AN: So all of you people are just freaking amazing! Every time I see someone's commented or someone's favorited the story I just can't express my joy enough! Thank you thank you thank you!

"I'm what?" asked Alastair as he tried to keep his face neutral.

"You're back up," replied Merlin with a small smirk. "Lancelot here is running point."

"May I, at the very least, ask why?"

"Don't get your skids in a twist. It's a simple enough mission and Lancelot was going to have to do this at one point or another," Merlin muttered with a role of his eyes.

Alastair just stared as if an alien had appeared in front of him. Everything had been perfect before James had arrived. Though people had tried to push him out of his comfort zone, most had just left him alone. Now even Merlin was getting some amusement out of this. It made Alastair's skin crawl in annoyance but he kept quiet and simply listened as the mission was described.

They were taking the place of two brothers at a gala where the host was a renowned art thief. Though not all, many of the pieces had originally rested in British museums and galleries, hence their involvement.

"We don't even look alike," argued Alastair.

"Well lucky for you one of them was adopted," Merlin easily supplied. "The gala is in Germany so I hope you both brush up on the language your way over."

"Are the brother's German?" asked Alastair.

"No, your nationality is still British. The host just can't understand English."

Sighing at the trivial, yet still annoying, matter Alastair looked over at James. He wanted to tell the other to calm down over the stupidity of it all. The task really would be simple, yet he had to remind himself that it was James' first time commanding a mission and where as his last one had been taking down a terrorist cell in the Middle East, this mission would utilize his biggest asset, socializing.

Alastair tried to think back to his first mission and, though he could recall all the details easily enough, he wasn't sure what he'd exactly felt at the time. Probably honored, he decided, and most certainly not the childlike glee that James was expelling.

"The necessary outfits are already in the jet. You'll fly yourselves over to the HQ in Berlin and then take the tram out to Colditz."

"At least tell me I'm flying," muttered Alastair. He'd rather not go head first into the side of a mountain.

"I'm not sure. You'll have to talk to your commander."

Alastair remained carefully neutral as he turned on his heels and headed out and towards the jet. When he got on, he realized either he'd been walking at a faster pace than believed or that James had stayed behind to talk to Merlin as he came running up.

"So do you want to fly?" asked James as he quickly took the steps two at a time.

"It's up to you isn't it?"

"Well yeah but I don't want to irritate you anymore than I have today."

"Believe me, I'm sure you will," Alastair deadpanned as he turned away and continued into the cockpit.

Following, James replied in a rather hurt tone, "I was just trying to be polite. It's obvious you're not going to enjoy yourself this mission so I thought I might as well let you pick things like this out."

"You're running point. You're supposed to know all your peoples' most unique and greatest abilities and use that to your advantage," Alastair responded stiffly.

"Well it's not like we're being shot at while somebody screams 'We're all going to die' in the background," muttered James. "Just tell me what you want to do."

Hesitating, Alastair caved slightly and admitted, "I would prefer to fly the plane."

"Then there you go! Now was that so hard?"

Only letting out a huff in response, Alastair turned away and began making all necessary preparations for takeoff. As they set off, he was surprised but rather pleased that for most of the flight James kept to himself. Perhaps it was simply because marching off angrily to an appropriate distance would entail a parachute but either way it pleased Alastair. Still, James asked several uncomfortable questions which caused many staring contests (Alastair glaring while James looked on innocently).

When they arrived at HQ, they changed and transferred all necessary weapons over. Alastair noted that whereas he carried an umbrella, James had taken to a simple pistol. Though he doubted either would need to be used, he was curious as to how James handled himself in combat.

On their way to the party, James asked, "So am I going to need to come up with some obscure disease as to why you don't smile?"

"I can smile if the situation calls for it," growled Alastair.

"Show me."

Alastair did so.

"Oh god, I think my eyes are bleeding."

"Shut it."

James grinned and quickly replied, "Hey, just joking. It was a good smile. Almost fooled me."

Alastair simply rolled his eyes and turned to look out the tram window. The house they would finally arrive at was obviously from old money. Extremely old yet still healthy looking, someone had clearly put their heart and soul into the place. The paintings were reportedly scattered throughout the house which would make it interesting.

Taking up the guise of the brothers, art dealers, they quickly made their rounds, politely talking to men and women, most with some occupation in art as well.

It would have been extremely mundane if it wasn't for all the grins James shot his way or the foolish thumbs ups he gave whenever someone responded positively to a comment he had made. His reactions certainly tested Alastair's ability to remain cool and collected as several images of him strangling James came to mind. Nevertheless, he ignored it all as best he could and, at a convenient moment, whispered in James' ear, "I'm headed to the basement. You go for the attic."

The momentary brake gave Alastair some breathing room though both soon joined each other on the main floor again. Just as they did so, the host came into view for the first time.

Talking briefly and both easily reverting to German, it became a little bit more interesting as the man clapped his hands together and suddenly the entire room began to empty.

"Time to go home!" the man said in his native language. "The party is over!"

Once it was only the two guards, the host, and themselves, James allowed himself a huge grin. "Not so boring now is it?" asked James in English, much to the enragement of the host.

As the man yelled at the two guards as to what James had said, Alastair replied, "Do shut up? Which would you prefer?"

"I thought I was running point."

"Then who do you think I should take on?" muttered Alastair irritably.

The guards tried to keep up but either their accents or the speed at which both talked confused them as they tried to explain to the host. The host yelled several phrases but Alastair mostly ignored them as James replied, "I'll take Goliath. You take Igor."

"Honestly with the names?"

"Would you prefer grunt and creepy guy? Or how about Vandemar and Croup? Or maybe even—"

"Just zip your mouth shut and hit one of them!" Alastair yelled crossly as he tackled the shorter, and truthfully uglier, man to the ground. It was possibly one of the rashest moves he'd made in his life. Nevertheless, the suddenness gave him an advantage as his longer limbs easily got around the guard's. After easily knocking him out, he took his gun and pointed it at the host. "One move and you're dead." He'd accidently said it in English but apparently his tone had gotten the point across as the man's eyes widened in fear.

Now that he had two of the targets secured he looked over to James. Brute force obviously wasn't going to work with the guy. Alastair wondered why James had wanted the bigger one when it would have made much more sense for Alastair to attack him. Closer to his height and width, they would have been evenly matched and the fight would have been done and over with as quickly as Alastair had taken down the other guard.

Seconds later he realized why such an assumption was wrong.

Of course it was mostly showing off but even Alastair had to admit he was slightly impressed (but only slightly!). Wrapping himself around the man's slower movements, James moved between his legs and behind him, twisted his arm until it broke, tripped him up, took his gun while in midair, and finally ended with the guard flat on his back as James' foot pressed into his chest.

Alastair couldn't help the words that came out of his mouth. "You're like a fucking pretzel."

Immediately collapsing into hysterics, James responded, "Oh my! I didn't think you could make a joke!"

"It's not a fucking joke! You looked like a damn pretzel! If anything it's a simile."

"Fine Mr. Numbers, say whatever makes you sleep better at night. Now let's finish up here," replied James with a smirk.

The collecting of the paintings took more time than the actual gala as they were under strict orders not to damage any of them. While they did so, they also put the fear of god into the host and finally left just as the necessary officials came to arrest him. Of course, those same officials could have arrested the man days earlier but the British government didn't exactly trust foreign officers handling their paintings with care.

Once back at the Berlin base, Arthur contacted both of them.

"A job well done I think. And very fancy footwork Lancelot," Arthur said as James grinned and Alastair muttered, "Don't encourage him." However, Arthur ignored the comment and went on to add, "Percival, we're going to need you to stay in Berlin for the next month or so. James, you're needed back in London. Make sure those paintings come home safely."

Ending the connection, Alastair allowed his shoulders to relax. Finally he'd get his peace and quite again.

"Happy to be rid of me that much? I'm hurt."

Anyone else and Alastair would have felt guilty but it was clear he hadn't hurt James in any way as his smile only got bigger.

"Very much so. You're possibly the most annoying person I've ever met but your abilities in the field far exceed what I was expecting of you."

"I'll take that as a compliment. Until our next meeting," James replied as he stuck out his hand.

The action slightly shocked Alastair but only because he'd half expected James to tackle him with a hug. As he took the hand and shook it, his suspicions quickly came to light as James added, "I would have hugged you but something informs me you're not a touchy feely person."

"Do tell what gave it away."

Chuckling James replied, "Who knows. Most people consider you quite charming."

With a rather exasperated roll of his eyes, Alastair responded, "Don't you have a plane to catch?"

"I'd much rather stay here and make witty conversation with yourself."

"So you'd not only be wasting Arthur's time but my own as well. How kind of you."

"Hey, it's only wasteful if you don't get anything out of it! I'll see you later Perci-cical!"

Suddenly getting very riled up, Alastair shouted, "I thought we agreed on my first name!"

"Whatever you say Perci-cial!" James called back.

Alastair glared a hole in the back of the other's head until his form was gone from sight and then once again let out another sigh of relief. He never thought he'd be grateful for such an assignment but at least for now everything would return to its rightful place, even if only for a month.