DISCLAIMER: I do not own Alex Rider. Any unfamiliar languages have been translated via Google Translate.

A note from Alice, your awesomest, bestest writer of the whole entire sock which I live in: This is for BluishBleach and the holiday fic exchange! I hope you like this! I procrastinated a bit, yeah... but I did it! I have a legitimate (sort of) reason for being late... SCHOOL. For some reason, they didn't let me out of that place until today, which was horrible. HORRIBLE. Okay anyway, excuses aside, please enjoy my Christmas (or holiday, if you prefer) present to you!

The Tries and Trials of Tom Harris

I. In Which Tom is Tricked

"I think I just failed that exam," Tom smacked himself in the face with his folder, not caring as papers exploded every which way.

Alex was not amused. He lounged on his bed, clicking his pen aggressively as he peered at his homework. He barely looked up from the page, pausing from his incessant gnawing on his bottom lip, "It's just French, mate. It's not hard."

Tom gave his best friend his best death glare, which, he had to admit, did not measure up to Alex's, "Of course it's easy for you! You're already fluent-"

"This makes no sense at all," Alex's golden-brown eyebrows were furrowed in a concentrated fashion, "I hate math!"

Tom felt somewhat pleased that he knew something that Alex didn't. It was stupid to think that way, especially because Alex had been saving the world while Tom had been sitting inside a classroom solving math problems, but he had always been just a little but envious of Alex's above average intelligence.

"You have to take out the cosecant of x," Tom informed the blonde spy very seriously, "that way you can solve. They answer is pi over two by the way."

Alex groaned, throwing his homework onto the bed with unnatural force. The notebook bounced off of the bed and landed among Tom's scattered notes.

Tom frowned at his assignment book, "The French essay is due tomorrow! Crab-apples! Do you think she'll notice if I just use Google Translate?"

Alex didn't answer, and when Tom looked over, he saw that he was glaring at the math homework as if it had personally insulted him.

"Alex?" Tom asked, drawing the word out. He plopped onto the bed, looking at the boy with a devious smirk, a quick idea forming in his mind, "I'll do your math homework if you do my French homework..."

The suggestion lingered in the air. Alex turned his gaze on Tom, albeit very slowly. Tom knew that Alex was a very principled teen and would never intentionally cheat if he could. Tom had no qualms with it and did so regularly, so it wasn't that strange for him.

Alex studied Tom carefully, as if he were afraid it was some kind of trap. Tom hated it when Alex did that. It always made him feel inferior, as if Alex knew something that Tom didn't. Something that had to do with his crazy spy adventures.

"Deal," Alex said firmly.

Tom shrugged, expecting the answer, "Okay, okay. But don't blame me when you're up at three in the morning trying to figure out how to do thi- wait. Did you just say 'deal'?"

To say that Tom was surprised was an understatement. Tom had never expected the boy to say yes. He'd suggested this before, and Alex had never said yes.

"Deal," Alex repeated, sending Tom a sly grin, "swap with me."

Alex, sometime between Tom's offer and his realization, had snatched up his notebook from the floor. He tossed it to Tom, who caught it easily.

"Seriously?" Tom questioned, eyes wide. He frowned and squinted at Alex, looking for any indication that this was a fake Alex Rider.

"Seriously," Alex confirmed, picking up a pencil.

Tom, now assured, picked up his own pencil, grinning, "Awesome, mate! Here, I'll explain to you while you write my essay. The first step is to factor out the greatest common factor..."

"But why don't you divide by…?"

It wasn't until eleven o'clock at night on his way home, after Tom had explained away the math problems, that he realized the spy hadn't done his French essay.

II. In Which Tom Becomes a Rat

"Look at me; I can never pass as a perfect bride," Tom sang along with the Disney song as he attempted to make some pancakes. Alex was no where to be seen, but Tom doubted the boy could stay asleep with Tom's melodious voice reverberating through the mostly empty house, "or a perfect daughter. Can it be-"

"-that you're not female?" a voice grumbled from behind him.

"ACH!" Tom let out an unmanly screech and flung his spatula at Alex's head.

Alex didn't even blink as he reached up and caught the utensil by its handle. Tom scowled heavily at his friend, "Don't do that to me! I could have thrown a knife or something!"

Alex rolled his eyes, "And I would have ducked."

Tom rolled his eyes in return, "I would have accidentally killed you! Or worse – put a hole in the wall."

Alex made a noise in the back of his throat, making a gesture like he disagreed, grumbling, "You need to get your priorities straight."

He tossed the spatula back at Tom, who caught it and turned back to his slightly burnt pancakes. Humming, he failed to realize that Alex was now making motions to try to get him to stay quiet.

"Shh!" Alex hissed at him, ramming a hand over Tom's mouth, "Someone's in the house with us."

Tom didn't understand at first. He groped at the hand over his mouth. When Alex didn't remove his hand, Tom stuck his tongue out, licking Alex's palm. The spy gave him an irritated glare, but didn't even flinch. He was clearly not going to give in.

"Stay here," Alex told Tom, his voice hushed, finally releasing him, "I'll deal with him."

The blonde spy slipped away silently, wiping his palms on his pants. Tom stared after him, a crease in his brow. He had no doubt that Alex could handle a scary, macho intruder, but it didn't stop him from being worried.

Tom turned off the fire and deposited the pancakes on a plate. It would be best to wait. Unless, of course, something happened, and Tom had to save the day. With a pan and a spatula.

Tom grinned at the thought.

"Psst!"

Tom wasn't sure who was trying to get his attention. He'd seen Alex run off, in the direction of the strange noise. Maybe it was Jack. He knew she liked to play practical pranks on the two best friends all the time.

Tom froze, still holding up his spatula. Wasn't Jack currently in America, her remains buried six feet under?

"Fish-sticks and custard," he sighed, turning around very slowly, his grip tightening on his spatula.

Standing behind him was the biggest, scariest dude that Tom had ever seen. He couldn't properly describe him. Even 'macho' wasn't the right word to describe him. The man looked like some monster out of a movie – like the Hulk, perhaps.

It didn't help that the man was wearing absolutely the strangest clothing Tom had ever seen. The hulking man somehow still made it look positively intimidating.

He wore a bright pink shirt – so bright, it was hard for Tom to look at it properly – with black letters on the front. It read "HOAGIES". It was probably the wrong time to feel hungry, but Tom hadn't eaten yet. His stomach grumbled aggressively.

The man sneered at him. Tom gaped at him, all the way from his frizzy orange hair to his bright pink shirt, to his bellicose neon green shorts, to his obnoxious orange socks, to his tranquil blue trainers.

"Finally," the man breathed. His voice was ragged, his breath was shallow.

Tom didn't like the sound of that. He inched away. He was, however, trapped in the little corner between the refrigerator and the stove. He noted the eggs that he had failed to put away were beside him, while the knives and anything of use was out of his reach. He was basically going to die. Death by crazy, multi-colored, hulk-man.

"Er… hi?" Tom cursed himself. He was never good at handling stressful situations.

"Twelve years! Twelve years in Azkaban! Remus, I found him!" The man shouted, his hair bounding around as he shook a piece of wood in front of him.

"What?" Tom squawked, "I was five twelve years ago! What did I do? Was it because I accidentally pronounced 'ditch' wrong? I get confused when I'm under pressure! Sometimes 'd's look like 'b's okay? I'm sorry!"

"Liar!" The man howled, range apparent on his face as he waved the stick around a bit, "Transform, you sniveling rat! Transform, Pettigrew!"

Tom was dealing with an absolute lunatic. Did this man think he was in the Harry Potter universe?

"Are you serious?" He asked, mainly out of disbelief.

The man was shaking out of rage. His face was slowly turning a lovely firetruck red, "Yes! I am always Sirius! Don't act innocent. I know it was you-"

Tom took the opportunity to fling his spatula at the man's - "Sirius"'s – head. It bounced off the man's face, who wasted no time in reacting, charging forward with his pointy stick.

"Eeeek!" Tom shrieked as he reached for the only available weapon: raw eggs. He pelted a couple at the looney man before turning and running for a suitable weapon.

Unfortunately, the egg-splattered man was still blocking Tom's way to the more dangerous weapons. Tom would have to made do with his freshly burned pancakes.

With a slap, the man went down, wailing wildly for "Remus" as he choked on a plateful of Tom's beautiful pancakes. The teenager was extremely sad to see his pancakes go, but he supposed it was better than getting stabbed to death with the pointy stick of his.

Tom reached for the frying pan. He'd only ever seen this on TV, and he really wasn't willing to try this out for real, but as the strange man groaned and began to straighten, Tom knew he had no choice.

Clang!

The strange man went down again, in a puddle of eggs and burnt pancakes.

Tom felt oddly satisfied with himself. He'd saved the day for once.

"Sirius?" Someone called from behind Tom.

Tom whirled around, staring at the man, dressed in all black. It was horrifying. Even more so than the other man, who had basically burned out Tom's retinas. His clothes seemed more like black robes or like the kinds that the creepy things always wore in movies.

"TOM, look out!" Alex's call was barely heard.

The man turned to Tom with a sharp look. He was glaring, shaking almost as badly as the other man was, "Tom? Tom. Marvolo. Riddle."

Tom wasn't sure what was going through his mind as he screamed, "DEMENTOR!"

It apparently distracted the man enough for Alex to fly through the open door and tackle the man. He was no match for Alex's spy skills, and in the next moment, he was out cold.

Alex was eyeing Tom wearily, "You okay, mate?"

Tom was feeling a bit woozy as he swayed back and forth on his feet, "Dementor," he said faintly, his voice cracking.

He couldn't remember anything after that. Just falling and black.

III. In Which Alex Cannot Sit

"Ooow..." Alex moaned as he gently eased himself onto his bed. Tom was watching him evenly with a grin on his face.

"Wipe that bloody look off your face," Alex muttered bitterly, glaring at the black-haired boy, "Or I'll wipe it for you."

Tom openly laughed at him, "It's not my fault you got yourself shot!"

Alex glared at him from his awkward angle. He was laying on his stomach, his neck twisted as he tried to convey the exact degree of his annoyance. He noted with a grin that Tom took a small step back, clearly feeling the anger that was pouring out of Alex's eyes.

"I do believe you were the one provoking the dangerous gang leader," he sniped, trying to get into a better position without hurting himself.

Tom made a scoffing noise, "How was I supposed to know that he was a gang leader? He was trying to force me to buy drugs! I wasn't going to buy that! Besides, you were the one who went all ninja out on him."

Alex glared at his best friend even harder, "Because I was protecting you!"

"Okay, okay," Tom held up his hands in surrender, "I get it, mate. You were trying to do the right thing."

Alex grumbled lowly under his breath.

"By the way," Tom came closer and peered innocently at Alex, "How are you supposed to use the loo?"

Alex grabbed the closest thing to him, which happened to be a pillow, pegging Tom squarely in the back as he danced out of Alex's room.

It wasn't his fault that he'd gotten shot on the bum!

IV. In Which Tom Uses Google Translate

Tom Harris was an independent, free man. He took pride in that, since it was his first time traveling by alone without any supervision. Well, that was a lie. Alex was worse than any parent or brother he'd ever had.

"No, Tom," Alex sighed with annoyance as Tom pointed out a cool object in a nearby shop, "We aren't going to buy a stuffed animal llama."

Tom pouted, "You suck."

Alex rolled his eyes, "Where are we anyway?"

Tom gave his best friend a look that would hopefully tell Alex how stupid he was being, "I've never been in this country before. How would I know?"

The two were currently in Spain. It had always been fairly close, of course, but Tom hadn't found much interest in taking a field trip there.

Alex sighed in annoyance and stopped a passerby, once again, demonstrating his amazing multilingual abilities.

Tom turned away from the two, who were in deep conversation. He didn't understand a signal word besides "hola".

The stuffed animal llama was basically calling to Tom. He wanted to buy it and keep it – sleep with it every night on his barren bed. He headed for the store.

It occurred to Tom that he didn't know a lick of Spanish. It wasn't a problem, as he had his handy dandy little phone with him. Translators were his savior. It was probable that the store keeper knew English, but if Alex could be multilingual, why couldn't Tom be too?

"¡Hola!" Tom greeted robustly as he entered the shop, a grin on his face.

An elderly woman bustled over to him, speaking rapidly, "¡Hola! ¿Cómo podemos ayudarle? Tenemos un poco de todo — ropa, papelería, almohadas, mantas y alimentos. Te ves muy flaco. ¿Puedo interesarlos en algunas pasas? Las pasas son deliciosos!"

Tom nodded along because he couldn't quite get anything. He supposed he would just type something onto his app and respond. 'I'm interested in buying that llama over there,' he typed quickly. The elderly woman looked at him curiously as he did so.

"Estoy... interesado en la compra de este llama allí," Tom said very slowly and very deliberately. He looked up hopefully at the woman.

The woman looked confused, but at Tom's gesture, she finally understood that he wanted the stuffed llama. She clambered onto the small sill where it was sitting on display and brought it down for him.

It was a large llama. Very large. It was nearly as tall as Tom, which made him gulp. It also seemed very heavy, although the woman seemed alright.

"¿Cuánto costará?" How much will that cost?

The woman was expecting this question. She responded very importantly, "Esta llama fue hecho a mano hace sesenta años por mi marido. Se hace de la piel real de llamas, así como piel de animal genuino. Esta llama es muy valioso para mí. Le costará seis mil ochocientos cuarenta y dos euros."

Tom nodded along. The only part he really understood was something about two euros. It seemed like a very good deal.

"I'll take it!" Tom cried out, forgetting the fact that she didn't speak English. However, the opening of his wallet seemed to translate perfectly well.

"Tom!" Alex burst into the shop, his eyes fixating on the llama right away.

Tom looked back at his friend in irritation, "Oh, come on! I just want the llama."

Alex made a noise that sounded like a mix between a groan of frustration and a snorting bull. He turned to the old woman and began talking urgently.

"You were going to buy it?" Alex turned to Tom with a disbelieving look on his face.

"Well, yeah," Tom gave him a 'duh' kind of look, "She said that it was only two euros!"

Alex basically face-palmed himself, "Tom, it costs six thousand eight hundred forty-two euros."

Tom was gobsmacked. He stared at the woman, then at Alex, "Oh."

And that was how Tom found himself pulled out of the store and reprimanded like a small child, being tugged down the street by his ear.

"Irresponsible, stupid, little child. Acting like he's five!" Alex was muttering lowly to himself.

He finally let go of Tom's ear. Tom was grateful. He rubbed his aching ear as they stood at a crosswalk.

"Hey," Tom begun slowly, glancing cautiously at Alex. A grin was making its way on his face.

Alex didn't seem to like it very much, "What?"

"Didn't you tell me that you married a llama once?"

And that was how Tom found himself dragged down the street by the ear again.

Traveling with Alex was really the worst idea ever.

Hugs and kisses mis amores. I do take Spanish, but I was too lazy to actually write it out...

-Alice