#hopefully people remember who quartermaster is in the James Bond series

[saphic-with-t]

Something I just realized:

Kristen has Fig as her Paladin/knight

Adaine has Fabian as her “champion of the oracle”

All we need now is for Gorgug to become the Quartermaster to Riz’s 007.

[cali-holland]

Golden Bullets, Ch. 3: All The Time in the World

Harrison Osterfield X Reader, James Bond!AU

Harrison Osterfield, Agent 007, was once the best MI6 agent around with the astounding reputation as a womanizer. Between illegal gold smuggling and black market trading of weapons, he finds himself deeper in his latest mission than intended, weaving himself into a web of the criminal organization, S.P.E.C.T.R.E.. At the center of it all is the one woman who’s never fallen for his charms- you, Agent 006, the best MI6 agent, the new assistant director of the program, and his new partner.

Word Count: 3000

Gif is not mine

Golden Bullets Masterlist

Masterlist   Harrison Osterfield Masterlist

Let me know if you want to be added to the series tag list

Warnings: violence (using toiletries as weapons bc why not), death, swearing, involuntary drug usage, drinking, vomiting (self-inflicted)

Featured Song: We Have All the Time in the World by Louis Armstrong from On Her Majesty’s Secret Service (1969)

 ~ “We have all the time in the world, time enough for life to unfold all the precious things love has in store”

~~~

“That can’t be her real name.”

“Tom, I’m being serious.” Harrison said, but even he couldn’t disguise the amused grin on his face when describing the intoxicatingly beautiful woman that was Pussy Galore to the quartermaster.

“Sounds like a horny teenage boy named her, right?” You joked, sitting beside Harrison on the hotel room couch. The laptop was propped up on the coffee table so that you and Harrison could both video chat with Tom, discussing the previous night.

“Is that your bullet wound?” He asked as he stepped closer to the camera, as if that’d help him see your bandaged arm better. Following last night’s events, it was difficult for you to really move your arm fluidly, so you had opted to wear a tank top on your day “off”. You leaned in, carefully taking off the bandage to show the damaged skin and stitches.

“Hurts like a bitch, but I’ll live.” You told him.

“Nice stitch work, 007. Practicing needlework in your spare time?” The quartermaster teased.

“Shove off.” Harrison rolled his eyes at his friend’s comment while you laughed, fixing the bandage, “Did you finish getting the specs on the flash drive?”

“I’m trying, but there seems to be an issue.” Tom stated, his eyes trailing over another computer screen. You looked down at the golden flash drive currently connected to the laptop. Sciarra was dead and all you had from last night was that one flash drive, you and Harrison both needed it to lead back to Goldfinger.

“You’re the greatest hacker of the century. What could possibly prevent you from getting past this flash drive’s security?” You asked.

“Thank you for the compliment, love, but I can’t hack it from here. It appears the security system on this drive is a replica of one I made, which should mean I can get into it from here, but it seems like I made it too sophisticated.” He paused, with a sigh, “I have a hunch about who could be behind this kind of security system.”

You looked between him and Harrison, both agents seemingly to wordlessly agree on who could be behind the drive. Knowing you’d want an answer, Harrison spoke up, “It’s Raoul Silva.”

“You mean the former agent turned cyberterrorist? I thought you killed him last year.” You said, and he gave you an odd look, “What? I told you I read your file, Osterfield.”

“I’m flattered you remember my cases.” He smirked, before Tom cleared his throat on the screen.

“As I was saying, I need to physically have the drive attached to my computer to get through its security and hopefully track Goldfinger. Silva was connected to numerous weapons dealers, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he helped Goldfinger set up security before he died.”

“So you can’t hack this?”

Tom looked at Harrison with furrowed eyebrows, questioning his friend. “Can’t hack this? Did you not listen to anything I just said? What exactly do you think my expertise is?”

“Sitting behind a computer screen.” He joked.

“Well, I'll hazard I can do more damage on my laptop sitting in my pajamas before my first cup of Earl Grey than you can do in a year in the field.” Tom said, and you laughed, nodding, fully aware of his skills, “Either way, I’ll meet you two in Montenegro to finish on the flash drive.”

“Montenegro?” You and Harrison both questioned.

“Right.” He laughed a little, realizing you two didn’t know about your next step of the mission, “M will call you two later tonight. I don’t know all the details, but I know you two are going to Montenegro, so I assume I’ll be meeting you there.”

“I’ve always wanted to go to Montenegro.” Harrison smiled fondly.

“I’ll let you two go. M should be calling soon.” Tom said before ending the call. You let out a small sigh, leaning back on the couch comfortably.

“Have you ever been to Montenegro?”

“Once, but not on a mission.” You replied, not really wanting to discuss your past trip. Unfortunately for you, your partner was observant and caught onto that- and he was also a bit of an asshole, so he pressed the topic.

“You know, I tried reading the Montenegro part of your file, but almost everything was redacted because the clearance of that file is only you and M.” He stated, watching you carefully as you shifted uncomfortably, tightening your jaw.

“What about it?”

“Who did you kill in Montenegro that is so private only you and M can know?” He questioned, and you glared over at him.

Before you could reply, the laptop began to ring, signaling an incoming call from M. You sat up on the couch, answering it.

“Agent 006, 007.” She greeted with the normal stern look on her face.

“M.” You and Harrison both nodded in reply to her.

“Q tells me you two found a flash drive, one suspected to be linked to Goldfinger.” She started, “And that Sciarra is dead.”

“The sniper got to him before we could get him in the DB10.” Harrison explained, and you swallowed a lump in your throat as M’s cold eyes trailed over the bandage on your arm.

“I also heard the sniper shot 006.” She said, “Tomorrow, you two will leave for Montenegro. Agent 009 has been tracking a private banker who funds terrorists, Le Chiffre. Le Chiffre seems to be Goldfinger’s competition at the moment. 009 reported multiple murders of Le Chiffre’s men with golden bullets through their skulls, all of which are sniper shots.”

“Forgive me, M, but if Agent 009 is on the case, then why are we going after Le Chiffre as well?” Harrison asked, voicing the question that was also floating around in your head. Why would MI6 need three agents on a private banker case?

“Because last we heard from 009 himself, he was being followed by Le Chiffre, and last night, local police found him tortured to death. His balls were so beaten, they could barely identify him as a man anymore- one of Le Chiffre’s signature torture methods.” At her words, Harrison squirmed uncomfortably beside you, subconsciously resting a hand over his crotch protectively. “Since Sciarra is a dead end until Q cracks that flash drive, Le Chiffre is our next best lead to Goldfinger.” 

“When do we leave tomorrow?” You spoke up.

“I am working with the Monaco police right now to acquire a private jet for the two of you. I will let you know in the morning. And, remember, this mission is not a personal one.” With that, she hung up the call and you shut off the laptop, getting up from the couch.

“What happened in Montenegro?” Harrison asked you, standing up from his spot on the couch. You didn’t reply as you pulled on a sweatshirt to hide your bandage. Wordlessly, you grabbed the ice bucket and left the hotel room.

You didn’t really need ice, but it wouldn’t hurt to ice your arm or tense muscles- besides, you needed to be away from your partner for a few minutes. Harrison was definitely getting more bearable, but you didn’t exactly want to tell him about Montenegro, not yet. When you came back from getting the bucket of ice, you saw a hotel room service busboy, standing outside of your door. Just before he knocked, you spoke up, “Is that for room 1964?”

“Yes.” The busboy replied almost nervously, holding up a bucket of champagne out to you.

“Thank you.” You smiled as you took the bucket from him, balancing it with your own ice bucket. He nodded, before disappearing down the hall. You laughed to yourself as you looked at the expensive bottle of champagne; leave it to Harrison to want to drink before leaving Monaco. Unlocking the hotel room door, you pushed it open, and Harrison looked up from his phone as he laid down on his bed.

“Champagne?” You offered, setting down the buckets on the coffee table.

“Why not celebrate Monaco?” He laughed. Both of you sat down on the couch, and he effortlessly popped open the champagne bottle. You held up two empty flute glasses for him to pour the champagne into.

“To Monaco.”

“To Monaco.” You clicked your glass against Harrison’s before both of you took sips of the smooth liquid.

“Does this taste odd to you?” Harrison asked, licking his lips from the very small amount of champagne that had actually made it in his mouth before he spit it back in.

“I’m not the person to ask. It’s been a while since I had nice champagne like this.” You laughed, taking another sip of the golden drink.

“It’s probably just too fancy for my tastebuds.” He chuckled, eyeing the glass.

“With all the martinis you drink, your tastebuds must be dead.” You teased, already starting to feel cloudy from the alcohol. You wondered how high the proof was, but that thought was gone as quickly as it came. “You drown yourself in martinis- shaken, not stirred.”

“Martinis are superior. You’d know that if you’d drown yourself in anything.” He quipped back.

“It’d take a while for me to drown in anything- I can hold my breath for six minutes.” You replied confidently, sipping some more of the champagne.

“I can only hold my breath for two. That’s impressive.” His eyes widened in surprise at the little fun fact.

“Most people can only hold them for two, but I was a swimmer growing up and I practiced holding my breath for long periods of time. I’ve got the best lungs on MI6.”

“And the best shot, too, the way I hear it.” Harrison laughed a little, before leaning in closer to you on the couch. Your face was close enough to his that you could feel his breath, and you felt yourself starting to, ironically, drown in his ocean blue eyes. With his voice low and just above a whisper, he asked, “How does someone get the reputation of a maneater?”

“How does someone get the reputation of a womanizer?” You replied, just as quietly. Pulling away from him, you took another long sip of your champagne, the once full glass now empty. The room fell silent before you solemnly spoke up, “I killed him.”

“Who?”

“My weakness.” You rolled up your tank top just enough to show the bullet wound scar on your hip. “I was in Montenegro on vacation with my last boyfriend. I spotted Le Chiffre at a casino, and I called M for permission to strike. When I returned to the hotel room, my boyfriend was there with Le Chiffre- he’d been working for him the whole time. I took a shot at him, but I missed, and he shot me. Then, I shot him again, but that time, I didn’t miss. The only reason Le Chiffre didn’t kill me was Agent 009. Le Chiffre ran, and 009 saved me.”

“So, Montenegro is-”

“Where I became the maneater.” You said. Harrison reached a hand out to touch the scar, but you slapped his hand away, fixing your shirt.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” He replied, his voice filled with pity. You could tell he wasn’t just apologizing for overstepping and trying to touch the scar- no, he was apologizing for ever thinking less of you based on your reputation and he pitied you for your story, for all you had to go through to get that name. It was then that you realized he hadn’t really had much to drink of the champagne.

“Why’d you order this if you weren’t going to drink it?” You asked, and Harrison furrowed his eyebrows at you.

“What are you talking about?”

“The champagne. You ordered it when I got ice?”

“I didn’t order this.” The room fell silent, save for the clattering of your champagne flute against the floor from you dropping it. 

“Neither of us ordered this?” You questioned, and he shook his head. Immediately, you got up and stumbled to the bathroom, only making Harrison more confused.

“What are you doing?” Harrison followed after you.

“I’m puking because I was just fucking drugged. No wonder I’m so goddamn talkative right now.” You stated, sitting down in front of the toilet. You looked over at him in the hallway, “Are you going to call Q and have him analyze the champagne or are you going to watch me vomit up whatever drug is in my body? You had less than me, so figure out what happened.”

“How the fuck did someone drug us?” He grumbled, closing the door and rushing back into the room. He pulled up the laptop and called the quartermaster.

“I was just about to call you.” Tom said with a laugh, but his smile dropped as he saw Harrison pouring some champagne into a testing vial.

“Find out what’s in this. We’ve been drugged.” He explained, placing the vile on one of Q’s special testing trays, equipped for analyzing substances through the computer. The computer couldn’t figure out exactly what the substance was, but Q, being the genius he is, could based on the computer’s analysis.

“How did two of Britain’s top agents get drugged with a bottle of champagne?” Q asked, typing away at his computer. Harrison grimaced, hearing the distinct sounds of you in the other room. “Is- Is Agent 006 vomiting?”

“Yes, she’s trying to clear out her system.”

“Shouldn’t you be doing that too?” He looked at his friend skeptically.

“I didn’t even have a full sip of the champagne and it’s been in my system long enough that it’s already effective. She drank an entire glass flute, so however potent this drug is, she had a lot of it.”

“Well, you two got lucky.” Tom breathed out, reviewing the results. “It was a harmless drug, it’s not poisonous or anything. It’s meant to disorient you, weaken your fighting, and make you more conversational. It’s used for interrogations.”

“So that means-“ Before Harrison could finish his thought process, there was a knock at the hotel room door. He quietly shut off the computer, ending the phone call swiftly, and grabbed the golden flash drive, pocketing the valuable object. Grabbing his gun and yours, he softly moved across the room to conceal himself behind the wall.

“Room service.” A voice behind the door called, and Harrison quietly cocked his gun while pocketing yours.

In less than a moment, the door burst, and he kept himself quiet against the wall, hoping the silence in the bathroom meant you knew what was happening out here. Based on the sound of feet, Harrison calculated there were three men in the room now. One stepped past the wall, gun raised as he surveyed the room. Harrison stepped forward, shooting the man dead immediately.

Meanwhile, your ears perked up as you heard multiple footsteps outside the door. Your head was spinning from the drug concoction and the fact that you forced yourself to throw up. It wasn’t until you heard the first gunshot that you knew it was bad.

“Harrison,” You mumbled, pulling yourself up from the floor. Looking around the bathroom, you cursed at the lack of sharp objects. Grabbing your tweezers from the counter, you supposed they’d have to do. You flung open the bathroom door, jabbing the tweezers into the neck of the man nearest you. You kicked the other man down, pressing onto his neck with your foot.

“You’re okay.” Harrison breathed out, coming to stand beside you after he shot the other man, the one with the tweezers in his neck, again.

“Still light headed.” You replied. The man below you moved and Harrison was quick to point his gun at him threateningly. You stepped back, allowing his steadier foot to replace yours. 

“Who sent you?” He questioned.

“G-Goldfinger.” The man wheezed out.

“And was it Goldfinger who made you drug us? How did you find us?”

The man just laughed in response, and you heard the sounds of the police sirens flooding down the street.

“They heard the shots. We gotta go.” You said, and Harrison nodded. You quickly loaded the bags as your partner kept a watchful eye on the enemy. Knowing there was no way you and Harrison could escape if the police got involved, you two left the other man there, alive but weak.

“Next time, no champagne.” Harrison stated once the two of you were seated in the DB10. You sent a quick message to Moneypenny, who would send the word onto M that you and Harrison were en route in the DB10, no private jet necessary tomorrow. Considering how long the drive was, you knew it’d be enough time for you two to meet with Q in Montenegro and catch Le Chiffre.

“You’re going to drive us to Montenegro in this car, and I’m going to forget I ever told you anything about that god awful place.” You groaned, leaning your head against the window. “What did they drug us with?”

“Q says it’s a harmless interrogation drug.” He replied, flicking his eyes over to you, a new softness to them, “Get some rest, you’ve had a rough go.”

You turned to face ahead, trying to get yourself comfortable, and the car was silent for a moment, the only sound coming from the DB10 moving against the road and the quiet Duran Duran song playing over the speakers. You looked over at Harrison, who had his eyes trained on the road, “Thank you.”

“For what?” He asked, genuinely curious about the sudden appreciation.

“For saving me yesterday and patching me up.” You said softly, studying his face for a moment, before shifting to look ahead once more. “I’d do the same for you.”

“Let’s hope you’ll never have to.”

~~~

General Tag List: @viagracex​ @theamazingtomholland​ @Hellomoveonby @heyitsshrez @harrisonosterfieldhazmyheart​ @joyleenl​ @t-o-m-holland​ @lonikje​ @sleepybesson​ @sunkisseddreamer​

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