A/N: Here's the full summary: Working for the government is no walk in the park-just ask Damien Thorne. When he isn't trying to convince top agent, Christophe Delaterre, not to be late for work, he is secretly trying to woo the head of a foreign agency via the aforementioned agent. But how can he make the "rule-follower" his if Christophe is more focused on an agent from the same rival agency than the "missions" Damien gives him? Will this new case spell success for him in all these fields?

And just to warn you guys, this story contains slash (boy on boy action), rude things being said to others, some inspiration from other TV shows, subtance abuse, and contantly changing PoVs. Don't like it, then please at least don't flame me. I gave you fair warning.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

The students sat like lazy, bleary-eyes soldiers, waiting for the ever silent bell to ring before the commander could hand out the homework assignment. From where he watched, the man could practically feel the boredom seep into his body, stiffening his joints and slowing his thoughts and reactions.

"Mr. Thorne? Mr. Thorne? Mr. Thorne!"

"What?" Mr. Thorne gave the last of his attention to the monotone teacher.

"The students apparently do not know the answer to my question. Do you wish to help them out?" Shit. He hated helping others learn, but when you were the head of a secret government organization....

Brring!

Ah, saved by the bell. Mr. Thorne smirked at the disappointed teacher and strolled away, ready to do something else. He had only sat in on that particular class because he owed that particular instructor a favor, not knowing how dull he actually was in the classroom. Now he wanted to get what was important done. He practically ran through the government building, barely stopping to tell his collegues hello. He went inside his office and closed the door, finally taking a moment to breathe in the tranquillity of his workspace. Sitting behind his desk, Damien made sure no one was watching before opening a secret drawer and taking out his most prized possession: a picture of his true love, Phillip "Pip" Purrip. Of course, no one knew of his affections for this man (with the exception of one agent) because while he could care less what they thought, he knew they would tell Pip to stay away. And he could only imagine that the head of the English secret government organization would only be too happy to oblige. He was not sure how well his heart could take that scenario.

"Mr. Thorne! Mr. Thorne!" Oh great. More work.

"Yes, come in." He laid Pip's picture on his lap and sighed. This was probably about Christophe again. A head of bright red curls bounced into the decently-sized room. "H-hello sir, how are y-you today?" The man asked politely.

Another inhale, followed by a long exhale. "Let's skip the nicieties Broflovski, and cut to the real reason why you're here."

"Or course sir," Kyle said sheepishly. "Christophe finally arrived. I thought you would like to know that." Damien's eyes glowed red.

"Send him in." Kyle scuttled out in nervousness, not wanting to deal with his hot-tempered boss any more than he had to at the moment. He approached Christophe and resisted the urge to roll his eyes as the Frenchman winked at him. All of his sheepishness and nervousness disappeared.

"Why 'ello Kyle, you know you do not 'ave to go out of your way to greet me!"

"Don't flatter yourself Christophe, I'm only telling you that the boss wants to see you in his office right now." Kyle began to walk away, but jumped as he felt a hand collide sharply with his ass. Before he could protest, Christophe breezed past him and into Damien's lair.

" 'Ello sir, 'ow are-"

"Sit." Quiet, yet forceful, so Christophe decided it was safer to sit. Damien regarded the man across from him with slight anger.

"Do you have any information about Purrip you like to say before we begin?" The french man shrugged.

"Non. Why do you not just ask 'im out?"

Damien ignored this question. "So not only were you late again, but you also did not do what I asked." Christophe's eyes widened at the realization of the real reason he was called in.

"Sir, eet weell not 'appen-"

"It happens five times a month at the very least. You tell me every time that you won't be late again, but I'm starting to consider letting you go." Damien held up two fingers to quiet any interruptions from Christophe. "I don't want to do that because you're a damn good agent. However, if you don't start considering the time you arrive, I don't see any other alternative."

"Sir, I promeese. Eet weell not 'appen again. You can fire me on ze spot eef eet does." Damien raised his eyebrows. That was a pretty bold offer considering it could very well happen the next day. However, he sighed.

"It better not." Christophe's eyes brightened as he was given another chance.

"Zank you sir, eet weell not 'appen again. I promeese, I swear!" He left in a giddy skip, still promising he would not be late for work anymore. Damien sighed for the umpteenth time and rubbed his temples, taking one last glance at Pip and his lovely features before setting the picture back inside of the drawer he got it from. He took a deep breath and turned on his computer and started compiling the data over the past year's successful and not-so-successful missions. He only hoped Christophe was keeping himself busy as well.

***

"Don't you have work you should be doing at the moment, Christophe?" Coolly. subtly trying to shoo the possessive Frenchman from his station, Kyle did not give him the satisfaction of eye contact, instead keeping his eyes firmly glued to the lit screen before him.

"Kyle, you are my work." At the quirked brow he received, the brunette elaborated. "You faces-all your pouts, sneers, confused eyebrows, all of zat-make you very cute, make me want you. And when I want somezeeng, I do not rest unteel zat zeeng ees safely and successfully een my arms. Do you understand now, Kyle?"

"I do understand." The ginger-haired man finally looked at him, abeit sternly. "The question is, do you understand that I'm interested in someone else?"

Christophe scoffed. "Zat All-Amereecan can not love you like I can. Kyle, I love you."

Now it was Kyle's turn for skepticism. "Stan is sweet, loving, and care about me. You're insensitive, hateful toward others, and don't give a flying fuck about my feelings. Admit it, you still can't stand the fact that I love another guy. You're willing to rip my affections away from him."

"Kyle, I love you." Christophe repeated, thoroughly confused. Kyle stared at him awhile and then exhaled softly, knowing whatever he said would not reach the best agent they had. "Just go back to work, Christophe."

"Fine, fine." He held up his hands in a sign of surrender and started back for his own desk. He looked back only once, but to his dismay Kyle had already swivled back to his work, gazing in the other direction.

***

'Why does 'e not see zat we belong togezer? Zat boy 'e ees eenterested een 'as 'is 'ead so far up zat Wendy girl's ass zat 'e does not noteece Kyle's affections.' As Christophe fumbled with the lock to his apartment, he thought about how Kyle's eyes gleamed so prettily when he talked of Stan Marsh, his love interest. Did they ever sparkle like that for conversations about Christophe? No, the french man had to admit that they most likely did not. Finally the door swung open and he stepped inside, thorwing his coat away without caring where it landed and made himself a quick dinner or sliced ham and bread before turning out the lights and going to bed. He stared at the then darkened ceiling, hoping sleep would claim him soon. Before his wish could be carried out however, more thoughts of Kyle and that faggot Marsh waltzed through his mind.

'Why can 'e not love me? What does zat brat 'ave zat I do not? I know zat Kyle does not liked to be peenched or 'andled, but would zat really change 'is desires for me? And 'ow can I go about makeeng someone love me 'oo obveeously does not?'

It was all very sad and confusing and Christophe did not feel like depressing himself any longer. Luckily, he did not have long to wait before he fell into a deep, abiet lonely, sleep.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

A/N: Poor Christophe! Ah well, he'll get what he wants in the end, even if it may not be exactly what he wished for. No preview again, but I should have one in the next chapter....Maybe.

Tootle loo!

~theflawintheplan