Disclaimer: I don't own "James Bond" or any of the 007 characters, wishful thinking aside.
Authors Note #1: I wanted to do a little OOQ wing fic and got carried away. Inspired by the following prompt: "Humans can not fix the problem because humans are the problem."
Warnings: angel!Q, mild language, canon appropriate violence, drama, angst, romance, pining, wing fic, religious themes and references, angels and demons.
Suspire
Chapter Four
The sound of fluttering wings - like a startled dove - filled the air behind him. Bringing his head up as the silence steadied him. One beat. Then two. Three. Four. Nothing. He breathed through it as caution rang the usual alarms. Completely overshadowed by the feeling that sent a name out prematurely. So sure it didn't seem impossible until it was out in the open.
"Q?" he whispered, mangled through the gag.
He wasn't sure what made him say it. He couldn't have known it was him. Just like he didn't know why Q was suddenly all he could taste and breathe. But it came out in a whisper regardless. Echoing for longer than it should have before a fractured inhale joined it. Pinched. Soft. And mildly annoyed. He smiled into the soaked leather. He didn't have to look in the dingy mirrors the ran the length of the room to know who would be standing there. Somehow, he just knew.
"...Q."
The syllable couldn't have been recognizable. But like a pattern of impossible things, there was a stuttered, flayed-open sigh that answered all the same.
How?
How?
How?
Familiar hands tangled with the ties of the gag. Competent and quick with callouses he'd know anywhere. Even if it was just from the occasional brush when Q passed over a new piece of tech or a gun he'd personalized just for him.
He'd never seen rough callouses on such soft hands. At first it had irritated him. It hadn't fit with his initial assumptions when it'd come to the boy who'd sat primly beside him in the Museum. Confident and seemingly having all the answers while his life had been messily falling apart. It wasn't until later that he realized it wasn't that simple. Because Q's hands weren't just soft, they were criss-crossed with scars and burn-mark splotches. Evidence of hours bent over bits of tech, wielding sharp metal and a soldiering iron.
They were a metaphor for Q himself.
That he was more than he appeared.
And that had never seemed more true than right now.
Because Q was here, quiet and careful behind him. Half a world away from where he should be - with time zones that didn't match up. Because it was Q and not someone else. Not another 00 Agent, not Moneypenny or Tanner. It was Q who'd appeared behind him when he'd been looking at the only door for hours. Q who-
Something the leader said came rippling back.
No!
The gag fluttered off.
"Trap...Q, it's a trap," he rasped, voice hoarse as the air around the door warped like heat waves on a hot day. A hallmark to direct action as the door swung open and the bastard himself appeared in the door way. Grin impossibly wide. Showing off a mouthful of too sharp teeth and-
Q stiffened behind him.
Like he was afraid.
That was what worried him the most.
A/N: Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think. There will be more to come.