For Mi6-Cafe Rair Pair February! Pizza Prompts: “They’re stuck together in a shootout an

For Mi6-Cafe Rair Pair February! Pizza Prompts: “They’re stuck together in a shootout and have to find their way out”. And technically also “cuddling”…? Kind of? Anyway, there’s a story to go with this!You can read it on AO3 or right here, under the cut: They were trapped. Utterly and completely trapped. As the bullets zinged and whipped past them, Bond found himself cursing his luck. Here he was, after another ‘straightforward’ assignment had somehow gone terribly wrong, trapped in an abandoned warehouse while being shot at by two enemy gunmen from the only visible entrance – The window they had crawled through. Now he and Felix Leiter were hunched behind a big wooden crate, trapped like a pair of rats, waiting for the exterminators to deliver the final blow. There had to be a door somewhere, he knew. The trouble was that you couldn’t make out where, not in this awful mess of crates, canisters and other piles of rubbish. Worse still, Bond was slowly bleeding out from a bullet lodged in his side. He felt light-headed. A bad sign. If he continued to lose blood like this, he wouldn’t make it for much longer. If Bond fainted, that would be the end of it for both of them. Felix had no chance of dragging him out of here on his own and he most definitely wouldn’t leave Bond behind. That much he knew. No, he had to walk out of here on his own two feet. As the hail of bullets ceased for a second, Bond gritted his teeth against the pain and ducked out from behind the crate to deliver his retaliation. He barely had the time to drop back behind the crate as the enemy shots exploded into the room again, one bullet grazing the hairs on the back of his head as it zipped past. “Shit!” Bond spat against the explosive pain, the frustration and the futility of the situation. “Hang in there, James!” Felix said gravely. His eyes were strangely fixed on the opposite wall and his left hand’s grip on his gun had tightened. Then he took a deep breath and added: “And get ready to run like hell.”Before Bond could ask why, Felix dug his hook into the floor, pushed off and launched himself forward and into the open, firing three shots in the direction of the window before he stumbled behind a pile of metal canisters. Almost reflexively, Bond jumped up and ran after Felix, using the short moment in which their assailants ducked for cover to his advantage. Just for good measure, he sent another round of fire their way. And then he, too, was behind the canisters, Felix in front of him and heading straight for… A door. He’d found a door! Half-hidden behind a tattered old canvas, but a beautiful, wonderful way out! Not wanting to lose time having to fiddle with the lock, Bond aimed and shot at the lock, knocking a hole in it. Felix didn’t miss a beat. Keeping up his speed, he threw himself bodily against the door, knocked it open and fell into blessed freedom. When Bond caught up a moment later, he bent down and grabbed Felix by his upper arm, pulling the protesting man up. A definite mistake.Bond’s wound exploded with fire. It was all he could do to bite back his scream. Bright spots started dancing in front of his eyes and the throbbing pain made his stomach knot so badly with nausea, he had to choke back the rising bile. Felix threw his arms out in exasperation. “You goddamn idiot, you’re dead on your feet and help me up? C’mon!” He tucked his gun into the waistband of his trousers and wrapped his arm around Bond’s middle, his hand gripping Bond tightly and steadying him. They clumsily made their way across the grass and towards the near forest and the main road. Felix was limping slightly. He’d once explained to Bond that you could technically run with a prosthetic leg made for walking, but that it wasn’t a very good idea. Felix was quite likely exhausted and in pain and Bond felt a pang of guilt for having dragged him into yet another mess. Bond was pulled out of his dark thoughts by a slight squeeze from Felix’ hand. “You’ll have to give us cover, allright?” Felix said after a nervous glance back towards the warehouse. “Can you do that?” Bond nodded grimly, pulling his right arm off Felix’ shoulders and into position, so the gun was ready to be fired back towards the warehouse. With his other hand, he was still desperately trying to put pressure on his wound. After a perceived eternity and to their eternal relief, they reached the treeline without incident. The far-off shouts of the two gunmen hadn’t come nearer. They must not have seen them leave, Bond thought. Which would give them at least a few minutes’ worth of time until the bastards found the open door and came after them. Adequate time for them to find help. And a phone. Hopefully. “You know, once this is all over and we got you all patched up,” said Felix breathlessly as they entered the forest’s underbrush, “I think we should go out for dinner sometime. Have a date. We keep saying we will, but we never do.” Bond huffed a faint laugh. “That sounds lovely,” he managed. Felix nodded decisively, his gaze held straight ahead. “Good. Then it’s a date. Now don’t you die on me, you hear me? You don’t wanna owe me dinner in the afterlife.”  Despite his state, Bond grinned. This was as much of an exchange of affection as he was going to get right now. And he was fine with that. -- source link

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