Here is the second chapter... unbeta'd, as always - does it show that I never get anything beta read, except that the lovely and patient Von selflessly reads through my stories to make me feel better about posting them:D - and only up this fast because I go back to school tomorrow. (pouts) I don' wanna go baaaaack!!!

...ahem.

So... here it is. The second chapter. This is going to a LONG fic, people - the long votes FAR outweighed the short ones. I'm pleased and flattered that you all have so much faith in me!

This chapter is dedicated to various people - Von, as always, because she's so patient with me, and such a good friend... xaritomene, my 'real life friend', who is ALMOST as patient with me, but doesn't listen to me ramble on like poor ole Von has to :P, and also to Slate Grey and LostInColour, who have both written several lovely, coherent reviews over quite a long period of time; Slate Grey also has the excellent taste to be a Doctor Who fan on top of that. :P

That isn't to say I don't appreciate all of your reviews! Put it this way, the chapter might as well be dedicated to all of you, because if it weren't for your kind encouragement, the chapter would never have been written. I rest my case.

I hope you enjoy this one too!

DISCLAIMER: I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts - but, sadly, not Alex Rider. (pout: The Sequel)

Alex had been back in London for maybe a week, the first time James rang. The week had been boring, but busy; he'd spent it in a frantic whirl of homework, school, sports practice, and an occasional "excursion" – as Ian had called them, for some reason best known only to himself – with some of the friends who didn't now think that he was some kind of mad, drug-crazed fiend. Jack had been talking non-stop about Wimbledon, which was about to start – she'd managed to develop a crush on one of the newer players, which had kick started her interest, though she'd always loved the "adorably British" competition; but that was about the most interesting thing which had been happening.

Alex had spent a fair amount of his free time – not that there was much of it – thinking about James, about the kiss he'd given him, and had been debating whether or not he should ring.

"Alex!" Jack called up the stairs, "Phone for you!"

Alex pushed his Biology homework away from him with some relief, and headed across the landing to Ian's room, which still stood empty, and where, for some reason, they still kept a phone. As he passed the stairwell, he called back down to Jack "Thanks – I'll pick it up up here, OK?" She nodded, and he grabbed the phone. "Hello?"

"Alex." James said, voice warm. "Was the lady who answered the phone your guardian?"

"Hey." Alex grinned on his end of the phone, though he knew James couldn't see it. "Yeah, that was Jack. She's nice – you'd like her." There was a second or so of silence, before James said, casually,

"So – good flight back? How are you?"

"Um…" Alex shrugged. "The flight was fine. It's kind of weird, being on a plane all by yourself, though…" he paused. "And I'm good. You?"

"Yeah, fine. School's boring." Alex could hear his smile in his voice when he spoke next. "Dad's organised loads of tutors for me – I'm not sure whether they're to help me catch up with all the stuff I missed when I couldn't be bothered to pay attention, or because he thinks I'm thick, but either way… it's really easy when you try, isn't it?"

Alex laughed a little. "If you're clever."

"Well, I'm perfect, so obviously, I have no trouble whatsoever." James retorted, mock-arrogantly.

"Yeah." Alex agreed, seriously. "Me, I used to conceited, but now I'm perfect."

James laughed, warm and reassuring, and Alex felt a little of the tension from the last, remarkably stressful week melt away. "Dad got your thank you letter, by the way, and he told me to say that it's always a pleasure to see good manners in young people these days." He paused. "Well, not really. He did say that, but he actually told me to tell you 'thank you' for it, and what's the point in that? You'll say thank you to him for saying thank you to you for saying thank you to…"

"James, shut up." Alex said, chuckling. "This could go on forever."

"Exactly!" he returned, triumphantly.

The phone call lasted just over an hour, both of them being reluctant to put the phone down, and was the first of many. Jack half-heartedly complained that Alex spent more time talking to James than to her, but there was a warmth in her eyes as she said it, and she had commented before on how good it was for Alex to have a close friend who understood him.

Alex didn't tell her about the way James and he had kissed, reasoning that it was hardly anything to do with her; and in all of their many conversations, they brought up their 'deeper relationship' very rarely. Alex had mentioned that once, and James had replied that there was nothing to say about it that wouldn't be better said face to face, and had casually issued an invitation for Alex to come and visit him that summer. Alex had turned that round, saying that James should come and visit him, and adding, sweetly, that he could even bring his guards if he wanted to.

James hung up on him at that point. He rang back five minutes later, with a ready, if not entirely serious, apology, but it was decided. Alex was to spend ten days in Austria with James, then James was coming back to London with Alex for another ten days.

Crawley's proposal over Wimbledon derailed Alex slightly. He agreed to do what the man had asked, act as a ball boy – much to Jack's delight – and keep an eye out for anything strange in a rare moment of goodwill, and found himself stuck with it. But the thing which threw him the most was Sabina Pleasure.

"Alex!" she greeted him, cheerfully, the third day into his new 'job'. "Good day?"

He shrugged, returning her smile, and trying not to feel a little off-balance by her apparent enthusiasm for him. "Alright. You?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Court 7, not bad… Haven't got a clue who's playing who, but I'll find out when I get there, right?" he nodded, and she went on, "I hope it's someone interesting – I'd like to watch Maria Sharipova play, but there's no chance I will…" she paused. "D'you know, I've never been assigned a men's match? It's weird, isn't it? Have you ever been assigned a women's match?"

Alex frowned, thinking back over the few matches he'd worked so far. "I can't remember…" he said, slowly. "Probably. Possibly…?"

She grinned. "Idiot." She told him, casually, and he grinned. There was something relaxing about Sabina. She wasn't as interesting as James, or as attractive – not to him, though he tried not to think about it too much – but she relaxed him, didn't mind if he was a bit secretive, and didn't expect much from him. He didn't really understand why she'd decided to latch onto him; but that didn't mean he didn't enjoy her company.

"She's nice, James…" Alex told his friend – boyfriend? – in one of their long conversations. "Really, I think you'd like her."

"No, I think you'd like me to like her, and it doesn't always work like that." James pointed out, a little pettishly. "Sounds to me like she fancies you."

"If you're going to be stupid…"

"I'm not being stupid!" James protested. "She obviously fancies you, and you're probably encouraging her without even noticing it, and I'm in bloody Austria, so there's bugger all I can do about it!"

If James had been there, Alex would have raised an eyebrow at him, despairingly. "Look, James. You don't need to do anything, cos there's nothing to do something about." That sounded confusing, even to him. "Maybe – maybe – Sabina fancies me, OK? Maybe." James snorted. "Well, I can't say that she does for definite without sounding really arrogant, can I?" Alex pointed out, fairly.

"S'not arrogance if it's true, Al." James said, flippantly.

"Well, I don't know whether it is true, so it doesn't matter either way, does it?" James snorted again, and this time Alex ignored him. "But that doesn't mean I'm going to pull her the first chance I get, OK? She's nice, and she's pretty, but…" he made a sound that was as near as he could get to a verbal shrug. "She's not…" he searched for a word. "She's, um… not…"

"A boy?" James asked, dryly.

Alex frowned. "I don't think that makes any difference, to be honest." He said, slowly. "I don't think it matters to me either way." He shrugged, even thought James couldn't see it. "Not that I know for sure. I mean, I'm fourteen, I don't have to have made a decision yet, right?"

"How very modern of you." James returned, obviously determined to be at his most infuriating. Alex sighed, annoyed.

"For heaven's sake, she's not you!" he said, in a rush, and then stifled his reaction to his own words. He would have sworn that that wasn't what he meant to say.

There was a long, long pause. "Alex…" James said, finally, voice had gone very soft, and rather contrite.

"I have homework." Alex said, stiffly. "I have to go."

"Alex, please…"

"Bye, James." He said, quickly, and hung up. When the phone rang again, he didn't answer it.

Regardless of what he considered to be James' completely groundless fears over his faithfulness to their not-quite-relationship, Alex continued to stick with Sabina; and when, towards the end of the competition (and the end of the term), everything turned upside down on his surveillance 'mission' at Wimbledon, with the fake security guard, and the drugged water, he was grateful when she offered him a chance to get away from it all.

James didn't see it quite like that.

They hadn't mentioned Alex's outburst much since it happened, though James had brought it up a couple of times with a surprising amount of tenderness for a nearly-fifteen-year-old boy. The phone calls had gone on as usual – no fixed time, no fixed length, no fixed day, just regular calls to keep in contact. Alex worried that they'd start to get bored of each other, on the basis of 'familiarity breeds contempt', and James told him he was being paranoid

When he told him about what had happened at Wimbledon, James had apparently been torn between resignation and amusement. "Trust you." he grinned. "'Could make a storm in a teacup' was a phrase they invented for you, wasn't it?"

"Shut up." Alex told him, without heat. "I didn't mean to, but, God, he was trying to kill me, what the hell else could I do?"

"Fair point…" James acknowledged. "But – could you not have just called in some back up from your MI6 buddies? Wouldn't that have been simpler?"

Alex sighed. "Yeah, if I thought they'd actually, you know, turn up."

"Oh, yeah." James nodded. "So – what happens now?"

Alex paused. "I, er- I'm going to go and stay with Sabina for a bit. Her parents have rented a house in Cornwall – great surfing…"

For a couple of seconds, James was silent, then he said, slowly. "Cornwall's nice, isn't it? I've, um… I've never been there."

"Yeah." Alex nodded. "It's nice. My uncle and I used to go rock-climbing there – and scuba-diving, and stuff like that. It's fun; I'd invite you if it weren't for the fact that it's not my holiday to invite people on…"

When James replied, Alex could hear the fondness in his voice. "Then I guess I can quell all my jealous urges. Plus, I get nearly a month of you all to myself, I suppose this Sabina girl can have you for a couple of days."

"That's big of you, thanks." Alex retorted, sarcastically, but he was grinning. It was a relief that James wasn't trying to be difficult over this, even if it was something of a surprise. He made a quick mental note not to underestimate James again.

When he got back from the affair at Skeleton Key, totally wiped and wanting nothing more than to collapse into bed, and sleep – or hide, depending on which way you looked at it – for at least a fortnight, it was to find an anxious Jack and several letters waiting for him. He endured the hug from Jack, ate the dinner she'd made without tasting any of it, and accepted her advice that a warm bubble bath would make him feel much better. Then he stumbled upstairs to his room, and collapsed onto the bed, letters still clutched in one hand.

He lay there for maybe ten minutes, staring at the ceiling, unwilling to close his eyes for fear of what he might see. Lazily, movements sluggish with near exhaustion, he brought the letters up to examine them, vaguely recognising the hand-writing as James'.

For a few moments, he just stared at them – then he put them down on the bed, and headed, rather clumsily, over to the bathroom; a warm bath was sounding good right now, and maybe James' letters would help him relax.

'Dear Alex,' the first letter read,

'I rang you a couple of days ago – well, fifteen minutes ago for me, but at least a couple of days ago for when you get this, maybe even a week or so – because you said you'd probably be back from Cornwall by now, and the lady you live with – Jack, right? – said that you'd been sent to America by MI6. I hope to god you're OK right now. You are, right?'

Alex managed to dredge up a weak smile at that.

'It's probably something dangerous and horrible, and I want to know all about it. I mean, not only because these things read like a damn adventure story for boys, but also cos – well, it's good to talk, isn't it? Closure, or whatever. Whenever you feel like talking, I'll listen, just like last time.

'I bet I'm much better at it than that Sabina.

'…Just joking. Really.'

The rest of the letter outlined what he been doing recently, chatting about normal things which helped relax Alex far more than anything else.

'God, I'm worried about you, Alex.' The second letter started, much less formally. 'I know I shouldn't be – or, I should be, but I shouldn't be telling you that I am, because of 'undue strain', or whatever, but I am. I keep ringing, on the off-chance that you'll be back, but you're not, and I haven't got a clue what's happening to you.

'I should have expected this, I know – I mean, I kind of knew what you do, but… it's a bit more real now.' Alex could almost sense his friend's shrug in the words, 'I can't complain, though. I'm not the one who has to live through it. I really hope you're OK, though. You are, right?'

The third letter was much more formal than the second – it had obviously been drafted several times – but Alex could read, in the things James had carefully not said, the worry and concern, and it was amazingly comforting. James' repeated efforts to be there for him, even when he couldn't physically be there were touching and reassuring, so when Alex got out the bath, the first thing he did was call James.

"Alex!" he exclaimed. "Wow! Are you OK? Where were you?"

He managed a smile. "Can I tell you that later? I mean – I'm coming to Austria in a couple of days, aren't I?"

"This Thursday, yeah." James agreed, though the thread of worry hadn't left his voice. "And – yeah, I guess it'd be easier to wait. Face-to-face is always more fun, right?"

Alex actually chuckled at that. "Depends how close your faces are, I guess." He returned, through a yawn, and James faked a shocked gasp.

"Why, Alex, I never thought I'd hear you say something suggestive!" he said, mock-outraged – then his voice softened, as he said, cautiously, "Are you OK, though?"

Alex paused, thinking about it. "Um – I guess." He shrugged. "Bit bruised up, but I'm OK."

"Seems like you've got new bruises every time I see you." James said, rather sadly, before forcibly injecting some humour into his voice as he said, "Is it some kind of twisted fashion statement for you Brits? Should I get some bruises of my very own before I come, is that what I need to do to be cool?"

Alex lay back on his pillows with a sigh. James' chatter and gentle mockery should have been exhausting, but it was strangely reassuring. This, he could deal with. James seemed to realise that, and kept talking, even though he wasn't getting much back from the other boy. By the time he rang off, Alex was feeling far better than he would have thought possible when he got back that morning.

The next day, Alex got a phone call from Sabina, inviting him to the South of France for a fortnight.

"…The weather's supposed to be wonderful, and the house we've rented is huge, so it'd be great if you could come…?" she finished, after a long spiel of what amounted to little more than an advertisement for the place.

Alex felt a sudden rush of affection for her. It was nice of her to have thought of him, even if she did have the 'dark ulterior motives' that Tom had accused her of, and Alex half-believed she did. So it was with some regret that he said, slowly, "I'm really sorry, Sab, but, er… I'm going to Austria. You remember I mentioned my friend, James? He's invited me, he asked me over a while back… I'm really sorry, I'd have loved to come, but – I really can't."

"Oh." She couldn't quite keep the disappointment from her voice. "Oh, well – it doesn't matter. I hope you'll have a great time in Austria." Despite the disappointment obvious in her tone, she sounded sincere. "Next time, I'll just have to get in quicker!"

She began pestering about him with questions about James – "Is he tall, dark and handsome? Can you introduce me?" – and they moved on.

When he got off the plane, James was waiting for him, just like last time, and Alex grinned, relieved to see him.

"Alex." James practically beamed back. "You OK?"

He nodded, slowly. "Yeah…"

James frowned at him. "You sure? You don't look fine…"

Alex mustered up a half-hearted glare. "Oh, thanks." He retorted. "You sure know how to flatter a guy."

"I don't need to flatter you, you're a sure thing." James shrugged, with a grin so Alex knew that he was joking. "C'mon. Car. Now."

"Pushy little bastard, aren't you?" Alex ribbed, good-naturedly, as he climbed into the comfortable black car.

"You should respect your elders." James told him, with a sniff, putting on a disdainful face.

"You're older than me by, what, two months? Three?"

"Yeah, so what?" James retorted, sliding into the seat next to him. "Still puts me a school year ahead of you." he shot Alex an evil grin. "I'll be out of school for a full year before you – how's that feel?"

"Don't mind." Alex told him, deliberately off-handed. He looked at James as the car started up. "What're you going to do?" he asked, casually. "Once you leave school?"

James shrugged. "Dunno. Prob'ly take a gap year or several. See the sights. Take a couple of months out to annoy the hell out of you, while you're still in school, lounging around doing nothing and helping you with your homework…"

"As if!"

"…Might go to South America," he continued, ignoring Alex's interruption, "Practice my Spanish, build roads or something – do something 'worthwhile'." He shrugged. "I've got a while yet to decide. How about you?"

"Probably won't be able to take a gap year." Alex said, looking out the window. "I doubt I could justify it to MI6."

"You'll be eighteen then, though – they won't be able to do anything to you." James said, softly.

Privately, Alex doubted that MI6 were ever going to let him go, but he didn't voice that comment. Now wasn't the time. Later, maybe, depending on how things went, but not now. Not when he'd just got here. "Yeah." He agreed, pasting a smile on his face. "Yeah, of course. Forgot that."

James looked at him, rather suspiciously, but let it go.

"I got your letters." Alex said, after a few seconds of silence. "It was – they were nice. It was nice to get them, once I got back."

"Letters are more fun than emails, right?" James said, looking doubtful, "I've got this friend, Lucy – she said that letters were more romantic, but I think she was talking out her arse… but they're…more personal. Nicer. Right?"

Alex shrugged, and smiled. "I don't know about 'romantic'…" he trailed off, brain finally catching up with himself. "Hang on, why would this girl – Lucy, or whoever – think you want to send me something romantic? And – how come I don't know about her? I told you about Sabina!"

"Lucy's just a friend…" James defended.

"So's Sabina." Alex returned, smartly.

"It never came up… plus, I haven't just met her, I've known Lucy since I was tiny, we went to nursery together…"

"So, in other words, I have more reason to be jealous of 'Lucy' than you do of Sabina!" Alex said, annoyed.

"Alex, please." James said, calmly. "I'm not going to have a fight with you when you've just arrived."

Alex took a deep breath, and forced himself to calm down. They weren't even at the house yet – it was quite a long drive from the airstrip to the Sprintz' house – and Alex was trying to pick a fight. In all honesty, he didn't know why he was being so prickly and difficult, but it couldn't be much fun for James. "Sorry." He said, after a long pause. "I – don't know why I'm being so difficult." He finished, honestly, figuring that honesty was the best policy at the moment.

"Dad warned me you might be." James returned, candidly. "I mean, it's not that he thinks you're nasty, or whatever, it's just – you've been through 'something terrible', and you had all control taken away from you, and he said you might well be trying to assert your control by being contrary and argumentative." Alex stared at him, and he flushed darkly. "S'what Dad said." He muttered, shifting rather uncomfortably.

"…That actually makes sense." Alex said, slowly, and James beamed.

"Oh, good." Then he changed the subject, his motive completely transparent, trying to get Alex's attention on to other things. "So, I don't know what we're going to do while we're here… Dad's got a business meeting in Paris, though, and he said we could come with him, if we wanted to, and stay for however long… that's at the end of the week, four or five days before we go to London… he said if we wanted, we could stay on there, then take the EuroStar to London at the end…?"

Alex grinned, leaning back and letting James' chatter wash over him again. It was good to be back with him.

The first day he spent with James was quite, almost peaceful, despite the all-too-frequent flashbacks of his time at Cayo Esqueleto, that he was liable to get. It made relaxing difficult, but he knew James was trying to help things so he could, keeping their conversations quiet, and their activities – what there was, because they didn't do much that first day; despite the lovely weather, they spent most of it just lounging on the terrace of the house, overlooking the stunning grounds, playing card games, and chatting aimlessly – gentle and relaxing. Alex had to admit that James' tactics were working; he was more relaxed now than he had been for the past couple of months.

James just seemed to have that effect on him.

Alex had the same room as before, which also helped; it didn't feel like home, certainly – he was too new to the house, and it was all too grand and impressive for that – but it was reassuringly familiar, in a grandiose sort of way.

Dinner the first night was quiet, and Dieter was noticeably absent; one of the servants Alex was still getting used to, but assumed was the butler or someone like that, informed James that "Mr. Sprintz was detained in Vienna and would return soon".

James was remarkably unaffected by that; when Alex brought it up, he shrugged and said, calmly,

"He doesn't do this often now. He's at home more, and – he's really trying, you know? He doesn't let work take over everything. So, if he sometimes misses dinner, it doesn't matter… stuff like that happens, and he doesn't do it often. Point Blanc changed both of us."

"Yeah it really did." Alex agreed, thoughtfully. "Who would have thought that you could become so – good?"

James mock-leered. "I could be bad if you wanted me to be, baby."

Alex laughed. "You're going to need to work on that one, if you want it to actually, you know, work."

James grinned back, delighted to see his friend so relaxed.

Half-way through, though, James said, suddenly, "Hey, d'you remember Nicholas Marc? Was at Point Blanc with us?"

Alex frowned. "Yeah. French, right? His father owns an airline, or something like that…?"

James shrugged. "I don't know what his father does, but yeah, he's French. Lives in Paris. It's just – he wrote to me a couple of days ago – while you were still being shot at, probably," he grimaced, "And… he wants to 'talk about it'."

Alex nodded slowly. "Right. Well – do you want to talk about it?"

"I have." James pointed out, shrugging again. "I do, in fact – with you. But… he doesn't have you to talk to, poor bastard," James didn't look a bit sorry for the other boy; in fact, if anything, he looked rather smug, "So I figured I should try and help you. I was thinking – since he lives in Paris, like I said – that we could maybe meet up there? Cos, then you'll be there, and you're better at this than me."

Alex paused, frowning lightly. "I, er…I don't think that's such a good idea, James. I mean, you meeting up with him is fine, but – I'm supposed to be a secret, you know? And you two are kind of… high-profile."

James scowled a little, but Alex knew it wasn't aimed at him. "Look, Alex… it can't hurt you to meet up with him. It's going to be at his house, probably, or our hotel, so no one need see you, and – it'll be fine. I promise. I mean… what harm can it do, right?"

If Alex had been older and more acquainted with the job he was in, the answer to that would have been obvious, but he was fourteen, and though he was on a fair way to being a practiced spy, he was far from being a hardened veteran.

So he nodded, slowly, and James' face relaxed into a smile. "It's gonna be fine, Al, I promise, OK?"

Dieter arrived the next day, giving his son a warm, affectionate greeting, predominantly in German, hugging him too him, and smiling down at the boy, before turning to Alex with a warm smile, which faltered a little as he took in Alex's bruised face.

"It is good to see you again, Alex." He said, sincerely, putting his hands on Alex's shoulders. "But – are you alright? What has happened to you?"

Alex shrugged, rather uncomfortably. "Nothing much. Nothing important, at any rate."

Dieter gave him a sharp look. "Well… you have seen a doctor, at least, then?" he asked, voice warm with concern.

Alex looked away. "Not exactly, no." he admitted, and Dieter frowned, while James stared.

"You didn't tell me that!" he cried, apparently horrified. "I was certain you'd been checked over!"

"It's OK, James, I'm fine." He said, quickly, and Dieter was the one who answered, calmly,

"I am afraid you only think you are fine, Alex. I do not mean to offend you, but it would be wise to be checked over, no? I should like you to see a doctor, at least to put my mind at rest. I should not like you to collapse on me!" his words were softened by a friendly smile.

Slowly, Alex nodded – there was little else he could have done, without looking rude.

Dieter's smile widened. "Thank you – I shall arrange a doctor for tomorrow. He will be very discrete, I assure you."

"Thank you." Alex said, awkwardly. "It's, um… It's very kind of you…"

"It is nothing." Dieter assured him, and the conversation moved on.

The atmosphere that night at dinner was much more calm and relaxed than it had been when Alex had visited last holidays. Dieter was calmer and more open, and James was far more natural with his father, which made for a far more relaxing meal. Dieter seemed to welcome Alex without question, something which Alex was unbelievably grateful for. That sort of calm acceptance was far from common for him.

That night, after his and James' now almost-ritualistic film – Harry Potter 1, which they had spent the entire time mocking – Alex allowed himself the luxury of a long, hot bath. It was a habit he was slipping into, he noticed, of taking baths to relax and calm himself – probably 'caught' from living with jack, who swore by the healing properties of a tub of hot water. He found it really did help, though – by the time he climbed into bed, he was relaxed and sleepy, to the point of actually finding it difficult to keep his eyes open.

So the knock on his door was far from a welcome intrusion.

"Hallo?" he managed, voice heavy with sleepiness.

James appeared in his room, still fully dressed, a tense, worried look on his face. "Oh!" he looked taken aback to see Alex already in bed. "Sorry…"

"It's OK." Alex really couldn't help that his voice slurred a little. "What is it?"

James sat on the bed next to him, hand hovering over his leg, but not touching him. "I was just thinking about what you said – about not having seen a doctor. I never really asked you properly if you were OK, and I'm really sorry. I should have checked, made sure, all that…"

"'M fine." Alex reassured him, sleepily.

"But – really? You might not be; you could have got a serious injury, and I could have really damaged you, because I didn't bother to check properly… You might have - broken ribs, or something, and I wouldn't know. You wouldn't know…"

"I'd know." Alex assured him, rather indistinctly, through a yawn. "'Ve had 'em before…"

He didn't see James' face darken as he said that. He did feel it, though, when James hand settled on his leg, warm and faintly protective. "I'm going to make sure you don't get hurt again." He promised, fiercely.

Alex was a little more than half asleep now, and he murmured, almost inaudibly, "You c'n't promise tha', James…"

"I just did." He said, quietly, leaning forward, and pressing a gentle kiss to Alex's lips. "Sleep well, Alex." He said, softly. "Sorry for keeping you up…"

By the time Alex roused the energy to return the sentiment, James had already gone.

Hope you liked!

Lol, ami xxx