[Alias] The Effects of Alcohol on the Maturity Level of Spies
Title: The Effects of Alcohol on the Maturity Level of Spies
Fandom: Alias
Author: kawaiispinel
Feedback: ... Is loverly.
Word Count: 829
Rating: PG
Characters: Weiss, Sydney, Vaughn, and Sark
Summary: Weiss has a hidden talent and Sydney and Vaughn intend to show it to the world.... Or just Sark. Sark is not amused.
Disclaimer: Alias is not mine, but if JJ is wondering where his characters went, they're right here in my head. He can have some of them back if he asks nicely and promises not to mistreat them. There is a Buffy line I shamelessly ganked, but reference is a sincere form of flattery or... Something.
Author's Note: Why I should never write when I've been drinking a fuzzy navel all afternoon (Hi, I'm dizzy) on top of being sick all day. Hopefully, the intended effect of this fic comes across, because it was supposed to be a... Oh crap. I forgot what that trope is called. You'll know it when you read it.... And when did a Weiss move into my headspace?
"No. No. A world of no. Epic amounts of no. I can't even tell you how much no. I could say nothing but no until the end of time, and it wouldn't even begin to touch on the amount of no I would need to respond to that."
Sydney and Vaughn exchanged looks as if they were wondering how many more times Weiss could say 'no' in the next five minutes if they let him go on, and then decided it would probably stop being amusing after awhile even with the amount of alcohol in their systems.
Weiss, fortunately, stopped himself before they could. "And what? Are you two twelve all of a sudden? Why are we playing truth or dare again?"
"Because we've been drinking for the last four hours," Vaughn explained. Not heavily, of course, but enough to make them all just a bit tipsy and more open to insane ideas involving children's party games.
"And you were the one who suggested it," Sydney pointed out, smiling around the lip of her beer bottle.
"I have no recollection of that," Weiss said in a stubborn way that suggested he knew he had suggested it and was hoping that no one else remembered it. It wasn't his fault that Sydney was possessed by Satan when she drank too much- that was the only excuse for that dare, honestly. He expected Vaughn to back up on the sheer wrongness of that dare, but either Vaughn was far too drunk to care or he thought it would be cruel and unusual and thus amusing.
With friends like these....
"Isn't there, like, a secondary dare you can make me do? Something disgusting and horrible, like make me eat rat anuses or something?" Really, the possibilities were endless and he'd be open to anything except what they were suggesting. Rat anuses sounded damn appealing at this point.
Sydney and Vaughn both simultaneously choked on their beers and made disgusted faces at him. When that failed to yield any sort of result- Weiss looked like he was prepared to lecture them on the culinary benefits of rat anuses and no one wanted to hear that- Sydney broke in, "If you don't, Vaughn will put in a request to have your callsign changed to something girly and horrible."
"So unless you want to be called 'Barbie' over the comms, I'd suggest you do it," Vaughn added, grinning wickedly.
Weiss's jaw dropped. "You can't.... You don't have the.... Do you?"
Vaughn fixed him with an extremely serious look that just looked comical considering his recent alcohol consumption. "Hey, I got stuck with 'Boy Scout.' I have my ways, Weiss."
For a moment, all Weiss could do was shift his gaze from the two of them, wondering if they were pulling his leg or if they were both possessed by Satan. He stared at the bottle of beer in his hands, forgotten the moment Sydney dared him to do something that would probably haunt him forever, and finally decided that maybe if he drank a little more he'd be completely okay with this.
"I hate you both so much right now," he muttered before downing the last of the beer and going for another.
~*~
The next morning (after the hangover subsided and she remembered what she and Vaughn had asked Weiss to do, courtesy of a drunken truth or dare game), Sydney paid a visit to Sark's cell.
She was fairly certain she'd never seen him look that irritated in all her time knowing him and it was far more amusing than it should have been. Wet cats tend to bear a similar expression to the one he shot her way as he stalked towards the glass wall of the cell. "Three hours, Agent Bristow. Three hours."
Sydney just smirked, "We gave him a minimum of one, but he got into it. That's how he put himself through college, you know?"
"I'm almost certain that can be construed as cruel and unusual punishment."
"Kendall didn't think so. He was more irritated with the fact that Weiss snuck into the rotunda after hours than anything else." She didn't add that Weiss hadn't gotten much more than a slap on the wrist for it- apparently even Kendall had felt sorry for him even if he did try to lecture him on what was appropriate behavior on government property, but eventually he'd had to walk away, laughing, and Weiss had, once again, expressed his hatred of her and Vaughn.
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Sark asked her when he realized she wasn't going to wipe that amused smirk off of her face.
"Why would you say that?" She replied, sweetly. She paused and then added, "And it's not like you don't deserve it."
Sark pressed his palms against the glass and leaned as close to to her face as he could get given the wall between them and said, through gritted teeth, "No one deserves mime, Sydney."