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fredbassettTitle : Tethered, Part 3
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Alex Rider
Rating : 15
Characters : Alex/Yassen, Tom
Disclaimer : Not mine, no money made, don’t sue.
Spoilers : None
Summary : Alex turns 18 and Tom has fixed views on what should happen next in his friend’s life.
“Alex, mate, it’s your 18th birthday! You’re not spending it watching crappy old telly!”
“You like Blake’s 7!”
“Yes, but the sets are as wobbly as your housemate’s morals.” Tom rolled his eyes. “The pair of you are fixating on Space Commander Travis, aren’t you? Jeez, you two need to get a bloody life!”
Yassen made a rude sign as Alex choked on a mouthful of coke.
“Fucking hell, Tom!” he spluttered. “Has someone nicked your tact?”
“Never had any,” Tom said smugly. “Tell him, Yassen, he needs to get out and get laid.”
“Tell him yourself.”
“I just did.”
**
“I don’t want to go to a club. Or a pub. Or anywhere. I want to slob out, watch the season one finale and eat pizza.”
“Yassen…”
“Leave me out of this,” Alex’s dead ex-assassin housemate said, wisely ignoring the argument that Alex had been having with Tom nearly every day for a week, ever since the idea of a surprise party had been quashed with extreme prejudice.
Tom stood up. “I’ll leave you to it, shall I?”
“I can’t eat four pizzas by myself.”
Tom grinned. “You want me to stay?”
“Course I want you to stay, you twat!”
**
By episode five of season two, Alex was yelling at Avon that his chances of surviving alone against the Federation were probably no better than the odds of surviving MI6 without proper backup.
Then Tom fell asleep.
Alex thought about just chucking a blanket over the snoring mass and leaving him on the sofa but friendship prevailed and he hauled Tom up the stairs and bundled him into bed.
Yassen settled down on the beanbag in Alex’s room as he usually did when Tom stayed over, even though he could just have used Jack’s room.
.
They had their habits.
**
Alex had spent his birthday with two of the three people he cared about most.
He was happy, he really was.
But what did it say about him that one of his three closest friends was dead?
In the past four years, Yassen Gregorovich had saved Alex’s life numerous times. And every single one was engraved on Alex’s memory.
Together they made a formidable team.
Even when Alex’s mission reports frequently strayed far into creative writing territory, Mrs Jones knew better than to ask inconvenient questions and don’t ask, don’t tell became the official mantra.
That was fine by Alex.
**
In the pleasant darkness of his bedroom, Alex snuggled under the quilt, relaxed and comfortable, but not drunk.
“Yassen?”
“Yes?”
“Now I’m an adult, are you going to stop calling me little Alex?”
Silence greeted his words. Yassen had taught him not to rush to fill a silence, so Alex just waited.
“Probably not.”
“You can be really irritating, you do know that, don’t you?”
“So I’ve been told.”
Alex sighed. He was tired, horny and not going to get laid.
He couldn’t even have a wank without it being obvious.
But it had still been a really nice birthday.
**
“I met this really nice girl today…”
“Fuck off, mate. I’m so not interested.”
“In her in particular or in girls in general?”
“Is that meant to be a tactful way of asking if I’m gay?”
“I thought we’d already established I don’t have any tact?”
“We have.”
“OK, I met this really nice guy today…”
“I won’t fight you for him.”
“Gee, thanks. Why not?”
“Because I fancy the dead assassin who killed my uncle.” There, he’d said it.
Tom promptly spat a mouthful of coffee over the table in the café.
Alex passed him a handful of napkins.
**
“So what’re you going to do about it?” Tom asked, when he’d finally stopped gasping for breath.
“What the fuck can I do? He’s dead, Tom.”
“Yeah, I had noticed. So you’ve been pining over him for what, like four years?”
“No!” Alex resisted the urge to bang his head on the table. “Yes. Teenage hormones, remember?”
Tom grinned. “So I really did get laid before you?”
“Yes. Happy now?”
The grin widened. “Nah. Always knew you were a loser. I won’t rub it in.”
“Like hell you won’t. Can’t you just forget I said it?”
“Unlikely.”
“Not helping, mate.”
**
To Alex’s surprise, it did help. Keeping something like that from his best friend hadn’t been easy.
They quickly progressed from coffee to beer then when that ran out, they moved onto wine.
By the time Yassen arrived back from his weekly gossip session with Smithers, the pair of them were pleasantly drunk, sprawled out on the sofa with Alex’s feet resting on Tom’s stomach as they argued over the merits of the musical episode of Buffy.
Predictably, Tom loved it.
Equally predictably, Alex hated it.
Yassen refused to exercise a casting vote and retired upstairs to read a book.
**
Alex changed into pyjama bottoms in the bathroom and slid under the quilt.
“Night, Yassen.”
“Goodnight, Alex.” A heartbeat later, “Would you prefer me to rest in the other bedroom?”
“No. You always sleep here when Tom stays over.” And he always enjoyed waking up in the night and seeing Yassen, peaceful and relaxed in a loose-limbed sprawl on the beanbag.
Alex pulled the duvet up and turned out the light.
An hour later, he was still awake, his cock was hard, and his hands were nowhere near it.
Two hours later his control broke and he started touching himself.
**
He kept his movements slow and careful, lying on his side, facing into the room, his eyes on Yassen’s face, pale, insubstantial and painfully attractive bathed in the soft glow from London’s ever present light pollution.
Alex’s breath caught in his throat as he slicked his palm with the moisture beading at the tip of his cock.
Every slow stroke sent sharp pleasure dancing over his skin.
He wanted this to last but he knew it wouldn’t.
He’d waited too long for this.
He gasped as he came and Yassen’s eyes flew open.
Then, without a word, he promptly disappeared.
**
Alex sat bolt upright, his hand sticky and his cheeks hot.
“Yassen, I’m sorry!”
Silence.
The house felt empty, the way it had done when he’d believed Jack was dead,
“Yassen!”
Alex stumbled out of bed, wiping his hand on his pyjamas.
He checked every room. Each one was as empty as the next, apart from the one where Tom was snoring comfortably and drooling on the pillow.
One wank. One stupid, self-indulgent wank and he’d ruined everything.
“Yassen!”
The emptiness intensified, suffocating him until breathing became hard.
Alex wanted to wind back time.
But the world kept on turning.
**
A week later, Alex was given his next assignment.
Infiltrating a gang of blackmailers targeting diplomatic staff.
Alex fucking hated honey trap missions.
His job was to get enough intel to take them down.
His aim was to not get fucked.
Without Yassen’s help it was almost certainly all going to go spectacularly wrong.
Alex hadn’t worked a job solo for four years and it showed.
He was compromised in two days.
His breakout relied on luck.
Which promptly ran out.
The bullet punched straight through the scar on his chest.
Alex’s final thought was how much it fucking hurt.
**
The only witnesses were a pair of rats more interested in a discarded bag of cold chips.
The only living witnesses.
The dead crowded around him.
His mother stroked his hair back from his eyes.
His father looked like he wanted to solve all the world’s problems with a swift burst of uncontrollable violence.
Ian stood behind them, a stricken expression on his face.
Yassen just looked sick and guilty.
“Go back,” his mother implored. “Fight, darling, help’s on the way.”
Alex shook his head. He’d had no help since Yassen had left him.
And he didn’t care any more.
**
“Alex, you have a life to live.” Yassen’s voice was low, insistent. “Do not give up.”
“Why did you leave me?” The pain was receding and Alex could think clearly again.
“Because you should have a normal life, and I cannot be part of that. I’m dead, Alex. And you are alive.”
“Not for much longer.” Alex smiled. “Mum, dad. Nice to meet you.”
“Alex…”
He could see tears welling in his mother’s eyes as she held his hand and stroked his hair.
His father knelt beside her and touched his shoulder.
Yassen looked down at him, his expression unreadable.
**
“Come back with me.” Alex didn’t bother to disguise the entreaty in his voice. “I need you, Yassen.”
Yassen shook his head.
Alex sat up, twisting around to look at his body, red blood spreadng from the wound in his chest. He shrugged. “You stay, I stay. I won’t miss MI6.”
His mother looked up at Yassen, tears spilling down her cheeks. “It’s too soon.”
“Go with him.” This wasn’t John Rider, concerned parent, speaking. This was Hunter, Scorpia’s finest. When he gave an order, he expected to be obeyed. “Look after him, Yassen.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking.”
**
“I’m not asking, I’m telling.”
“Hunter… John…”
“He’s an adult, Yassen. He makes his own choices.”
Alex clambered to his feet, standing in his own dying body. “Stop talking like I’m not here.”
The sound of sirens broke into Alex’s thoughts and suddenly paramedics surrounded his body, all friendly voices and concerned efficiency.
He tried to step away from his body but was stopped by Yassen’s hand on his shoulder. “Alex, go back to Tom, go back to your life. It’s too soon for you to think about leaving it.”
“Then come with me.”
A fresh voice: “We’re losing him!”
**
“Cossack!” Alex heard the sharp whipcrack of command in his father’s voice.
Yassen shook his head. “No, John. He deserves more.”
“He doesn’t deserve death!”
“I told you, stop talking like I’m not here. I’m not a kid. I can die if I want to. And by the way, this is really fucking surreal.”
“More surreal than living with a ghost?” Yassen’s lip’s quirked into a familiar half smile.
“Dead housemate versus dying me, two dead parents and a dead uncle? Yeah, way more surreal than having you hanging around.”
A fresh voice broke in: “Stand clear!” A pause. “Shocking!”
**
“Still no output. Resume CPR.” The voice sounded resigned.
Alex looked down at his body now lying in a hospital bed, covered by a sheet and hooked up to various machines, one of which was showing a very flat line.
He didn’t need endless episodes of Casualty with Jack to know what that meant.
In a way, it was a relief. No more jobs for MI6. No more having to justify the inevitable deaths.
He was just pleased he wasn’t surrounded by vengeful ghosts and spectral jellyfish.
No more movie nights with Tom.
No more crappy TV shows with Yassen.
**
Staring at his dead body surrounded by medical staff all doing their best to bring him back, Alex wanted to tell them not to bother.
He was happy to stay here… wherever here was.
His parents stepped back, hands joined, faces sad.
He looked at Yassen. There was sadness there, too. And something else… something Alex didn’t understand… something that might almost have been hope.
Alex smiled. “Cheer up, it might never happen.”
“It already has.” Yassen slipped his arms around Alex’s waist and kissed him lightly on the lips.
Ignoring the presence of his parents, Alex kissed him back.
**
“Prepare for shock.” The doctor was certain they were wasting their time, but she had to keep trying. Just once more.
Loosing the young ones was always hard.
She knew nothing about the patient, but his scars told their own story.
He’d died twice in the ambulance and again in the operating theatre but somehow, they kept dragging him back. For a while she’d thought they were keeping him, but now she was just going through the motions.
“Stand clear… shocking!”
His chest jumped violently, but still no output.
“I’m calling it.” She looked at her watch. “Time of death…”
**
Yassen’s lips were soft, almost hesitant.
Alex shivered, feeling suddenly cold and weak. He held Yassen tightly and kissed him back. He’d waited so long for this and didn’t want the moment to end but, all too soon, Yassen stepped back.
“Go back. If you do, I shall follow you.”
Alex’s eyes widened. “Promise? And you won’t disappear again?”
“I promise.”
“On both counts?”
“Suspicious brat. Yes, on both counts. Now go.”
John and Helen Rider, the parents he had never known, were both smiling.
So was Ian.
He smiled back, gripped Yassen’s hand and stepped into his dead body.
**
“Output! We’ve got an output! The nurse sounded as amazed as the doctor felt.
The young man’s heartbeat was erratic but getting stronger.
She looked down at him, smiling. Getting this one back was totally unexpected.
She reached out and lightly touched the back of his hand.
A sudden shiver ran through her and despite the warmth of the operating theatre, she felt deathly cold.
She stepped back and the warmth returned.
Smiling, she looked around. “Look after him,” she murmured.
“Course we will,” one of the nurses said.
Alex’s eyelashes fluttered and his fingers tightened on an unseen hand.
**
“So why did you leave him?” Tom stared accusingly across Alex’s still form, holding his friend’s hand.
“He deserves more than I can give him.”
“Yeah, maybe, but that’s not the point, is it?”
The expression on Yassen’s face was as close to rueful as Tom had ever seen on the dead contract killer’s face. “Apparently not.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“I’m open to suggestions.”
“Not sure I’m qualified to give dating advice to dead assassins.”
“Try.”
“Watch Line of Duty with him. That’ll give you time to figure something out.”
Yassen smiled. He could do that.
**
When Alex woke up, the first thing he noticed was that one hand was warm while the other was cold.
“You OK, mate?” Tom’s fingers tightened on his and the tone belied the casual words.
“Peachy.”
“Go back to sleep.”
Alex smiled and, for once in his life, did exactly as he’d been told.
Waking up for a second time was less disorientating. He remembered his own name, what had gone wrong on his mission and…
“Did I kiss you in front of my parents?”
“Sorry, not guilty,” Tom said smugly.
Yassen looked managed to look both insubstantial and shifty.
**
“Did I really see my parents?”
Before Yassen could answer, Tom threw his hands up. “Don’t say anything! We need to be scientific about this.” He pulled a notebook out of the old school satchel he claimed was sexily retro and handed it to Alex. “Write it down.”
Yassen looked amused. “I haven’t yet managed to use a pen.”
Tom waved to the small bathroom. “I’ll turn the hot taps on, and you can write in the steam on the mirror.”
Five minutes later, Tom took a photo of Yassen’s neat handwriting as evidence and prepared to deliver his verdict.
**
Handing his phone to Alex, he said, “Your accounts are identical. The jury concludes that you did indeed kiss him in front of your parents.”
Alex looked part mortified part elated. “I wish I’d known them properly.”
Yassen stroked his hand lightly. “I think they would prefer you not to rush into that.”
“Yeah, I got that impression.” Alex felt tired and sad. “You could have stayed.”
Yassen nodded. “I could have done, but I chose not to.”
“Because of me.” It was a statement, not a question.
“Yes.”
“Because you felt guilty?”
“Because I wanted to be with you.”
**
Feeling surprisingly self-conscious, Alex walked out of the en-suite in his room wearing nothing more than a damp towel and a self-conscious expression.
The bedroom lights were off, and the room was bathed in London’s usual warm glow.
Yassen was sitting on the edge of Alex’s bed looking uncharacteristically unsure of himself.
Alex stepped up to him and let the towel fall to the floor.
Cool air prickled on his skin, raising goosebumps.
“Can ghosts undress?” Alex asked, to cover his nervousness.
A heartbeat later he was staring at Yassen Gregorovich’s insubstantial, unfairly attractive naked body.
“So it would seem.”
**
“You’ve been practising.”
“Of course.”
Yassen ran his hand lightly over Alex’s already hard cock. The caress felt like cool silk on his over-sensitive skin.
Alex’s breath caught in his throat. “Fucking hell, Yassen. Do that again.”
Yassen’s lips quirked upwards. “I wish I could give you more, Alex.”
“I’ll take what I can get.”
The silken caress enveloped him as Alex sprawled out on the bed.
Thought gave way to feeling as he lost himself in a world of sensation.
Feather-light touches, soft words murmured with intoxicating intensity.
Everything he’d ever dreamed of and more than he’d ever expected.
**
“You got laid last night, didn’t you?” Tom practically squealed.
“Say it again louder,” Alex muttered. “I think the three teenage girls with headphones in missed the announcement.”
The rest of the café certainly bloody hadn’t.
Tom lowered his voice to a stage whisper. “So how did you… you know… manage it?”
“I am not discussing my sex life with you.”
“Come on, we’ve never had secrets before, bro. Does lovely the Mrs Palm know you’re cheating on her?”
The elderly woman on the next table shot Alex a sympathetic glance coupled with an amused twinkle in her sharp eyes.
**
“Would you mind stabbing me through the heart with this fork?” Alex asked her, politely.
“He doesn’t mean it,” Tom assured her, snatching the fork out of Alex’s hand.
“I think he does, dear.”
“Listen to the nice lady, Tom.”
Tom rolled his eyes but did at least lower his voice. “Was it good?”
Alex sighed, knowing there was no escape. “Yes. Bloody fantastic.”
“So the whole… you know… dead thing… wasn’t a problem?”
“No, it wasn’t. And that’s all the bloody detail you’re getting.”
“You get laid by your spectral boyfriend and won’t give me the details? Harsh, Rider.”
**
“Did his chains rattle when he…?”
“Harris!” Alex brandished the fork threateningly.
“Just taking an interest, mate. So, how far have you got with Line of Duty?”
“Halfway through season two. Why?” The abrupt change of subject was in danger of giving Alex mental whiplash.
“Just wondering how long it took you to figure things out before you got to fourth base.”
Remembering several long nights of featherlight caresses interspersed with some difficult and emotional conversations, Alex blushed hotly.
“You suggested that to him?”
“Well, he was never going to agree to a Fifty Shades of Shite marathon, was he?”
**
Alex plonked a slab of salted caramel brownie and cream in front of Tom in the vain hope that his friend would shut up.
Tom scoffed it with indecent haste and then went back to tormenting him. “Does this mean pizza night’s off?”
“No, why should it?” Yassen was quite capable of fending for himself where Tom was concerned.
“Thought you lovebirds might want some space…”
“We like having you round. It feels… normal,” Alex admitted.
Tom grinned brightly. “I’ll bring the beer.”
“Just don’t bring Fifty Shades.”
“No point in looking for bondage tips if your boyfriend’s a…”
“Harris!”
**
“I’m beginning to think Dr Three’s tender ministrations would be preferable,” Yassen murmured as his fingertips ignited sparks low in Alex’s belly.
“He didn’t ask you if your chains rattle when you come, did he?”
Yassen’s eyes widened. “No.”
“You’re lucky. I don’t think I’ll ever dare set foot in that coffee shop again.”
“Then we’ll have to find another one.”
“We?”
“We,” Yassen said firmly. “If you have earbuds in, who will know you’re not talking to someone on your mobile?”
Alex smiled. He would like that a lot.
Then a starburst of pleasure took him beyond conscious thought.
**
Yeah, having a dead boyfriend was a bit weird, Alex would be the first to admit that, just not to MI6’s shrinks or to Mrs Jones.
There were still times when he needed a solid hug, but Tom was always ready to oblige on those occasions.
For everything else, he had Yassen.
And everything else was way, way better than he’d ever imagined it could be.
He made his peace with the past and learned to live in the present without regret.
They still binge-watched crappy TV shows and Yassen still drew the line at Friends.
Some things never changed.
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Alex Rider
Rating : 15
Characters : Alex/Yassen, Tom
Disclaimer : Not mine, no money made, don’t sue.
Spoilers : None
Summary : Alex turns 18 and Tom has fixed views on what should happen next in his friend’s life.
“Alex, mate, it’s your 18th birthday! You’re not spending it watching crappy old telly!”
“You like Blake’s 7!”
“Yes, but the sets are as wobbly as your housemate’s morals.” Tom rolled his eyes. “The pair of you are fixating on Space Commander Travis, aren’t you? Jeez, you two need to get a bloody life!”
Yassen made a rude sign as Alex choked on a mouthful of coke.
“Fucking hell, Tom!” he spluttered. “Has someone nicked your tact?”
“Never had any,” Tom said smugly. “Tell him, Yassen, he needs to get out and get laid.”
“Tell him yourself.”
“I just did.”
**
“I don’t want to go to a club. Or a pub. Or anywhere. I want to slob out, watch the season one finale and eat pizza.”
“Yassen…”
“Leave me out of this,” Alex’s dead ex-assassin housemate said, wisely ignoring the argument that Alex had been having with Tom nearly every day for a week, ever since the idea of a surprise party had been quashed with extreme prejudice.
Tom stood up. “I’ll leave you to it, shall I?”
“I can’t eat four pizzas by myself.”
Tom grinned. “You want me to stay?”
“Course I want you to stay, you twat!”
**
By episode five of season two, Alex was yelling at Avon that his chances of surviving alone against the Federation were probably no better than the odds of surviving MI6 without proper backup.
Then Tom fell asleep.
Alex thought about just chucking a blanket over the snoring mass and leaving him on the sofa but friendship prevailed and he hauled Tom up the stairs and bundled him into bed.
Yassen settled down on the beanbag in Alex’s room as he usually did when Tom stayed over, even though he could just have used Jack’s room.
.
They had their habits.
**
Alex had spent his birthday with two of the three people he cared about most.
He was happy, he really was.
But what did it say about him that one of his three closest friends was dead?
In the past four years, Yassen Gregorovich had saved Alex’s life numerous times. And every single one was engraved on Alex’s memory.
Together they made a formidable team.
Even when Alex’s mission reports frequently strayed far into creative writing territory, Mrs Jones knew better than to ask inconvenient questions and don’t ask, don’t tell became the official mantra.
That was fine by Alex.
**
In the pleasant darkness of his bedroom, Alex snuggled under the quilt, relaxed and comfortable, but not drunk.
“Yassen?”
“Yes?”
“Now I’m an adult, are you going to stop calling me little Alex?”
Silence greeted his words. Yassen had taught him not to rush to fill a silence, so Alex just waited.
“Probably not.”
“You can be really irritating, you do know that, don’t you?”
“So I’ve been told.”
Alex sighed. He was tired, horny and not going to get laid.
He couldn’t even have a wank without it being obvious.
But it had still been a really nice birthday.
**
“I met this really nice girl today…”
“Fuck off, mate. I’m so not interested.”
“In her in particular or in girls in general?”
“Is that meant to be a tactful way of asking if I’m gay?”
“I thought we’d already established I don’t have any tact?”
“We have.”
“OK, I met this really nice guy today…”
“I won’t fight you for him.”
“Gee, thanks. Why not?”
“Because I fancy the dead assassin who killed my uncle.” There, he’d said it.
Tom promptly spat a mouthful of coffee over the table in the café.
Alex passed him a handful of napkins.
**
“So what’re you going to do about it?” Tom asked, when he’d finally stopped gasping for breath.
“What the fuck can I do? He’s dead, Tom.”
“Yeah, I had noticed. So you’ve been pining over him for what, like four years?”
“No!” Alex resisted the urge to bang his head on the table. “Yes. Teenage hormones, remember?”
Tom grinned. “So I really did get laid before you?”
“Yes. Happy now?”
The grin widened. “Nah. Always knew you were a loser. I won’t rub it in.”
“Like hell you won’t. Can’t you just forget I said it?”
“Unlikely.”
“Not helping, mate.”
**
To Alex’s surprise, it did help. Keeping something like that from his best friend hadn’t been easy.
They quickly progressed from coffee to beer then when that ran out, they moved onto wine.
By the time Yassen arrived back from his weekly gossip session with Smithers, the pair of them were pleasantly drunk, sprawled out on the sofa with Alex’s feet resting on Tom’s stomach as they argued over the merits of the musical episode of Buffy.
Predictably, Tom loved it.
Equally predictably, Alex hated it.
Yassen refused to exercise a casting vote and retired upstairs to read a book.
**
Alex changed into pyjama bottoms in the bathroom and slid under the quilt.
“Night, Yassen.”
“Goodnight, Alex.” A heartbeat later, “Would you prefer me to rest in the other bedroom?”
“No. You always sleep here when Tom stays over.” And he always enjoyed waking up in the night and seeing Yassen, peaceful and relaxed in a loose-limbed sprawl on the beanbag.
Alex pulled the duvet up and turned out the light.
An hour later, he was still awake, his cock was hard, and his hands were nowhere near it.
Two hours later his control broke and he started touching himself.
**
He kept his movements slow and careful, lying on his side, facing into the room, his eyes on Yassen’s face, pale, insubstantial and painfully attractive bathed in the soft glow from London’s ever present light pollution.
Alex’s breath caught in his throat as he slicked his palm with the moisture beading at the tip of his cock.
Every slow stroke sent sharp pleasure dancing over his skin.
He wanted this to last but he knew it wouldn’t.
He’d waited too long for this.
He gasped as he came and Yassen’s eyes flew open.
Then, without a word, he promptly disappeared.
**
Alex sat bolt upright, his hand sticky and his cheeks hot.
“Yassen, I’m sorry!”
Silence.
The house felt empty, the way it had done when he’d believed Jack was dead,
“Yassen!”
Alex stumbled out of bed, wiping his hand on his pyjamas.
He checked every room. Each one was as empty as the next, apart from the one where Tom was snoring comfortably and drooling on the pillow.
One wank. One stupid, self-indulgent wank and he’d ruined everything.
“Yassen!”
The emptiness intensified, suffocating him until breathing became hard.
Alex wanted to wind back time.
But the world kept on turning.
**
A week later, Alex was given his next assignment.
Infiltrating a gang of blackmailers targeting diplomatic staff.
Alex fucking hated honey trap missions.
His job was to get enough intel to take them down.
His aim was to not get fucked.
Without Yassen’s help it was almost certainly all going to go spectacularly wrong.
Alex hadn’t worked a job solo for four years and it showed.
He was compromised in two days.
His breakout relied on luck.
Which promptly ran out.
The bullet punched straight through the scar on his chest.
Alex’s final thought was how much it fucking hurt.
**
The only witnesses were a pair of rats more interested in a discarded bag of cold chips.
The only living witnesses.
The dead crowded around him.
His mother stroked his hair back from his eyes.
His father looked like he wanted to solve all the world’s problems with a swift burst of uncontrollable violence.
Ian stood behind them, a stricken expression on his face.
Yassen just looked sick and guilty.
“Go back,” his mother implored. “Fight, darling, help’s on the way.”
Alex shook his head. He’d had no help since Yassen had left him.
And he didn’t care any more.
**
“Alex, you have a life to live.” Yassen’s voice was low, insistent. “Do not give up.”
“Why did you leave me?” The pain was receding and Alex could think clearly again.
“Because you should have a normal life, and I cannot be part of that. I’m dead, Alex. And you are alive.”
“Not for much longer.” Alex smiled. “Mum, dad. Nice to meet you.”
“Alex…”
He could see tears welling in his mother’s eyes as she held his hand and stroked his hair.
His father knelt beside her and touched his shoulder.
Yassen looked down at him, his expression unreadable.
**
“Come back with me.” Alex didn’t bother to disguise the entreaty in his voice. “I need you, Yassen.”
Yassen shook his head.
Alex sat up, twisting around to look at his body, red blood spreadng from the wound in his chest. He shrugged. “You stay, I stay. I won’t miss MI6.”
His mother looked up at Yassen, tears spilling down her cheeks. “It’s too soon.”
“Go with him.” This wasn’t John Rider, concerned parent, speaking. This was Hunter, Scorpia’s finest. When he gave an order, he expected to be obeyed. “Look after him, Yassen.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking.”
**
“I’m not asking, I’m telling.”
“Hunter… John…”
“He’s an adult, Yassen. He makes his own choices.”
Alex clambered to his feet, standing in his own dying body. “Stop talking like I’m not here.”
The sound of sirens broke into Alex’s thoughts and suddenly paramedics surrounded his body, all friendly voices and concerned efficiency.
He tried to step away from his body but was stopped by Yassen’s hand on his shoulder. “Alex, go back to Tom, go back to your life. It’s too soon for you to think about leaving it.”
“Then come with me.”
A fresh voice: “We’re losing him!”
**
“Cossack!” Alex heard the sharp whipcrack of command in his father’s voice.
Yassen shook his head. “No, John. He deserves more.”
“He doesn’t deserve death!”
“I told you, stop talking like I’m not here. I’m not a kid. I can die if I want to. And by the way, this is really fucking surreal.”
“More surreal than living with a ghost?” Yassen’s lip’s quirked into a familiar half smile.
“Dead housemate versus dying me, two dead parents and a dead uncle? Yeah, way more surreal than having you hanging around.”
A fresh voice broke in: “Stand clear!” A pause. “Shocking!”
**
“Still no output. Resume CPR.” The voice sounded resigned.
Alex looked down at his body now lying in a hospital bed, covered by a sheet and hooked up to various machines, one of which was showing a very flat line.
He didn’t need endless episodes of Casualty with Jack to know what that meant.
In a way, it was a relief. No more jobs for MI6. No more having to justify the inevitable deaths.
He was just pleased he wasn’t surrounded by vengeful ghosts and spectral jellyfish.
No more movie nights with Tom.
No more crappy TV shows with Yassen.
**
Staring at his dead body surrounded by medical staff all doing their best to bring him back, Alex wanted to tell them not to bother.
He was happy to stay here… wherever here was.
His parents stepped back, hands joined, faces sad.
He looked at Yassen. There was sadness there, too. And something else… something Alex didn’t understand… something that might almost have been hope.
Alex smiled. “Cheer up, it might never happen.”
“It already has.” Yassen slipped his arms around Alex’s waist and kissed him lightly on the lips.
Ignoring the presence of his parents, Alex kissed him back.
**
“Prepare for shock.” The doctor was certain they were wasting their time, but she had to keep trying. Just once more.
Loosing the young ones was always hard.
She knew nothing about the patient, but his scars told their own story.
He’d died twice in the ambulance and again in the operating theatre but somehow, they kept dragging him back. For a while she’d thought they were keeping him, but now she was just going through the motions.
“Stand clear… shocking!”
His chest jumped violently, but still no output.
“I’m calling it.” She looked at her watch. “Time of death…”
**
Yassen’s lips were soft, almost hesitant.
Alex shivered, feeling suddenly cold and weak. He held Yassen tightly and kissed him back. He’d waited so long for this and didn’t want the moment to end but, all too soon, Yassen stepped back.
“Go back. If you do, I shall follow you.”
Alex’s eyes widened. “Promise? And you won’t disappear again?”
“I promise.”
“On both counts?”
“Suspicious brat. Yes, on both counts. Now go.”
John and Helen Rider, the parents he had never known, were both smiling.
So was Ian.
He smiled back, gripped Yassen’s hand and stepped into his dead body.
**
“Output! We’ve got an output! The nurse sounded as amazed as the doctor felt.
The young man’s heartbeat was erratic but getting stronger.
She looked down at him, smiling. Getting this one back was totally unexpected.
She reached out and lightly touched the back of his hand.
A sudden shiver ran through her and despite the warmth of the operating theatre, she felt deathly cold.
She stepped back and the warmth returned.
Smiling, she looked around. “Look after him,” she murmured.
“Course we will,” one of the nurses said.
Alex’s eyelashes fluttered and his fingers tightened on an unseen hand.
**
“So why did you leave him?” Tom stared accusingly across Alex’s still form, holding his friend’s hand.
“He deserves more than I can give him.”
“Yeah, maybe, but that’s not the point, is it?”
The expression on Yassen’s face was as close to rueful as Tom had ever seen on the dead contract killer’s face. “Apparently not.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“I’m open to suggestions.”
“Not sure I’m qualified to give dating advice to dead assassins.”
“Try.”
“Watch Line of Duty with him. That’ll give you time to figure something out.”
Yassen smiled. He could do that.
**
When Alex woke up, the first thing he noticed was that one hand was warm while the other was cold.
“You OK, mate?” Tom’s fingers tightened on his and the tone belied the casual words.
“Peachy.”
“Go back to sleep.”
Alex smiled and, for once in his life, did exactly as he’d been told.
Waking up for a second time was less disorientating. He remembered his own name, what had gone wrong on his mission and…
“Did I kiss you in front of my parents?”
“Sorry, not guilty,” Tom said smugly.
Yassen looked managed to look both insubstantial and shifty.
**
“Did I really see my parents?”
Before Yassen could answer, Tom threw his hands up. “Don’t say anything! We need to be scientific about this.” He pulled a notebook out of the old school satchel he claimed was sexily retro and handed it to Alex. “Write it down.”
Yassen looked amused. “I haven’t yet managed to use a pen.”
Tom waved to the small bathroom. “I’ll turn the hot taps on, and you can write in the steam on the mirror.”
Five minutes later, Tom took a photo of Yassen’s neat handwriting as evidence and prepared to deliver his verdict.
**
Handing his phone to Alex, he said, “Your accounts are identical. The jury concludes that you did indeed kiss him in front of your parents.”
Alex looked part mortified part elated. “I wish I’d known them properly.”
Yassen stroked his hand lightly. “I think they would prefer you not to rush into that.”
“Yeah, I got that impression.” Alex felt tired and sad. “You could have stayed.”
Yassen nodded. “I could have done, but I chose not to.”
“Because of me.” It was a statement, not a question.
“Yes.”
“Because you felt guilty?”
“Because I wanted to be with you.”
**
Feeling surprisingly self-conscious, Alex walked out of the en-suite in his room wearing nothing more than a damp towel and a self-conscious expression.
The bedroom lights were off, and the room was bathed in London’s usual warm glow.
Yassen was sitting on the edge of Alex’s bed looking uncharacteristically unsure of himself.
Alex stepped up to him and let the towel fall to the floor.
Cool air prickled on his skin, raising goosebumps.
“Can ghosts undress?” Alex asked, to cover his nervousness.
A heartbeat later he was staring at Yassen Gregorovich’s insubstantial, unfairly attractive naked body.
“So it would seem.”
**
“You’ve been practising.”
“Of course.”
Yassen ran his hand lightly over Alex’s already hard cock. The caress felt like cool silk on his over-sensitive skin.
Alex’s breath caught in his throat. “Fucking hell, Yassen. Do that again.”
Yassen’s lips quirked upwards. “I wish I could give you more, Alex.”
“I’ll take what I can get.”
The silken caress enveloped him as Alex sprawled out on the bed.
Thought gave way to feeling as he lost himself in a world of sensation.
Feather-light touches, soft words murmured with intoxicating intensity.
Everything he’d ever dreamed of and more than he’d ever expected.
**
“You got laid last night, didn’t you?” Tom practically squealed.
“Say it again louder,” Alex muttered. “I think the three teenage girls with headphones in missed the announcement.”
The rest of the café certainly bloody hadn’t.
Tom lowered his voice to a stage whisper. “So how did you… you know… manage it?”
“I am not discussing my sex life with you.”
“Come on, we’ve never had secrets before, bro. Does lovely the Mrs Palm know you’re cheating on her?”
The elderly woman on the next table shot Alex a sympathetic glance coupled with an amused twinkle in her sharp eyes.
**
“Would you mind stabbing me through the heart with this fork?” Alex asked her, politely.
“He doesn’t mean it,” Tom assured her, snatching the fork out of Alex’s hand.
“I think he does, dear.”
“Listen to the nice lady, Tom.”
Tom rolled his eyes but did at least lower his voice. “Was it good?”
Alex sighed, knowing there was no escape. “Yes. Bloody fantastic.”
“So the whole… you know… dead thing… wasn’t a problem?”
“No, it wasn’t. And that’s all the bloody detail you’re getting.”
“You get laid by your spectral boyfriend and won’t give me the details? Harsh, Rider.”
**
“Did his chains rattle when he…?”
“Harris!” Alex brandished the fork threateningly.
“Just taking an interest, mate. So, how far have you got with Line of Duty?”
“Halfway through season two. Why?” The abrupt change of subject was in danger of giving Alex mental whiplash.
“Just wondering how long it took you to figure things out before you got to fourth base.”
Remembering several long nights of featherlight caresses interspersed with some difficult and emotional conversations, Alex blushed hotly.
“You suggested that to him?”
“Well, he was never going to agree to a Fifty Shades of Shite marathon, was he?”
**
Alex plonked a slab of salted caramel brownie and cream in front of Tom in the vain hope that his friend would shut up.
Tom scoffed it with indecent haste and then went back to tormenting him. “Does this mean pizza night’s off?”
“No, why should it?” Yassen was quite capable of fending for himself where Tom was concerned.
“Thought you lovebirds might want some space…”
“We like having you round. It feels… normal,” Alex admitted.
Tom grinned brightly. “I’ll bring the beer.”
“Just don’t bring Fifty Shades.”
“No point in looking for bondage tips if your boyfriend’s a…”
“Harris!”
**
“I’m beginning to think Dr Three’s tender ministrations would be preferable,” Yassen murmured as his fingertips ignited sparks low in Alex’s belly.
“He didn’t ask you if your chains rattle when you come, did he?”
Yassen’s eyes widened. “No.”
“You’re lucky. I don’t think I’ll ever dare set foot in that coffee shop again.”
“Then we’ll have to find another one.”
“We?”
“We,” Yassen said firmly. “If you have earbuds in, who will know you’re not talking to someone on your mobile?”
Alex smiled. He would like that a lot.
Then a starburst of pleasure took him beyond conscious thought.
**
Yeah, having a dead boyfriend was a bit weird, Alex would be the first to admit that, just not to MI6’s shrinks or to Mrs Jones.
There were still times when he needed a solid hug, but Tom was always ready to oblige on those occasions.
For everything else, he had Yassen.
And everything else was way, way better than he’d ever imagined it could be.
He made his peace with the past and learned to live in the present without regret.
They still binge-watched crappy TV shows and Yassen still drew the line at Friends.
Some things never changed.
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Date: 2021-08-08 05:17 pm (UTC)Brilliant fic, thank you!!
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Date: 2021-08-08 05:35 pm (UTC)Thank you for the lovely comments!
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Date: 2021-08-08 06:16 pm (UTC)