It was almost embarrassing, how easily Q fell into a routine. Those who looked down on him might say he was meant to take orders (those assholes, luckily, were few and far between). Others might feel pity for him because he chose to stay with an employer who was arrogant and who had already abused his power over Q on more than one occasion. Q himself sometimes wondered why he stayed with James.

The banker was still wild and arrogant, there was no changing that. He would always drink and he would always find a reason to party. But…

But there was less of it. At least, less of it when Q advised him. And Q was finding the courage to speak out against his boss more. He didn't do it often, but there were times when Q needed to be the voice of reason ("No, you can't drink vodka during a meeting!") or be James's conscience ("Don't go party the night before an importance meeting with a customer"). And, for the most part, James listened to him.

But there was the other problem. James. At some point, his employer had stopped being "Mr. Bond" in his mind and become "James." Deep down, Q knew why that was, but refused to admit it to himself.

Then that day, as he came in to work, there was another bouquet of flowers on his desk. Expecting another bout of allergies, Q has asked the intern to dispose of them. The intern just chuckled.

"You won't have a problem with these flowers, Q." He had said.

Curious, Q approached his desk. The flowers (burgundy roses) were silk. There was a note attached, "I hope you like these better than the other flowers. They're almost as beautiful as you. ~James"

Alarm bells started going off in Q's mind, along with a bright sign flashing "WARNING!" This was crossing the lines of professionalism, this could ruin his career. If he and James…if they had an affair (could he call it that? Neither of them were married), it could ruin them both.

Then why was his heart racing at the thought? Why were his cheeks flushed at the thought of being on James's arm like his latest conquest?

He was doomed. He couldn't even look James in the eye as they began working.

But James…didn't mention the flowers. Not once all during the day. In fact, he was perfectly behaved. Q only had to remind him not to drink on the job once, a new record. And by the end of the day, Q was at his wit's end trying to figure out what had happened to his boss.

"Tell Marci that I will be unable to make it to the meeting in Cardiff tomorrow, but I will be sending Alec, he is more than capable of handling the portfolio." James told Q, not looking up from his computer on his desk.

"Already done, Mr. Bond." Q nodded, typing away on his Blackberry, "And don't forget, you have a benefit to go to tomorrow night, you will not be missing it."

"Of course," James nodded, "The Widows and Orphans of War foundation. Thank you for reminding me. What would I do without you?"

"Crash and Burn." Q teased, smiling softly. He looked at the clock on the wall. It was two hours after he "officially" stopped his shift, but…it wasn't unusual for him to work longer. That being said, he needed to get some sleep. "Anything else, Mr. Bond?"

There was silence in the office, James had stopped typing. Suddenly, Q could hear his own heartbeat in his ears. James stood slowly, watching Q.

"…Mr. Bond?" Q asked and, to his embarrassment, his voice cracked slightly as his employer crossed the room.

James was in front of him now, his trademark smirk on his face, "Did you like the flowers?"

Now Q knew he was in trouble, "Um…y-yes…they didn't make me sneeze." He gulped.

"I'm glad." James nodded, "I do hope you got the note too."

"Yeah…not your best pick up line…" Q tried to be lighthearted about the situation, but inside, he was panicking.

James smirked, "Perhaps," a hand reached out, resting on Q's hip, "But maybe I can work on that."

It was then Q decided he would not let James walk all over him, as his employeror as a man, "I am not one of your conquests, Mr. Bond—"

"James." His employer interrupted, "Call me James." He chuckled, "And I'm well aware you're not a stripper, debutant, groupie, model, or even a woman for that matter. You're Q, the one person who keeps my world from spinning out of control. You're Superman without the tights…though I wouldn't say no to some role play sometime." He winked.

Q was bright red, "I-I'm just doing my job…James." He cleared his throat, "Anything else?"

James smirked, "Just you, Q." he murmured, tilting Q's chin up and kissing him softly.

Q should have fought back, should have defended his reputation as a PA, insisted he wasn't easy.

But he really didn't want to.