#weathered-and-worn

[starvalisedham]

Hello! For the Six Word Sunday thingy, may I request #27. Holding hands, for Yassen Gregorovich from Alex Rider? :>

I'm a day late, but please enjoy my take on some Yassen (and Alex!) hand-holding. I tried to make it domestic, but... it's Yassen and Alex. Is it really a fic of those two without some casual bloodshed and a near death experience?

***

The man who haunted Alex's waking nightmares was dying on the ground before him, his laboured breaths the score in which Alex's own thundering heart followed with frightening ease, and it was to that very music of threat and blood and danger that Yassen Gregorovich tells Alex to find Scorpia, thus turning his secret part-time teenage spy life into a frantic search for the real, unblemished, unedited truth.

Alex Rider, son to the hero John Rider (and nephew to the murdered agent Ian Rider), once held Yassen's hand as the man lay dying, spilling blood and secrets both, their connection a feeble stopgap for what they really needed: time, privacy, and urgent medical assistance.

Fast forward to the destruction of an entire international crime syndicate, a handful of growing years, and a long-deserved break into being a Average Law-Abiding Citizen later, Alex found himself holding Yassen's hand once more.

"Fancy getting a curry tonight?" he asked.

Yassen, retired hired gun that he was, saw through Alex's play at domesticity. "My place or yours?" he replied, a small, contented smile tugging at the secret corner of his eyes.

day twenty-seven: holding hands (@domaystic)