A/N: Soooo...I have this insatiable love for puppy hacker types. I saw Spectre the other day, my first Bond movie post-anything that came out well before my time, and became immediately infatuated with Q. After watching Skyfall and also absorbing everything that is Q that lives on the interwebs, for no reason whatsoever while I was driving home form work, my brain went, "Omg, Q and Riley would be the most adorkable pair of all time." And then I felt all warm and fuzzy inside. So this had to be made.

I have never, in all my years of fanfic writing, created a non-canon, male/male slash relationship, especially in a crossover universe. Today I've broken all my previous boundaries and present you with what I have deemed, "Qoole" because it was too "kewl" not to create. And I kinda hope it spreads.

This was just me testing the waters, so don't get too excited about it. I'm sure there'll be longer fics to come that will be much more full of Qoole shenanigans.

Riley and Q stood in the crumbled doorway, both their shoulders slumped forward as they stared in annoyance at their respective teammates.

"So typical," Riley mumbled, watching with a little sneer as Ben and Abigail continued to try to suck each other's faces off.

"I don't know what you're complaining about," Q grumbled. "At least your's doesn't have a veritable harem of disposable partners at his beck and call."

The both turned their heads as Bond smoothly outdid Ben's performance by keeping his chosen damsel for the day dipped slightly backwards in a lengthy, can't-believe-they've-gone-this-long-without-oxygen sort of kiss.

"Does he even know that girl's name?" Riley questioned.

Q huffed at that. "Undoubtedly. 007 chooses his marks with a fantastic amount of deliberation. Not that it ever lasts. He'll have a new Bond Girl within the week, I'd wager. It's rather appalling, really."

"Appalling? It's amazing." Riley tilted his head as the woman traced her hand down Bond's spine, then his voice took on a much more whiney quality. "Why don't we ever get that? The sidekicks do all the work, and while they get the girls, we're stuck with nothing but cuts and bruises and building-dust in our hair."

He glanced at the mop of brown-turned-grey that sat atop Q's head and abruptly ruffled both his hands through it to try to knock some of the dust out. With an affronted yelp, the Quartermaster slapped Riley's arms away and made a sad attempt to smooth the mess back down.

"Superior," he bit out as he brushed the new layer of dust off his shoulders.

"What?"

"I am Bond's superior," he emphasized. "As the Quartermaster of MI6, all 00 agents are required to check in through me before and after their missions. I rank very highly in the agency, Mr. Poole, and I take pride in that. I am hardly what you would call-"

"A superior sidekick," Riley teased, mocking Q's accent in the process. "Call it what you want, but in the end, you're still stuck back here in the rubble with me while those two get all the glory."

Q pursed his lips together, seeing the truth in the statement. He may have been one of the most important people in all of Great Britain, but at the moment he was standing there with a ripped sweater, a horribly-skinned knee, a headful of concrete dust, and probably enough of the same in his lungs to have him coughing miserably for the next week. His associate hadn't faired much better, sporting a decently-wide cut on his cheek, a bleeding ear, and a burn on his hand that would take some time to heal - an unfortunate injury for a hacker to suffer. Bond and Gates, however, looked as though they had merely taken a stroll through a rather blistery storm, their hair and attire just a bit disheveled, but otherwise as put-together as ever. In their own ways, that was. Bond clearly held the upper hand in general appearance and fashion over Mr. Gates, but Q couldn't help but consider Gates to be the luckier of the two. He was the one who'd been able to accomplish what 007 never could, after all - obtaining a romantic relationship with a permanent partner. It was rather enough to make a man green with petty jealousy.

"This sucks," Riley sighed, interrupting Q's bitter thoughts.

"It's..." Q shook his head abruptly. "No, I can't even come up with a better term to describe this moment. It really does...suck, Mr. Poole."

Riley let out another dry snort at the Brit's attempt at common slang and backhanded him lightly on the arm. "Come on. Let's go remind our 'heroes of the day' that some of us still need medical attention."

"I fear they may be in need of medical attention if they don't break apart soon," Q bit out. "They are in very real danger of succumbing to asphyxiation at this point."

Both watched for another second, faces screwed into unhappy scowls, before Q took the initiative to move towards his agent. Riley was quick to follow, nearly on Q's heels as they navigated over the debris left scattered about from the explosion. They had made it only halfway over to their teammates when Q suddenly tripped over a loose stone, and Riley, in his attempt to catch the Quartermaster, only managed to make the matter worse by getting himself caught up in Q's ankle as he fell. In a fantastically clumsy effort to regain their balance, both succeeded in doing nothing more than tumbling over the other as they went down, Q somehow landing on top of Riley in the process.

And that was all it took. Pain, frustration, adrenaline, and a deep understanding formed between two people who walked very similar paths coupled with a near-death experience that ultimately led to the aforementioned people laying on the ground, almost nose-to-nose, staring into each other's eyes for the briefest of moments - it all added up to one thoughtless act of impulsive clarity:

Riley and Q, as if arriving at the exact same conclusion at the exact same time, gripped one another's heads in their hands and crashed their lips together in such a desperate, passionate array of kisses that even Bond would've been impressed had he been paying any attention to what the "sidekicks" were doing.

"Come on," Q urged breathlessly once the two broke apart enough for him to speak.

"Come on where?" Riley asked, voice equally small between shockingly (but not unwelcome) aroused pants.

Q smirked wickedly. "I built 007's car, Mr. Poole. I made certain this time to install a system that will allow me to commandeer it at my leisure."

"Cool." Riley grinned for a moment before tilting his head back just enough to confirm the whereabouts of his best friend and Q's agent. Not surprisingly, they were still...occupied with their own post-explosion, we're-still-alive celebrations. With a sure nod, he added, "I give it ten seconds before they notice we're gone."

"I'd estimate roughly seven," Q corrected. "Shall we?"

"Lead the way."

It took Bond six and a half seconds to realize his Quartermaster had mysteriously vanished...along with his car and the American, but neither Q nor Riley would bother to confirm that. They were in dire need of some "medical attention," after all, something all good heroes were privy to after a successful mission; and tonight, Q and Riley were more than ready to rise from sidekick to hero status. They'd both earned it, after all. Bond and Gates be damned.

~The End~