Okay, so I started to write this in December 2007 and have been on and of it for the last year, but this week I had enough of it and just finished it so chapter 3 isn't exactly the best, but all together I want to believe I did a good job, although some might complain that Black and White are pretty OOC, but I'm horrible romantic and this fluffy plot-bunny has incredible sharp teeth ^^;

Just to warn you: I've got violence (what a surprise) in and the mentioning of torture in here, but somehow the story still get's fluffier with every chapter, so ... yeah, if fluffy is not your cup of tea you should consider to stop reading after the first chapter.

By the way, they later will also have a `relationship´. Nothing grafic, but it will be mentioned. You have been warned, so I don't want to hear complains.

Oh, and sorry about the Boney M. joke. It's a lame and I only did it because I needed a name and my playlist went retro on me ... and because I thought it's hilarious that time.

Anyway, I hope you like it.


Unwritten spy rule No 1: Never be unarmed.


Instead of wondering who would dare to bother him at this time of day, or rather night, Black just took his gun and activated it. It was either one of his fellow spies or an enemy, although it was very unlikely for them to actually knock, but he was part of this for too long already to be fooled by such mundane details. Still, he couldn't help but wonder how they had found him here. This was his private apartment for crying out loud and when he said `private´ he meant that not even his own embassy knew it even existed.

Anyway. It seemed after tonight he would have to find a new sanctuary, which was a pity considering that he actually liked it very much here. Friendly neighbours, beautiful location in a calm residential district, far away enough from everything that could be interesting to any spy but still near enough to get to work without much problems. Only death promised a more peaceful atmosphere.

Well, whoever dared to destroy his little piece of heaven was going to suffer indescribable before he would even consider asking why they came after him in the first place. Had they any idea what a pain in the ass the real estate market was even if you weren't paranoid?

Moving like the silent shadow he was supposed to be Black – it actually wasn't his name, not even his code-name. Their insult battles had at one point simply gotten so far that he hadn't come up with anything smarter that call him `White´ because of his mainly white clothes and now they were both stuck with it – went to his front door, kneeled down and looked through the door crack, searching for any hint of a bomb.

To his surprise he only saw a hand, probably still connected to the body it belonged to, but he hadn't become one of the top spies – if not the top spy – because he let something unusual distract him in any other way than making him more alarmed. He also searched for a trigger through the keyhole, but couldn't find even the smallest hint so the only thing he actually could do, was to open the door and be prepared for an explosion and missiles of any kind as well as one of his neighbours, although the last part was very unlikely considering how late it was.

*Well, there's only one way to find out.*

Black pulled the door open ... and nothing happened. In fact, the corridor looked exactly the way it should, except for a lone, unmoving figure next to his door, dressed in white.

The dark spy quickly secured the corridor, before he checked on the person and only when he was sure that it was not a doll – that had already been tried on him before and he definitely wasn't going to get fooled twice by the same trick – and that this was indeed his favourite archenemy, he allowed himself to be surprised.

What in the name of all that was holy was White doing in front of his private apartment in the middle of the night? And would someone be so kind and explain to him why he was unconsciousness and in a horrible condition above all? It wasn't like he hadn't seen the other spy beaten up before, but never when he wasn't the reason for it and they hadn't run into each other for a while. It gave him a feeling of wrongness, but he ignored it in favour of considering his options carefully.

He could always follow his embassies orders and just kill the man, get rid of the corpse, maybe take a few pictures to prove it and catapult himself at the very top of the payroll as well as the white nation's most wanted list. Not that he hadn't archived both already, but in the end curiosity got the better of him anyway.

Why would White come to him of all people – and no one could tell him it was coincidence that the other had dragged himself into the fifth of eleven floors of an apartment building between two identical buildings and to a door not less than six apartments from the stairway as well as the elevator – when he should be at a hospital or at least the sick bay of his embassy?

Maybe he should just go back in and pretend he hadn't seen anything, but in a few hours his neighbours would wake up. Black somehow doubted he would be able to talk himself out of having a half dead man in front of his door, not to mention that he didn't want to traumatise the pair next door and their two kids. Of course he wouldn't admit, even under the worst torture, that he might have a soft spot for them, but the point was: the less attention everyone paid to him and his apartment, the better.

And then there was this emotion, one he hadn't felt in years, at least not since the early days of his spy-training. He didn't like it at all, especially because of the reason it came back now. In fact, he didn't even want to name it, but nonetheless did he feel compassion rise inside him. Not very much, but enough to put his gun away and pick the other man up.

"I'm so going to regret this" he told himself before he made sure absolutely no one else was around and carried White into his domicile.


Unwritten spy rule No 2: Never expect mercy.


Two hours later Black let himself slip into his favourite armchair, brandy on ice in one hand, his gun in the other, eyes resting on his still unconsciousness counterpart, who resembled more a mummy now than a man, on his couch. He had had to correct his first assumption. White had not only been beaten up; by the look of it has it been damn near the line of being tortured, but by whom? If his own embassy would have gotten hold of White he would have known about it and Lady Grey was ... well, she was a woman. That didn't make her any less dangerous and she was not to be underestimated, but her methods were more subtle and, although just as unpleasant, nothing like this. Something about knowing to value life, she had said that one time; he had never understood it, though.

This would leave only the option of a forth party invading their business, which would also explain to a certain degree why White had come to him – the enemy of my enemy and all that –, but it was not very likely that a new organization could be good enough to trap the man even he had had his fair share of problems with, without kicking up some dust beforehand.

On second thought would that actually fit into the story quite nicely, but his guts were telling him that wasn't the case here and he trusted his instincts for a good reason.

At least he had someone to satisfy his curiosity and this someone was just waking up.

Black expected the other spy to reach for his gun – which laid in Black's safe – jump up, analyse the situation and at least try to escape. He was prepared for that, already moving to take aim at the other, but again he was surprised. Acting against every single instinct the other must have developed during his own training, White only lifted his head, looked around alarmed and laid back with a relieved, if disappointed expression as soon as he spotted Black. That he was unarmed in his enemy's apartment and aimed at by said enemy didn't seem to bother him at all.

"Mind to tell me what you were doing at my door?"

No reaction. Had that crazy bastard gone back to sleep? It would be the first thing this night not surprising him at all.

"You should know best I'm not known for my patience, so answer me before I consider just shooting you."

"If you'd indented to kill me, you would have already done so. You want information, I've got them and, since I'm not in the shape to survive any further torture, I would like to go back to sleep, if you don't mind."

That bastard! He seemed to be in a better shape than Black would have given him credit for, already getting cocky again, but he was in a bad enough shape to accidentally let valuable information lack through.

"So you have been tortured."

White actually winced.

"Just leave me alone."

"Unlikely, considering this is my apartment."

The wounded didn't answer, just continued to stare Black right in the eyes until the dark dressed man sighed and rose.

"I can't believe I'm actually doing this" he stated neutral and went to the kitchen. Although White wasn't in the condition to fight, probably not even to stand, and Black had the only weapon in the room. Yet he never let the other spy out of his sight while he made them a few sandwiches. One could never be too careful after all.

He put the plate down on the white spy's stomach, took one for himself and went searching for a blanket since the other one would most probably stay for at least a few hours more and it was damn cold outside and also in here. He didn't care if White was comfortable, but he definitely hadn't gone through the work of patching him back together to let him freeze to death without any more information on this matter.

"You're either growing old or sentimental. Or both" White teased emotionless, but accepted the cover without hesitation.

"You're one to talk. I'm just trying something new and while you're here you'll never know what is going to happen next. Your food could be poisoned, I could stab you while you sleep ... You're completely at my mercy right now" Black said giving the other spy his mark trade evil-bastard-grin before heading for his bedroom.

"You wouldn't dare ...!"

"Why not? You're overestimating you're value to me. I actually don't need any information from you and, as you know, I can be quite a sadist if I want to. Rest well. Oh, and the little one next door is teething, but you should be used to cries, shouldn't you?"

Black closed the door, satisfied with the outcome of their little chat. White had looked quite worried and that certainly not because of the teething baby. He was probably not going to get much sleep, while Black himself set up the trap on his door – just in case – and got as comfortable as he could with his archenemy in the next room. The next day promised to be much fun.


Unwritten spy rule No 3: Never show mercy.


The following day turned out to be no fun at all.

Since Black hated to waste food he had to tell White just that in order to make him eat his ration and he couldn't bring himself to torment the other anymore than just handling him in a rough manner.

In addition to that made him the question who'd done that to the other spy worry more and more, because that same person/organisation could also be a real threat to him, so after breakfast – left aside that it was actually time for lunch – he seated himself again in his armchair and repeated his question.

"Who did this to you?"

"You ask pretty much for one who has no need for my information."

Fantastic. He should have expected his own words to be turned against him. Well, he had, but that made it no less frustrating.

"Call it curiosity."

"Curiosity kills the cat."

"You should know best, laying half dead in front of my door, which reminds me to mention that I know that you knew exactly whose door you knocked on."

"Now you're overestimating your value. I was at my limit and it was a door to an enlightened room, which usually means someone's still awake. Now kill me, let me go or start asking some real questions before I die out of boredom!"

They could go on like this for hour just for the fun of mocking the other, but a knock interrupted them. A sharp glare promised White some `real´ questions if he tried anything, while Black went to open the door, wondering who it would be this time.

He half expected Lady Grey stopping by, but to his relieve it was only his neighbour with her little daughter.

"Morning, Ms M."

"Morning? It's almost noon" the young woman laughed. She always seemed to be happy and he wondered if it was only because her husband wasn't – she had told him once he absolutely hated his job, but did it anyway for his family.

"I'm sorry, if I interrupted something. I heard voices."

Black followed her look over his shoulder, mainly to make sure the other spy didn't do anything. White had turned around and vanished under the blanket just in time so that the woman would not get suspicious by seeing a wounded man in her neighbour's apartment. The police was something they both really could do without.

"Er, yes. He's just an acquaintance. Poor sod got kicked out by his wife; I let him crash here."

"I see" she replied, believing him without hesitation. To her he was just a handsome middle aged man who wasn't very often at home since his job for the government kept him busy all the time and he never gave her reason to doubt that – left aside that he was `such a lovely dear´ when he actually was at home.

Maybe he would have considered calling her a friend would he have chosen any other profession.

"So I guess you can't take Nathalie in for a while, could you? I need to go to the grocery."

"I fear not, Ms M, but I need to get a few things myself, so if you'd just hand me your list I could bring your stuff around, too."

"Oh, thank you very much, you're a real life saviour."

Damn it. On day he would start thinking before he actually said something like this, but now it was too late.

"I'm sorry we're such a nuisance. Sometimes it just seems like things are disappearing all by them self."

"You're welcome, Ms M. Has Nathalie all her teeth yet? She didn't cry last night."

"Oh, I really hope she has. Could need a few days of proper sleep myself. Sorry we keep you awake, too."

"No problem, Ms M."

"Boney, dear, I told you to call me Boney. Everyone does."

"Alright, Boney. I'll come over and pick up the list in a few minutes, okay?"

"No need to hurry. Forgot to write one anyway. I'm terribly sorry."

"It's alright. Just go and write it while I get my coat."

"Okay. Thank you so much."

Black waved her goodbye and finally closed the door, sighing with relieve. As much as he liked the livid woman, sometimes he believed the only way to make her shut up was to actually struggle her and sometimes he wasn't too far from it either.

"Just to make it clear: yes, I like them, no, it's not a weakness to enjoy the company of normal people, and no, I don't like them enough to get blackmailed" he said while walking in his bedroom and picking up some random clothes out of his closet, throwing them at White.

"I'm going to the grocery and I want you to be gone before I return. Use the second key and close the door behind you. I'll at least change lockers anyway, not to mention move away. And, for God's sake, don't make too much of a mess when you search the apartment. The only valuable thing I have here are a few weapons – including yours – which are all in my jacket anyway."

"You're kicking me out?"

"No. If you would live here I would kick you out, but since this is my home and you're just an unwanted guest I give you the chance to leave by yourself before I make you. You have three-quarters of an hour."


Unwritten spy rule No 4: Never stay in the debt of anyone.


When Black came back from the grocery with four large bags of which only the smallest was for himself – by all means, did they expect guest or had this family a black hole or two to feed? – he was greeted by a every cheerful Boney with his second key and a monolog about how lovely this friend of his' was.

"Oh, yeah, he is ... nice" he said taking the keys.

*I'm gonna kill him. Why the fuck didn't he just left the damn thing in the mailbox.*

"Sorry, but it was a rather short night and I still have some cleaning up to do."

"Of course. Do you need any help, dear?"

"No, no, thanks. It's not that bad, just bothersome."

It wasn't even a lie, not really at least. When he left his apartment been relative clean considering he liked to be lazy when in private; just some random cups and old newspapers laying around, and that was exactly the state he found his home in, when he opened the door. The only thing different seemed to be the absence of the other spy.

*Okay, how much could he possible done without leaving a trace while I was gone?*

Black decided the answer held a pretty large list of things and started to search, but to his surprise even after four hours of intensive scanning his own, familiar apartment he could find nothing out of place: no traps aside from those he set up himself, no cameras, no microphones, neither seemed anything missing beside the clothes he gave White ... and the blanket.

*Don't tell me that fucker just left and only took the stupid blanket! What the hell is going on here?*

For a brief moment Black considered to say it out loud, just to prove it really sounded as ridiculous in his ears as it did in his head, instead he poured himself some whiskey, but didn't drink. After all it could be poisoned.

*Honestly, with what? He had nothing with himI and my soaps aren't that poisonous*he thought, but skipped the liquid into the sink nonetheless.

*Better safe than sorry. What a waste. Good luck I brought a new one.*


Three days later the delivery service of a laundry nearby brought him a package, already paid, with the clothes he had lent White in it. It was the closest thing to a thank you he would probably ever get; the blanket however never returned.