Summary: This fic replaces part of the chapter in Snakehead when the SAS infiltrate Dragon Nine. Everyone's on their way back to base, and Alex, for fear of a concussion, is being monitored by Scooter.
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Scooter sighed when Alex groaned. "You know, I'm not enjoying this either."
"Oh, really? Isn't it fun to question mysterious me?"
"Not really. I can't ask anything that might damage British security- like how you got this job, why no one's taken you off it, nor what you've done. I'm almost certain it's classified."
Alex didn't know if any of it really was- he never actually read the Official Secrets Act. "It's classified."
There was an expected lull in the conversation.
"So..." Scooter trailed off.
Alex smirked. "Do you speak Spanish or German?" he asked in French.
Scooter blinked a few times. "I'm sorry?"
Alex's smirk was a bit more pronounced. "Perhaps you speak French or German?" Alex said in Spanish.
Scooter closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Alex, I only speak a little German. Could we please stick to languages I know?"
"Well, you just answered my question. German's quite fun, isn't it? I like it quite a lot."
Scooter glared at Alex for a moment, then sighed. "Yeah, I guess. English is much lot easier for me, though."
"You mean to say, 'English is much easier for me.'"
Scooter glared at Alex for a minute and was about to speak when the medic interrupted. "Does anyone have blood type A negative? I'm losing Sparks!"
Alex glanced around to see if anyone else volunteered. The room was silent, so he stood up. "I'm O negative."
The medic beckoned him over and rolled up his sleeve hurriedly. "Thanks, kiddo." He drew the blood after disinfecting a small patch of skin; Alex winced and looked away from his own blood, preferring to squeeze his eyelids shut.
The medic apologetically looked at him after he transferred the blood. "Sorry, but you probably just saved a life."
Scooter interrupted. "HQ just called; there's no tsunami. Everyone's safe."
Alex smiled minutely, if tiredly. "Now can I rest?" Scooter started to reply negatively, but the medic interrupted.
"Oh, for crying out loud, Scooter. If he can give you sass in other languages, donate blood, and still be perfectly fine after about a half hour after getting knocked around, we can be almost certain he's not going into a coma."
Alex grinned, then sat down by the wall and got some well-deserved rest.
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THE END
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AN: Don't bother reviewing- I don't like this fic very much anyway.