The cab ride was silent. Alex was curled up against the left side of the wall, eyes still dead. He wasn't sure what was going on.

After he'd come back from Moscow, and the debacle of a mission, he'd tried, really tried to go back to living. But the moment the clock hit midnight and he was eighteen, nothing really seemed to matter anymore. Alex couldn't remember going to the roof, didn't know how long he'd spent staring down at the street below. And he had no fucking idea how Yassen Gregorovich came to be there. Or how he'd ended up in a cab with said assassin. Or kissing him for that matter.

The teenager resisted the urge to touch his lips. He could still remember the feel of Frank trying to rape him. There had been no tender kisses then. A shudder worked its way through him as he remembered the frantically pawing hands. Before Alex could lose himself entirely, a hand brushed some hair out of his face.

Yassen worked to hold back a frown when Alex jumped under his gentle touch. "Its going to be fine." He whispered, "You're safe."

"For now."

The assassin didn't try to refute those words, and didn't spout off the usual meaningless platitudes, he understood what Alex meant. And he didn't care.

"Tonight is all that matters."

Alex tensed again, but before any more could be said the cab pulled up at the curb. Yassen paid the cabbie and led Alex through a tangle of streets before unlocking a little house jammed in the middle of a block.

Inside was just like any other old home, cozy and comfy, but without any of the little knickknacks that would come to live in a house inhabited by a normal family. This was a safe house, a place to crash in between jobs.

"Why were you in London?"

Yassen stilled for a moment at the question, before resuming hanging up his and Alex's coats, "It's your eighteenth birthday."

"You were paying me a birthday visit?"

"Yes."

Alex just nodded. Part of Yassen waited for the snappy comeback the younger Alex would have had, but he knew wasn't coming, Alex was just too broken for that to happen right now.

The assassin led the way into the kitchen, setting a kettle on and taking out two mugs. Alex sat listlessly at the kitchen table.

"Does MI 6 know what happened in Moscow?"

Alex shrugged, "They didn't ask, they never do."

"You weren't debriefed?"

Another humorless laugh, "What passes for debriefing where I'm concerned, just making sure I did the mission and I'm not injured."

"Have they ever given you a psychiatrist?"

"Why would they?"

Yassen set the cups he was holding down very deliberately, "Because Alex, every agent gets a proper debriefing and they're all required to see a psychiatrist and be cleared for duty."

Alex looked up at the restrained anger in the other man's voice, "Apparently I'm not a proper agent."

"Obviously blackmail and child labor laws have been ignored, but they're not only risking your health by not giving you proper care, they're putting every mission on which they use you at risk." Yassen studied the young man sitting at his table, "That they think they can get away with it is a testament to your skill Alex."

"One I'd just as well do without."

"Indeed."

After pouring the tea Yassen sat down across from the other man.

They sat in silence, drinking their tea, thinking about what had happened. For his part Yassen was very angry at MI 6, treating any agent that carelessly was horrific, but this was Alex Rider, who hadn't been much more than a boy when he'd first begun. Yassen lived in a cruel world and was a cruel man, but there were some things that even he wouldn't stand for.

Alex wrapped his hands more tightly around the warm mug. He'd gone to the rooftop to kill himself and ended up kissing the world's best assassin. This was definitely not how he saw the night going, yet here he was, sitting in the kitchen of a safe house drinking tea with Yassen Gregorovich. Alex leaned back a bit, he was just so tired.

"What happens now?"

"You need some rest," Yassen replied.

"That wasn't what I was talking about," There was a new edge to Alex's voice, leaving no doubt that he was referring to the kiss and Yassen's words on the rooftop.

The assassin sighed, "I meant it. You're more important."

"Because of my father?"

"Because of you."

Blue eyes met brown over the table and Yassen continued, "Yes John is part of it, but I'm not tanking my career for his son. I'm doing it for Alex."

Alex nodded, "Right so—"

"Sleep," Yassen interrupted, "We can have all of the hard conversations later, we both need rest."

Alex really wanted to just get all of the hard conversations out of the way now. The first one he wanted dealt with was the inevitable one about the kiss on the rooftop and the way it was going to change their relationship. Instead he stood, bringing his mug to the sink and rinsing it.

Suddenly there was a body behind him, close enough to be felt, but not so close as to cage him. "Alex," the murmur was warm and full of the emotion he'd never dreamed the assassin possessed. "There's no need to rush." Alex nodded, understanding the caution. "Come upstairs."

Yassen showed Alex to the houses only bedroom, wishing he could use it for something far more enjoyable, but after a near rape, somehow it didn't seem right. Not with everything still up in the air.

"I'll leave you then," but Yassen was stopped by a hand on his wrist, drawing him back to Alex. Another hand on his cheek turned his head, and the Alex was up on his tiptoes kissing him.

"Alex," Yassen warned, but the spy shrugged, stepping closer and continuing to kiss the older man. A sigh, and then Yassen was holding Alex again, kissing back, enjoying the feel of the younger body pressed against him. Through sheer force of will Yassen pulled back to murmur, "I don't want to hurt you."

"Then don't leave me alone tonight."

Now, how could anyone resist that?

Alex felt strong arms lift him up, and he wrapped his legs around Yassen waist as the other man took control of the kiss, walking towards the bed.

When the spy was laid on the bed Yassen took the time for one last disclaimer, "Stop me," he whispered.

"Not a chance," there was some fire back in Alex's eyes, and hungry for more of that look Yassen trailed kisses down his neck, lifting the spy's shirt over his head, and stripping the younger man of his jeans and boxers. Alex helped Yassen out of his clothes, and both stopped to admire the other.

Scars were a part of life in their world, little mementos of places and people and death. Yassen traced the bullet scar over Alex's heart with delicate fingers while Alex traced a long mark over his ribs.

It was gentle that night, Yassen was careful to keep it so. He made sure that Alex felt safe and comfortable and desired, thrusting slow and sweet, and cuddling him after it was over. Alex curled into the muscled chest, dropping into a deep sleep for the first time since Moscow, utterly safe.

When they woke up there would be conversations, and decisions, but right now, nothing else mattered but the warm arms around each other.

So… we're not talking about how long this took. I really didn't mean to continue it.. and unless you lot just adore this I'm calling it quits. Please let me know how you liked it. Not a songfic because those are bloody hard to do well and there wasn't a song that called to me. Merry Christmas/Winter Solstice/ Hanukah/ Kwanza/any other holiday I forgot.