EPILOGUE
James' entire attention was focussed on the nape of Arthur's neck, face buried in his hair, hands firmly latched onto his hips. Arthur rummaged distractedly in his pockets for his own key.
"Christ, James…," he fumbled, "If you could give me a moment…" He fell through the door and against the side of the wall in the hallway, firmly pinned by an unyielding agent, who was frankly going above and beyond the call of duty for Q and Country, himself having a rather difficult time catching his breath.
He braced himself and adopted his levelest Quartermaster tone. "Stand down, 007."
James stilled and leaned back to look at a physically dishevelled Quartermaster whose eyes, sparkling with arousal as they were, held a very convincing look of composure. Well, this is new…
James stepped back and continued to step back, shedding his tie, his jacket and unbuttoning his shirt as he went, never taking his eyes off Arthur. Q followed a few metres in his wake and stood at the bottom of the stairs, watching James' back ascend taking each step slowly one by one, unbuckling his belt as he climbed, before undoing his trousers. He paused at the top of the stairs to look down.
The test of each other's self control was the most delicious of experiences. James wondered if he was being subjected to a form of subversive field training that Q-Division were currently testing. Q, the epitome of calm and patience remained at the bottom of the stairs, hands in pockets, still fully clothed.
"Well?" he asked quietly, raising his eyebrows. "What are you waiting for, Bond?"
James turned away with a smile and entered his bedroom, discarding the rest of his clothes and lay down on the bed.
He didn't have to wait long.
Q appeared in the doorway, a slim and radiant silhouette, less than a minute later. James stayed still while Q moved to and stood at the bottom of the bed, studying him from head to toe and back up again, slowly and deliberately. As accustomed as he was to being admired physically, James was fairly certain he had never been subjected to such a thorough, lingering scrutiny.
It was, needless to say, having exactly the desired effect Q was going for.
Q removed his own clothes, in much the same way Bond imagined he would strip down the component parts of a weapon. He briefly wondered if he would be in for the same treatment. He climbed onto the bed to straddle the agent beneath. He looked momentarily sombre. "I never want to lie to you, James. About anything. But I fear the nature of our jobs will demand that that will happen in due course."
Bond knew this was a subject they would return to time and time again, but one that they would piece together over the course of that time. It would never be forced, never be cause for a rift between them. They both recognised in each other brothers in an unseen war not of their own making. Brothers who had a responsibility to care for each other's needs and watch each other's backs, because fuck it if life wasn't complicated enough already.
"The job comes first, Q. That is a given," he said, kissing the jaw that descended to meet Bond's lips, the heat and want dragging Arthur down. "I know Arthur Clifton would never lie with the intention of deliberately hurting anyone, and as Quartermaster I trust you completely."
"I hope I can live up to that trust."
Steel blue eyes, momentarily molten by affection, held the changing hue of Arthur's gaze. "You already do."
He crawled out of bed in the pre-dawn haze and headed for the bathroom, catching his reflection in the full length mirror on his way there. He paused. Scrawny, thought Arthur to himself.
"Compact," echoed a counter voice from the bed, as though Bond had been reading his mind.
Q scoffed in verbal retaliation. "Says the blur from the bed. Which is how you appear to me at the moment without my glasses, even if there was full light."
"Well that can only bode well for me. The vaseline effect I'm told takes years off a body."
"Funny, James," Arthur quipped back, sparing him a brief glance and a quirk of a smile in the reflection of the mirror as he carried on to fulfil his initial intent.
"So. Morocco…" A not-so-deft change of subject by Q.
"Morocco," James muffled response from the depths of his pillow. "How long did you say since Foley went dark?"
"Fourteen hours. Of course, M betrays no worry that he may have been compromised."
"The woman is a rock," said James.
"And you are a hard place," replied Q, heading back towards the bed.
"Must be cosy for you," said James with a smile, as Arthur climbed under cover, just as James climbed out.
"Quite," Arthur said curtly.
Bond threw on fresh clothes while Q silently looked on. God, this is nice, was his singularly contented thought. "See you in Division in a couple of hours for kitting out for Morocco then, 007?"
Bond turned and smiled. It was warm, genuine. In his own way, content. "Look forward to it, Quartermaster."
END
The Quartermaster and his Agent will return
in
MORE THAN JUST A LETTER
