Around This Corner [1/1]
Author: denise*
Rating: PG13 (for language, implied "mature" situations)
Timeline: Post-Lauren being discovered ... it was written before we knew the whole story, so it's slightly AU. Just go with it.
Summary: "I thought we were only going to do it once!!" Sydney. Vaughn. Jack. Grilled cheese.
Author's Note: Whewf, haven't published a fic in God knows how long ... I'm probably completely out of touch. This is for the March/April challenge ... durr. Yes. Reviews are heavenly. The title is the title of one of my favourite Sarah Harmer songs ... I don't know why I picked it. Well, yes I do. I couldn't think of anything at all and it's what I listened to while writing most of this fic.
Special thanks goes out to the most wonderful beta a girl could ask for ... Emmy! I mean Emma.
"Well, this is awkward."
Thank you, Sydney. Three years in law school and fifteen as a spy, I had learned some basic observational skills. Some.
I looked from Sydney, to Jack and then back to Sydney again. Until that moment, I had never really seen the resemblance between the two of them. However, until that moment, I had never seen their matching death glares side by side. I could definitely see the resemblance. I thanked God Irina wasn't there either. If she was, I might as well have laced my drink with arsenic and died right then and there, because life just wasn't worth living if I had to go through another moment with the parents of the girl I was sleeping with.
Not that I considered Sydney to just be the girl I was sleeping with. It was Jack and Irina who thought of me as the boy Sydney was sleeping with therefore when around them ... well, you follow my logic.
To understand how I could have found myself in the most awkward dinner of my life isn't very difficult. Sydney, Jack and I had had dinners like this three years ago, before Sydney died, I went deep cover and married a Covenant agent named Lauren, Sydney came back from the dead, and finally, I shot Lauren before she got the chance to shoot me. Our marriage could have been considered dysfunctional, at best. When people ask me how Sydney and I met, I just don't know what to say. Even Jack would admit that the truth is absolutely ridiculous.
Weiss was sitting eating (no surprises there) next to Sydney and I in the Ops Centre one sunny afternoon. Weiss had bought a box of Girlscout cookies and crossed out the girl and written boy in its place. He thought it was unfair that no one had dedicated a cookie to me. Personally, I happen to agree, however, that afternoon, I just brooded and wrinkled my forehead, as I tend to do very often. Sydney and I were arguing over who picked the dry cleaning up last time when Jack came over and sat down next to us. Normally I would have begun having a panic attack, however, I was not picking up the dry cleaning again. The place Sydney insisted on going was run by a bunch of crazy Greek immigrants who had seen 'My Big Fat Greek Wedding' forty too many times. The husband, who used to be normal, or so Sydney says, now sprays me in the face with Windex every time I come in. He says that for an extra $5 he will clean my suits with some East German laundry detergent.
I was not picking up the laundry again. I was blinded for four hours last time that crazy man sprayed me in the eye.
"Sydney, Vaughn, I'm sure your lives are very trying, however, national security does not depend on which one of you has to face Antilochus next."
I wanted to know how Jack knew his name, however, that could wait.
"Hi ... Jack."
"Hello, Vaughn. I was wondering if the two of you were free for dinner tonight."
We had actually been planning on going over to my apartment and watching something and then maybe making a little love. Well, at least that's what I had been hoping for. I hadn't really discussed it with Sydney, but I was going to before she mentioned she needed me to pick up some dry cleaning. I'm not sure if having not very good plans that I hadn't discussed with Sydney really counted as being busy. Or at least busy enough to avoid dinner with Jack Bristow.
Sydney looked at me and I nodded, and a sombre look came over my face, as she spoke those horrible words. "No, not at all, Dad."
Eric put his arm on my shoulder in sympathy as I stared at Jack's lapel.
"Alright. Well, then I'll meet you at Al's at, seven thirty?"
My eyes darted to Jack's in horror. Al's was probably the greasiest restaurant in LA. The fact that there was no Al, but had actually been named that way since it was "LA" backwards should have told you something about this place.
"I love their grilled cheese," said Jack, and that's the exact moment hell froze over.
He was messing with my mind. He had to be.
Sydney's face mirrored my own. She lowered her head, and then looked back up at her father. "Are you serious?"
"Yes. Now if you two will excuse me, I need to see Dixon. Don't forget, seven thirty!"
Sydney, Weiss and I turned around and looked at each other, then shook our heads.
"Well, I need a drink," I said.
"Sweetie, it's nine AM."
"I'm going to need a lot to get through this day."
"So do I, Vaughn, but you're not showing up to dinner drunk."
"Yeah, you definitely don't want the Vaughnster here drunk with any kind of important figure," said Weiss, chiming in at the most inappropriate of times.
I stared at him in horror. He could not do this to me. He could not tell this story right now.
"What?" asked Sydney.
Oh no.
"Well, you see, this one time, we were supposed to have dinner with our English professor, since, well, our marks were less than exemplary. So we tried to take him out to dinner."
Oh nonononono. Please God no.
"So, to loosen up before dinner, we went out for drinks. One turned into two, two turned into three ... you get my drift. Vaughn here was a bit ... plastered."
"So were you!"
"Yes, I was, but at least I was the one who remembered about the dinner. We showed up two hours late, and when we got there and our professor wasn't there anymore, Vaughn got so upset he started to cry, ordered a margarita, and spilled it down my shirt."
"Wow," said Sydney. "Maybe you should just have some Altoid's to calm down," she said before running off in the other direction while almost dying from laughing.
"I hate you, man," I mumbled.
Weiss slapped me on the back. "It's not my fault you can't hold your alcohol!" I hoped he died spontaneously. Unfortunately, life just doesn't work that way.
***
"Vaughn, it won't be that bad," Sydney said, coming up behind me and adjusting my collar.
I didn't have any idea what to wear. I mean, dinner with Jack Bristow usually consisted of an eight-course meal, not a bacon double cheeseburger. I would look ridiculous wearing a dress shirt, but what if Jack wore a fucking tux? It would be just like him, to try and out-do me like that.
However, he would look pretty damn ridiculous. I would definitely enjoy that.
Sydney kissed my neck lightly, and then adjusted the collar on my polo shirt once again. "You look ridiculous," she giggled.
"Need I remind you you're wearing a matching shirt?"
"It's not my fault we both decided that polo shirts were the safest thing to wear to dinner."
"Somehow, somehow I think it is. It tends to be your fault pretty damn often."
She stood beside him in the mirror and raised her chin. "We're absolutely adorable."
"Take the damn polo shirt off, Sydney!"
"No!"
"Don't make me make you! I'm not going to go to dinner with Jack Bristow, wearing a polo shirt that matches his daughter's! We're too preppy. We can't live like this."
"That must be better than the world of international espionage."
"Trust me, it's not. Haven't you ever watched The O.C."
"Oh God. Weiss was right. You really are a girl."
"I'm going to rip that shirt off."
"I dare you."
Oh no. Not a dare. I hoped Syd didn't like that shirt too much ...
***
"I thought we were only going to do it once!" said Sydney, completely panicked, as she grabbed her car keys and rushed to the car.
"Sydney this was the worst idea ever. He's actually going to shoot us both in the face. We're going to be forty-five minutes late for dinner at Al's."
"Well at least we're not wearing matching shirts anymore."
"Yeah, because I destroyed yours, and you ... did other things with mine."
"Well we don't match anymore."
"Well we look like we just had sex on your bedroom floor."
"One of the side effects of having sex on my bedroom floor."
"It's my favourite side effect."
"Really? I have many others."
I shifted uncomfortably. "Shut up and drive."
***
When we arrived at the restaurant an hour late, Jack barely noticed. He looked up from his beer and newspaper and nodded us over.
He was wearing a polo shirt too.
Fantastic.
Sydney and I sat down next to each other, opposite Jack. I began perusing the drinks menu. It was never too early to start planning ahead. Who knew how horrific of a turn the evening would take? I was only half-listening when Jack and Sydney started chatting half-heartedly. "I didn't know if the two of you were going to show up or not. I thought maybe you had forgotten."
"The traffic was horrific," Sydney said, glancing at me sceptically. She did not approve of my drinking habit.
"You should have taken the expressway, it was clear."
"We did –" I began before realizing how big of an idiot I was, and started wishing I had been listening.
Sydney and Jack started at me.
"... we did plan on taking it, but I heard there was construction."
Oh, great, as though that lie couldn't be verified.
"I see," said Jack. He pursed his lips, and then began talking to Sydney again. I debated the merits of tequila. Sure, it would dull the pain in the short term, but in the long term, Jack would probably judge me and accuse Sydney of dating an alcoholic.
"So, how's your dog, Vaughn?"
What the hell was wrong with this man. "Donovan ... Donovan is doing well. He's staying at Weiss's right now."
I really had to start thinking before speaking. Donovan spent most weekends with Eric since Sydney and I had gotten back together.
"You haven't been in the field lately, though ..."
"Weiss breeds dogs."
"Oh."
Sydney just stared at me.
"So, does ... Donovan, is it? Does Donovan ... father many puppies?"
Please kill me now.
Sydney snatched the drinks menu from my hand and immediately called the waitress over, ordering something very, very soothing. I shot her an invidious look. I didn't want to be the designated driver. Now that I had exposed Sydney's lie and made up stories about Weiss breeding dogs, I was going to need as much alcohol in my system as possible.
"This is actually Donovan's first time."
Holy fuck.
"Weiss was desperate. His other bulldog died."
"Oh, I'll have to pass along my condolences."
We lapsed back into silence and then suddenly Jack looked straight at me. "I thought Weiss had a cat."
Sydney exhaled heavily and I grabbed the drinks menu from her hand. Screw it, I was going to need a lot of alcohol. Dinner had never been this painful before. Jack stared at me, I stared at Sydney, and Sydney stared at Jack.
"Well, this is awkward."
P.S. I know Weiss has a dog, but, well, it was easier to just make him have a cat.
Author: denise*
Rating: PG13 (for language, implied "mature" situations)
Timeline: Post-Lauren being discovered ... it was written before we knew the whole story, so it's slightly AU. Just go with it.
Summary: "I thought we were only going to do it once!!" Sydney. Vaughn. Jack. Grilled cheese.
Author's Note: Whewf, haven't published a fic in God knows how long ... I'm probably completely out of touch. This is for the March/April challenge ... durr. Yes. Reviews are heavenly. The title is the title of one of my favourite Sarah Harmer songs ... I don't know why I picked it. Well, yes I do. I couldn't think of anything at all and it's what I listened to while writing most of this fic.
Special thanks goes out to the most wonderful beta a girl could ask for ... Emmy! I mean Emma.
"Well, this is awkward."
Thank you, Sydney. Three years in law school and fifteen as a spy, I had learned some basic observational skills. Some.
I looked from Sydney, to Jack and then back to Sydney again. Until that moment, I had never really seen the resemblance between the two of them. However, until that moment, I had never seen their matching death glares side by side. I could definitely see the resemblance. I thanked God Irina wasn't there either. If she was, I might as well have laced my drink with arsenic and died right then and there, because life just wasn't worth living if I had to go through another moment with the parents of the girl I was sleeping with.
Not that I considered Sydney to just be the girl I was sleeping with. It was Jack and Irina who thought of me as the boy Sydney was sleeping with therefore when around them ... well, you follow my logic.
To understand how I could have found myself in the most awkward dinner of my life isn't very difficult. Sydney, Jack and I had had dinners like this three years ago, before Sydney died, I went deep cover and married a Covenant agent named Lauren, Sydney came back from the dead, and finally, I shot Lauren before she got the chance to shoot me. Our marriage could have been considered dysfunctional, at best. When people ask me how Sydney and I met, I just don't know what to say. Even Jack would admit that the truth is absolutely ridiculous.
Weiss was sitting eating (no surprises there) next to Sydney and I in the Ops Centre one sunny afternoon. Weiss had bought a box of Girlscout cookies and crossed out the girl and written boy in its place. He thought it was unfair that no one had dedicated a cookie to me. Personally, I happen to agree, however, that afternoon, I just brooded and wrinkled my forehead, as I tend to do very often. Sydney and I were arguing over who picked the dry cleaning up last time when Jack came over and sat down next to us. Normally I would have begun having a panic attack, however, I was not picking up the dry cleaning again. The place Sydney insisted on going was run by a bunch of crazy Greek immigrants who had seen 'My Big Fat Greek Wedding' forty too many times. The husband, who used to be normal, or so Sydney says, now sprays me in the face with Windex every time I come in. He says that for an extra $5 he will clean my suits with some East German laundry detergent.
I was not picking up the laundry again. I was blinded for four hours last time that crazy man sprayed me in the eye.
"Sydney, Vaughn, I'm sure your lives are very trying, however, national security does not depend on which one of you has to face Antilochus next."
I wanted to know how Jack knew his name, however, that could wait.
"Hi ... Jack."
"Hello, Vaughn. I was wondering if the two of you were free for dinner tonight."
We had actually been planning on going over to my apartment and watching something and then maybe making a little love. Well, at least that's what I had been hoping for. I hadn't really discussed it with Sydney, but I was going to before she mentioned she needed me to pick up some dry cleaning. I'm not sure if having not very good plans that I hadn't discussed with Sydney really counted as being busy. Or at least busy enough to avoid dinner with Jack Bristow.
Sydney looked at me and I nodded, and a sombre look came over my face, as she spoke those horrible words. "No, not at all, Dad."
Eric put his arm on my shoulder in sympathy as I stared at Jack's lapel.
"Alright. Well, then I'll meet you at Al's at, seven thirty?"
My eyes darted to Jack's in horror. Al's was probably the greasiest restaurant in LA. The fact that there was no Al, but had actually been named that way since it was "LA" backwards should have told you something about this place.
"I love their grilled cheese," said Jack, and that's the exact moment hell froze over.
He was messing with my mind. He had to be.
Sydney's face mirrored my own. She lowered her head, and then looked back up at her father. "Are you serious?"
"Yes. Now if you two will excuse me, I need to see Dixon. Don't forget, seven thirty!"
Sydney, Weiss and I turned around and looked at each other, then shook our heads.
"Well, I need a drink," I said.
"Sweetie, it's nine AM."
"I'm going to need a lot to get through this day."
"So do I, Vaughn, but you're not showing up to dinner drunk."
"Yeah, you definitely don't want the Vaughnster here drunk with any kind of important figure," said Weiss, chiming in at the most inappropriate of times.
I stared at him in horror. He could not do this to me. He could not tell this story right now.
"What?" asked Sydney.
Oh no.
"Well, you see, this one time, we were supposed to have dinner with our English professor, since, well, our marks were less than exemplary. So we tried to take him out to dinner."
Oh nonononono. Please God no.
"So, to loosen up before dinner, we went out for drinks. One turned into two, two turned into three ... you get my drift. Vaughn here was a bit ... plastered."
"So were you!"
"Yes, I was, but at least I was the one who remembered about the dinner. We showed up two hours late, and when we got there and our professor wasn't there anymore, Vaughn got so upset he started to cry, ordered a margarita, and spilled it down my shirt."
"Wow," said Sydney. "Maybe you should just have some Altoid's to calm down," she said before running off in the other direction while almost dying from laughing.
"I hate you, man," I mumbled.
Weiss slapped me on the back. "It's not my fault you can't hold your alcohol!" I hoped he died spontaneously. Unfortunately, life just doesn't work that way.
***
"Vaughn, it won't be that bad," Sydney said, coming up behind me and adjusting my collar.
I didn't have any idea what to wear. I mean, dinner with Jack Bristow usually consisted of an eight-course meal, not a bacon double cheeseburger. I would look ridiculous wearing a dress shirt, but what if Jack wore a fucking tux? It would be just like him, to try and out-do me like that.
However, he would look pretty damn ridiculous. I would definitely enjoy that.
Sydney kissed my neck lightly, and then adjusted the collar on my polo shirt once again. "You look ridiculous," she giggled.
"Need I remind you you're wearing a matching shirt?"
"It's not my fault we both decided that polo shirts were the safest thing to wear to dinner."
"Somehow, somehow I think it is. It tends to be your fault pretty damn often."
She stood beside him in the mirror and raised her chin. "We're absolutely adorable."
"Take the damn polo shirt off, Sydney!"
"No!"
"Don't make me make you! I'm not going to go to dinner with Jack Bristow, wearing a polo shirt that matches his daughter's! We're too preppy. We can't live like this."
"That must be better than the world of international espionage."
"Trust me, it's not. Haven't you ever watched The O.C."
"Oh God. Weiss was right. You really are a girl."
"I'm going to rip that shirt off."
"I dare you."
Oh no. Not a dare. I hoped Syd didn't like that shirt too much ...
***
"I thought we were only going to do it once!" said Sydney, completely panicked, as she grabbed her car keys and rushed to the car.
"Sydney this was the worst idea ever. He's actually going to shoot us both in the face. We're going to be forty-five minutes late for dinner at Al's."
"Well at least we're not wearing matching shirts anymore."
"Yeah, because I destroyed yours, and you ... did other things with mine."
"Well we don't match anymore."
"Well we look like we just had sex on your bedroom floor."
"One of the side effects of having sex on my bedroom floor."
"It's my favourite side effect."
"Really? I have many others."
I shifted uncomfortably. "Shut up and drive."
***
When we arrived at the restaurant an hour late, Jack barely noticed. He looked up from his beer and newspaper and nodded us over.
He was wearing a polo shirt too.
Fantastic.
Sydney and I sat down next to each other, opposite Jack. I began perusing the drinks menu. It was never too early to start planning ahead. Who knew how horrific of a turn the evening would take? I was only half-listening when Jack and Sydney started chatting half-heartedly. "I didn't know if the two of you were going to show up or not. I thought maybe you had forgotten."
"The traffic was horrific," Sydney said, glancing at me sceptically. She did not approve of my drinking habit.
"You should have taken the expressway, it was clear."
"We did –" I began before realizing how big of an idiot I was, and started wishing I had been listening.
Sydney and Jack started at me.
"... we did plan on taking it, but I heard there was construction."
Oh, great, as though that lie couldn't be verified.
"I see," said Jack. He pursed his lips, and then began talking to Sydney again. I debated the merits of tequila. Sure, it would dull the pain in the short term, but in the long term, Jack would probably judge me and accuse Sydney of dating an alcoholic.
"So, how's your dog, Vaughn?"
What the hell was wrong with this man. "Donovan ... Donovan is doing well. He's staying at Weiss's right now."
I really had to start thinking before speaking. Donovan spent most weekends with Eric since Sydney and I had gotten back together.
"You haven't been in the field lately, though ..."
"Weiss breeds dogs."
"Oh."
Sydney just stared at me.
"So, does ... Donovan, is it? Does Donovan ... father many puppies?"
Please kill me now.
Sydney snatched the drinks menu from my hand and immediately called the waitress over, ordering something very, very soothing. I shot her an invidious look. I didn't want to be the designated driver. Now that I had exposed Sydney's lie and made up stories about Weiss breeding dogs, I was going to need as much alcohol in my system as possible.
"This is actually Donovan's first time."
Holy fuck.
"Weiss was desperate. His other bulldog died."
"Oh, I'll have to pass along my condolences."
We lapsed back into silence and then suddenly Jack looked straight at me. "I thought Weiss had a cat."
Sydney exhaled heavily and I grabbed the drinks menu from her hand. Screw it, I was going to need a lot of alcohol. Dinner had never been this painful before. Jack stared at me, I stared at Sydney, and Sydney stared at Jack.
"Well, this is awkward."
P.S. I know Weiss has a dog, but, well, it was easier to just make him have a cat.