Disclamer: All of the characters belongs to who ever made them up. Same goes for every place.
AN: This story is co-written with TheWeddingFairy and she's also the one working as a beta.
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Alex walked along the crowded streets of Paris. MI6 had sent him there a few weeks earlier to get some information about a school where kids had the unfortunate habit of disappearing. He had at first refused, but as he was promised a few months paid vacation in the country he couldn't find any reason to keep resisting. Now his mission was done - he'd found nothing because there was nothing to find. And he was now determined to enjoy himself. What he hadn't planed was to bump into the last man he thought he'd ever see again. Yassen Gregorovich.
He'd recognise those ice-blue eyes and fair hair anywhere. But Alex had to be wrong - Yassen had died in his arms, two years ago.
The man saw Alex at the exact same time the boy noticed him. First he looked shocked, not that Alex blamed him. And then the man smiled. It was a weird smile - he looked both confused and happy at the same time. Alex didn't know what to do, so be backed away - wanting to leave.
Alex hurried off in one direction, trying to distance himself from the man. Who knew what Yassen was doing here? But Alex was sure that it signified something bad was about to happen - something that he didn't want to be involved in. A hand closed around his wrist.
"Alex?" the curiously empty voice murmured his name, and Alex's eyes fluttered shut in fear.
For a moment he wondered if he could pretend that this wasn't happening. He knew that Yassen had threatened to kill him on more than one occasion. And still he remembered the man's last words. 'I love you too Alex. I'm glad you're here with me now.' But that didn't ease his fear as much as he'd hoped. He swallowed hard and turned around - facing the man.
"Yassen. What do you want?" he demanded, tugging his arm out of the man's grip. "If you're here to kill me, get it over with."
"Alex," Yassen said placidly, and the boy could see the corners of his lips twitch in amusement. "I do not wish to kill you. If I did, you would have been dead long ago."
Alex had to give him that. He knew that Yassen was one of the best, and despite how many times he'd told Alex he would kill him, he'd never actually done it. Alex even recalled that on the occasions when he was about to kill the boy, he'd always given Alex a fair chance to get out of it. But Yassen was an assassin - and Alex was a spy. There was no way around that.
"Then what do you want?" Alex asked, walking away again and talking over his shoulder.
Once more Yassen stopped him with a hand clutching his wrist.
"You've paid your debt to my father. What other reason could you have for continuing to let me get away?"
Yassen sighed and Alex could swear that he looked both sad and annoyed. But he shrugged it all off as he knew that Yassen didn't have any emotions.
"This has nothing to do with your father, little Alex," the man said and moved closer to the boy.
"Then what is it?" Alex hissed. "What could you possibly want from me?"
"I want you," Yassen said simply. "I always have, from the moment I first set eyes on you."
Alex's jaw dropped, momentarily stunned into being speechless.
"Do not worry, little Alex," Yassen murmured with a low chuckle. "I know you are not ready, not yet."
And with that, he walked away from Alex; leaving the boy standing alone, gawping at his retreating back. He didn't really understand what had just happened. Did Yassen just tell him that he wanted him? Did Yassen Gregorovich, the man that killed his uncle, just say that he wanted Alex? Alex just shook his head. This must be some weird dream. Or he was just stressed out, imagining stuff.
The man had been swallowed by the crowd, and the only thing remaining that let Alex know that he was really there was the disappearing feeling of the grip on his arm. Alex turned around and walked back to his hotel. He needed to sort out some of his thoughts.
The more he thought about the strange meeting, the more annoyed he got. The way Yassen had treated him - calling him "little Alex" - was irritating and condescending as hell. Did the man really think he could address Alex as a child, tell the boy he wanted him, and then give him no time to reply? No... He was going to find Yassen, and demand some answers from the obscure Russian. And it wasn't only answers he wanted from the man. He had some things to say on his own. He was not a child. He was sixteen years old - and he was a spy.
The more he thought about it, the more he realised that he hadn't been a child for many years - even before Ian was killed.
So every day Alex left his hotel room and roamed the city. He would find Yassen, and he would demand some respect.
He returned to the street where he had bumped into Yassen every day for three weeks, sitting in a dainty little cafe and sipping on coke.
Alex continued this pattern for the next month or so, phoning Jack to tell her that he was going to extend his vacation - something important had come up. He'd also lied to MI6 - telling them that he'd discovered a lead in order to buy himself more time.
But the more time that passed, the more he lost hope that he would ever see the man again. He'd even started to think that it had all just been an illusion due to all of his stress.
Two months after bumping in to Yassen, Alex decided it was time to go home. He couldn't stay away any longer - people were beginning to question his motives. And he'd come to realise that he would never find Yassen again - the man was gone.
It was a few days before he was due to fly back to England and he was sitting in the same cafe, as usual. He couldn't break the habit of sitting in a chair out front, drinking coke and watching as people walked by. He drained his glass, paid the bill with a sigh and decided to head back to the hotel. What was the point in sitting there all day? Somebody bumped into him and he looked up angrily.
"Watch it-"
"Hello, Alex."
He was looking into those icy blue eyes again. Yassen smiled down at him and for a moment Alex was stunned.
"I've noticed you've been looking for me," the man smirked.
"Yeah," Alex said and suddenly all of his words came back to him. "I have. I want some answers from you. What do you mean by just showing up here like that - you're supposed to be dead! And what gives you the right to just say that you want me and then walk away without giving me the chance to respond! I'm not a child, Yassen! You can't just say something like that to somebody, somebody that's supposed to be your enemy, and then piss off!"
Yassen raised an eyebrow, surprised by Alex's irritation. He had expected the boy to be disgusted, or horrified, but annoyed? No. The boy never ceased to amaze Yassen.
"So I want some answers Yassen," Alex continued, unaware of the man's reaction. "What on earth gives you the right to treat me like that?"
Alex looked at him with demanding eyes, and Yassen found himself all out of words. Since he'd expected another reaction from the boy, he didn't know how to handle this one. The boy crossed his arms and looked stern.
Then Yassen did the only thing he could: he leaned in and kissed Alex.
Alex stood completely still, shocked as the elder man's surprisingly soft lips continued to move against his own. He knew this was wrong, and he should hate it, but for some unknown reason, he couldn't bring himself to push the Russian away. Yassen sensed his reaction and quickly pulled away.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled and he sounded genuinely sad.
He turned around and started to walk away. How could he have been so stupid? He knew the boy wasn't ready, so why did he have to push it?
He looked down at the smaller hand that encircled his wrist, raising a quizzical eyebrow as he turned to face Alex.
"Wait; don't leave."
Yassen stood still, Alex's hand still on his arm and watched as the boy struggled to find words.
Alex looked at the man. What was he doing? The kiss had shocked him. His brain had told him that it was wrong. But then why had his body responded to it? He had liked it. He had liked to feel the man so close. And he was honest when he said that he wanted him to stay. But what did he want? His mind told him one thing - his heart another. He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath and let his body take over.
Without words he kissed Yassen and hoped that he could put enough truth in to it for the man to understand.
Yassen held back for a moment, unsure of what the actions meant. But when Alex's grip around his wrist loosened and his fingers threaded in Yassen's hair, he grabbed the boy around the waist and pulled him flush against his chest. The feeling of the boy so close to him brought him closer to heaven than he'd ever been. For two years he'd wanted to touch the boy. Wanted to hold him in his arms and tell him just how wonderful he was. And now he was.
From across the street a man, casually dressed in jeans and a plain white shirt, was watching the two men.
Yassen pulled away from the boy, his breaths laboured and heavy.
"I..." Alex panted. "Um..."
Yassen's eyes narrowed as he noticed the man quickly averting his eyes from them and rounding the corner. Moving out of Alex's embrace, the older man followed the suspicious man, chasing after him.
At first, Alex didn't realise that Yassen was running away. He was too consumed in the emotions that ran through him. He'd just kissed Yassen - and he'd liked it. Then suddenly he felt cold. He looked up and saw that Yassen was gone - he'd run away.
Alex stared after the older man, feeling angry. They'd just kissed - why the hell had he just left, without even saying a word?
He chased after him, deciding to follow Yassen and demand some answers. Alex rounded the corner that he had just seen Yassen turn. The man was no where to be seen, and Alex felt disappointed and saddened. He stopped and looked around. He was all alone. The street was overly crowded - but Alex had never felt more alone. What had he done wrong? It didn't make any sense to him. He fought back the tears that were threatening to overpower him. He swallowed them all and returned back to his hotel. He couldn't leave quickly enough.
Yassen turned yet another corner, scouring the streets for any sign of the man that had been watching them. Maybe after being an assassin for so long, his paranoia had begun to get to him.
He turned to head back, before realisation dawned. He'd left Alex standing there after an amazing kiss, running away without any explanation.
"Shit…" he breathed, running back to where he had abandoned the boy.
He was no where to be seen.
"Fuck!" he almost shouted. Then he cursed using every Russian expletive he knew, as if it would make him feel better.
How could he have been so stupid to just run off like that? What would Alex think? He knew he needed to tell the boy how much it had meant to him. But to do that he'd need to find Alex again.
Then realisation hit him - he didn't know where Alex lived. And he didn't know how he would find out. Should he ask around? And was Alex even still in France, or had he left for England? He realised that he has to find Alex again and explain, no matter what.
So he, unconsciously mirroring Alex's actions, returned to the street that he first saw Alex. He went back every day, determined to find Alex.
Alex, after finally finding a lead on his mission, had decided to extend his stay in Paris indefinitely. He blatantly avoided that street, not wanting to bump into Yassen.
During the days Alex was focused on his mission, but as soon as he got to bed his thoughts ran back to the kiss. Why couldn't he just stop thinking about it? But the thoughts of Yassen's lips upon his own still made him smile. If only his mind would stop there, but it had to go all the way. The emptiness that Yassen left when he just took off without a word brought Alex to tears almost every night. But as time passed he became more desperate for answers.
And two weeks later he decided that he needed to try to find Yassen once more. Because without the truth, he wouldn't be able to move on. As he closed in on the corner where they met his heart began to pound. He was nervous. A part of him was afraid that Yassen wouldn't be there and that all hope of seeing him would have been in vain. The other part of him feared that the man would be there. What would he do if Yassen actually stood there - waiting for him? He wanted to turn around and go back to the hotel. He wanted to take the next flight back to London and run back home and let Jack comfort him and take him away from the world he didn't belong in.
His mission was done - now it was vacation once more. And that he could spend in any other country but France. He never wanted to set foot in this damned country again - it only brought pain to him.
He rounded the corner, and to his severe disappointment, and admittedly, relief, Yassen wasn't there. He headed towards his usual cafe, but faltered as he saw a conspicuous-looking man sitting at a table, surreptitiously watching him above a paper.
Alex decided to head back to his hotel; his shoulders slumped slightly in defeat. He decided that once he was in his room he'd pick up the phone and book his plane ticket back home.
As he walked he couldn't help but think about how stupid he'd been to even think that Yassen would wait there for him. It'd been two weeks since that kiss - the man must have moved on. Alex was so consumed by his thoughts that he didn't see the man in front of him. He bumped into a strong body and fell to the ground.
"For God's sake!" Alex yelled, staggering to his feet. "Can't you watch where the hell you're going?"
"Alex..." a familiar voice breathed and Alex froze, his anger momentarily leaving him as he looked into Yassen's eyes.
But then he remembered the way the man had left him, and he got angry again.
"How dare you just show up like this!" he hissed and ignored the hand that reached down to help him up. "After running away like that… you should just piss off! You have no..."
He met Yassen's eyes and he felt both his anger and his words leave him. For the first time since he had met the assassin, he could see emotions in his eyes. Yassen looked sad and remorseful.
"Alex," the man gently said. "I'm sorry."
"It's okay, I guess," Alex sighed and smiled as Yassen helped him to his feet, then pressed him against the wall, moving to kiss him. He couldn't be angry with the man, not after seeing him reveal some form of emotions. Yassen had to care about him – he was normally cool and guarded, unwilling to let anybody detect his feelings.
Their lips met fiercely and Alex felt his legs turn to jelly.
He drew back from the older man breathlessly.
"We need to leave. There's somebody watching us."
"Oh?" Yassen frowned, looking over Alex's shoulder.
Sure enough, a man was hurriedly averted his gaze and walking away in the opposite direction.
"You're right. You know, that was the reason I left that day - I noticed somebody suspicious watching us and followed them."
"Oh," Alex simply said.
Suddenly he realised that he'd been stupid to think that Yassen left because of him.
"So it wasn't my fault?" he asked and figured he'd sound like a child.
"No, little Alex," Yassen smiled and stroke his cheek. "It was never your fault."
Alex wanted to laugh as all his doubt left him. Instead, he put his arm around Yassen's neck and pulled him in for a deep kiss.
"Come on," Alex murmured, indicating that Yassen should follow. "Let's go check out my room."
Yassen raised a quizzical eyebrow, appraising Alex.
"Not like that! I mean, I wanted to check that nobody has been it!" Alex flushed at Yassen's implications.
"That sounds good," Yassen smiled and followed Alex inside.
Alex's room was on the first floor so it didn't take long to reach it. Suddenly Yassen stopped - something felt wrong. There wasn't a single person in the corridor and there were some light marks around the door to Alex's room.
"Were they there before?" Yassen asked.
Alex looked at him, wondering what he was talking about. Then he too saw the marks and shook his head.
"Give me the key," Yassen whispered.
He walked up to the door and pressed his ear against it. On the other side he could hear faint movements.
Alex leaned closer, both of them hovering silently in front of the closed door. Yassen grabbed a handful of his shirt and yanked him away - a bullet hole appearing where Alex's head had lingering just moments before.
"Shit!" Alex cried as a second bullet swiftly followed the second.
Yassen pushed Alex flat against the wall and murmured "Stay here."
He drew his gun, and kicked the door open. The man raised his gun, aiming behind Yassen, and he knew that Alex hadn't listened and followed him in. He shoved Alex to the side, but the younger boy still cursed: the intruder had still managed to shoot him.
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