Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There was nothing more dangerous than a bored Double-O agent. 

Although, dangerous didn’t necessarily mean deadly when it came to an agent lurking about on their home turf with no real direction or cause. It could mean something as inane as a tantalizing distraction out in the secretary’s pool, or as innocuous as a few missing prototypes from Q-Branch. Those were only dangerous perhaps to things like delayed paperwork or maybe a spontaneous fiery hole that appeared in the walls off one agent’s flat. No matter what M’s stance was on assassins without orders, they were hardly any real trouble at all if one looked at it from a global perspective. 

Which was exactly why Bond did not feel any bit of remorse as he stalked through the halls of MI6 headquarters, leaving chaos, confusion, and perhaps some lingering glances in his wake. It would probably take Tanner another five minutes of searching for his best pen before he even thought of blaming Bond’s wandering fingers for taking it when he wasn’t looking. He’d find it again soon enough though the next time he popped into M’s office to see it tucked neatly in the pen holder there. As for the secretary’s pool, well the chittering over the handsome agent bringing them all treats would end eventually and the files of paperwork would only be delayed a quarter hour more at most. 

Hardly deadly indeed. 

As it stood though, Bond was getting bored again now that the brief excitement of his mischief had worn off. M’s fuse must either be longer today, or there truly wasn’t any mission available for one of Bond’s skills, otherwise surely he would have been sent out yet. 

He wondered which it was.

Moneypenny would know , he thought to himself and turned on his oxford heel to head back down the hallway where her desk was.

Along the way he was able to catch his reflection in a window, and gave himself a quick glance over to make sure that he was presentable enough to be in her radiant presence. After all, looking his best got him through many dire situations before, surely it wouldn’t hurt to apply the same technique to approach the lovely and ever sturdy backbone of MI6. 

Bond strode into the anteroom that homed her desk, and made sure he wore his most charming smile as he approached and cocked a hip up on the edge of her desk.

She didn’t even glance up at him as she continued to type up her email.

“Bond, to what do I owe this distraction?” she asked, only the hint of a smirk gracing her painted lips. 

Bond’s expression didn’t even waver, “Hardly a distraction if you haven’t even lost a keystroke yet,” he said as he began to poke at the latest vase of fragrant flowers on her desk. There was a little white note tucked within the stems. Not her birthday. Hasn’t been dating anyone of note long enough to warrant any sort of anniversary…, “New admirer, or someone asking favors again?” he asked, caressing the petal of a golden lilly. 

“Stop fondling the flowers, Bond.”

“Worried they’ll wilt when I leave their presence?”

She rolled her eyes and tapped a key loudly, her email apparently concluded, “Worried pollen will get everywhere and I’ll end up listening to M sneeze all day. 004 was kind enough to bring them to me in the first place, without an ulterior motive, and I’d like to bask in that kind of attention, ta.”

Bond felt himself perk up at the mention of the other agent, and tried to school his features, but damn it if Moneypenny wasn’t the most observant creature in all of England. Already she was grinning slyly up at him, her computer all but forgotten now. So much for not being a distraction.

“Hmm, seems someone is a bit interested to know that 004 is back home. Miss him, did you?” the quirk of her lips was unmistakably coy. 

Bond knew better than to attempt to deny it in front of her, but he couldn’t just admit the thrill that came with the knowledge that the younger agent had finally come back from one of his longer missions. It had been at least three months since the last time that Bond had seen the agent heading out of Q-Branch with a parting wave and a gun. If he recalled correctly, he was being sent off to find and seduce some crime lord and gain as much intel on the man’s contacts. Missions like that were always a balancing act between waiting long enough to gain enough critical information and performing the final act prior to becoming suspicious. Bond rarely had the patience for such things, but 004 was an artist when it came to playing the long game. 

“Living in the present, as we agents tend to do, it is hard to actually miss anything beyond some sleep. That being said, 004 does provide an uncanny amount of entertainment whenever he, himself is present as well,” Bond said with a wink. 

She laughed, “One would never have guessed going off that darling face of his. No wonder he’s so successful on honeypots. Unassuming and innocent right up until he has you spilling your credit card pins and mother’s maiden name with just a few well placed words.”

“He’s full of all sorts of contradictions, indeed. His mission went well then?” Bond asked, sounding perfectly indifferent to anyone else, but Moneypenny would see through it. And she did, he could tell just by the way her eyes shifted, the slight narrowing of the lids. It was hardly a secret that 007 and 004 enjoyed each other’s company, even if the nature of that company was not common knowledge. Moneypenny could probably smell it on them, but she was the only one who probably knew without a doubt. 

“You know I’m not allowed to share that information until the reports are concluded and signed off on. But I can divulge that he is back, and that he was in good enough spirits, and condition, to mention he may be headed down to Q-Branch before he goes home to rest,” she tilted her head towards the door suggestively, “If you hurry you may catch him before Q steals him away for some project or another.”

Bond didn’t exactly hurry away to do just that, after all he made sure to keep his exiting stride calm and even, but there was no fooling Moneypenny no matter what he tried. There was no denying that Bond was eager to catch up to his fellow agent. 

Anything to end the horrendous boredom.

Entering Q-Branch always reminded him of the inner workings of bee hives. Everyone had their set tasks, and all of them with some underlying urgency that motivated their feet to scurry along under flapping lab coats. Q was no slouch when it came to making sure the branch ran with some sort of interwoven efficiency, and the various techs danced around each other like they were all in an elaborate dance. At first it always looked terribly chaotic, but eventually a pattern was made apparent to the more observant people. 

Boothroyd worked his branch as best he could, given that his talents lay in gadgets more than people, but he was getting up there in years now and there was some buzz in the air about having to replace the man who had kept this hive going for nearly two decades now. Those were some awfully large shoes to fill, and Bond found himself a little apprehensive about accepting anyone else as leader of the technological domain. Trust was hard to come by for agents, and James wasn’t keen on trusting some wet behind the ears techie to take Q’s place. 

Bond could only hope that would be years away though. There was something comforting about seeing the balding head of frizzy white hair upon entering Q-Branch.

Said head was quickly spotted by Bond as he stepped off the lift and walked into the large central room of the branch, and it just happened to be located right next to another unique and equally familiar head of hair. Bond allowed himself one small and quick smirk upon spotting 004 before he schooled his features back into his casually mischievous expression and strode over to the two other men.

Both of them were bent over some mess of wires and gears, their hands gesturing wildly as they rambled about potential energy and high pressure laminates. 

One set of sharp green eyes flashed up at Bond as he approached, assessing the incoming danger before dropping back down to his wires, the threat noticed and dismissed for the moment. 004 was always aware of his surroundings even in a familiar environment, just like any skilled agent should be. 

Bond did his own assessment as well, noting the small red stained bandage over one eyebrow and the wrist wrap peeking out from under his left sleeve. The younger agent was bending over easily at the table at least, so injuries to the torso were probably minimal to none. 004 was one of the more clever and resourceful agents in MI6’s employ, and was usually quite good at not getting shot or heavily damaged. 

Sauntering over to the table, Bond carefully placed a well practiced smirk on his lips. One that he knew made him look devilish and charming at the same time. After all, that look paired so well with the glint of mischief that 004 couldn’t help but carry. 

“Hello, Q,” he said upon arrival.

“Hullo,” Boothroyd chirped, still ducked down as he fiddled with a loose wire, “I didn’t think you had a mission today.”

Bond shrugged, “Was in the neighborhood and decided to stop by and see what goodies you may have laying around in here.”

Boothroyd snorted inelegantly while muttering about coworkers and goodies under his breath. It made Bond wonder if the old man was a bit more observant than he gave him credit for, but he didn’t dignify it with a response. Instead he ducked down to catch the eye of 004, winking at him over the circuit board.

“Just got back and already sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong? Q here will have to start paying you as a consultant if you keep messing around down here.”

“Seeing as we’re spies, I’d say sticking our noses where they don’t belong is rather an occupational hazard, don’t you think?” came the quick reply. Boothroyd chuckled. 

Bond smiled wider, “Indeed. Welcome back, 004.”

“And good afternoon to you, 007,” the younger agent said smoothly, pointedly not pausing to look up. 

Around them the branch continued to hum and mumble with activity, the smell of electrical ozone mixed with coffee and grease tickling at their noses. As always, no matter how much the world was going to shit outside the walls of MI6, this place was always the same. It was comforting in a way. But Bond wasn’t really looking for comfort just then. 

He was still bloody bored. 

And from the amused gentle quirk in 004’s brow, paired with the curved edge of his lips, Bond knew that 004 was completely aware of this. 

“If you need something to do, 007, I recall Q mentioning that there were some prototypes the interns had been working on that need their practical tests done,” he offered innocently. Next to him Boothroyd lit up with unrestrained glee.

“Yes, there are several tools that I’m very excited to see tested,” he beamed.

Bond twisted his features into a deeply regretful expression that nobody but Bond, and perhaps 004, would know was fake. While the Quartermaster’s thrill for gadgets and explosive devices was endlessly endearing to the Double O agents, they all knew through painful experience that when the interns were involved in the design they rarely got things right on the first go. They’d all suffered burns and inner ear concussions at the hands of wayward interns, and while Bond was looking for excitement, he was not looking to lose his eyebrows again. 

“I would love to, but you see I have a few errands to run and the shops will be closing soon. Perhaps another time. Or maybe 004 here would be able to assist?” Bond said while smothering a smirk at the annoyed look that flashed over 004s face. As much as the younger agent adored working in Q-Branch, he had just gotten off a mission and probably did not have a night in medical in mind. 

Boothroyd waved his hand dismissively, “Ah, 004 has already said that he had plans for tonight and is just helping me with the circuit board. My hands aren’t as steady as they used to be. I’ll try to catch one of you another time. The interns are very eager to try out a flame thrower hidden inside a can of shaving cream, and so am I!”

Bond blinked once, mentally doing a calculation of how long he could put off coming down to Q-Branch again. Maybe he’d try to trick Alec into coming down here in the next week…

He knelt down to 004’s level again, propping his chin up on his hand, smirking down at the younger man, “Plans? You just got back this morning and already have something going on? You must have been quite eager to return home then.”

004 was carefully not looking at him, focused almost entirely on the soldering iron tucked between his fingers, “Lots to do when one has been away for three months. Groceries, unpacking, laundry…” he trailed off. 

“Your plans are to do your laundry?”

“I am very thorough when I do my laundry. Could take a few hours at least. Now, I’m sure you have to rush off for your own errands. Shops closing soon and all that. Enjoy your night, 007,” he said, and even though his hands were still occupied with his task, there was an essence of a waved hand of dismissal in his voice. 

So Bond smirked once more and turned away, “Catch you then,” he said casually and walked off.

As he got onto the empty lift, he let his cool mask fall into a sly grin.

Their little game had begun again.

No matter how eager Bond was for  the next stage of the game to start, there was something to be said about building anticipation. As agents, they all had to be ready at a moment’s notice, but they also had to be patient. Like a coiled snake waiting for the perfect time to strike. 

When it came to this game, Bond was fully capable of taking his time waiting to draw in his target further. Waiting to sink his teeth in…

So he may have taken a bit longer to pick out the perfect champagne than was strictly necessary, while also flirting with the woman at the desk at length. And he may have taken the more scenic route back to his flat. But that was all part of the fun. 

By the time he made it back to his flat, it would all be worth it.

So he parked his Aston and leisurely walked into his building, stopping for a moment to chat with the doorman. The only sign of eagerness that anyone could have possibly noted in him was the glint in his eyes as he got into the lift and hit the button for his floor. 

He knew his security had been disarmed without even checking it, which didn’t bother him in the slightest. He’d gotten quite used to it after all this time. Almost like having the light left on for him at this point. 

He walked into the flat and flicked on the light, eyes shifting quickly to the one thing out of place in his living room. 

“Didn’t you say you had things to do tonight?” Bond greeted the naked form sprawled on his couch.

004 grinned up at him and took a sip of Bond's scotch he’d poured for himself, “Several things.”

“Ah, so I must be laundry, then.”

“If you want to be done thoroughly, yes. Although you certainly took your time getting here. May not have time for that anymore,” 004 said breezily, completely at ease despite being stark naked in front of a fully clothed coworker. While his limbs ran a bit on the slender side, Bond could never bring himself to call the other man vulnerable or fragile. Not when he knew just what kind of strength was hidden beneath the seemingly delicate creature drinking his best scotch. 

“What name are you wearing tonight?” Bond asked as he slowly began to undo the knot in his tie. To anyone else, that would have been a very odd question, but not for 004. The man donned and shed names as easily as one would with a jacket. There was of course a legal name, one provided by the orphanage he had been dumped at as a baby, and the one that his papers at MI6 had him listed as. Of course Bond had hunted down the listed names as soon as his interest in his new coworker arose, and thought he had something to dangle over the head of the younger man. He’d been mistaken though.

“Hmm,” he hummed as he thought it over, “I think I feel like a Simon tonight. Let’s try that on, shall we?”

James smirked, “Simon it is,” he said, the name sliding off his tongue as well as it could. Nothing truly seemed to fit him just right, no matter how many names he wore in front of Bond. Simon was as good as anything else it seemed. 

He’d once thought to use 004’s legal name in private, to catch him off guard, toy with him a bit...but 004 hadn’t even twitched an eyelid. He said that the name held no real meaning for him. It was randomly generated and was no more his name than any of the alias’ that MI6 pinned on him. It made Bond think about old folklore that believed that giving one’s name meant giving another power over you. 004 would have been safe from any spell or curse, because the man truly seemed to have no name at all. Instead he chose to try on new names like hats, only to toss them away a week later like they’d gone out of fashion. 

No one else was able to keep up with the name changes, and eventually gave up, just calling him 004 to save on confusion. Except Bond. He was skilled enough to pick up and shed names like any good agent should. It made no difference to him if 004 did it too. Well, if Simon did it too.

The sliding of silk against wool was heard as James slipped his tie off and tossed it to the floor, soon followed by his jacket and shoes. He’d pick them up later. There was laundry that needed doing, and they’d both waited long enough.

Simon smirked and placed his glass on the table, his eyes roaming over the other man in an appraising manner as James continued to strip in front of him, “You seem to have kept yourself in decent condition in my absence.”

James’ pants were the last thing to fall to the floor before he crawled on top of the other agent, dropping his lips across the smooth panes of that narrow chest. He hummed in agreement, but it broke off when he started to tutt his tongue in displeasure, “I have, but it looks like you were not as clever,” he said, biting just below a painful looking bruise on Simon’s collar bone. 

He felt him shrug casually, “Nothing too bad. Just a brief tussle with my mark before finishing the job. He was just a rather big fellow and got a lucky hit in.”

“Looks like he got several lucky hits in,” James commented, brushing his thumb across the bandage over one green eye. There were more superficial wounds over Simon’s body, but it was hardly the first or last time James would see him bloodied up. He’d made his assessments and 004 would like to fuck and kill another day. 

His partner also seemed done with the trail of thought and was becoming much more active in the proceedings. He’d wrapped his arms around James’ neck and was apparently doing his damndest to check on his tonsils too. 

James ran one hand down his thighs and growled low and deep when he felt Simon’s cock rubbing up against his own, “What happened to 'thoroughly'?”

“You took too long, so don’t complain,” he said and nipped at James’ neck.

Bond chuckled, and nipped the little sprite right back, “You have somewhere else to be?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Simon pulled back and smirked at him, the imp. Bond couldn’t help but acknowledge the thrill and fondness he felt when he saw that playful look in his eyes. He would never tell him though. He’d never risk this game that they had going between them. It was endlessly fun and Bond wasn’t about to let it go. 

He could feel himself growing harder and the urge getting stronger to take this lovely thing under him and ravage him properly. They were hardly picky about where they fucked. They’d already established an impressive range of five star hotel rooms down to a spare stall in the men’s room at work. There was also that time they’d gotten off together in Boothroyd’s office, but that desk had been rather sturdy and could hardly be ranked at the bottom of their list. For whatever reason though, that night Bond didn’t feel like the couch would do for them. 

He wanted to see Simon sprawled back in his sheets, his pale skin contrasting with the deep blue silks. He wanted to hear the bed frame rattle against the walls, and he wanted it now.

He was hauling Simon up over his shoulder without another thought on the matter and walking them down the hall. He felt two hands grab at his ass as Simon laughed at his own manhandling. In quick retaliation, he slapped the arse up by his head soundly, pleased when he heard Simon gasp.

He threw the other man on the bed and wasted no more time crawling on top of him, nipping at all the skin his teeth found along the way. Lovely pale and creamy skin was all lay out for the taking, and Bond would be damned if he let Simon sneak away without some lasting marks of his own. 

“Where did he touch you?” Bond growled as he rutted against Simon’s slim hips. He’d asked this question before, so Simon didn’t ask for clarification of who he was referring to. As specialized agents, they were often called upon to use their bodies in whatever capacity it took to get the mission complete. More often than not, 004 and 007 found themselves in positions where seduction was the smarter method to complete their objectives. Bond was no stranger to any woman’s bed, and 004 was no stranger to anyone’s bed. Bond understood better than anyone what was required of them on missions and knew better than to judge. Didn’t mean he had to like it.

Simon rolled his eyes at Bond, slapping him playfully on the arm, “I was undercover as his little young lover for almost three months. You would save time asking where he didn’t touch.”

Another rumbled growl escaped Bond’s lips, but it was more in challenge than in annoyance. He’d have to make sure that Simon forgot completely about whatever he had to do with his target before offing him. His last touch memory should be of nobody but Bond.

Simon seemed to read his mind and smirked at him,  “Possessive bastard,” he grumbled as he cupped at Bond’s balls and tugged at them, “If you’re so eager to make me forget him, perhaps you should move things along.”

It was one of the best invitations he could hope for, and Bond wasted no more time playing around. With one quick motion he flipped Simon over onto his belly and pushed him down into the mattress.

“Keep your hands where I can see them,” he said as he reached for the side table to pull out their supplies. 

He couldn’t see his face, but he knew Simon was rolling his eyes. 004 had notoriously sticky fingers, and far too many times Bond would look around his bedroom to find small items missing. Ones he knew were present before he’d taken 004 to his room. The items would always appear later back in his flat in a totally new location, so he was hardly bothered by it, but it did grate a little bit to know that 004 was capable of sneaking things by him so easily. 

They had done this together so many times that without even asking Bond knew exactly what Simon wanted that night, and it wasn’t soft and sweet. It was very rarely soft and sweet, but that was beside the point. The point was, if you take two highly trained masters of seduction and pair them together, it was just logical to know that they would be capable of delivering the best fucking imaginable. They both knew that and it was probably one of the main reasons that 004 agreed to this little game of theirs so easily. 

He was clinically efficient as he prepared Simon. Just thorough enough to not cause any harm, and just roughly enough to deliver those sparks of pleasured pain that Simon wanted that night.

Bond had overheard enough comm sessions of 004’s honeypot missions to know what sounds he made for his targets, and which were his own. And as he worked his fingers in and out of Simon, he knew he’d reached the latter as the younger man choked on a gasp and pushed back against Bond. 

“Your fingers are your best weapon, 007,” he said, panting softly.

Bond chuckled and pressed his fingers down, eliciting a cut off scream from his partner as his prostate was assaulted, “Well, I aim to please.”

“Oh, shut up and fuck me already, before I flip us both over and do it myself,” Simon hissed back at him. 

And Bond knew that not only was Simon not kidding, he was well and fully capable of doing that. The very thought of that lithe body overpowering him so easily set off another fresh wave or arousal through his body, but Bond wasn’t about to give up on what he’d been wanting to do since he saw 004 bent over that desk back in Q-Branch.

He pulled his fingers out and slipped on a condom within mere seconds. He didn’t even give Simon another chance to complain before he hauled him up by his hips and lined his cock up. He wasted no more time in pushing in deeply, reveling in the tight heat. 

004 was never one to lay idle, even when pierced on a cock and arse up on a mattress, and he was already rocking his hips back against Bond.

Bond wasn’t one to be outdone either, and met his small hips with rough thrusts of his own. Soon the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, only broken by their own growls and gasps as they chased their pleasure together. 

They both had renowned stamina, but it was hardly necessary to show off in this case. Nothing about them was long term, not even their enthusiastic fucks. Bond worked his cock into 004 with abandon, and made sure to reach around to grab at Simon’s leaking prick to make sure he wasn’t left behind.

It was only a few minutes more before he felt Simon’s body tense up as he came all over Bond’s hand and sheets, wailing in ecstasy as his climax took over his normally perfect control. Bond only managed another dozen or so thrusts before he reached his own peak and he cried out a choked off sound.

It was the bloody name. He always got lost on the name. Whatever one 004 was wearing on each night, it always caught in his throat, like it always did because it never felt natural. It always ended up coming out instead in a deeply satisfied growl, rather than a name gasped in pleasure.

Didn’t really matter though. Not when the afterglow of a good fuck with 004 sunk in. 

Simon was already limp on the mattress under him, catching his breath and letting Bond gather himself together a bit before pulling out. With all the bravado and arrogance fucked out of him, the toll of his latest mission was finally apparent on his youthful features. 

He looked tired and worn, but at least he looked content to lay there under Bond for a while longer. Perhaps he’d even fall asleep and stay?

Ever the gentlemen, Bond got them both cleaned up and settled back into bed, spooning in close with the lovely body next to him. Simon let himself be pulled against Bond’s chest, not even putting up a fight when his lips were caught up in a deep kiss that stole the breath out of him all over again. 

It was getting very late now, not that time mattered much to either agent, but even Bond could feel himself getting pulled into sleep. He had a warm body in his arms, and he knew he was in his own territory, safe. The only thing that made him want to keep his eyes open a bit longer was the nagging sense of dread he’d been trying to ignore for months. 

The one he got when he knew that no matter how long he tried to stay awake, no matter what alarms and sensors he put up, 004 would have snuck out of his flat by the time Bond woke up.

It wasn’t just his pride that was injured in knowing that someone was capable of sneaking out on him, although that’s what he played it off as if 004 ever alluded to his escapes. He truly just wanted to see what would happen if he ended up staying the night. Just once. 

Staying the night meant morning sex. It meant showering together. It meant that Bond would get to see 004’s sleep heavy eyes and lazy smile in the orange glow of the sunrise. It meant getting a chance to see 004’s guard down for once, maybe. If such a thing ever happened. As much as he fed of the thrill the enigma that was 004, he found himself craving those softer moments that would give him insight to this alluring creature. He didn’t know why he cared, after all, this was just a fun game. But strangely enough, he wanted more. Bugger.

Unwilfully, he eventually fell asleep, lulled by the steady breathing of the man next to him. And when he woke, his bed was predictably empty, save for himself. He lay there looking up at the ceiling for a while, thinking much too hard for such an early hour of the day. But mostly he thought about the person he couldn’t help but wish was still there.

James sighed and glanced over at the empty spot beside him.

“Catch you then,” he said to the empty room. The game began anew. 

Chapter Text

It was two days later that Bond got to see 004 again. After disappearing like the morning mist, 004 had made himself scarce, not to be seen by anyone at MI6 as he slipped back into the shadows he seemed to prefer. They had all deduced that he must have had at minimum three separate flats around the city in order to evade them so easily, and so far...Bond hadn’t even found one. 

Jaunting off on his own was hardly out of character for 004, so Bond truly hadn’t been expecting to see him sitting there the morning that he’d been called back to MI6 to meet with M. 

Unfortunately, it wasn’t under the circumstances that Bond would have preferred. While he might have entertained the fantasy of fucking 004 in M’s office on a multitude of occasions, his musings had never included M himself present. 

Said man was sitting at his desk, his eyes slightly accusatory as he glanced back and forth between his two most troublesome, and best, agents. Almost like he knew exactly what Bond was picturing in his head as he assessed the height of the desk against the height of 004’s hips. 

Not that Bond would give anything away. His expression was calm and arrogant, his usual façade that may not have actually been a façade. And 004 was a pro at looking mildly interested in anything from scuff marks on the carpet to a bomb ticking down at his feet. The cut above his eye was masterfully concealed away, probably with make up of some sort, and the bandage was gone from around his wrist. If Bond hadn’t seen him merely a couple days ago, he wouldn’t have known he was injured at all. 

Whatever it was that had summoned the two of them to his office, together no less, obviously must have been a point of consternation for their boss. And not just because the man looked like he had just bitten into a lemon as he handed over two matching folders to the agents in front of him.

“I have a mission for both of you,” he said gruffly as he sat back in his chair and pushed it back further. Almost like he feared a spontaneous detonation just from having the two of them sitting next to each other. 

004 hummed thoughtfully and started to flip through the pages. 

“I thought we were forbidden to work together anymore after what happened in Dubai?” Bond mentioned casually, pulling his own folder open to the first page to glance at the scope. 

004 smirked, “Yes, I believe your words were along the lines of ‘I’d sooner eat my own hand than ever pair the two of you together again’, sir,” he pointedly looked at where M had both his hands clenched over the armrests of his chair. 

There was a brief tick in his jaw before he replied, “As much as I regret to admit it, this mission requires someone of your particular skills paired with someone with Bond’s experience. He is most comfortable and connected to the Mediterranean area, and this may require some outside assistance to be successful.”

“Several criminal organizations, all with suspected ties to Zorin Industries, are in the market for a hacker that has experience with military defense systems. Zorin Industries just recently made an announcement that it will be entering the market for computer chip manufacturing, despite an already highly competitive market being established for decades. Photograph of a Zorin employee taken in the company of Mandya's criminal Family...suspected ties, etcetera, etcetera…” Bond trailed off in a bored tone. There seemed to be many unusual and suspicious things surrounding this Zorin Industries, but there was no evidence of what they were up to or any real crime committed beyond shady associations. It was a rather basic mission, and tasted like something beneath him.

004 cocked a brow as he continued along Bond’s line of thought, “This will require one of us to get hired and gather intel while posing as their pet hacker. And the other to be the go between for any external investigating and function as a handler for said hacker. Seems rather basic, doesn’t it? I know of several junior agents with enough coding skills to pass as decent,” he mused, “Forgive me, M, but does this mission really call for two Double O agents to investigate?” 004 asked. 

That was when M gave himself away by glancing over to his liquor cabinet, and then they knew that there was more going on with that mission than just some shady dealings with a British based company. 

“While this mission does fall under our jurisdiction, I am afraid that politics and money are factoring heavily into the proceedings, so I don’t want this cocked up by a shoddy investigation done by over eager junior agents. It is involving a potential competitor to Silicon Valley, and therefore has drawn much scrutiny from multiple governments. We have a lot of eyes watching us for the outcome of this, and you both better not disappoint me,” M said, staring them both down as if they were his children, “004 is the only one with the skills that could make him a prime hacker for hire, but he will need back up from someone familiar with the criminal world over there, Bond. Also...you both happen to have a decent grasp of the Greek language.”

“And that means the two of us,” 004 said, tongue in cheek. That glint was back in his eyes, the one that filled Bond with excitement and filled M with dread. 

“Don’t make me regret it any more than I already do. One of our local informants has gotten 004 an interview set up for two days from now. Don’t disappoint them. Or myself for that matter,” M said and then waved the two of them off, “Go get your kits from Q-Branch. Moneypenny has your travel papers and tickets at her desk. Good luck, gentlemen.”

The Quartermaster was busy with some other project by the time that they made their way down to Q-Branch and Bond was readying himself for having to wait several hours before the old man’s head came out of that car engine, but 004 seemed to have other plans. 

He didn’t even pause for moment as he walked right past the bustling minions and headed straight for the locked door at the back of the room. The locked door that held all the kits and gadgets for all missions behind it. 

Bond followed behind him closely, curious. He knew that a veritable treasure trove lay behind that door, and he also knew that it was covered in all sorts of anti-agent mechanisms. He’d learned from many repeated attempts to break in himself, but those damn biometrics were a bitch to deal with on the fly. 

004 hardly seemed bothered, and then Bond saw him pull something from his pocket.

“Is that Boothroyd’s key?” he asked casually. 

And 004 bloody winked at him, “Nope. Just a copy I got off the one I swiped from him a few weeks ago.”

Bond couldn’t stop himself from chuckling as he shook his head. 004 truly had some of the stickiest fingers he’d ever come by when it came to taking things that did not belong to him. He could imagine it was an early learned skill that he’d picked up from his life as an orphan, and it was still serving him well today. 

“Having the key certainly helps, but aren’t there three levels of biometrics that require Boothroyd or R to be present for?”

004 sent him a look that almost seemed insulted that Bond would ask such a stupid question. The key went in smoothly and when it clicked it prompted the ocular sensor screen to pop up. Which accepted 004’s eye scan. And fingerprints. And voice. 

Bond still found himself in a sort of amused shock even after 004 let them inside the vault and closed the door behind them. 

“That dirty old man. What position did you have to use to get him to give you access to this room?” Bond asked as he began to explore like a child in a candy store. 

004 smirked over his shoulder as he moved over to the weapons locker first, “No position. He is much too enamoured with his wife I’ll have you know. I borrowed his key and then I hacked my way into the biometric security clearance levels and may have given myself a promotion of sorts. I’ve had access to this room for weeks now.”

If Bond wasn’t in such control of himself, he may have giddily rubbed his hands together before he started to dig through the first cabinet and small gadgets. Boothroyd and his minions had incredible imaginations when it came to the fruits of their labor down here. Cigarettes laced with cyanide. Women’s shoes with daggers in the toe. Homing beacons attached to all sorts of everyday objects. Watches with lasers built in. All of them giving off mad scientist vibes in the best sort of way. 

004 was not as greedy when it came to his tech. He was meticulous and minimalist when it came to his own items. They had to be top quality and they had to be subtle. Just like the man himself, they had a refined appearance and kept their secret dangers hidden well.

But Bond loved all of them. But he knew from experience that too many gadgets would weigh him down and increased the chances of him drawing attention to himself if any of them were found on his person. As much as he regretted doing so, he carefully selected several items and left the others behind with a promise to come back and try them out another time. Perhaps if 004 wasn’t watching him carefully, he may have grabbed a few more, but he would behave himself for now. 

He knew that his past missions to the Mediterranean almost always ended up with him in the water at some point, so he grabbed a pocket breather, an omega watch with a laser, and a few homing beacons the size of a button and stowed them away in his pocket. And perhaps a few different explosives disguised cleverly in small objects. He could never say no to those.

He turned back to see 004 packing away two small kits. One with his preferred Walther and a radio, and the other with 004’s preferred Glock G43X and another radio. There was also a sizable pile of hidden knives being stuffed into a bag, and it brought a smile to his face as he recalled a time that it took him nearly half an hour to undress 004 because he kept finding knives in unexpected places. 

“Any more knives tucked away on you and you’d be well on your way to being a porcupine,” Bond joked as he slid in behind the other agent, pressing his body all along the slender curve of 004’s back. 

“Any more explosives hidden on you and you’d be well on your way to being a pile of dust,” he snarked back, but he hitched his hips back just far enough to indicate that he wasn’t displeased with the manhandling at that moment. He could be as finicky as a cat when it came to affection sometimes. 

Bond didn’t sense that he was about to be swiped at with claws, so he let his hands roam around 004’s middle and pulled him back flush against him as he buried his nose into the short hairs at 004’s slender neck. He smelled a bit of product there masking the natural scent he’d gotten to know and frowned at the artificial aroma overpowered it.

“Why do you use so much of that stuff in your hair? It isn’t even that long save for the stuff on top,” he groused, making 004 chuckle.

“Because much like myself, my hair is a bit on the rebellious side and the only way to control it is to cement it down with product,” 004 said with a laugh. He was loose and relaxed in Bond’s arms as he said it, and it felt like the first time he’d given Bond information about himself willingly. 

Bond looked harder at the shorter lengths of hair at his nape, and then at the controlled waves that sat at the top of his head, just barely framing his face. He grinned, “Curls. You have curls you’re hiding in there. No wonder you never want to shower at my place.”

004 withered him with an unimpressed glare, but there was no heat in his eyes, “Yes, 007. Rebellious curls that do what they want, so if I am to keep my refined appearance as an agent, then I need the product. No matter what your preferences are.” He hadn’t pulled away from Bond yet. He was still comfortable, and it made Bond cheer internally with some unnamed joy. 

“I wish I could see them sometime.”

The words escaped him before he had a chance to think about it. It was such a critical thing for agents to be careful of every damned syllable that fell from their lips, one misstep could become disastrous, and this had just slipped out like leather shoes on an ice patch. Asking for more was not part of their game. But not only had Bond asked for more, he wanted it enough for it to break out past his training. 

004 didn’t tense up in his arms, but there was a long enough pause that he knew that they both were aware of the implications. 

“I’d have to grow my hair out for that, and I don’t plan to do so as long as I am going on missions,” 004 answered diplomatically. He had redrawn the line for them. Not a rejection, but a reminder that as long as they were both agents, this would never become anything more than a fun game they played. It was a masterful answer, save for one thing. It made Bond wonder what would happen if one of them wasn’t an agent anymore. Like what would happen if Bond was forced into retirement?

004 turned in his arms, his face once again carefully neutral as he looked up at Bond. He wiggled his arm loose to grab at something on the desk and held it up for the other agent to see. 

It looked like a high quality fountain pen, but just like 004, Bond didn’t doubt that there was much more hidden inside.

“What’s this?” he asked, taking it from those slender fingers and making sure their skin touched far more than necessary.

“A prototype. Something right up your alley, I imagine,” 004 said.

Bond turned it over in his fingers, admiring the glossy finish and the heavy weight of it in his hands, “Up my alley, is it? So I am to assume that it has a rather exciting boom tucked away in the ink well then?”

004 rolled his eyes and nodded, “Yes, it goes ‘boom’. And it writes as well. Boothroyd always struggled to fit the ink in as well as the chemicals while not compromising the size of the explosion, but looks like there was a way using pressured compaction. Hopefully, anyway. Still a prototype after all.”

“A prototype...Isn’t it’s absence more likely to be noticed sooner?”

He shrugged, “Perhaps, but nobody can really be mad about it since it’s my own project.”

That made Bond pause for a beat, “You hate small explosives,” he replied carefully, willing his body and face to remain indifferent to the implications.

“I do,” he replied simply, and didn’t elaborate further. That was probably for the best. 

James ducked his head, unsure why suddenly he felt equally embarrassed and pleased with what appeared to have all the hallmarks of a thoughtful gift, “Well...look at you branching out into the classics. Maybe Boothroyd should put you in charge when he retires,” he joked to lighten things up again.

It must have worked because 004 snorted and relaxed again in front of him, “As if I’d willingly give up working in the field.” He turned back around to finish packing up their kits and filling the bag they’d share on the way to the airport. 

Once again they both fell back into the easy flow between them. The game would be pushed aside for the most part over this mission, allowing them to be somewhat professional for the next few weeks, but not completely paused. There was no way that Bond would be able to keep his hands to himself when 004 was going to be paired with him, and he was looking forward to the rare treat of seeing the younger man at work. He had not been surprised at all when M had promised to never let them work together again after that whole thing in Dubai, so this was an unexpected treat that he wasn’t about to squander. 

Later though, when they were both tucked in their first class seats and a few hours into their flight to Greece, a nagging sensation started to nibble away at him the further they got from home.

004 was curled up in his chair next to Bond reading, while the other agent nursed a glass of alcohol. The condensation was beginning to soak his fingers and the napkin it rested on, but he was distracted just enough not to care much. Distractions were dangerous, even so early in a mission. But his mind was running through the potential risks and tasks that awaited them once they landed. 

There was no doubt in his mind that 004 was more than up to the task. This role spoke to all of his strengths and there was no one who could play it better than him. Of all the people he’d worked with in the past, 004 was by far the most capable of taking care of himself. It was part of the reason that Bond was drawn to him in the first place.

So why then was Bond worried?

Chapter Text

Bond had the misfortune of being sent to as many ugly corners of the world as he did the beautiful ones. Well, he’d learned that almost every place was beautiful at first in one way or another, but had the misfortune of being marred by whoever was running the place. Those interactions may have left more of a stain on his memory, marring the natural appeal that some place new usually held. 

The Mediterranean was one such place that even after his numerous deadly encounters, the place could not lose its appeal. Greece in particular was always a sight to behold. Something about the white wash buildings and ancient streets always awoke some sort of awe in him. Crystal blue waters, deliciously warm and salty air, all surrounded by marvelous sights. 

It was no wonder the place was a hot spot for criminal gatherings. People were happy to dish out all sorts of money to be in such a beautiful place, and high end criminals usually had obscene amounts of money to spend on themselves. And in this case, they were looking into a syndicate that had sea smuggling as one of their main incomes. Well, didn’t Greece just have plenty of sea ports to do business in.

As far as mission locations went, Bond was hardly about to complain about this one. Especially after seeing 004 changing into a loose linen shirt and khaki shorts. The outfit made him look young, fresh and boyish. There was even less product in his hair than usual, and the short strands moved with the breeze. 

“You’re drooling, Mr. Sterling,” 004 told him with a smirk as they entered their small seaside villa. It was charmingly small, just enough space for a visiting millionaire stock trader and his occasional young “visitor”, but no less stunning than all the surrounding villas along the coast. For the next few weeks this would be home for Bond as he played handler and contact for 004. Or ‘Richard Sterling’ to anyone who looked at the name on the travel documents.  

“Well, it is a lovely little place,” he replied, taking in the surroundings quickly to assure that no prying eyes were around. Satisfied that they were alone, he dropped their bags on the bed and swooped around 004, squeezing him gently around his waist. 

He laughed in Bond’s ear, a light and musical sound that was rarely heard, “I was referring to you staring at my arse, but yes, the villa is quite lovely too. Now, if you would kindly release me then I can set up the radio equipment for tomorrow.”

In Bond’s opinion they had plenty of time to set up and be ready for 004’s meet up the next day, but he knew better than to argue at this point. There was no pulling the younger agent away from his equipment once he’d set his mind to it. Besides, they had a few hours until sunset, and that’s when he really wanted 004’s attention.

He went about unpacking them as 004 fiddled with his set up in the dining room. It was the only room without windows to peek into, so it would have to do as their base of operations for now. If things went to plan, 004 would be hired on the spot and wouldn’t be coming back to the villa afterwards, so it had to be perfect. Because Bond certainly wouldn’t be able to fix any radio cock-up on his own. 

As far as infiltration missions went, this was one of the more straightforward ones. For less experienced agents, that may have put them at ease, but Bond was not so naïve to let himself get too comfortable. Especially not when he was put in the role of handler for 004. The other man could look after himself better than most, but Bond wasn’t about to let himself become lazy just because of that. He wasn’t nervous about sending 004 into cover, but he was cautious. M was right to be cautious with the financial and political risks involved if things went tits up. Would hardly be sporting to let 004 take the blame for all that. 

In the end, it took 004 three hours to set up camp, and by then not only had Bond unpack, but he’d also had time to order some local foods for them for dinner.  

He was more of a red meat man himself, but it would be an absolute waste to come all this way and to not enjoy the local seafood delicacies. And some obscenely expensive wine to pair with it.

Bond took a long sip of said wine, letting the liquid swirl on his tongue before swallowing. His companion sat across the table from him, “So, Simon--”

“Ah ah, from now until this mission is complete I am Nicholas Brown,” he corrected, one finger raised as if scolding Bond. The twinkle in his eye was all that kept Bond from rolling his eyes. 

“Nick then?” Bond tried.

“Nope.”

“Nicky?”

004 stuck out his tongue in distaste, “Never. Puts me in mind of my overbearing mother,” he said sourly, as if recalling some unnamed mother who would swat his wrist when he reached for  cookies. This was one of the tactics that some of the agents employed when going deep undercover. They would build up backstory for all aspects of their alias, to make it feel more real when it came time to blend in. After all, 004 had no mother at all, let alone an overbearing one. This was probably why 004, Nicholas, was so good at what he did. Better than any other agent that Bond could think of. 004 could fully become anyone else as he fancied. Nothing about him was set in stone, he was still fluid. Knowing him was like trying to hold water in his hand. 

Bond wondered if he would ever become solid and still. 

He pushed aside his musings and regarded the younger man, Nicholas, across from him, “Well then, have you decided how you are going to wow your clients at the interview tomorrow?”

So much of this mission was riding on the assumption that 004 would be chosen by the syndicate most likely to be hired by Zorin Industries. Having direct and unbridled access to whatever Zorin Industries was working on was the best way to complete their mission without setting off too many alarm bells. Of course there were other ways to complete this if the interview failed, but neither Bond nor 004 were of a mind to fail at any mission. 

Sitting back in his chair, 004 looked completely at ease, like not a single nerve was alight over the next day's activities. He took a small and measured sip of his wine, never one to let himself become inebriated and unguarded, “No need to worry about that, Bond. I’ve got a tactic in mind that will either get me killed or get me hired on the spot with dental and job security.”

It took effort not to choke on his last bit of food at the admission, but he managed to cover it well enough with another deep sip of wine, “Instant death or pension is it? That sounds about right for today’s job market.”

That earned him a genuine smile from 004, the corners of his eyes crinkling up in mirth. He truly did not look the least bit bothered about the next day. And Bond shouldn’t feel bothered either.

But he was.

He was probably letting himself fall victim to sentiment, a dangerous luxury that agents like them could not afford. Not to mention it wouldn’t do to have 004 be the more professional of the two of them. Bond would just have to play this mission like he would any other, and follow through.

It was a bit of a blessing then that 004 just happened to be across from him looking ravishing in his loose linen and soft locks just starting to curl up at the edges. A perfect distraction if there ever was one. It was a good thing that Bond remembered to pack some essential items that they would no doubt be needing. Just had to lure his companion back to the bedroom...

That night something shifted between them.

And it wasn’t just the sheets. 

It was hardly the first time that Bond and 004 had enjoyed each other while on a mission, but it had been quite a while since M had forbidden them from partnering on missions. Back then the game was still new, when it was still just Bond testing the waters with an intriguing and beautiful enigma, and no unspoken rules had been established yet. Now though, as Bond heaved into the willing body under him, he felt the air grow heavy with more than just heat and passion, but some unnamed emotion tinged with an unforeseen desperation. 

Like he had to somehow had to memorize every press of lips and stroke of skin to be forever cemented in his brain. 

Like he was scared to lose it. 

Bond wasn’t even scared of losing his own life, but he suddenly found himself scared of someone else losing theirs. 

As that thought hit him, his hips slowed down of their own accord and he found himself taking his time and holding onto the moment almost as hard as he held 004’s hips in his hands. If the other man noticed any change, he did not voice it. Instead his whipcord frame relaxed into the more gentle touches as he let Bond change the pace. 

His face remained hidden though, buried against his arm deep enough that Bond almost had to strain to hear his pleasured noises. He knew 004 to be a very reserved man, but not shy. Not seeing his face in that moment was disappointing. Bond wanted to see him come apart, to maybe glimpse something of the true man behind the cracks in his mask. Bond probably would have asked 004 to look at him, but he worried that he was already in deep enough as it was. 

And who knew what 004 and his perceptive eyes would see behind the cracks in Bond’s mask.

He didn’t know how much time had passed when he finally finished, he had been too lost in his own mind and in the other man’s body to notice. But he allowed himself the indulgence of holding the slighter body against himself once he’d fallen to the mattress, and the body did not pull away. 

In fact he didn’t move away for the whole night.

And Bond woke up only to find his wish had been granted, and 004 had stayed. 

It could have just been because there was nowhere to run to while on a mission.

But Bond allowed himself one more indulgence by entertaining the idea that it was for him.

The next morning was spent in an efficient manner, getting Nicholas ready for his interview later that day. Bond tested him on his basic knowledge of names and organizations that he could name if such a thing popped up during an inquiry. Q-branch had set up a resume of sorts to use from past MI6 hacking exploits that 004 could claim as his own...seeing as most of them had his hand in them anyhow. They’d made sure he memorized those down to the last semicolon. 

004 had eventually brushed Bond off when it came to getting dressed though, and the older agent had to sit waiting in the dining room impatiently. They still had plenty of time to make it over to the meet up, but that wasn’t what was bothering him. He had an inkling of what the source of his agitation was, after having spent a whole night holding 004 in his arms for the first time. 

For the first time, he’d gotten to see 004’s sleepy expression as he opened his eyes. He was able to witness the soft skin glowing under the early Grecian sun. And under the sleep dulled compliance, Bond had been able to capture his lips for a deep kiss that brought them both to full awareness for the day. After so long wondering what it would be like to see and have 004 like this...he finally got a taste. 

It was all for the first time, and Bond already knew he was addicted.

And it was something Bond was quite ready to fully acknowledge yet. He was still an active player in their little game, but he was finding himself breaking the unspoken rule of not getting attached. If he wasn’t careful 004 may catch on, if he hadn’t already, and the game might end. 

He shouldn’t care if it happened. But he did. 

At least the mission provided some sort of distraction for now, even if it was making him feel more pressure to see it done right since 004’s safety may rely on his ability to keep it together. Now, if only 004 would come back out of the room so they could finish this up…

His fingers stopped drumming restlessly on the wooden table as 004 finally stepped back into the room after almost an hour, completely transformed once again.

Gone was the suave, self assured and mischievous man that Bond had come to appreciate, and in his place was a slightly nerdy, and reserved looking boy standing in 004’s body. From toes to the tops of his now wayward hair he was a new person. Nicholas. Oddly, Bond wasn’t entirely put off by the look, even with the fashionably offensive cardigan and patterned pants as part of his ensemble. 004 even looked comfortable in the outfit, but that may have just been because he was a true master of disguise. 

“The glasses are a nice touch,” Bond said after giving 004 a full once over.

Nicholas smiled and tapped gently on the rim, “I liked them too. There is a tracking chip and facial recognition sensors embedded inside, but mostly I chose them because people seem to partly grade a hacker’s ability off of their poor eyesight and aversion to contacts. Most of that I’m sure is from the media’s portrayal of us, but these will at least serve some actual purpose…” he trailed off and started to fiddle with the radios on the table again. 

“I’ve set up the tracker to signal to this laptop here, so if you can’t reach me than at least you can come find where I’ve gone off to,” he said, pointing to the various items on the table, “I’ll have the micro earwig on, so you can talk to me and hear the conversation for the interview. But I will remove that afterwards to avoid anyone picking up a new signal if they hire me on. They are well established enough to scan regularly for foreign frequencies. Any communications from there will be limited, but not impossible.”

Bond nodded as he took in the information, storing it away in his brain for later, “Do you have a retrieval code?” he asked. Of course, he wanted to make sure Nicholas had one in case things went wrong. MI6 had their own set of code words or phrases that everyone knew by heart, but between Bond and 004 they usually came up with their own words. Just because they loved the thrill and challenge of trying to fit the increasingly strange words into their undercover work. It was probably juvenile and risky to anyone else, but to them it was just fun. Bond would never forget the time he had to use the words rubber duck to signal 004 to come to his aid on a past mission. He’d been rather proud to manage it with a straight face. 

“Hmm, let’s go with...roses this time,” he said without looking up. 

“Roses? Got romance on the brain do you?” Bond teased, slipping in behind Nicholas and running his hands over the wool of his cardigan. He may have been projecting a bit of himself on the other agent at that moment, but it was an easy connection to be made. 

He only smiled that mysterious smile of his and pulled away, “Romance is hardly my area of expertise. Perhaps I just like the smell?”

As much as Bond wanted to believe that, he knew that when it came to 004 he never let things slip by unintentionally. Nothing was random and nothing was by mistake. He was far too careful with himself. It was a puzzle for Bond to solve, he knew it, but it would have to be tabled for another time. 

They had a mission to complete after all. And it was just about time to go.

Chapter Text

Nicholas knew that he would be a prompt man. Too polite to be late, but just a tad too anxious to arrive early and risk making his interviewers suspicious. Hackers like him were known for being cautious beings, so it should draw no attention there to arrive perfectly on the dot. 

He’d already done some research on the criminal group that he was about to meet with and felt prepared for whatever they would throw at him. They were not known to be horrendously violent, but they also could not claim clean hands by a long shot. They were just high profile enough to draw the likely attention from Zorin Industries, but low profile enough in their dealings to not raise security concerns with their customers. Discretion was their specialty, as well as sea passages apparently. 

Nicholas could be discrete. With skills like his he could waltz into any system of their choosing and sift through every last document and list and waltz right back out without anyone even spying a shadow. Whatever they could assign him would be child's play compared to some of the other places he’d hacked into while he was still an adolescent. He just had to make sure he communicated that without triggering too many alarm bells in their organization. Criminals were justifiably paranoid in that sense after all. The trick would be in how he presented himself. 

Harmlessly ruthless.

A delicate balance to be sure, but it was hardly his first time adopting that semblance. For all he knew, it may not have even been adoption so much as a reveal of his true nature, if such a thing existed. Of all the skins he’d worn, Nicholas actually fell into place easier than most, if not all the other personas. Like a suit made just for him, fitting all his curves and panes and accentuating all his unique assets. But nobody needed to know that. He was Nicholas for the time being. Whether that person rang true to who he often thought he might be was irrelevant. Nicholas would be discarded like the rest at the end of this mission so that he could make room for whoever was going to wear him next. 

As soon as he had exited the taxi he took to the meeting, his persona was in place. He wore it like he would any suit, and made sure to exude nothing more or less than who Nicholas would be. Relaxed shoulders, but tightened jaw. Reserved expression, but not unkind. Tapping fingers. A telltale sign of one who spent a little too much time pressing keys. The crossbody bag that bumped against his hip moved with his steps, like he had lived with that bag swinging at his side for years. 

For a brief and yet wholly unprofessional moment, he wondered what Bond would think of Nicholas. Would he find the finger tick distracting, or the more posh accent offputting? The cardigans and glasses not as flattering as the bespoke suits he was often required to wear? Would the conversations peppered with techno babble sour their rapport? 

It hardly mattered what 007 thought about this persona or not though. Although Nicholas took some secret comfort in knowing that out of all the skins he’d worn for Bond before, he had never turned a single one of them away. The senior agent was a puzzle for sure, one that Nicholas had been endlessly intrigued and confused by. He was like an Armani branded rubik's cube. Delightfully entertaining and felt familiar in his hands.

It was all irrelevant however. Any reservations that 004 had about Nicholas and 007’s opinions on the man played no part in how the mission would play out. Like always, he would focus on the task at hand and leave all personal items back in London to be ignored promptly upon his return. 

The location of the meet up was in a back room of a local bar. The bar itself had been occasionally linked to criminal organizations, but nothing concrete enough to nail down by authorities. At least once money had no doubt played a part in a lot of those claims being ignored. 

It was still only late in the morning, hardly a time for most people to even think of going into a bar, but Nicholas was hardly put off by the timing. If anything it may have been a comfort. Gunshots were far more noticeable during daylight hours, and he knew from experience that dealing with bodies when it was light out was no easy task either. It was a good indication that if the interview went too far south, at least they weren’t planning for the immediate possibility of having to murder Nicholas right then and there. 

Not that most job interviews needed to be life and death scenarios, even in this line of work. But in order to get the attention of his potential employers, he couldn’t just hand over his resume and then wait with fingers crossed for a reply, like any other poor sod applying to a corporate position. No. Nicholas was a cautious being, but he wasn’t any wallflower either. 

Although 007 wasn’t making any real noise in his ear, Nicholas still felt his presence viscerally in the comms, as if the man was looming over his shoulder. The seamless adhesive patch façade of the comm blended flawlessly with his skin, making it look as if nothing was in his ear at all. The old earwig design was far too outdated and easily detectable for this day and age. Thanks to movies and less stealthy agents of the past, all of the criminal world would be looking for a plastic knob sticking out of their ears now. This, at least, Nicholas wasn’t worried about being spotted. 

It was a bit surprising though that 007 was staying quiet on his end. While the mission had technically begun, they were still in an easy enough stage that he would have thought Bond would gladly take the opportunity to try out some of their old games. Flirting. Obscene noises. Perhaps even the occasional poem just to mix things up a bit. For whatever reason, Bond seemed to be ever the professional today. Almost a shame. 004 did love their little games. 

The first sign of Bond even being there at all came just moments before Nicholas entered the bar.

“Three men inside, all armed. They don’t seem overly suspicious or tense just yet, but we don’t have interior audio to know for sure.”

Nicholas was well aware that Bond was limited to just the security camera inside, given that he’d hacked into it the day before. Audio was not something he could install remotely though, and he wasn’t about to chance a break in right before his interview that would set the organization on high alert. Still, it was good to at least be aware that he’d be facing three guns in a shootout if he fucked this up.

He cleared his throat once to acknowledge the information and then stepped inside.

Right away he could see the three men that Bond had mentioned, mostly because they looked the stereotypical mafioso grunt type. And because the rest of the bar was empty save for one poor barkeep who was clearly nursing a hangover while trying wipe down stools. 

Nicholas kept his head held high, but his gaze respectfully low as he approached them. Nodding succinctly to each of them when it was clear that none of them were about to reach out to shake his hand.

“Good morning, I was referred to you gentlemen by Luca I believe.” He kept his Greek basic and British accented. Like he’d studied it in school, but not quite learned the modern local speech. 

The one in the middle with a spectacular handlebar mustache nodded, not looking overly impressed by whatever he read from Nicholas, “Luca, yes. We are very busy so let’s make this quick and get to the point. First off, are you aware just who you would be working for?”

Nicholas nodded, tapping his fingers rhythmically on the bag he had swung into his lap, “Yes, I’d be working for the Family, with complete discretion on pain of...well lots of pain I’m sure.”

The man on the right smirked, probably thinking about how right Nicholas was in that statement. Mustache didn’t seem so amused though, the threats fell from his tongue like some HR administrator explaining benefits to their new hire.

“Any work you would do for the Family will be kept within the Family. If you go off an open your mouth anywhere else, you can kiss your tongue goodbye. That goes for this little meeting as well, even if you don’t get the job. Understood?”

“Perfectly,” Nicholas replied quickly.

“They’ll be watching you after this meeting ends then. May be best to go find a hotel rather than risk sneaking back to the villa.”

Nicholas had already assumed as much and didn’t bother to try and acknowledge Bond’s advice. 

“So tell me why a little preppy looking thing like you is looking for a job with people like us?”

Nicholas was careful to keep his face relaxed, with only a hint of boredom in the heavy way he held his jaw, “Because I am very skilled in what I do, and it would be a waste not to use it to it’s full potential. Because I like money, and I don’t like to be bored. And because it was this or living my life creating advertisement algorithms for google or bloody facebook.”

“And you’ve worked on our side of the road before?”

“You don’t get skills like mine by behaving on the internet,” Nicholas replied with a bit of an edge behind his accent, “And I certainly don’t get ties to people like Luca by showing him my spotless transcripts.” 

Now that his threats had been spoken aloud and he seemed satisfied with Nicholas not being some thrill seeking newbie, Moustache sat back in his chair, his bulging belly hitting the edge of the table between them, “Luca said that you could get into any system like it was made of wet cardboard.”

Nicholas didn’t twitch or blink, “Or wet tissue paper depending on which system we are speaking of.”

“Careful, 004. Don’t get too cocky,” Bond warned, but he needn’t have bothered. Nicholas knew what he was doing. 

Mustache grunted, not overly impressed, but not put off yet either. He smoothed his hands over the large black bushy thing over his lips, staring down at Nicholas like he was a mere child, “You have big balls for such a tiny thing. I have to wonder if they are bigger than your brains though. You could be all talk, and we need someone who actually can do everything they say they can.”

Nicholas had known a question like this was coming, and he had several different plans in place to address it once he’d gotten a read on his “interviewer”. They hadn’t spoken long, but he’d met so many men like Moustache in the past, and could guess at what he wanted in their hacker.

By appearances alone, Nicholas was not at all what this man wanted. He was small, rather nerdy, and far too fresh looking to fit in seamlessly with the criminal world. Mustache would have liked to see more muscle and grit, given that he was more well versed in violence than the cyberworld. Even though it was rather the opposite of what most hackers appeared as. In order to get Mustache to want him...he needed to do something memorable. And threatening. 

Ah, needs must. 

“Would you say that your organization’s current systems are formidable? Secure?” he asked casually, tilting his head to the side curiously.

Moustache seemed surprised by the question, and glanced between his two companions before setting his narrowed eyes back on Nicholas, “Our systems are impenetrable,” he said confidently.

Nicholas had to refrain from rolling is eyes. They always thought their systems were the best, no matter what criminal group he came across. Amateurs. All of them. Carefully, he cleared his throat, “Impenetrable, you say? Then I must ask what on earth makes you think you need me?”

“We aren’t looking to break into our own systems, boy. We are looking for someone to break into someone else’s,” one could practically taste the arrogance on his breath. 

Finally, Nicholas allowed himself to smirk, “If you have such impressive firewalls and security in place, then no doubt you must already have someone quite clever enough to have built all that for you. Clever enough to easily break through someone else’s firewalls. So again, why do you need me?”

The three men were looking at each other confused, not quite sure where they had lost control of the questioning. Nicholas could imagine he could see 007 grinning like a feral cat listening to this back at the villa. Taking control of a conversation was what he and 007 had mastered. And this time didn’t even require a quick shag to start. Merciful heavens really, in this case. 

But just taking control wouldn’t impress these men and get him the job. More than likely it would just piss them off and he’d either be killed or be sent on his way. Not that they would succeed in killing him, but that was beside the point. He’d still not have the job. 

No, he had to try something different. And perhaps some would call it reckless. Hell, even Nicholas thought it was reckless, but again...needs must.

“The answer is that you don’t have someone capable enough for either task and the fact that none of you are knowledgeable enough to know that means that you are not qualified to pick and choose between hackers with anything more than best guesses and fingers crossed. Correct?”

Their faces were turning red. 007 was probably not smiling any more. 

“And the fact that the Boss sent you three to do this means that he is also un-knowledgeable in these matters?”

“004, what are you doing? You’re waving a red flag in front of three bulls!” he could hear 007’s annoyed voice in his ear, almost bordering on anger. An odd reaction, given this was far from the most reckless thing they had done in missions together in the past, but that was something to ponder over later.

Perhaps, but like bulls I’ve not got their attention somehow, Nicholas thought to himself as he pulled out his laptop and placed it on the table between all of them. He flipped open the lid and swiveled it around for the men to see, “Does any of this look familiar?” he asked innocently. 

They all peered down squinting at the screen.

“Those are…shipping routes and manifests,” one of them said, sounding a bit unsure. 

Nicholas nodded, “Indeed, very good. More specifically, these are your shipping routes and manifests. I pulled them from your systems last night before bed. Frightfully easy.”

Three guns were drawn and pointed at his face in a mere second, but the only reaction that Nicholas had was to blink at them slowly, “Perhaps I should explain myself. 

“Yes, you better fucking do that,” 007 was clearly displeased still. 

“I have not done anything with your data beyond prove that I can access it remotely and without anyone knowing about it. A bit of a practical exam before the big interview. Like you pointed out, I could be all balls and no brains when it came to hacking. And now you know that I am blessed with large specimens of both,” he said, glancing up past the loaded weapons and up at the men, raising a single brow in challenge, “And while you and the Boss may not know exactly what you need for these kinds of jobs, I believe this was enough of a demonstration to prove I am capable. Don’t you?” 

Nicholas left the bar with no additional holes in his body, a new employer, and one well deserved smirk on his lips. He would be allowed the night to get his affairs in order before reporting to his new base of operations in the morning. 

Just enough time to get a room at the hotel nearby and take a well earned and utterly pampered bath. Shame 007 couldn’t join him. Perhaps after the mission was completed he'd offer.

For now he was fine to relax his shoulders just a bit. He knew he was being followed by one of the grunts from the bar, but they were following behind him and couldn’t see his face and they were too far away to hear him either. Their systems were mediocre at best, and he already determined that they only security feeds they had were the ones in the bar and outside of their Boss’ base. They could only follow Nicholas if they wanted to keep an eye on him. 

“That was stupid of you.”

007 still sounded rather ticked off.

“Oh come now, 007. We never do anything stupid in our line of work. Reckless however…”

“Call it whatever you damn well want, they could have shot you for mouthing off like that.”

Nicholas sighed, “It got me the job, and since when do you care how I handle my missions?”

There was a pause over the line, “Just try not to get yourself killed before we conclude our mission. Can’t have you fucking up my close rate because you are too busy trying to play with people.”

“Don’t worry, 007. I’ve got it all under control. I’ll have to cut comms after tonight. Any further transmissions will be through less obvious means,” they already knew they couldn’t risk a much more thorough welcoming frisk the next day when Nicholas reported for duty. He’d have to get creative from here on out. 

“Fine, just...take care of yourself. I’ll be here if you need me.”

Nicholas grinned, although he didn’t quite know why, “I’ll catch you then,” he shot back, using the words that he’d heard 007 favored for when they parted. Just saying it made him relax even further. 

The line went silent, so Nicholas made his way back to the hotel with a slight bounce in his step. He’d just gotten a new job after all.