Chapter Text
Alex would like to say he thought about the consequences of handing in that assignment, but that would be a lie. For so long he’d been just a troubled kid, that none of his actions ever made an impact of concerned teachers or adults. So, when the creative writing class asked for a biographic piece, and he handed in a paper taking the mick out of the MI6 office he thought nothing of it. Really, he didn’t! He used to hand in shit like that all of the time, and since his teachers either didn’t take him seriously, didn’t read it, or had a lot of pity for him, nothing ever came of them. So, not even a fleeting moment did he think this might be a bad idea.
At least not until his TA gave him a failing grade with notes saying to read the instructions more carefully next time. He showed the grade and paper to Tom, who promptly lost his shit laughing and then lost it even further and started sputtering that Alex should just ask Jones to help him challenge the grade. Of course, this was intended as a joke, said through giggling breaths and sarcastic commentary. But then again, Alex was never one to turn down a bad idea, those were his favourite ways to pass the time.
So, a few days later, Alex found himself at the steps of the Royal and General Bank (this time NOT for a mission) with his paper in hand. He had printed it for Jones’ viewing experience because (1) he didn’t want to give her his laptop to read it and chance her snooping, and (2) he knows for a fact that all of his emails go straight into her junk folder. She had made him watch as she marked his email as spam the third time that he had sent her an article about an MI6 conspiracy theory that they both knew was false. His intention was to bother her, and the outcome was more of a bother for him– now whenever he wants something he either has to call the receptionist and argue or walk all the way to headquarters. Looking down at his paper, he sighs. On the metro over he had managed to crumple up the sheets, so it looked more like abstract origami than an actual masterpiece of a paper. He hopes she wouldn’t care too much, he didn’t exactly have the funds or time to go and print a new copy– he was a busy university student for god's sake!
He walked into the bank and waved absentmindedly at the usual receptionist before getting into the elevator. The elevator moved automatically towards Tulips’ floor as Alex went over his paper mentally as he imagined just what he was going to say to her. Hey Jones, I need you to help me challenge a grade. Why? Oh, because I wrote about this place and totally forgot that now people have expectations of me and read my shit only to then assume I’m lying. No big deal, really. It’s not like there was anything TOO top secret in it, anyways.
The elevator dinged and Alex hyped himself up as he walked over to her office. He stood at her door, going to knock before stopping multiple times before he heard a sigh, “Alex I know you’re there. Just get in here already, you’re spiking my blood pressure already. And that mess in your hands better not be a bomb, I don’t want a repeat of your last visit.”
Alex huffed before shoving the door open. “It wasn’t my fault someone had strapped a small explosive to my shoe. How was I supposed to know?” He sat down in the chair across from her and laid his paper (now shaped oddly like a dove) on her desk. Jones sucked absentmindedly on a peppermint and raised an eyebrow at him before sighing and unfolding it.
After a few minutes she huffed, “A grade appeal then?”
“Is the most appealing option, yes.”
She glared at him before tossing his paper back at him. “It’s not that inaccurate actually, why do you never put that type of effort into your mission reports?”
“Mission reports don’t get me a degree.”
“It’s only your job.”
“Was my job.”
“Still is, technically, if you want me to help you with this.”
Alex leaned back and kicked his feet up on her desk. “Always a cost with you lot, isn’t there?”
“Nothing in life is free.” She batted his feet off the desk and pulled out a file. “It’s nothing big, just need you to talk with some people.”
Flipping through the file, Alex winced. “I’m a sacrifice, you’re sacrificing me right now. The price is my life. You’re actually trying to kill me.”
“Don’t be dramatic, if I was trying to kill you, you’d already be dead.” She turned back to her filing cabinet and pulling out and waving around another file, “it’s that or I throw you back into the sandbox. You could use more sun and maybe some time with the military will teach you some manners.”
Alex narrowed his eyes before looking more seriously at the file in his hand. “Talking with losers in suits it is, I’ve always had a way with words. A poet of my time, I’ve been told. A real scribe.” He paused for a beat before continuing, “but the UN conference, really? Did you draw the short straw and just couldn’t find someone to go?”
“Does it matter? I need someone to go and talk to diplomats and you need me to talk to your TA and possibly your professor.”
“That doesn’t feel equal.”
“Take it or leave it, Rider.”
“Taking it, definitely taking it.” He stood up and hopped from one foot to the next, “you’re a real one, Jones. I’ll pull out my suit from graduation and even get Tom to iron it before hopping on the next plane to America. Hey, can I bring Tom? I won’t bring him to the meeting, but he has always wanted to see the Statue of Liberty.”
Jones openned a new peppermint before sighing and tossing him two diplomat passports. “Go to Smithers. When you’re back without an international incident I’ll head to campus with you and sort your mess out.”
Alex smiled and started to exit before he yelled jovially, “Got it, only national incidents!” and quickly shut the door just in time to hear a bang of something hitting the door where his head just was.
After a quick meeting with Smithers ( “Nice to see you, old chap, really such a tragedy with that paper of yours, and it was so well written. My entire department read it for our weekly book club and truly had a great time dissecting your characterisation of your fellow agents, you really know how to give them life. And how’s that boy of yours? His grades are quite magnificent, but his latest project could use better music, do tell him to change it before he hands it in.” ) Alex walked out with a bunch of new gear for himself and Tom. For himself, he walked out with a new communication piece/bomb earring set clipped on, a bulletproof suit, a dart filled watch, and a panic button and laser pen. For Tom, he carried out a tracking necklace with an emergency button, an ipod with live subway and traffic updates, and a fanny pack full of tourist brochures and coupons.
Alex took a too long metro ride, trying his best to look inconspicuous while holding all the new spy gear, before slamming open his door. Tom, cooking a nutritious meal of ramen noodles and chicken nuggets for them, looked over and smiled at his boyfriend. “How did the meeting with the suits go?”
Dumping everything on their shitty dining room table, Alex walked over to Tom and puts his head on his shoulder. “Long. But we’re going to New York.”
Tom snorted and runs his hand through Alex’s hair. “We?”
“Yes, we. I’m going to speak at a UN conference, and you are going to have a blast during reading break exploring the city. Smithers gave me a bunch of coupons and tourist pamphlets for you. Oh, and he says to change the music on your newest project.”
Tom stirred the noodles and snorted, “I knew that project was missing something. Tell him to stop messing with my desktop organization– every time I open my laptop, Feathered Serpent I is in a new place. If they’re going to spy on us, they need to stop being so obnoxious.”
“You still have that fucking game?”
“Look, Cray might’ve been a psychopath and the second game might’ve been a whole sham for nuclear codes, but the first one is innocent and addictive. Plus, I’m getting quite good at it by now, top 100 players in the world now, aren’t I?”
Alex scoffed and pulled back from his boyfriend, “So, you down for a little trip to America?”
Tom turned around and eyed the suit on the table before smiling, “To see you look like a fuckin prick in a suit, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He leaned forward and lightly kissed Alex before pulling back. “Now go get some bowls, dinner is ready. Ramen and chicken nuggets, truly a dinner for kings.”
Alex smiled at his longest and closest friend, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
The next day they found themselves sweating in New York. Tom was in an I Love New York t-shirt with the necklace under his shirt and a fanny pack stocked with the iPod and brochures galore strapped to his waist. Alex, in his bulletproof suit already, put his hands on Tom’s waist and tightened the straps of the bag. “Have a good time, love. Don’t get too lost, and if you need me–”
“Push the panic button, yeah I know, you git.” Tom smiled and pushed Alex away and waved towards the door, “Now go and save the world or whatever they pay you for. I’ll see you at the hotel tonight when you can bitch all about the suits you had to shine the shoes of while I was out exploring.” Tom pulled out a camera from his bag and held it up to take a picture of a pining Alex in a suit before shooing him away again. “Now, leave. You’re ruining my vibes.”
Alex snorted before taking one last look at his boyfriend and heading towards the doors. It was time to leave behind Alex Rider, boyfriend and student, and become Agent Rider, MI6 operative, representative and general badass negotiator.
Alex spent the next couple of hours schmoosing with various representatives from other countries and intelligence agencies. A lot of world leaders were surprised to see a twenty-something-year-old kid representing MI6, but as with politicians, had learned not to question it. Well, most of them.
“So, you’re representing MI6? You?” Some stuck-up loser in a suit asked.
Alex, looking at his glass of champagne and wishing it was something stronger, just nodded. “Yes, I’m a sort of last-resort agent, but I’m good at what I do.”
The man chortled, “And what exactly do you do, agent? ”
Alex was debating whether to just construct a bomb to create his favourite type of light show, or just punch the git in the face. He was saved from deciding when Joe Byrne swung by, “Hey, Rider! Good to see MI6 let you come.”
“Uncle Joe! How’s the wife?”
Joe smiled good-naturedly and hugged Alex. “Well, she thanks you for that new scarf you sent her from your last mission. It’s now her favourite.” The last mission had Alex somewhere in Asia when he had run into a small shop owner handmaking scarves. After Alex saved them from a contrived famine made by a madman, the lady thanked him and gave him a bunch of scarves in gratitude. He mailed one to Joe’s wife, to Jones, of course, Jack, and has the last two hanging by his front door for him and Tom.
The stuck-up suit scoffed, “Mr. Byrne, you know this kid?”
Joe turned to acknowledge the guy and continued his diplomatic smile. “Good evening, Mr. Hallows! Of course, I know Alex. The kid has a 100% success rate, and when relations are good, MI6 lets us at the CIA borrow him for missions.” Joe’s smile turned secretive and he whispered good-naturedly, “Well allegedly that is.” He laughed and the man mirrored him. Joe then said “Oh, my counterparts at the FBI have just arrived, I believe that Karl wanted a word with you. He’s just over there–“ Joe waved absentmindedly at the hallway, “if you wanted to track him down.”
The rude guy beamed for real, and smoothed out his suit before heading out of the room they were in. Joe’s smile dropped, “God I hate that bastard. But, good to see you, Alex. I thought you were retired, though?”
Alex, now smiling for real nodded, “Technically until I finish my degree. But I needed Jones to do something for me, and you know how it is.”
Joe nodded wisely, “Nothing is ever free.”
Hit with a genius idea, Alex asked, “Hey, Joe, do you want to do our last rounds together? You help me not mess up MI6’s image and I can get you out of awkward situations?”
Another person smiled at Joe from across the room and began to eagerly make their way over, “Deal, now help me lose this guy.”
After another couple of hours, and way too many conversations packed with double meanings and disbelieving politicians, Alex made his way back to the hotel, his bulletproof suit (thankfully) gunshot free, and his pockets full of business cards he was going to use as projectiles towards Jones once he gets back to England.
He opened the door to see Tom, decked head to toe in New York merchandise, dead asleep on their bed, sunburnt and satiated. Alex huffs out a quiet laugh and used his years of spy work to undress and get ready for bed in silence. He finished brushing his teeth and changed into some sweats before he slipped into bed beside Tom. Tom stirred, but Alex just quietly ran his hand through Tom’s hair and whispered jumbled apologies. After Tom settled back into slumber, Alex smiles. This was probably the easiest trip he’s done for MI6, and this was hands down the best way to end a mission.
With a smile on his face, he fell asleep and was actually looking forward to the next day.
They woke up, hurriedly packed as they exchanged stories about their days, and rushed to the airport. One plane ride and an Uber later, they ended up in their bedroom sleeping away the time change. The next day, Tom started separating the souvenirs he had bought to give out to their friends, and Alex waved goodbye before rushing off to Royal and General Bank.
A quick wave to the receptionist later, Alex found himself opening Jones’ office door. “I’ve returned, crisisless and ready to absolve me of sin.” Alex chucked the business cards on Jones’ desk and clapped, “Let’s get rid of that 0.”
Two days later, Alex sat in front of his TA and his professor in a meeting about academic integrity and challenging grades. Alex shifted awkwardly as he was given a dressing down by his professor about lying on papers and giving TAs a hard time about the grade. He didn’t really care about the speech– he knew he was in the right and also knew that it wasn’t their fault for not believing him– no, instead he was waiting for Jones or Crawley or someone (even Wolf!) to show up. They always did love being fashionably late when it came to giving him backup.
Just as his professor was reaching a crescendo, the door opened and in walked Jones, Crawley and two other guys in suits Alex had never met before. The two checked the room before nodding and slipping outside to stand outside the door. Jones and Crawley sat on either side of him, and Alex felt terribly reminiscent of being in a parent-teacher conference.
The professor sputtered, “Who are you two?”
Crawley opened up a briefcase that Alex didn’t even notice he was carrying, and brought out two copies of the Officials Secrets Act, “Please sign these before we move forward.”
The two eyed it warily, and as they read their eyes got progressively wider and they signed it with shaky hands. Jones, who was previously typing on her phone, then looked up as Crawley took the papers and nodded respectfully to Jones before he exited the room. Jones began, “Pleasure to meet you, you can call me C . I’m here on behalf of MI6 because one of our agents, Rider, made an error and begged me to ensure sure he wouldn’t fail this class.”
“Hey!” Alex protested but quieted down again when Jones glared at him.
“I have personally read his paper and will attest to its truth. He was well within the guidelines of the assignment and should be re-graded as such.”
The professor gaped and stuttered, “Why are you doing this?”
Jones just crunched down on a peppermint, “Rider is the nation’s worst-kept secret, but still, he’s quite valuable. If he fails this class, he will take his extended leave–“ Alex interrupted with a ‘retirement’– “for another school term and the world will be ever the more dangerous because of it.” Jones then grabbed her phone and typed up another message before standing to leave. “So, do re-grade it. He’s obnoxious when he feels as if he’s been wronged.” Jones snapped her fingers like Alex was a dog, “Come, Alex. The quartermaster has requested your presence.”
Alex just smiled (slightly smug, slightly apologetic) at the two before giving Jones an annoyed eye-roll and standing. He knew Smither didn’t need to talk to him, he had left a written document on Tom’s computer about seeing Alex in a year or so, and that he immensely enjoyed the new jazz tune Tom had overlayed onto his film project. He suspected that Jones just didn’t want to be in there any longer, so he bounded after her.
“C?” Alex questioned after they left the room. “That’s not your name.”
Jones snorted and opened another peppermint. “It’s my codename. As yours is Cub or Rider, mine is C. It’s the way it has always been for the head of the department. Before me, Blunt was C, and after me my successor will also be C.”
“Strange. But thanks for helping me out…” Alex nodded at Crawley who appeared next to them. He then smiled at Jones, “See you in a year or so?”
Shaking her head, Jones briefly smiled, “Would still be too soon. Stay out of trouble, Alex.”
Alex waved at them and ran down the hall to his next class. Three days later he got a notification for a new grade, a solid 92% stared back at him. He beamed and when he showed Tom the two celebrated with cheap wine and lovestruck hands.
Later that night, lying in bed, Alex just smiled at the ceiling. Maybe MI6 wasn’t that bad all of the time… his heart rate spiked in anticipation as he started thinking about being back in the field in a few years’ time. While he missed it, the danger and adrenaline, he was going to cherish the quiet as much as he could. Just him, a normal civilian life, too much schoolwork to have a healthy social life, and the love of his life in his arms.
Content, Alex drifted off to sleep and he dreamt.