VII

Steps


James awoke to the smell of someone cooking food.

His first instinct was to reach for his gun—he was used to waking up alone in his flat, especially at six in the morning. Then memories from last night rushed in, and he relaxed, recalling Q's slight embarrassment when he came out of the bathroom in James's clothes, the takeaway dinner, and the simple invitation to stay the night. Not to do anything, just to sleep.

He silently watched Q from behind while leaning against the doorframe; the other had his attention split between the laptop on the counter and the food in the frying pan. The sweats were too large on him, and the sweatshirt was slipping off, exposing pale skin on one shoulder.

He really hadn't expected Q to show up last night. Or at all, for that matter: James was well aware of what he brought to the table in a relationship, and most of it was unfavorable for anyone's health. Even when he'd watched Q deliberating on the sidewalk outside, he'd been expecting the other to finally leave.

"See something you like?"

James tilted his head, concealing his surprise at Q spotting him finally. "Perhaps. I might need to keep you in that outfit whenever you're here," he said, straightening and walking over to where Q was standing with the spatula. Kissing the other lightly, he silently wrapped his hands around Q's waist as the other went back to cooking. Resting his chin on Q's shoulder, he whispered, "And what are you making?"

"A scramble, I was going to leave you some so that I could eat and get to work on time," Q said, poking the food on the frying pan. "Unfortunately, your pantry was worse off than I thought it was."

"If you think mine is scary, you haven't seen Alec's yet. We're convinced he's got an unofficial pet living in the top cupboard," James said, reveling in the other's warmth.

"And he hasn't removed it yet because?"

"No time. Or motivation, for that matter. It scared off someone who broke into his flat while he was in the shower, so he's keeping it in case someone else comes to bother him," James said, allowing a hand to slip underneath the sweatshirt to caress the warm skin. "Are you ticklish?"

"You honestly think I'm going to answer that?" Q asked, his breath hitching slightly as James's fingers skimmed over his ribs. "James, that's not fair…"

"Last I checked, life isn't fair either," James whispered back as he rested his hand on Q's stomach and gently pushed the quartermaster back against him. "What time do you have to be in?"

"In an hour and a half. M's banned you from all active missions until you comply with Medical's monthly physical, so I suppose you can take it easy for today. Or, I don't know, make everyone's life a little easier for a change and actually go to Medical," Q said sarcastically as he began spooning the scramble into two plates.

"But where's the fun in making O'Reilly happy?" James asked, letting Q go and moving for the coffeemaker.

"You'd be surprised at how much control O'Reilly has in the other departments. When he's unhappy, he makes everyone else unhappy until he gets his way," Q said. "Now eat, get dressed and then go to Medical."

James only laughed before pouring his coffee. "Make it worth my while?" he teased.

Q raised an eyebrow, and then said, "No new missions means no new toys from me. No new toys means that you have nothing cool to destroy. Including the new car we've been outfitting for the last two weeks."

James merely shook his head, still smiling. He had to concede that one to Q.


A/N: Wearing each other's clothes.