A/N:I'm a bad, baaaad girl. I've got, like, four (or five) unfinished stories going at the same time.

However, I totally could not resist this; call me insane, but I quite like the idea. By the way, if you're waiting for me to update Chain of Hearts, well… Don't hold your breath, okay? You'll pass out before I add anything.

I like to underline, italicize, make things bold, and do all three together. It's fun.

Reviews warm my heart in this wonderfully BALLS Australian winter (as in, cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey), and flames warm my ass.

A FEW IMPORTANT THINGS:

1. These are all book!characters. Do not be expecting Bill!Mr.Blunt and Sophie!Mrs.Jones, because that's just weird.

2. This is a parody. Do not take it seriously, guys!

3. Trish said, 'let there be slash', and there was slash. Don't like; don't read!

.-xXXx-.

Alex Rider groaned and let the hot water cascade onto his back, seeming to wash away all his anxiety. It might've returned tenfold, however, if he'd noticed the soft click and the slow pan of a camera mounted on the wall opposite.

"Excellent," Mr. Blunt said, watching his computer screen intently. He was in his darkened office in the heart of London. "Very excellent indeed. Do you agree, Mrs. Jones?"

"Hmm?" she replied intelligently, glancing up from her magazine, for she was in fact an intelligent, unfeeling woman who was not at all impressed that her colleague of more than two decades had hired a fourteen-year-old boy who had quite often upstaged her.

No matter how hard she tried to get him killed – all in a day's work, really – he always outdid her, and she was four times his age! Now Alan was now watching said the fourteen-year-old boy as he showered – was it not enough that he stole her glory, but had to steal her master and her boss, too? The nerve of young people these days, really!

She grunted an incoherent reply.

"Well, he's definitely Ian's son," Mr. Blunt said, his eyes widening behind his creepy bifocals.

"He's Ian's nephew, Alan."

"…Right."

"Alan, are you sure these, erm–" she groped around for his exact phrasing "–increased security measures are necessary for Alex?"

"Yes, yes," he said, flapping a hand as though to shoo a particularly annoying fly. "Absolutely positive."

"And are you sure that he shouldn't know about these, erm, new developments?"

For such a smart woman, Mrs. Jones was incredibly exasperating. Mr. Blunt sighed.

Mrs. Jones, anticipating confessions of love and it's-not-just-sex (a woman could always dream), stared at him expectantly.

"But of course, my dear Jonesy," Mr. Blunt said in what would've been a blithe voice, but for his gritted teeth.

"Don't call me Jonesy," she said, and turned the page of Cosmo in a huff.

Mr. Blunt looked back at the screen, and screeched, "Damn it to heck!"

Mrs. Jones glanced up once more and said, "What is it, Alan?"

"He's fully clothed!" Mr. Blunt shrieked, pointing an accusing finger at his coworker. "This is your fault!"

"Actually, it's not," she replied in a bored way. "He has a mission to attend to, that you assigned him. Which, by the way, I'm not quite sure about – are you sure it's safe?"

"He'll be fine," Mr. Blunt said sulkily.

.-xXXx-.

"So, what's your wand made of?" Cho asked the new boy excitedly.

"Um," Alex said, not sure whether or not she was talking about the wand in his hand. "Erm, stuff. With stuff in the stuff. You know the –"

"Oh, that's great," Cho said, a blush spreading on her face. "But I was talking about – erm – the one in your pocket. That you use for magic."

"Magic?" Alex repeated blankly.

"Yeah…" Cho said. "Surely you know about… Oh, never mind."

Alex stood for a moment in the middle of the hall, watching Cho back away slowly. Then a thought struck him.

"Magic!?" he cried, attracting the stares of a fair few people. "You mean, like in Harry Potter?"