Work Text:
Alex swung the door open angrily. He blamed his horrid jet lag and 32 straight hours of consciousness. He'd literally just dropped his bags and had been starting to climb the stairs when the doorbell sounded. Alex figured the sooner whoever was at the door went away the sooner he could sleep. so tramping back to the door he swung the door wide open to unleash just a portion of his frustration at whoever was there. The person on the other side was unimpressed and shouldered their way in as Alex's anger morphed into incredulity.
"How did you get my address?" Yassen's voice was soft and deceptively calm. Alex knew this meant Yassen was angry and that he shouldn't antagonize him. Alex was also self-aware enough to know that wasn't going to happen.
"I don't have your address. Though clearly, you have mine. Also, come in and have some tea. Tell me how you've been." The petty comments weren't winning him any points with Yassen but they were making Alex feel better. Self-care is important.
"Did MI6 give it to you? Do they have any of my other addresses?"
"First of all MI6 isn't sharing any of your addresses with me whether they have them or not. Nor is it something I have asked them for. They are still pretending you're dead or at least that's what they are telling me." Alex squeezed past the assassin to get to the kitchen if he was going to be conscious for even five more minutes he was going to have tea.
"But I'm not dead. You know that. I know that Blunt knows." Yassen's anger seemed to be draining out of him.
"Yes but he's really deep into this lie and he's not flinching. At this point, I'm treating it like an inside joke. He's so committed to the facade he's had your paper file moved to archives." Alex filled the kettle and turned it on.
"That's hardly going to stop you."
Alex moved to the cupboard and pulled out a mug for himself and then grabbed a second. If Yassen didn't want it then he could leave it but British manners demanded that Alex offer. "Actually it is, archives are a whole different building. It's a little harder to move rooms and rooms of files than 7 desks and a bunch of screens. They actually take security seriously there. I know I tried to follow someone who was making a delivery. It did not go well. I ended up detained and then Blunt took the opportunity to send me to the rainforest where I have been for nearly a month." Alex wanted to sleep for a month as soon as he could get rid of Yassen.
Yassen's face showed something like triumph "So you admit you've tried to get to my file."
Alex didn't even try to contain the eye roll. "It shouldn't surprise you but actual dead peoples' files interested me more. Like my Dad's and Ian's.
A look of horror flashed across Yassen's before his face went blank. "You didn't find it in your uncle's office."
"How could I MI6 took everything work-related." Then Alex's brain caught up. "Are you implying Ian knew your address?
Yassen's long silence was telling, "One of them"
It was Alex's turn to look horrified. "What? How? No, don't answer that. I don't want to know." Luckily for Alex, the kettle clicked off and he had an excuse to turn around. He picked tea for himself and left the boxes out for Yassen to select from if he so desired. Then walked passed Yassen to sit at the dining table. If he sat on the couch he would fall asleep whether he wanted to or not. Best not to get too comfy. Yassen may be in a good mood right now but having an assassin in his house was not conducive to restful sleep.
Yassen joined him at the table a minute later bringing a mug with him. Yassen's next question, asked gently, was unexpected. "Are you sure Ian is dead?"
Alex jerked, sloshing tea in his cup. This conversation has taken a turn to surreal. It was probably the sleep deprivation. "What do you mean? Didn't you..." Alex trailed off unsure how to finish. He stared at Yassen then looked down at his teacup then drained it quickly. Standing up and moving back to the kitchen.
Yassen spoke while Alex's back was turned. "It was dark. It could have been an actor." another pause and then Yassen dropped another bombshell. "He called me Yas. No one else called me that."
Alex had whirled around and nearly lost his balance. He steadied himself on the counter and stared at Yassen not even trying to mask his sheer unbelief. "There's a lot I'm not understanding because of the lack of sleep thing and honestly I wish I was understanding less. Are you saying you and Ian were friends?" Alex didn't wait for a reply that he knew wouldn't come. "I'm going to be working through this mess for weeks with my therapist."
Yassen interjected. "She's an MI6 plant."
Alex waved his hand, "Yes, I know, thank you, so I try and avoid talking to her about actual problems and instead like to feed her BS so I can mess with Blunt. Moving on how many actors go for the dying in someone's place gig? That seems like a niche and ‘dying’ market."
Yassen shrugged, "I've paid someone to die in my place. The payment goes to their family."
Alex slumped again the countertop and cradled his head in his hands. "Wow, well your commitment to the bit is bordering on Blunt's." Alex took a deep breath and centered himself before looking up. "I haven't been to your house London or otherwise. Can you go now? I want to sleep."
"I didn't say you'd been. I got a package. The order form had 'Rider' on it." As Yassen spoke he collected his own untouched cup and moved toward the kitchen.
Alex was so confused, "Order form? For what?"
"A mug Alex," Yassen said dumping his own out and set it in the sink.
Alex decided he didn't care anymore and cryptic assassins with unsettling stories could wait for another day. He lead the way to the door and opened it wide swinging his arm to indicate where he would like Yassen to go. "Well I don't know what you're talking about but I haven't sent you a mug. I've been in the rainforest for the last month and if I knew your address and was going to send anything it would be a glitter bomb."
Yassen paused in the doorway and grimaced as he considered that thought. "That is something you would do." Then thankfully finished exiting and Alex closed the door leaning against it for a moment before setting the deadbolt, the chain, and the alarm. Alex's bed was calling him.
In Ian rider's email inbox, amongst thousands of other unread e-mails, a new message waited. "You're wish.com order has arrived."