Category: AU, Modern Setting, Still have powers, spies and secret agents, Humour, British
Summary: MI6 is once again under siege (it's getting tedious if you ask Erik). Lockdown finds Erik stuck in his lab with agent X, the biggest flirt of the agency.
♦ Fic-A-Week Project 2014 - Week 36
♦ Secret Agent Man Part 3
Notes: Keep in mind that in this 'verse, Erik works as genius engineering Quartermaster at MI6 and Charles is the insufferable, proper English spy. I'm not sure who's in more danger, those two or the rest of the world. Erik's always keeping Charles at an arm's length, for his own reasons as well as for the hell of it. And possibly because he knows Charles loves a challenge.
This sub-series is also slowly turning into the cheesiest list of Briticisms ever. I have never made more tea jokes in my life ;)
Addition notes: Translation into Chinese available: Agent X, your British is showing by ximeria by Rachel_Er
Word count: 1,423
"Really, Erik." Agent X slumped against the wall next to the door as it clicked shut and the lock engaged. "We're under lockdown, and I'm not the enemy."
Erik barred his teeth in a mirthless grin. Waving his hand the metal tools from his workbench returned to their rightful places. "Lockdown means someone tried to get in."
"Someone did, several someones," Agent X said quietly, limping from his spot over to where Erik was standing. He caught him just in time as the man's knees buckled and he nearly fell headlong at Erik's feet. "Bullet grazed my thigh. Not close enough to any artery, but it's a bloody inconvenience."
Erik realized that he could smell the tang of blood and his sensitivity to metal told him that there was indeed blood running down the agents leg, making his black trousers cling to his skin.
"Second time in as many months," Erik growled as he half boosted X up onto his work table, a scalpel whipping over from its spot to cut the trouser leg open. It was a bit more than a grae and was bleeding a lot more than Erik liked. Well, being his damned efficient self and it being a rule at the facility, he had a full first aid kit and at least X kept quiet while he watched Erik clean and dress the wound.
The silence only lasted until Erik had wiped away the blood and wrapped a bandage around X's thigh. "Hank said you were ripping everyone a new one earlier," he said conversationally.
Erik snorted. Typical X to small talk while they were knee deep in trouble. He wiped blood off his hand and a few spatters that had landed on his metal arm. "If by 'Hank' you mean McCoy, I was telling them to stop being stupid and acknowledge the fact that you use the metric system. Granted, only about 4% of you know this."
X chuckled. "We're british - we don't hate the metric system like the yanks do, but would rather not admit to knowing that we use it."
Erik huffed. "You are easier to work with than the Americans. Even if you are a little too picky with your tea." He brushed his thumb over the white bandage, reaching out with his gift to see if anyone was on the other side of the door that had initiated lockdown the moment X had shut it.
X leaned forward, leaving only a small gap between them, his blue eyes looking right through Erik. "The average British one year old knows how to make tea better than the average American."
Erik slid his hand up to put a finger between their lips when X tried to close the last few inches. The metal of his artificial limb was cool against his own lips and X's lips were scorchingly hot against the other side of his finger.
"Banter will only get you so far," Erik warned him, barely fighting a grin. Apparently X was immune to the toothy grin that had most agents and coworkers scattering whenever he used it.
There was the sound of commotion outside the door and Erik felt the movement of metal on the other side.
"I can't feel anyone out there - so they're shielded," X said, licking his lips, tip of the tongue almost electic against Erik's finger.
X put a hand on Erik's arm, warm against the metal. Erik had never been so torn between being glad and annoyed that he'd fitted it with sensors that fed directly into his nervous system. He could of course turn them off, but what would the fun be in that?
"So probably not ours," Erik agreed. The panel where he kept his latest prototype weapons slid silently aside behind X.
"Probably not," X echoed. "Out of curiosity," he continued as he accepted a hand down and the lightweight rifle Erik handed him. "How far will it get me?"
"If it's witty and not too cheesy," Erik said absentmindedly as he felt out the most efficient of his knives and stilettos in the compartment, "almost halfway."
X drew in his breath sharply. He looked a little shaky as he put a little more weight on his injured leg. "That far, Quartermaster?"
"If you play your cards right, Agent, yes." Erik flicked his hand and the table X had been sitting on toppled over, its metal enough for initial cover. He made sure to position it in a way that they could make it to the escape chute in the corner. He hoped it wouldn't be necessary, because it would necessitate far too much climbing for X and while he might be a pro and would put up a brave face, Erik knew damned well that the leg wound would get worse.
It never crossed Erik's mind to just leave X there. Wasn't his style. Besides, he disliked having his domain invaded by outsiders. The resident agents and scientists were bad enough. Not to mention that HYDRA had tried something similar just last month.
He looked over to watch X familiarize himself with the weapon he'd been handed and had to admit to himself that the man was more than half competent. So maybe a little more than halfway.
X's eyes went unfocused for a moment. "M says they're on their way. To not let them get through to your lab. Apparently you have something here that they want dearly."
Erik huffed. He had a fairly good idea what they were after. He was MI6's top tinkerer afterall. The weapons and defensive gadgets he'd cooked up since signing on had become quite legendary.
"Don't rest on your laurels, my dear," X muttered, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he positioned himself comfortably and kept an eye on the door that was now making ominous sounds.
"Have we met?" Erik asked drily.
X chuckled but didn't answer.
"ETA on M and the troops?" Erik asked conversationally, half watching X, half watching the door.
"Around two point four minutes," X drew a deep breath. "ETA on our door going down?"
Erik reached out and let himself feel the structure and integrity of the metal protecting them. He huffed. Of course they didn't have that kind of time. "One point two minutes probably - one point nine if we're lucky."
X put a hand on Erik's thigh and squeezed, let it rest there for a moment. "I'll see you on the other side, then. You can even take me out for tea, if you find my banter worthy enough."
"I wouldn't dream of taking you out for tea - we'd never find a place that would cater to the way you want your tea."
"Just because I know how to make my own tea, doesn't mean I can't slum it," X muttered. "It's a matter of science when to put the milk into the tea. Did you know, my dear friend, that the cause of 3 out of 4 arguments in Britain is over which is the best point to put the milk into the tea?"
Erik snorted again. He wasn't immune to X's charms and he knew very well that he could play hard to get for as long as he wanted. He'd long since realized that X was as tenacious as a terrier although terribly polite about it. And a horrible flirt.
The door groaned and they both turned their focus to it, Erik strangely enough feeling bereft as X let go of his leg. Of course he couldn't operate one of Erik's bigger guns with one hand.
X groaned. "Please, that thought almost begs for-"
"Don't," Erik warned him. "I said witty banter, cheesy one liners will get you back to square one."
X chuckled. "Well, if we do survive this, I suppose you might as well take me home to bed instead of out on the town."
Erik didn't even bother answering as he felt the metal of the door give up and heard the clatter of metal hitting the floor, felt the bits and pieces hitting the table they were hiding behind.
"Just hold your own and we'll see," he muttered, letting the first volley of knives arch over the edge of the table, raining sharp pain and death down over the intruders.
He felt the brush of agreement against his mind, riding on the wave of adrenaline as X skillfully handled the gun, showing their opponents why they had definitely chosen the wrong lab at the wrong time.
All the good jokes that have stats in them are lovingly borrowed from StatsBritain - please follow them on tumblr or twitter. It's a hoot.