Prompt: With the new James Bond movie out I was wondering if you could do an AU with Haymitch being Bond and Effie being his Bond girl. Thankyouu x

Any James Bond au was always going to be a little bit cracky ;)

CIA versus MI6

The girl was easy and Haymitch was bored.

He ordered her a new glass of whatever fruity cocktail she was drinking, rolling his eyes at how much of a lightweight she was. His target was her husband, Seneca Crane, Snow's second. Those people dealt in anything from drugs to guns, they controlled the black market and now apparently they had extended to international surveillance. He needed the microfilms locked in a safe in Crane's living-room and the wife was the key to getting there.

She hadn't been hard to find, she spent her days haunting her husband's Casino. The Cranes lived on the penthouse on the last floor of the building.

Young, bored and dumb. An easy prey.

Haymitch was disappointed.

He liked a challenge.

She was tipsy bordering on drunk now and he laid another layer of charm, boldly placing a hand on her leg and letting it run up her thigh, under her dress. She shivered, tossed him a heated gaze and invited him to go up to the penthouse with her in a husky voice. He accepted with a smile.

She was hot, that much he couldn't deny. Perfect body, short golden dress that showed enough to be attractive without being vulgar, a pink wig cut in a short bob, blue eyes that could probably stop an army in its track… He had already forgotten her name but he figured it wasn't a problem. He would sleep with her if needed but he would rather get in and out quickly before Plutarch had an aneurism wondering why he wasn't staying on schedule. Plus, he could perfectly imagine Beetee and Chaff arguing in the van parked a few streets away about how best to deal with cameras and surveillance systems… He didn't think he had more than half an hour before his presence was detected.

The life of a CIA agent wasn't as funny as books and movie made it seem. Even if leggy women threw themselves at you at every given opportunity.

She was talking and laughing really loud and she started kissing him long before the elevator reached the twelfth floor. He was simply going to humor her with a few kisses at first but her tongue could do dirty thing and before he could understand how it happened he was completely lost in her. The kisses only grew more heated and dirtier with every floor the elevator passed and he had his hand firmly pressed between her legs when they stumbled in the penthouse, almost falling against the wall.

She slowed the kiss down and gently pushed his hand away before licking her lips.

"I will go change into something more… comfortable." she purred. "Make yourself at home."

"Sure, sweetheart." he smirked, watching her go before hurrying to the living-room. The safe was behind the huge painting of a roman arena, just like Plutarch had promised. He quickly took out the earpiece from his pocket and tapped on his cell phone to connect everything.

"Beetee, you're here?" he whispered, glancing over his shoulder to make sure the girl wasn't coming back. "I'm in."

"Good." Beetee's voice answered, blurred by statics. "Need to hurry. On their way."

"Great." He rolled his eyes. "Okay, how do I open this thing?" There were gadgets to use and he followed his friend's instructions until he heard the telltale click of the safe opening. "Got it." he triumphed, already grabbing the microfilms and everything else that he thought could be of import.

"And there I thought you really wanted to sleep with me. How insulting." a feminine voice declared behind his back. "Don't you know it is rude to use a lady in this fashion?"

He should have known.

Too easy.

"Who's that?" Beetee asked. "They're almost there, you need to get out. It's going to be hot in a few minutes."

"Already hot now." he snorted, turning around slowly, not exactly surprised to find the woman still in her short golden dress and towering high heels pointing a gun at him. Everything screamed she knew how to handle it from her stance to the grip she had on the weapon. She almost looked amused. "You double as bodyguard, sweetheart?"

"Which agency do you work for?" she asked instead. "I hope you realize you are a really lousy spy. I saw you coming from miles away. Seducing the wife to get the documents? How cliché."

"Who do you work for?" he frowned. Her whole persona was different. Gone was the fragile little dumb thing. Now she looked like a femme fatale – and, yeah, it was a turn-on.

"MI-6." she answered. "And you just compromised my entire operation. Hand the microfilms over."

"Explains the posh accent." he snorted. "I'm CIA."

"Americans." She shook her head. "Always stomping on problems that don't concern you. Give me the films."

He tilted his head on the side, burying his hands in his pocket. "No can't do, sweetheart. Got a mission."

"So do I." she retorted. "And I was there first."

The elevator doors opened with a ping and he cursed, pulling his gun out of his pocket. She didn't switch targets though but her attitude changed again. She looked frightened and small and unsure how to handle the gun.

"Seneca?" she called out, her voice simply terrified.

"Oh, you're good…" he commented.

"I know, thank you." she murmured right before Crane and his gorillas banged in the room. "Oh, Seneca! I was so scared!" She batted her eyelashes, taking a step closer to her 'husband' but something in the man's stare must have alarmed her because she suddenly stepped back, correcting her grip on her weapon. "Now, don't go imagining anything, my love… He forced me to invite him up, I swear."

"Brutus had his suspicions about you but I didn't want to believe it." Crane answered, shaking his head. "I can't believe you would cheat on me."

"Never, my love!" she cried out. "He forced me."

"Nobody forced you to jump on him in the elevator, did they?" Crane snorted. "There are cameras. I can't believe you would betray me like this."

The game was over and she knew it because suddenly she was standing taller and she glanced at Haymitch who simply shrugged. Crane plus four gorillas seemed doable for two people even if they were all equipped with heavy guns and all they had were handguns.

"Plan?" he asked in a detached, almost bored, voice.

"Hold on to those films." she ordered.

And then everybody was shooting and running. He followed her all the way through the penthouse to the staff stairs situated behind the kitchen. Getting out of the building proved to be difficult and a bullet grazed his arm just as they were stepping out. She helped him back up and they were running again – how she could run with those heels was a mystery. They stole a car and tried to lose the three black SUVs chasing them…

They ended up in the river, car and all, but at least, they were free of tail.

"Do you have an extraction team?" she asked through shattering teeth as he helped her out of the freezing – and polluted – water. Her pink wig was askew and she tossed it in the river, tousling the blond hair underneath.

"Yeah." he nodded. "Do you have a place to lie low?"

She nodded and guided him to an old clothes shop. Tigris the sign claimed. She stood next to the door and kept watch while he picked up the lock.

The first thing he did once they were inside was to contact his team.

"Good to hear from you." Chaff scoffed. "Why can't you ever do anything the easy way?"

"'Cause you would get bored." he retorted. "Listen, you and Beetee get the hell out of Dodge and stay hidden for now. I need an extraction team for two."

"Are you taking strays again?" his best friend mocked. "Coin won't like that."

"Coin can kiss my ass for all I care." he growled. Coin didn't like anything anyway and he was glad Plutarch had to deal with her more often than he did. "We've got an MI6 agent on our hands."

"I see." Chaff chuckled "How hot is the MI6 agent?"

"Who said anything about hot?" he grumbled, glancing over his shoulder to check on her. She had slipped her damp dress off and was walking around in her underwear apparently unconcerned that the black thong and bra didn't really hide anything. She was browsing clothes on the racks as if this was an usual shopping outing.

"Your voice." his best friend argued.

"She's a pain." he stated.

"Your type then." Chaff laughed. "Okay, I've got the specifics for your extraction."

He nodded as his friend detailed the place and time for him and then he cut the feed off, turning around to see she had draped herself in a red silk robe.

"We've got to wait until morning." he told her.

"How efficient." she deadpanned. "Come here so I can take a look at your arm."

"It's just a flesh wound." he argued.

"And that river is just one of the dirtiest in the country." she retorted. "Come in and take your shirt off."

"If you want me naked, all you have to do is ask." he taunted. He sat in front of her all the same and unbuttoned his wet shirt so she could have a look. She winced when she saw the wound – even though it wasn't so bad, really. "I've had worse."

Her eyes darted to the impossible to miss huge scar on his stomach and she cleared her throat. "I simply do not like blood."

"Original for a spy." he commented.

"This was my first assignment." she admitted. "And you blew away my chances at getting a promotion. Bad form."

She selected a shirt from one of the racks and tore it apart to make bandages.

"How long were you in there?" he frowned.

"Five years." she hummed, wrapping the clean cloth around his biceps. Her fingers were cold and yet every time they brushed against his skin he felt… hot. "I am happy it is over, truth be told. Playing the trophy wife gets taxing."

"Five years." he repeated. He had never been undercover so long. They usually used him for in and out operations. He was a tactician more than an actor. "That's… long."

"Indeed." she replied. "And he wasn't even a good lover…"

The remark was so out of the blue, his eyes shot up to hers. There was an amused spark in her gaze and an inviting pout on her lips.

"How did you convince him to marry you?" he asked.

"Well… I am an exceptional lover." she grinned. She tied the bandage around his arm before letting her hands trail down to his belt. "You should get out of these clothes before you catch a cold."

He was mistrustful of the whole thing and he grabbed her wrists. "What are you playing at?"

"Finishing what we started in that elevator." she retorted. "Leaving a lady hanging is rude. And it has been five years since I had decent sex. Besides… What else are we supposed to do until morning?"

He would have found arguments against that if she hadn't freed herself from his grip and opened her robe. The amount of creamy skin on display was… tantalizing. And he was attracted to her. Really attracted to her. She was hot and bad ass and difficult… And he might have a thing for tiny fiery women.

"My name's Haymitch." he said, licking his lips.

This time, when she reached for his belt, he let her. She peeled his wet clothes away from him with a devious grin. "Effie."

There wasn't much talking after that. There was a lot of rolling around, biting, scratching and kneading… Neither of them wanted to surrender to the other and the struggle for control was maybe more thrilling than the act itself. She was an exceptional lover, he decided, as she arched her back with a scream of pleasure against him.

Once he was spent, he remained slumped on her for a moment, trying to catch his breath. He felt her hand in his hair, eventually it slid down to the back of his neck. He felt the cold metal of her ring turning in her palm and all he had time to say was "Shit", then the needle pricked his neck.

He didn't even have time to roll away from her, good luck getting out from under his dead weight.

Figure of speech.

He hoped it was a sedative and not poison.

Everything turned black.

He was furious when he woke up. He had a foul taste in his mouth, his clothes were still damp, the wound on his arm was throbbing and the microfilms were just as gone as she was. He made it to the meeting point and refused to explain himself. Beetee was flying the airplane and so Haymitch grumbled in the back while Chaff made sure the gunshot wound wasn't infected.

"You've sulked enough." Chaff decided "Where are the microfilms?"

"With MI6." he mumbled.

His friend didn't let that deter him, he simply lifted an eyebrow. "And where is MI6? I was looking forward to meeting your hot girlfriend."

"Not my girlfriend." he spat. "And probably on her way back to England."

Chaff's laughter boomed out suddenly. "Oh, fuck… She gave you the slip. She beat you. Oh, Heavensbee will just love this story…"

"Not funny." he growled. "If I find her, I'm going to strangle her."

"You haven't failed a mission in years." Chaff mocked. "She must have been something." He thought back to her creamy skin, her devious grin and her dancing blue eyes – and he licked his lips. "Oh, boy… You're in love with that girl."

"Don't be stupid." he scoffed.

"She pulled one on you. You can't resist that." his friend insisted.

"Guys." Beetee shouted from the cockpit. "I've got an encrypted incoming transmission. It comes from a MI6 plane."

"That's Haymitch's girlfriend calling. Put her on speaker." Chaff laughed.

Haymitch simply rolled his eyes, not exactly surprised when Effie's voice boomed out of the speakers. "Haymitch?"

"Sweetheart." he snorted. "You left before I could buy you breakfast."

"I know… It was so rude of me, I wanted to apologize and check there were no hard feelings." she replied and he could hear the grin in her voice. "Work is work."

"Yeah." he scowled. "Work is work."

"I hope we can meet again sometimes." she added. "I enjoyed our date."

"Next time I see you, I'm killing you." he warned.

"Now, now, Haymitch…" She clicked her tongue. "Do not be a sore loser. Next time we meet, I will buy you dinner. My treat. As an apology. I would love a second date."

"You have a twisted idea of what dating is about." he commented.

"Why, we work so well together it would be a shame to let that go to waste…" she retorted. "If you ever come to England… Find me. Goodbye."

Despite himself, he chuckled. "Bye, sweetheart."

The transmission disconnected and he could hear Beetee laughing by himself in the cockpit. As for Chaff, he clapped his shoulder with his stump.

"You're either going to kill that girl or marry her." his friend predicted.

Thing was…

Chaff had a point.