It was almost uncanny, how easily Bond and Q slid back into the friendship they had established. Q remained in Bond's ear on missions — sometimes wry, sometimes philosophical, but always there when he was needed, calm and decisive no matter the crisis. Bond's mission success rate was unparalleled, his injuries sustained minimal, and he knew that he had Q to thank for that.
Between missions Bond lurked around HQ more than ever before, chatting with Q over the earpiece or lingering in Q-Branch. Q had his own office, walled in smart glass that turned from clear to opaque with the touch of a button. If the electronic lock was green Bond had carte blanche to enter, and he often exercised that privilege. After the third time coming upon Q asleep at his desk, Bond had left silently and returned an hour later with 006, each of them carrying one end of a massive leather sofa.
Q had sprung awake as they muscled the couch through the narrow doorway and into the office, his cheek endearingly bearing the imprint of the buttons from his cuff and his hair sticking up in all directions from the fretful hand he ran through it.
"007! What...?"
"A little to the left," Bond instructed Trevelyan. "Yes, a bit more. Right. Q, you'd better move that rack of servers..."
Q jumped to the defense of his precious servers, rolling them over a touch as Bond and Alec set the sofa down with relieved sighs. Bond sketched a quick salute in Alec's direction. Alec nodded to Q, his grass-green eyes brightly amused, and left while Bond settled himself on the couch.
"What...where did this even come from?" Q managed, still blinking sleepily. "Is that...wasn't that in...?"
"Mallory was redecorating," Bond said suavely. He lolled back ostentatiously, crossing his arms behind his head.
Q prodded suspiciously at the unoccupied end of the sofa as if it might jump up and bite him. "Was he really?"
Bond cast Q a sidelong glance. "Well, he will now."
Q's laugh was unexpected and delightful. He sat down on the other end of the sofa, carefully mimicking Bond's sprawling posture. "It is comfortable," he acknowledged, still shaking from time to time with suppressed mirth.
"Mmmm," Bond agreed, closing his eyes.
"I'm never getting you out of my office now, am I?" Q said with a smile in his voice. Bond just smiled in return, settling in.
Q-Branch was dark, only a single pool of light illuminating Q's standing desk. The last of the overachieving minions had fled an hour ago as the clock edged past midnight. R was napping in medical, waiting to be called in, but Q had insisted on remaining on duty until 009 had checked in from Port Said.
Bond had pulled up one of the other desk chairs and was turning it in lazy circles back and forth. He had just finished telling Q stories of his own travels in Egypt. He idly thought of a particular little coffee shop in Luxor that he would love to take Q to...
Moneypenny had joined them on this particular nightwatch, Mallory having asked for an update on 009's mission as soon as he reported in. She had been amusing herself with her mobile, but now she groaned dramatically.
"This is intolerable," she whinged. "I hate waiting."
"I can text you when 009 reports," Q said patiently. "It's not like your mobile is ever out of your hands."
"I have a better idea," she said with a mischievous grin. She pushed her chair back, settling her stiletto-clad feet up on a nearby desk. "Entertain me. Tell me something exciting."
"Exciting?" Q repeated blankly.
"Dirty," Eve specified.
"Did I ever tell you about that time in Milan..." Bond began.
"Not you, Bond," Eve interrupted impatiently. "Your sexual exploits are a matter of public record. I want to know about the boffin."
Bond looked at Eve sharply and then to Q. Eve didn't seem to notice the slight tension that had stiffened Q's spine, but to Bond it was as obvious as a neon sign.
"I am singularly unexciting, I assure you, Moneypenny," Q said dismissively. Despite the new tension in his muscles he carefully maintained his slump-shouldered position over his standing desk, his eyes cast down at his keyboard.
"Oh, don't be a bore, Q," Eve retorted jovially. "I bet underneath all those cardigans you're a veritable tiger. C'mon, share something with the class. First love, first snog, anything...oh don't blush, Q, surely you've got something to add to our little late-night confessional?"
"You're being a pest, Moneypenny," Bond rumbled, keeping his voice casual. He was trying hard not to overreact, knowing that Moneypenny wasn't acting maliciously. She was just being remarkably oblivious, and he knew Q would not appreciate Bond drawing attention to the situation by jumping to his defense.
"Fine, then," Eve huffed. She looked downcast for a moment, and then her face brightened. "Celebrity crushes. Tell me, Q, do you fancy a Kate Beckinsale, or are you more the Cheryl Cole type?" Q continued to stare down at his keyboard, his brow furrowed.
"Or...oh!" Eve pulled her feet off the desk, sitting up eagerly. "Do you share my obsession with the utter deliciousness that is Benedict Cumberbatch? Those eyes..." She closed her own eyes, shivering dramatically.
"Who is that, then?" Q asked, the strain in his voice under the casual tone painfully obvious to Bond, but apparently not to Moneypenny.
Eve's eyes flew open. "You don't know who Benedict Cumberbatch is? My god, Q, do you live in a cave?!"
Q shrugged.
"Never mind him, then," Eve said. "What type do you fancy, Q? Because I know almost every unattached staff member in MI6..."
Q's hands had moved from the keyboard to the edge of the desk, and now they tightened, knuckles whitening with strain.
"Enough," Bond finally snapped, his voice low and furious.
Q finally raised his head, his vivid green eyes locking on Bond, the expression in them unreadable. The air between them seemed heavy and charged with emotion.
Eve looked at Bond in surprise. "Oh," she said. She sounded suddenly hesitant. "Q, did I..."
"009, reporting." The deep voice over the comm system made them all jump.
Lips pressed in a tight line, Q punched a button on his desk. "Q here, go ahead."
"Objective achieved. I have the documents in my possession. Had to leave in a hurry, though, hopped a cargo ferry to Athens. Can you arrange a new passport for travel from that departure point?"
"I'll update Mallory," Eve said, casting them both an apologetic look. "Good night, all." She was already dialing her mobile as her high heels clicked out of the room.
"I certainly can," Q informed 009. "Putting the booking through now, Agean Airlines flight 600, leaving at 09:15. Will that give you enough time to stop by the British Embassy for your new documents?"
Bond tuned them out as they finalized the arrangements, his mind still dwelling on Moneypenny's line of inquiry and his own excessive reaction. Christ, he had embarrassed himself, and from Q's stiff expression he had embarrassed Q as well.
Q signed off with 009 and called R in to cover the Branch. Bond watched as Q packed up his messenger bag and tidied his desk, before following Bond to the parking garage in strained silence. It was understood that Bond would be giving Q a ride home, he did most nights that they were both at HQ late. Bond wondered now when exactly that pattern had been established.
Bond pulled out of the garage. Q gazed out his window, showing Bond only the curve of his cheekbone and the long, vulnerable stretch of his pale neck. Bond swallowed, and shifted his eyes resolutely back to the road. Even London had minimal traffic at this hour. They would be at Q's gate in fifteen minutes, but Bond cracked after the the first five.
"I didn't mean to..." he said, just as Q started speaking as well.
"You can go ahead and ask..." Q was saying.
They exchanged a glance. Q's mouth quirked, and Bond huffed a soft laugh.
"It's your business, Q," Bond said carefully. But goddammit, he wanted to know. Needed to know, if he was honest with himself.
Q shrugged. "I don't mind. You already know the worst of it."
Bond mulled that over, wondering if it was statement of a simple fact or an invitation. Did Q want to talk?
"Would you say that you are...asexual, then?" Bond hazarded. The word seemed awkward, unfamiliar in his mouth.
Q's laugh was sharp and bitter. "God, no. Convenient as that would be, I have a perfectly functioning libido. One of life's little ironies, I suppose."
Bond made a thoughtful hum. "So you..."
Q's look was scathing. "Yes, I wank, 007. Honestly!"
Bond shrugged, trying to look unaffected by the image that conjured up. Q in his bed, the pale expanse of his body over crisp sheets, twisting underneath his own hand...
Q's eyelashes came down to shade his eyes almost shyly, a slight blush tinging his cheekbones. "And Benedict Cumberbatch is God's gift to socially isolated wankers everywhere."
Bond snorted. "And you pretended you didn't even know him!" He let that piece of information filter in. "So you're..."
"Gay. Yes," Q supplied, his voice clipped. "Is that going to be a problem?"
Now it was Bond's turn to supply the scathing look. "Why on earth would it be?"
Q shrugged, looking out the window again.
"You know, you don't have to worry about Moneypenny either, or even Mallory and the rest of them. I know what I said about office politics, but that was a different time."
"That's not..." Q ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "Trust me, I don't give a damn about potential homophobia in the workplace." He sighed, resting his head back against the seat, closing his eyes. "Moneypenny has become a hopeless romantic since she started dating that bloke in Medical. I know her type. It starts with celebrity crushes, and then moves on to 'I know a lovely young bachelor in Accounting, I'll fix you up,' and it's simply a nightmare from there. I've learned that it's easier just to...to shut people out, right from the start."
"That sounds...lonely," Bond found himself saying.
Q's eyes snapped open, angry and somehow...wounded. "I don't need your pity, 007," he gritted out.
Bond fixed him with an unwavering gaze. "It's not pity. It's just...a thank you. For letting me in, I mean."
"Oh." Q's blush intensified. "It's...easier, with you. Somehow."
Bond pondered that for awhile. He was expert at coaxing information from the unwilling, but it had never been that way with Q. Somehow he and Q just seemed to connect, right from the start, despite the frankly hideous misunderstandings along the way.
"It's easy for me too," Bond finally said, and any foolishness he felt in making that somewhat vague statement was erased by Q's luminous smile.
They drove the last few minutes in comfortable silence. Bond rattled the car across the paving stones, pulling up in front of Q's wrought-iron gate.
"Thank you for the ride, 007," Q said formally, as he did every time.
"Any time, Q," Bond said in return, as he did every time.
Q reached for the door handle, and then turned back. He seemed to hesitate for just a moment and then slowly, awkwardly, extended his right hand.
Bond stared at those pale, elegant fingers uncomprehendingly for a split second before his brain kicked into gear. You don't have to, he thought, but his eyes leaped up to Q's and something in Q's strangely hopeful gaze stopped his words.
He reached out slowly, sliding his fingers into Q's grasp. It was less of a handshake and more of a rough grip — awkward and yet oddly affecting, much like Q himself. Bond gave himself another moment to enjoy the sensation. This was the first time he had felt Q's touch on his skin since they met, and the thought of it was strangely heady.
He gave Q's hand a gentle squeeze, and drew back. Q was smiling outright, and Bond knew he was smiling in return.
"Yes. Well," Q said, as if something had been settled. "Good night, 007."
"Good night, Q."
Bond watched as Q made his way past the gate and into the house.
He sat for a few minutes in silence before turning the car and driving home in the dark night. The gear shift was smooth and responsive in the palm of his left hand. The palm of his right hand gripped the steering wheel but somehow, underneath it all, he fancied that he could still feel the echo of Q's touch.
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