I was listening to Billy Joel and then 00Q happened. It was a drabble, but it sort of expanded. Um. Unbeta-ed bit of word-vomit, feedback appreciated.

Q fascinates him at the same time as he terrifies him. James is well used to people whose appearance means they're forever underestimated, but Q never ceases to amaze him, and James is in over his head.

The best thing to do would be to stop it. To stop all of it now, before it goes too far.

But even having his heart broken by Q would be better than losing him now.

He's not in love. He can't be.

Shit.

He is, isn't he?

This last job was fucked from the start, decides James as he limps down Q's street. Someone will have to do something about the agent at the embassy – James is sure he's crooked, but he's got no proof. Apart from the fact that they knew it was him coming for them.

Although maybe that was a blessing. If Quantum hadn't known to expect James Bond, he'd be dead by now.

Q's home. He can see him through the window, because he's forgotten to close the blinds, again. He's obviously engrossed in whatever he's doing on his laptop, because he doesn't hear James on the fire stairs, or him picking the lock. He finally looks up as James is easing himself through the window.

'When… oh, you've been shot. Lovely.'

'Knife, actually,' manages James as Q manhandles him into the bathroom and gently down onto the toilet seat. 'It's not deep, Q, don't –'

'If you think I'm not going to worry, you're madder than I thought,' mutters Q, pushing off James's coat – his shoulder protests, he had to dislocate it to get out of the cell yesterday and it still hurts – and starts on the buttons of his shirt. 'Oh – what have you done, James?'

'I was improvising – watch it!' he hisses as Q tugs off the tape he'd used to seal the wound.

They don't talk as Q cleans, stitches and covers the cut. James doesn't think he can tell Q about what happened in Brussels – suffice to say he never wants to go there again. Q heard most of it, anyway.

Enough of James's clothes have migrated into Q's cupboards for Q to find him some pyjamas and help him change. James is too exhausted to protest that he doesn't need help – he'd be lying anyway, he's been awake for about five days now, running on adrenaline for the last two.

They go to bed, and Q curls up against James's good side. A combination of a friendly weight beside him, bone deep exhaustion and painkillers sends him into a deep sleep.

Q wakes at six the next morning. James is muttering in his sleep beside him, so Q leaves him to it. God knows he needs rest, and it's better for him to get it through sleep than through moping around the flat in silence, the way he always is after missions like the one he's just completed. Q's used to it by now, James's silent form of coping (although he put his foot down after the first time, when James ended up blind drunk – no more alcohol), and the language he's speaking without saying a word, the language Q needs to be fluent in to look after him during those times.

James is still asleep when he gets out of the shower, so Q pads bare-footed into the living room. He could keep polishing the decryption program one of his best coders has been working on, but he finds himself drawn to the piano instead.

It's an old baby grand that used to belong to his mother. He hasn't played in far too long, keeps it tuned out of duty more than anything, but now he runs his fingers over the keys. Why not? He's got nothing else to do.

Scales are easy, so he tries some Bach to see how his co-ordination is. It comes back to him easily enough, but it doesn't flow properly. He plays an awful chord out of pure frustration, but stops it quickly. He can hear James in the bathroom. James has never heard Q play, probably thinks the piano is just there for decoration.

His fingers have been moving unconsciously, and he recognises a song he hasn't played in years. He still knows it by heart.

He lifts his hands to start the song again, but then senses – when did he start being able to tell precisely where James is in a room without looking? – that he's being watched. James is standing in the doorway, and he's looking at Q with such intensity that it turns him scarlet. Q stares back, wishing he knew why he was being looked at like that, but not daring to ask and end the moment.

James murmurs 'keep playing,' and while Q obliges, James crosses the room to stand behind him. When Q reaches the verse he opens his mouth to sing automatically – again, why the hell not, you only live once – and begins:

In every heart there is a room, a sanctuary safe and strong…

James shifts closer, and then, much to Q's surprise, joins in.

To heal the wounds from lovers past, until a new one comes along.

They sing the entire song. James's voice isn't too bad, though it's low and raspy and not really suited to the song, but he knows it better that Q. Q doesn't know what this is, doesn't dare look up from the keys. He feels like he's standing on the edge of a dark room, with no way of knowing what's inside.

As the last chords fade Q finally looks up. James is staring out the window, and Q is sure that for a moment there are tears in his eyes.

'James?' Q twists his thin fingers through James's calloused ones. He wonders who is anchoring who. Or are they both about to step out into the dark? 'Are you alright?'

James shakes his head. 'Yeah… I think I just realised something.'

Then he kisses him, and Q thinks, Oh.

Here is the wonderfully sad song that inspired this: And So It Goes by Billy Joel youtube: watch?v=FHO6a2H-pqY

There is also a tiny-teeny Millennium Trilogy reference in this, ten points if you can spot it.