He gaped at her. “Excuse me!” he gasped. She began to giggle. “You are most certainly not better at everything else. I believe in this relationship you’re the one that’s lacking, missy.”
I felt sorry for Vaughn that his mother kept telling Sydney embarrassing stories. It wasn't like Vaughn could retaliate and tell embarrassing stories to his mother about Syd.
I wonder how dinner will turn out...our how burnt it will be.
great story! i just caught up, cause apparently your computer hates me and won't send me pms, but o well. loved vaughn's mom, and the boxer line was hilarious. could you put me on the pm list please? thanks
Aliaschick347
hahaha oh i am so glad that syd got to meet amelie
she sounds like sooo much fun
aww vaughn is so cute
especially when he blushes so much
i agree with amelie he should definately marry her
IS it really sad that we dont have Candyland in Australia!!??
Such a cute update, totally luv Amelie and Syd sharing BabyVaughn stories!!
They r just so cute, and he was embarassed by her bra
SO adorable!!
Chapter 8
“So.... what do I do?” Sydney asked helplessly as she went into Vaughn’s kitchen.
“Oh yeah, you’re better than me,” he laughed.
She punched his shoulder. “Shut up, Vaughn.”
“Jeez, that hurt,” he groaned as he rubbed his shoulder. “Okay, just wash your hands and I’ll get us some wine.”
“To drink or cook with?” Sydney asked as she cranked on the faucet handle.
“Drink.”
“Trying to get me wasted are you?” she raised an eyebrow.
“Oh man, you foiled my plan,” he groaned sarcastically. She grinned. “Alright, I’ll pour you a glass and then go sit over there to shout out instructions.”
“Because I am your slave?” she asked.
“Exactly. You said it, not me,” he smiled. She smacked him again. “Jeez, what’d I do to you?”
“You made me cook,” she pouted.
“Hey, you lost the game,” he defended. Sydney grumbled as she went to the fridge and began to pull out ingredients.
“Umm, is it just me, or is there a lot more stuff in here than before?” she asked.
“Yeah, when I got lunch, I also got some more groceries.... and ingredients to make crêpes tomorrow.”
Sydney’s face lit up. “You’re going to make crêpes?”
He nodded. “Strawberry ones.”
“Ohh, I love you, Vaughn,” Sydney sighed.
He laughed. “You love me? Or the crêpes?”
“Well, I don’t know yet. I haven’t tasted them,” she winked. He laughed. Sydney continued to gather ingredients as they both sipped their wine. “You’re kidding me! You want to make the sauce from scratch?! You’re nuts.”
“Good lord, you complain a lot.” He laughed. “Besides, that’s the way the sauce is good.”
“No, it’s just as good from a jar. In fact, it’s better because you don’t have to do any work.” She smiled.
“Ugh, fine, I’ll just do it,” he groaned as he took the tomatoes she was holding and walked over to the cutting board. Sydney sighed, feeling awful.
“I’m sorry Vaughn, I’ll complain less.” She sighed.
“’sokay,” he shrugged.
“No, no it’s not ok. I want to help. I’ll do something and I won’t complain, I promise,” she smiled.
“Okay, you can chop onions,” he instructed. She looked hesitant. He stopped cutting and gave her a questioning glance.
“Well... it’s just... my eyes get all watery...”
Vaughn laughed. “Bristow, you are high maintenance, but I love it.”
“ME?!” she gasped indignantly.
“Yes you,” he smiled as he poked her nose with a tomato juice covered finger. “I love it. You’re so un... super-spy like.”
“Uh... thanks?” she responded with more of a question than a statement.
“You’re welcome,” he grinned. “Now cut the onions.”
~*~
“Okay.... so I might have been wrong about the jar sauce versus the homemade kind,” Sydney admitted as she piled more onto her plate.
“Uh huh.... so I assume you won’t be complaining in the future then?” he raised an eyebrow.
She blushed slightly. “No..... I’ll only complain because you can’t make me dinner every day.”
“Well, keep in mind, I don’t cook like this every day. Cooking takes time and, unfortunately, I don’t have that much extra time when I’m flying halfway around the world to rescue some crazy girl in a red wig... or blue wig, whatever the case may be,” he sighed.
“Excuse me!” she gasped. “When have you ever had to do that?!” He gave her a look. She gave him one right back; a harsher one.
“Okay, okay we’ve both done our fair share of saving.”
“Exactly,” she smiled.
For the rest of dinner, they had less hostile conversation, and then they did the dishes together while flicking soap suds at one another. After they cleaned up the soap mess they had made, Sydney insisted on doing more of Vaughn’s laundry, much to his protest. However, she insisted that since she was imposing on his hospitality, it was the least she could do.
“Syd, you’re not imposing,” he assured her. “I brought you here, remember?”
“Well yeah, but not for the whole weekend,” she sighed.
He walked up behind her and locked his arms around her waist. “If it was up to me, you’d never leave,” he whispered. She smiled. “Besides, I love this... us being just us... Sydney and Michael,” he sighed as he nipped at the back of her neck.
She giggled, “Vaughn!”
“See, you need to start calling me Michael,” he told her. She shook her head defiantly. “Why not?”
“Because you’re Vaughn,” she smiled.
He shook his head and laughed. “Fine. When you’re done there you can come and sit on the couch and I’ll give you a back rub.”
“But I lost the bet.”
“I know,” he smiled.
Sydney finished the laundry quickly and then practically skipped to the couch, eager to collect her back rub. “Where do you want me to sit?” she asked him.
“Lay on your stomach here,” he instructed as he pointed to the couch. She did as she was told and then he sat down beside her and began kneading her spine.
“Good god...,” she moaned with relaxation. “This should be your job forever.”
He chuckled. “Personal masseuse to Sydney Bristow?”
“Yes... I’d pay you.”
“Excellent.” He laughed. After about ten minutes, she fell asleep and Vaughn stopped massaging. He sat down on the floor next to the couch and simply watched her. Even though it had been over twenty-four hours, he still couldn’t believe she was actually there, asleep on his couch.
A while later, she awoke and breathed in deep as she pushed herself up with her hands and looked around sleepily. “Hey,” Vaughn sighed.
“How long was I asleep?” she asked with a yawn.
“Only about fifteen minutes,” he told her with a smile.
“Oh,” she laughed softly. Then, she sat up and made room for him on the couch. “Come up here please,” she requested. Vaughn slid off the floor and up onto the couch, where Sydney promptly crawled into his lap. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her head. “Thanks for my back rub. It was the best one I ever had.”
He laughed softly. “You’re welcome.”
“Hey Vaughn, is Miracle your favorite movie?” she asked a moment later.
“Wow, that was random.”
“Well... I was just thinking about movies... and I was wondering which one was your favorite.” She shrugged.
“Well... it's one of my favorites... I guess I don’t have a favorite favorite... what about you?” he asked.
“Breakfast at Tiffany’s,” she told him.
“Really? Sappy romantic comedies? I can’t see it.” He smiled.
She raised an eyebrow at him. “What did you think my favorite movie would be?”
“Ummm, I dunno... something with killing?” he suggested.
“Vaughn, how many women do you know who enjoy killing movies?” she asked him.
“Not many,” he laughed.
“Exactly. Besides, I like the escape of romantic comedies. They don’t have any bad guys.” She sighed. He nodded in agreement. She definitely had a point. They had enough bad guys in real life to deal with. Who needs them created on the fictional screen?!
They had been sitting on the couch, absentmindedly paying attention to the TV for about twenty minutes before they turned their attention on each other’s lips. Soon Sydney was laying full out on the sofa once more with Vaughn half-on-top of her, half-beside her as they kissed. Almost out of nowhere, she started to giggle wildly. “What are you doing?” Vaughn asked, almost annoyed.
“You’re tickling me!” she whined helplessly. Vaughn looked down at noticed that his fingers were resting against the skin on her stomach and a wicked grin crossed his face. “Vaughn don’t!” Sydney warned, but it was too late, he was already tickling her mercilessly. “No no! Stop!! Stop!!” she squealed.
“Jeez Bristow, how do your survive torture if you’re this ticklish? All they’d have to do is get out a feather,” he taunted.
“I’m usually not ticklish,” she insisted. He looked unconvinced. “It’s true!”
“So it’s just me then? I’m the only one who can tickle you?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Apparently.”
“Excellent. I love power,” he grinned. She rolled her eyes.