Part Seven: Tell Me Lies

Tell me lies
Tell me sweet little lies
(Tell me lies)
(Tell me tell me lies)
Oh no no
You can't disguise
(You can't disguise)
(No you can't disguise)
Tell me lies
Tell me sweet little lies

Tiny bottles lay strewn across the floor of the jet, and some more rested on the seats. Every so often, another would careen away from the table and the two intoxicated agents sitting there.

"God, I haven't been drunk since," Syd rolled her eyes and looked up, swaying a little in her seat.

"That long, huh?" Vaughn slurred after a few minutes.

"Last week!" She finished triumphantly.

"Last week." He repeated after her.

"Ye-ah. Weiss invited me over to watch some movie he rented, but the DVD was scratched, so we ended up playing the Trivial Pursuit drinking game." Syd waved her hands in the air, though it seemed to have little relevance to what she said. Vaughn nodded almost as pointlessly.

"Trivial Pursuit drinking game. How do you play that?"

"Weeelllll, you play it just like regular Trivial Pursuit, except when you get a question wrong, you take a shot. And if you get it right, everyone else, ya know, everyone else being Weiss, has to take a shot." Syd finished her explanation by finishing her most recent tequila bottle. She rifled through the assortment on the table, tossed a few empties over her shoulder, and picked out another little bottle with the golden fluid.

"Let me guess how it ends - either someone wins the game, or you're too drunk to read the cards." Vaughn finished his own bottle, whiskey this time, and merely let it fall to floor.

"How did you know?" Syd gasped, and then lowered her voice. "You've played it too." Vaughn laughed and shook his head.

"Naw, that's just how all his drinking games end - until you win, or you're too drunk to play. But isn't that most drinking games?" Syd nodded a little, and then squeezed her eyes closed to fight off sudden dizziness.

"Um, yeah. But yeah, I'd say so - but that's all the Weiss drinking games I've played." She opened her eyes back up, and stared at a far section of the plane to refocus.

"So you spend a lot of time over there?" Vaughn asked nonchalantly while popping open a mini-vodka. Syd focused on him, and grinned.

"Oooh yeah. Weiss has been so nice since I've been back. He's just the cure for loneliness." She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, and tried to smirk, but only ended up looking goofy. At the same time, Vaughn went very silent, and very serious. He set his vodka down, and stared at Sydney. It took her a few moments, but Vaughn's change began to penetrate her alcohol-fogged mind. She matched his solemn look with one of her own.

"Vaughn, I…"

"Weiss, he…."

"No, Vaughn, I meant…" Only a split second later she caught the gleam in his eye.

"That slt!" Syd's mouth dropped open, and nothing emerged.

"He's been coming over and seeing me, and never once told me about you!" Vaughn affected fake rejection, complete with phony sniffle. "He told me I was the only one."

Again it took a little time to process, but the result was inevitable: Syd collapsed in helpless giggles, wrapping her arms around herself and holding her sides. Vaughn soon joined her.

After a few minutes, Syd managed to regain control of herself, and wiped a few lighthearted tears from her eyes. She sighed contentedly, and leaned back in her seat.

"That's almost as funny as the time Sloane ordered Sark to wear one of my mission dresses around SD-6." This time, Vaughn's jaw dropped.

"What?" Syd leaned forward suddenly, and pointed at him.

"Got you!" And the laughter began again.

For a second time, Syd dried her eyes, and leaned back.

"I haven't had this much fun since," she paused, slight melancholy shadowing her eyes. "Since the last time I spent a night with Will and Francie. Real Francie." She breathed in deeply, inhaling the memories.

"How's Will?" Vaughn asked, all traces of humor gone. Syd exhaled quickly, and stared at Vaughn for a moment. He hadn't been too happy to hear she'd slept with Will, which at the time Sydney found absurd; both for the fact that he was married to someone else, and they were supposed to be running for their lives, not having petty spats.

"He's good. He's a construction worker, of all things. He was going to ask out a painter when I last saw him." Vaughn nodded, not at all disturbed by talking about the man who'd touched Sydney after he'd had her.

Since North Korea, Vaughn regretted snarking at Syd about Will. She was a grown woman with her own life, and he no longer had any right to her. He thought that Will probably deserved her far more than he did.

"You know, Will was upset when he found out about us." He told Syd quietly.

"Yeah, I know," she replied just as quietly, hanging her head. She remembered seeing the disappointment on Will's face, and feeling the pain at hurting him warring with the joy she had found.

"Yeah, I think he was hoping I'd ask him out." Syd raised her head to see that gleam again. She shoved her hand into Vaughn's shoulder.

"Vaughn!"

A fraction of a second later, the jet shook. The pilot's voice came over the intercom.

"Just a bump in the road, folks." Vaughn looked out the window in a futile attempt to see something, then glanced over at Sydney.

"Syd, are you okay?" She was clutching the armrests of her seat, and squeezing her eyes shut again.

"I've never done drunk and flying before."

"Never?" Vaughn asked, incredulous. He'd done drunk and flying plenty of times. Especially after Sydney's disappearance.

"Never." Vaughn left his seat and came around the table to grasp Syd's arm.

"C'mon." Without question, Syd got up and followed Vaughn to the back of the jet, gripping his hand the whole way. He opened up the small bathroom, and pushed her inside. "Stay right there, I'm gonna get you something."

"Why couldn't you have brought it to the seat?"

"Just in case." With that, he left her there.

She sat down on the toilet, held her head in her hands, and listened to him rummaging in the galley. She heard the sound of liquid pouring, and something fizzing. He returned with a clear plastic cup of something effervescent.

"What is that?" He handed her the cup.

"My own personal drunk-on-an-airplane remedy: tonic and Alka-Seltzer." She looked into the cup doubtfully.

"Isn't that redundant? I mean, fizz. And more fizz."

"It works, trust me on that. Used it many times. Oh, and take these too." He handed her some pills. She recognized them as Dramamine and Tylenol. Without any more questions, she tossed the pills into her mouth, and chased them with Vaughn's remedy.

He watched her for a minute while she waited for the concoction to work. Going back to the galley, he grabbed a handtowel, and wet it with cold water. He brought it back to the bathroom, squatted down, and began blotting Sydney's forehead with it. She leaned back, and snaked an arm around him, bringing him closer to her. He continued his ministrations while reaching for her free hand with his.

They stayed there for not quite a quarter hour, in the same position. Vaughn kept rubbing Syd's forehead until the towel lost its soothing coolness.

"How are you feeling now?" He searched her face for any sign of distress. She gazed at him, and graced him with a small smile.

"Better. I guess your cockamamie remedy worked." Vaughn stood up and tossed the towel into the small sink.

"Hey, but it did work, didn't it?" He held a hand out to Syd, which she gratefully used to pull herself up.

"Yeah, but…" Her next words became lost as the plane rocked again. Syd stumbled into Vaughn, which propelled both of them out of the bathroom and up against some adjacent storage lockers.

"Sorry about that. I'll try not to do it again." The pilot's voice held a hint of humor, and Syd wondered if he enjoyed flying through turbulence.

Vaughn had caught Syd in his arms, and the turbulence caused her to grasp his shoulders tightly. As she sent evil glares towards the cockpit door, he looked her over with concern, and no small amount of affection.

"You okay?" She seemed surprised that he was holding her, and caught his eyes with hers. She began to feel the familiar heat rise in her body as she stared into his verdant gaze.

"Yeah." Without thought, she grabbed the sides of his head, and brought his lips to hers.

Surprise held Vaughn now, but only for a few seconds. He squeezed Sydney tighter to his body, and kissed her back with all the passion he could muster. It was only momentary, however, as passion demanded more from both of them.

He maneuvered them into the galley, still kissing Syd. He positioned her in front of a vacant counter, then picked her up and placed her atop it. Immediately, two pairs of hands grabbed for clothing fasteners, while two pairs of lips continued to kiss. In very short time, Vaughn's jacket, shirt, tie, and undershirt all lay on the floor. Sydney's jacket and blouse were pulled open, revealing a skin-tone-colored bra.

They simply stared at each other for a long moment, both of them assured, in their drunken brazenness, of the moments to come. Then they kissed again, and greedy hands went to seek out flesh.

Vaughn tore his lips from Syd's to kiss down her jaw, down her neck, down to her exposed chest, and moved his hands to expose more. Meanwhile, Syd kissed any available inch of skin she could, until he had ducked down too far for her to kiss anything. Then she just clutched his shoulders, and leaned back to enjoy his attentions.

Which were getting more involved, as he removed his hands from her chest, and began to run them up her nylon-covered legs. He felt so thankful that she wore a skirt today. Her office clothes rarely included skirts, which for some reason, caused him to think those dark, conservative pieces of clothing more seductive than her skimpy mission dresses.

He pushed this particular dark, conservative, knee-length skirt up to nearly her hips. As he explored farther with his hands, it delighted, but not surprised him to find that she wore not pantyhose, but stockings. His memory reminded him that she found pantyhose too restrictive.

He continued to rain kisses upon her bare upper body, as his hands sought out, and found her panties. He tugged them down over the garters, and was forced to move back to free the piece of beige cotton from her legs. The panties then dropped to the floor, along with her shoes.

He rose up to gaze at her, and see the lust burning bright in her eyes. Her hand shot out to grab his belt, pulling him back towards her before her other hand joined the first in undoing the buckle. The deft handling of the button of his pants, and quickness with which she divested him of them and his boxers, belied the fact that she was rip-roaring drunk.

His hands seemed unaffected by alcohol as well, when he sent one to slide between her thighs and find her pleasure there. Her breath hissed out between her teeth as he did indeed discover her pleasure, and she retaliated by reaching down and finding his, firm and ready for her.

They tormented each other in such a manner for several minutes, until neither of their intoxicated minds could withstand the continuing tease. Vaughn moved his hand from Sydney to himself, as she took her hand to his shoulder, scooted forward, and opened herself to him.

This is why I like being drunk with Sydney, was Vaughn's last coherent thought before he lost himself in her once again.

Intoxicated sex is a completely different animal than sober sex, no matter the breed. It is a frenzied beast, full of hunger and little else. However, such a beast can be tamed somewhat by love.

And so it was for the two agents joined together thousands of feet above the earth. Though intoxicated, they were still cognizant that they conducted their coupling with love; the fount of all that is good in their lives.

Their erotic dance was undeniably frenzied, with quick thrusts, and quicker breaths. But their eyes were locked onto each other, conveying every emotion past the alcoholic haze. They continued to look into each other as release shook both of them at the same time, and they moaned their sentiments to one another.

After the last wave of ecstasy rippled across his body, Vaughn wrapped his arms around Sydney, and lay his head on her shoulder. She sighed heavily, and mirrored his action. After a beautiful moment of afterglow, she spoke.

"Let's dump Weiss. I like you better anyway." Vaughn chuckled into her shoulder.

"Ditto. He doesn't deserve us anyway, the hussy."

A few more minutes of embracing and giggles later, the pair was finally ready to separate. Vaughn helped Syd down from the counter, and brought her panties up from the floor the same time he brought his pants. She accepted them gracefully, and gave him several coy little glances as they dressed for the second time that day.

She, of course, finished before he did. She leaned back against the counter and watched him tuck in his shirt, then start to redo his tie. She felt a yawn coming on, but unsuccessfully attempted to suppress it.

"I'm really tired." Vaughn tightened his tie and reached for his jacket.

"Oh yeah? Well, I know a few of the seats fold into beds, or something resembling them." Syd gave him an arch look.

"Really? Why didn't we use one of those then?" Vaughn grinned at her, and leaned over her, placing his hands on each side of her. He bent his head to her ear.

"Because we've never done it in the galley before." She giggled, and he turned to capture her lips in a short kiss. "Let's go get some rest." He stood up straight, took her hand, and led her to the main cabin.

There, they unfolded the seats that would make cots suitable for sleeping, and found pillows and blankets in an overhead compartment. They each settled down into one of the seat-beds, and the last thing either of them heard before drifting off was "We are now approaching New York. This is just to refuel, you may not disembark to browse the gift shop."