Disclaimer: I own him you damn floozies, and you can't have him!
Sands: What the fuck have you been smoking?
Me: You're my bitch. Say another word and I....won't make out with you!
Sands: Cool, chica. Can I fucking leave now?
Me: Shut up.....and no.
Enjoy!
~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~
The phone beside his bed rang. Sands rolled over on his side, opening his eyes slightly. No one beside him, rare occurrence that it was it was fine with him. He hadn't had one night of fucking peace for a while. The phone rang again. The string of curses that he let out would make sailors from Ireland proud enough to buy him his own pub.
2:15 a.m.
He groaned smothering more profanities, reaching under his pillow to rest his hand on his gun.
The phone continued ringing.
Sands aimed the gun, "Ring again." He dared it.
RRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNGGGG!!!!!!!
He blew the damned thing off the table. He fell back among the rumpled sheets and pillows. He closed his eyes.
Brrrrrriiiiiiiiinnnnnnnng!
A sound like a growl of a rabid dog rose in his throat. Furious, he grabbed the cell phone from under his mattress.
"Unless this is a brief-case full of a shit-load of money, or an extremely gorgeous woman looking for a good fuck, I'm tracking you down and blowing your fucking brains out."
"We need you in." The voice responded.
"Listen, whoever you are Messenger, I told you little shits not to call me this early in the fucking morning."
"Come in. You'll get your answers."
Dial tone.
Motherfuckers.
He groaned getting up and pulling on his clothes.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"So who pushed the fucking code-red button?" Were the first words out of his mouth.
"Like the shirt, Sands." Agent Bradley remarked after taking a sip from his cheap coffee cup.
Sands looked down reading the shirt he had carelessly tugged on, 'Man's Best Friend' with an arrow pointing to his crotch. He flipped him off. Fucking asshole.
Bradley indicated the chair at the other side of the board room table. Sands took the hint and sat, putting his feet on the table.
Bradley picked up a remote and pressing a button the lights dimmed.
"Since when did this become fucking MI6?" Sands asked.
"Since you became fucking Bond." Bradley shot back.
Sands flipped him off with both hands this time.
Another press of a button and a screen lowered, displaying the face of a beautiful 18 year old girl. Blonde, green eyed, now that was unusual.
"You got me up at two in the morning to oogle girlie pictures? And you guys think I'm the fucking lunatic?"
"This is the daughter of the Irish Ambassador."
"She's a fox."
"She's missing."
"Alright, so she's a hot fox that's gone fucking missing? What do you want me to do about it?"
"The IRA's gonna have a fucking field day with this. The people who took her, well guess what no shit, they're claiming are Americans and they're not too happy with the whole damn thing. Threatening to start fucking World War Three if we don't bring her back. They've given us a week."
"Damn decent of them." Sands picked at his teeth, "So you want me to shoot them in the ass, get the princess back, hand her over to her father...still a virgin, and stop him from sending off his missles and making America look like fucking Apocalypse Now?"
"That's about it."
"Alright then, now can I go back to sleep?"
Bradley actually smirked. Ah assfuck, this was going to be bad. "Not quite, Sands. There's still one more matter of business we need to discuss."
"Such as?"
"Your partner."
What the fuck?
"She might be of some assistance in getting the leader of whoever is doing this to come out of hiding. The guy we've got as a suspect....well let's just say they are old friends. Or they were."
The door to his left opened.
"You've got to be shitting me." He muttered.
A woman approached. Honey brown hair right to below her shoulders, a filled out figure accented by the black leather pants, and tight blood red shirt, beneath black leather vest. Rose colored specs. Savage black kicks. She took one look at the empty table and drew her gun.
The shot rang as Sands drew his own pistol to find she had merely shot a hole through Bradley's mug. A steady stream of brown liquid pouring through it.
"I was told there would be chocolate crossiants here. It was the only reason why I got off my ass this morning to come down."
Bradley was gulping like a fish out of water, "You missed."
She cocked the gun with a flick of her wrist, "No, I gave you a warning. I never miss. Now get me my fucking crossiants before I 'miss you' again, comprende?"
Bradley touched the earpiece to his ear, "Can we get some chocolate crossiants in here and um.......another café latte? Yeah, thanks."
"Happy?" He asked her.
She replaced the gun and beamed, "Estatic. So what's the hubbub, bub?" She asked.
As Bradley restated the problem, Sands looked over his partner. He knew her from somewhere, and it was pissing him off that her couldn't seem to remember. The boots, felt familiar, or maybe he just liked them, but the crossiants? Fuck me, he chuckled realizing who she was. He caught a glimpse of writing on the shirt and strained to read it behind the protective hold of the vest.
"Ya want to see the whole message, dick?" She asked him and unzipped the vest the rest of the way. Sands stepped closet to see.
'Got Me? I'll do your body good'
Fast bitch, he smiled.
"Nosy little bastard, aren't ya?" She asked cocking her head
Sands reached out and removed her rose glasses, twirling them tauntingly in his fingers. Her eyes narrowed dangerously.
"You want to give me my fucking glasses back?"
"As soon as you answer one teeny, tiny question of mine."
She rolled her eyes, expelling a frustrated sigh, "Shoot or I'll start to."
"What's your name."
Her eyes scanned him much like they did that day five years ago. Her hazel iris's constricted in an odd spiral dance becoming a fig green from the dark brown they had been before, and she smiled.
"Oh.....hey there, sexy."
The door opened again as a staff member came in, a platter filled with chocolate crossiants.
"Hold on there one moment, cutie-patootie." She said raising a finger and skipping, he couldn't fucking believe it, she SKIPPED over to the man with the sweets.
"You....Billy!" She exclaimed reading his id, "You my fine man, are my saint! My personal savior!" She bubbled planting a kiss on the corner of his mouth, and snagged two of the pastries then bounded away happily munching on one of the delicate treats.
The boy with the plate was still looking at her. Sands unconsciously bit the end of her glasses as he chuckled at the little prick's attentiveness. Bradley seemed to notice too for he stalked toward the young man, "Where's my coffee?"
"I uh......uh well, sir, you see....." The kid stuttered.
Bradley took him by the arm forcing him out the door, "Come on, boy. You'll need to learn how to make a fucking cup of coffee instead of eyeing out agents." He pushed the boy out, following he called back to them, "After you finish up meet me in the Inspection Room."
The woman gave him the thumbs up as she continued savoring her chocolate consumption. She finished, sucking the rest from her fingertips, and Sands found himself thinking thoughts around the same lines he had the first time he'd met her.
"Next time don't drool on my glasses." She told him, snatching them from his mouth as she began to walk out.
He pulled her back by the vest, pulling her against him.
"Tell me your name." He ordered softly into her ear.
She laughed turning around to look at him she whispered in his ear just as soft, "Bite me, babe."
"Your age then?"
"Twenty-two."
"Congrats sugar-butt, you're legal."
"I was that day too." She reminded him playing with the collar of his jacket.
"I know, and I'm fucking disappointed that I had to deny you your birthday present. Don't fucking remind me now, because there's a good chance I'll ask for a hell of a rain check on that."
She tsked him, wagging a finger, "Denial is they enemy, hot ass. Don't do it again." She smiled and walked around him to the door.
Fucking Jesus Christ.
"Tell me who you are." He commanded again.
"Eat me."
"Ok." He was at her in an instant, pinning her firmly between him and the door. He leaned down and found the rest of her fucking crossiant shoved in his mouth.
"How about you eat a crossiant instead, honey. I still want to see more fat on your damn bones." It was still there, the look of an innocent, of a child, but the she had the gaze of a smoldering sexuality that told him differently.
He took a bite struggling to articulate his words around the mouthful, "Is this some sort of shit sign, telling me something? Cause honest to god, I have no fucking clue what it means."
"Business first, pleasure later." She pinched him nose with another smile and walked out.
Sands bit his lip in practiced concentration and control not to pull her back in by her hair, lock the door, and screw her into the wall.
She did not just fucking pinch his nose.
Sands: What the fuck have you been smoking?
Me: You're my bitch. Say another word and I....won't make out with you!
Sands: Cool, chica. Can I fucking leave now?
Me: Shut up.....and no.
Enjoy!
~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~
The phone beside his bed rang. Sands rolled over on his side, opening his eyes slightly. No one beside him, rare occurrence that it was it was fine with him. He hadn't had one night of fucking peace for a while. The phone rang again. The string of curses that he let out would make sailors from Ireland proud enough to buy him his own pub.
2:15 a.m.
He groaned smothering more profanities, reaching under his pillow to rest his hand on his gun.
The phone continued ringing.
Sands aimed the gun, "Ring again." He dared it.
RRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNGGGG!!!!!!!
He blew the damned thing off the table. He fell back among the rumpled sheets and pillows. He closed his eyes.
Brrrrrriiiiiiiiinnnnnnnng!
A sound like a growl of a rabid dog rose in his throat. Furious, he grabbed the cell phone from under his mattress.
"Unless this is a brief-case full of a shit-load of money, or an extremely gorgeous woman looking for a good fuck, I'm tracking you down and blowing your fucking brains out."
"We need you in." The voice responded.
"Listen, whoever you are Messenger, I told you little shits not to call me this early in the fucking morning."
"Come in. You'll get your answers."
Dial tone.
Motherfuckers.
He groaned getting up and pulling on his clothes.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"So who pushed the fucking code-red button?" Were the first words out of his mouth.
"Like the shirt, Sands." Agent Bradley remarked after taking a sip from his cheap coffee cup.
Sands looked down reading the shirt he had carelessly tugged on, 'Man's Best Friend' with an arrow pointing to his crotch. He flipped him off. Fucking asshole.
Bradley indicated the chair at the other side of the board room table. Sands took the hint and sat, putting his feet on the table.
Bradley picked up a remote and pressing a button the lights dimmed.
"Since when did this become fucking MI6?" Sands asked.
"Since you became fucking Bond." Bradley shot back.
Sands flipped him off with both hands this time.
Another press of a button and a screen lowered, displaying the face of a beautiful 18 year old girl. Blonde, green eyed, now that was unusual.
"You got me up at two in the morning to oogle girlie pictures? And you guys think I'm the fucking lunatic?"
"This is the daughter of the Irish Ambassador."
"She's a fox."
"She's missing."
"Alright, so she's a hot fox that's gone fucking missing? What do you want me to do about it?"
"The IRA's gonna have a fucking field day with this. The people who took her, well guess what no shit, they're claiming are Americans and they're not too happy with the whole damn thing. Threatening to start fucking World War Three if we don't bring her back. They've given us a week."
"Damn decent of them." Sands picked at his teeth, "So you want me to shoot them in the ass, get the princess back, hand her over to her father...still a virgin, and stop him from sending off his missles and making America look like fucking Apocalypse Now?"
"That's about it."
"Alright then, now can I go back to sleep?"
Bradley actually smirked. Ah assfuck, this was going to be bad. "Not quite, Sands. There's still one more matter of business we need to discuss."
"Such as?"
"Your partner."
What the fuck?
"She might be of some assistance in getting the leader of whoever is doing this to come out of hiding. The guy we've got as a suspect....well let's just say they are old friends. Or they were."
The door to his left opened.
"You've got to be shitting me." He muttered.
A woman approached. Honey brown hair right to below her shoulders, a filled out figure accented by the black leather pants, and tight blood red shirt, beneath black leather vest. Rose colored specs. Savage black kicks. She took one look at the empty table and drew her gun.
The shot rang as Sands drew his own pistol to find she had merely shot a hole through Bradley's mug. A steady stream of brown liquid pouring through it.
"I was told there would be chocolate crossiants here. It was the only reason why I got off my ass this morning to come down."
Bradley was gulping like a fish out of water, "You missed."
She cocked the gun with a flick of her wrist, "No, I gave you a warning. I never miss. Now get me my fucking crossiants before I 'miss you' again, comprende?"
Bradley touched the earpiece to his ear, "Can we get some chocolate crossiants in here and um.......another café latte? Yeah, thanks."
"Happy?" He asked her.
She replaced the gun and beamed, "Estatic. So what's the hubbub, bub?" She asked.
As Bradley restated the problem, Sands looked over his partner. He knew her from somewhere, and it was pissing him off that her couldn't seem to remember. The boots, felt familiar, or maybe he just liked them, but the crossiants? Fuck me, he chuckled realizing who she was. He caught a glimpse of writing on the shirt and strained to read it behind the protective hold of the vest.
"Ya want to see the whole message, dick?" She asked him and unzipped the vest the rest of the way. Sands stepped closet to see.
'Got Me? I'll do your body good'
Fast bitch, he smiled.
"Nosy little bastard, aren't ya?" She asked cocking her head
Sands reached out and removed her rose glasses, twirling them tauntingly in his fingers. Her eyes narrowed dangerously.
"You want to give me my fucking glasses back?"
"As soon as you answer one teeny, tiny question of mine."
She rolled her eyes, expelling a frustrated sigh, "Shoot or I'll start to."
"What's your name."
Her eyes scanned him much like they did that day five years ago. Her hazel iris's constricted in an odd spiral dance becoming a fig green from the dark brown they had been before, and she smiled.
"Oh.....hey there, sexy."
The door opened again as a staff member came in, a platter filled with chocolate crossiants.
"Hold on there one moment, cutie-patootie." She said raising a finger and skipping, he couldn't fucking believe it, she SKIPPED over to the man with the sweets.
"You....Billy!" She exclaimed reading his id, "You my fine man, are my saint! My personal savior!" She bubbled planting a kiss on the corner of his mouth, and snagged two of the pastries then bounded away happily munching on one of the delicate treats.
The boy with the plate was still looking at her. Sands unconsciously bit the end of her glasses as he chuckled at the little prick's attentiveness. Bradley seemed to notice too for he stalked toward the young man, "Where's my coffee?"
"I uh......uh well, sir, you see....." The kid stuttered.
Bradley took him by the arm forcing him out the door, "Come on, boy. You'll need to learn how to make a fucking cup of coffee instead of eyeing out agents." He pushed the boy out, following he called back to them, "After you finish up meet me in the Inspection Room."
The woman gave him the thumbs up as she continued savoring her chocolate consumption. She finished, sucking the rest from her fingertips, and Sands found himself thinking thoughts around the same lines he had the first time he'd met her.
"Next time don't drool on my glasses." She told him, snatching them from his mouth as she began to walk out.
He pulled her back by the vest, pulling her against him.
"Tell me your name." He ordered softly into her ear.
She laughed turning around to look at him she whispered in his ear just as soft, "Bite me, babe."
"Your age then?"
"Twenty-two."
"Congrats sugar-butt, you're legal."
"I was that day too." She reminded him playing with the collar of his jacket.
"I know, and I'm fucking disappointed that I had to deny you your birthday present. Don't fucking remind me now, because there's a good chance I'll ask for a hell of a rain check on that."
She tsked him, wagging a finger, "Denial is they enemy, hot ass. Don't do it again." She smiled and walked around him to the door.
Fucking Jesus Christ.
"Tell me who you are." He commanded again.
"Eat me."
"Ok." He was at her in an instant, pinning her firmly between him and the door. He leaned down and found the rest of her fucking crossiant shoved in his mouth.
"How about you eat a crossiant instead, honey. I still want to see more fat on your damn bones." It was still there, the look of an innocent, of a child, but the she had the gaze of a smoldering sexuality that told him differently.
He took a bite struggling to articulate his words around the mouthful, "Is this some sort of shit sign, telling me something? Cause honest to god, I have no fucking clue what it means."
"Business first, pleasure later." She pinched him nose with another smile and walked out.
Sands bit his lip in practiced concentration and control not to pull her back in by her hair, lock the door, and screw her into the wall.
She did not just fucking pinch his nose.