The briefing before Agent Jones' flight was hardly what anyone would call brief. He was given a packet of information to sort through on the plane, as well as ID badges and a list of documents to find during his stay in London. Fortunately, this was one of the few times that Agent Jones was allowed to be himself on a mission. There was no need to pose as someone else or pretend to be anything but Agent Alfred F. Jones from the CIA. As it had turned out, his personal and professional background would give him complete access to the databases at MI6, without having to even try.

What had been even more miraculous was that one of the MI6 agents had figured out that the breach in their system had come from America. Though they weren't positive where exactly, or who. Hence, they had called their American counterparts to see if they had experienced a similar problem. All Agent Jones' superior did was feign surprise and offer to send their best over to help them figure it out.

Which was how Alfred F. Jones found himself on a plane to England.

The flight had taken longer than he had expected, but when he stopped off at Heathrow, the sunny American didn't look a bit phased. He seemed a head taller than most people as they loomed throughout the terminal. And with honey colored hair with a strange cowlick in the front and sky blue eyes shining from behind his glasses, he was fairly easy to spot in the crowd.

As the American man wound his way through the crowds, muttering apologies whenever he would bump into someone, his eyes searched over the expanse of people. He had been informed that he would be meeting with an MI6 agent who would escort him to their offices, but he had not been informed what the person would look like. With a name like Agent Kirkland, it could've been male or female and Agent Jones wouldn't have known any better.

At the luggage rack, the American simply observed the people that milled about him. Families, couples, businessmen and women, or bohemians chatting to each other as they waited for their luggage. The glass windows along the wall allowed him to peer out and catch a glimpse of the city with planes taking off and making their landings to mar the landscape. A warning bell dinged, bring the blue eyed American's attention back to the conveyor belt as it begun to spin lazily, spitting out luggage every few seconds.

In a matter of minutes, his own navy blue duffel bag had been spit out and slowly slipped down the luggage rack. As he waited for it to come closer, Agent Jones stood silently with his hands shoved deep into his pockets, watching as his items came ever closer. He heard a soft giggle coming from his right, dragging his attention away from his possessions. A small gaggle of girls eyed him with grins on their face as they waved sheepishly towards the American male.

He waved back happily before glancing back at the conveyor belt to find that his bag had managed to slip past him. Jumping slightly, he managed to snatch the strap of his bag and pull to away before it had gone too far out of reach. Another fit of giggles erupted from the girls that had caught his attention. Flashing them a charming grin, Agent Jones hoisted the bag over his shoulder and simply strode away towards the welcoming dock.

Even though Agent Jones was an American CIA computer geek, he certainly didn't look the part. Blonde hair and blue eyes effectively contrasted sun-kissed skin and a Hollywood-esque smile. He had the build of an athlete with lean muscles on a long frame, the epitome of All-American-boy-next-door. However, once the man opened his mouth, the appearance of suave American disappeared entirely and you were left with a handsome geek.

It seemed as if this terminal would never end, but it finally came to a close as blinding sunlight invaded his vision from the oversized windows on every wall. The vast room had to be filled with hundreds of people, the air filled with screams, shouts, and crying over the hum of voices. People were shaking hands or hugging as if they hadn't seen each other in years. Some looks nervous or lost, and others looked overly confident as they strolled out of the great sliding doors into the London air. Scattered throughout were people holding signs with names written on them, or something that Agent Jones would assume to be names.

He could hear a variety of languages being spoken all around him. From Indonesian to Afrikaans, his ears picked up on them all. He witnessed some people using their hands to sign in ways of communication, though his ears picked up on traces on conversations that he understood. There were two girls nearby, one chattering excitedly in Russian about seeing their brother while the younger stood quiet, glaring at anyone who dared to look at them. Alfred merely chuckled to himself as he wove his way around the people until a plain white sign caught his eye.

Jones.

Pushing his way through the crowd, Agent Jones stepped around a throng of people to catch a glimpse of the person holding the sign that bore his name. It was a young man with messy-looking blonde hair dressed in a sharply tailored suit. Emerald colored eyes scanned the crowd lazily, peeking out from beneath the most obscene looking eyebrows that Alfred had ever beheld. It looked as if caterpillars had crawled onto his face and died there. Another man in a sharp-looking suit stood next to him with calmer blonde hair and moss green eyes that focused on a tablet in his hand.

Needless to say, Agent Jones felt very underdressed in his khaki pants, converses, and black button-down shirt. Nevertheless, the grinned excitedly and pushed towards the two men. He stopped short of the two, cocking his head slightly at the man holding the sign as his duffle bag slipped slightly from his shoulder. The blonde holding the sign glanced at the American standing before him and frowned slightly before waving his hand dismissively.

"Sorry, but I don't believe you're the Jones we're looking for."

A small smirk slipped into Agent Jones' grin as he slid his hand into his pocket, pulling out his wallet. The man's accent was so positively British that it made the American squirm slightly on the inside with excitement. He wanted nothing more than to make the Briton repeat an array of things just hear him speak. Flipping open the wallet, he waved it slightly before the green eyed Englishman's face.

The effect was immediately as the man frowned deeper, his overly sized eyebrows furrowing before he looked up immediately at the American with a surprised expression. Agent Jones flashed him a lopsided grin before pocketing his wallet again and repositioning his bag onto his shoulder.

"Agent Kirkland, I presume?" He asked, his voice professional but with a teasing undertone to it.

The Agent scowled slightly as his partner looked up at the American and smiled gently. "Yes. I do apologize. You're not…quite what I was expecting."

Alfred laughed with a boisterous noise that made the Englishman wince in his stance and earn them a few looks, "Nah. Don't worry, I get that all the time." The shorter blonde stuck out his hand from beside the other Agent, smiling as he did so. "Agent von Bock. It's a pleasure to be working with you on this case, Agent Jones."

Shaking the other's hand, Alfred flashed him a charming grin, "Likewise."

Oh little did he know.

A/N: These chapters won't be very long I'm afraid. I love long chapter, but they'll get longer eventually as action happens.

Agent Jones and Agent Kirkland meet at last.

What do you guys think?

By the way, I've never been to Heathrow. This is actually based on my airport experiences in Hong Kong and Newark.