Bond was a spy. It was his job to stick his nose in places it was supposed to stay well away from. He put his life on the line on a regular basis to gather highly sensitive Intel on very dangerous people. And he did it, without even batting an eyelid. He never felt remorse for his actions, there was never any guilt that clung on to him after the deed was done.

But as his fingers deftly flipped through the pages of Q's sketch book, he felt wrong. He had found the small black book buried underneath a pile of old computer parts Q was dissecting for Tanner. It wasn't an official assignment so Q was working in an unofficial area of MI6: The old MI6. Bond had watched Q come here day after day when he clocked off from work. The security cameras outside the old building had picked his face out and red alerted it as an intruder. After that, Bond had made it part of his routing (when he was in the country) to check that Q made it to the burnt out building every afternoon.

So now, standing in the cold empty space of old MI6, scarred with black from the explosion, he felt like and intruder.

However wrong he felt standing there flipping through the inner workings of Q's mind, he couldn't deny that the drawings were beautiful. The soft shading of a gardenia contrasted stunningly with the sharp hard lines of a rather vicious looking wolf. He could almost feel Q's mood as he gazed upon each picture. Some were drawings of buildings. Some were of MI6's bustling lunch room on a regular day. They were drawings of anything and everything.

As the light began to drain from the hollowed out building, Bond decided it best to leave (or at least be some-what hidden) before Q arrived. It was usually at around 6 the young quartermaster would clock off, come here for an hour or two, and then return to work for another 4 or so hours. Bond shook his head, he would never understand that man.

As Bond finally made the decision to stop ogling Q's masterpieces, his eye caught on the full page drawing on the flipside of the page he was looking at. It was a drawing of a man, but not just any man, it was a drawing of him. His eyes bore into the image, trying to discern why Q would want to draw him. Him. Q hated him. Always brining back half or none of his assigned weaponry, never following orders, always getting lost. He hated him. Didn't he?

So then why was the entire second half of his sketch book filled with drawings of James? And only James. They started of innocent enough, just head shots of his profile or his retreating form. But as the book grew to its end, the pictures started to get, not only better, but there was something behind them that was….discerning. His face was drawn front on, and perfectly. There was drawings of his completely naked torso drawn from every angle possible. Bond couldn't recall when Q could've possible seen Bond like this, therefore leaving the only possible conclusion to be…that was how Q imagined Bond.

And based on the drawings, he imagined him to be remarkable. And that was more than anyone had ever done for Bond before. The feeling that grew within him was strange and new but frightening all at once. A feeling, he found, he rather enjoyed.

"Bond! What the bloody hell are you-"

"Did you draw these?" Bond tore his eyes away from a strong, close up image of his face to bore them into Q. He took him in all at once. Glasses slightly askew, hair messily styled, a black jacket covering another one of his hideous cardigans that Bond found rather amusing. The feeling inside him grew, warm and fuzzy and spreading rapidly until even his toes felt the rush. There was just something about the way Q's mouth hung slightly agape as he stared at the little book in Bond's hand. The way his cheeks turned bright scarlet and his brow began to sweat. Everything was about him was suddenly so much more endearing.

"God, you're a spy. Of course you were going to find it." Q practically growled into his hands. He chorded his fingers through his hair and finished with, "That's private."

"They're beautiful." Bond took a small step forward. Q seemed rather shocked at his words so he used it as an advantage to take another step. He kept pushing. "Where did you learn to draw like this?"

"Well, I uh, didn't learn so much as…found out I suppose. A natural gift I guess? I mean-"

"Q."

Bonds eyes flickered to the Q's slender neck as his Adams apple bobbed with an obvious gulp. His voice shook slightly when he spoke, "Yes?"

"Why me? You could've drawn anyone, so why me?" Bond was inches away from him now. He could see every muscle in his face move from apprehension and fear to determination.

"Because I have you memorised. Almost every day I see your face, whether it be on a computer screen or in real life but every day I see you. And every day you seem so different." Q's words brought a crinkle to the middle of Bond's forehead. So he explained further. "You put on this mask of indifference so that no one knows who you are behind it but I don't think you realise how much a mask can give away if it is changed only slightly. When you see the same thing for so long, a minor change is enough. And for me, I wanted to capture it."

Bond didn't want to contemplate Q's words. Not just yet. He was talking about Bond in a way no one had dared to before. And it made Bond want him.

"You say you have me memorised. But you've never even seen half of what you claim to already know." Bonds voice was low and hot in Q's ear. Q shuddered and placed a feather light touch to Bond's chest.

"Can…can you blame me for wanting to?" Q's eyes flickered up to Bond's as he spoke. So low it was barely a whisper. And Bond was lost. He brought his lips down hard against Q's. His hands ran through thick black hair as he deepened their kiss.

Q didn't shy away either. His lips seemed to move In sync with Bond's, moving and reacting to his touch like it was second nature. Q gave a soft ooph sound as Bond backed him up against the cool stone wall, grabbing the lapels of his jacket to pin him in place.

"I thought you hated me." Bond spoke against his lips, not wanting to break contact for more than a second out of fear of waking up and realising he was dreaming.

"I did hate you." Q gently grabbed Bond's chin so he could look him in the eye when he spoke his next words. "Then I fell in love with you."