Log in

No account? Create an account
ygrawn [userpic]

Alias Fanfiction: I met you in low places

June 9th, 2010 (10:29 pm)

Title: I met you in low places
Author: Ygrawn
Fandom: Alias
Pairing: Jack/Vaughn
Timeline: Early S2, prior to SD6 being destroyed.
Rating: R
Word Count: 1200
Prompt: From dodificus:Set before Sydney disappeared but after they took down whatever that evil fake CIA thing was called, SD6? Anyway. Ummm. I don't have a particular prompt all I have is a desperate desire to have someone still in fandom to write this pairing.
Author’s Note: For the wonderful dodificus on the occasion of my loving her, and also because I am terribly overdue on her request. Warning: written in thirty seven minutes. Title a play on a lyric from Throw Your Arms Around Me by Hunters & Collectors.


Jack Bristow is not a man who needs a preamble. There are no lingering glances between. There is no warning, no sense that Jack even knows what Vaughn wants, what he imagines in the private, unscrutinised confines of his mind. Actually, the government probably has found a way to read his mind, and somebody somewhere has catalogued the self-created pornography that keeps him company in the night.

One Tuesday morning, in the intersection of three hallways near the second floor men’s bathroom where there is blind spot in the surveillance system (and everybody in the Agency knows about those two square metres) Jack hands him a file and says, “Eight o’clock.”

The file is a two-year-old surveillance report on a small-time arms buyer who used to have meetings at the Continental downtown. Vaughn turns to say something, anything, but Jack is gone, to the bathroom or out some secret exit known only to him, he doesn’t know.

There are Cold War spies who would bow down before Jack.


Vaughn arrives at five minutes after eight, a small, irrelevant defiance. He asks for a room reservation in the name of the arms buyer and is handed key and a blank, impersonal stare from a receptionist trained to give nothing away. Better than Agency spies, they are.

Jack is waiting, seated in a fake Louis XVI chair in front of burgundy damask curtains. He has a drink. He has a red tie. He has a look Vaughn interprets as expectation, but it is no different from Jack’s usual mask.

“Take off your clothes,” he says when Vaughn has closed the door behind him.

“Kneel,” he says when Vaughn has tossed his briefs behind him.

“Lie down,” he says when Vaughn has choked on Jack’s cock.

He does not tell Vaughn to leave after he has bitten down on Vaughn’s neck and groaned like any other man, but it is implicit that Vaughn will now leave the scene of his own seduction.

And Vaughn does it all, follows Jack’s orders like a good boy – like a good solider – but unlike every other order he’s ever followed since he took this damn job, he enjoys it, even as he’s leaving.


Jack’s power is immense, extraordinary. He never takes all of his clothes off. He does not seem to countenance the idea that Vaughn will do anything except lie on his belly. He never gives Vaughn head and the mere idea is laughable. When they do talk it is not the conversation of two men messing up the bed sheets, but rather, a conversation between two men travelling in the elevator for a brief moment of their day. They might almost doff their hats to each other and say, “Have a good day.”


Vaughn dislocates his shoulder during what should have been a routine op in Montenegro. At work the next day Jack hands him a file and says, “Nine o’clock.”

For one burning moment Vaughn considers not going, but he knows he will. It would be easy to say he gets nothing out of their arrangement, but he gets pleasure that makes his belly ache and some part of his darkness is observed, accepted.

He gets pain, too, and he wants it.


He’s seven minutes early, but Jack is already waiting. He has a drink, as usual, but he’s poured one for Vaughn and he doesn’t tell Vaughn to take his clothes off or kneel. They linger over their whiskey and Jack asks questions about the mission, and although it is shop talk, it isn’t, because Jack could have – probably has – read the field report, so this is Jack talking to him simply to talk to him.

They silently agree that Vaughn can’t lie on his stomach and instead of their usual dance Vaughn finally gets to look Jack in the eye as Jack pushes into him before he’s quite ready. He gets to see Jack’s pupils dilate, his mouth fall open and know that he’s doing it to Jack. He gets to watch Jack’s body tighten with pleasure, and he touches himself, comes before Jack, mad at himself because he misses the moment of Jack’s transformation, the moment of his vulnerability.

But if a tree falls in a forest, he thinks.


“Thank you,” Vaughn says afterwards as they collect their breath.

“For what?”

“My arm…” He gestures vaguely to his position.

“It’s no kindness on my part. If the dislocation is delayed in healing, the medical staff will notice.”

Vaughn risks a glance at Jack and says, “You never mean what you say.”

“No,” Jack replies, truthfully or ironically is anybody’s guess and that’s the point.

Vaughn can’t help it; he laughs until his shoulder throbs hot.


When Vaughn gets dressed he struggles to manoeuvre his arm into his shirt. Jack sits on the edge of the bed and gently guides Vaughn’s arm into his sleeve. He helps Vaughn with his sling, smooths down the strap and sweeps his palm across Vaughn’s shoulder blade, almost in comfort.

Vaughn often forgets that Jack is a parent.


The next time in another hotel room they resume their old routine. Jack’s routine. Vaughn hadn’t expected it to be any different, had known that the previous occasion was a momentary aberration. He’s no fool: a man who kills other men can’t afford to be a fool.

But Vaughn begins to push at Jack’s boundaries, waiting a little longer each time before he leaves, talking to Jack – to the silence – telling Jack about his day or a hockey game he watched, or some newspaper article he read.

Vaughn tells him, one evening, about his father. A small, unimportant story, but when he’s done he says, “What was your father like?”

Jack says, flatly, “He’s been dead for twenty years.”

“And before that?”

“Your psychological profile suggests that because of the death of your father when you were so young, you subconsciously seek a father figure while consciously rejecting that need.”

Disappointment turns him sharp. “Spare me the psychobabble, Jack. I just lay down with you. Wanting to share something personal is actually quite normal.”

“Do you want me to share something with you?”


“When Sydney was ten, she went to summer camp. The girls in her cabin sat up late one night telling ghost stories. One of the girls told a story about a father being murdered by some ghost, I don’t know the details. She was a clever girl but suggestible, and she became inconsolable, somehow convinced I was going to be killed. The camp director rang me at two in the morning so she could speak to me, and when that didn’t calm her down, I drove eight hours to collect her. She cried when she saw me, and wouldn’t let go of me for hours. I doubt she remembers it, but I do.”

Vaughn shakes his head. “That isn’t a story about you.”

Jack sits up, reaches for his clothes. “Isn’t it? Do you think Sydney will ever love you that much? Do you think I would? And you’re wrong. Psychobabble is what gives men like me power over men like you.”

“What do you mean, men like me?” He regrets the question the moment it’s out.

“Men who lie down for others.”

This time Jack leaves first, as certain in his departure as everything else.

And Vaughn knows he is a fool, a self-deluding fool, because Jack has killed ten times as many men as him.




Posted by: Greta (gretazreta)
Posted at: June 9th, 2010 12:36 pm (UTC)

I LOVE this pairing so much, and I think I've only ever read one or maybe two stories in it: it was one of my first slash pairings ever.

This is a really fantastic story, it must have emerged from your head almost fully formed, like Athena from the head of Zeus.

It's sharply drawn, and spare, and nails Vaughn down so precisely.

Much love!

Posted by: ygrawn (ygrawn)
Posted at: June 9th, 2010 12:40 pm (UTC)

Yowza, I just posted this! Hello you - how are you? dodificus actually requested this fic FOREVER ago, so it has been fermenting in my mind for a while! It's not nearly as wise as Athena though.

Thanks for the feedback!

Posted by: dodificus (dodificus)
Posted at: June 9th, 2010 10:53 pm (UTC)

it was one of my first slash pairings ever.

Seriously? How did you even stumble across the fic for this back in the day? I can really only think of eliade who wrote for the pairing (but damn she wrote well).

Posted by: dodificus (dodificus)
Posted at: June 9th, 2010 10:51 pm (UTC)
god is a dj

Eeeep. I did not expect this. Even from *you*, who I have very high expectations of, I didn't expect you to nail *everything* I love about this pairing and these men, to nail *them*.

From the very opening line you got what I love about Jack Bristow and his angry little face: Jack Bristow is The Man. The mother fucking Man if you don't mind:)

but it is implicit that Vaughn will now leave the scene of his own seduction.

I laughed in delight at that sex scene, the shockingness of it and the brilliant abruptness of it but the sentence above is my favourite part.

mad at himself because he misses the moment of Jack’s transformation, the moment of his vulnerability.

But if a tree falls in a forest, he thinks.

Hells, *yes*. God, how could I ever have tricked myself into thinking you'd already written this prompt for me? I should have known it would be unforgettable.

Vaughn risks a glance at Jack and says, “You never mean what you say.”

“No,” Jack replies, truthfully or ironically is anybody’s guess and that’s the point.

Vaughn can’t help it; he laughs until his shoulder throbs hot.

I feel like a dork gushing so much over this but so few people have written in this pairing and you clearly have secret ninja jack/vaughn skills that are blowing my mind here.

I love the Vaughn pov, I love the Jack voice, I love the sex, I love *you*. Please feel free to write in this pairing again, NO PRESSURE:P

Posted by: ygrawn (ygrawn)
Posted at: June 11th, 2010 12:47 am (UTC)

LOL - your feedback always makes me laugh. I saw this yesterday morning, but had a long day at work and when out last night, so I haven't had a chance to reply until now.

It seems we have the exact same interpretation of Jack because he is TOTALLY the motherfucking man. He's such pure power, I think, or at least he is by the time we meet him in the show, after decades in the game, his life wheels within wheels. But he can be so clever and smooth with his power: precise, power as a sharp instrument rather than a blunt one, although he can be blunt too. There's so much restraint, but so much *there*, which is fascinating to write.

And Vaughn was interesting to write too, because he isn't stupid, but he isn't the Boy Scout he pretends to be either.

I was surprised by how quickly and easily this came when I sat down to write it the other day. So although I don't know that I've got secret jack/vaughn ninja skills, I was definitely intrigued by the potential of the pairing!

And I'll take dorky gushing from you any day!

Posted by: Destiny! And chicken! (nu_breed)
Posted at: June 11th, 2010 05:58 am (UTC)
BSG - Starbuck

Oh, this is OUTSTANDING. What flawless character voices. Perfect.

Posted by: ygrawn (ygrawn)
Posted at: June 11th, 2010 07:12 am (UTC)

Thank you! Am glad you enjoyed it!

Posted by: Jena Bartley (jenab)
Posted at: June 13th, 2010 09:59 pm (UTC)
alias - jack master spy

This is a really interesting and fascinating look into Jack and Vaughn.

Posted by: ygrawn (ygrawn)
Posted at: June 21st, 2010 02:34 am (UTC)

Thanks - I'm glad you enjoyed it!

Posted by: ygrawn (ygrawn)
Posted at: June 21st, 2010 02:38 am (UTC)

Also, thanks for the rec!

Posted by: karaokegal (karaokegal)
Posted at: June 15th, 2010 09:46 pm (UTC)

OH. MY. GOD!!! (recced here by jenab)

Jack/Vaughn is my Alias OTP and this story pressed every single kink button I have for their relationship including Vaughn's daddy issues and the sub-text of their competition for Sydney's love. I adore how you have Jack completely dominating Vaughn mentally, emotionally and physically. This is EXACTLY how I see them, and it's so freaking hot, I can hardly stand it.

Thank you so much for writing this. I'm glad to know that the Jack/Vaughn flag is still fying somewhere.

Posted by: ygrawn (ygrawn)
Posted at: June 21st, 2010 02:37 am (UTC)

Thank you for this gorgeous, lovely feedback! This was based on a request, and I wasn't sure if I could Jack or Vaughn. My previous Alias fic was written from Sydney and Irina's perspectives. So, it was a surprise to myself to discover I had this Jack/Vaughn button that once pressed, took off! I'm glad you enjoyed this - thanks again!

Posted by: karaokegal (karaokegal)
Posted at: June 21st, 2010 05:30 pm (UTC)

Pssst...if you'd like to crosspost this to alias_slash, that would be awesome. I know it's kind of a dead community right now, but jenab and I have not completely given up, and one more place to pimp your fic is never a bad thing. I'm also adding it to my pimp post at my LJ today.

13 Read Comments