gave Vaughn a quick kiss on the lips.
"You're such a softy."
"Shh," he murmured, putting a finger to my lips, "it's a secret." I raised an eyebrow and backed away, catching a murderous look on Will's face before he smiled at me over Vaughn's shoulder.
"Well, you're in trouble, because Weiss is the one that told me."
He laughed, putting an arm around my shoulders, his chest rumbling softly from his laughter and quivering through me as he led me from the bedroom and planted a kiss on the crown of my head. Will pattered behind us and disappeared into his own room, leaving Vaughn and I in the center of my kitchen area.
"Shoes!" I cried, slipping out from under his arm, twisting around and freeing myself with ease. He turned, most probably astounded by my awesome abilities, and leaned up against the counter. I grappled around for my nice black boots – comfortable like you wouldn't imagine yet stylish and attention-grabbing – and slipped them on, swooping back to a standing position as I zippered both up at the same time.
And almost hit Vaughn square in the face with my head.
He leaned in ever so slightly, nose brushing against mine as I smirked and leaned into his inviting lips, pressing against them for a light kiss. An arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me close as his tongue played along my lips, beckoning and tempting as mine parted in a soft moan. His teeth bit down on my bottom one before his tongue moved to mingle with my own, and I did nothing to stop myself from becoming jelly, letting his arm keep me standing as he probed deeper.
My hands rested flat on his chest, elbows bent as he held me tight against him, one of his hands playing with my hair, holding my head steady as he seemed to suck the breath from me. Just before I felt I could last no longer, he pulled back, nipping my swollen lips twice before leaning his forehead against mine.
"Ready to go?" he whispered, breath hot against my cheeks. And no, I was not ready to go. Go where? Away from here? But here we have a bed, and if we can't make it that far, a couch. Why would I want to go somewhere when I could spend another amazing evening with you?
But instead of saying all of that, I simply put my hands on his shoulders and said, "Yeah."
And that was that.
The house was a disaster.
Vaughn didn't even bother with ringing the doorbell; a sign taped to the door addressed to him told him to get his ass inside before Weiss went insane, a smaller note at the bottom telling him he'd pay for being late. Vaughn snickered at the note and tore it down with one hand, crumbling the white printer paper as he stepped into the house and slipped off his shoes.
I followed suit, simply amazed by the disorganized nature of the house and how someone could live in such a place. It was a nice ranch style home, though, and could be something from a magazine if kept properly. Vaughn led me down the main hallway, past an unused dining room and staircase, to the kitchen and living room in the back portion of the house where Weiss was arguing with a bottle opener and beer.
"Hey," Vaughn gave a nod of his head and tossed his light suede jacket on the back of one of the bar stools. Weiss threw the bottle into the trash and glared at Vaughn.
"Where the hell have you been?" he demanded. I took this chance to walk up to him and give him a bear hug. "Hey there, Sydney."
"Hi. So…what happened here? A tornado?"
"Huh?" he asked, looking to Vaughn for clarification.
"This is clean, Syd," he remarked. "Eric's not the…most organized person in the world."
"So how'd he end up your friend?" I shot back. It was no secret that Vaughn was one of the most organized people on the planet, his obsession bordering on obsessive-compulsive. I told him the day he came home and started straightening the fringe on my rug was the last day he was coming home to me. He laughed, but I suspect he was a bit nervous about that.
"Hey now, kids, break it up," Weiss mocked. "We've got stuff to do."
"You haven't brought the table up yet," Vaughn observed as Weiss opened the fridge. He held his hand out, and Weiss deposited a bottle in it as he rounded the island in the middle of his kitchen.
"Share," he said to me, "cause there isn't much of the good stuff."
"Good to know," I replied, and took a swig of Vaughn's just after he opened it. He cried out in exclamation, snagging it back before glaring and leaving the kitchen. I stood dumbfounded, and looked to Weiss for an answer.
"Hey," he held his hands up in surrender, "don't get between a man and his beer."
"I feel like I'm back in college."
"Haha, very funny, Miss Bristow. Wanna get the food out for me? It's in the fridge." And he disappeared in the same direction of Vaughn, apparently going for the table stored...somewhere.
I shook my head and headed for the fridge, almost frightened of what I'd find inside. Just as I was about to pull it open, my eyes caught sight of a note on the freezer door, and I paused, looked over my shoulder, then read. In a scrawl that was unmistakably that of my boyfriend was:
11:37 am
A. V, E
12
What the hell did that mean?
I'd seen my share of shorthand, but this was just baffling. It wasn't even in a code of any kind, and seemed as if only the most important elements had been written down. A.V. While the Audio/Video club from my high school came to mind, I doubt he was making a reference to that. And 11:37 was such an odd time. Why not 11:30, or 11:35, a rounder, easier measure of time? And 12? Well, while I'd like to think that's their combined mental age, I'm sure it referred to something else. Door 12? Apartment 12? Gate 12? House 12?
Or 12 wonderful long-stemmed roses, the romantic side of me commented.
A thump brought my attention back to the fact that I was standing in the middle of Eric Weiss' kitchen, preparing for a crazy, insane party that was going to start in less than an hour. And I wasn't alone in the house.
Tearing my eyes from the note, I pulled three plastic wrapped platters from the refrigerator and plopped them down on the island, pulling the wrap off them as Weiss and Vaughn rounded the corner, an 8-foot table balanced between the both of them. Weiss was at the losing end, and finally just dropped his side on the floor before bending over with his hands on his knees.
"Wimp," Vaughn teased, dragging the table the rest of the way to run the length of the hallway just inside the carpeted area of the small off-side living room.
"Yeah, I'm not running around the world with hot secret agents," Weiss bit back, regaining his breath. He straightened and went to work on pulling the legs out from under the table, working with Vaughn to plop it upright.
"That's no reason," Vaughn replied. I moved back into the confines of the kitchen and started looking for other items that needed to go out.
"Just keep to yourself, okay? I know how Mary looks at you, and I was hopin' tonight might – "
Vaughn cut him off with a groan. "You're still pining over her? What has it been? Six months?"
"Hello! Year and a half. And, I might add, still successful."
I blushed at the declaration, the words being the first time I'd heard someone say what I'd felt was right; that Vaughn's feelings for me had started almost the instant we met.
"That was different," Vaughn shot back.
"How?"
"Do I really need to spell it out for you?"
"Yes, Mr. Vaughn, and after that, can we color pictures?" Weiss replied, his voice several octaves higher in his own imitation of a school child. "C'mon, Michael, don't fight me on this."
"I'm not!"
"Yes you are," Weiss retorted. I swung out of the kitchen just in time to see him lean close to Vaughn and rest a hand on his shoulder. "Or do you know something I don't?"
"Right. Because I spend my free time talking to the women you have a crush on. Which, I might add, would take all day," he sighed. Weiss then moved the hand from Vaughn's shoulder and ran it up his face, sighing himself. I held a hand over my mouth, hoping to contain my laughter as Vaughn's face slackened his eyes opened wide.
"Why do you fight me so?" Weiss almost sang, leaning in –
- and Vaughn promptly snatched Weiss' arm and swung him around, Weiss crashing against the wall near the entranceway to the kitchen. If I'd had any doubts about Vaughn having been a field agent before, they fled as he seemed completely at ease after performing a martial arts move on his best friend.
I rushed over and took Weiss' hand, helping him back up. The pair of us glared at Vaughn, who shoved his hands into his pockets and looked completely innocent. So innocent, I could feel bad about wanting to pull him into an unoccupied room and –
"He was hitting on me!"
"Was not. Get a grip, Mike."
"Okay, can we just finish setting up?" I asked. "Because people will be here soon."
After someone jumped up onto the kitchen table and started dancing, I knew Vaughn hadn't embellished any last year when he re-told his experience at the party.
Two hours in, when most would just start getting drunk, half the attendees, people I didn't know and already feared, were loud, obnoxious, and dancing on Weiss' small table. I clutched Vaughn's arm with two hands as we stood just outside the ring of people cheering the dancer, a man I'd been introduced to as "Boxer", as he swung his hips and sang along to a bad 80's song pouring out of Weiss' impressively large and nice stereo.
"Is this normal?" I cried over the music. Vaughn looked down at me, puzzled, and I repeated myself. He nodded and leaned down close to my ear.
"Perfectly. Actually, I'm surprised the police haven't been called yet."
"Police?" I exclaimed. He nodded and leaned in again.
"Yeah. Eric's neighbors don't appreciate our parties."
"As in, more than one?"
"Welcome to the group," he must have grinned as he said that, and pressed a kiss to the soft skin just behind my ear, lingering there long enough for someone near us to tell us to find a room.
That person had a great idea.
But alas, Vaughn merely laughed and shot a retort back to the shouter. He extracted his arm from my death grip and snaked it around my waist, thumb looped through my jeans belt loop, tugging down on them slightly. I shoved my hands in my pockets, my right one under his. His grip was strong and inviting, granting me safety and sanity among the unreal scene around us.
It was a laughable idea – that of Vaughn attending wild parties of Eric's. He was such a straight arrow that his codename was perfect for him. He didn't break rules, didn't live on the wild side. But now that I thought about it, he'd made references and allusions to going to friends' places for the night before. Didn't he say he met up with Alice at a friend's before?
Oh no. Alice.
If there was one thing I didn't want to deal with right now, it was the arrival of Alice. I could feel my heart race up, and I was sure my palms started sweating. Being the psychic man he was, Vaughn weaved me through the growing crowd to the unused dining room and sat me in one of the chairs.
"What's wrong?" he asked. He stood before me like a statue, one hand tucked on his hip while the other rested on my left shoulder, eyes shimmering with worry. The party continued on beyond our vision, a loud whoop from Weiss signaling the end of Boxer's dance. Yes. That's it. Because I didn't want to think of what else it could have been for.
"Nothing, nothing's wrong," I replied. There was no reason for me to bring down his fun because I was uncomfortable or afraid of an ex-girlfriend.
He raised an eyebrow and let a corner of his lips rise ruefully. "You really think I can't see through you?"
"Vaughn," I nearly whined, "let's just go back to the party."
"You heard Adam. He told us to get a room."
"I don't think he meant it this way," I shot back. Enough was enough, and I wasn't going to sit here under his gaze while he gave me the third degree. I stood, or at least tried to, but he pushed me back down into the chair and swept down on me, straddling my legs as he sat on my lap facing me.
"It's, well, you said before," I started, but paused. Our relationship was already strange, a challenge because of our intertwined pasts and present situation. Trust was a cornerstone, a foundation we needed more than anything to remain afloat in the ocean of our own secrets, and while I'd been hiding things from him for the past week, I learned just yesterday there was no reason to, that he could read me like an open book.
"What?"
"That when you got back with Alice, you saw her at a friends – "
"Oh, come on," he groaned while slapping his forehead. "Do you really think I'd bring you if she were around? Or want to be somewhere around her even? I'm with you, Syd, not her, not anyone else. And I feel that I'd die if ever separated from you." His hands slipped down to my hips, resting on the sliver of exposed skin between my sweater and jeans.
I think I was melting. If from the heat of his hands riding on my hips or the undeniable emotion behind his words, I don't know.
"You've got to know you own me by now," he grinned. "And if you'd like to see a grown man reduced to nothing, just leave me, even for a day. An hour."
"I might take you up on that challenge," I joked.
"Don't," he whispered, his head falling on my shoulder. I ran my hand down the back of his head, stopping at the base of his neck, my entire hand gripping it, my fingers working into his skin, fingers brushing the edge of his shoulders. He shifted his face in the crook of my neck, a soft, fast kiss planted there as I finished on his neck. Vaughn didn't move quickly, instead, he took his time, tracing a flaming line from my neck to my ear, a trail of fire left when he finally pushed himself upright.
"There you are!" Peering over Vaughn's shoulder, I found Weiss standing in the cutout for the living room, his arm around a pretty girl with blond hair and brown eyes. Vaughn turned, looking at her himself, and stood quickly, pulling me up with him.
"Mary?" I whispered.
"Anna," he replied to me. He swung around me to face his friend, highly amused. "What's up?"
"Boxer lost $100, needs to borrow some."
"And?"
"You owe him for last year."
Last year? "What happened last year?"
"Nothing," both said at the same time, and Weiss said something to Anna that made her giggle drunkenly and be whisked away to…some other part of the house.
I faced Vaughn. "Vaughn…"
"Nothing!" he squeaked, and darted out of the room so fast, I almost had to run to catch up to him. By the time I did catch up with him, he was laughing at some joke in a circle of men near the refrigerator, and I couldn't help but glare as he paled and took a large drink of his beer. I slithered through the men and leaned into his side, his arm automatically wrapping around my shoulders.
"So guys," I piped up as soon as their laugher died. "What happened last year?"
I think that was the first time Vaughn actually wanted to kill me.