Nice to meet you…again.

Author : Aceccentric.
Fandom : Alex Rider.
Pairing : Can be consider friendship or very, very slightly slash. Yassen/Alex (You may have to squint really hard.)
Rate : T

Warning : Slightly slash. OOC. Bad grammar. NoBeta. Names maybe misspelling.

Summary : Alex Rider lose a bet to a teenager pickpocket who he met by chance at a street one day and make it his life mission to find out who the hell is this boy. But all Alex knows right now is that his cerulean eyes look so familiar and his name is…Cossack?

Note : I really hope I could do better than this…

Disclaimer : Alex Rider belongs to Anthony Horowitz.


II. In which a spy lost a bet.

"So, they've got him."

"It seems so."

Blunt didn't show any reaction after that and Mrs. Jones took it as a sign of dismissal.

Yassen Gregorovich had escaped.

They'd searched through the entire hospital and its surrounding area. Nothing was found. The tapes from the security camera were useless. Smither confirmed that it had been intercepted from outside and Blunt concluded that the assassin must be taken by SCORPIA.

No way could MI6get him back now.

Mrs. Jones sighed. It had been a hectic week. The world best-known assassin had slipped off their clutch and their best agent's house was burnt down.

Their best agent.

Alex Rider.

She wondered what he was doing right now.


The said spy was currently eating Chocolate Decadence, once in a while, stealing a glance at his companion and pouting.

Ok…maybe frowning but in the thief's eyes, it surely looked like a pout.


Half an hour after the bet started, the moon already rose in the night and the street became more vacant; there was only the two of them, a man at the bus stop, the drunk and the women left.

Alex was getting bored and almost called off the bet when a van dived in and parked next to the lady. Two men came out, approaching her.

Both boys couldn't hear what was said, being on the opposite side of the street, but they were definitely persuading the woman to do something. And a moment later they saw one of the man grubbing the lady's arm, trying to drag her to the van.

Alex, being Alex, stepped out to help, but the other teen grubbed his arm tightly, stopping him. He was about to yell at the thief when he heard a loud slumming sound and looked back, fear for the worst.

What he saw, however, was not what he expected.

The women had kicked the man who seized her arm, breaking his balance and hurling him into back fall. She now pressed him down and put his arms behide his back, locking his wrist.

The other man panicked at the sight, taking out a pocket knife and attacking her, only to be stopped by the man in charcoal suit while the drunk man who, apparently, not drunk took care of the van's driver.

The police had everything under control.


Thus, Alex Rider lost the bet.

And he still couldn't figure out how the thief knew that woman was an officer.

With that thought, Alex couldn't resist to steal another glance at the said thief. The electric light at the shop made him see the other more clearly, even though he still refused to take off his cup. The boy was attractive, with blond hair that darker than his, pale skin and distinctly chiseled lips. Beside the white old cup, he wore a graffiti T-shirt (which doesn't suit him at all) and a pair of second hand jeans. His canvas shoes looked like it needs a wash.

He moved with a relaxed and graceful poise, like a dancer on stage.

Alex bet plenty of girls (and maybe boys) probably chasing him at school.

Noticed his stare, the thief looked up. Alex quickly bent his head down to avoid meeting eyes. Those pale blue eyes always disturbed him greatly. They stood out even half of his face covered by the shadow of his cup and they looked older than they should, liked his own eyes. Besides, whenever the other teen gazing at him, Alex would felt like he had been thoroughly explored, like the thief knew everything about him.

What bother Alex the most though, was the sentiments that often ran across the stranger eyes when looking at him.

"The ice-cream won't disappear by just staring at it, you know?" The other teen's face was blank, but there was a hint of teasing in his voice.

Startled but hid it, Alex scowled at the boy, digging his ice-cream and putting it into his mouth. Feeling the other gaze; Alex peeked through his blond hair. His eyes held those strange emotions again.

Some amusement and a little bit of mockery, mixed with bitterness and… what should he call that…compassion?

Alex didn't understand the boy at all.

He didn't understand himself either. He was a spy and by nature paranoid of strangers and unknown, but he felt strangely comfortable with the boy.

Why?

"What is it?"

Alex titled his head, confused by the other's question.

"It seems like you want to ask something, what is it?"

"Well…" The spy trailed off, thinking up some excuse. He hasn't got a clue why this boy made him feel like a child talking to an adult. "I'm just wondering how you can identify the officer. From my point of view, she didn't give anything out at all."

Alex sworn he saw a mix of triumph and satisfaction flashed in the thief eyes.

"You're right. She didn't. But her colleague sure did."

He paused.

"The man wearing an old charcoal suit always looks up from his book when someone came near her and I knew the sleeping man was not actually drunk, because, even though I could smell alcohol from his cloth, none came from his mouth." The thief explained, enjoying Alex's attention. "Besides, I heard that a couple of weeks ago there were a lot of women disappearing in this area."

"Why being a pickpocket if you can deduction like a detective?"

"Because pickpockets get paid more than detectives." His pale blue eyes sparkled with mirth before stood up, indicated that he is going.

"Wait!" The words came off before Alex could stop himself.

The other teen turned back, raising his eyebrows in question.

"What's your name?"

Hesitated for a moment, he answered.

"Cossack."


A/N : So…What do you think? Sorry, this chapter is a bit lame.