MonRosalee's Playlist Chapter 37: The World Is Not Enough (JB), a grimm fanfic

So I have a thing for James Bond and have been playing with the idea of using Bond themes... and then a chance just up and presents itself. Awesome! So here's the immediate follow-up to Shadows of the Night. Thanks to LittleBounce for suggesting music by Garbage, which led me here. You are awesome!

As always, I like-a da feedback. I am taking insane amounts of liberty with this, so please don't yell at me for not fact-checking the information about British RAF Pilot Call Signs. I will fact-check major points, but come on, now... However, I did have to change the date because the Russians didn't decide to help the Allies until 1941. Thanks to my history geek fiancé for that...

Song requests and thoughts on what sort of James Bond-y shenanigans we can get Raymond and Marina into also welcome! (Shenanigans of the naked persuasion will be occurring in the M-rated companion Monroe and Rosalee Make a Porno and Other Smutty Stories- shameless self plug! YAY!). And other lifetimes' smut as well. Because my mind is apparently a fountain of ideas when it comes to these drabbles but an outright professional-grade firehose when it comes to smut.

I own nothing but feels and a smutty, dirty mind...

Eastern Poland, December 1941

I know how to hurt.

I know how to heal.

I know what to show

And what to conceal.

I know when to talk,

And I know when to touch.

No-one ever died from wanting too much.

The world is not enough,

But it's such a perfect place to start, my love.

And if you're strong enough,

Together we can take the world apart, my love.

Raymond woke in darkness in an unfamiliar place. He started to panic, and a hand clasped his shoulder, small but strong. His eyes adjusted. Marina. Of course.

"Hello, Raymond. You sleep good?" She wrapped her arms around him and gave him a hug, kissing his cheeks as a greeting. He felt a slight stirring in his loins, but he willed it away. Russian women were just very affectionate. Even if they were sitting on a bed, she would do this with anybody.

"What time is it?" he asked, hoping to divert his attention away from the area below his belt. The room was full of her scent, her lemon and sage… no, concentrate.

"Sun go down. You sleep long. I keep you safe. Eat, clean, and we go, yes?" She pointed to the table; some bread, cheese, and a small sliver of some sort of salted fish sat on a plate with a glass of what he hoped was beer; next to it was a pitcher, a small bowl, and two cloths. He put his hand to his cheek and was stunned how quickly the thick stubble had grown.

"I say, you wouldn't happen to have a razor and a mirror? I fancy a shave…" She cocked her head, questioning, so he mimed shaving. When she still looked confused, he took her hand and put in on his cheek, ignoring how much he adored feeling her hand on his skin. He rubbed her hand against the stubble.

"No, you need look Russian. Russian no shaaay-vuh." She was so cute as she dragged out the "a" sound. He nodded. Yes, of course. They had been told that if they went down and were picked up by allies to blend in: imitate everything about them, their gait, how they held themselves, how they held a fork. Be a monkey. She handed him the plate.

"Eat." She watched him intently as he ate. He found it rather unnerving, but realized she was probably making sure he ate everything. The glass did indeed have beer, but it was very different from what he was used to back home. He drank it anyway, and the bitterness grew on him.

As he ate, Marina looked him over. He was very tall, and very scrawny. He would need to be plumped up a little to pass for a proper Russian, but with the rationing, many of the young men were looking thinner. He had dark, curly hair and deep, dark eyes. Her fingers still tingled from when he'd grabbed her hand and rubbed his sandpapery cheek with it. She had seen pictures of English men, Chamberlain and Churchill and King George. King George looked like this man, tall, dark-haired, and serious. But Raymond was much more attractive. There were plenty of handsome men in the town, but she had known them all her life, and therefore knew their faults, their darkness. This stranger intrigued her.

He ate everything on his plate and set the plate down. He looked over at her, and she smiled and took the plate. She must have sensed he wanted a moment, because she took it upstairs and did not return immediately. He quickly stripped off his borrowed clothes and washed himself with one of the cloths.

She returned while he was still undressed.

"I'm sorry, but do you mind?" he asked as he covered himself. He heard that impatience again. She obviously didn't care that he was naked, and she took the dirty clothes from the bed. She went into the chest of drawers and pulled open two of the drawers.

"Clothes." One drawer was full of shirts, one of pants. They were of many different sizes, and she started pulling some out, trying to gauge him. The clothes she hastily pulled out last night were far too small, but now they were actually going somewhere and he needed to be properly dressed. She glance up to see him still hunched over, covering his manhood.

"Why you stand like that? Hard to tell how big you are."

"WHAT?" He shrieked, feeling like he would faint at her brazenness. She looked startled by his sudden outburst. Actually, she looked hurt.

"I try help. You need look Russian before we go to place… You big, need proper clothes…" she looked close to tears. He felt like a complete arse. After all she'd done for him, he'd misunderstood her and yelled at her. Shit. He needed to relax. Again, blend in. Russians apparently had no regard for modesty… he steeled himself, knowing that this would be the first woman who had seen him naked since he was a child. He stood up taller and dropped his hands.

"I'm so sorry, my dear… I forgot where I was…" She cautiously approached him with some shirts and a few pairs of pants. He allowed her to hold them up to him, hoping she wouldn't touch him while his pants were off. This seemed like such a dirty scenario, but he found himself wanting to see her as naked as he was… he'd only just met her, why was he wishing she would ravish him? He'd never known the touch of a woman, even when on leave and the other boys found willing ladies, he wasn't interested… Ugh, stop thinking about it! Think of anything else… He called Hitler's face to mind and felt the tension in his loins dissipate... well, at least that bastard's ugly mug was enough to keep him polite. She relieved the silence with a question.

"What is deer?"

"Hmm? Oh, uh, it's an animal… uh, with antlers…" he pulled his hands up to his temples, approximating antlers. She looked confused.

"Why you call me that? Do you want eat me?"

"What? Oh, no. Dear. It's different…" for some unknown reason, he took her hand and traced the spellings on her skin. "D-E-E-R." He approximated the antlers again. "I called you D-E-A-R… it means… uh…"

"Like sweetheart?" She was on to him… she must know he wanted her… crap, crap, crap. Breathe.

"Umm, yes… but less personal?" She nodded with understanding. She put her hands up like antlers.

"Ah-lain." He imitated her. "La-poosh-ka," she said, taking his hand and kissing it.

"La-poosh-ka." She smiled.

"You learn fast. But must be fast, not late."

People like us

Know how to survive.

There's no point in living

If you can't feel the life.

We know when to kiss,

And we know when to kill;

If we can't have it all,

Then nobody will.

The world is not enough,

But it's such a perfect place to start, my love.

And if you're strong enough,

Together we can take the world apart, my love.

They dressed him quickly and climbed the stairs. The house was dark.

"Yakov sleep." She said quietly. "If stop, you no talk, yes?"

"Yes. Mute. I'm your brother, and I'm mute."

"But you not defff, you hear. But look like understand talking, yes?" He nodded, but didn't speak.

"Good. I keep you safe." She led him through the town. Nobody stopped them. They came to a small building that looked like a post office. She looked left and right and, when sure they weren't being watched, tugged him into an alleyway. They went around the back and down a small flight of steps. She tapped the same pattern she had tapped on the glass the night before on the door. The door opened, and they stole inside.

Raymond could not believe his eyes. There was a whole little command center, with multiple radios, a telegraph, a large table with a map, books… all hidden under what he thought was a post office. Marina led him over to one of the radios and started speaking to the operator. She must have introduced them, because she said "Raymond" and the man extended his hand. Raymond smiled and shook it, trying to be polite. Marina slapped the back of his head.

"You Russian. Russian no smile without reason. People think you stupid. Now Dmitry think you stupid."

"Oh, terribly sorry. I was only trying to be polite…" Dmitry rolled his eyes and handed the headphones to Marina. She also rolled her eyes as she took them, holding one side to her ear while offering the other to him. She held the microphone and started talking to the person on the other end. First in Russian, then in Polish, then French. It took some doing, but eventually they got patched through to somebody who spoke English. The whole time, Raymond was enjoying being so close to her, smelling the lemon and sage… his body was drawn to her, and the fact that she was so smart only made him want more… to know more, to see more… Eventually, a familiar voice crackled over the headset.

"Boy Blue." Raymond, again being impolite, grabbed the microphone. Marina released her headphone to give him privacy.

"Boy Blue, Brown Fox. Yes, I'm alive. No time to explain, chap. I'm somewhere in R-plus-5. What are my orders… Yes, I can wait a moment. Thank you." A moment passed, then he started speaking again. "Oh, good. Yes, sir, Brown Fox, reporting from somewhere in R-plus-5. Yes. Yes… I see. Yes, I will, Sir. Indeed. Let me ask." He turned to Marina. "Where, exactly, am I?"

"Tell him B-plus-8."

"B-plus-8… yes. Yes. I have. Yes. Indeed. Those are my orders then? Very well. Thank you. Yes, I will regularly. Thank you… ummm…" he looked at Marina again. "Is Red Wolf taken? Splendid. Thank you. Over and out." He handed the microphone back to Marina and sat down on the floor, rubbing the bridge of his nose between his eyes. Marina dropped the connection and handed it back to Dmitry. She kneeled next to him.

"I'm to embed myself." She looked confused. "I live here now. I'm to get a job, and live among you. Keep tabs on everything, and send periodic messages. This is my life now, here in… what's B-plus-8?"

"Bialystok. Should be Poland, now Russia. That is fine. Come, we will make you new identity." She offered her a hand. He took it, and was once again flooded with warmth. Well, if he got to be with her, maybe this wouldn't be so bad…

I feel safe. I feel scared.

I feel ready, and yet unprepared.

The world is not enough,

But it's such a perfect place to start, my love.

And if you're strong enough,

Together we can take the world apart, my love.

The world is not enough.

No, nowhere near enough.