"You have got to be kidding me?"
Bond stared incredulously at the rack of clothing in front of him and then looked wide-eyed at Alec Trevelyan who had visibly blanched and taken several steps towards the exit. Unfortunately he found the door to 'Kit Room 2' swinging firmly shut and locking with an ominous click. The two men looked at one another and turned simultaneously towards the third man in the room. Well, 'man' seemed a bit of a loose term...
"Ah there you are gents. On time for once too." Q pulled the sash of his silk robe more tightly around his middle and rocked on his heels. Four inch stiletto heels in black patent leather, to be precise. He quirked a perfectly plucked eyebrow at the pair waiting for, well something, but it seemed 'shocked goldfish' was the only expression they were capable of. "Hm, well. Once the old brain cells have caught up we'll get started. In the meantime, please strip. You can hang your clothing in the wardrobe behind you."
"I... We... What?"
"Strip please. It means remove your clothing 007. My, we are a little slow today aren't we? You may keep your underwear on for now if it makes you more comfortable, but I need to make a full assessment of your bodies if I am to equip you properly."
"Equip us for what exactly?" Alec asked looking around the room nervously. There was an awful lot of clothing hanging on racks, but nothing he would ever imagine wearing. It was all a little too gender-specific, and the opposite end of where he was fairly sure he was meant to be. Bond meanwhile was still staring at Q's subtly made-up face and long dark wavy hair with horrified fascination. He was beautiful but ever so slightly... Wrong? He jumped a foot in the air when Alec elbowed him in the ribs.
"M has a briefing for us at sixteen-hundred hours for a mission that requires you to have some feminine skills. I don't know the details, so don't waste time trying to interrogate me." He checked his watch, a very masculine Tag that slipped from under the whisper of silk sleeve. "That gives me approximately four hours to issue you with the kit you need and train you how to use it. As you can see I have a certain affinity for the task." He twirled slowly with a very Q grin and chuckled at the utter confusion they displayed. "Now, disrobe if you would while I make a few selections."
Alec undressed quickly tossing his clothes into an untidy pile in the bottom of the wardrobe but Bond was precise, hanging each item carefully. There wasn't much of either agent that Q hadn't had the dubious pleasure of seeing at least once on CCTV but getting almost naked in the same room was weird.
"What the fuck is going on Alec?"
"I'm assuming we are required to dress as women." He waved at the racks of dresses, wigs and drawers full of make-up, which clearly explained everything and nothing.
"You seem remarkably eager," Bond said sourly.
"Q is in silk and heels, or did you not notice that? There's just something so fucking magnificent about him. I'm curious and if I have to dress up to find out more then I'm up for it. I've done stranger things for women."
"He's not a bloody woman, or did you not notice that?"
"Not so much actually." He glanced at Bond who still hadn't dragged his eyes from their Quartermaster. "You have to admit he looks incredible."
Q prowled back to them and circled slowly like a predator scenting blood. They were both in good shape but definitely stood a little straighter and sucked in any hint of a stomach under such close scrutiny. Alec flinched when Q squeezed his bicep with long manicured fingers, humming to himself under his breath as he assessed their build and body shape. He stopped behind Bond so close the blond felt the brush of the silk robe against his calves.
"I was right," Q said eventually. "You have an appointment at two for waxing. Quickest way, I'm afraid."
"I am not having my legs waxed!" Bond squawked indignantly, breaking off when Q stopped in front of him and set his shiny shoe on the seat of a chair exposing one long pale smooth limb from ankle to upper thigh. He ran his fingertips lightly over his knee.
"We are not aiming for 'hairy-arsed builder in a frock' Bond, we want elegance. Your legs need to be smooth to carry off stockings. Laser hair removal is the best but that takes months that we don't have, so you delicate little things will just have to man up and wax. Legs, arms, chest and wherever else my girl recommends." He grinned wickedly at Bond who had gone very still, watching Q's painted fingertips play over his kneecap.
"Laser hair- Um, how far-?" Bond stuttered.
Q plucked the sash loose and the robe fell open in a spill of deep navy to reveal neat little breasts that definitely weren't normally there cupped in a lacy black bra, and perfectly smooth long lean legs that seemed to go on forever. In between were black lace covered pants that were surprisingly substantial but no less pretty.
"All off?" Alec choked and Q gave him a condescending look.
"I have no desire to appear like a pre-pubescent boy, 006. I do keep a tidy bikini line however."
Bond really wanted to sit down with a stiff drink, preferably direct from the bottle. Queen and Country asked a bloody lot of him, but this was ridiculous. Alec meanwhile was asking semi-intelligent questions about Q's knickers that had the Quartermaster smiling and nodding approvingly.
"Are they restrictive? They don't look too comfortable. Not much room for your cock is there?"
"Women don't wear pretty underwear for comfort, and nor do we. Can't have your penis ruining the line of your clothing, although we'll go for a style that drapes rather than clings."
Bond actually whimpered and buried his face in his hands. This was not happening. They were not three grown men discussing bikini lines, panties and hair removal like they were teenagers on a raucous girl's night out. Whatever M wanted from them could be done much more effectively by real women surely? He was about to comment as such when he realized Alec was bare-arsed and struggling into a similar pair of restrictor-knickers, one hand on Q's shoulder for balance as he tried to get his other foot in the leg hole. He looked absurdly pleased when he finally smoothed them over his arse and shoved a hand down the front to rearrange himself into the least uncomfortable position they would allow.
"Amazing," Q smiled. "I sized you perfectly, and they look sensational on you."
"Thank you," Alec grinned checking out his rear view in one of the many mirrors, twisting and turning and, oh god, posing. "Your turn, James!"
He snatched another pair from Q's hands and tossed them at Bond's head. They fell short, flopping into his lap and he picked them up, examining them distastefully. He attempted a stretch to find there wasn't much give in the fabric. He could imagine permanent damage to the blood flow to his poor cock. "I'll try them later," he muttered, dropping them onto a nearby table hoping to forget all about them.
"Come on Bond, are you a man or a mouse?"
"Squeak, squeak!" Laughed Alec.
"Piss off, both of you."
Q rolled his eyes and huffed. "Fine. Later then. Next lesson is stockings and shoes. Stockings are easier to manage than tights in case you need to pee. Less chance you'll ruin them with your finger nails. Speaking of which..." He grabbed Bond's hand and brought it close to his face, and for the first time Bond realized he wasn't wearing his glasses. "You need a manicure. Gel nails. You can pick out a colour once we've selected an outfit."
He dropped Bond's hand and disappeared into a back room, leaving the two agents alone. Bond peered at his nails. They were typical bloke's nails he supposed, clean and kept trimmed, not meant to be painted and shaped. He enjoyed the feeling of long nails raking passionately down his back, but couldn't imagine being the one to do the scratching. He hoped to god seduction would play no part in this mission!
"Can you seriously see me with red talons?"
Alec looked away from admiring his own reflection. "Why not? This could be a laugh you know? I think it will be some sort of party."
"Cinderella and the ugly sisters go to the ball? He's already a fucking princess; he doesn't need a bloody party dress for that!"
"Always good to hear I command your respect 007. Now then, let's try three inches to start with, shall we?"
"Wh-what?"
Alec burst out laughing at the terror on the other man's face.
"Heels, Bond. Get your mind out of the gutter." Q smirked and thrust a pair of lace top hold-ups at the blond man. "Put those on while I choose some shoes for you to try." Bond looked at them blankly. He was perfectly accomplished at removing such things, not so much at wearing them.
"Need some help there?" Alec laughed. Somehow he had managed to get into his own without any trouble and was still parading before the mirror. Honestly, how vain was he?
"I'm fine thanks." Bond growled, running the sleek stockings through his hands repeatedly. He was still nervously fiddling with them when Q returned with a stunning pair of scarlet heeled pumps. Stunning? Christ, when had he ever applied such a word to a bloody shoe? Q looked at him in exasperation, eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
"Sit!" He commanded pointing at a purple velvet upholstered chair in the corner. Q knelt at Bond's feet taking one stocking from the blond man and expertly rolling it. "Toes!"
"What?"
"Give me your foot. Please?" Q's dark eyes shone as Bond cautiously presented his foot. The younger man wrapped his fingers around Bond's ankle and cheekily placed the sole against his lower belly over the black lace.
"Q..." Bond warned, trying to tug his foot away but Q kept it firmly in place, hissing too low for Alec to overhear.
"Are you going to stop being a pain in the arse and get over yourself? Believe it or not, sharing this side of me isn't easy, even though it's for an assignment."
"I'm sorry, but I find this embarrassing. Call me stupid, but-"
"You're not stupid, but I can see that this is making you deeply uncomfortable. We need to move on quickly though, time is short. If you want to talk about this later we can, but right now I need to get you into a frock and make a convincing woman out of you. My safety may depend on it so do it for me?" He fluttered his false eyelashes at the agent who was apparently starting to panic.
"Are you flirting with me?"
"Giving you a security blanket. Just this once I will allow you to flirt as much as you need to get through this. Deal?"
Bond swallowed, pushing his foot a little more firmly against Q's stomach. "Ok." He sat rigidly as Q expertly rolled the stocking over his foot, up his calf to his knee. He paused there, silently asking permission to go further. Bond gave it with a nod and Q worked the fine fabric up to Bond's mid-thigh, smoothing the lace so it lay flat over his skin.
"Ok? Now do the other one like I just showed you and put the shoes on. I'll be back in a second because I can sense 006 is up to no good."
There was a rustling of fabric and metallic scraping of coat hangers followed by a whoop of delight from the mischievous man. "Hey, I found the boobs." Q sighed and flowed elegantly to his feet, hurrying across the room to rescue his breasts from the over-enthusiastic agent who was cupping and squeezing a generous pair.
"Leave them alone please. They aren't toys for you to play with," he scolded, immediately regretting his choice of words when the realization settled on Alec that he could have some of his very own for lonely nights. "The answer is no, before you ask."
"Are they armed?"
"Armed?"
"Yeah, weaponized in some way."
"They're fucking fake breasts. The only danger is from a slap if you stare at them too long!" He rescued the pair in Alec's hands and handed him a smaller pair. "Not those ones, they're wrong for your shape. Here, try these."
He selected a bra from a shelf, accurately assessing the size Alec needed and helping him into it, adjusting the straps and nestling the breasts into the cups so they sat naturally on his chest. "What do you think?"
Alec gave them an experimental squeeze, turning left and right to admire them from all angles. He wrinkled his nose critically. "The bra could be sexier. It looks like something a grandmother would wear."
"Oh for fucks sake. Firstly Trevelyan, women don't grope their own breasts so stop fondling yourself. Secondly, the bra is to keep them in the correct position without me having to worry about one dropping two inches because you forget how to move in a ladylike fashion. Your dress is the green one over there. Put it on and let me look at you."
Behind them Bond was on his feet, barely. Q sighed at the sight of the muscular blond balanced precariously in the red shoes, arse sticking out to compensate for the forward tilt of his body. He looked like a chicken about to peck for grain in the farmyard.
"Posture James. Stand up straight, tilt your pelvis to tuck your bottom in and try to straighten your legs." He made a passable attempt, but as soon as he tried to walk he looked ungainly. "Don't swagger, glide. Watch, like this." Q moved effortlessly across the floor in the stilettos, adding a sexy sway to his narrow hips."
"And how long did you practice to be able to walk like that?" Bond grumbled. "Believe it or not Q, I've never felt the desire to add several inches to my height and risk a broken ankle for the sake of vanity, so I'm probably not going to be able to master a sexy catwalk strut in five minutes!"
"Well, you have an hour. There's a mirror - see how good you look." Q placed one hand on Bond's shoulder and the other hand on his rear. As soon as he felt that warm hand on his arse Bond's hips snapped forward so fast he overbalanced backwards, taking Q down with him. Alec turned at the clatter to find the two men on the floor in a tangle of limbs. "For god's sake James, relax. I'm not feeling you up, just encouraging you into a better position."
Alec snorted. "A better position is flat on his back on the floor with you on top of him? Should I leave?"
"Don't get smart Trevelyan, we don't have time. Your dress is perfect by the way. Take the blonde wig."
Q got to his feet gracefully, Bond struggling upright like a toddler taking his first steps. Q turned him to face the mirror and stood behind him. With the patent stilettos Q was fractionally taller and could look over his shoulder. "Ok, I'm going to put my hands on your hips, don't freak out." Bond grunted assent and only the barest tension in the muscles of his back let Q know that he wasn't entirely happy with it. "Look in the mirror and see how your feet are positioned. Take a step forward and place your stepping foot closer to the center line of your body than you normally would. It will feel odd at first, like your legs are trying to trip you up, but if you shift your hips as you move you'll achieve a feminine sway. Try it and my hands will guide your hips." They made four or five attempts, concentrating on how it looked in the mirror, before Q instructed Bond to think more about the movement of his body and how it felt. He left the agent to practice while he sourced the rest of his outfit. Bond missed the feel of Q's hands on his hips.
Twenty minutes later Q returned his attention to Bond once more. He arrived with underwear that he insisted Bond try on, relenting enough to let him slip into the back room to change. The agent was broader in the chest than the other two men and Q fussed and fiddled for a mortifyingly long time before pronouncing Bond's neatly rounded average sized breasts to be as perfect as they could possibly be. He felt strangely flattered by the compliment even though they were in no way his own accomplishment. The dress Q selected for him was black, cut to cling over his chest but swing at the hips making him appear to have enviable curves and the red shoes were a startling splash of colour.
"You look amazing," Q breathed close to his ear as he reached around to adjust Bond's neckline. "Gorgeous in fact."
"Q behave. I'm ok, or getting there at least. You don't have to keep up the joking flattery."
"Who's joking?" Q said lightly, swishing off in a whirl of navy blue to retrieve the wig they'd agreed on. As soon as it was in place Bond ceased to be Bond. The dramatic dark red fell in a soft sleek curtain to his shoulders and lay in such a way that it disguised the musculature of his neck and upper back. "Fabulous darling," Q drawled earning him an icy glare from beneath the long fringe.
Alec stepped up beside him and regarded him in the mirror. "You're not bad looking as a bird actually. If I saw you in the dark I might try my luck."
"Fuck off!"
"Yes well, luckily for me you two will have non-speaking roles, you just need to stand and look pretty. Even you can manage that 006," Q said sweetly.
Alec scowled. "Even as a woman you prefer him. What's a girl to do?" He thrust out a hip and pouted prettily at the other two, causing Bond to snort with laughter and Q to throw up his hands in horror.
"Get your hair on while I dress."
Both men pivoted towards him wide-eyed. "You're actually dressing too?"
"Well obviously, or did you think I was parading around like this just to titillate?"
"I thought you were trying to make us more comfortable with the idea." Bond said.
"I thought you were just showing off," Alec leered.
"Of course, because the way to keep the attention of my two most difficult agents is to give myself tits and dress in pretty lingerie. Obvious really when I think about it. Should have tried it months ago." He sighed and stalked across the room letting the robe slip from his shoulders and pool on the floor. His slim build could pass easily for feminine when teamed with the precise delicate practiced movements and the discreetly padded underwear that added a gentle curve to his hips and buttocks. When he bent to slowly ease a stocking up his leg Bond made a small choking sound.
"Naughty Q, stop teasing James, his blood pressure can't take it."
"My blood pressure isn't a fucking problem, believe me."
Q chuckled and repeated the action with the other leg casting a cheeky glance at Bond who growled and stormed off to the purple chair once more, crossing his legs in a surprisingly feminine flounce.
"Very good Bond," Q called with a wink. "We'll make a lady of you yet." He disappeared behind a curtain and emerged a moment later with two dresses for their approval. "Which do you think?"
"You're asking-?"
"Silver-grey," Bond interrupted and blushed when both smirked at him. "What? If I was buying for a brunette I'd choose silver over burgundy and I like the... Fuck, never mind. Just silver, ok?"
"Silver it is then," smiled Q. He shimmied into the dress, the soft sheen of the fabric seeming to glow in the light. Bond found himself entranced, so much so he didn't notice Alec sidle up to him twirling one blonde curl around his finger. "Earth to Bond, you're staring."
"Hm? Am not" He replied vehemently, embarrassed to be caught out.
"Actually you are but it's flattering." Q said in the mirror, refreshing his lipstick. "It makes a change to not feel like the least attractive one in the room. Zip me please?"
Alec stepped back with a gesture to indicate Bond should step up and do the honors. "Go on, I think he likes you," he whispered to the flushed agent.
"Yeah, but in a fucking dress. I spend months trying to get him to show an interest and he finally does now? What the hell does that say?"
Alec thought for a moment. "Perhaps it means he finally feels comfortable enough to let you get closer? For us this is just work, but I don't think that's the case for Q. I think he's testing you to see if you can handle it. Don't mess it up James."
The zip fastener was tiny in his clumsy fingers and he was horrified to notice a small tremor in his hand when he closed the dress up the length of Q's back. Q's eyes sparkled in the mirror, his rosy lips quirked in a smug grin. "Good to know you're not always a cocky git Bond. Levels the playing field," he said softly.
"I didn't know we were playing a game." His fingers rested lightly on the nape of Q's neck under the length of the wig. He stroked one finger along Q's natural hairline causing a pleasant shiver in the younger man.
"Business before pleasure Bond, I believe I've told you that on a number of occasions."
"And I believe I've ignored every single one."
Q hummed in agreement, turning to face him. They were standing very close and neither wanted to move away. "Well, this is interesting," Q chuckled. "I'm pleasantly surprised."
"Did you think I would run?"
"Once or twice. I'm glad you didn't." He fell silent, biting his lower lip thoughtfully, then taking the decision he pressed his lips to Bond's cheek leaving behind a red print. "Thank you."
"You're welcome." He shuffled his feet, smiling at the floor. "Q-?"
"We'll talk later I promise." Q squeezed his fingers. "After the mission."
Bond groaned. "So you're really forcing me to wax?"
"I'm afraid so."