Hunter
I was wondering if you take request on stories. If so I would like to request a story involving Red as a Undercover Agent which Nigel and Buck find out his secret. If it can't be done I understand, but I thought I'd ask.
Honestly Hunter, no ones ever asked before, besides Nigel. So I figured I might as well as try.
With every breathe he took a sharp pain rushed down his spine and through his nerves causing the rouge haired man to barely supress a wince as he leaned against the heavy cottage door.
If he was honest, everything hurt:
His pride, his mind, his body.
A bitter chuckle left the golden eye man while precious crimson liquid dripped from the fingers clutched to his side all the while mentally cursing the elder.
Of course the British Spy would be out the one time Russian wanted him to be home. The one time he shoved down his pride and all but dragged himself through mud and fire to the other in a sense of desperation.
The one fucking time and the elder wasn't even here.
If he had the strength for it, the rouge likely would of laughed but as it was he barely had the strength to keep himself standing.
He was here, with no strength to turn back and his pursuers likely upon his scent once more, leaving him incapable of just standing there with a bloody bull's-eye all but painted onto his back.
It seemed he was going to have to break in.
To be honest it was easier said then done as his fingers where coaxed in his own blood , his usually steady hands shaking ever so slightly from the blood loss and his vision distortion that made him feel like he was being spun in circle on a carnival ride.
It was only after he missed the key hole twice, accidently stabbing himself four time and having the lock picks slip through his fingers six separate times- he would never live that down if anyone fount out- did he finally manage to hear that satisfying click.
Pressing his good shoulder against the door, the rouge pushed his way inside before leaning against the door to ensure it completely shut. Taking a breath the Russian aloud the cold air to crash against his fever ridden body sending both chills and heat flashes down his spine before straitening as best as he could and slowly making his way across the room.
Another day. Another time.
A soft sigh left the British Spy as he walked slowly up his walkway. While the emerald eyed man loved his job there where some days the elder man wished he could take a long vacation and today was one of those days.
Something big had happened and somehow they had missed it all, the only signs of anything ever happening being the ruined destruction that was once Milton Royal Park.
Making his way up his cottage's steps, Nigel allowed a brief frown to replace his usual smile as he noticed the blood smeared on his home's front door's doorknob and the one inch space of the cracked door that never properly shut unless one lifted the door by its knob first.
Someone had obviously broken in but who?
While using one hand, The spy pushed open the door as the other reached for the gun hidden within his Suit's jacket. Only to pause midways as emerald eyes instantly noticed the trail of blood drops on his wooden floor, leading further inside.
Keeping a hand near his gun, the spy carefully began to followed the trail through his home and into his bedroom, where he noticed it went to the other side of his bed with a black boot just visible on the ground.
Slowly he drew his gun and silently making his way around the bed, ready to attack the intruder if needed. But with every step he took he began to notice something else about his intruder became visible around the mass of his king Size Bed until he fount something he never expected to:
An well know and undoubtfully unconscious rouge laying in a steady growing pool of crimson, skin several shades paler then his already pale skin and hands all but dyed a copper red associated with drying blood.
"Red!"
The spy didn't bother pocketing his gun as he dropped it upon the floor in favor of rushing towards the smaller man.
'Please don't be a dead body. Please don't be a dead body.'
What happened and why the Hell was the younger here?
A soft sigh left the Spy- he had been doing that a lot lately his mind decided then to realize- after his slender fingers finally manage to find a pulse. It was weak but at least he didn't have a dead body on his bedroom floor to explain.
Though if he didn't act soon, the tide was highly likely to change very quickly.
Carefully sliding an arm under the younger's neck and legs, the spy quickly stood jolting the smaller slightly causing a soft pained noise to slip through unnaturally pale lips.
If the younger had awake and not bleeding all over him and his bedroom the elder likely would have slipped an apology to the smaller but right now the Spy decided to take it as a positive sign the rouge was still alive. Spinning on heel the white haired man quickly made his way downstairs, awarded by another soft noise as he jumped half of the stairs in order to rush towards the kitchen table.
He had always know the Russian was smaller then most men his age but staring at the body situated out on his magnolia kitchen table only seemed to highlight the younger's dainty.
Maybe it was the how much smaller then even a eight person table the Russian was.
Maybe how the dark wood highlighted the younger's unnaturally pale skin wrapped in blood stained bandages.
Maybe it was the twelve bullets sitting within a tea glass on the corner of he table.
Maybe it was the blood staining both his table and Dinning Room Floors.
Maybe it was because of the restraints he had been forced to use to prevent the younger from instantly attacking him even while unconscious.
Maybe it was because of how young the Russian looked when he wasn't scowling, smirking or causing untold chaos.
Maybe it was knowing had he stayed and worked late like normal, had he been home even five minutes later the rouge would have died on his bedroom floor.
Maybe he just finally needed an emotional realize after all these years.
Maybe it was one, all or none of those reasons that he couldn't stop the tears as he collapsed into one of the table's chairs feeling more worn down, tired and older then he ever did.
As far as Nigel was concerned the younger's clothes was as good as kindle for the fireplace. One they had been an expensive, well fitting, all purpose suit for the Russian now resting in his bed but now...
Torn and bloodied as they where the spy could see no salvation for them. Even if they managed to stich it back together the fact of the matter was the blood would forever stain the clothes no matter how washed them or how many times one did so.
The rouge would likely make his distaste known but as of now, Red was dead to the world and showing no signs of waking anytime this week; leaving Nigel as the lone decision maker.
Finally.
He had been trying to convenience the younger to try another style for years, but first he would need to remove any... Surprises the rouge had either in, on, or attached to his clothing in any form or way.
Which was how he stumbled across the small black USB Drive no bigger then his pinkie sewed into the collar of the rouge's jacket.
Nigel felt his eyes widen at the information on the USB Drive he fount on Red's person.
He had been expected plans of World Domination, blue prints containing weapons of mass destruction that by all rights shouldn't exist, maybe even a journal but not this, never this.
Emerald eyes shifted to the still figure laying on his bed as if the person would vanish into thin air if he looked away while carrying the expression of a person trying to figure out an unsolvable riddle.
"What the Hell have you gotten yourself into now?"
Unfortunately the body told no secrets, though the elder man could already see the scowl and annoyance in that lone golden eye that when have been there had the younger been awake. He could almost hear the rouge tearing into him about minding his own business but Nigel was a spy and as far as he was concerned it became his business the moment he fount the younger on his bedroom floor.
Finally, his gaze moved back to the screen as his mind already worked on making and discarding countless plans. This was a bit too big, run a bit too deep for him to work on alone- he would be having words with the Russian for obviously trying to do so himself- if he actually wanted to get anywhere instead of an open grave he would require aid.
Red was woken by the sound of low voices, one of which he recognized easily thanks to countless years of hearing it as Agent Nigel. So the Spy must of finally come home.
His lone eye slowly opened, wincing slightly as the bright morning light, as his mind finally registered the other two voices:
Buck Rockgut and the Commander of MI6.
Shit.
Nigel must of found his flash drive. Well either that or they where trying to recruit him again but the rouge highly doubted it after what he did the last time they tried.
Ignoring the agonizing pain, Red sat up and glared at the three startled Agents.
Finally the Commander spoke,
"Is there anything you wish to tell us, Super Secret Agent Red?"
Shit. His cover was so blown. He was so screwed. Monie would have his head on a platter for this if she didn't burry him alive under an intolerable amount of paperwork that is. His only saving grace would lie in wither or not he could complete the mission and save face before the drastically short time line ended. If not...
Well he could kiss his undercover career goodbye and prepare to be a desk jocky for God only knows how long.
"I don't have time for this."
Red growled as he collected his freshly washed trademark suit. He ignored the pain racing through his body and his left leg's limp. It would heal but he didn't have the time to sit around and wait for it to do so. He had to finish his mission and had wasted enough time resting.
"Red, you're hurt!"
Really captain obvious? The rouge couldn't stop the annoyed thought from drifting to the front of his mind as he gave the elder man his best deadpanned look.
"I never would have guessed."
Nigel moved into his pathway likely hoping to catch the rouge should he try to rush by in turn causing Red to roll his eye, this wasn't the first time he had been wounded and he doubted it would be the last.
"I'm fine."
Nigel arched an elegant eyebrow.
"Red, you're bleeding through the bandages."
Red blinked and glanced down for the first time noticing the crimson stained bandages.
Huh, what do you know? Still a little blood- okay, a lot of blood- wasn't going to stop him.
"I'll fix it later."
The three Agents shared a look, knowing how stubborn The Russian could be once he set his mind on something but before the rouge could tempt his hand at leaving:
BAM!
Red's left leg buckled underneath him causing the rouge to stumble foward, only for Nigel to catch him. As one three sets of eyes turned towards the source of the shot.
"There. Now you have to stay."
Rockgut spoke, putting his gun away into its holster with an unforgiving calmness to his tone as though he didn't just shoot the youngest there.
Nigel and The Commander could only gap at him in disbelief while the rouge fought back the urge to get up and strangling the American.