Title: Icing Sugar and Egg Nog Notes: This follows in the same general alternate S3 timeline as "57 N, 122W", and continues a couple of days after that fic. Feel free to read "57N 122W" first, but it's not absolutely necessary. Any mistakes are my own. This was written over a couple of days, just a little something for the holidays. I hope you enjoy it. |
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It should have been easy. The mission was a quick one, the artifact was intact, and there was no sign that the Covenant was aware of the artifact's location. Writing the report should have been the quickest thing in the world to do, but for some reason Weiss found himself wandering over to Marshall's workstation to verify the contents of the Rambaldi box, review the design schematics, double-check their retreat route on his topographic maps...He even spell-checked the document three times before finally printing it out and handing it to Dixon. He'd promised Sydney he'd hand over a hard copy of the report to her before the end of the day, but it had been a light work day for her and she'd left early. Now it was dark outside, and it wasn't until had driven halfway to her apartment that he realized why he'd taken so long with the report. There was only one reason, really. Sydney. Their mission together was the most memorable time he'd ever had on the job. Sure, there had been some sub-zero temperatures and minor bullet wounds to contend with, but he'd forgotten about those a long time ago. All he could think about was Sydney - the way she'd held herself in and gotten their cabin ready and his wound bandaged, until she gave in and cried. She let him hold her when she cried. And then she curled up next to him and listened to him talk - about anything he could think to tell her about that would make life seem just a little less gloomy. So every minute he spent writing up the report was another minute he could relive it all. He knew that the second he turned it in and closed the file on it for good, their lives would continue as normal, and Sydney would put herself back in her world where she didn't need anyone, and he wouldn't feel needed in the same way any more. Weiss wasn't kidding himself, either. He knew full well how unsteady the ground still was between her and Vaughn, and he didn't want to step into the middle of it for all the tea in China. He didn't want to be that person - the more-than-a-friend-friend, the rebound, or even the go-between. That act had gotten very tiresome very quickly. Really, Weiss wasn't sure exactly what he was to Sydney, or if he wanted to be anything more than whatever that was. But he knew that she'd been through a lot, more than most people experienced in a lifetime. He missed seeing her smile. And if he could bring it back every so often - even in a snowed-in cabin in the middle of a Rambaldi hunt in the Rockies - then he wanted to take every chance he could to do that. Or maybe I just need a friend as much as she does, he mused to himself. Heaven knew how little he'd seen of his basketball buddy Mike these days. And so here he was, on Sydney Bristow's doorstep, briefcase in one hand and jacket slung over his arm, ready to offer what he could. He raised his hand to knock, and paused again. As he turned his head a little he sniffed the air around him, wondering if the scent he detected was coming from Sydney's place, or somewhere down the hall. It was the scent of Things Baking, particularly buttery, sugary things, and given that they were only three days away from Christmas, he started to envision all the possible things that could belong to that smell... Finally, Weiss knocked, and after a moment he heard a muffled "Come in!" from inside. When he entered the apartment, the source of the baking smells was made clear to him. He was greeted by the sight of Sydney Bristow, hair pulled back, apron dusted with flour, negotiating two trays of sugar cookies. From the looks of things, one was on its way to the cooling rack and the other was on its way into the oven. "Looks like I picked a good time to stop by," he said, closing the door behind him. Sydney set down the cooling tray just before sliding the new tray into the oven. "Eric! I didn't know you were stopping by," she said, offering him a broad smile and dusting off her hands. She walked towards him, brushing away a strand of hair from her face. He was glad to see her in good spirits, and smiled back. "Well, Agent Bristow, I had to make sure you received your copy of the final report," he said, pulling out a file from his briefcase. "Here you are." Her eyes closed for a moment in recognition. "Of course, I completely forgot about that. Thank you," she said, looking back at him and accepting the file. "I'm sure it's fine," she added. Still, she opened the file and flipped through a few pages, nodding as she read. Weiss, in the meantime, let his gaze drift over her shoulder and into the kitchen, taking in the sight of the preparations he had interrupted. He set down his coat and briefcase, and moved a few paces past Sydney. "So, this looks like a pretty good operation over here," he commented. "I don't suppose I could trade you a report for a few cookies, now could I?" he joked, turning back to her. "Just one or two for the road..." Sydney looked up from the report and back over at the cookies and smiled again. "I think that could be arranged," she said. "Come on, you can help me with the decorating," she added with a wink. She led him all the way into the kitchen. Weiss started to roll up his sleeves, protesting a little that decorating really wasn't his forte. Nevertheless, Sydney handed him an icing piping bag with a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Eric, you're a trained CIA Agent, I'm sure you can handle putting icing on a few stars and trees," she explained. "Just icing?" he asked, accepting the piping bag. "Because, as a trained Agent, I feel it is my duty to observe that you have also set out coloured sprinkles and cinnamon hearts." She nodded sagely. "You're right, Eric, I should have told you the full story up front. This is in fact a two-tier operation. First we put the icing on, then the sprinkles and cinnamon hearts come next." "Aha," he answered, nodding. "Well, I suppose there's no time to waste then, is there?" "No, I don't think there is," she said, smiling back. She set out two bowls of icing - one green, one yellow - and proceeded to demonstrate how to fill the piping bag with icing and hold it to ice the cookies. By the time she'd finished her second Christmas tree in explanation, the timer on the oven sounded, and she straightened quickly and turned the operation over to him. Her hands brushed his, and he could feel their residual warmth where they had gripped the piping bag before. He smiled, feeling suddenly comforted by her ease and determination. He'd already forgotten why he came over. Just then he decided he was going to produce the best iced sugar cookies he possibly could. After all, Sydney Bristow gave high standards to live up to. For a short while they worked away like this near each other in the small kitchen. Sydney rolled and cut the next batches of cookies, and Weiss concentrated on the tasks given to him. He was starting to get the hang of it after the fourth one, and decided to try conversation again. "So, are you going to the office party tomorrow?" he asked, straightening after finishing his fifth. He reached over for the bowl of cinnamon hearts and expertly began to place a few on each tree. Sydney looked over at him briefly from her cutting. "I was thinking about it," she answered. "Just thinking about it?" he asked, looking back at her from his cinnamon hearts. "You weren't sure? Come on, it'll be fun," he prodded encouragingly. She paused for a moment, leaning her hands at the edge of the counter. "Actually, I've never been to a holiday party at the CIA before," she mused. "Only at SD-6. The takedown happened not long after the holidays that year, and then after that...Well, after that I wasn't here." She shrugged, and returned to her work. Weiss nodded, exhaling a brief sigh. He picked up the icing again, and positioned himself to decorate another row of trees. "Ah, so it'll be a new experience," he said, perhaps a little too lightly. "No big deal. Besides, I hear Marshall has this whole decorating scheme planned for the Rotunda, you can't miss out on that. He was saying something today about this giant snowman he's going to hang from the ceiling, and..." "Eric," Sydney interrupted him. He glanced up and saw her looking back over at him with a wry expression. He gave in. "Well, okay, so there may not actually be a giant snowman," he admitted. "But there will be food, and music, and plenty of people," he emphasized. After a brief pause, he decided he may as well be completely honest. "Even if Mike and Lauren are going to be there, I'm sure no one expects..." "It's fine that they'll be there, really," she interrupted again. "Honestly, I don't mind that they'll be there, even if things still are a little awkward between me and them..." she added, and then glanced more pointedly at Weiss's hands. "Eric, your icing..." Weiss looked down and saw his stream of icing had begun to pool in between two cookies on the tray. He'd completely missed his mark, and hadn't been paying attention. He set down the piping back and reached for some paper towels, mopping up the small accident. When he looked up again he saw Sydney calmly placing more freshly cut cookies in rows on a tray. The look on her face told him her mind, too, was elsewhere. "Okay, I'll bite," he said. "If it's not them, then...why not go?" He went back to his task, finishing another row of Christmas trees and moving on to the next. And I'll be there, he felt like adding, but didn't. He heard her sigh a little. "I don't know," she admitted. "I'm just not feeling very...festive this year. I suppose I thought I'd start with baking cookies and see how far that got me." Weiss nodded to himself. "Hey, I understand. I usually pick up a little bit of that, myself," he told her. "And what do you usually do to make it go away?" she asked, honesty and curiosity in her voice. "Ah, well," he said, setting down the icing to reveal a now-full tray of decorated cookies. "First, never underestimate the power of baked goods," he said, gesturing. He saw an appreciative smile flicker across her face, and felt a small pang of relief hit him at the sight of it. Her cheeks were starting to look a little more rosy, too. "And second?" she asked, setting down her cookie cutter and turning to face him. He dusted off his hands a little more, gearing up for his second point. "Well second, in my case, involves choosing to wear one of a variety of seasonal ties purchased for me by my two nieces over several years of gift-giving," he explained. Her eyebrows lifted slightly. "Really?" she asked, intrigued. "What sort of ties are we talking about here?" "Oh, let's see," he said, letting his gaze drift upwards for a moment as he thought. "Well, the classic one involves a gentle cascade of snowflakes," he described, gesturing with the plain navy tie he was wearing then. "Uniquely, every second snowflake blinks in the centre with a different colour." "I see," Sydney said, clearly resisting the urge to laugh. "Go on." "Ah yes, there's another one which has been the choice of two parties so far - a bright red bowtie, actually, which depicts on one side a reindeer, and on the other side a sleigh filled with presents." "No blinking lights on this one?" she asked, clearly enjoying this discussion. Her smile was becoming more obvious. "Oh, it used to blink," he explained. "But the batteries ran out last year and I haven't figured out how to replace them yet," he said. A chuckle began to escape Sydney at this explanation, but she stopped and cleared her throat. "Well, that's very well for you, but I'm afraid there are no ties in my wardrobe," she said regretfully. Weiss nodded. "That is a shame. We'll have to find something else, instead." He looked down at his tray of cookies, which were finished and starting to set now, and gestured towards them. "But a few dozen cookies ought to be a good start," he agreed. "And it looks like we're going to need more icing," he said, just before the oven timer sounded again. Sydney slipped on her oven mitts again, and nodded towards a cupboard behind Weiss, next to the oven. "The icing sugar's up there," she said. "Give me one second and I'll show you how to make more." He turned and opened the cupboard doors, his eyes eventually lighting on a half-full transparent canister. Opening the lid, he gave a tentative sniff, and a cloud of powdery sweetness met his nose. "Got it," he said, hastily placing the lid back on. "But you know, I'm a pretty quick study, I might be able to figure out..." Weiss was interrupted when he closed the cupboard door and turned right into Sydney, knocking her tray of cookies and his canister of sugar to the ground. "Oh, no," he muttered, as a white cloud of sugar rose from the floor, and the now empty tray clattered to a standstill. "I'm so sorry, Syd," he offered, immediately stooping to kneel on the floor and try to collect the damage. Sydney just stood startled for a moment, and he looked up at her, wondering if this had been a more serious infraction than he thought. But then her lips curved back into the smile he'd seen before, and the chuckle returned. "It's okay, really, there's more where that came from," she said. She bent to help him, kneeling and gathering the broken cookie pieces. Weiss had pushed his hands around in a makeshift dustpan, trying to gather the sugar back into one spot. "Oh, Eric, I'm sorry, now I've ruined your shirt," she said, reaching an already-dusty hand out to brush at the front of his blue Oxford. Weiss looked down at where she was pointing and saw the sugar had managed to spill down his shirt and onto his tie, before finally hitting the floor. "Nah," he responded, "That's all right. My dry cleaner loves a challenge. But I was going to say the same thing about your cookies, though." She nodded a little, and brushed again at the spot before returning to her task. "That's fine, there really is a lot more dough. We can make more." "Oh, it's 'we', now, is it?" he responded jokingly. "Yep," she answered, "You're the cookie-decorator now, it's official." "Do I get a job description with that, or is it more of an honourary title?" he asked. She laughed again. "More of an honourary title, for now," she admitted. Weiss realized by now that his job would only be completed if he had the right tools, so he sat up and opened one of the sink cupboards in search of her dustpan and broom. He didn't keep his eyes on Sydney, and so when he returned to lean forward and reach for a stray spot of sugar, he ended up bumping heads with her just as she was leaning back with her handful of broken cookies. She let out a startled shout, and dropped the cookies again, and Weiss immediately felt not only guilty but close to useless by now. Anything else you can ruin while you're here, Eric? he thought to himself. "Ah, great, now all I have to do is burn down your kitchen and I'll have completely ruined your night," he said in embarrassment, setting down the dustpan. He reached for Sydney, and lifted her hand away from where she was holding her forehead. His other hand smoothed away her hair as he looked for evidence of damage. Sure enough, a faint red spot was forming just below her hairline. He cringed a little, and exhaled a brief sigh. "Looks like my hard head strikes again," he said gently in apology. "Don't worry, Eric, it's just a little bump," she said, blinking a little. "Nonsense," he answered, "my nieces have me well trained for injuries such as this," he offered. And then before he could second-guess himself or withdraw his hand from hers, Weiss found himself leaning in and pressing his lips to her forehead. He placed a gentle kiss on the injured site, and then another just next to it. "There, all better," he said, half-joking. Weiss leaned back, smoothing away one last stray strand of her hair, and suddenly hesitated. As he looked down his gaze was immediately met by hers. He paused, caught then in sudden apprehension that he had done or said the wrong thing, pushed the boundaries too far and gotten too comfortable in a vulnerable situation. And yet, all he could think of was how beautiful those brown eyes were, and how remarkable it was that he'd never gotten the chance to see them this close before. Maybe it was her eyes, he would wonder later. Perhaps that was what made him forget himself further, and lean in all the way and press his lips to hers. He felt only a moment of hesitation from her, as they both realized what was happening. And then he felt her kissing him back with just as much pressure; her lips were soft and warm and he could taste something sweet. He wondered if it was the sugar, or just his imagination running away with him and this moment. Either way, he was also starting to wonder if this was the real reason he'd dropped by here tonight. He was kissing Sydney Bristow, and it was almost too good to be true. It was when he felt her hand start to pull away, and her lips begin to still underneath his, that those thoughts started to fade. It was as if he'd shook the fantasy snow globe and now the last few little flakes were falling, bringing an end to the happy scene that was playing in his mind. He pulled away, too, watching as she blinked back at him in surprise, and her cheeks flushed as she lowered her gaze to the floor. Her mouth opened slightly For a moment he was paralyzed, knowing now for certain that he had stepped too far. This wasn't the expression of a pleased woman - he had startled her, assumed too much, and now it would be only a matter of seconds before embarrassment and guilt overtook him completely. Damnit, Eric. Way to go. Let's go back to the apartment-burning option, shall we? Her hands returned quickly to their earlier task, gathering the cookie fragments as best as she could. His eyes closed quickly, and he tried to think of what to say next. She was on her feet before he could say anything. He heard the broken cookies fall in the sink with a clatter, and when he stood, her gaze still didn't meet his. "I'll start the next tray," she said, her voice awkwardly light, "We can still get another dozen or so. You should..." "You know, I should probably go," he started to say, following that with a light chuckle. "It's been a long day, and I've made more of a mess of things here than anything else," he added, brushing at his shirt and tie, already preparing his retreat. "Eric no, it's fine, I just...I mean, it's only that I wasn't...I didn't..." Sydney turned towards him, obviously trying to find the right explanation for her hesitation. It was clear to him that she didn't want to let him down too hard, and he didn't want to stay around to hear anything more along the lines of what a good friend he was, or that she didn't mean to hurt his feelings. He could certainly take his cue, but still, he'd try to make it as gracious an exit as possible. "No no, Syd, no worries, really," he tried, offering her a brief smile. "Besides, I should probably, you know, go pick out my tie for tomorrow and everything," he added, waving her off and turning to leave. Weiss made the few paces to the door and retrieved the briefcase and jacket he'd dropped there on a nearby chair. When he turned back he saw that Sydney had followed him a few steps, and the expression on her face was so stricken and sympathetic that it made his heart plummet just a little bit lower. He had to leave now, or else risk making things even worse. If that's even possible. "Listen, I'll see you at the party tomorrow night," he said, hoping his easy tone of voice was convincing. He saw her look back towards the kitchen, and then back towards him, as if considering trying once more to get him to stay. Her fingers fidgeted nervously. But in the end, he could see her giving in to sense. "Okay," she said with a shrug, the corners of her mouth lifting briefly. "Sure, that'll be nice." "Yeah," he answered, a little relieved. "Take care," he said finally, before finding the doorknob and letting himself out. When he reached the hallway he closed the door behind him and paused for a moment, letting his breath out in a long sigh. This wasn't at all what he had envisioned for that night, not in the slightest. Now he'd end up spending the rest of it at home, consoling himself with a bottle of beer and rummaging through the back of his bottom dresser drawer for the most impressive of his novelty ties, to save face tomorrow and prove to Sydney he was still her friend and nothing more. And the whole idea gave him a sinking feeling in his stomach. Brushing a hand across his face, he straightened, and made his way down the hall towards the main foyer. He was just starting to contemplate the whole series of events for the third time when he heard the sound of a door opening behind him. He stopped in his tracks and turned, and was surprised by the sight of Sydney, emerging from her apartment in sugar-dusted apron-less apparel, and with a small tin in her hand. "Eric wait," she called after him, walking towards him and offering the box to him. "You shouldn't leave without some of these," she said. "I'd feel bad for making you do all that work and not getting to eat some later," she added. All right, he thought to himself. Nice. No hard feelings, then. I can live with that. "Sure, thanks," he said, reaching for the tin. His fingers brushed hers for a moment as she passed it to him and he smiled nervously back. She nodded back graciously, looking up at him for a moment and then away again. Right. My cue. "Listen, I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" he said, shifting his jacket to the arm that held his briefcase. "Yeah," she said, looking back again and smiling quickly. "For sure." He turned away and continued down the hall. In a few paces he'd have finally reached the main entrance and then he could get on with swallowing his embarrassment and putting this whole bizarre encounter behind him. But once again, he was stopped in his tracks. "Eric, hang on a second," Sydney said from behind him, and she followed his pace until she was almost standing next to him in the hall. Weiss turned back towards her in confusion, and wondered what more he could possibly do for her. "Yeah?" he asked lightly, exhaling quickly as he spoke. "I just need to...I wanted to check something," she said, stepping closer until she was right in front of him. Weiss swallowed, looking down at his feet and then back at her. She was standing so close now, almost as close as they were in the kitchen, and he was getting his second glimpse of those devastating brown eyes and wondering if he'd make it out of this situation in one piece. "Okay," he said, his voice quiet. She regarded him for a moment, biting her lip in silence, as if deciding something for herself, and he waited to hear what she would ask him. But she surprised him then by leaning in herself, closing the rest of the gap between them and bringing her lips to his. It took him a split second to realize what was actually happening: that Sydney was not just kissing him, but kissing him for the second time that night; that it was possible he'd been worrying and retreating for no good reason. Her lips pressed invitingly against his, and he kissed her right back, searching and letting his eyes flutter closed and enjoy this moment as long as he could. They parted slowly, and Weiss looked down at her as her hands came to rest at his shoulders. It didn't look at all to him as though she felt awkward, or guilty, or any of the things he would have imagined. In fact, she looked downright content, and he would even have sworn there was a twinkle in her eye that hadn't been there before. Or maybe I just didn't see it before. And so it was easy for him just then to meet her halfway, kissing her a third time, right there in the hallway. He let one arm fall and let his jacket and briefcase slip to the floor, and slid his hand around her waist. He pressed her closer to him as she wrapped her hands around the back of his neck, feeling her tongue along his lips and opening his mouth to hers as the kiss deepened completely. Intoxicating, was the only way he could think to describe it later. He was stunned, overwhelmed, amazed; all of these things at once and then something else he couldn't quite describe. How did one start to describe what it was like to be kissed by Sydney Bristow? For him it was like having all the questions in his mind silenced at once, replaced suddenly by answers he'd never known were there. This time when they parted they were both a little breathless. Sydney's hands came to rest below his shoulders, slipping along his tie and the sugar-tainted spots from before. Her cheeks were flushed. "You know," she said gently, in a tone of voice that was somehow different from any he'd heard from her before, "I was thinking of making egg nog." Her fingers brushed at his shirt again, and she looked up into his eyes with playful sincerity. "I could finish up the baking, and you could stay and have some egg nog with me afterwards," she invited, a broad smile moving across her expression. His eyebrows lifted in pleasant surprise. There was no way he was going to try to turn her down again. "I think that sounds pretty good," he answered, nodding at her and letting his hand slip back around from her waist and up towards her cheek. She took his hand in hers and gave it a squeeze, still keeping her eyes on his. "Okay." "Okay," he repeated, and laughed in spite of himself. Sydney's cheeks dimpled under her own laughter before she bent to help him collect his near-forgotten jacket and briefcase. He put his arm around her as they turned and walked back to her apartment, and wondered if he would ever be able to stop smiling. Maybe short holidays weren't so bad after all. * * * * * FIN |
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