I
Close
It never occurred to James Bond how small Q's hands in comparison to his were until he was actually holding them.
The two were in the dank basement of a crumbling ruin at some archeological site on the other side of the world, the aftermath of a mission all around the two of them. Q was unnervingly quiet for once, the pulse fluttering weakly in his wrist. James said nothing, but checked the tourniquets on Q's thigh and upper arm, using a torch to gauge the blood flow from the bullet wounds. He knew there were a few more on Q's torso, but couldn't do much about those without proper medical supplies or he'd risk infection. He had two fingers resting on Q's wrist, watching with disguised curiosity as the quartermaster's fingers flexed slowly, as though Q was still trying to come to terms with what had just happened.
Finally, after and indeterminable amount of time, James said quietly, "Q, curl your fingers around my hand if you can hear me."
For a moment, Q didn't respond. Blood plastered his hair to his skull, and Bond could see bruises forming where the younger man had made contact with the wall earlier, when the hired thugs had been hauling him into the basement to 'deal with him', as the terrorist, one Monsieur Lefèvre, said before disappearing in the ensuing chaos.
Then, slowly, Q's fingers curled around James's bigger, scarred hand, and stayed there, even though James knew it was costing the quartermaster precious energy to remain still now. Smooth skin brushed gently against the back of James's hand, the most intimate physical contact James had had in years. Since Vesper, now that he thought about it, after her, he'd been careful to keep his lovers from too much physical contact. Too much contact might lead to more than James was willing to commit.
Then again, Q wasn't a lover, so theoretically James had nothing to worry about.
Then Q coughed, the connection breaking as he released James's hand in order to curl up on himself in an attempt to lessen the pain. James gave him a few minutes of space before reaching out and gently catching his hand again to keep him from hurting himself further, as well as to keep an eye on the pulse. A thumb over the pulse-point should be enough.
Yet James found that he had wrapped one of his hands around Q's entire wrist, the pointer finger and thumb both resting on the fluttering rhythm, silently distracting himself by counting the beats per minute. Even without glancing at his watch, he knew it would be another ten to fifteen minutes before rescue came, and hopefully, if he were lucky, Q would have no recollection of this incident. It was well known throughout that MI6 that 007 rarely showed anything more than ambivalence to anyone who wasn't a friend, which in other words, anyone who wasn't a 00 agent or Moneypenny.
Q wasn't an exception. James knew what it was like to be in pain without comfort, and wouldn't wish that on anyone else.
That was the only reason he was doing this.
Right?
A/N: James Bond and all related media belong to Ian Fleming.
A third 30 Day OTP challenge, with slight deviations :)
