đŠDuck Theft || James Bond ||
A/n: Dad James with two chaotic twins, thank you @runneski of the twin suggestion.
And go my lovely moot and the others that liked the idea of Reader being ADHD
The afternoon had been Jamesâs idea.That fact alone should have warned him.
After years of surviving impossible missions, avoiding assassins, and dismantling criminal organizations across half the globe, James Bond had made the fatal mistake of believing a simple family outing to a London park would be relaxing.
The sun was warm without being insane, a light breeze rustled through the trees, and children played across the wide grassy fields while families occupied picnic blankets scattered throughout the park. It was peaceful. Ordinary. Exactly the sort of thing you loved.
Which was precisely why James should have known it would end in disaster.
You sat comfortably beneath a large oak tree, sunglasses perched atop your head as you absentmindedly scrolled through your phone. Your ADHD had already pulled your attention through approximately seventeen unrelated topics in the last ten minutes, ranging from whether penguins had knees to why ducks walked the way they did.
The twins, meanwhile, had been entrusted with feeding themselves crackers while staying within eyesight.
A decision James was rapidly beginning to regret.
His attention drifted toward the nearby pond where dozens of ducks floated lazily across the water.
Then he noticed his son staring at the birds.
That, by itself, wasnât concerning.
What concerned him was the look.
The one that appeared right before something expensive broke or someone ended up trapped somewhere they absolutely shouldnât be.
His son glanced toward his sister.His daughter glanced back.
The twins exchanged a silent conversation only siblings could understand.
James immediately sat up straighter. âOh no.â
You looked up from your phone. âWhat?â
âThe children just had an idea.â
You followed his gaze toward the pond. âTheyâre just looking at ducks.â
James pointed. âTheyâre plotting.â
Before you could respond, your son announced loudly, âMama says ducks need snacks.â
You lowered your phone. âWhat?â
The twins were already climbing to their feet, brushing dirt off their knees. "Mama says ducks get lonely.â
âI did not say that.â
âThey need friends,â your daughter added helpfully.
You frowned. âI definitely didnât say that either.â
Unfortunately, facts had never been particularly important to four year olds.
By the time either parent fully processed what was happening, the twins had already sprinted toward the pond.
The sound was one of a man who had infiltrated enemy compounds with less concern than he felt watching his children run unsupervised toward wildlife.
âStay here,â he muttered.
You laughed. âGood luck.â
He shot you a look.The look of a husband who knew his wife found his suffering amusing.
You smiled sweetly.....It was not reassuring.
James crossed the grass toward the pond, expecting to discover the twins feeding ducks.
Possibly attempting to hug ducks.
What he found was significantly worse.
Several ducks had gathered around the twins near a small path leading toward the parking lot.
His son was scattering cracker crumbs like a tiny criminal mastermind.
His daughter was enthusiastically waving her arms.
Then his eyes followed the direction they were leading the birds.
His new DB12 Aston Martin that MI6 had kindly gifted after the twins were born.
A horrifying realization settled over him. "No.â
His daughter looked up brightly. âDaddy!â
His son pointed proudly toward the vehicle parked nearby.
âWeâre taking them home.â
James closed his eyes.For a brief moment he considered pretending he didnât know them.
When he opened them again, the situation had somehow deteriorated further.
One duck had already reached the car.
A third appeared interested. "QUACK!!"
âWhy,â James asked carefully, âare you taking the ducks home?â
The twins looked at him as though he had asked why water was wet.
âBecause they donât have a house.â
âThey live in the pond.â
James pinched the bridge of his nose.
His daughter pointed dramatically toward the Aston Martin.
âThat can be their house.!!"
âIt absolutely cannot.â
âIt....it is not that big!!.â
His son considered this then he asked, âCan they live in Uncle Monroe's house?â
The suggestion was ridiculous enough to break through his frustration.Then movement inside the car caught his attention.
One of the ducks was sitting in the passenger seat.
James stared, the duck stared back with its tiny beady eyes.
His daughter beamed. âWe got Trevor inside.â
The duck quacked, its body puffed.
James genuinely wasnât sure whether it was introducing itself or mocking him.
Behind him he heard familiar laughter.
Turning around, he found you approaching across the grass, already struggling to contain your amusement.
The moment you spotted the duck sitting comfortably inside the Aston Martin, you lost the battle entirely.
Your laughter echoed across the park. âOh my God.â
James stared at you. âYou think this is funny.â
âI think it's hilarious."
âOur children have stolen a duck.â
âThey havenât stolen it.â
The duck remained in the passenger seat.
You tilted your head. "Actually⊠they might have stolen it.â
The twins seemed delighted by this possibility.
âWe adopted him,â your son corrected.
âWe saved him,â your daughter agreed.
Trevor chose that exact moment to flap his wings, feathers getting everywhere.
James moved toward the car.
The duck immediately lunged.A sharp beak connected with his hand.
James jerked backward. "Bloody!-"
You nearly collapsed laughing. âDid that duck just attack James Bond?â
The worldâs most dangerous spy looked down at the tiny red mark on his hand.His expression was completely blank.
Which somehow made it even funnier.
The twins rushed to Trevorâs defense immediately.
âHe thought Daddy was a threat.â
âHe was protecting us.â
James stared at his children. âYou recruited a bodyguard.â
The twins looked incredibly proud of themselves.
You finally managed to compose yourself enough to wipe tears from your eyes. âI have to admit,â you said, stepping beside him, âthatâs kind of impressive.â
James sighed heavily as he looked between his laughing wife, his criminally inventive children, and the duck occupying the passenger seat of a vehicle worth more than most peopleâs homes.
Somewhere along the way, his life had transformed from international espionage into whatever this was.
Oddly enough, he wouldnât have traded it for anything.
Even if it meant negotiating with a duck named Trevor in the middle of a London park.
