Everything's the same…

This Chapter: All aboard the AU Train! See chapter title…anything else would give everything away. Oh, and it's IMMENSLY FLUFFY! Cotton Candy Warning.

Suggested Soundtrack: Any cheesy boy band song you can think of (I chose "God Must Have Spent a Little More Time on You" by 'N Sync) and "This is the Night" by Clay Aiken

Author's Note: Okay, here's a little story. I decided to work on this because it's Winter Break, I don't want to do my homework, and this has gone unfinished long enough. Well, I haven't seen "Endgame" in a while, so I whip out my Season 2 DVD's to check it out. I'm watching it, and all of a sudden…WHAM! There's footage of the Drawer Scene that wasn't there when it aired! (Believe me, I checked my tapes.) Maybe I just catch on slow, but I was really excited. It inspired me to finish this the way I did. If you don't have the DVD's, it's worth the $50 or so just to see the extended scene. (There's another about ten seconds during "A Dark Turn" too.) Anyways, enjoy this last chapter!

Chapter Four: Keys, Surprises, and Snakes: Oh My!

Some people say that those who work at the CIA have no designated working hours, no starting or quitting time. That the whistle never blows; they never get a chance to punch out. That they're never really off the clock.

They're right.

That's why the sharpest tools in the shed make their hours.

Sydney and Vaughn are pretty damn sharp. Which is why they left the Ops Centre at a fairly decent time that day: nine o'clock PM. Syd's usually clipped pace was toned down, her unsteady legs too tired to carry her much faster. She noticed this because Vaughn was able to keep up with her on their hike to the Federal Annex.

They hit every red light on the way by some ungodly feat, but neither minded much. As neither of them carried a briefcase due to the near-certainty of being pickpocketed, their hands were free to holding anything or anyone they desired. (And anyways, they had wormed themselves out of any 'homework', as Weiss called it, that Kendall could have possibly assigned. What with their sharpness and all.) After only the second red light those hands desired to link themselves together for the entire world to see. If the couple had not been of reasonably sound mind, they would have spread apart as far as their combined arm span could carry them, pointed to their conjoined hands, and said to the passersby, "See? See right here? Yeah, that's right: we're holding hands. In public. And no one's shooting at us. Isn't it wonderful!"

But they weren't and they didn't.

In fact, the two were probably as close as they could get without crawling into the other's clothes. Although Vaughn's fingers were flirting dangerously with the hem of Sydney's jacket.

Somehow they made it to the parking garage without any other major public displays of affection other than halting at every red light and passionately embracing until the walk sign flashed again. (Once, they even missed it; they'd had to wait a second time.) As they approached Syd's car, Vaughn stepped in front of her.

"Gimme the keys."

She stared at him, puzzled. "What?"

With as straight a face as he could muster he repeated, "Gimme the keys."

"No, I heard you," She affirmed, struggling to keep a nervous giggle from bubbling up in the middle of a word. She raised her eyebrows and lilted her mouth. "Why do you want my keys?"

He rolled his eyes and slouched slightly. "So I can scratch my ear. What do you think?"

"Sorry, sorry!"

"Give. Me. The. Keys."

"N-O," She answered, mirroring his tone perfectly. "Look, it's only about nine thirty. I'm not drunk; I'm not about to fall asleep. I don't need a designated driver, Vaughn."

"I know. Now gimme the keys."

"NO!" She restated, more firmly than before. She was beginning to get agitated, and with good reason. Why was Vaughn being so…weird? So secretive? So…cheeky? "You're not getting anything tonight, let alone these keys."

"Don't make me go into your purse and get them."

"Oh please," She scoffed. "I'd like to see you try to mug me. I could kick your ass five hundred different ways. Come and get me, big boy."

"That's quite all right."

"Good. Now let's go." She started to dig around in her purse again, looking for the disputed objects, when his outstretched palm flew under her nose.

"Okay. Just as soon as you give me the keys." Syd looked up in disbelief; her jaw slackened and eyes went wide. He curled his fingers repeatedly, beckoning for her compliance. The corners of his mouth were drawn so tightly that she could tell he was suppressing a giant smile. She usually loved when he did that; his face was always so cute, what with his raised eyebrows and forehead wrinkles and the cleft in his chin more pronounced than usual. But now she was tiring of their game and just wanted to go home.

But her mouth had a different plan.

"For the last fucking time, no!" She exclaimed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Would you just drop it? I'll drive us back to my apartment and your car so you can get your ass out of my sight."

"Oh, but my ass is so cute." Before she could slip in a biting remark he continued, "Well, then I'll just have to break into your car, hotwire it, kidnap you, and drive away." She scoffed loudly. "Oh don't even think I won't."

Finally tiring to the point of not caring, she haphazardly threw the keys at her boyfriend, not minding that they almost hit him in the face. "Fine. Here. But if so much as a bird craps on my car while you're driving, I will hurt you in so many different ways—"

"Honey, this is no place for S and M talk," He interrupted smoothly, chuckling at her subsequent eye roll. "Now, if you would be so kind, please get in, buckle up, and prepare for a surprise."

"I don't like surprises," Sydney grunted as she slid into the passenger's seat. "Remember lunch today?"

"Yeah," He chuckled again at the memory. "That was pretty damn funny."

Vaughn and Syd had made a point of avoiding each other all morning in order to live to the end of the day. The rumour was going around that Jack was storming about the Ops Centre looking for blood, namely Vaughn's. Sydney assumed that he would not be particularly happy to see her, either, and so she mainly kept to the perimeter of the building and remained moving as much as possible. But during her lunch break, Weiss though it would be funny to corner Syd in one room, Vaughn in another, somehow lead them to each other, and sic Jack on them under the pretense of 'processing a surprise walk-in.'

Needless to say, Weiss succeeded in something for the first time in his life, it was a miracle the couple survived the day without permanent physical disabilities, and Weiss had started watching his back and using mirrors to look around corners.

As they pulled out onto the street, Syd sighed heavily and responded, "You know, I would think you'd be just as pissed as I am! My father practically told you he was going to poison your coffee tomorrow."

He shrugged it off. "Eh, I expected that. It was a small price to pay to see your face when he walked in. I thought you were going to pass out and die right there."

"Well how was I supposed to react?" She retorted, turning in her seat to face him. "We were practically groping each other in there! I'm surprised he didn't shoot you in the balls! I think screaming bloody murder and hiding behind a chair constituted a fitting reaction."

"Whatever you say, babe," Vaughn stated in an aloof tone, capping off their conversation. Sydney began paying attention to her surroundings. She had been in this part of the city before, so maybe they were going to a new restaurant for a late dinner. But she still could have driven them, her logic countered. Vaughn gave near-perfect directions; it's in the job description. She just chose to ignore them sometimes…

Presumably tiring of the silence, Vaughn reach over and began fiddling with the radio stations. After a good solid minute of alternating static and snip-its of every song ever made, he finally settled on a Top 40 station that was playing the top pop ballads of the past decade. They had tuned in just in time to hear the years old "God Must Have Spent a Little More Time on You" by 'N Sync. Despite both of them groaning, no one moved to change it.

That should have been her first sign: cheesy boy band music on the stereo.

But they continued on in silence.

Syd began fidgeting. She was getting more and more curious as to where they were going. Her surroundings were still familiar, and they were starting to spark memories as well. There was the street to the warehouse…Over there was where they used to go 'window shopping'…At that bar they had conversations over the telephone while being mere feet apart…

When they passed the convenience store where he first offered her a 'Slusho', she could tolerate her lack of knowledge no more. "Where the hell are we going, Vaughn?" She asked, all of her frustration pouring out in those seven words.

Vaughn cringed melodramatically as he swung left on the street after the convenience store. "Wow. Take anger management classes much, Syd?" She gave him a Look, not really expecting him to notice. Surprisingly, he took his hand off the wheel to wag a finger at her, and she gasped out of fear for her car. He calmly regained his grip and drove on. "Simmer, Syd, simmer. I'm just avoiding all the streets where the gangs of pigeons congregate." Successfully resisting the urge to stick her tongue out at him, she continued to stare straight ahead. Becoming a shade more serious he added, "Don't worry; you'll like where we're going. I promise."

This did not sit well with Sydney, but she kept her lips glued together.

Soon enough, he slowed down so that they were practically crawling down the street; a toddler learning how to walk could have outrun their car.

That should have been the second sign: slowing down and the motorists' curses that followed.

He leaned forward over the steering wheel and pointed up towards the corner apartment on the top floor.

That third sign was the charm: she began to recognize the signs as they broke upon her consciousness.

The building itself was almost overshadowed by the surrounding complexes: it was just that small and quaint.

The apartments had small balconies.

Almost all of those balconies had flower boxes.

She could see Donovan sleeping from where she sat, and imagined she could hear his snores all the way from the street.

Her dreams were transferring over to reality.

Vaughn turned to her, positively beaming, and she could have sworn the wattage of the street lamps went up. "That's my apartment," He whispered proudly.

She could not help but mirror his smile watt for watt.

Then suddenly he swung left sharply, pulling into the small parking lot in front of the building. At first she did not know what he was doing, but then it dawned on her: he was going to take her inside. This was better than she could have hoped: not a drive-by, but an actual tour! She practically vibrated in anticipation.

He opened her car door for her, and she stepped out on shaky legs and nonexistent knees. Hand in hand, they strode towards the front door of his building. She made nice while he introduced her as his girlfriend to the doorman, a portly old man who looked more like part of the chipped sidewalk than a security guard. She patiently waited while he grabbed his mail from a line of silver boxes in the lobby, nodding politely to the receptionist when he introduced her to him as well.

Every nerve seemed to hum with activity as the elevator rode up to the top floor. He kept sneaking sidelong glances at Syd through the corner of his eye, monitoring her reaction like a hawk. Sneaking would not be the right word, though, as the entire cage was made of reflective metal, and she could see every move he made.

It finally spit the couple onto the desire floor, and although she thought she would need a stretcher or at least crutches to get to Vaughn's apartment, she began the stroll to his door at the end of the hall not far behind him. She began to hope desperately that they would run into no one else along the way; she knew she would not be able to handle stopping once more before their destination. Thankfully the corridor was deserted and stayed that way during their interminable stroll. Syd could feel her heart rate skyrocket and struggled to keep her palms from sweating too horribly.

They reached his white door, the gold paint on the numbers chipping and peeling. She saw him glance at her to gauge her reaction yet again, so she smiled: she had absolutely nothing against something that looked lived in. His hand hurriedly dove into his pocket, extracted a ring of keys, and fit one in the dead bolt. Locking eyes with his girlfriend, he squeezed her hand ever tighter, turned the knob, and opened the door into a whole new world.

It was nothing like she imagined it to be.

She thought there would be beer bottles and empty pizza cartons everywhere, even a chew toy or ten laying about. Instead, the surfaces were clean, dusted, and polished; a small wicker basket tucked neatly in a corner housed Donovan's play things. She gingerly tiptoed into a three-in-one room. To her left was the living area, complete with an entertainment centre, couch, loveseat, and well-used Lay-Z-Boy. A small coat closet nestled itself next to the door. A dinning room seat dominated the view in front of her at the back right corner of the room. The doors to the balcony opened up from behind it. In the far-left corner was a kitchenette with an island stove. Between the living and cooking areas there was a break in the wall, and a corridor ran off into the distance.

Leaving Vaughn at the doorway, she pursued this tangent. On her immediate left, a small well-kept bathroom sat beside a guestroom, obviously unused for a while. And on her right…her goal: his bedroom. She stepped inside reverently, as if she were walking into a church or similar holy site. White trimmed the pale blue walls, matching perfectly with navy blue quilt spread out across his bed against the left wall. Next to his nightstand was another doorway, no doubt leading to the master bathroom. She resisted the urge to peek in there, and instead continued to investigate his room.

The cherry wood of his bed matched the nightstand, which matched the dresser on her immediate left and across the room from the windows, which matched the long, low chest of drawers where his TV sat opposite his bed and next to the closet. The only piece of furniture that did not match was the computer desk tucked away in the far-left corner of the room. Passively, she wondered which he picked out himself and which he had help choosing.

There wasn't a dirty sock, pair of boxers, or even a single shoe anywhere to be found on the floor. The only remotely cluttered are of the entire apartment was the surface around his TV: a multitude of picture frames, hockey trophies, and framed certificates were scattered about like large chunks of confetti. This childlike quality coaxed a warm smile out of Sydney as she sat gingerly on the corner of her bed, resisting the urge to snap up a pillow and revel in his scent.

A throat cleared from the hallway, and she looked up to see Vaughn leaning nonchalantly in the doorway. Grinning as if he read her mind he stated, "Go ahead; take a pillow."

She gladly complied, holding the malleable fabric to her nose and inhaling again and again.

"So," He stalled, sidling across the room to sit beside her, "what do you think?"

"It's immaculate, Vaughn," She replied, still awestruck and slightly overwhelmed.

He smiled wider, practically puffing out his chest with pride. "Clean, isn't it?" She cocked an eyebrow, surmising everything from his tone. Deflating a bit he conceded, "I've been planning this for a while. I cleaned for an entire weekend to get it to look like this."

She laughed blithely and leaned into him, tossing the pillow behind her as she snuggled to his side. Looking up at him she whispered, "Thank you. Thank you for everything. I—this is just great."

So much for being a lit major.

But he continued smiling despite her lack of grace, rubbing her arm soothingly. He kissed the top of her head before he stood and crossed to the door. "I don't know about you, but I'm starving. I'll make us some sandwiches." He started to leave but stopped in mid-stride. Turning back to her he offered her a half-grin. "Oh and the middle drawer—" He pointed towards the dresser with the TV "—it's yours." And Vaughn continued down the hall, whistling an indiscernible tune.

Sydney almost fainted.

Almost.

But she did fall off the bed, thankfully without a large thump.

After crawling over to the dresser, she ran her fingers gingerly over the strong wood almost in disbelief. First a drive-by; then a tour; now a drawer! She thought the night could not possibly get any better.

Until she opened the drawer.

There, beside an extra set of new clothing, lay a single silver key. The same key he had shown her the day she called him on his questionable activities. The key to his apartment.

The only thing keeping her from fainting was her death grip on the poor metal object, forcing it to cut into her hand and make her feel something besides the numbing happiness threatening to engulf her being.

"Did you find it yet?" Vaughn called from the kitchen.

She remained immobile and incapable of speech. His footsteps gradually neared his bedroom again, and he appeared in the doorway wiping his hands on a dishtowel. "Oh good," He sighed in relief. "I thought you fainted and hit your head on a corner or something."

All she could manage was a squeak in response.

Trying his hardest to tone down the smile glued to his face he said, "That's my not-so-subtle way of asking you to spend the night. See? I even bought you some clothes for tomorrow."

She shook her head slowly, still too bewildered for words. Gripping the edge of the dresser, she pulled herself up onto the Shakiest Legs in the World. Gradually they grew stronger as she crossed the room to stand in front of him, the key still gripped tightly in her palm. "Vaughn—" She started, her voice breaking with joy. They both laughed, and he reached out to her non-key-holding hand, throwing the towel over his shoulder. "Vaughn," She tried again, this time forty-seven times stronger, "are you sure we aren't moving too fast here?"

He shrugged and shook his head simultaneously. "No. But you never know for sure until you've tried it. Why don't we give this a shot? See how it goes?" They locked eyes, and she positively beamed before throwing her arms around his neck with such force that they were propelled backwards into the wall of the hallway. Laughing heartily and freely, Vaughn wrapped his arms about her waist and drew her closer, placing a quick kiss on her lips. "I love you so much, Sydney. There's no one else I'd rather do this with."

"Oh, God, I love you too," She whispered, burying her head in the crook of his neck as they hugged fiercely, never wanting to let go of one another.

Donovan chose that moment to waddle down the hall and begin sniffing curiously around Sydney's legs. They broke apart and laughed nervously, glad everything between them was no longer secret. He smiled down upon her, tightening his grip around her waist. "How 'bout those sandwiches now?"

* * *

She could not stand it for another moment. Ever since she had been given the drawer at his apartment, the temptation to peek into the drawer he kept at her place was unbearable. It taunted her every night before she went to sleep and every morning when she woke up. She literally though she was going to go insane.

So finally, a two measly days after her own drawer was bestowed upon her, she vowed to look into his drawer if it was the last thing she did.

That day, they arrived at her apartment after work to find both Francie and Will at home. Internally, Sydney did her happy dance. If she asked them sweetly or bribed them, they would distract her boyfriend long enough for her to sneak a look.

But, unfortunately, as soon as the couple walked through the door, Syd's friends shot up from the couch, grabbed their coats, and zoomed out the door, citing an emergency at the restaurant. Her hopes dampened slightly, but were not extinguished. Declaring hunger, she asked Vaughn to find something for them to eat while she 'changed into something more comfortable.' He complied eagerly.

Not even bothering to close the door, she scampered over to her bureau and ran her fingers over the smooth wood of the Middle Drawer. She slowly pulled it out and—

"Ah!" She screamed. About one hundred spring-loaded plastic snakes sprang into her face at once, and she scrambled to scrape them of her as fast as she could. Vaughn came running into her room with his shirtsleeves rolled up and another towel slung over his shoulder. When he caught sight of her, he simply smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

"Gotcha."

Sydney grunted in frustration and thew a handful of snakes at his retreating back. "Your drawer politics suck!"

"Get used to it!" He yelled back. "I'll be here for quite a while. I love my drawer!"

END