Work Text:
Tall, Dark and Handsome
by Jimbo
"For England, James."
He always said it. Just before guns blazed or bombs blasted around them, he met James Bond's gray eyes and reminded him why they killed and for whom they would inevitably die.
"Alec, one last time."
He always said it. Just before they locked their limbs together and found the ridges and recesses of one another's bodies where they could release the pent-up passions created by constant danger, he reminded Alec Trevelyan why they couldn't afford this all-too-human connection. They were numbers, after all, not men.
But Trevelyan stubbornly ignored his protests.
"James, forget being the tall, dark and handsome lady killer. You need this, so you'll come. I outrank you, remember. I'm 006."
And Trevelyan was right. Bond continued to come, and not just to lick his wounds and renew his courage.
"I love you, Alec."
He never said it. Just before he watched the traitorous Trevelyn die for the final time, falling to break on the hard surface far below, he reminded himself why it felt so damned good.
Not for England.
Not because he had a license to kill.
But because he was not really a number. He was a man.
A dark man.
end