New Fic: Spies Do It Better 1 of 25
Title: Spies Do It Better
Author: rufferto and kitty_trio
Fandom: Bourne Supremacy/FPS
Characters: Jason Bourne/Kirill
Prompt: #16 Puppy/Kitten
Word Count: 1807
Rating: PG-13 for adult situations (eventually NC-17, Slash)
Disclaimer: It’s Fiction! Never happened. All lies from troubled minds. We do not own Jason, Kirill or any characters from the Bourne universe. Other characters are figments of vivid imaginations, any similarity to persons real or fictitious is merely incidental. No money made from this fantasy.
Author's Notes: Two young guns in spy school will not only learn to become lovers and assassins, but 'do it' against a backdrop of fluffy snags along the way.
This came from Karl’s comments about a running joke on the set that Kirill shot Jason’s girlfriend in Goa because the two had a ‘thing’ whilst in spy school together. Written for the 25fluffyfics Challenge.
Click button for our Fluffy Table:
Banner manip as always, made lovingly by rufferto, (ignore silly fluffy icons by Kitty)
Prompt 16: Puppy/Kitten
Jason tosses a pillow at Kirill, it's two AM and the Russian won't stop flipping about in bed. "Will you be quiet!" he hisses.
A hand snakes out and clamps over the talkative American's mouth, "Sleeping, not talking."
Jason aims a kick at the Russian, "Get off me!" He grunts as he shifts to the side. "What the hell's wrong with you tonight?"
Kirill growls low in his throat, flipping over to face his aggravating companion. "You take, keep it warm." He thrusts a small kitten that had been making a pincushion of his chest into Jason's arms.
Jason's face is a comical mixture of incredulity and annoyance. It's just then that he sniffles, cursing his one weakness, allergies. "Christ. How did you manage to get that... thing... in here without anyone seeing?" It was cold and wet, and it is raining outside. Jason finally realizes that Kirill was drenched. "And you're shaking too." Fortunately, animals like Jason, even though he doesn't like them much. He picks the scruffy looking kitten up and it immediately clings to him, mewing. "Kirill, how long were you outside?" He whispers fiercely.
Kirill absently pulls up his wet shirt examining the damage done by the small bundle of claws and fur. “Guard dogs, chasing” he shrugs, unconcerned about his wet condition. His eyes glitter in the room’s low light. “Too small to survive alone. Needs someone to talk to it. You.”
"What about you?" Jason reaches over for his towel and wraps the kitten in it, humming to it softly. "That's it kiddo, relax." He barely avoids getting a scratch. "You need to change. Christ, you're hurt. Your leg is bleeding. That looks like a bite!" The shorter, stockier man realizes he never had been asleep anyway so what's the point of trying. He is glad that it's dark in the room. It means he does not have to see everything. Kirill's wet nipples beneath that shirt were distracting enough. Stop that, Jason Bourne. He chides himself, you're not in Chicago. "It's hungry." He finally realizes. "It looks like its hungry, may some milk. Hey, have milk in the fridge. Get it, will ya?"
One corner of Kirill’s mouth lifts in amusement as Bourne falls under the spell of the small creature. The American was too distracting the way he was always trying to include Kirill in conversation. The young man even penetrated his sleep. The intense eyes, mop of sandy hair, the quirky way he found amusement in the oddest things. Hopefully the kitten will shift Bourne’s attention away from Kirill so he can work on countering the unwanted attraction to the younger man.
Silently and gracefully Kirill rises from the bed, stripping off shirt and torn trousers on the way to the small fridge. The interior light accentuates the lean muscles of his tall frame as he digs within for the milk carton. A thin trickle of blood trailing down his shin is ignored when the quiet youth looks for a shallow bowl. He thrusts the carton and bowl at the other before heading to the small stall shower. Unmindful of his nudity, boxers are peeled off in the bathroom doorway. As usual the door and part of the plastic curtain is left open, Kirill’s only dislike: small enclosures.
Jason accepts the bowl with a wordless smile (for once), this because he can't help but stare at Kirill's ass, the boxers clinging wetly, leaving nothing to the imagination. The kitten wiggles out of his arms and makes a dash for the bowl. He laughs as it eagerly starts to lap at the mixture. This makes Jason's stomach rumble and he rises to go to the fridge to grab the other half of the sandwich he'd put in there earlier. Their tiny dorm-like apartment was nearly impossible to maneuver in without seeing each other. He makes the mistake of glancing at the bathroom. The sight freezes him in his tracks. This was bad, this was very bad. Jason mentally shakes himself. "Good thing I guess," He says, clearing his throat and looking away from the shower as he chews. "Poor thing was starving."
Kirill grunts in reply, as he rubs soap into the small punctures on his leg. Not too deep but still bleeding, the sting from the soap pulls his attention from watching Bourne slide his lips around another bite. He turns the hot water tap higher, reveling in the endless supply of steaming water at this late hour. By the time he exits the bathroom with only a towel slung low on lean hips, the kitten is curled into a tight ball on his pillow. He directs a pointed look at his roommate, who grins in return.
Jason curses under his breath as he sits on Kirill's bed and scratches the kitten's neck lightly, earning purrs. Idly he wonders if Kirill would purr like that. Six months of living with the man was driving him crazy, he needed a girl or something to relieve the frustration. He looks up at Kirill, smiling brightly. "Well, look at that, it likes you more than it likes me." He chuckles. "Guess you're sharing your bed tonight."
In the process of looking for a thicker t-shirt, Kirill’s eyes leap to Jason’s at the mention of sharing a bed. No, that was not how the statement was meant he chides himself. No one here knew of his life before, and as long as he kept his distance from Bourne, no one would. He slips the shirt over his head and tosses the towel into the bathroom. Staring at the sleeping kitten, he finally climbs into his bed, head resting on one arm and curling onto his side, pulling pillow and all to nestle in his body’s curve.
Jason watches, unable to take his eyes from the sight. They share a room, him one side and Kirill the other. Something unbidden made him reach over and touches Kiril’s shoulder, "What about your leg?" That was a mistake, once he'd touched him, he was unconsciously stroking. "It looks bad, you need something on that. I'll uh, go get the iodine."
Kirill flinches at the touch. Not from revulsion but the heat from Jason’s hand is sending flames down to pool in his gut. He closes his eyes and shivers, “No need, scars, badge of honor.” He says cryptically, hoping the pillow hides his body’s response to the other young man.
Jason shakes his head stubbornly and moves to the kitchen again to fetch the first aid kit. His fingers tingled from where they had touched the Russian. He thanked god that tomorrow they would be too busy for him to reflect on this. Sniper practice was in the morning. He was having a great deal of trouble with aim. It wasn’t fair that Kirill was so much better. He wetted a rag with warm water and came back in to sit on the edge of the bed and pull up the blanket to reveal the wound. "Just to be sure, you never know with these bites, don't want to get uh rabies or anything or infection." He drags his eyes away from Kirill's. If he was honest with himself, he just wanted to touch that suspiciously soft skin again.
Sighing to show his reluctance, Kirill rolls his eyes. The American is in his stubborn mood, and no one would get any sleep until Jason got his way. He grits his teeth at the soft touch of the rag, and unconsciously wriggles one long finger against the kitten’s silky-soft warm belly.
Jason wets his lips, dabbing a bit of iodine on the wounds against the flesh exposed to him. Flesh he'd seen every day for six months since he was first introduced to the man. A heavy silence hangs in the air as he tries to rein in his ragged breath. His fingers linger as he places a bandage over the wound and pats it gently. He looks at the man and kitten, more aroused than he's been in a long time. "Got a name for uh it?" Jason rests his hand on Kirill's leg, unable to pull away. It must be because of how late it is. Come to think of it, what was Kirill doing out so late anyway?
“No name, name means attachment.” Moving his leg from under Jason’s touch, Kirill stares hard at the young man, before closing his eyes in dismissal, “No attachments.” If Bourne did not go back to his own bed, Kirill would need to run another circuit or two of the compound. Though it did not show, his nerves were frayed from the discussion with their C.O. this afternoon. As the better marksman, Kirill was now assigned the task of one-on-one lessons with Bourne. That meant additional daily contact, intimate contact, as Kirill showed the American the proper positions of holding and aiming his weapons.
Jason's eyes falter as Kirill's penetrate his. "What did you intend to do with it? She seems to like cuddling with you. Are you warm enough with this blanket? You've been outside for a long time.” He fingers the edge of it. “Don't want you to catch a chill." He supposed he talked a lot because it made up for the Russian’s strange silence. Their conversations however, never amounted to much of anything. Kirill wouldn't let anyone in. "Your skin feels cold." Okay, now he was fishing for excuses to stay on the same bed. Time to get up, Jason. The shorter man finally rises and slips back to his own bed. As he moves he collects his pillow. "Try not to snore."
Snorting at the last comment, Kirill wrapped his free arm around the bundle of purring fluff. “Teach it to survive,” was all he said.
Jason thinks for a minute, going over the usual pet names in his head. "Hey, I know. We'll call her Percy, short for Miss Perseverance. After all, she did survive until you came along." He laughs at the idea and curses as he sniffles. The damn allergies were already starting to act up. "Looks like I'll have to pick up medication tomorrow, remind me, will ya?"
Perseverance yes that was apt, but no he was not going to use that name, any name. Kirill clenches his jaw when little Percy snuggled even closer, tiny wet nose pressed firmly to the Russian’s throat.
Jason closes his eyes, willing his body to calm down. At least Kirill had managed more than one word responses tonight. Actually, Kiril had talked more tonight than he had in six months. That was a step forward, in his opinion. Jason yawns and rubs his face, slowly drifting off to sleep as the last thing on his mind was a thought of what it must be like cuddled up to Kirill like that.
TBC
Author: rufferto and kitty_trio
Fandom: Bourne Supremacy/FPS
Characters: Jason Bourne/Kirill
Prompt: #16 Puppy/Kitten
Word Count: 1807
Rating: PG-13 for adult situations (eventually NC-17, Slash)
Disclaimer: It’s Fiction! Never happened. All lies from troubled minds. We do not own Jason, Kirill or any characters from the Bourne universe. Other characters are figments of vivid imaginations, any similarity to persons real or fictitious is merely incidental. No money made from this fantasy.
Author's Notes: Two young guns in spy school will not only learn to become lovers and assassins, but 'do it' against a backdrop of fluffy snags along the way.
This came from Karl’s comments about a running joke on the set that Kirill shot Jason’s girlfriend in Goa because the two had a ‘thing’ whilst in spy school together. Written for the 25fluffyfics Challenge.
Click button for our Fluffy Table:
Banner manip as always, made lovingly by rufferto, (ignore silly fluffy icons by Kitty)
Prompt 16: Puppy/Kitten
Jason tosses a pillow at Kirill, it's two AM and the Russian won't stop flipping about in bed. "Will you be quiet!" he hisses.
A hand snakes out and clamps over the talkative American's mouth, "Sleeping, not talking."
Jason aims a kick at the Russian, "Get off me!" He grunts as he shifts to the side. "What the hell's wrong with you tonight?"
Kirill growls low in his throat, flipping over to face his aggravating companion. "You take, keep it warm." He thrusts a small kitten that had been making a pincushion of his chest into Jason's arms.
Jason's face is a comical mixture of incredulity and annoyance. It's just then that he sniffles, cursing his one weakness, allergies. "Christ. How did you manage to get that... thing... in here without anyone seeing?" It was cold and wet, and it is raining outside. Jason finally realizes that Kirill was drenched. "And you're shaking too." Fortunately, animals like Jason, even though he doesn't like them much. He picks the scruffy looking kitten up and it immediately clings to him, mewing. "Kirill, how long were you outside?" He whispers fiercely.
Kirill absently pulls up his wet shirt examining the damage done by the small bundle of claws and fur. “Guard dogs, chasing” he shrugs, unconcerned about his wet condition. His eyes glitter in the room’s low light. “Too small to survive alone. Needs someone to talk to it. You.”
"What about you?" Jason reaches over for his towel and wraps the kitten in it, humming to it softly. "That's it kiddo, relax." He barely avoids getting a scratch. "You need to change. Christ, you're hurt. Your leg is bleeding. That looks like a bite!" The shorter, stockier man realizes he never had been asleep anyway so what's the point of trying. He is glad that it's dark in the room. It means he does not have to see everything. Kirill's wet nipples beneath that shirt were distracting enough. Stop that, Jason Bourne. He chides himself, you're not in Chicago. "It's hungry." He finally realizes. "It looks like its hungry, may some milk. Hey, have milk in the fridge. Get it, will ya?"
One corner of Kirill’s mouth lifts in amusement as Bourne falls under the spell of the small creature. The American was too distracting the way he was always trying to include Kirill in conversation. The young man even penetrated his sleep. The intense eyes, mop of sandy hair, the quirky way he found amusement in the oddest things. Hopefully the kitten will shift Bourne’s attention away from Kirill so he can work on countering the unwanted attraction to the younger man.
Silently and gracefully Kirill rises from the bed, stripping off shirt and torn trousers on the way to the small fridge. The interior light accentuates the lean muscles of his tall frame as he digs within for the milk carton. A thin trickle of blood trailing down his shin is ignored when the quiet youth looks for a shallow bowl. He thrusts the carton and bowl at the other before heading to the small stall shower. Unmindful of his nudity, boxers are peeled off in the bathroom doorway. As usual the door and part of the plastic curtain is left open, Kirill’s only dislike: small enclosures.
Jason accepts the bowl with a wordless smile (for once), this because he can't help but stare at Kirill's ass, the boxers clinging wetly, leaving nothing to the imagination. The kitten wiggles out of his arms and makes a dash for the bowl. He laughs as it eagerly starts to lap at the mixture. This makes Jason's stomach rumble and he rises to go to the fridge to grab the other half of the sandwich he'd put in there earlier. Their tiny dorm-like apartment was nearly impossible to maneuver in without seeing each other. He makes the mistake of glancing at the bathroom. The sight freezes him in his tracks. This was bad, this was very bad. Jason mentally shakes himself. "Good thing I guess," He says, clearing his throat and looking away from the shower as he chews. "Poor thing was starving."
Kirill grunts in reply, as he rubs soap into the small punctures on his leg. Not too deep but still bleeding, the sting from the soap pulls his attention from watching Bourne slide his lips around another bite. He turns the hot water tap higher, reveling in the endless supply of steaming water at this late hour. By the time he exits the bathroom with only a towel slung low on lean hips, the kitten is curled into a tight ball on his pillow. He directs a pointed look at his roommate, who grins in return.
Jason curses under his breath as he sits on Kirill's bed and scratches the kitten's neck lightly, earning purrs. Idly he wonders if Kirill would purr like that. Six months of living with the man was driving him crazy, he needed a girl or something to relieve the frustration. He looks up at Kirill, smiling brightly. "Well, look at that, it likes you more than it likes me." He chuckles. "Guess you're sharing your bed tonight."
In the process of looking for a thicker t-shirt, Kirill’s eyes leap to Jason’s at the mention of sharing a bed. No, that was not how the statement was meant he chides himself. No one here knew of his life before, and as long as he kept his distance from Bourne, no one would. He slips the shirt over his head and tosses the towel into the bathroom. Staring at the sleeping kitten, he finally climbs into his bed, head resting on one arm and curling onto his side, pulling pillow and all to nestle in his body’s curve.
Jason watches, unable to take his eyes from the sight. They share a room, him one side and Kirill the other. Something unbidden made him reach over and touches Kiril’s shoulder, "What about your leg?" That was a mistake, once he'd touched him, he was unconsciously stroking. "It looks bad, you need something on that. I'll uh, go get the iodine."
Kirill flinches at the touch. Not from revulsion but the heat from Jason’s hand is sending flames down to pool in his gut. He closes his eyes and shivers, “No need, scars, badge of honor.” He says cryptically, hoping the pillow hides his body’s response to the other young man.
Jason shakes his head stubbornly and moves to the kitchen again to fetch the first aid kit. His fingers tingled from where they had touched the Russian. He thanked god that tomorrow they would be too busy for him to reflect on this. Sniper practice was in the morning. He was having a great deal of trouble with aim. It wasn’t fair that Kirill was so much better. He wetted a rag with warm water and came back in to sit on the edge of the bed and pull up the blanket to reveal the wound. "Just to be sure, you never know with these bites, don't want to get uh rabies or anything or infection." He drags his eyes away from Kirill's. If he was honest with himself, he just wanted to touch that suspiciously soft skin again.
Sighing to show his reluctance, Kirill rolls his eyes. The American is in his stubborn mood, and no one would get any sleep until Jason got his way. He grits his teeth at the soft touch of the rag, and unconsciously wriggles one long finger against the kitten’s silky-soft warm belly.
Jason wets his lips, dabbing a bit of iodine on the wounds against the flesh exposed to him. Flesh he'd seen every day for six months since he was first introduced to the man. A heavy silence hangs in the air as he tries to rein in his ragged breath. His fingers linger as he places a bandage over the wound and pats it gently. He looks at the man and kitten, more aroused than he's been in a long time. "Got a name for uh it?" Jason rests his hand on Kirill's leg, unable to pull away. It must be because of how late it is. Come to think of it, what was Kirill doing out so late anyway?
“No name, name means attachment.” Moving his leg from under Jason’s touch, Kirill stares hard at the young man, before closing his eyes in dismissal, “No attachments.” If Bourne did not go back to his own bed, Kirill would need to run another circuit or two of the compound. Though it did not show, his nerves were frayed from the discussion with their C.O. this afternoon. As the better marksman, Kirill was now assigned the task of one-on-one lessons with Bourne. That meant additional daily contact, intimate contact, as Kirill showed the American the proper positions of holding and aiming his weapons.
Jason's eyes falter as Kirill's penetrate his. "What did you intend to do with it? She seems to like cuddling with you. Are you warm enough with this blanket? You've been outside for a long time.” He fingers the edge of it. “Don't want you to catch a chill." He supposed he talked a lot because it made up for the Russian’s strange silence. Their conversations however, never amounted to much of anything. Kirill wouldn't let anyone in. "Your skin feels cold." Okay, now he was fishing for excuses to stay on the same bed. Time to get up, Jason. The shorter man finally rises and slips back to his own bed. As he moves he collects his pillow. "Try not to snore."
Snorting at the last comment, Kirill wrapped his free arm around the bundle of purring fluff. “Teach it to survive,” was all he said.
Jason thinks for a minute, going over the usual pet names in his head. "Hey, I know. We'll call her Percy, short for Miss Perseverance. After all, she did survive until you came along." He laughs at the idea and curses as he sniffles. The damn allergies were already starting to act up. "Looks like I'll have to pick up medication tomorrow, remind me, will ya?"
Perseverance yes that was apt, but no he was not going to use that name, any name. Kirill clenches his jaw when little Percy snuggled even closer, tiny wet nose pressed firmly to the Russian’s throat.
Jason closes his eyes, willing his body to calm down. At least Kirill had managed more than one word responses tonight. Actually, Kiril had talked more tonight than he had in six months. That was a step forward, in his opinion. Jason yawns and rubs his face, slowly drifting off to sleep as the last thing on his mind was a thought of what it must be like cuddled up to Kirill like that.
TBC