From Russia with Love


Arthur sat at his desk. The dark, heavy oak a comforting weight as he leaned against it.

He had sent Bond to spy on the Russians. He hated to do it, to put one of his own people in danger, but it was necessary; he had to stay ahead of Alfred and Ivan's feud, even if it was only by a half-step.

He prayed that 007 got in and out safely with the information he needed. Arthur knew that Ivan would have him killed if he was caught, or if the Russian was feeling particularly malevolent, his agent would be tortured into insanity and then returned, a useless, mindless shell of his former self.

Yes, Arthur really hoped that Bond would hurry up and come home again so he could stop worrying about the well-being of his spy.

The distressed-looking aide that had just barged into his office did not bode well for this hope.

"Bond had been captured by the Russians!"

Arthur mentally envisioned his little hope, not wearing the face of James Bond, 007, being led in front of a firing squad and summarily executed.

"Is there any chance for negotiations?" he asked, damage control was necessary, and he might be able to save his agent before Ivan turned him into a gibbering madman, or killed him.

"Yes, actually, one of their people just showed up, said they'd got him, and offered to negotiate. Apparently the Russians grabbed him before he could even get the distress signal off."

"Have the negotiations started then?" he was wondering if any headway had been made and why he was just being told about this now.

"No, sir. Their man will only speak directly to you."

Arthur was taken aback.

"What!?" He wasn't in charge of negotiations; most people didn't even know he existed, except…oh bloody hell, "Who's their man?" he asked, already knowing the answer and dreading it.

"An Ivan Braginsky; we haven't been able to turn up much about him."

Arthur sighed.

"You wouldn't." he mumbled into his hand as he dragged in across his face.

"What was that, sir?"

"Show him in." With that Arthur sat up in his chair, correction his posture from its previous slouch, folding his hands in front of him. The aide left and Ivan was shown in, the large Russian sat down across from him.

"Arthur, you are looking very well." He said in his sweetly childlike voice. Arthur pursed his lips.

"If we might dispense with the formalities, Ivan; what do you want for my agent?"

Ivan looked at him for a moment before reaching across the desk, grabbing him by the lapels, and pulling the protesting Briton into a kiss. A very good kiss.

Arthur bit back a moan; it wouldn't do to let the Russian know he was enjoying this, not in the least. Then Ivan sharply bit his lip and he gasped, letting the Russian slip his tongue into his mouth and do something that made his knees weak and resolve give way. He melted against Ivan's chest and the Russian pulled him the rest of the way cross the desk.

When they finally pulled apart Arthur was flushed and panting and Ivan had an inscrutable but pleased look on his face.

"Wha…What was that all about?!" Arthur stuttered when his mind finally caught up with the rest of him, jumping up from his rather compromised position of straddling Ivan's lap.

"Oh. Your agent has used similar methods on many of my agents so I thought I would test its effectiveness. Da?" With that Ivan smiled his best sweetly fake smile and left a flustered Arthur sitting on his office floor.

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The next day James Bond turned up unconscious in front of British Intelligence Headquarters with a slightly smudged lip-print on his cheek and a note pinned to his lapel.

-~-~-~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~-~-~-~-~-~

Arthur looked down at the note again for the nth time that day, twitching as he once again read the inscription.

"From Russia with Love."

And glaring at the little doodle that he knew was supposed to be a sunflower.

That Bastard.

Bond was going to be severely reprimanded for this. There would be no more of his sort of relations with the Russians!

No matter how gorgeous they were, really.


Written for the Hetalia Kink meme.

Cake-chan