A/N: So I haven't updated this in forever. Sorry about that. But I'm updating now, which is good, right?

I'm sorry to announce that this is the last chapter for this fic. And it's more fluff than humour. I'm sure you can deal with that, right? I just needed to sort out Wolf's and Alex's (many, many, many) emotional issues before I finished the story.

Disclaimer: Nothing you recognise belongs to me.

-o-O-o-

There were some things Wolf never expected to happen, when this arrangement was forced upon them. He never expected to grow close to the teen who had been unceremoniously (or, actually, rather ceremoniously now he really thought about it. The wedding had been... elaborate to say the least) thrust into his life.

He still had no desire to be married to the brat, or to take him as a lover, but living with him hadn't turned out so bad. It was nice to come home to a place that felt lived in, after a mission and, if his sex life had suffered because even he wasn't enough of a bastard to bring women back to the flat now, he never felt the desolate loneliness that had begun to creep up on him, and had prompted his move from the SAS to MI6. (Which, now he thought about it, was probably really, really dumb.)

He still hadn't expected to miss the teen when he vanished for three months.

He had been snappy and irritable and, often, downright rude to even his closest friends and, though he was loath to admit it, it was because he was worried. He knew what type of missions Alex was given and he found it increasingly difficult to believe that he had managed to survive them all. He was convinced that it was just a matter of time until Alex didn't return.

It wasn't a pleasant thought.

Of course, Alex did come back and if Wolf stumbled his way through making Alex's favourite meal and let the agent chose what to watch on TV and didn't let him lift a finger around the flat to help, it went uncommented on, though the warm expression in Alex's eyes told Wolf that the effort was appreciated, even if they did both choke slightly on the meal.

And when, later that night, Alex woke up screaming, it seemed perfectly natural for Wolf to pull him into his lap until his shaking subsided and his hands curled softly around Wolf's shoulders.

The world wasn't perfect, but somehow Wolf knew that as long as he had this soft, compliant teen sleeping in his arms, he would survive it.

No, the arrangement may be unconventional, but in the end, he wouldn't change it for the world. It was perfect.

-o-O-o-

Blunt looked up as Jones handed over Rider's latest psych evaluation.

"He seems to be improving," commented the man.

"Yes," agreed Mrs Jones. "Dr Thwait believes that being forced to bond with someone has greatly improved, not only Alex's mental stability, but also his chances of survival."

"Good," murmured Blunt, looking carefully over the report.

He looked up when he realised his deputy was still standing there.

"Yes?"

"Are you ever going to tell them?" she blurted. Most unfitting for a member of MI6, he noted.

"Tell them what?" he asked, blandly.

"That, technically, they aren't legally married?"

Mrs Jones almost fainted in shock at what happened next: Blunt smiled, a small, almost warm, amused smirk that seemed so completely at odds with his normal expression that it transformed his entire face. For the first time, Mrs Jones saw how his wife could be so happily married to him.

"Why on Earth would I do that?"

-o-O-o-

A/N: So, what did you think? The second to last line was, admittedly, cannibalised from a very, very short drabble that I was never going to lengthen. Actually, a treat for you all. Said drabble is below.

Contrary to popular belief, Yassen isn't emotionless. The fact that he is here, huddled against a wall in a foreign country with a teenager cradled softly against his chest and both MI6 and Scorpia chasing him – them – is pretty much conclusive proof of this.

He just doesn't like to show emotion. It has no place in this world.

As such, he tries not to involve in impossible flights of fancy, or unlikely beliefs.

Of course, if he had listened to that rule, he probably wouldn't be here now.

But somehow, he knows that as long as he has this soft, compliant teen sleeping in his arms, it'll work out.

Sweet, huh? No, I have no idea how they got there – anyone want to write the back story for me? Anyways, I'll stop babbling.

But don't forget that little button just below. It gets lonely if you don't click it!