I'm not really sure what possessed me to start writing Alex/Wolf, but there you have it. I'm corrupted. I hope you're happy.


Generally speaking, Her Majesty's Special Air Services frowned upon its soldiers dating those considerably younger than they are, even (or maybe especially) ones that worked for Special Operations. And, generally speaking, Special Operations would agree.

But MI6 also had to acknowledge that after sending their youngest operative on missions a seasoned agent with a decade of experience would have blanched at, it would be frankly naive to expect that same operative to develop any kind of significant romantic interest in someone who had never faced danger much greater than a failed homework assignment. And when MI6 decided to turn a blind eye on something, that thing did not exist.

(And, all right, it might have had something to do with Alex breaking into Blunt's office after-hours and threatening to defect to some other intelligence agency if anyone tried to interfere. But only a little bit.)


For Alex, hiking across a private island filled with deadly plant-life before the sun set and the whole of the place was set to go up in a ball of fire practically constituted a typical Friday night. Rather than risk contact with something that could kill or incapacitate her, Alex had managed to scale the wall enclosing the worst of the wildlife, where she faced a new problem. Directly beneath her were several species of bush that she was pretty sure could kill her as soon as touch her, and above her snaked a vine covered in poisonous barbs. The wall, though, was made of uneven stones that provided handholds and footholds, and so, inch by painful inch, she scuttled her way sideways around the perimeter of the enclosure in the hopes of eventually finding a door or a clear path over the wall.

Just as her hands had gone numb from clinging to the stones, she heard it: a distinctly male voice from somewhere above her, calling her name. At first, she almost dismissed it as a hallucination, but the voice kept repeating itself, louder each time, until she called back. Almost immediately, a helicopter hovered into sight, and a rope smacked her on the shoulder. Alex launched herself at it and held on for dear life as she was hauled up.

Just as she reached the top, someone grabbed her under the armpits and swung her into the plane. She clung to the solid body and didn't let go until her rescuer gently disentangled himself and draped a jacket over her shoulders. For a few minutes, the cabin was silent. She slipped her hands through the arms of the jacket and stayed quiet for as long as possible, but eventually she had to speak. "I thought you were ordered not to move in under any circumstances."

Wolf, shoulders tense and jaw clenched, started packing up the rope. He refused to look her in the eye. "I was."

She bit her lip. "And you hate heights."

"I do."

"So why did you...?"

He viciously threw the coil of rope on the floor next to her before taking a seat, still refusing to look at her directly. "Just... leave it, Kit. That's an order."

So that was how it started.


And this was how it went.

"I can't believe this." Alex crossed her arms and did her best to look much older than her seventeen years – which, given her experience, was almost tragically easy. Wolf pointedly did not acknowledge that she'd spoken, and she huffed in frustration. "Oh, for god's sake." He had been steadily packing up his essentials into a standard-issue pack until she yanked it away from him, because like hell was she going to let him run off on SAS duty before they'd addressed this.

Wolf sighed heavily and placed his hands on her shoulders, gently twisting her around until they were looking at each other dead-on. "Kit. This isn't up for discussion."

"It's Alex," she snapped. "You remember me, don't you, James? We've shared several foxholes and barracks and oh yes, we're dating."

His lips twitched up in that way he had when he was trying not to be amused. Unfortunately for him, Alex had spent enough time with him to have identified a good portion of his tells. "How could I forget?" He actually did smile then, the bastard, and squeezed her shoulders in a way that should not at all have been romantic, except it was. "But we agreed on this, Alex. It's not even legal*."

"I'm seventeen!" she protested. And then, when that had no visible effect, she kept going. "Honestly, it's enough to drive me completely mad. Of course I'm old enough to nearly get killed running around trying to save the country, but God forbid I should be allowed to fuck my boyfriend."

"I know, Kit." Wolf sighed heavily and rested his forehead against hers. "But we're on fairly thin ice as it is. I'm not about to cross the line, and especially not when MI6 is practically jumping at the chance to find some way to get you under contract. Besides, you're – "

She smiled up at him impishly. "Young and nubile?"

He snorted and squeezed her hip affectionately. "Constant pain in my arse, more like." Before she could turn that into something incredibly dirty, he quickly added, "Not until you turn eighteen, Alex. That's the deal."

"Fine," she said with a petulant sigh before palming a miniature tracking beacon Smithers had lent her onto his pack. "But if I die a virgin, I'm coming back as a ghost and haunting you."

Wolf smirked. "I think I can handle that."


*Before I get inundated with reminders that the age of consent in the U.K. is sixteen: that is correct, but according to the legislature I went trawling for, the minimum age is bumped up to eighteen when the elder is in a position of trust over the younger. Why, Ms. Rider, I can't imagine why you would think you aren't an official member of K-Unit! I'm sorry to inform you it is our duty to rush these criminal charges against your commanding officer. Now, about this mission you were just informing us you weren't taking...?