Chapter 21: In which Alex is sooo grounded.

When Alex woke up in a bed, he felt a jolt of panic before he realized he was in the hospital. He didn't feel much better about that either. There was still the phone and his bag to account for. A cursory look around told him that no one would be back for a while. Ian was out cold. From the man's reaction, Alex figured he would be lucky not to be grounded for a whole year once Jack and Ian got over the fact he was actually back and ok. He made a mental note not to throw a fit or react in any way. Taking whatever punishment he knew was coming was probably part of whatever freak event allowed him a normal, solitary two weeks. The nurse had been kind enough to leave his phone, which Alex quickly concealed after sending a text to Yassen telling the man he was fine, just momentarily hospitalized and unconscious off and on. His leg looked much better- it was almost healed over and had no signs of the infection. Alex had honestly forgotten about how normal ten-year-olds couldn't go off on their own. He still felt mostly sixteen and was used to a lot more freedom. Off to the luggage room it was - he'd been in enough hospitals to figure how to steal his shit back if the nurses refused to let him have it. Not in this timli- damn it. He had been doing well. At least Death had cut some of the hijinks, not to mention had yet to fry him for impudence. He prayed that Ian hadn't been told about the mysterious black spot on the bottom of his foot. Death had done him at least on favor. No way would they have missed his rather flashy choice for a back tattoo or the flower for that matter. Alex got back before anyone noticed he was gone, including Ian. The man seemed to be out cold, not like he didn't need the rest. The bag, he carefully searched to check that everything was there before he put the cellphone in it. Nobody found the knives or gun or so it seemed. They had even left the clothes as they were. He was ditching and thoroughly checking everything at home, anyway. SCORPIA had taught him all about the tricky little tracking devices MI6 liked to put on anyone remotely interesting.

Tulip Jones had been alarmed at the turn of events that had led to Ian and Alex being in the same city. For fuck's sake. She had even asked him if he knew anything, but no he just had to take after Ian and go off on his own. With a note. That was spectacularly useless. Somehow he had done on his own what took two organizations with far more resources had taken the same amount of time to do. She growled at the reports. How had Alex even tracked them down? He had spent two weeks with almost no human contact that they were aware of. It shouldn't even be possible. Needless to say, she was going to kill both of them personally if it ever happened again. She walked up the stairs to visit them in the hospital, after all someone had to. She wondered who the mysterious sharpshooting assassin was. With the way her week was going, she was inclined to blame the Russians. They firmly denied responsibility and were claiming it was them. Sarov had demanded (and been given) the body for a funeral. The paperwork was done and they were firmly out of the country. She wasn't sure why Alex couldn't use his phone to call his uncle (they found him with one). It looked like an ordinary phone and it wasn't stolen as far as anyone could tell, so they had refrained from confiscating or searching it. That and Ian categorically refused to have anyone besides himself near his nephew's possessions. You would think the two of them would communicate better, considering the protectiveness, but you never really knew. She had been on the verge of making Ian take leave, again. Honestly, the man normally took care of himself, but the minute Alex vanished, threatened to vanish, or so much as walked into the wrong neighborhood he went completely psycho.

Ian Rider woke mid-afternoon to the first good amount of sleep he had since Alex went missing. Alex was sitting in his hospital bed reading a textbook. Ian was ashamed to say that he had panicked before spotting him. He knew he was staring, but he couldn't help himself. The MI6 agent kept checking to make sure Alex was there. It had been a long two weeks. This was far too close to comfort to his worst nightmare. God, he was so glad Alex was ok. He had nearly died and killed a man to protect him. It was enough to make him want to scream and cry again. If Alex thought he was leaving Ian's sight for the next couple of weeks, he was sorely mistaken. Ian couldn't really think of a punishment, really. Alex didn't have much for actual hobbies and the ones he did have were dead useful. Actually, he was more curious about why Alex had gone off for two weeks by himself. Staring. Staring. He knew he was looking between Alex and everything else. Alex snapped the book shut. "Am I bleeding again?" Ian felt a jolt and a faint wave of nausea at the idea. "Don't even joke, Alex. It's not funny." Alex looked at him for a moment. "Sorry." Alex didn't know which thing he was apologizing for. Being himself. Walking off. Almost dying. Shooting the terrorist. Ian felt a stab of irrational panic. He was terrified of doing or saying the wrong thing. "I would ground you until the age of thirty, if I thought it would teach you a lesson." Alex shrugged. This wasn't unexpected. "Ok." Ian raised an eyebrow. "It's going to be until your birthday instead. You don't get to leave the house without Jack or I in tow. I'll be checking all of your school work and you get extra politics assignments from me, since you clearly don't have enough to do. I'll also be restarting your geopolitics and language lessons." Ian waited for the protest. "Ok." Ian was irritable. "I'm taking your bed." They both knew it wasn't happening. "Ok." Ian was puzzled. "I'm arranging a marriage to your first cousin." Alex bit back a snort. "Ok." Ian was trying to get a rise out of him. "Is that all you can say?" Alex tried hard to keep his tone even. "No, Ian."

Jack Starbright was relieved when she heard Alex was found. The relief was immediately shattered when she heard he was in the hospital. Germany. How had even gotten that far? She had thought they would find him within a day, maybe two. Jack had to wonder. What had they done? What had Ian done? Alex was already so quiet and serious. She shuddered at the thought of him living on the streets. There was a glimmer of hope, since he had only been gone two weeks and had been with Fenrir. The wolf was inconsolable and moped around the house, awaiting Alex's return. Jack reluctantly fed it the red meat Alex had gotten for him. She kept the place clean and hoped against all hopes that Ian didn't do something rash. She had the time to think about it and she figured that hovering around Alex and maybe actually checking on him would do better than any kind of grounding. Oh, wait. Ian was gone for months on end and usually without notice. Where did Alex get the idea that it was ok to disappear, again? Perhaps she was being unfair, but she was worried. Jack resolved herself to do her best to keep Alex off the streets. It was not a place for anyone, least of children. Maybe he would have come back and maybe he wouldn't have. Jack wasn't so sure he had only meant to go for two weeks. All she could do was watch and wait and hope that one day Alex would tell her everything. She sighed as she finished vacuuming. At least she could rest easier, now that Ian was with Alex. The man would rather die than let anything happen to Alex.

Ian had been hovering for three days and Alex's patience was sorely tested. He had to text Yassen in the bathroom because that was about the only time he was alone. Ian and the wolf had taken to sleeping in his room. No matter what he said Ian didn't seem to believe that he wasn't going to run off the minute Alex got a bit of privacy. At least neither of them had been too mad. They just wanted to talk about it. Alex thought it was maddening. He didn't want to talk about anything with anyone at the moment. They were actually being supportive. Alex set his alarm extra early and decided the extra hour of running in complete silence would be good for him. He was so used to being alone that having people made him nervous. Ian seemed to be considering something for a while. Alex decided he was going back to his essay on why the Greek economic situation was the way it was. It was duller than shit, but it could come in handy if he ever had a reason for income tax evasion or how to start a riot/strike. Alex moved to go to the bathroom for his shower, his phone concealed in the pile. He actually only took fifteen minutes to prepare for bed, but the rest of the hour was his and Yassen's. It was kind of thrilling to text the man right under Ian's nose. Of course, the assassin was not at all sympathetic to his current plight, but Alex figured he only had himself to blame. Alex had made the executive decision not to tell Yassen exactly how he had ended up in the hospital. The man was overprotective enough as it was. He pulled on his clothes in the bathroom. Fenrir had taken to guarding his door in whatever room he was in at the moment. Tom's parents were still arguing and showed no signs of stopping any time soon.

The run started off like all of his other runs. Until he felt something on the edge of his periphery. Alex stopped to let Fenrir off the leash and quickly took a look around. It could have been a coincidence, but with the vibe he'd gotten off Tara and Frank the odds of this being one were...very, very low. They were on the edge of his field of vision, much better than the MI6 agents had been. They could have easily been any other pair out in the park together. The two walked toward him. When they were in view, Alex quickly shot his gaze to Ian and looked hesitantly at them. The faintest flash of comprehension appeared on their faces before their expressions went back to perfectly blank. They walked briskly by Alex without batting another eyelid. Ian narrowed his eyes. Alex knew he was getting the third degree when they got back home. Oh, well. He could tell Ian the truth- mostly. It wasn't like people never asked for directions around London and he could take care of himself. Once everyone else in the park was out of earshot, Ian started. "Just who are they, Alex?" Alex wanted to groan. "A nice couple I gave directions, Ian." Yeah, and he was a banker. "Nice try. I believed that for half a millisecond after it came out of your mouth." Damn, that was a little harsh. "Well, Ian it's about the same amount of time you respect my privacy for when I have a secret, however innocuous." Alex knew he was being a little harsh, but this was getting ridiculous. Ian sighed. "Are they dangerous?" Alex smirked. "Walking down the street is dangerous." Ian mentally suppressed his growl. He did so love non-answers like that. "Alex…" Alex rolled his eyes. "I don't think so." Ian made a mental note to do a full background check just to be sure.

They were back at the house and Ian knew he was obsessing, but he started up his computer. The check took all of two minutes. Not dangerous, his ass. They were suspected of murder and links to organized crime in at least twenty countries. Arson to, apparently. Yeah, Alex was officially not allowed out of the house by himself until those two left. Sadly, there was not enough evidence to justify Ian arresting them on the spot. Jones was also still pissed about their target getting shot, enough that disappearing them would actually would lead into an investigation of why he did it. Not that he left evidence, of course. Why on Earth was Alex associating with them, anyway? Oh, well. He figured it was time to take Alex out for dinner, since they had both missed Christmas. They could celebrate it late together. At least it wasn't totally his fault like it normally was. When he missed holidays he always felt a stab of guilt at the casual acceptance and quiet hurt that came off his nephew. He hovered at the edge of the living room, attempting to reduce the instinctive increase in his heart rate whenever he saw his nephew snuggling his mutant. It went against his every instinct to allow a deadly predator, however tame Alex claimed it was, near said relative. The wolf flashed him a look Ian could swear was smug when Alex buried his face in the fur. Fenrir was emitting a soft, husky noise he supposed was equivalent to purring and lightly sweeping his tail across the edge of the couch. Jack was also shooting the three uncertain looks. She walked in lingered a moment and smiled softly at the sight of Alex and Fenrir before walking out again. Ian felt a flash of jealousy that a stupid wolf had what he couldn't. He knew he wasn't the most snuggly person the planet, but watching the stupid fur ball and what was almost his son snuggle together made him wish for more. He sighed and left them to it, trying not to be bitter about the whole thing. It was kinda his fault anyway, but… Ian got lonely sometimes.

Alex had never really gotten the appeal of having a massive fur ball that you had to feed and take on walks, but now he totally saw the appeal of pets. They didn't talk about annoying stuff. They didn't annoy you with extra homework. When they stalked you, you could actually avoid them and you got a nice, furry, warm mass to snuggle up against. The antibiotics they had him on seemed to have the side effect of sapping a good deal of his energy. Alex was actually tired right now. Snuggling Fenrir was a wonderful experience he'd have to repeat. It was like have a warm pillow and blanket at the same time. Jokes about him being a walking shag rug aside, the fur was softer than the coarse hair he'd imagined, especially in the winter. Alex decided dropping off to sleep would not be a bad thing and delicately laid his head against Fenrir. He dropped out of consciousness like a rock in a lake.

He took in the all-too-familiar depths of the void without a hint of alarm. It was almost restful here, with no people and no colors and no time-travel. Where was Death? Why was he here? Alex supposed it didn't really matter. He decided to sit and wait, adjusting once again to his surroundings and sixteen-year-old body. "Discovering the virtue of patience, are we?" Alex grinned. "Yep. Is it like this for everyone, when they die?" Death sighed. "You know the whole peace in death thing is a common trope for a reason, right? Even my indirect, dream-fueled propaganda isn't that good. Besides, I suspect more people would ask for a refund if it wasn't peaceful here." Alex blinked. "You can ask for a refund?!" Death snorted. "You can ask. I can also stick people into random weird afterlife shit, so it isn't shall we say...advisable. You wouldn't believe the whining I put up with or the paperwork...dear lord the paperwork. I digress, slim. How do you like your new pet?" Alex raised an eyebrow. "That wasn't you was it?" Death gave him a look. "It is never directly me, but I won't say I had nothing to with it." Alex sighed. "I like him. You aren't planning on taking him are you?" Death groaned. "No. He will live as long as you do, silly. The whole point was for you to have him. I'm not sadistic enough to give you a pet and take it away for the sheer anguish it causes you. That would be Destiny. Sadistic bastard and all. Besides, the whole plan goes smoother the more we get along." Alex resisted the temptation to raise an eyebrow. "The whole plan? Since when are you involved?" Death smirked. "That is for me to know and you puny mortals to wonder over for the rest of your natural life." Alex couldn't help asking his next question. "So if I die do I-" Death yelped. "No! Absolutely, no dying to satisfy your curiosity! My paperwork is backlogged to the next century as it is." Alex withheld his grin. Grim was so much fun to irritate. "What did you just think about calling me?!" Alex smirked. "Grim. As in, Grim Reaper. You didn't think I'd call you plain old Death forever did you?" Alex dodged the black fireball on instinct. "See ya, Grim!"

Alex woke up with the familiar jolt to Ian and Jack both standing over him. "What?" They both exchanged an all too familiar adult mind meld look. It usually ended up with a trip to the doctor or another family talk. "We called you for dinner?" Alex felt slightly defensive. "I was sleeping." "You normally wake up if a car as much as parks in the driveway." Alex shrugs. "It's probably the antibiotics. Isn't fatigue one of the side-effects?" They both seemed to accept that answer for now. Fenrir had woken up with him and was now blinking sleepily as Alex reluctantly shifted him off. Ian felt a stab of pity. He knew he was going to regret this later. "I can walk the dog if you're too tired." Alex rolled his eyes. Ian must really be worried. "I'm fine now. Does the air smell like smoke to you or is it me?" Jack jumped out of her reverie. "Damn it." She ran to the kitchen in an attempt to salvage dinner. Alex recognized a lost cause and started opening windows. Fire alarms were annoying. Thankfully it didn't go off. If they had, Alex would have been tempted to break into Ian's liquor supply. Jack looked apologetic. "Take out?" Alex resisted the urge to chuckle. "Fine by me. Ian?" Ian shrugged. After you ate what was offered in hellholes that terrorists liked to keep spies in, you didn't much care. "As long as there is some sort of nutritional content, sure." Alex and Jack just exchanged the here we go again look. They were both familiar with the nutritional standards Ian liked to keep. They ended up with Indian food. All in all, it was good. Alex thawed the raw meat in the microwave for Fenrir. As he watched the turntable go, he felt Ian approach behind him.

"Yes?" Ian was closely examining him. Alex figured he would get to it when he wanted and turned to watch the meat thaw again. "The investigation at your school. It got stalled. Nobody knows where the code came from. The drives were also destroyed between evidence and lock up." Alex turned. "Good to know." Thank you. "I thought you would like to hear about it." Always. They went for a walk. The quiet seemed less stifling this time, more natural. The air was freezing cold and the frozen ground crunched beneath the other pedestrians' feet. It was New Years' week. Alex was actually looking forward to the fireworks. Fireworks. That was it. Now, he needed to plan. The TV had been giving out the same tired notices about where it was illegal to launch fireworks, the hours, and safe storage and handling. There were always a few dozen cases of people injuring themselves no matter how many announcements were made. At least he didn't have to go to some nutty billionaire's house this time...so far, anyway. Alex caught his reflection in the shop window. He looked sad and tired. Fenrir stilled at the same time he did. Alex felt the hairs on his arms stand on end despite the coat. Ian's eyes flicked to the window in front of them. "What is it?" The softness of Ian's voice belied the deadly undertone. "We're about to be boxed in." Ian's eyes seemed to burn. "Muggers, then." Alex cursed the fact that he hadn't seen it sooner. Ian stilled along with him and Fenrir. The men both prepared to draw their knives. Alex's eyes flicked between his companions and the window. "A three man team, then." Then, the three were on them. It was over in less than three seconds. Ian went for a downward debilitating stab in the man's torso. Alex flicked his into a spot he knew was painful enough to disable this lot and hit him in the chest and throat in an open-palmed strike for good measure. He and Ian turned, ready to face the third man. They needn't have bothered. Fenrir had gone straight for the man's throat. The blood of the three gushed into the snow, eventually slowing to a steady ebb in less than a minute. Fenrir looked about ready to strike the other two, now that they were down, but not dead. Alex laid a hand on the wolf's shoulder. "Easy, boy." The three of them stood there for a while watching the three bleed for a bit. Alex broke the silence. "Should we call the police or what?" Ian considered it for a second. "Naw, I think we should let them cool off for a while. Let's head back." Alex snorted at the pun. They both had a silent agreement not to mention this kind of thing to Jack. Alex decided to go for an early night. "Goodnight, Ian." His uncle gave him a fond look. "Goodnight, Alex."

For the first time in almost a week, Ian felt comfortable leaving Alex to sleep alone in his room. Christ knows he had to call this in. Jones would have kittens either way. Now, how to omit the fact he had companions. He supposed his protection now extended to the mutt, since it kept Alex happy. He could barely contain his pride at Alex's abilities. Now, time to get the bullshit over with. "Jones." His boss picked up at most times when he called. "It's Ian. There's been a bit of an incident." Ian bit back a groan and described the incident - minus a few details. "Yes, Jones. I'm serious. It was an actual mugging. They do happen, you know. They might be a bit um...damaged." Ian could swear his boss's sigh lasted for a solid minute. "Was it before or after they threatened your nephew?" Ian didn't know how she had guessed. "Please don't insult my intelligence, Agent Rider. The bite to the throat is a giveaway, since you haven't taken up cannibalism." Jones was wondering how the man found trouble on a walk to the park. "You got there already?" Jones wondered sometimes. "We keep an eye on the CCTV cameras we have up, Ian." Ian sighed. "Just have Crawley take care of it, please." Jones rolled her eyes. Crawley was already on it. The man insisted on being Ian's clean-up. "Goodnight, Ian." Ian grinned knowing Crawley was on it. "Nighty, Night, Tulip." Ian sighed. At least there hadn't been any cameras directly in the area so he could claim Alex's maiming as his own. With any luck, those two would choke on their blood in surgery and die. He wondered if he could convince Crawley to have an unfortunate accident and lengthen their stay in the hospital. When it came to Alex, he was about as petty and vindictive as a person could get. Accidental amputations were a thing in hospitals, right? He decided against it because Crawley would give him the lecture on abuse of his position, again (after he did what Ian wanted, mind you). There were perks to having colleagues with...a certain lack of moral fiber.

Tulip Jones occasionally wondered if Ian Rider and John Crawley were in some sort of relationship beyond friends. Not that she would mind if they were, but she'd considered investigating the possibility more than once. This was one of those times. The two of them liked to heap more work on each other and constantly egged each other on. And then there were the pranks and social maneuvering. The two worked exceptionally well together. Ian being likened to the hurricane and Crawley being the clean-up. They seemed to have a symbiotic relationship in which they fed off the work they made for each other. It had playful undertones- perhaps she had just stayed up one too many nights. Neither of them had any serious relationships ever and they were about the same age. Married to their work, they said. She strongly suspected they covered each other more than once. Ian would occasionally freelance something Crawley brought up in a meeting, but that she and Blunt didn't think took priority. Crawley, well just look at what he was going to be doing until about three o'clock in the morning. Due diligence, they said. She was probably just being paranoid. Evidence gone from lock-up. Murders covered up and facilitated. Rushed paperwork for equipment. The way they demanded the other as backup. How quickly those two had been punished for daring to try to go after Ian. The way Ian had actually not killed them (she didn't believe for a minute that it wasn't him). For the greater good, they said. Tulip Jones unwrapped another peppermint and decided to call it a night.

John Crawley occasionally questioned his own sanity. This was one of those nights. Ian (why couldn't he stay out of trouble for once?) had done it again. The cleanup would take until three, if he was lucky. As he filed the (pre-filled out) paperwork (he expected incidents with Ian and pre-filled forms were convenient), he wondered if Ian would stab him if he asked to move in. Probably. It would save him so many car trips, though (interviews were required for incidents). They could even carpool. Ian was special. Actually, Crawley had caught office betting pools on how long it would take him to get into trouble (don't ask). There wasn't even a way to stop the rumor pool from growing (he tried everything). He withheld a sigh (was it relief or resignation?) when the two (surviving) chumps didn't even need persuading to keep quiet. They refused to talk to police on principle. Crawley had almost broken out his celebratory scotch. Unfortunately, he still had work tomorrow and hungover was not a good look. Then again, if he moved in he would have to deal with Scooby. He wasn't sure if he wanted to ask how Ian managed to sleep with that thing roaming around the house. If it was him, it would be booze and sleeping pills. Then again, Ian routinely got the dubious honor of sleeping near suspicious bazillionaire creeps and their even more suspicious compounds, so maybe he was used to it (don't even get him started on the insane 'pets' they kept). Crawley was fairly sure that was it. As he filed the last form in its correct place, he wondered if Jones would pretend to buy a sick day for tomorrow (or was it today?). He started another set of forms for the next incident. Ian never could stay out of trouble, after all. While he preached the importance of not needing them to others, he always kept the next set filled partially out. There was always another incident. He was sure that even if he died his successor would eventually need a set and be grateful for the pre-filled ones he stuck in his filing cabinet. Crawley always kept five on hand (don't ask why).

When Ian went into the bank the next day, he was mildly puzzled and concerned. Crawley usually met him in his office within five minutes of him getting in (did he live in the building?) after these sorts of things. He decided to walk down to the man's office, figuring he should check before going looking for the man elsewhere. If Crawley wasn't alright… Ian walked soundlessly into the office. Opening the door, he was surprised and mildly amused to find his co-worker fast asleep in what Ian had personally deemed the most uncomfortable chair in the building. Ian didn't really have the heart to wake him up after the man had personally filed a ton of paperwork on his behalf last night. He maybe a hardened Special Ops agent, but even he cut people slack. Crawley had also happened to take a room that used to be the coroner's. Ian pulled out the table that would have once held a body and was unsurprised to find bedding in part of the man's filing cabinet. He gently picked the man up (really, the hours were ridiculous sometimes) and placed him on the 'bed'. Crawley had stirred, but not fully woken. Ian decided that if the man was tired enough that he wasn't awake for a possible kidnapping, Crawley should sleep some more. Ian accosted the man's desk to do his own work (they had the same clearance). Unfortunately, the chair was killing his back. He wondered if he could con medical into writing an excuse for Crawley to get a new chair. It would probably be easier to just get the man a late Christmas present. Eventually Ian just got tired of putting up with the damn thing and moved into the cot next to his coworker, using the chair as his table. Crawley eventually began stirring and Ian just ignored it and went on doing both their work.

Ian felt rather than saw Crawley bolt upright. "Ian!" The man turned a bright red before apologizing profusely. Ian shrugged. "Your chair sucks, you know that right?" Crawley was getting up. "Is that all? You let me sleep until eleven." Ian shrugged again. "You were up until three. Problem?" Crawley was shocked. "You were in bed next to me and anyone could have walked in?" Ian snorted. "I locked the door, give me some credit." Crawley was failing to see what was so amusing about this. "I'm behind on my paperwork." Ian withheld a laugh. "No, you aren't. I've doing your work for the past couple hours." Really, Crawley should lighten up a bit. "Someone could have seen you." Ian rolled his eyes. "Nobody was here. Besides, who cares?" Crawley scowled. "Only all of our gossip-mongering and extremely observant co-workers." Ian smirked. "Keeps me from getting sexually harassed, doesn't it?" Crawley lightly whacked him on the shoulder. "Have mercy. Do you have any idea how much paperwork a sexual harassment investigation and suit is? Please, Ian, just off them. I'll get a carpal tunnel at this rate." The two promptly started laughing. Ian returned to his pile and handed Crawley his. "We still have an hour until lunch break." Crawley grumbled. "Feels like cheating, having you do some of it." Ian resisted the temptation to roll his eyes. "Just turn it in and think of it as a thank you." Crawley peeked over his shoulder. "Ian that report was due at least two months ago!" Ian fought back the flush. "I got sidetracked." Crawley gave a long-suffering sigh. "I'm going to pretend I didn't see that." Ian felt a smirk beginning to form. "You know…" Crawley cut off the incoming snark. "If you even think about finishing that you get to log your own reports from now on." Ian decided to focus on his paperwork. "That's what I thought."

"You're right." Ian raised an eyebrow. "I usually am, what about?" Crawley rolled his eyes. "This chair is a piece of crap. Budge over." Ian scooted over and shifted the paper stacks around. "Lunch time!" Crawley resisted the urge to sigh. Ian sometimes acted about fifteen. He decided to follow in case there was an assassination attempt in the hallway. If he was there, the report wouldn't be three months late. Really, why did he bother even trying to make Ian do any of the paperwork? The minute they both exited the office, Crawley could feel the gossip starting. He felt a few of his colleague's more incisive stares follow them. Honestly, you would think they had better things to do. Ian really had no idea sometimes. Of course, Ian wasn't the one who got stopped in the hallways to socialize with people, so he wouldn't really care what they thought anyhow. They sat down together. Ian got his usual (Crawley mentally nicknamed the combination 'The Health Nut', but knew better than to comment). He got whatever garbage they recommended. It didn't really matter to him. Jones made a beeline in their direction. "What are you two up to now?" Ian put on his most sulky face. "Crawley is making me do paperwork." Jones smirked. "Far be it from me to stop him. In fact, I think a bonus is in order. How long ago was that report from Bangladesh due again?" Ian felt no remorse. "What report?" Was the reply in his most innocent tone. Jones and Crawley exchange a look that tells him he's doomed. Jones rose to join her boss. "Keep at it, Crawley. Agent Rider might be able to turn in a non-charred report on time someday before he retires." Ian snorted. Really, those two were so organised. He preferred more ordered chaos. The reports took second priority to investigations and anyway, he wasn't that bad. Crawley internally smiled at the victory he had just gotten. Then he remembered Ian left the paperwork in his office and they would have to go back and get it together. Ian was at least sticking around. The man was great conversation repellent, unless the bosses were involved. Crawley figured it was the man's morbid sense of humor and reputation. The two left together and spent the rest of the afternoon filling out paperwork, although Ian seemed to be doing his best to be a charming distraction. The man might have had better luck if he had picked someone that didn't know all his tricks.