Right! Here I am, people, with a brand new one-shot. Now, before everyone gets all het up, and accusing me of breaking my promises - 'you said you weren't going to post any new stories!' - I'll reiterate... I said I wouldn't post any new MULTI-CHAPTER stories. This is a oneshot. I can write as many oneshots as I like!

grin

So, this story is dedicated to Silver Queen, who wrote me a lovely oneshot called 'Anything But' - and in return, she asked for a oneshot involving Yassen and Wolf; I duly obliged, saying that I didn't think I could manage any slash, because my brain would break.

I'm afraid it broke.

So! More slash. Sorry, folks, I didn't mean it. But it IS slash, which means that all of you who don't like man-on-man sex should leave now. The door is that way, and don't forget to tip the doorman on the way out.

There are several labels to go with this - it's slash, it's the crackiest of crack!fics, and it involves the tiniest Bond-crossover ever... and I also stole a section of it from my wonderful friend Von, who deserves a medal for listening to all my crap, the ideas I throw at her, the bad grammar I subject her to... Poor girl.

DISCLAIMER: Bond belongs to Ian Fleming, Alex Rider belongs to Yassen Gregorovich.

...y'know what? I actually typed that without thinking about it. Oh, my mind is so broken! I mean, of course, Anthony Horowitz. And he's welcome to him, if this is the level of insanity I'd have to put up with if I owned him myself!

Onwards, dear readers... And do remember - this is a SLASH CRACK!FIC. I make no apologies for the madness, and will pay no one's therapy bills.

Oh, and Silver Queen? I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry.

The only thing Wolf wanted, he had decided during the long Tube journey home from Harrow and Wealdstone to Elephant and Castle, was a hot shower, a pizza, and the rerun on a game on the TV.

If Alex had been in England, he would probably have had the shower at his place, and headed over to Alex's for the pizza and the game, and possibly something else – but Alex was in Dubrovnik at the moment, dealing with some kind of industrial espionage issue which was threatening to go international… Wolf neither knew the details nor wanted to know them, but he would rather have liked to have had Alex in England at the moment. On top of all his other talents, he gave a killer back massage.

The Tube journey took him the whole way along the Bakerloo line, which was possibly the slowest underground line in the history of underground lines, and once again, Wolf cursed the engineer work which meant all trains going to Euston stopped at Harrow and Wealdstone. And then he cursed the training exercise which had forced him to go to Holyhead in the first place, just before he was due for some leave. Then, bereft of any other travel-related issues to curse, he cursed his career choice, and lastly, he cursed Eagle. Because it was undoubtedly Eagle he had tripped over that time, and it was therefore his fault that Wolf had sprained a muscle in his shoulder.

In fact, it was probably Eagle's fault that they had had to go on the training exercise in the first place. Given the time and the inclination, Wolf could blame just about anything on Eagle.

He finally stumbled into his flat nearly three-quarters of an hour after his train had pulled in to the little station at Harrow and Wealdstone, absolutely shattered.

He was greeted with a sight he had never expected to see in his life. He had learnt to recognise this man's face on sight – along with the faces of various others – during his training, but he had never expected to see him sat in his kitchen.

"You!" he said, shocked to the point of horror, one hand going to the gun he would be wearing if he was in uniform.

"Me." The man agreed, urbanely. "Coffee?"

"No." he paused, and realised that it was probably not a good idea to piss this man off. "Thank you." he added, by way of a conciliatory gesture.

Yassen Gregorovich's lips twitched suspiciously. "Lieutenant. I'm sure you're tired after that training exercise you've just had," heavy-handed, Wolf thought, critically, very heavy-handed, "So I won't take up too much of your time." On the other hand, Wolf reflected, the man had been dead for nearly eight years, so he'd probably earned a little bit of lee-way in the intimidation stakes.

"How can I help you, Mr. Gregorovich?" he asked, calmly, and wasn't quite able to quell the wicked little urge which prompted him to add, "I must say, you're looking good, considering."

"Considering what?" And that voice was definitely a little less calm and unruffled than it had been a moment ago, Wolf reflected with some satisfaction.

"Well, considering you've been dead for the last eight years or so."

"Oh, yes. Rumours of my death have been-"

"Greatly exaggerated, yes, I can see." Wolf nodded. The little voice in the back of his head which preached the glorious message of self-preservation was screaming that provoking and mocking an internationally-acclaimed contract killer was stupid to the point of actual lunacy… but then, Wolf was in the SAS. He was paid not to listen to that little voice. "So, yes. Is there anything in particular I can do for you?"

"I'm actually here to give you a friendly little warning." Gregorovich told him, regaining his vaunted calm without blinking an eyelid; oh, this guy was good. Suddenly, Wolf was less than sure he wanted to hear this 'little warning'.

"Oh?"

"It's come to my attention that you are – close – to Alex Rider."

Wolf's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Yes. And?"

"I think you should make a definite effort to become… less close." Gregorovich said, simply, toying idly with something which looked like a gold cufflink, but was probably some kind of highly powerful explosive, designed to take out entire houses and make it look like a gas leak.

Wolf thought back on all the occasions he had been 'close' to Alex, weighed up the amazing sex against the near-certain loss of life and limb, and promptly went for the least logical response. "Why?" he asked.

For a moment, Gregorovich was silent, before saying, slowly, "I myself have a vested interest in him."

The younger man stared. "He's screwing you, as well?" he could quite stop the instinctive addition to that. "I thought he had more taste."

For the first time, a flicker of annoyance passed across Gregorovich's face, but whatever he was about to say was lost as a key scratched in the lock of Wolf's flat, and they both turned to look at the door.

"It's like Piccadilly bloody Circus in here." Wolf growled, crossing his arms over his chest. Gregorovich stood, apparently ready to make himself scarce, should he be faced with someone he really shouldn't see.

Neither of them was expecting to see Alex calmly letting himself into Wolf's flat.

In a desperate attempt to clear it, Wolf shook his head. Maybe if he could shake himself hard enough, he would wake up, and this would all turn out to be an incredibly surreal dream…

It wasn't. Sadly.

"Hey, James." Alex stripped off his jacket, hanging it up and slinging his bag into one corner of the hallway. "I hope this isn't a bad time? I got back early from Dubrovnik, and remembered you had leave, so I thought I'd swing by…" By this time, Alex had come level with Wolf at the doorway to the kitchen, and could clearly see Yassen behind him by the table. "Oh, Yassen! Hi."

Wolf spluttered for a moment, scrambling to get his thoughts in order. "Is that all you have to say?" he asked, horrified. "'Oh, hi'? He threatened me, because you're screwing him!"

Alex frowned. "Did he?" he gave Yassen a look which had the renowned assassin cringing where he stood.

Wolf, more than a little pissed off by this point, rounded on the younger man with a glare strong enough to strip paint. "Alex, what the fu-"

Alex sighed. "Oh, James, don't be so uptight about it."

Wolf opened his mouth to deliver a caustic response, only to find himself being thoroughly kissed. All in all, it was a very pleasant experience – but then, it always was. He couldn't quite resist shooting Gregorovich a rather smug glance - only to have it wiped off his face as Alex kissed the Russian with much the same enthusiasm.

Wolf tried to adjust himself surreptitiously. He couldn't stand the guy, but damn, that was hot.

Alex stepped back, and offered both of them a wicked little grin, followed by wide, innocent brown eyes. "What? You both said you were fine with an open relationship...?"

"Yes, I did." Wolf agreed, trying, and failing, to pretend that his trousers weren't uncomfortably tented. "But when I said 'open', I didn't have a dead international contract killer in mind for the kind of guy you'd be going out with on the side!"

"Nor did I assume you would choose an uptight, unattractive grunt worker in the military to satisfy you when I couldn't be there." Yassen added, coolly.

Alex's expression morphed seamlessly into 'hurt', and both of them found themselves having to restrain the urge to cuddle him and tell him everything was going to be fine; the little brat had both of them wrapped around his little finger. No wonder he was MI6's star turn... "Oh, come on, both of you, play nicely. Wolf, Yassen isn't dead. And Yassen, James isn't unattractive." he paused, glancing downwards with a fleeting expression which somehow managed to be incredibly explicit without a word being said to help it on its way. "And he's really not that uptight, either." he added, in a sensuous little murmur which sent a shiver down Wolf's spine.

He did manage to pull himself together for long enough to croak out, "I think you're focusing on the wrong part of my concern."

Alex shrugged. "Probably. But I'm very good at that, don't you think?" Another smile, which faded, as he turned to the other blond in the room. "As for you, Yassen, if we're in an open relationship, what on earth possessed you to come round here and threaten James?"

Yassen actually flushed. "I wished to tell him the occupational hazards of interfering with what is mine." he said, stiffly.

"I'm not yours, though." Alex pointed out, amused. He paused. "You know, I'd be tempted to suggest pistols at dawn - let you fight it out over me, which can be a real turn-on, y'know? - but I know you're both crack shots, so you'd probably both die, and then I wouldn't get any righteous ravishing from the victor, which would suck." He bit his lip, thinking it over, and the two older men were both instantly fixated on the sight of those white, even teeth worrying at that luscious lower lip... "Tell you what. It's an open relationship, yes?"

"Yeah."

"Yes."

"Well, why don't we close it?" Alex beamed, "Just the three of us."

There was a moment's deadly silence, before Yassen spoke up, voice very level. "In what world could that possibly be a good idea?!"

Alex shrugged. "You both get me, I get both of you... sounds ideal to me. Plus, hardcore threesomes? Love them."

"How on earth do you know about hardcore threesomes?" Wolf asked, rather hoarsely, thinking back to the last threesome he'd been in, which had involved Fox, Eagle, and large amounts of vodka. Which Eagle had supplied. Which meant it was, as usual, all Eagle's fault.

Alex shrugged again. "Well, something's got to keep me occupied while you two are both unavailable."

Wolf and Yassen exchanged a long glance, strangely free of hostility. It was Wolf, however, who summed it up for both of them. "Well, shit." He said, simply.

Finally, Alex broke the silence, moving over to the kettle and filling it with water. "Tea?" he asked, kindly, seeing the poleaxed expressions on the faces of his two lovers.

"Coffee, please." Wolf said. "And there's whiskey in the cupboard above the sink."

"I believe I'll have the same." Yassen agreed, his voice steady, but his eyes a little wild.

It really didn't take long for them to leave the coffee out entirely, and head straight for the whiskey. After his training exercise, coming home to find a contract killer in his kitchen, and the shock of suddenly finding himself in a physical relationship with said contract killer – albeit by proxy – Wolf felt he had every right to drink as much as he liked, and SAS rules be damned.

As for Yassen, he just drank in stoic silence. By the time Wolf was well away, Yassen was still relatively sober, and Alex produced a bottle of Russian vodka from his bag. Wolf, vaguely remembering some unfortunate situation involving Eagle, Fox and a bottle of vodka, declined with an emphatic shake of the head, slurring something about 'SAS bonding', and putting his head back on his arms. Alex – who had hardly been drinking at all – handed the bottle to Yassen, and headed over to Wolf, plunking himself down in the man's lap with a grin, which widened to Cheshire-cat proportions as Wolf's arms went round him, and the man leant his head against Alex's chest, rather than the table.

"I'll kill you if you can't get it up." Alex told him, firmly, the harshness of his words belied by the hand stroking idly at the base of Wolf's skull.

Yassen muttered something uncomplimentary in Russian about 'not being worth it when it was up', and Alex shot him a quick glare, since Wolf couldn't understand.

"If you haven't got anything to say, don't say anything at all." He said, firmly, in the same language. "And anyway," he softened the reprimand, adding in Spanish – a language he knew both of them were fluent in, and which had never failed to get Wolf interested, "Think of all the exciting things we can do with three of us…"

Really, it was inevitable – two enthralled lovers, judicious use of alcohol, and a very determined spy… the outcome was never going to be anything else.

Still, Alex thought, smugly, he had to hand it to himself – he was good. He glanced at the two men wrapped round him, still sleeping. They'd been 'good', too. In fact, this whole idea had been a fantastic plan of his… and Yassen had screwed away any annoyance Alex had felt at having his plans sped up so clumsily.

Wolf moved slightly in his sleep and - still half asleep himself - Alex shot out a hand automatically to stop the knife Yassen had plunged towards the disturbance.

"Spoil sport." The Russian grumbled quietly in his native tongue.

"You're just bitter because you're so predictable." Alex yawned by way of a reply, rubbing back against the man in a way guaranteed to drive any angry thoughts – or any thoughts at all – clean out of his mind.

"Hey. No bed-talk in foreign languages." Wolf growled from behind him, voice still gummed up with sleep, and Alex grinned to himself.

Yes, life was good.

Breakfast, however, was slightly less good; neither Yassen nor Wolf were morning people, and both seemed to feel that they had been in some way manipulated into the situation they now found themselves in. They had, of course – but Alex was horrified that they should have recognized it so soon.

It was imperative that they both understand exactly why he had done this; and so he set about re-seducing them round to his point of view, using breakfast as his best bargaining tool.

"Look." He said, patiently, pouring a grumpy Yassen more coffee, and shoving a piece of buttered toast towards an equally grumpy Wolf. "We all know what a man-whore Bond is-"

"'Is'?" Wolf and Yassen stared at him.

"Yeah." Alex gave them a weird look, "Nice guy, but a bit heavy handed. Anyway, we all know what a slut he can be, and I'm much younger than he is. My sex-drive is about four times the size of his!" he paused, taking a mouthful of his own cereal and chewing thoughtfully. "And, believe it or not, I'm choosier than he is with my partners-"

"Not noticeably." Yassen sniped, sipping at his coffee, and giving Wolf a truly offensive glance.

"It's not my fault your stamina gave out halfway through." Wolf returned, smugly, and Yassen treated him to a poisonous glare.

"I'm jetlagged!" he hissed.

"And-"

"Oh, shut up, the pair of you!" Alex snapped, massaging his temples. "At this rate, I'd rather deal with Bond's over-enthusiastic pawing than listen to you two bicker on."

Both of them stopped dead. "You've slept with James Bond?"

Alex raised an eyebrow. "Trust me, if you were MI6, the question would be more 'you haven't slept with James Bond'." He shrugged. "Though, he was a good shag, once he started listening to me." He looked at the pair of them. "OK, so, here's the deal. I'm not gonna promise to be endlessly faithful. But I will promise," he shot both of them one of his trademark wicked looks. "To do whatever you want when it's just us." He took another innocent mouthful of cereal while Wolf and Yassen tried to remember how their brains worked again.

Alex, for his part, took a smug sip of tea, and smiled to himself. Oh, yes. This was all going to work out perfectly.

So, there you have it. Those who have got this far, the doorman likes a review on his way out. Just so you know.

Hope you enjoyed the madness!

-amitai