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Don't Ask Don't Tell

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Oxford, England, 1997:

Alec, Bond thinks, looks beautiful in the morning sunlight that is spilling into their apartment. 

His hair is golden in the light. It catches his green eyes and makes them shine, or maybe that’s the smile that lights up his face as Bond leans in to kiss him again and then bite at his shoulder lightly, hand going to cup his arse in the process. He laughs, and Bond kisses where he bit, then moves along to the next patch of skin he hasn’t touched in too long. It’s only been a day, really, but after their nine years of separation, even one hour is too much, let alone the seemingly intolerable expanse of the day it’s taken them to get back from the Russian border. Alec’s hands begin to wander from Bond’s back, heading south, and Bond groans as Alec squeezes lightly at one cheek. 

“I told you you needed a partner again,” Alec murmurs as he kisses Bond’s neck, and Bond smiles.

“You were right,” he admits. It had been a close thing, their last mission - too close. If Alec had not been there - if Bond had been alone - 

He refuses to think about it now. He is not alone, not anymore, not since Alec’s return. That’s all that matters, and with that thought in mind, Bond reapplies himself to mapping out every inch of Alec he can reach with his hands and mouth. 

“You’ve got freckles,” he points out as he touches the small of Alec’s back. “Right below your ear, right here.” He licks the spot, and Alec yelps, then laughs. 

“That bloody tickles,” he complains, and then suddenly they’re rolling, switching positions, putting James on the bottom and Alec above him. The position has possibilities, Bond thinks with a certain sense of delight. If he can just convince Alec to ride him -

The phone rings, and Bond groans. 

“Pretend they’ve called a pub,” Alec suggests, and for one moment, James is tempted to do just that. He’s in bed with the man he loves. He’s warm and comfortable and hard as a maypole - 

The phone rings again, and James sighs. He fishes for the compact mobile device he’s left in his trouser pocket and flips it open, bringing it to his ear.

“Bond here,” he says, and Alec gives a disappointed huff. He does not get off of James, however, and the naughty expression on his face does not give Bond much hope for maintaining decorum on this call.

“James? Where are you?” Moneypenny asks, and Alec slides lower on the bed.

“Um - I’m up here at Oxford,” James says, and he has all of a second to prepare himself before Alec waggles his eyebrows and wraps one hand around James’ cock. “Brushing up on a little Russian,” James says over the phone, trying to keep the strangled tone out of his voice as Alec begins moving his hand up and down. 

“Little?!” Alec asks in a scandalized tone from the region of James’ groin, and this time Bond can’t help the squeak that escapes him as Alec’s mouth replaces his hand. He retaliates by burying his hand in Alec’s hair and squeezing lightly, just enough to convince his lover to remove his mouth from James’ more tender bits. He’s grinning, blatantly unrepentant, and Bond gives him a half-hearted glare. 

“Behave!” he hisses, and returns his attention to Moneypenny. 

“Shan’t,” Alec whispers, and Bond shakes his head. 

“You’re going to have to kiss off your lesson,” she says, and James flops back against the bed. “We’ve got a situation here at the Ministry of Defense. We’re sending the fleet to China,” she continues, and that’s the final straw that convinces James that he is, indeed, going to have to postpone this particular attempt to make Alec scream his name. 

“Uh huh. I’ll be there in -” he checks his watch. If he leaves in half an hour, he can still make this afternoon worthwhile for them both and appease MI6, surely. “-an hour,” he says, and he can just about hear Moneypenny shaking her head down the phone.

“Make that thirty minutes,” she says. James sighs. 

Back to work, love,” he murmurs in Russian. Alec scowls and reaches for his clothes. 

“You always were a brilliant analyst, James,” Moneypenny says, and hangs up. 

There is silence in the room for a moment. Alec and James look at each other, a look of mutual disappointment on their faces and then Alec’s phone begins to ring as well. He raises it to his ear, still looking at James. 

“Yes?” he asks, and Moneypenny’s voice sounds again. 

“006, we’ll want you at the Ministry of Defense in half an hour,” she says. “If you should see Bond, tell him not to linger.” 

She hangs up again, and there is another second of silence before - 

“Analingus, Moneypenny, really?” James asks. It’s a bit of a stretch, but knowing Moneypenny - 

Brilliant analyst. Linger. She knows. She absolutely, definitely knows, and she’s teasing them about it. Bond can’t help but smile at Alec, who is still staring at his phone. 

“Did she really just call me to finish her joke?!” Alec asks, and Bond can’t help it - he starts laughing. He does not stop while he pulls on his clothing, nor even when he helps Alec into his. Alec joins him, and they go to their car still giggling. 


London, England, 1997:

Moneypenny hangs up the phone for the second time. She turns, and finds M standing behind her. There is a look on the older woman’s face. She knows, Moneypenny thinks. She knows where Bond is, and where Alec is, and what they are to each other, and she won’t say anything, but just in case - 

“Don’t ask,” Moneypenny pleads, and M gives her a soft, sad little smile.

“Don’t tell,” she answers, and they move along with the business of preventing a war.