James

Commander James Bond. SIS Agent 007. Licence to Kill. Status: Active.

[inastonswithlove]

"I know, but I enjoy cooking. I don't have a chance to do it often so I'm going to enjoy it."

As Malcolm had pottered about collecting his paper and such, James had made a start on breakfast. French toast, yogurt honey and fresh fruit, the perfect way to start the day. He looked up from the batter he'd been mixing , wiping his hands on a towel before setting it on the counter.

"I don't really sleep. Not like that."

He stretched as he waited for the pan to heat up, rolling his shoulders as he grabbed the fruit, slicing the strawberries neatly before washing them with the rest of the berries.

[tuckeresque]

Malcolm smiled at that. 'So, I'm going to enjoy it.' When James continued, though, he cast a glance over at the man, eyebrows drawn together.

"I never used tae, myself," said Malcolm. "Then I fuckin' left politics. I was ejected, actually. Nothing about it was my own decision. However, the point is that I suddenly learned how tae actually sleep. Maybe ye can do the same while yer here with me."

Maybe that wasn't the right way to word things, but James would know what he meant. Omit the 'here with me' part and it was perfectly fine. He lifted his coffee mug to his lips, eyes resting on the newspaper as he continued to read.

[inastonswithlove]

He hummed and wiped his hands again before reaching for the bread to soak it in the vanilla, milk and egg mixture.

"Perhaps they needed to take the decision out of your hands. Would you have left on your own? Or would the job have taken you out?"

Once the pan was hot enough he set the bread inside, gently letting it sit in the heat before gently turning it on the pan for an even cook.

"But maybe I can learn a little while I'm here. I won't be heading back out for a while, or I shouldn't be." He had to heal up and rest before they sent him out again. He'd also heard the meaning in the words, the bit that hadn't been spoken.

[inastonswithlove]

James turned when Malcolm spoke, a brow arched as he took a sip of coffee.

"I like cooking," he replied, lowering the cup after another quick sip, eyes taking in the rested look that Malcolm wore. He looked rested and comfortable, dressed as he was. "I've been up since just before dawn. Thought I'd make myself useful, since you're providing everything else, breakfast is the least I could do."

[tuckeresque]

"Yeah, well." Malcolm made his way over to the counter, pouring himself a cup of coffee that was as black as death. "Ye still didnae have tae do all this, but I appreciate it more than I can say."

He eventually sat down at the table, content to let James make them breakfast after fetching the paper. As he flipped through pages and pages of shitty headlines, he began speaking again.

"Why were ye up so early? Ye actually had the chance tae sleep in."

[inastonswithlove]

"I know, but I enjoy cooking. I don't have a chance to do it often so I'm going to enjoy it."

As Malcolm had pottered about collecting his paper and such, James had made a start on breakfast. French toast, yogurt honey and fresh fruit, the perfect way to start the day. He looked up from the batter he'd been mixing , wiping his hands on a towel before setting it on the counter.

"I don't really sleep. Not like that."

He stretched as he waited for the pan to heat up, rolling his shoulders as he grabbed the fruit, slicing the strawberries neatly before washing them with the rest of the berries.

[inastonswithlove]

James sat there for a long while, his mind ticking through everything that had happened that night. It was a lot to be working through, a lot to think about. Eventually he locked up, making sure everything was secure and safe.

He was about early in the morning, stood in the kitchen, the back door open and coffee brewing in the pot. He'd been up long enough to watch the sunrise, leaning against the door with a cup of coffee in his hand. There was food in the pantry and a small collection of fresh fruit on the counter, where he'd been out and bought some supplies intent on making breakfast.

[tuckeresque]

Saturday mornings were for sleeping in, and Malcolm did just that. He was up around nine, stepping into a hot shower and shaving afterward. Then he dressed in a pair of faded jeans and a t-shirt, making his way downstairs in socked feet. The sight that greeted him, however, left him with shocked.

"What the fuck is this?" asked Malcolm, pointing to the fresh fruit on the counter. "Did ye go shopping while I was asleep?" He scratched his cheek, a bit surprised. "And yer fuckin' cooking breakfast, too. Who are ye, mate?"

[inastonswithlove]

James turned when Malcolm spoke, a brow arched as he took a sip of coffee.

"I like cooking," he replied, lowering the cup after another quick sip, eyes taking in the rested look that Malcolm wore. He looked rested and comfortable, dressed as he was. "I've been up since just before dawn. Thought I'd make myself useful, since you're providing everything else, breakfast is the least I could do."

[inastonswithlove]

Before he could fully pull away James reached up and curled his fingers around Malcolm's wrist, holding onto him for a moment. His eyes fell on Malcolm's face and he watched him for a moment, eyes bright.

He wanted to ask if Malcolm could cope with his life. This was possibly different to anything that they'd done before, something bigger, something more. And it was a lot to take on, he was a lot to take on. But Malcolm had just said he was tired, this wasn't a conversation for now. Neither of them were in any kind of mind for it.

"Yeah," he replied, giving Malcolm's wrist a little squeeze. "Sleep tight. I'll lock up." Honestly, he needed to sleep himself, he'd come straight here after he'd landed and he was tired.

[tuckeresque]

Once he was upstairs and sitting on the edge of his bed, he finally let himself think about things, finally let himself feel. He ran his hand through his silver-white hair, a soft sigh tumbling from his lips. Was this wise? Probably not. Did he care? Not in the least.

There had always been this thing between them. And how long had they known each other now? Over a decade, surely. It was about fucking time that something was done about it. If not now, then when? They could think about everything else in the morning. For now, it was enough just to know how James felt, and for James to know how he felt as well. If nothing came of this, at least they knew the truth.

It wasn't the life he would have chosen for himself, and it was shit, but it was still real and it was his. Malcolm wasn't about to complain. James deserved something good, something to call his own, even if it wasn't meant to last or something happened to him tomorrow. He was lonely, and Malcolm could see it written across his face, as plain as day.

Malcolm dozed off that night with that very thought in mind, finally getting a good night's sleep for the first time ages.

[inastonswithlove]

James sat there for a long while, his mind ticking through everything that had happened that night. It was a lot to be working through, a lot to think about. Eventually he locked up, making sure everything was secure and safe.

He was about early in the morning, stood in the kitchen, the back door open and coffee brewing in the pot. He'd been up long enough to watch the sunrise, leaning against the door with a cup of coffee in his hand. There was food in the pantry and a small collection of fresh fruit on the counter, where he'd been out and bought some supplies intent on making breakfast.

[inastonswithlove]

James watched Malcolm silently after that, gaze tracking him as he moved about, cleaning up the small mess they'd made with their meal. Usually he would have offered to help, insisted in fact, since it was Malcolm's home and he was a guest. But he was smart enough to recognise that Malcolm wanted a moment away from this. A moment to settle himself, to work it all out inside his head. Because tonight had been a lot.

"Right," he agreed after a moment, his gaze lingering on Malcolm for a second longer before dropping to his glass once more. "We don't want any more regrets."

Idly he found himself wondering again if his life had been different if he'd be capable of having a normal conversation. Would a conversation like this, with Malcolm, have had a different ending? Would they have even needed a conversation like this? But he was who he was, for better or worse, usually the latter but it depended on the day, really.

Slowly he pushed himself up from the table, making more noise than he would naturally so that he didn't startle Malcolm. He paused behind him, debating, then he spoke.

"I know a lot about regret. So in the spirit of that, I do need to say one thing, just so we're clear, regardless of what might happen in the future. For better or worse, you're important. To me." He thought he'd managed to show it in gestures throughout their strange time together, but he felt like Malcolm needed the words, as simple as they were, right then, perhaps for both of their sakes. But that was all that he was capable of right now. Fate could get fucked if it thought it was taking someone else away from him too.

Leaving it at that he turned and moved back towards the living room to potter about in there, giving Malcolm that time he needed.

[tuckeresque]

Malcolm lingered in the kitchen for a while, his hands resting on the sink after he was finished. He sighed softly, eventually reaching for the rag to dry off.

When he returned to the living room area, he made his way over to James and huffed a soft sigh, feeling rather ridiculous. "Alright, fuck it," he said, although it sounded more like a declaration than anything else. "I'm gonna do something. I wonnae regret it, but ye might."

He came over, bending down to where James was sitting on the sofa, and then brushed a hand over his chest. Their lips met moments later, which was quite a surprise given the circumstances. When he drew away, his voice was softer than before.

"I'm glad I matter tae ye," he murmured, brave as could be. "By now, I think I'd be fuckin' devastated if I didnae. Ye made yer feelings clear. Now, we can forget I ever just did that, if ye'd prefer. It's fine, either way. But I'm exhausted, and I'm gonna head tae bed. Lock up for us, wonnae ye? Feel free tae stay down here and watch some telly. I'll see ye in the morning."

He brushed his hand down James' top, soft and gentle, before drawing away and wandering off.

[inastonswithlove]

Before he could fully pull away James reached up and curled his fingers around Malcolm's wrist, holding onto him for a moment. His eyes fell on Malcolm's face and he watched him for a moment, eyes bright.

He wanted to ask if Malcolm could cope with his life. This was possibly different to anything that they'd done before, something bigger, something more. And it was a lot to take on, he was a lot to take on. But Malcolm had just said he was tired, this wasn't a conversation for now. Neither of them were in any kind of mind for it.

"Yeah," he replied, giving Malcolm's wrist a little squeeze. "Sleep tight. I'll lock up." Honestly, he needed to sleep himself, he'd come straight here after he'd landed and he was tired.

[inastonswithlove]

"Yes." He agreed simply, his eyes sliding from Malcolm for a moment as he considered that. It was so painfully real though, perhaps even Malcolm didn't realise just how true the words were. Something personal. Something real and alive. Some agents left the job behind for this, some never got the chance to have it. It was the harsh reality of their lives and their jobs. But something, someone to come back to? That was worth fighting for.

"And I suppose you do know what it's like from when you were away. Letters only go so far, right?"

He huffed a laugh, "Danger magnet. I can't say that you're wrong. Things do tend to be awful around me. Lots of bullets and explosions usually."

[tuckeresque]

Malcolm's breathing had gone shallow, nerves fluttering inside of him. It was absolutely fucking ludicrous, really. He was an adult. An old man, even. Love shouldn't do this to people his age. And yet...

He squeezed James' fingers before awkwardly drawing away to reach for his glass of wine. He sipped at it, sighing afterward. "Letters. Heh. Cannae say I got a single one of those while I was in prison. Did talk tae my sister and Sammy a few times, though. Jamie as well."

He wished, honestly, that he'd been able to call James somehow. Just to hear his voice. To talk. To give him something to keep him going. He remembered that feeling all too well, no matter how much time had actually passed since then.

"Yer a fuckin' danger magnet. It's fine, though. Really, it is. Yer still alive. Yer here. I'll count my lucky stars for that."

[inastonswithlove]

Following suit as Malcolm withdrew, James removed his own hand, pulling it back across to his own side of the table, palm flat against the wood for a moment. He regarded Malcolm for a moment then dropped his eyes to his glass, aware that his gaze could be quite piercing at times. Both an advantage and a curse, depending.

"Battered but present," he replied, swirling his scotch contemplatively in his glass before taking a steadying sip.

Even where he'd been at the time he'd been aware of Malcolm's situation. He'd wanted to help, of course, but at the time he'd been in no position to. His job, as they both knew, was unpredictable and dangerous. Everything had fallen at very much to wrong time and he'd been unable to reach out. Malcolm probably could have done with the support, but he'd had other people, so that was some comfort.

"I had contacts, you know," he added after a moment, unsure why he was saying this when it wouldn't make a difference now. "I kept tabs on you. I was informed how you were doing while you were there."

It felt important to say, not in so many words, that he cared. Life may have fucked over his ability to rationalise, process and respond to emotions like a normal person, but trauma hadn't totally destroyed him. He was here, after all.

"I can't completely blame my job for that fact either." He mused, taking another sip. "But as long as I keep bleeding I'll keep coming back." It was a strange promise, but he was hoping Malcolm understood what he meant. Blood meant life, he could bleed he was still alive.

[tuckeresque]

"It's alright. Ye didnae have tae tell me that," replied Malcolm, uneasy and uncomfortable with his own simmering, roiling emotions at the moment. He wanted to reach across this table and kiss James within an inch of his life, but he also wanted to bolt from this room. This conversation had reached dangerous territory. Revelations had come to light tonight, and he wasn't sure how James would feel about it in the morning.

He rubbed his temple, sighing. "I dinnae want ye tae think that ye have tae make some sort of grand confession tae me tonight. It's enough just tae know... I mean, it's not, not really, but it'll have tae do. Let's quit while we're ahead, before we might say something we'll regret. I dinnae want this tae be too much for ye."

Regret being the keyword there. It was obvious that there were feelings involved now, on both ends, but they hadn't said how deep it went. He didn't want to scare James away. That was the last thing he ever wanted to do.

With a sigh, he rose from the table wearing a look of shame to begin cleaning up after them, loading the dishwasher and putting away the leftovers in the refrigerator. If his heart was in his throat, so it was. He was an idiot. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd ever wanted something this much, and that was dangerous enough, especially for the poor man sitting at his table. He couldn't afford to have any serious feelings, not in his line of work.

[inastonswithlove]

James watched Malcolm silently after that, gaze tracking him as he moved about, cleaning up the small mess they'd made with their meal. Usually he would have offered to help, insisted in fact, since it was Malcolm's home and he was a guest. But he was smart enough to recognise that Malcolm wanted a moment away from this. A moment to settle himself, to work it all out inside his head. Because tonight had been a lot.

"Right," he agreed after a moment, his gaze lingering on Malcolm for a second longer before dropping to his glass once more. "We don't want any more regrets."

Idly he found himself wondering again if his life had been different if he'd be capable of having a normal conversation. Would a conversation like this, with Malcolm, have had a different ending? Would they have even needed a conversation like this? But he was who he was, for better or worse, usually the latter but it depended on the day, really.

Slowly he pushed himself up from the table, making more noise than he would naturally so that he didn't startle Malcolm. He paused behind him, debating, then he spoke.

"I know a lot about regret. So in the spirit of that, I do need to say one thing, just so we're clear, regardless of what might happen in the future. For better or worse, you're important. To me." He thought he'd managed to show it in gestures throughout their strange time together, but he felt like Malcolm needed the words, as simple as they were, right then, perhaps for both of their sakes. But that was all that he was capable of right now. Fate could get fucked if it thought it was taking someone else away from him too.

Leaving it at that he turned and moved back towards the living room to potter about in there, giving Malcolm that time he needed.

[inastonswithlove]

"Yes." He agreed simply, his eyes sliding from Malcolm for a moment as he considered that. It was so painfully real though, perhaps even Malcolm didn't realise just how true the words were. Something personal. Something real and alive. Some agents left the job behind for this, some never got the chance to have it. It was the harsh reality of their lives and their jobs. But something, someone to come back to? That was worth fighting for.

"And I suppose you do know what it's like from when you were away. Letters only go so far, right?"

He huffed a laugh, "Danger magnet. I can't say that you're wrong. Things do tend to be awful around me. Lots of bullets and explosions usually."

[tuckeresque]

Malcolm's breathing had gone shallow, nerves fluttering inside of him. It was absolutely fucking ludicrous, really. He was an adult. An old man, even. Love shouldn't do this to people his age. And yet...

He squeezed James' fingers before awkwardly drawing away to reach for his glass of wine. He sipped at it, sighing afterward. "Letters. Heh. Cannae say I got a single one of those while I was in prison. Did talk tae my sister and Sammy a few times, though. Jamie as well."

He wished, honestly, that he'd been able to call James somehow. Just to hear his voice. To talk. To give him something to keep him going. He remembered that feeling all too well, no matter how much time had actually passed since then.

"Yer a fuckin' danger magnet. It's fine, though. Really, it is. Yer still alive. Yer here. I'll count my lucky stars for that."

[inastonswithlove]

Following suit as Malcolm withdrew, James removed his own hand, pulling it back across to his own side of the table, palm flat against the wood for a moment. He regarded Malcolm for a moment then dropped his eyes to his glass, aware that his gaze could be quite piercing at times. Both an advantage and a curse, depending.

"Battered but present," he replied, swirling his scotch contemplatively in his glass before taking a steadying sip.

Even where he'd been at the time he'd been aware of Malcolm's situation. He'd wanted to help, of course, but at the time he'd been in no position to. His job, as they both knew, was unpredictable and dangerous. Everything had fallen at very much to wrong time and he'd been unable to reach out. Malcolm probably could have done with the support, but he'd had other people, so that was some comfort.

"I had contacts, you know," he added after a moment, unsure why he was saying this when it wouldn't make a difference now. "I kept tabs on you. I was informed how you were doing while you were there."

It felt important to say, not in so many words, that he cared. Life may have fucked over his ability to rationalise, process and respond to emotions like a normal person, but trauma hadn't totally destroyed him. He was here, after all.

"I can't completely blame my job for that fact either." He mused, taking another sip. "But as long as I keep bleeding I'll keep coming back." It was a strange promise, but he was hoping Malcolm understood what he meant. Blood meant life, he could bleed he was still alive.

[inastonswithlove]

It struck something deep in him to hear Malcolm's words and thoughts on the matter. It was so... Personal. He'd be missed. It had been a long time since someone had meant something so personal. Just for him.

His eyes dropped to their hands and the gentle touch there, revelling in it. He exhaled another slow breath, calming the way his heart seemed to be doing something in his chest.

"Well. I've never had a death wish, not really, not like people seem to think, but I've found more recently that having something to come back to makes a difference."

[tuckeresque]

"Having something or someone tae live for does make a difference," murmured Malcolm, eyes rising take in James' expression. The moment was a precious one, and he vowed to enjoy all of this while he could, despite the fact that all he wanted to do was dash off.

"It's a nice thought, anyway. It helped me a fuckton while I was in prison." He huffed a soft, stupid laugh. "I missed ye that entire time."

He never said as much but he knew James had kept his place safe (and paid for) while he was away in prison. He was thankful for it. His sister couldn't have helped him all on her own. It was too much for her to do.

"And I wouldnae say that ye have a death wish, per se," he laughed. "Yer just a danger magnet is all."

[inastonswithlove]

"Yes." He agreed simply, his eyes sliding from Malcolm for a moment as he considered that. It was so painfully real though, perhaps even Malcolm didn't realise just how true the words were. Something personal. Something real and alive. Some agents left the job behind for this, some never got the chance to have it. It was the harsh reality of their lives and their jobs. But something, someone to come back to? That was worth fighting for.

"And I suppose you do know what it's like from when you were away. Letters only go so far, right?"

He huffed a laugh, "Danger magnet. I can't say that you're wrong. Things do tend to be awful around me. Lots of bullets and explosions usually."

[inastonswithlove]

Unable to quite help himself and letting go for just a moment, releasing his hold on that iron hard control and will, James reached out and let his fingers brush against Malcolm's. Though he was absolutely useless at regulating his own emotions, James was good at reading people and he got the feeling that perhaps they both needed this moment.

"Usually is a good time," he noted, his fingers still curved Malcolm's on the table and he lifted his glass to his lips to take a steady sip of deep amber, regarding the liquid as he swirled it in the glass after, watching as it caught the light.

"Sometimes I miss being here, too." He confessed. He loved his job, loved his country. But he knew that took advantage of him. Here, he was just James. And that was sort of nice.

[tuckeresque]

Malcolm's eyes were resting on their hands, his eyebrows furrowed in surprise. He didn't speak for a moment, couldn't even muster the strength for it, but he released a soft sigh of relief.

"Yer missed," he murmured. "And more than just sometimes."

This conversation had been coming for a long time. Malc understood that, and although it wasn't pretty and it might have ached, it had to eventually happen. Taking a wee chance, he let his thumb glide along James' knuckles and settle just over the space between his forefinger and thumb, sweet and gentle.

"Thanks for always coming back tae me, though."

[inastonswithlove]

It struck something deep in him to hear Malcolm's words and thoughts on the matter. It was so... Personal. He'd be missed. It had been a long time since someone had meant something so personal. Just for him.

His eyes dropped to their hands and the gentle touch there, revelling in it. He exhaled another slow breath, calming the way his heart seemed to be doing something in his chest.

"Well. I've never had a death wish, not really, not like people seem to think, but I've found more recently that having something to come back to makes a difference."

[inastonswithlove]

James stared at Malcolm for a moment, bright blue eyes assessing and considering. His head cocked slightly, processing the response. It was a lot. There was so much there in the literal words and in the more private, secret things woven in with them. Heavy things. Things that were both beautiful and tragic at the same time.

He exhaled a slow breath, his chest tight with something he couldn't really fathom and certainly didn't have the words for. His line of work put the breaks on any further speculation or contemplation of the complex feelings surrounding it, because Malcolm had been quite right. His line of work meant things weren't ever simple, it didn't allow for happy endings. Just endings.

"Thank you," his voice was a low, steady timbre. A deep burr that said some of the things that he couldn't. Shouldn't say.

Exhaling a breath he took another sip of scotch, allowing it to sit on his tongue for a moment, grounding him, then he swallowed.

"It sounds astounding. Company and entertainment without strenuous activity and near death experiences."

[tuckeresque]

"One thing ye will never need tae thank me for is that," Malcolm said softly. "I owed ye my honesty, so there it is. It's all yers."

Everything inside of him ached. It was the closest he had ever come to something since the loss of his wife, and while it was right there in front of him, he still couldn't have it. James lived a complicated life. In the meantime, Malcolm blinked away any tears, feeling a bit silly for it, and cast a glance down at his empty pasta bowl.

"As for the rest, yeah, it'll be a good time. Ye could do with something fun and relaxing for once. Ye need it. Plus, ye know, they miss ye."

[inastonswithlove]

Unable to quite help himself and letting go for just a moment, releasing his hold on that iron hard control and will, James reached out and let his fingers brush against Malcolm's. Though he was absolutely useless at regulating his own emotions, James was good at reading people and he got the feeling that perhaps they both needed this moment.

"Usually is a good time," he noted, his fingers still curved Malcolm's on the table and he lifted his glass to his lips to take a steady sip of deep amber, regarding the liquid as he swirled it in the glass after, watching as it caught the light.

"Sometimes I miss being here, too." He confessed. He loved his job, loved his country. But he knew that took advantage of him. Here, he was just James. And that was sort of nice.

[inastonswithlove]

James paused and cocked his head as he eyed Malcolm across the table, taking note of the change in tone.

"And what am I to you?" He asked before he could think better of it. Before he could talk himself out of it, glutton for punishment that he was. He huffed a laugh and reached to top his glass up again, taking care to fill Malc up too, then sat back, swirling the deep, beautiful amber liquid in the glass.

"Don't answer that, you don't need to. The fact that you let me be here, drink your scotch, bleed over your future and feed me on occasion says enough."

Setting his glass down again he reached for his fork, "What's the plan, then?" Casual dinners weren't something he was usually too experienced with. Posh ones, state ones, dangerous ones, yes. Casual? Not so much.

[tuckeresque]

For a moment, Malcolm was utterly astounded. Startled as well, to be fair. He stared at James, listening as the man rambled on and said that he didn't have to answer that. Blah, blah, blah. The question was a good one, though. Malcolm wasn't even sure of the answer something like that most days.

When James asked what the plan was, Malcolm sidestepped it and answered his previous one, instead. "Whatever ye are tae me should probably be considered forbidden, given what yer line of work is," he replied honestly, never having meant anything more. He met James' eyes, something earnest there in his expression. "In any case, for that very reason, I'll just say that yer my friend. And moreover, my house will always be a safe space for ye."

That might have just been the stupidest fucking thing in the world to say, but he found that he didn't care. It was more than flirting and it always had been. Just this once, he was tired of playing games with the world. He might not have actually said the words, but James was clever and he could easily read between the lines. There was something so gut-wrenching about the way the poor man had asked what they were. It was a vulnerable moment, as if he hadn't even meant to say the words aloud. Of course, he had to muster up a fucking answer for James.

"As for the plan," he soldiered on bravely, "I'll be cooking dinner. They'll come by with dessert, just like they usually do. How's that sound?"

[inastonswithlove]

James stared at Malcolm for a moment, bright blue eyes assessing and considering. His head cocked slightly, processing the response. It was a lot. There was so much there in the literal words and in the more private, secret things woven in with them. Heavy things. Things that were both beautiful and tragic at the same time.

He exhaled a slow breath, his chest tight with something he couldn't really fathom and certainly didn't have the words for. His line of work put the breaks on any further speculation or contemplation of the complex feelings surrounding it, because Malcolm had been quite right. His line of work meant things weren't ever simple, it didn't allow for happy endings. Just endings.

"Thank you," his voice was a low, steady timbre. A deep burr that said some of the things that he couldn't. Shouldn't say.

Exhaling a breath he took another sip of scotch, allowing it to sit on his tongue for a moment, grounding him, then he swallowed.

"It sounds astounding. Company and entertainment without strenuous activity and near death experiences."

[inastonswithlove]

-----

That little smirk at the edge of his mouth deepened and he lifted his glass to his lips, taking a slow, steady sip. Exactly what he wanted to hear. Now they were both naturally flirty men, but there always felt like an extra element of satisfaction when they went at it together. Something different, good.

"You joke but it is a miracle. I'm told frequently that I'm a nuisance, a nightmare and a liability." He paused. "Most of those people I do work with, though."

He set his glass on the table with a soft click and moved his attention back to his food.

[tuckeresque]

"That's just because ye are a nuisance, a nightmare, and a liability," he teased, grinning. "But yer also more than that."

His teasing expression faded away for the time being. "Listen, mate. Ye really do have friends here. Sammy and Jay care about ye. Yer one of my mates. They care about me, and I care about ye. And once they fuckin' got tae know ye ages ago, they were thrilled."

A bit embarrassed, he returned to his dish of pasta as well.

[inastonswithlove]

James paused and cocked his head as he eyed Malcolm across the table, taking note of the change in tone.

"And what am I to you?" He asked before he could think better of it. Before he could talk himself out of it, glutton for punishment that he was. He huffed a laugh and reached to top his glass up again, taking care to fill Malc up too, then sat back, swirling the deep, beautiful amber liquid in the glass.

"Don't answer that, you don't need to. The fact that you let me be here, drink your scotch, bleed over your future and feed me on occasion says enough."

Setting his glass down again he reached for his fork, "What's the plan, then?" Casual dinners weren't something he was usually too experienced with. Posh ones, state ones, dangerous ones, yes. Casual? Not so much.

[inastonswithlove]

-----

A small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth and his eyes sparkled with boyish mischief. Hitching his trousers he settled neatly into the seat on the opposite side of her desk.

"I think I'm quite proud of that."

He settled his forearms against the arms of the chair, hands flexing lightly before he continued.

"Congratulations on your new post. You've certainly got your work cut out for you." He arched a brow. "Which brings me to why I'm here."

It wasn't his usual job, internal affairs were usually handled by MI5, not MI6, he hasn't done much internal work since his days with the Navy.

"I understand you likely have some... Foreign issues, shall we say." He crossed his legs, the perfectly cut fabric of his suit trousers pulling tight. "Talk to me."

[woodvalewrites]

She laughed at the smirk and the pride in his voice regarding the fact that he was his own briefing.

"Ah yes, why you're here." She arched an eyebrow. "This feels a little bit below your paygrade, Mr Bond."

Foreign issues. That was one way to put it.

"I appear to be enemies with the American president, simply for existing."

[inastonswithlove]

-----

"I'm not opposed to getting down and dirty."

James arched a brow at the statement and for a moment he didn't say anything. He'd promised M to try harder lately not to cause an international incident.

"Well." He began at last, smoothing a hand down the front of his shirt. "I shouldn't say I approve, but I do."

M should be pleased that was all he said.

"I'm also pleased to inform you that in light of that information, I'm happy to be at your service right now."

[inastonswithlove]

-----

James watched her for a moment, his head ever so slightly cocked and his impossibly bright eyes tracking her movements. She was tired, that much was clear. But what was also interesting was that she seemed to know exactly who he was. For better or worse, he wondered.

"You know of me then."

At her offer he moved forward, reaching out a hand toward her in greeting. His free hand he unfasted the button of his suit jacket preparing to take a seat.

His lips twitched slightly and his eyes glittered with mischief, "I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing."

[woodvalewrites]

Of course, she was tired. It had been such a long week of preparations and getting set up that she had barely had time to sleep. That was the joy of being a new Prime Minister, she guessed.

"I do indeed know of you, Mr Bond." She laughed, shaking his hand. "You are your own briefing."

[inastonswithlove]

-----

A small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth and his eyes sparkled with boyish mischief. Hitching his trousers he settled neatly into the seat on the opposite side of her desk.

"I think I'm quite proud of that."

He settled his forearms against the arms of the chair, hands flexing lightly before he continued.

"Congratulations on your new post. You've certainly got your work cut out for you." He arched a brow. "Which brings me to why I'm here."

It wasn't his usual job, internal affairs were usually handled by MI5, not MI6, he hasn't done much internal work since his days with the Navy.

"I understand you likely have some... Foreign issues, shall we say." He crossed his legs, the perfectly cut fabric of his suit trousers pulling tight. "Talk to me."

[inastonswithlove]

-----

Arching his brows James held his hands up, palm out in a gesture of appeasement, a tiny, baby smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Alright, no flirting with either of them." He paused. "And you?"

He settled back in his seat, content in that moment as he toyed with his glass as he eyed Malcolm, then he glanced down at the table top.

"Mm, is that so?"

[tuckeresque]

"When I have ever told ye no tae flirt with me?" asked Malcolm, brow rising teasingly. He laughed, though, and continued eating. After a while, he spoke again. "They will be. Believe it or not, people actually like ye. Quite the miracle, isnae it?"

James didn't get it, did he? People enjoyed his company. They wanted him around. Malcolm was on the list.

"Dinnae look so fuckin' shocked, alright? It's true."

[inastonswithlove]

-----

That little smirk at the edge of his mouth deepened and he lifted his glass to his lips, taking a slow, steady sip. Exactly what he wanted to hear. Now they were both naturally flirty men, but there always felt like an extra element of satisfaction when they went at it together. Something different, good.

"You joke but it is a miracle. I'm told frequently that I'm a nuisance, a nightmare and a liability." He paused. "Most of those people I do work with, though."

He set his glass on the table with a soft click and moved his attention back to his food.

[inastonswithlove]

-----

"I'm dying now? I was only getting glassed before." James noted, brow arched slightly. "What if I flirt with Jamie too?"

He ate his own food, enjoying the simpleness of it. Sometimes it was the simple things that just made things better. It was actually rather rare for him.

He nodded at the plan, accepting it even as a part of his brain marveled at the fact that they were making plans. Actual, proper adult plans. Future plans, at that. Which suggested that a part of James planned on being here, on coming back from the next mission intact -or mostly intact at least. And wasn't that something.

[tuckeresque]

"Ye better no flirt with either of them, James. Punching yer gob or killing ye, I dinnae know. But something'll happen for sure."

Whether that possessive note to his voice was for the sake of his friends or something more, he wasn't so sure. He didn't care, either. He was terrified of dissecting it all. They'd kept a healthy distance, hiding behind friendship and playful flirtation before tonight. The game had just changed, and the pieces were strewn across the board.

"They'll be fuckin' glad tae see ye, whenever we can get together."

[inastonswithlove]

-----

Arching his brows James held his hands up, palm out in a gesture of appeasement, a tiny, baby smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Alright, no flirting with either of them." He paused. "And you?"

He settled back in his seat, content in that moment as he toyed with his glass as he eyed Malcolm, then he glanced down at the table top.

"Mm, is that so?"

[inastonswithlove]

-----

James took his own seat across from Malcolm, after collecting them a drink each, eyeing the man across the table.

"I can be persuaded into domesticity sometimes," he replied, reaching for his glass to take a steady sip. "I see the appeal of it, even if I'm not quite capable of staying put for too long."

He was very much like a wild animal that way. Sometimes seeking company and affection but not ready, or not knowing, how to be in one place, safe and warm. Half tame, half feral. That was James.

"We could see how much flirting I could get in before you all decided to kill me."

He flipped Malcolm a cheeky wink.

[tuckeresque]

Malcolm's eyes went rolling, lip curled in amusement.

"I told ye already, mate," he said, "if ye flirt with Sammy, I'll kill ye. Jamie too. We'll tag team it."

Tilting his head, he watched James for a moment and then began eating. Their meal was delicious. Simple, homey, and filling. And bloody hell, he made a good sauce. He could thank his gran for that one. He had all of her recipes, most of which were memorized at this point.

"I'll text Jay later, see when he's free. Sam too. Then I can let ye know."

[inastonswithlove]

-----

"I'm dying now? I was only getting glassed before." James noted, brow arched slightly. "What if I flirt with Jamie too?"

He ate his own food, enjoying the simpleness of it. Sometimes it was the simple things that just made things better. It was actually rather rare for him.

He nodded at the plan, accepting it even as a part of his brain marveled at the fact that they were making plans. Actual, proper adult plans. Future plans, at that. Which suggested that a part of James planned on being here, on coming back from the next mission intact -or mostly intact at least. And wasn't that something.