Title: The Queen and King
Summary: A late night conversation between Syd and Vaughn after a fight.
Ship: S/V, as always
A/N: Okay, so first off, there is no season three or the telling. Okay, does everybody got that? Good. This is what would have happened if the telling didn't happen, in my mind. I have problems accepting that Syd was missing for two years and that Vaughn married the cow. But that's another topic in itself. Anyway, this came to me late at night, like so many things do, and I liked it so much that I thought I'd share it with the world.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I don't own Syd and Vaughn, sadly. But I am in ownership of the phone and the couch and the corporate monkey.
"Come on, Syd, answer the phone." Vaughn mumbled into the receiver, listening to the phone ring repeatedly. He reached down to pick up a pen from the coffee table in front of him, and started passing the pen between his fingers. Not as easy as a coin but it would have to do.
Sydney stared at the ringing phone on the bed in front of her. She wanted to answer the phone but she was so mad at him that she wanted to beat him with the phone more. After another moment of contemplating whether she should answer the phone or not, Sydney sighed and reached for the phone. She clicked the 'on' button and waited for him to speak first.
When he heard her end of the line actually pick up, Vaughn dropped the pen and sat up straighter on the couch. "Sydney?" She didn't say anything, but he knew that she was there. "I'm sorry."
"You'd better be," She answered simply. Her tone was sharp and pointed, meant to hurt him or make him angry.
The latter happened, "Syd, come on, don't be like that." He sighed, frustrated.
"Like what?"
"I don't know." He started, "Like you." The instant he said it, he realized that it was a mistake.
"Oh, like me, huh? Now I can't be my own person? Whatever happened to the fair, honest, and equal thing?" She was about to hang up on him when he spoke.
"Syd, wait. I'm sorry, I didn't mean that."
Sydney considered the apology for a moment, "Okay. What did you mean?"
What did I get myself into? "I don't know." He lied.
She saw right through it, "Liar."
Damnit. "Yeah, okay."
"Tell me what you meant," She demanded.
"I just meant that...sometimes...you tend to overreact about things."
"How?"
"Geez, Syd, what do you want from me?"
"I want you to admit that you were wrong." She answered simply.
"I did already," He countered.
"No, you said you were sorry. You never said you were wrong."
"What's the difference?"
"A lot."
"I was wrong," He said, quickly.
"You don't mean it." She replied.
"How do you do that?"
"Do what?"
"That thing that you do...you always seem to know when I'm lying."
"Maybe you just suck at lying," She suggested.
"I doubt it."
"Are you calling me a liar now?"
"Yes," He answered simply.
"Jerk," She said.
"You started it." He replied, calmly.
"Maybe, doesn't mean you had to continue it."
"Maybe, doesn't mean you had to get mad about it."
"Maybe," She answered. "You still haven't said that you were wrong."
He shook his head at her not very subtle change of topic. "I know."
"Then say it, and mean it."
"I can't."
"Why?"
"Because I'm not wrong." There said it. Now she's gonna kill me.
"Yes, you are."
"No, I'm not."
"Well, I'm not wrong."
"I never said you were."
"Both of us can't be right," She argued.
"Why not?" He asked.
"Because..." She was stumped but she wasn't about to let him now that. "Because we just can't. That's not how things work."
"Why?"
"How the hell should I know?"
"Because it's your theory," He answered.
"So?"
"So, that means you have to know why we both can't be right."
"I don't have to explain my theories to you." She said, stubbornly.
"Maybe, but you feel stupid whether you do or not."
"How do you do that?"
"Do what?"
"Know exactly what I'm feeling even though I don't say anything."
"You can't hide what you feel from me. You never could." He stated.
"Doesn't mean I have to like it."
"Doesn't mean I have to like it when you know I'm lying." He replied.
"Are you sorry?"
"About what?" He asked, trying to make a joke.
"Vaughn..." She warned.
Not the time for jokes. Check. "Yes, I am."
"Do you think that you may be just a little itsy bitsy bit wrong?"
"No." He replied firmly. "Do you?"
"No, because I'm not."
"Stop doing that." He commanded softly.
"Doing what?"
"Being so damn stubborn."
"Make me." She challenged.
"Okay." He agreed, simultaneously.
"Really?"
"Of course."
"Weirdo."
"That was mature," He pointed out, a hint of laughter in his voice.
"Shut up," She commanded, the same note of laughter in her own voice.
"You're just the Queen of Maturity today, aren't you?" He deadpanned.
"Shut up." She repeated, a wide smile spreading on her lips.
"Yes, your majesty," He replied, teasingly.
She wanted to laugh. And she almost did, until she remembered that she was mad at him. "Stop doing that."
"Doing what?"
"Making me laugh when I'm mad at you."
"But that's my best quality," He answered.
"Seriously, Vaughn, I'm trying to have an ADULT conversation here, is that alright with you?"
"How come you never call me Michael?" He asked, changing the subject.
"Didn't you already ask me that?"
"Yeah and you didn't answer my question."
"And you never said that you were wrong." She pointed out.
"Because I'm not."
"Yes, you are, Vaughn." She added the 'Vaughn' just to spite him.
It worked. He was spited. "Michael."
"Vaughn," She replied.
"How about Christopher?"
"Christopher?" She questioned.
"It's my middle name," He told her.
"So?"
"If we can't agree on whether you call me by my first name or my surname, why not my middle name?"
"Cause that's stupid," She replied.
"Is it, your majesty?" He questioned, reminding her that she wasn't being very mature at the moment.
"Yes it is, your highness."
"Your highness?"
"If I'm the Queen of Immaturity, you're the King of Stupidity."
"You fit your title well."
"So do you." She paused before adding, "And it's still stupid."
"Why's that, Anne?" Unlike her, he knew what her middle name was without having to ask.
"Cause it is, Christopher."
"Ha! You did it!" He half-yelled, joyfully. "You called me Christopher!"
She rolled her eyes at him, "You called me Anne!"
"Yes, but I was trying to prove a point."
"Which was?"
"I don't have to explain my point to you." He replied, instead of answering her question.
"Why?"
"Are you going to explain why we both can't be right?"
"No," She admitted.
"Then I'm afraid that I am not able to explain my point to you. You give some, you lose some."
"Where did that come from?"
"Learned it while I was in the scouts." He said.
"The scouts?"
"The Boy Scouts."
"Oh, right because you're a Boy Scout."
"Not anymore," He defended.
"That's what you think. Don't think I haven't seen your uniform in the back of your closet."
"You've been in my closest?" He asked.
"I needed something to do while you were in the shower," She replied, innocently.
"You could have joined me," He suggested.
"That's not fun. Digging in the back of you closer, however, is."
"So I'm no longer fun?"
"Damn straight."
"That was cold, your majesty."
"I know, your highness."
"There's no Boy Scout uniform in my closet," He stated, suddenly remembering that little fact.
"I know but I had you thinking there was."
"Yes, but I am the King of Stupidity, it is my job and duty to do stupid things."
"Like what you did earlier?" She asked, bringing the topic back to their original subject.
"I knew you were going to say that."
"No, you didn't."
"Yes, I did." He stated. "Did I mention that I was sorry?"
"Many times but you have yet to say that you were wrong."
"Rebel Mule."
"Corporate Monkey."
"Thanks for that." He said, sarcastically.
"Anytime, Corporate Monkey."
"Right back at ya, Rebel Mule."
Silence. Neither dared to speak. Neither wanted to speak. It wasn't needed.
Sydney let out a small sigh and climbed out her bed and crossed to her door, which was most of the way closed. She opened the door a hair more and peered out into the silent hallway. "Are you really, truly, deeply sorry?" She whispered.
"Yes," He answered, immediately, sinking lower into the couch his was now lying down on.
Sydney smiled and lowered the phone from her ear, setting it down on the dresser next to her door before slipping out into the darkened hallway. Soundlessly she made her way down the hall and to her living room where she had to bit her lip to keep from laughing seeing Vaughn sprawled out on her couch with his cell phone pressed firmly to his ear, obviously waiting for her to speak.
"Syd?" He questioned into the phone.
"Yeah?" She answered, walking over to the couch and standing behind it.
He smiled and lowered his phone from his ear, gazing up at her, "Am I forgiven?"
"For now," She replied, climbing over the back of the couch and covering his body with hers. His right hand reached for her left, lacing their fingers together. "But you're still wrong." She said, softly, resting her head on his chest.
"No, I'm not, Queen Anne of Immaturity."
"Yes, are you, King Christopher of Stupidity."
"Nope."
"Yep."
"We could do this forever, and that would be very immature and stupid of us."
"But that's our royal duty, being the queen and king of such things." She answered.
"Isn't it king and queen?" He pointed out.
"Nope, it's definitely queen and king."
"I've always heard it the other way around."
"Then you've heard wrong." She answered, simply.
"I suppose I have." He agreed, reaching his free hand towards the coffee table and his abandoned suit jacket and pulling something out of it. "Can I ask you a question now?"
"I suppose."
"Sydney Anne Bristow, Queen of Immaturity, also known as the Rebel Mule," She smiled at the lengthy name he called her. "Will you do me the honor of becoming my Queen of Stupidity and Mrs. Corporate Monkey?"
Sydney picked up her head and smiled widely, spotting the diamond engagement ring held in his free hand. Her eyes traced along his hand to his arm to his neck up his face and to his beautiful green eyes. "Michael Christopher Vaughn, King of Stupidity, also known as the Corporate Monkey," It was his turn to smile. "I would be delighted if you would be my King of Immaturity and Mr. Rebel Mule."
Vaughn leaned forward to kiss her and she met him half way. As they kissed, he untwined their fingers and slipped the ring onto her ring finger. When the need for oxygen become overbearing, they pulled back and gazed into each other's eyes.
"I love you, your highness."
"I love you, your majesty."
Sydney smiled and sighed happily, lowering her head to its previous comfortable position on his chest. He responded by wrapping his arms around her, holding her closer to him.
"You're still wrong," They both mumbled at the same time, causing the other to laugh.
Tomorrow, they knew that there would be loads to do. They would have to call relatives, break the news to their coworkers at the CIA, begin planning their wedding, answer hundreds of questions about when they actually started dating. But for now, they were just content to lie in each other's arms.
The future Queen and King of Immaturity and Stupidity.
Yay? Nay? Fantastic? Crap? More? Review please!