Fandom One shots and Imagines

A Little Trust - James Bond

You worked as an analyst in the back office of a non-descript accounting firm in the outskirts of London. You came and went on your own time, nodding quietly to those you passed but rarely speaking. If pressed, none of your colleagues would be able to pinpoint just what exactly it was that you did with the firm but they would all agree that you did it well. You were a real asset to the firm.

In reality, you were an analyst but you worked for a very different sort of company. MI6 had agents like you stashed all over the place. Working out of quiet offices in little companies interpreting data and translating conversations. Few knew your true identity or real employer. While the analytical work you performed was important, you were also intended to be the backup should other agents be compromised and unable to go into the field.

A glance at the clock showed it was past time for you to be heading home. You'd spent the day filtering through the chatter from an American terrorist cell and were exhausted. The mental work always seemed to tire you out more than the physical. You opened your door with a sigh and tossed your keys onto the table you kept for just that purpose. Your gaze ran over your dark apartment, skipping briefly over the sofa and the figure on it. Ignoring them, you moved into the room and turned on your stereo, raising the volume perhaps slightly more than usual. Then you made your way to your windows.

After drawing the heavy drapes, only then did you turn on any lights. "Hello, James," you said as you turned to your unexpected guest.

A lopsided smile was his answer as your eyes took an inventory of his injuries. There was a lot of blood but it was obvious from his mannerisms that he wasn't as bad off as he looked. "Are you bleeding on my couch? I haven't even finished paying for it yet."

"I'll buy you a new one." That low, rough voice ran over you, affecting you as it always did.

You made a sound of agreement and moved past him to head to your room. "Stay here. I'll be right back."

You paused in your bedroom only long enough to lay your jacket on the bed and kick off your shoes. Then you headed into the adjoining bathroom and grabbed the medical kit from under the sink. You also retrieved the bowl and rag you used for cleaning up blood.

When you returned to your living room, James was scowling at the glass in his hand. You bit your lip to keep from laughing. Obviously, he'd found the liquor you kept out for unwanted guests. His eyes found yours as you set your things down. "Really, Y/N? This is what you drink?"

"No. Never touch the stuff. It's ghastly."

He blinked a couple of times before grinning and you snatched the glass from his hand. After retrieving your good scotch from behind the faux books on the shelf, you refilled his drink and handed it back to him. He sipped cautiously, his eyebrows raising in surprise and appreciation. You left him to it and stepped into the kitchen to fill the bowl with warm water. When you returned, you sat on the coffee table in front of him and took the glass from his hand. "Shirt off."

His lips twitched but he dutifully unbuttoned his shirt. He winced as he slipped it from his shoulders and pulled at his wounds. You gave him back his drink. "You talk and I'll work. Tell me what the hell happened to you and why you came here instead of going to headquarters."

"MI6 has been compromised," he said immediately.

Your eyes darted up to meet his own startling blue. You saw the truth there then turned your attention back to the knife wound you'd been cleaning. He followed your movements as you prepared the needle and thread to stitch him up. As you began your work, he began to talk.

"I was in a meeting with M when the breach occurred. They hit multiple points in unison. Whoever was behind it knew precisely where to strike to cause the most chaos and damage. I don't know how many we lost. I was focused on getting M and Moneypenny to safety."

You sucked in a breath. "Inside job, then?"

When he didn't answer, you looked up to find him studying you. Finally, he gave a slow nod. "It would appear so, yes."

You nodded and tied off the stitches. "Where else?"

He twisted so you could see the slice on his shoulder. You stood and moved behind the couch so you would have a better angle. "More stitches, I'm afraid," you told him.

He hummed in agreement and you took that as consent to begin working. "Any idea who's behind it?" Your stomach churned at the thought that someone you trusted could do something like this. Would destroy everything you all worked so hard for.

He cleared his throat. "That's why I'm here, Y/N."

"I thought you were here to take advantage of my steady hand and small sutures."

His chuckle rolled through you. God, this man was dangerous in so many ways. "That, too."

You tied off the thread and cut the extra. James's warm hand wrapped around your wrist and pulled you around the side of the couch until you were stood in front of him once more. He settled his hands on your waist as he stood. Your heart started to race and you suddenly found it hard to take a deep breath. The two of you were only inches apart and he locked his eyes with yours. "I need your help."

"Of course," you answered with no hesitation. There was little you wouldn't do for this man. Fortunately, you had managed to keep that particular weakness mostly to yourself. You hoped so anyway.

He shook his head. "Don't take this lightly. It will be only the two of us. We can't trust anyone."

"I'm not taking it lightly, James. But did you really think I would consider sitting on the sidelines while you ran around and had all the fun? Not bloody likely." You arched a brow and he gave you that cockeyed smirk again.

"That's my girl."

"Your girl, huh?"

"Mmhmm." He leaned forward, closing what little distance there was between the two of you. His lips hovered a breath from yours for a moment before he came the rest of the way and kissed you. It was soft, questioning at first, until your arms twined around his neck and pulled him closer. You felt his smile against your lips as the two of you explored each other's mouths.

After a moment, you pulled back and looked up at him. "James?"

"Yes?" he asked as he feathered kisses from the corner of your mouth to your ear. His tongue darted out to pull your lobe between his lips and his teeth grazed the tender flesh there.

You sucked in a breath. "How did you know it wasn't me?"

He leaned back to look at you then, his brow furrowed. "What?"

"How did you know you could trust me? That I didn't have anything to do with what happened?" You were curious as to what had brought this man to trust you above anyone else he could have gone to.

The smile that slid across his face was sure and bemused. "Simple, Y/N. You would never have let me live."

Well, he wasn't wrong.