Chapter 1: Superman
The first time he interrupted Q, James was lost in a maze-like warehouse and there were at least fifteen angry men with guns looking for him. The mission was supposed to be an easy one, but then James met his target’s gorgeous wife and things got out of hand – and not to mention clothes – really fast and the man was now more interested in gunning him down than trading weapons. And really, that should count as a completed mission, James thought as he hid behind the crates and prayed that Q answered his phone before he ended up being the perfect test subject.
After what seemed an eternity, Q finally picked up. But instead of Q’s usual bored voice asking what he had done this time and why he was using his phone instead of his earwig, James was greeted by a moan – a very interesting moan, one that definitely rivalled the high-pitched squeal of the mobster’s wife.
“Bond,” Q whimpered and James actually shivered, “Bond, if you don’t ah,” he gasped and James licked his lips, “start talking this instant, I am shipping you off to Timbuktu!” He finished in a shaky voice and James barely managed to dodge a bullet.
“Am I interrupting something?” He had to ask because in his mind, Q was his thin and witty Quartermaster slash sort-of-friend who typed the day away and scolded him in a posh voice for not returning himself and his equipment in pristine condition. Not someone who made sex sounds.
“Oh God, yes!” A bit too excited and too pleased to be an answer to his question and frankly, James was starting to feel insulted – and his pants started to feel a bit tight, but he did have to swim to reach the warehouse.
“I would apologize, but—“
“No, no, keep going.” Q was almost begging and, although it was clear that he wasn’t talking to him, James couldn’t help but pretend that he was.
“Well, I was about to explain why I called before you so rudely interrupted me.” A bullet whizzed by him and James put the phone away long enough to take down his attacker. Not that Q noticed if the moans and groans were any clue.
He should just end the conversation and deal with this on his own especially now that he had a gun – silencer included, how very nice of them – but James felt like he was being hypnotized by those interesting sounds he never imagined coming from Q. Then again, he never though he would hear Q say please and not be sarcastic about it and yet he was now hearing it over and over again and he was happy that he would have to cross through really cold water to get away from this place without being detected.
“Bond, Bond, are you still there?” Q chanting his name like that did even more things to him and Bond’s eyes fluttered close for a second before he remembered where he was and that it would be a very dumb and possible fatal thing to do.
“Yes,” he whispered and Q let out a whimper. “I really need you,” he took a deep breath and Q gasped, “help me with…” he trailed off when he heard how Q started to mewl.
Clearly Q was in no condition to help him with anything. And, seeing that he had just dodged another bullet, it was clear that the henchmen he was dealing with had the worst aim in history and now that they were separated, James could take them down one by one. Perhaps their boss should spend less on jewels for his wife and more on training them.
He was just about to close the phone to give him his privacy when he heard someone ask him in the rudest way possible who he was talking to. “I think I was imagining it, darling.” James suddenly decided that he liked that word very much, especially when Q rolled the ‘r’ in such a way just after breathing out the ‘a’.
“Who’s this Bond?” Q’s partner growled and James put a bit too much hate behind the punch that knocked out yet another henchman. “I don’t want you thinking about someone else,” Q gasped again, but this time it did not sound like he liked what was happening, “especially when you are in bed with me.”
Q clicked his tongue and the sheets rustled. “If you tug on my hair like that ever again,” this was the voice Q used when he was really angry and all traces of need disappeared from it, “I will break your arm.” The gasp James heard in his ear this time was a painful one and it did not come from Q. “Do you understand? Good, now get out. You managed to ruin the mood.”
James quickly closed the phone and shivered, grinning. Who knew his Quartermaster was such a sexual being? And he was happy to hear that he could hold his own, although he was still going to track Q’s partner down and tug his hair right out off his head – his way of apologizing to Q for listening in on his intimate moment.
It took him less than ten minutes to deal with the other men that were after him and he spent the following twenty minutes trying to find a way out of the warehouse. He was about to track down one of the henchmen and break a few of his bones to get him to draw a map when his phone rang and he was surprised to see that it was Q.
“Quartermaster of my life, the man whose nerves I step on constantly and who I manage to irritate by simply existing near him,” was how James greeted him, leaning against a wall and smiled at nothing in particular.
“Very funny, Bond. Since I am not hearing animal noises or gunshots, I am assuming that you are free to talk?” Q sounded beyond irritated and James understood why. Blue balls were the things you didn’t wish on even your worst enemy and Q certainly didn’t deserve them – then again, he deserved someone who was so good, he wouldn’t even notice his phone ringing.
“I am a bit like Theseus in the labyrinth, only without a Minotaur and without a golden threat to follow.”
Q hummed and James heard the clacking of a keyboard. “I see that your tracker is still fully functional. Since I only got static from your earwig when I tried contacting you two minutes ago, I take it that it wasn’t as lucky?”
James chuckled, shrugging his shoulders even though Q couldn’t see him. “I didn’t drop it in a glass of champagne this time, I promise.”
“I am so shocked to hear that, Bond,” Q said dryly. “Take a left turn then another and then make a right.”
Now that Q was in his ear, guiding him as he always did, it didn’t take long for James to reach the exit. “As usual, you are my Ariadne.”
Q started to laugh. “Good, at least I know that you’ll abandon me on the first island you see.”
“I didn’t mean it like—”
“Bond, did you call me earlier?” Q finally cut to the chase and if he were any other man, James would have gulped and started to sweat at how serious he sounded.
But he was James Bond, agent extraordinaire, the man whose silver tongue could trick the Devil himself and if he was feeling a bit hot under the collar, it was only because he was suddenly hearing Q’s earlier moans, whimpers and groans. “I did hear some rambling from my back pocket while I was strangling someone, so I might have by accident.”
“Well, your butt dialling cost me a booty call, so be more careful next time.” James chocked on air. He really hadn’t expected Q to be so frank, but the young man did have that habit. It was as if he wasn’t working with spies and he didn’t know how to hint at things – or maybe he was so honest because he worked with spies and he was beyond done with secrecy when he knew for sure that it was safe to be honest.
“I will keep that in mind, Quartermaster,” James said slowly, more than happy to jump in the cold water.
“Bond, there was a bridge just twenty meters to your left,” Q said slightly annoyed. “Is that how you destroyed yet another earwig?”
Swimming while trying to keep a phone dry proved to be quite a challenge. “In my defence, it’s so dark right now, that I can barely see what’s in front of me.”
“There’s a full moon and before you blame the clouds, I have checked the weather report and the sky is crystal clear.” Q carried on scolding him for a good half an hour, only stopping because James was running out of battery. But he promised that they would continue their little conversation as soon as he returned to MI6.
And that pleased James, which was a surprise. He made sure to get Q a nice little gift – a tea service set and a lot of tea that advertised they had a calming effect on people – as well as put himself in the atrocious task of retracing his steps and trying to recover every little bit of his equipment and put it in individual bags, a task he managed to finish with just fifteen minutes before he had to be at the airport.
Just in time, he would say, but he was sure Q was going to give him an earful for cutting it so short.
Except, he didn’t. When James got to the Q Branch, smile in place, bags held in front of him in a defensive manner, Q was just signing out. And he looked well-rested – for which James was happy because it was a rarity – he was freshly shaved – he had used an electrical razor – and James caught a peek of a really nice suit under his long coat and red scarf – which somehow managed to bring out his eyes.
“Early night, Quartermaster?” James asked as he stopped right next to him, managing to startle him.
Q ran a hand down the front of his coat and smiled. “Something I so rarely get to enjoy because of a certain someone.”
James tilted his head and nodded, holding the bags closer to Q’s face. “I got you something.”
“Remnants of my hard work and,” he peeked in the second back, frowning, “teas to keep me from having a meltdown? How kind of you, Bond.” He looked like he wanted to shove them down his throat so James made a mental note to never buy him that ever again.
“Shall I help you out of your coat?”
Q snorted. “No, you’ll leave everything with R and then go talk with M. I do plan on fully enjoying my night, if you know what I mean.”
“With the man who pulled your hair?” James asked before he could stop himself, realizing his mistake only when he saw the storm that was brewing in Q’s eyes.
“So you butt dialled me, hm?” He narrowed his eyes and placed his hands on his hips, leaning closer to James while the security guard was suddenly needed in the room in the back. James really wanted to join him, since Q looked like he was really close to grabbing a wrench and bludgeoning him to death.
“I do have incredible hearing due to my double oh status, you know,” James offered and actually took a step back, surprised when Q grabbed his arm, eye twitching.
“Listen carefully, Superman,” James chose to take that as a compliment despite the fact that the word was spat. “If you dare to call me tonight and ruin my chances with this new guy,” at least Q was smart enough not to give that loser a second chance, “I will end you. Do you understand?”
“Yes, but what if the world is ending and you and I are the only ones who could stop it?” James challenged him and Q groaned, releasing him to check his watch.
“Fine; if you see any of the Four Horseman galloping around, feel free to call me.” He leaned over the security desk and grabbed the biometric pad to sign out with his thumbprint. “And if it turns out that they were nothing but jockeys and you were drunk off your ass in front of your TV…” He trailed off, but the ‘I will end you’ part was easy to read.
James nodded and Q smiled sweetly at him, walking away with a skin in his step. And it only dawned on James just then that he might want to be the reason why Q was so eager to leave work.
Chapter 2: James is just a tiny bit better than Bill
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Please excuse any and all mistakes and enjoy~
The second time he did it, he was supposed to hack something and get out some data. A simple mission, nothing too complicated and the woman he had romanced had been more than happy for that to happen because she wanted to get back at her husband. She knew who he was and what he did because he had slept with one of her friends last year and ever since she had heard the woman’s story, she dreamt of the day he’d visit her sheets.
“Don’t take this as a complaint on my part because you are a very lovely sight for sore eyes and more than wonderful in bed, but why not divorce him?” He had asked while he pulled his pants up.
She lit a cigarette and blew smoke in his direction, smiling sadly. “Ironclad prenuptial contract, I am afraid. And he ignored me for such a long time that I couldn’t help but notice our many chauffeurs, gardeners, yoga instructors, and so on.” She took off her wedding ring and threw it across the room. “If I get nothing it might as well be because he has nothing.”
Once he was done dressing she tugged on his tie, gave him a lingering kiss and slipped her future ex-husband’s keycard in his pocket, pinched his ass and sent him on his way, promising to distract the man as much as she could.
But despite the lack of guards to shoot at him or anyone to give him an over the top speech, he was still unable to finish the mission without some extra help because the computer password seemed to change every ten minutes and the little device R had equipped him with was completely useless.
The phone rang three times before someone answered and James waited patiently to hear his Quartermaster’s voice before he said anything.
“—up to my ear and keep still,” Q dictated instructions to someone, sighing. “Bond, what a complete displeasure to see your name on my phone’s display,” he said sweetly, James hearing the forced smile in his voice tone. “A moment of silence for the newest earwig you destroyed,” Q hummed a little tune and James started to tap his foot, checking his watch.
Amusing as Q could be, he wasn’t sure how much time the woman had managed to buy him or how much time Q would need to get passed the password. “Can you be dramatic when we’re face to face? I hate to miss those lovely faces you make when you scold me almost as much as I hate getting shot at.”
“I don’t know, Bond, can you be responsible for once in your life and not cost me five thousand pounds per earwig?” James heard something clang just next to the speaker followed by a long sting for curses from Q. “Just put the phone on speaker and go find the bloody keys.”
“Q, are you okay?” James asked slowly, already getting an idea of what was actually happening.
“Suffering from a horrible case of blue balls and currently cuffed to my bed, but otherwise fine, thank you for asking,” he grumbled and tugged on the cuffs to make them clang again.
Something stirred just below James’ belt at the image of a tied up Q, shivering in anticipation and need. He was sure that the way he had heard Q plead the last time would have been nothing compared to how he would have begged him for that sweet release, his name passing through those lips that had just now started to notice how truly enticing they were in an almost ritualistic chant.
“Are you still there, or did you call me just to ruin my night yet again?” Q’s annoyed voice snapped him from his daydreaming.
He cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. “I promise to apologize for this in person. Should we have this conversation if someone else is present there? I can wait for you to show him out before continuing.” Not really, but for some strange reason he was willing to risk a bullet if he got to hear a certain front door slam shut.
Q clicked his tongue and James knew he was in trouble. “Funny how a moment ago you didn’t have time for my dramatics, but now you have time to listen to me end up single for the night.” The cuffs clung again, Q probably trying to change his position. “But since now you magically do, one, I will not be holding my breath to hear you actually apologizing. And two, he’s MI5which means that he is safe and you have worked with him in the past,” someone stumble through a really awkward greeting.
“Just uncuff my Quartermaster already,” he growled, squeezing the phone tighter because he thought he might remember Q’s bed partner and that man was not worthy to be in his presence, let alone in his bed. “You put on a suit for your first date with him?”
“Not that it is any of your business, but yes.” The bed squeaked, Q sighed in relief and a computer beeped. “Now I am fully at your disposal, Bond. Tell me what you need.”
James explained as best he could, typed what Q told him and when that didn’t work, he ended their normal phone conversation – if it could be considered that –and started a video conference with the young genius.
He regretted doing that and at the same time he didn’t. When Q answered, James was blessed with an image of his Quartermaster’s bare chest and bed hair, a bed sheet wrapped just above his belly button. When Q arranged his glasses, James noticed the angry shade of red they were and he wanted to lean forward and plant kisses on them until they healed.
“Are you done staring?” Q pushed his face closer to the camera and a man appeared and draped a bathrobe over the bare shoulders.
James closed his eyes and gave a short nod. “And I would also like to be done with this mission, if it is possible.”
“Well, turn the camera phone around so we can both carry on with our night.”
If James made a few mistakes in typing what Q told him, they really weren’t on purpose even if they seemed like they were and if he started to move faster after he heard Q’s would-be partner excuse himself, that was only because he could finally stop thinking of the many ways in which he could break the man’s penis off.
MI6 had the data in less than ten minutes after that and Q grumpily signed off, leaving James to deal with the security guards that had been informed by their boss that he wasn’t in the office – James didn’t kill any of them because they were just doing their jobs, but he did use more strength than was necessary to take them out.
This time, when he returned to headquarters, Q was behind his workstation, dressed in one of his usual eccentric ensemble. He appeared to be completely unaware of the world around him, tip of tongue peeking out at the corner of his mouth, frown etched on his forehead, but the second James stepped into his office, he looked up right at him.
“When I am not on duty,” Q started, pushing his glasses up his nose, “you are supposed to work with...” He trailed off when James walked up to him and carefully lifted one of his arms, pulling back his sleeve. “What are you doing?”
James frowned when he saw that Q still had marks on his wrists and put the gift bag he had with him on the table, pulling out a lotion bottle. “That idiot put the cuffs too tightly on you last night and caused actual damage. And by the marks, I can also tell that they were actual cuffs and not special ones.”
They were both silent as James gently started to rub the lotion in, Q giving him his other arm without being prompted. His skin was much softer that James had thought it to be, like a cross between expensive velvet and the best silk in the world. It really tempted James to ask Q never to wear gloves when he had to play doctor with him – not that kind of doctor, although Q might not be fully adverse at that idea – but he understood that he wanted to keep the risk of infection to a minimum.
After he was done, he brought his lips to Q’s wrists and placed a little kiss on each of them, the young man watching with mild interest and a raised eyebrow. “You should use this lotion until the bruises go away,” James instructed, taking a step back. “And I would advise you to buy special cuffs and get another bed partner to avoid this in the future.”
Q snorted, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. “I take it this is your way of apologizing for bothering me yet again?” James shrugged, avoiding looking at him. “Well, a lotion that will get some usage later and an advice to dump my already ex-partner are better than nothing, I suppose.”
James – after needing a second to get over the image of Q touching himself – perked up at that last bit of information, Q glaring at him. It wasn’t that he didn’t want him to have a relationship with anyone, but just not with the guy from last night; or with the first one. They weren’t right for him because they didn’t know how to care for Q. Honestly, who tugs on someone’s hair if they are not allowed? And who uses actual handcuffs instead of special ones? No, no, those two were perfectly wrong.
He, on the other hand, would be better. By no means the perfect man and it was now becoming obvious that Q could have anyone he wanted – not because he was wild in bed, though that did help greatly, but because he had the brains and the looks – without too much of an effort, but far superior to those two pieces trash.
“Could you stop looking like the cat that caught the cannery?” Q asked, pulling away from James. “You don’t see me relish in your failure to score.”
Clearing his throat, but not bothering to stop grinning, James dug through the bag and held out a hard drive. “You seemed to be very interested in the program the man had used to protect his files, so I thought you might like this more than tea.”
Q had sounded very excited when the first command he had dictated to James from memory had failed to do what it was supposed to do. He had praised the man for managing to get something that gave him a little bit of trouble and moaned the fact that James had no way copying it and bringing it to him. Except James decided that he could bring it to Q, even if he had to dismantle the computer to do so.
MI6 was going to instantly use the data and take down the man before he could provide their actual enemies with more weapons, so it wouldn’t matter if a part of the computer was missing. For that matter, he didn’t quite understand why they didn’t simply tell him to take out the hard drive in the first place since James had to meet up with an intermediary boffin to check the data to be sure that it wasn’t corrupted or infected with anything serious before he forwarded it to Q branch to be used.
“M is going to have your head if he finds out about this,” Q said, fingers twitching as he slowly reached out for it. “He wanted to make it look like the man had a leak from the inside,” he continued to explain as he brushed his hand against the drive in an almost sexual way.
Well, that made sense. But they can still claim that the traitor simply sucked at decrypting the program so he decided to simply steal the device the information was stored on. “M will get over it; he always does.”
He let Q take the hard drive and started to follow him around the office, listening to the man rant in pure ecstasy – a different kind of ecstasy from the sexual one – at the many wonderful things he could do if he improved the program a little and crossed it with what he had created to protect MI6’s servers.
“My servers,” MI6 servers, James wanted to correct, but kept his trap shut, “are going to be like a data Alcatraz! Nothing that I don’t want to get out gets out and no one who isn’t supposed to be in them gets in,” Q declared as he held the hard drive up, a huge grin on his face and James was really expecting some lightning flashing in the background to accompany the whole performance.
James moved closer to Q, lips almost touching his ear. “So, am I forgiven for ruining your night?” He whispered, getting ready to rest a hand on his shoulder and lean against him slightly.
“Yes, yes, but just this one time.” He moved just as James stated to tip forward, causing the man to stumble and almost fall on his face. “But don’t make a habit—“
“Out of stealing evidence, yes just what I was planning on telling him,” M’s voice came from the doorway and Q yelped and shoved the hard drive under his cardigan. “Quartermaster,” M said slowly as Q better hid himself behind James. “Q, you know you can’t keep that.”
“Not for good,” Q mumbled. “Just long enough to clone it so I can have my way with the programs on it.”
M pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. “One hour; no more, no less, understand?”
Q grinned and ran to his desk, quickly pulling the hard disk out and connecting it to one of the many computers that were around him. “It’s not connected to the internet or to the MI6 servers, so we are safe,” Q explained more to James than to M. “Not that I didn’t improve the firewalls from the Silva incident, but better safe than sorry.”
“I trust you fully, Quartermaster,” M assured him. “I will send Eve after the hard disk when the time is up, understand?” Q nodded, but neither man was sure that he actually knew to what he was nodding.
M watched Q for about five minutes before he was called away, but James refused to budge from the Quartermaster’s side. He didn’t understand a thing the man was doing, but guessed things were going his way by the smile on his lips that grew larger by the minute.
He hadn’t realized when the forty minutes passed and he reached for his weapon when the door suddenly opened, relaxing when he realized that it was only Eve. The woman rolled her eyes and completely ignored him, walking up to Q with a steaming mug of tea and waving it right under his nose to get the man’s attention.
Q sniffed the air for a moment before returning to the world around him and James took note of the little trick. “It’s all yours, Eve, and please send R in on your way out,” Q muttered, blowing into the cup. “Since Bond put another nail in the coffin that my sex life is resting in, I might as well spend this night being productive.”
Eve turned to look at James, eyebrow raised. “Again?” Q hummed, taking a long sip from his tea. “MI5’s Steve?”
“His name wasn’t Steve,” Q mumbled and James sighed in relief because that was the most ridiculous name to be associated with a— “It was Bill.” He stood corrected. Well, no wonder he had a hard time actually remembering anything about the man besides how much harder that one mission ended up being because of him – and yet the man had Q naked and cuffed to a bed.
The universe really wasn’t fair. And his name was more ‘moan-able’ than Bill. Bill sounded like an interrupted hiccup and if you held on a letter long enough, like a bloody foghorn about to die.
Chapter 3: Hell hath no fury like an interrupted Q
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The third time it happened, James started to suspect that the fates and gods of all the religions in the world had teamed up just to prank him while Q was sure that he was doing it on purpose. But he honestly wasn’t; he just happened to somehow get in trouble just as the young man was getting ready to enjoy life.
This time James had found himself the middle of nowhere Nevada, his earwig had been knocked out when they hit his head against the helicopter’s door and his gun was probably on top of a cactus because it had been kicked out of his hands by the would-be ‘Oil King’ while the man’s pilot was making all sorts of twists, turns and flips in the air, hoping to get the double oh agent to drop out of the helicopter.
He had tried to radio in for help, of course, but he got nothing but static from the radio. The bullet hole right in the middle of it might have had something to do with why it wasn’t working. At least he had Q’s personal phone number memorized and the pilot’s phone was still intact – unlike the pilot himself, who was crying about his broken limbs.
When Q picked up, James heard loud music in the background and he groaned internally while Q outright growled at him. “The second my fly gets pulled down, you call. Do you have this weird sort of sixth sense that tells you when I am about to have sex? Because it seems you made a habit out of it and I am anything but happy right now.”
“I have no idea how this keeps happening—”
“You keep losing your bloody earwigs and you don’t know anyone else’s phone number, that’s how it keeps happening,” Q interrupted, slamming a door shut behind him which muffled greatly the noise. “I don’t have my laptop with me, so what I can do for you is limited right now.”
“Then we’re both lucky because all I need is someone to come pick me and my two prisoners from the middle of the Nevada desert,” he said with pride in his voice because technically, the mission did not go tits up. “So if you could call someone from the CIA or FBI to pick us up, I’d owe you one.”
Q was silent and the only reason why James wasn’t checking his phone to see if its battery had died or if the conversation had been ended was because he could still hear the muffled music in the background. So he waited patiently because he was more than sure that Q was fuming, probably trying to pinch the bridge of his nose with his glasses still on his face or looking for a clean enough wall to bang his head against – the music he was hearing made the club sound sleazy and whoever had taken his Quartermaster there deserved a special visit from him because how dare he insult Q like that?
He heard Q let out a long sigh and he braced himself. “You called me because you are stuck in the middle of the desert?” He said dangerously calm. “You took out your phone which somehow has great reception despite mine losing coverage the second I move from my kitchen to the bathroom and you called me instead of pushing just three buttons? And those buttons were 9 1 1, just to get this out of the way, agent.”
Oh right, he could have called the cops and then ask to speak with the CIA agent that he was working with on this case. “Quartermaster,” he said as nicely and as sweetly as he could, hoping to calm Q down. “The fact that you are the first person to pop in my head when I need help should mean something, right?”
“All it means is that you consider me to be your bloody doormat, you rotten man,” Q snapped at him and James winched. “I will not call anyone to pick you up some I am not a taxi dispatcher. Your phone words, I gave you the right phone number, do the math and don’t you dare call me for something as trivial as this again on my time off!”
Q closed the phone before James could start apologizing and his captives had forgotten that they were in pain not five minutes ago and were rolling around in sand, laughing. “Are you having trouble with the missus, agent?” His target asked and James felt no pity as he kicked him hard enough in his arm to break it.
“Not as much trouble as you’ll have with the police, your associates, and your bones,” he snarled, sitting down on the man as he called the police.
At least as angry as Q was with him, he hadn’t rendered his phone useless and although the man had said he wouldn’t do anything to help him, the instant the dispatcher heard James’ name, she put him through to the CIA. They were in a new chopper on their way to a hospital in under thirty minutes. But in the hospital was where Q’s revenge started.
For whatever reason, James was suddenly under the suspicion of somehow managing to contact the plague. The nurse who collected his blood sample had been anything but nice and she must have been a newbie because she managed to break a blood vessel. The one who came to collect mucus from him was also rather brutal and the same nurse insisted that she needed to collect lymph fluid from the inguinal area.
It had hurt like hell and for a few minutes, James thought the woman would accidentally castrate him with a needle. But at least the tests came back negative and he was free to go the following day.
When he reached the airport, he was detained under suspicion of drug trafficking. Just as he was about to be thoroughly searched, someone – Q – had called and James was sent away with an apology.
It was then James tried to call Q and apologize again, only to find out that the number he was trying to dial no longer existed. He called his CIA contact and asked him to forward him the number to someone in MI6 – he was laughed at for a good five minutes, but the man had complied – and when he reached Eve and asked the woman to get Q in her office so he could speak to him, the woman hanged up on him.
He wasn’t surprised when the pretty blonde woman with a decent amount of cleavage from behind the counter apologized for the apparent ticket mix up. Of course Q wouldn’t allow him to fly first class back to London after what he’d done. Nor was he surprised when his card was rejected – but it was only rejected when he tried to buy new plane tickets and not when he bought food, water or checked in the cheap motel right next to the airport.
When he woke up the following day and the bored man behind the dirty and termite eaten counter at the hotel informed him that he had plane tickets waiting for him, he really thought that Q’s anger had been extinguished.
Oh, how wrong he had been. With the plane tickets he was given, it took him three days to get back home and he had been stuck in the cattle class with horrible food, annoyed flight attendants, people who apparently had no idea what a soap was, screaming babies, and rednecks who had something against the British because ‘tea’. And even after all of that, Q still wasn’t done with him.
He tried to speed to MI6, but he constantly caught a red light and police officers stopped him every other major intersection. His plane had landed at four in the morning and by the time he got to headquarters, it was close to midday.
Eve greeted him with a smile and a glass of cold water which he quickly drowned down before storming over to Q’s branch. Not one minion was bothered by his presence there and they all carried on with their duties as if there wasn’t an angry assassin with a licence to kill right there with them – not that he was there to really harm or kill anyone, but it did nothing for his already bruised ego that the mice thought him a harmless kitten.
Q didn’t even look up from his computer screen when James opened the door to his office with a bit too much force, probably too busy to completely and utterly destroy the man’s credit score.
“I really don’t do it on purpose, you know,” James said the second the door closed by itself behind him. “It just happens.” He threw his bags right against Q’s desk and fell on the small sofa Q had in his office, sighing as he started to massage his temples. “The plague, Q? Drug trafficking?”
“I stopped them before they gave you a body cavity search,” Q muttered. “And you never can be too sure about the plague. I was reading an article two weeks ago about—”
“I couldn’t care less if you paid me right now, Q,” James snapped, pushing himself up to openly glare at Q. “And why did you change your phone number? What if something bad had happened? I had no way of contacting MI6.”
At least that got Q to look at him and the world really hated him because James’s eyes landed on the huge hickey he had on his neck and his headache became ten times worse. It wasn’t fresh, so at least Q hadn’t been fooling around while he suffered, not that it was any of his business – it wasn’t even a matter of principle; he was just jealous of the person who was in Q’s favour while he was on top of his black list.
“I had my eyes on you the entire time, Bond.” James shivered when he heard that and he must have been obvious because Q threw a pen at him. “Not in my office or on my sofa! I should have left them give you a free prostate check.”
Throwing Q’s pen back at him – careful to miss the young man, of course – James turned with his back at him, closing his eyes. “I got you tea and this time you won’t be able to make it into an insult because I know it’s the same brand as the one Eve got you.” He had come close to bribing the woman with an island to get that information. “Although, judging by the mark on your neck, I should have brought you a stake.”
“Well, it was the only thing he got to suck that night. I am pretty sure you owe me one hell of a blowjob,” Q muttered, unzipping James’ bags. “I hope you don’t expect me to pack everything the way it was, because I am not doing that.”
On top of wanting to offer to pay Q back that instant and offer him even more, he also wanted to tell him that he had also gotten him a silly little trinket from Las Vegas, but he was distracted by how soft the sofa was. If only it would have been longer so he could stretch his legs. But it was way better than the chairs and beds he had slept in these past few days.
Of course, it had nothing on his bed and now that he thought about it, he really should get home. If he still had a home. Q wouldn’t do that, would he? He snapped his eyes open and sat up right suddenly, the world spinning around him for a second.
“You wouldn’t sell my apartment just because I…” He trailed off when he realized that Q wasn’t in his office and that all his computers and laptops were turned off. When he turned his head to look out the window, he saw that it was pitch black outside and he realized that the little light in the room came from a small lamp on Q’s desk.
There was also a soft and warm blanket haphazardly thrown over him and someone had taken his shoes, jacket and tie off. He took his time making himself look like he hadn’t slept god knows how long on a sofa in his Quartermaster’s office, surprised to find a little note with a phone number next to his cell.
Last time I give you my personal number, Bond. And you snore loud enough to wake the dead. I don’t know how the people you sleep next to you can get any rest – Q
The temptation to send Q a text message in which he invited him to see for himself how it was to sleep in the same bed with him was great, but he didn’t want to anger him again. Plus, that sort of invitation worked best if it was done face to face, preferably over a bottle of red wine and a perfectly done steak.
He checked his luggage to see if Q had caught on to the fact that the old laptop stuffed between his suits was for him and saw that the man had took nothing but the tea – leaving behind another note in which he informed him that he wouldn’t be as kind to him as he was now the next time he mixes him up with a taxi service.
“I think he’ll have this written in my bloody tombstone,” he mumbled under his breath, carefully putting the laptop on the desk.
He didn’t leave behind a note; Q was smart, he’d know what it was and what it meant when he found it on his desk. He turned off the lamp, grabbed his luggage and then quietly left Q’s office, surprised to find that someone had reserved an MI6 driver and car to take him home.
“The Quartermaster said that this is a one-time only thing,” his driver said, looking very confused. “Does that make any sense to you?”
“Sadly, it does.”
Chapter 4: Good timing for him meant bad timing for Q
<3 Thank you so much for the kudos and kind words (and omg, one of my favourite artists likes this story, yaay)
“This isn’t happening,” Q breathed into the phone and James instantly knew what the man was doing. “Fourth time in ah…” Of course he’d trail off just to let out a long moan that got muffled by someone kissing him.
He was wishing too much for Q to just be pleasuring himself. But at least he wasn’t hearing any repetitive music, boring names or hair being tugged when it wasn’t supposed to be. “I have no words, Q. You have more of a sex life than I do.”
Q hissed, then someone grumbled and then a door was slammed. “Do I really, Bond?” Q asked, sounding tired more than angry and James decided that he felt better being afraid of satellites being dropped down from the sky on top of his head than hearing Q like this. “The laptop is on; tell me what you want from me.”
It would be easier to tell him what he didn’t want from him. But Q was asking him mission-wise. “Long story short, I caught the man, but he still managed to activate the weapon and point it at London. The computer specialist that was working with him out of his own free will is indisposed for good by his own hand and your branch is working to bypass the computer’s security to turn it off. However…”
“It would be faster for me to borrow a satellite from the Americans and destroy the weapon,” Q finished for him and hummed. “I have the weapon’s coordinates and I know just the satellite to use to do that, but I need five minutes. Is that enough?”
“The countdown has reached seven minutes, so you have more than enough. Should I tell your minions to stop what they are doing?”
Q’s fingers were already hitting the keys to whatever he was working on, the man humming a little song without realizing that James was sure it will get stuck in his head. “Just have them copy every file the computer has on the tertiary servers to see if there’s anything we can use to bribe the CIA for what I am doing right now and then delete everything.”
James remained quiet for the next five minutes to be sure that he wouldn’t distract Q from what he was doing, ending up stuffing his tie in his captive’s mouth because he got sick of hearing the man mocking him and telling him that his boffin wouldn’t be able to finish in time.
“I’m tired of you people underestimating my Quartermaster,” he growled. “Then again, maybe that’s for the best because you always make things so much easier for him.”
“It would have been child’s play if I had enough time, but as things are now, he did a decent job at protecting his programs,” Q chimed in. “Or rather the men he hired did a decent job. I recognize the handiwork; do you think you can let me have a little talk with them before they get sent to jail?”
James thought back to the bodies he had found in the cell right next to him and made a little noise in his throat. Three young men that were just a little bit younger than Q had been when he started working for MI6, bullet holes in their heads. At least their deaths had been quick, but he still cringed at the thought that if Boothroyd hadn’t found Q when he did, he might have been looking at his lifeless body.
He felt sick. “I am sorry, Quartermaster,” he started slowly. “I am afraid that they didn’t work for him out of their own free will and…” he trailed off, not able to inform Q of their executions out loud.
“Ah, I understand.” Q took a breath that sounded slightly shaky to James. “We had worked on a few projects together before MI6 picked me up.”
This conversation was not helping James’ suddenly hyperactive imagination and he kept seeing Q dead in various and painful ways. He needed to change the subject before he put a few bullets through the man’s skull just to be sure that he would never get to Q. “Did you like him?” He asked suddenly.
“Did I like who?” Q asked, sounding confused.
“The man you just were with. Did you like him?” James clarified, sounding a bit creepy even to himself when he heard the words spoken out loud.
“Not that it is any of your business, but yes I did. Why else would I have been on dates with him and about to sleep with him? I may have a big itch because of your horrible timing—”
“Horrible, but not on purpose,” James insisted on clarifying.
Q sighed, James easily imagining him rolling his eyes. “But I don’t use people. I am actually trying to find someone with whom I can have a decent relationship even though I will not be able to be 100% honest with him due to my job. Even Bill from MI5 didn’t have enough clearance for me to have a full conversation about how my day went. Though he was great in bed,” Q said wistfully and James felt offended.
The words came out before his brain had enough time to process them. “If you want to see someone who is great in bed, give me a try.”
Q was silent for only a second before he started to laugh, but in that second James felt for the first time in many years embarrassment. “Tempting as that sounds, I am afraid that you will have to pour a bucket of ice down your pants,” Q wheezed out. “Or better yet, get over here so I can do that.”
He said that it sounded tempting, so that meant that he was interested which was great news as well as an invitation to push forward. “Quartermaster, if you wanted to take a peek at what I have in my pants, all you had to do is ask. I’ll even do a little dance for you and then make you make sounds like you never did in your entire life.” His prisoner rolled his eyes and grumbled something, James crouching down next to him to make sure he wasn’t about to spit out the makeshift gag.
“Your suits are so tight that they leave nothing to the imagination. And let me tell you that I am not surprised at how fast you are to ditch your clothing. It can’t be all that pleasant to have your,” Q stopped and snickered, “package constricted even if it is by the finest material in the universe.”
If James leaned against the desk and grinned like a teenager boy about to have phone sex with his crush it was only because he actually felt like that. “But you, my little coquet, leave everything to the imagination since you insist on wearing those horrible lose suits that can only look good on the floor in my bedroom. Or anywhere on the floor, as long as we’re both naked right next to them.”
Q laughed again and James realized he was addicted to the sound. “I cannot believe you actually used that line. I think I should start listening in on your honeypot missions to see if the lines you use on those poor women are as horrible as this one. Throughout mankind’s history, did that line ever work?”
“Well, why don’t you and I make that line work?”
He was expecting Q to take him up on his offer in a heartbeat. It was clear that there was something there and if they both just needed to take each other out of their systems, it was perfect. If Q just wanted to use him, then James was ready to rip off his most expensive suit and jump on the closest surface with the man in his arms and be his own private sex toy. But the long silence was worrisome. Silence was never a harbinger of good news.
Not a good start. “Call me James, Q,” he interrupted him, straightening. “Hot as it was to hear you moan my family name, I’d rather hear you scream my first name to the skies.”
“007,” Q said coldly and James was sure he could describe perfectly how it felt to be hit in the head by a piece of the sky. “I do apologize for allowing this to go this far and I mean no insult when I tell you that we’re not going to sleep together. Ever.” The professional voice tone Q used made all the slaps, kicks, and punches James got in the past feel like getting hit with a fluffy pillow.
“I know that my next question will only further cement M’s view of me as a misogynistic bastard, but might I know why?” James asked, trying his best not to sound like a five-year old brat who had just been denied the world’s best dessert or kick his captive’s teeth in because he was clearly laughing at him.
James’ backup arrived just as Q sighed. “I think it’s clear by now that I have absolutely nothing against one night stands,” and because of that, James couldn’t help but wonder how many desperate people were out there, hoping to bump into Q again so they could sweep him off his feet, “and you are very attractive and I thought about you while pleasuring myself on more than one occasion.”
He was really starting to hate tight suits. “Then why not make those fantasies a reality? I could be a simple one night stand, if you want. But I warn you that a very close friend of mine can get me the best housing at the North Pole and you know how long the night is there.”
“I am sorry Bond, but we work together and I don’t things to become even more awkward between us. Plus, I don’t want to get attached and make mistakes when you get your fine, but stupid, arse in trouble.”
He was about to assure Q that he wouldn't get attached, but that would be like promising someone they were going to be treated like garbage. And James would never be able to treat Q any different from royalty – well, ignoring the part where he couldn’t bring back a gadget in one piece unless Q’s life depended on it and the part where he made his life hard by asking him to go out of his way to help him complete some of his missions; but generally like he was an actual king.
Quitting MI6 was also out of the question since he did that almost constantly and he didn’t want to trick Q into sleeping with him. Seduce him and make him never want to leave his bed, yes. Trick him, no. “Can we talk face to face about this, Q? This really isn’t the type of conversation that should be had over the phone.”
“I am going to have to say no again, Bond. I think we need some time apart and I am also leaving tomorrow on a mission with 009.” Bloody 009 and his bloody mission! Can’t he have R assist him? The man was clearly interested in the woman! Why not let the two of them hook up so the two of them could hook up?
“Are you coming back before my next mission?” He asked quietly, Q typing something on his keyboard even before he finished the question.
“Not even if the mission goes without a hitch. But don’t worry,” Q added hurriedly, bed sheets rustling. “I assigned R and a four other minions that you’ve worked with in the past without threatening to break their legs or all those other nasty things that ended with you getting a new psych evaluation.”
He was more worried that 009’s mission would go tits up and Q ended up hurt. But in all honesty there were more chances of that happening when Q physically assisted him in the field than with 009. The man treated the Quartermaster as if he were made out of glass and as much as it hurt James’ ego to admit this even to himself, 009 was better at being subtly than him.
“Can you give me a sign that you’re back in one piece? I’ll be able to concentrate better if I know that and this time, you might actually get all of your equipment back in one piece.” He always felt the need to try and bribe Q with something and it was now starting to become clear why.
“You know, that somehow sounds even worse than the lame pickup line you used earlier.” At least he chuckled. “But I will tell you just to be sure that you don’t come back looking more like Swiss cheese than an actual human being.”
The proper authorities alongside James’ supposed CIA and KGB partners finally showed up and he pointed to where the incapacitated would-be mass murdered was before turning with his back to them to have privacy for one last minute.
“I’ll throw in one extra promise—”
“Which I am so sure that you’ll keep, given your excellent track record with them so far,” Q chimed in and James shrugged off whoever was trying to get his attention.
“I’ll actually come up with pickup lines that you won’t consider lame.”
Q laughed so hard that he fell out of his bed.
Chapter 5: A new meaning to sad pickup lines
Thank you so much for the kudos and comments <3 They warm my little black heart. And speaking of little black hearts, ANGST warning for this chapter.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
He didn’t remember breathing or moving being this hard, but then again he had at least three bullets lodged in his body. Well, the evil plan of the month had been thwarted and the crazy psychopath du jour was lying in a puddle of blood not too far from where he was getting ready to give out his last breath.
This was exactly the way he imagined he’d go, alone in a half-destroyed building, surrounded by dead bodies, the world safe for at least one more day and there had been a time when he hoped for this heroic death to happen. Now, of course, he was older and actually had a fully functional brain, despite what his Quartermaster might believe.
Ah, that is right. He was never going to see Q or hear him. At least he knew he was safe and sound in London, typing away at a code or trying to find that right someone. He hoped he would, he really did. Q deserved a king, a god, someone not of this world - hey, maybe he should come back as a ghost and attach himself to Q; not bother him since he did that enough while he had been alive, but just keep an eye on him and make sure everything was okay.
His voice, James suddenly wanted to hear Q’s voice. One last time, one last call, one last growl and grunt, one last sex night ruined. It took him three times to get Q’s phone right and his hand went numb just as he cradled the phone to his head, but it was okay. Everything was okay; the phone was ringing. He was going to hear Q’s annoyed huff and then apologize for interrupting him, for making him work so hard, for dying.
“Ha! This time I was just making myself some dinner, so you did not cockblock me. Better luck next time, Bond,” Q’s happy voice drifted from the little device and James’s sadness was overcome by pure joy. “I have no idea how your phone keeps surviving despite your earwig always biting the dust.”
“I am as baffled as you are, my hungry Quartermaster,” he rasped out, fighting back the urge to cough.
“Bond, what happened? Where are you? Are you okay? You sound subdued and that’s never the case when it comes to you.” The worry was evident in his voice and if he were in front of him, James would give him a tight hug and thank him for carrying enough to sound like that.
“Bad connection,” he lied through his teeth. “I am fit as a fiddle and I have those new pickup lines I promised you.”
“Don’t you dare lie to me, Bond," Q shot back and something slammed in the background. "I know you and I know how a bad connection sounds. You’re wounded, badly so.”
His clever little Q. “I have completed the mission with a few scratches, Quartermaster. It sounds worse than it really is.” This time the urge to cough was too great and he couldn’t help himself, the phone falling to the ground as his whole body shook and blood split from his lips.
“Bond? Bond? 007? James? James, are you still there?” Q was yelling, clearly desperate and James felt so bad about that. “I’ve been informed that the extraction team just started to head over in your direction since the ‘clear’ signal has been given. James? James, please answer me.”
His hands finally started to cooperate with him and he managed to pick the phone back up. “I am here, Q, don’t worry. Though I might have misled you about how deep those scratches are.” He heard Q let out a shaky sigh. It was better right now to have the man annoyed with him then so close on the verge of tears - yet he didn’t regret calling him because he was selfish and he’d rather have Q’s words and breath be the last things he hears over anything else. “Do you have a few minutes for me to hit on you?”
Q let out a forced laugh. "That’s terrible line, Bond, but yes. Yes, I have a few minutes for you to hit on me. In fact, I have all the time in the world for you to hit on me because you keep us safe, so please continue to fail to impress me with your horrible one-liners until they reach you.”
He could never say no to his Quartermaster and if this was the last thing he would do for him, then let it be - he’d rather kiss him’ well, he’d rather not die, but people almost never got what they wanted. Why should things be any different for him?
“Well, since you do, is your name Wi-Fi? Because I’m really feeling a connection.” He had spent quite a lot of time on this one and he thought Q might find it at least cute, since it was sort-of customized for him. “Can I die knowing your real name, my most favourite letter of the alphabet? I really will take that precious secret to the grave with me.”
“That was horrible, Bond,” Q’s growled. “Try again and if you say something stupid like that, I promise that I will end this conversation, change my number for good and give yours to everyone in Accounting, do you understand?”
“You would never.” He tried to sound offended and shocked, but it came out as a pathetic murmur and Q let out a little noise of distress. “You ask me for a better line, but you’re so beautiful that you made me forget my next pickup line.”
The world was starting to lose focus and to get darker and James was sure that the only thing that still kept him anchored in reality was Q’s voice. For how long, he didn’t know, but he would do all he could to hear it some more.
“That might actually work on me, but only if you say it to my face. So see? You have to stay alive so you can try it on me in person and hear me shout at you for scaring me half to death.” He was pleading now and James pictured him run a hand through his hair while looking helplessly around his room.
“I wish I could—”
“You can and you will, you bloody idiot,” Q growled, slamming the table. “If that team doesn’t get there in the next minute, I am having all of your heads!” He yelled in another phone. “You were about to use another line on me because you decided to use the previous one when we saw each other,” he whispered, clearly talking to him.
“Q, there is one thing that I have to confess,” he said as seriously as he could, not even panicking that he no longer felt his lower half. Q was on the phone with him so everything was good, he told himself. Q was there with him, so he wouldn’t die alone. Q really didn’t deserve this and he was sorry was calling him, but hearing him felt good.
Something stirred in the shadows and he turned to look at it. He knew what it was and was glad that he couldn’t see its face. It slowly moved to him and James’ body refused to listen to him and crawl away.
“Bond! Bond, stay with me and finish what you were saying!” Q ordered him and the figure drew back, the room becoming brighter.
“I am afraid of the dark; would you sleep with me tonight?” He whispered and realized that right now, he really was afraid of the dark. If Q was there… It was so hard to hold on to a thought for more than a few seconds. Still, if Q came to sleep with him that night, after he had died…“Please don’t come sleep with me tonight. Come in eighty years or more. You’re so perfect that it’s worth waiting at the gates of the Afterlife to walk in holding your hand.”
He thought he heard Q sniffle. “James,” the care and tenderness he put in his name cleared up just how desperate he was, “I seem to have suddenly lost all of my clothes and I heard on the news that it is going to be very cold tonight. Will you be my blanket?”
The line was so horrible that he wanted to laugh and applaud Q at the same time. He must have been looking online for some because he had actually head something similar in the past. Not in the same posh accent that made him want to agree to anything and not delivered in such a hot way, but he had heard it.
“James? James, are you still there?” Q called from somewhere far away and James realized that he had dropped his phone. “James? James, please don’t be the first agent I lose, please.”
Oh, how horrible of him. MI6 better have psychologists as good as M claimed they were or he was going to come back as a ghost and drive everyone insane, although Q’s impending depression was clearly his fault because he went and got shot and then called him. And damn it, he hadn’t apologized for everything he’d done. He did leave Q everything he owned, manor included.
“You are not doing this to me, James!” Q continued to rage, his voice getting smaller and further away, countless figures now pouring in through the busted door, heading straight for him.
He couldn’t make out their faces, but their hands felt warm and meatier than he expected them to be and he was suddenly floating. His life didn’t flash before his eyes and he was grateful for that – he really didn’t need to revisit all of his terrible mistakes. But he did get to see the destruction he left behind on this mission and he felt proud about that, especially when he floated past the main door through which he had thrown not one, not two, but three armed guards.
If Q saw that, would he have swooned?
I did not plan on writing or posting this on Christmas, but the office was pretty much empty and the inspiration was there, so why not?
Chapter 6: Phones are the enemies
Your comments and kudos were pure love and I thank you for them.
Hope you enjoy the last chapter as much as you did all the others.
Please forgive any and all mistakes.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Q was furious. If James was awake or at least not connected to so many machines that made it seem like they were living for him, he would have been more than happy to show him just how hard he could hit someone. But, as things stood, with James looking more like a wraith than an actual human being, Q was afraid that even breathing too loudly next to him could cause him more harm.
“Why can’t you be careful?” He asked the comatose agent for what felt like the millionth time. “Not with your equipment, no; I gave up hoping to ever see that back in one piece a long time ago. With yourself.”He sighed and rubbed his hands over his face.
Three months had passed since James was brought back from Death’s realm and stuck in purgatory and the infuriating man was refusing to open his bloody eyes. Some people were starting to lose hopes and one of his minions made the grave mistake of outright saying that it would be better if they pulled the plug and found a new 007 – the man was still stuck on server dusting duty and Q wasn’t feeling like forgiving him anytime soon.
“You’re doing this just to cockblock me, aren’t you?” Q whispered in James’ ear, clutching the side of the bed tightly to keep himself from touching him. “Well, I am sorry to inform you, but your doctor is quite hot and if you don’t wake up soon, I’ll… I’ll…” He trailed off and sighed.
He had run out of things to threaten James with and that left him feeling empty and completely useless. Quartermasters were supposed to guide their agents back home, but James was still lost in a world for which Q didn’t have a map.
“Can you just open your eyes already?” His voice shook. “Or maybe I am going about this the wrong way and instead I should tell you to just keep sleeping since you always do the exact opposite of what I say? If I start telling you to come back on a stretcher, a miracle will occur and you’ll return in better health than when you left?”
James remained silent and Q’s heart only got smaller. Maybe tomorrow things would be different or maybe not. But he sure as hell wasn’t going to give up because Quartermasters never did and he simply refused to allow James to be the first agent he lost – plus, he planned on killing him personally when he got better for giving him his first strands of white hair at the tender age of not-ancient.
The door opened and James’ doctor stuck his head in the room, his eyes somehow filled with even more pity at the sight of Q. “I am terribly sorry—”
“Yes, I know,” Q interrupted the man, getting up and grabbing his satchel. “The visiting hours are over and no one in here likes bribes or threats of being technologically crippled unless they allowed me to stay.” M was still fuming about that slip of tongue on his part.
“We will notify you if something changes during the night, Mister Boothroyd,” the doctor promised as usual, holding the door open for Q.
Glancing at James, Q finally couldn’t ignore his need to touch the man and carefully brushed his hand alongside the man’s arm, shivering at how cold it felt. If it weren’t for the constant beeping, Q might be tempted to think that the man was dead.
“If you dare to flatline, I will get someone from MI13 to drag your consciousness from wherever it goes, trap it in a Ben doll and force you to listen to me scolding you right before I gift you to M.” He pushed his fingers against James’ wrist just to be sure the machines were working properly. “I want to be notified even if his heartbeat changes, do you understand?”
The doctor smiled sadly at Q and walked over to him, grabbing his free hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “The nurses and doctors on the night shift have been informed of that, yes.” He started to pull him towards the door, repeating the words he had told him since James had been brought in: his condition might change any minute, be it for better or for worse and he would be the first person notified of any changes. He should get some rest and eat since it did James no good if his condition deteriorated to the point of being his room colleague.
“After all, I am assuming that you will be his crutch when he wakes up,” the doctor concluded, checking his pager.
Q nodded. He had been that since the day he became Quartermaster; he’d seen James at his highest and lowest and he didn’t think the agent would allow anyone else but him to see him in a position that proved he was a simple human.
“I will be back tomorrow,” Q said and the doctor smiled sadly at him again.
Something was beeping right next to him, dragging him out of his dreamless sleep and it annoyed him because this was the first time in weeks when he wasn’t actively trying to wake himself up from a nightmare.
“Yes?” He breathed into his phone, still struggling to open his eyes and ignore the headache that came out of nowhere.
“Q? Q, I need you.” James said urgently from the other side and just like that, Q was on his feet, blindingly looking for his laptop.
“You always do.” He tripped on something, landing right in front of his laptop. “Just let me boot up and I will be able to assist you in a second,” he grumbled, rubbing his eyes. There was something else that he was supposed to do, but his mind was still mostly asleep and he couldn’t remember what it was.
“Q, I need you to come here. I need to be sure it’s really you,” James insisted, something clattering in the background. “They’re telling me I’ve been in a coma and that I am back in London, but I don’t trust them, Q; I don’t hear Big Ben, I can’t see the Eye, I don’t know where I really am.”
Q was fully awake then, happy and excited. “I’ll be there as fast as I can.” He pulled on the first pair of pants his eyes landed on and started to struggle with his shoes. “They’re telling you the truth, James.” He didn’t think the shoes where the same, but at least he had the right one on his right foot and the left one on his left foot.
“I am not letting you anywhere near my phone and I am not putting the bedpan down until I see you with my own eyes,” James threatened, obviously talking with the people around him and not with Q.
“It’s fine; that’s fine. The phone is charged, I am on my way so feel free to talk about anything you want.” He grabbed his wallet, the first jacket his eyes landed on and then bolted out the door, not even bothering to lock it. The building belonged to MI6 and every apartment was under careful surveillance. No thief was going to get to do more than reach his living room before someone took them down.
It was also thanks to that same security system that an MI6 car was waiting for him when he stumbled out of the building, the driver holding the door open for him and helping him enter it without tripping on his own feet of bumping his head against the roof.
“I want to be sure you’re really my Q,” James breathed out, sounding confused and weak which only made Q wish he’d been allowed to finish his teleportation device, scrambling of atoms and horrible consequences to the human body be damned. “You sound like him, but after seeing the things I did, I wouldn’t be surprised if you were no more than a machine that is perfectly capable of imitating his posh accent.”
“You know the hospital where 007 is recuperating?” The man nodded. “Take me there as fast as humanly possible,” Q ordered, turning his attention back to the phone conversation. “I will not apologize for the way my voice sounds–”
“It turns me on,” James interrupted him. “I realized that when I hear that husky voice tell me to do something, even if I end up doing the exact opposite, I want him. I want him so bad to mewl my name, to order me to move, to beg.” He let out a shaky breath and Q struggled to keep his eyes open. “So if you are just a machine, I will track you down and rip out your vocal chip to give to Q to add it as a voice option on my GPS.”
The driver took a sharp turn and Q almost dropped the phone. “Bond, if I do that and you trash one of my cars because you were too busy doing something that would normally land you in an unscheduled meeting with the MI6 psychiatrist and would freak a normal person, I will personally equip you with a chastity belt.”
James chuckled and the driver ran a red light. “That does sound like something my Q would say, but I am still not convinced.”
“Well, I suppose I could start moaning since you are the only one in MI6 who listened in on me having sex.” He hit the driver’s seat when the man outright turned to look at him. “I am rushing to the hospital, but I really don’t plan on getting there in the back of an ambulance,” he hissed. At least there was no possible way for this man to be a mole, since he was horrible at listening in while pretending not to do so.
“You are Q,” James breathed out and Q heard all the tension disappear out of his voice. “Are you still cold? Do you still want me to keep you warm tonight? Because I am more than willing to cover your naked body with mine.”
Q snorted. At least he knew for sure James’ memory was intact. “At how cold to the touch you were just a few hours ago, you’re the one who needs to be kept warm.”
“And will you?”
“Yes,” Q said without skipping a beat. “If you are nice to the nurses and doctors, I will keep you warm as well as play doctor with you until you no longer need me.”
The car came to a screeching stop and Q jumped out of it, ignoring the guards and nurses that were yelling at him to stop and headed straight for James’ room. Of course he found the man on top of his bed, managing to look threatening as he held a bedpan like it was a gun, a huge smile spreading on his lips when he saw Q, phone dropping on the ground.
“Tisk, tisk, tisk, Q. You are out of uniform,” James teased, dropping the bedpan as well and lowering himself on the bed, growling when all the strangers rushed to him and blocked Q’s path. “He gets to touch me first and if you want me to cooperate, he is in my field of vision at all times.”
Q gently tugged on his ear, clicking his tongue. “If this is the way you treat your doctors and nurses, then I am sticking you in medical under Nurse Hildebrand’s care and you know perfectly well how she reacts to your usual bullshit.” He motioned for the medical staff that it was safe for them to start doing their jobs, lightly holding on to James’ hand.
James was mostly civil while receiving the check-up, although he did seem to have something against the doctor. He always interrupted him when he talked with Q, tugged on Q’s arm when he smiled at the man and outright refused to let go of his hand when he wanted to shake the doctor’s hand.
“James,” he snapped when the man took his other hand, “you won’t get any lollipop if you keep acting like a five-year old.” He turned to the doctor who was doing everything he could not to look him in the eyes, face obviously red with embarrassment. “What is he on because he’s normally not this childish. Perverted, yes; close to throwing a fit because of something, never.”
“We did increase his morphine dosage, so he might act a little bit strange,” the doctor explained, stepping away from Q when James started to push him away with his head. “He will not get violent and even if he did, he wouldn’t be able to really do anything other than threaten people.”
“As if I’d threaten my—” Q covered James’ mouth and the doctor excused himself right after assuring Q that the hospital would make an exception in his case and allow him to spend the night if he so wished.
James had started to lick the palm of Q’s hand, occasionally placing little kisses on it. It felt surprisingly good and Q had half of mind to replace his palm with his lips, just so he could test for himself James’ kissing ability, but since the man was currently drugged, now was not the right time to settle his curiosity.
“You taste good,” James mumbled after Q moved his hand away from his mouth.
“Well, the lollipop would have been Quartermaster flavoured, but since you were so rude to the poor doctor…” He trailed off and James whined, forcing Q to sit down on the bed next to him. “Did he do anything before I got here? Or maybe before you got a hold of your phone?”
James shook his head, pouting - and what a pity Q couldn’t reach his phone; he would have loved to take a picture of him looking like that. “His name is Albert and that makes him your type.”
Q looked confused at James. “Can you explain the train of thought you used to reach that erroneous conclusion?”
“His name is Albert,” James insisted. “Only slightly worse than Bob from MI5 and thus, just the man you’d share your bed with. And this one, unlike MI5’s Ben is easy on the eyes, smart enough to hold an actual conversation with you if he is allowed.”
“His name was Bill,” Q corrected automatically. “And just because someone has a basic or boring name doesn’t make them my type.” He lied down on his side when he figured out that was why James was tugging on his arm, careful not to touch James.
But of course James wasn’t satisfied with that so he buried his head in Q’s chest and struggled to throw his leg over him - Q took pity on him and helped him. He settled down after that and Q managed to kick his shoes off without falling out of the bed or hit James and closed his eyes, for the first time in three months not bothered by the smell or the sound.
“So,” James muttered just as Q was falling asleep, “when do I get my Quartermaster flavoured lollipop?”
Q started to laugh. It was the hysterical type of laughter, but he couldn’t help it. He finally felt free of the burden that was weighing down his heart and his brain seemed to think that this was the only proper way to react. “Definitely not in here and not when you are like this,” he wheezed out, wiping the tears from his eyes.
“But I’ll be the only one from now on, right?” James asked after Q swatted his hand away from his face, annoyed at how mesmerized the man seemed at his lack of glasses. It was cute and endearing, but beyond annoying when you were nursing a headache.
“If you want,” Q said carefully after thinking for a minute, James already snoring. Well, it didn’t matter. This conversation was best had when neither one of them was high on painkillers.
M’s hideous porcelain dog hit the ground and Q tried to see if it was okay. “Leave it,” James growled, digging his hands in Q’s half-opened shirt to keep him in place. “That blasted thing is tougher than M was.” He bit down on Q’s exposed collarbone to be sure he was distracted, getting rewarded with a low moan.
“James, something is practically stabbing me in my left cheek,” Q pated out, rubbing his knee against the growing bugle in James’ pants. “And I assure you that’s not where I want to be poked or what to be poked with.”
Although he was told to do minimal effort until he fully recovered, James still lifted Q with ease off of his coffee table, squeezing Q’s ass and keeping him from complaining with a deep kiss.
When they kissed for the first time – right after Q woke up with James cradled next to him in the hospital bed – it had been animalistic. They growled and grunted low in their throats, tongues wrestled for dominance until Q finally gave and allowed James’ to twirl, push and brush against his, bit their lips and bumped their teeth together, Q’s spicy taste mixing perfectly with James’ surprisingly sweet one blended in and created something they both got addicted to and of which they could never get enough.
If James hadn’t been connected to machines that went crazy and brought an army of nurses and doctors, afraid that the man was having a heart attack, they would have done way more than just make out.
Q tore his shirt off and wrapped his lips around his nipple, licking it before it, ending up on his back, with his pants pulled out. He giggled and licked his lips, unzipping James’ pants with his toes, running his hands down his naked body.
“I’m cold,” he whined. “I’m cold and I need you.”
James also needed him and, pulling his pants off, pushed against Q and helped him wrap his legs around his waist. “I’ll take good care of you,” he promised, kissing Q slowly before moving on to attack his neck, planning on leaving behind a mark for all the world to see and know that he was no longer on the market.
Q moaned and tilted his head back to give James more room, dragging his nails down his back. He took James’ right hand and started to lick and suck his index finger, rubbing against him.
“No; the first drawer, right next to the gun,” James instructed in a hushed voice, letting him move away from him only to push his head against his lover back and squeeze his ass as Q dug around for the lube.
Q turned to look at him, eyes half lidded and for a second, James thought that he had screwed up and crossed a line. But Q chuckled and rolled to face him, moving under James and wrapping his arms around him. “You can spank it. You can tug on my hair, tie me up, bend me over my own bloody desk and take me until it breaks,” he rubbed their faces together and then bit his ear. “You are allowed to do everything to me and more.” He blocked James from kissing him, suddenly looking serious. “Provided we talk about the rougher things.”
“I wouldn’t dream of doing something to you that would actually hurt you,” James muttered against Q’s finger, smiling when he was pulled in a slow kiss. He slowly dragged his hands down Q’s sides, slipping one on between them and drumming his fingers softly on his stomach and just as he was about to start teasing Q’s tip, a phone rang.
But not just a phone. Q’s phone.
“Well, you’re here, we’re both on leave for the next week, so who the bloody hell is the moron interrupting me this time?” Q snarled, slipping out from under James and pulling out his phone from his pants, anger replaced with surprise and even joy when he heard the other person’s voice.
James sneaked next to him and pushed his ear against the phone, draping the soft covers over the shivering man.
“I can’t tell you how pleased I am to hear that you are on your way back, Alec,” Q said and James wanted to groan and chuck his phone out the window. “You managed to bring back your car and your gun?” He turned his green eyes to James and that was when the alarm bells started to go off in the agent’s head
Oh, hell no. He’ll be damned if he let Alec cockblock the Quartermaster when he was the one trying to cock him and he may he be stuck for eternity behind a desk, writing reports by hand if he allowed his best friend to steal Q away from him with equipment brought back in pristine condition.
He snatched the phone from Q with ease, the man doing nothing more than click his tongue and narrow his eyes. “Alec? Yeah, I have Q’s phone for the exact reason you are thinking about.”
“So, I am guessing that crashing on your sofa when I do get back is out of the question? Or is this a one night thing?” Alec asked, sounding so amused that James would have punched him in the face if he was in the room with him.
“Not a one night thing.” He pulled Q closer to him and kissed his temple. “In fact, when you do run your mouth off to R and Eve, feel free to shout on top of your lungs.” He didn’t even flinch when Q pinched his side. “It’s going to spare me having to track down every MI6 member and scare them away.”
“Bond, if my own minions end up too afraid to even be in the same room with me, I will use your balls to decorate me Christmas tree,” Q warned, biting hard on James’ lower lip.
James groaned and his eyes rolled in the back of his head, almost dropping the phone. “I am afraid I have to go now. Don’t call back or I will shove every phone I can find up your ass,” he muttered, making sure to end the call before pushing Q down.
Q’s sex noises were only for his ears.
Thank you so much for sticking with the story until the end. I hope you had as much fun reading it as I did writing it.