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tamingthemuseTitle: Hazards of the Job
Fandom: James Bond
Pairing: Bond/OMC
Prompt: 108 - dead at the wheel at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
tamingthemuse
Warnings: Slash.
Rating: Teen.
Summary: Not much in Bond's job gets to him anymore.
Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, but I wish I did.
A/N: Unbetaed.
As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated.
*************
"We need you to plant a tracker on the target without alerting him." M's voice was dry and to the point as she passed over a dossier. Bond opened the folder and took a look at the target.
Dr. Timothy Heaven smiled up from his photograph. He looked too young to be a research scientist in Glasgow, Bond thought. The doctor kept his hair short, but the hint of blonde highlights in the otherwise dark hair belied the suggested casual nature of the man's good looks. Bond kept his face impassive, betraying nothing of his thoughts. "What sort of tracker?"
"It's here," M gestured to a small hypodermic syringe lying on her desk. "Inject this into him, anywhere, and we can follow his movements for the next two weeks. That should be plenty of time."
Now Bond frowned. "What aren't you telling me?"
"Why do you think that I'm keeping something back?" M asked, turning slightly, one eyebrow rising in silent challenge.
"Because this job doesn't require that much skill. Anyone on the street can inject anything into a person without much trouble. Why did you specifically request me?"
"He's not the usual sort we'd send you after, true." Her lips quirked in brief amusement. "He's not your type, but you're definitely his."
She waited a long moment, her eyes searching Bond's. "Do you have any questions?"
"No."
************
Twenty-four hours later, Bond nodded at the bouncer who stood guard outside a deceptively nondescript looking club. The guard flicked his eyes over Bond and stood aside, apparently deciding that Bond met whatever qualifications were necessary to gain admittance.
Dressed casually, but expensively, in Gucci, Bond didn't even look around the club once he passed through the door. He had read about it on his flight, and according to the intelligence information he had, Dr. Timothy Heaven would arrive at some point in the next two hours, seemingly alone. The good doctor would drink a dirty martini quickly, and then order a second one to enjoy more leisurely. He didn't dance. He didn't made advances of his own, and he rebuffed most of the advances made towards him.
Only someone who was really paying attention would realize that some of the revelers in the club weren't enjoying their evening out. Some of the crowd spent most of their time watching the doors and other patrons suspiciously, doing their best to keep Dr. Heaven alive and healthy.
Most Friday nights ended with Dr. Heaven leaving, again seemingly alone, only to be swept back into his heavily guarded limousine and taken back to a safe house. The security was pretentious for someone who was a mere research scientist, but according to Bond's information - and his own suspicions - Dr. Heaven's work on retroviruses made him more than a mere research scientist. And his connections with the Saudi government made him an interest to the British government. It wasn't Bond's job to question why, just to plant the tracker.
Reaching the bar, Bond ordered a martini, frowning at the memory of M's amused smile. Dr. Heaven's proclivities were already well known to the Crown and M wasn't above whoring her people out to get the job done. If Dr. Heaven was attracted to three foot tall green women, M would have produced one. It was just Bond's luck that Dr. Heaven preferred his bed partners to be tall blonde men.
Turning, he leaned back and scanned the bar with interest. Al of the patrons were men, and most were well dressed and moved with the confidence inspired by powerful jobs. A few of the men met Bond’s eyes with questioning glances, but he shut them down without a word and they went on about their business. They were looking for a good time, and something in Bond’s expression promised more trouble than he was worth.
Finally, just when Bond began to wonder if Dr. Heaven had made alternate plans, he saw the door open. The man’s picture didn’t do him justice – he was truly handsome. From where Bond stood, he could see the doctor clearly. Tall, long legs, muscles that were earned by more than scientific experiments, spikey hair… the man looked more like a rock star than a scientist.
True to the information in the portfolio, Timothy Heaven made his way to the bar. Bond noticed several of the other partiers make eye contact with the doctor and smiled slightly. There were the guards then. Everything was going according to plan.
Now, Bond just had to seduce the man, inject the tracker, and be on his merry way. He made no secret of the fact that he was watching the other man cross the room. The doctor met his eyes curiously and Bond raked his eyes down the doctor and then back up with a suggestive smile. He intercepted the doctor before he got to the bar.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
“Are you always this forward?” The doctor’s voice was thickly Scottish, but not uninterested.
“Only when I see something I want.” Bond turned and held out his hand, clearing the way to the bar.
“And what do you see that you want?” He sounded amused.
“About six foot and thirteen stone of promise.”
“Hmmm.” The doctor smiled, turning towards the bar long enough to order. “Do I get to know your name?”
“James.”
“I’m Tim.” Tim held out his hand and Bond took it. He was surprised at how warm it was, and how soft. “And I’ll take you up on that drink.”
Bond held on to Tim’s hand a second longer than was proper, and trailed his fingers down the back of his wrist when he let go. “I’ll put it on my tab.”
“I haven’t see you here before.”
“No,” Bond finished his drink and set it on the bar. “I’m here on business.”
“What’s your business?”
“Nothing as interesting as you.” Bond countered, deliberately dropping his voice to a lower timber. He was rewarded with a flair of lust in Tim’s eyes.
“You’re very… aggressive.” Tim swallowed.
“It serves me well.” Bond smiled and watched Tim finish his drink. “Would you like another?”
“Are you trying to get me drunk?”
“Do I need to?” James asked. “I was hoping that you’d be interested without the liquid courage.”
“Oh, I am interested, James.” Tim answered leaning forward. Bond realized the other man’s intentions just seconds before their mouths met. Stiffening in surprise, it took Bond a second before he returned the kiss. Tim’s mouth was warm, but his lips were softer than his hands. Stubble scraped along Bond’s jaw and he gasped at the sharpness of the sensation.
Tim’s hand climbed up Bond’s chest, fingers tangling in the fabric and pulling Bond closer. Bond relaxed, and Tim licked Bond’s lower lip, before pulling back. “Do I not seem interested?”
Bond smiled. “I could be convinced that you’re interested.”
“Here.” Tim took Bond’s hand and guided it to his own crotch. Bond felt the doctor’s erection easily. “Does that help?”
“It helps.” Bond’s voice cracked slightly. He was surprised at his own reaction. On one level, sex was sex, but it still surprised Bond to realize that he wasn’t immune to the doctor’s charms.
Tim chuckled. “Normally, I don’t have a lot of luck in this bar. But every once in a while, someone comes along and I just… can’t walk away. Come with me?”
Bond opened his mouth to agree, but Tim’s hand against his own hardening erection eliminated his ability to speak. He nodded instead and Tim grinned. “Pay the tab then. I’ve got a limo outside.”
Bond tossed some money on the bar and followed Tim out to the limo. “Nice car.”
“I prefer the Mercedes,” Tim confided opening the door and climbing inside. He leaned back on the car seat and grinned. “Are you coming?”
“I’d better be, before long.” Bond growled, climbing inside and pulling the door after him.
************
“Bond.” M’s voice stopped him before he left MI headquarters. “I wanted to talk to you for a moment.”
“What about?” Bond asked, going to stand beside her.
“These.” M handed him a folder and he flipped it open curiously.
For a long moment, he flipped through the photographs in silence. “Where did you get these?”
“Does it matter?”
Bond stared at the last photograph and shook his head. “No, I suppose not.”
“You did your duty.”
“Yes, I did.” Bond replied, closing the folder and handing it back. “Good night.”
“Good night, Bond.” M replied, watching as Bond left the building and went into the cool night air.
Bond shook his head. Few things in his job got to him any longer. Still, he wondered how long it would be before the image of Timothy Heaven, dead behind the wheel of his Mercedes, would leave him.
Fandom: James Bond
Pairing: Bond/OMC
Prompt: 108 - dead at the wheel at
tamingthemuseWarnings: Slash.
Rating: Teen.
Summary: Not much in Bond's job gets to him anymore.
Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, but I wish I did.
A/N: Unbetaed.
As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated.
*************
"We need you to plant a tracker on the target without alerting him." M's voice was dry and to the point as she passed over a dossier. Bond opened the folder and took a look at the target.
Dr. Timothy Heaven smiled up from his photograph. He looked too young to be a research scientist in Glasgow, Bond thought. The doctor kept his hair short, but the hint of blonde highlights in the otherwise dark hair belied the suggested casual nature of the man's good looks. Bond kept his face impassive, betraying nothing of his thoughts. "What sort of tracker?"
"It's here," M gestured to a small hypodermic syringe lying on her desk. "Inject this into him, anywhere, and we can follow his movements for the next two weeks. That should be plenty of time."
Now Bond frowned. "What aren't you telling me?"
"Why do you think that I'm keeping something back?" M asked, turning slightly, one eyebrow rising in silent challenge.
"Because this job doesn't require that much skill. Anyone on the street can inject anything into a person without much trouble. Why did you specifically request me?"
"He's not the usual sort we'd send you after, true." Her lips quirked in brief amusement. "He's not your type, but you're definitely his."
She waited a long moment, her eyes searching Bond's. "Do you have any questions?"
"No."
Twenty-four hours later, Bond nodded at the bouncer who stood guard outside a deceptively nondescript looking club. The guard flicked his eyes over Bond and stood aside, apparently deciding that Bond met whatever qualifications were necessary to gain admittance.
Dressed casually, but expensively, in Gucci, Bond didn't even look around the club once he passed through the door. He had read about it on his flight, and according to the intelligence information he had, Dr. Timothy Heaven would arrive at some point in the next two hours, seemingly alone. The good doctor would drink a dirty martini quickly, and then order a second one to enjoy more leisurely. He didn't dance. He didn't made advances of his own, and he rebuffed most of the advances made towards him.
Only someone who was really paying attention would realize that some of the revelers in the club weren't enjoying their evening out. Some of the crowd spent most of their time watching the doors and other patrons suspiciously, doing their best to keep Dr. Heaven alive and healthy.
Most Friday nights ended with Dr. Heaven leaving, again seemingly alone, only to be swept back into his heavily guarded limousine and taken back to a safe house. The security was pretentious for someone who was a mere research scientist, but according to Bond's information - and his own suspicions - Dr. Heaven's work on retroviruses made him more than a mere research scientist. And his connections with the Saudi government made him an interest to the British government. It wasn't Bond's job to question why, just to plant the tracker.
Reaching the bar, Bond ordered a martini, frowning at the memory of M's amused smile. Dr. Heaven's proclivities were already well known to the Crown and M wasn't above whoring her people out to get the job done. If Dr. Heaven was attracted to three foot tall green women, M would have produced one. It was just Bond's luck that Dr. Heaven preferred his bed partners to be tall blonde men.
Turning, he leaned back and scanned the bar with interest. Al of the patrons were men, and most were well dressed and moved with the confidence inspired by powerful jobs. A few of the men met Bond’s eyes with questioning glances, but he shut them down without a word and they went on about their business. They were looking for a good time, and something in Bond’s expression promised more trouble than he was worth.
Finally, just when Bond began to wonder if Dr. Heaven had made alternate plans, he saw the door open. The man’s picture didn’t do him justice – he was truly handsome. From where Bond stood, he could see the doctor clearly. Tall, long legs, muscles that were earned by more than scientific experiments, spikey hair… the man looked more like a rock star than a scientist.
True to the information in the portfolio, Timothy Heaven made his way to the bar. Bond noticed several of the other partiers make eye contact with the doctor and smiled slightly. There were the guards then. Everything was going according to plan.
Now, Bond just had to seduce the man, inject the tracker, and be on his merry way. He made no secret of the fact that he was watching the other man cross the room. The doctor met his eyes curiously and Bond raked his eyes down the doctor and then back up with a suggestive smile. He intercepted the doctor before he got to the bar.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
“Are you always this forward?” The doctor’s voice was thickly Scottish, but not uninterested.
“Only when I see something I want.” Bond turned and held out his hand, clearing the way to the bar.
“And what do you see that you want?” He sounded amused.
“About six foot and thirteen stone of promise.”
“Hmmm.” The doctor smiled, turning towards the bar long enough to order. “Do I get to know your name?”
“James.”
“I’m Tim.” Tim held out his hand and Bond took it. He was surprised at how warm it was, and how soft. “And I’ll take you up on that drink.”
Bond held on to Tim’s hand a second longer than was proper, and trailed his fingers down the back of his wrist when he let go. “I’ll put it on my tab.”
“I haven’t see you here before.”
“No,” Bond finished his drink and set it on the bar. “I’m here on business.”
“What’s your business?”
“Nothing as interesting as you.” Bond countered, deliberately dropping his voice to a lower timber. He was rewarded with a flair of lust in Tim’s eyes.
“You’re very… aggressive.” Tim swallowed.
“It serves me well.” Bond smiled and watched Tim finish his drink. “Would you like another?”
“Are you trying to get me drunk?”
“Do I need to?” James asked. “I was hoping that you’d be interested without the liquid courage.”
“Oh, I am interested, James.” Tim answered leaning forward. Bond realized the other man’s intentions just seconds before their mouths met. Stiffening in surprise, it took Bond a second before he returned the kiss. Tim’s mouth was warm, but his lips were softer than his hands. Stubble scraped along Bond’s jaw and he gasped at the sharpness of the sensation.
Tim’s hand climbed up Bond’s chest, fingers tangling in the fabric and pulling Bond closer. Bond relaxed, and Tim licked Bond’s lower lip, before pulling back. “Do I not seem interested?”
Bond smiled. “I could be convinced that you’re interested.”
“Here.” Tim took Bond’s hand and guided it to his own crotch. Bond felt the doctor’s erection easily. “Does that help?”
“It helps.” Bond’s voice cracked slightly. He was surprised at his own reaction. On one level, sex was sex, but it still surprised Bond to realize that he wasn’t immune to the doctor’s charms.
Tim chuckled. “Normally, I don’t have a lot of luck in this bar. But every once in a while, someone comes along and I just… can’t walk away. Come with me?”
Bond opened his mouth to agree, but Tim’s hand against his own hardening erection eliminated his ability to speak. He nodded instead and Tim grinned. “Pay the tab then. I’ve got a limo outside.”
Bond tossed some money on the bar and followed Tim out to the limo. “Nice car.”
“I prefer the Mercedes,” Tim confided opening the door and climbing inside. He leaned back on the car seat and grinned. “Are you coming?”
“I’d better be, before long.” Bond growled, climbing inside and pulling the door after him.
“Bond.” M’s voice stopped him before he left MI headquarters. “I wanted to talk to you for a moment.”
“What about?” Bond asked, going to stand beside her.
“These.” M handed him a folder and he flipped it open curiously.
For a long moment, he flipped through the photographs in silence. “Where did you get these?”
“Does it matter?”
Bond stared at the last photograph and shook his head. “No, I suppose not.”
“You did your duty.”
“Yes, I did.” Bond replied, closing the folder and handing it back. “Good night.”
“Good night, Bond.” M replied, watching as Bond left the building and went into the cool night air.
Bond shook his head. Few things in his job got to him any longer. Still, he wondered how long it would be before the image of Timothy Heaven, dead behind the wheel of his Mercedes, would leave him.
