I'm back from a packed vacation and holidays and moving most of my stuff out of my apartment. Went right into work again, so yay down time?! ANYWAY! Here's the next chapter and I'll try to keep on schedule now. ^_^
Chapter 7
When Wednesday rolled around a week after Washington, James was unencumbered by work. Professor Arnold was proving hard to crack, and his Spectre student was even worse. She'd nearly committed suicide in her cell the first night, so now she was in a soft, padded room and under constant surveillance, but James didn't expect her to crack. Anyone willing to die for their cause wouldn't betray that cause. Professor Arnold was different. He loved his work more than Spectre, and James suspected fear of the group was the strongest hinge on his jaw. That would rust eventually. It always did.
But that meant that Wednesday when Eve left the office to go meet with Q for lunch that James was waiting for her by the curb, newspaper in hand.
"I'm on lunch," she said as soon as she got level with him, her eyes out in the street and looking for a cabbie with its light on.
"What a coincidence," James replied, "I'm not even working."
With a put upon sigh, Eve turned to face him and leveled him with an expectant stare. "Honestly, James, you're about as transparent as the window in my office. You cannot come to lunch with me."
"I assure you, I had no intention of dining with you this afternoon," James assured and waved at the cab driving by behind her. It pulled over immediately and he opened the door for her. "We're just sharing a cab."
Suspicious but not wary, Eve slid into the cab and over to the far side so James could drop in beside her. Then they were off into the busy city streets, but that didn't mean she stopped throwing curious glances in James' direction. He delighted in confusing her, but halfway to their destination, he couldn't hold back his true plan.
"I think I'm quite fond of Prufrock," he admitted. "I eat lunch there rather often when I'm in the city."
"Liar," Eve fired back.
James lifted his shoulders in a shrug. "How would you know? You only ever eat there on Wednesdays."
"And how do you know I never-." She cut herself off, realizing the answer before she could finish the question. James truly had gone to the Prufrock for lunch multiple times, and Eve had never been there.
But today was Wednesday, and Eve always ate lunch at Prufrock on Wednesday. Even if he hadn't been doing his own recon, he knew as much from Q. At least once per conversation, he brought up his lunches with Eve – usually to remark that he hadn't told Eve whatever it was he was about to tell James. Q loved Eve, that much was clear, and he didn't want her to worry about him more than she already did. According to Q, it was best if Eve assumed his worst hardship was not eating or sleeping properly.
At that statement, James had the urge to point out that Q was doing his best to make sure James thought that too, but they both knew James had picked up on the things Q wasn't saying. James might not know the whole truth, but he knew enough to want Q set up on a different path. But, distracted as James was with Spectre, he hadn't made much progress on the 'save Q from Riley' plan.
"So if you're not going to have lunch with us, then what are you going to do at Prufrock?" Eve asked after a long silence. They were just pulling up to the curb.
"Honestly?" They locked eyes and he saw she did not find him amusing. "I thought I'd pretend to read the paper and eavesdrop." As if he needed to prove it, James held up his folded newspaper for her to see. The cab stopped and he popped open the door and got out while Eve paid.
"You owe me half that fare," she said when she stepped out. "Also, I think what you're doing could be called stalking."
"Or espionage. Astounding how often those two coincide." James motioned for her to enter the building and she rolled her eyes but did not argue.
For a moment, James did not follow. He hesitated on the sidewalk, putting space between them, and then stepped inside as smoothly as he could – which, everyone can attest, was quite smooth indeed. As his eyes adjusted to the new lighting, he cast his gaze around for Moneypenny and found her walking up to a small white table in the back.
James got in line for his drink and watched his colleague's back as she greeted her friend. When she sat down, James got his first look at the man sitting across from her. Man? James felt like his original assumption was closer to the truth. Q was slight in stature and his face held on strongly to his youth. He looked so much like the fledging university student James had originally labeled him based on his voice that the agent had to avert his eyes in shame.
Twenty-eight, he reminded himself. Twenty-eight. Only an eleven year difference. Eve was thirty and he thought there was nothing odd about his relationship with her. Why should it be any different with someone two years younger?
He didn't take another glimpse until after he'd ordered. As he waited for his drink, he looked over his shoulder toward the table.
Daniel was a dark haired young man with fair skin and a light dusting of freckles just above his lip on the left side. Despite signs of shaving on Daniel's part, James could make out the shadow of where Daniel's stubble was already growing in. And were those bags under his eyes or was James being overprotective?
Heidi handed him his coffee with a tiny wink and he thanked her kindly before making his way to the corner table. It was two tables away from Eve and Daniel…. Eve and Q. It was far enough away to seem commonplace and yet close enough to make out the stitching in Q's wool vest. Purple. Cute.
"-got a black eye out of the whole thing," Q was saying when James got within earshot, and he motioned toward his right eye – which was not blemished in the slightest. Q sighed and dropped his head. "I just- I don't know what more proof she needs to leave 'im, Eve. And what about the baby? I don't know what else to do."
"You can't do anything you haven't already done, Q," Moneypenny said consolingly and reached out for his arm. "All you can do is let her know you'll be there when she realizes she can do better."
"I've tried telling her-" Q began, raising his head but not his eyes.
"No." Eve shook her head. "Don't tell her you'll be there when she realizes he's an idiot. That'll just push her away. Tell her you love her. That's all. She'll get the rest."
The only response from Q was a heavy sigh. He lifted his cup of coffee to his lips and winced at the flavor as it went down, and James was reminded that Q preferred tea. Earl Gray with a spritz of lemon. The younger man's shoulder sagged under a new weight and he sighed again.
"Well we can't have you doing that," Moneypenny teased. "Sigh anymore and you'll turn into an old man before you're thirty."
Q brought his hand up quickly to rest against his chin and he bit his lip momentarily. Then he looked across at Eve and asked in a slight rush, "How old would you say is old, exactly? Since we're on the topic."
A soft laugh escaped Eve before she furrowed her brow in consideration. "I'm not sure. Forty is definitely pushing middle aged, so I suppose sixty? Why?"
"And how much older than you does someone have to be for your relationship- I mean friendship - to be considered irregular?" He lowered his hand to spin his cup and his eyes followed, embarrassment covering his face.
"Q, you're going to have to give me more to go on. What is this about, exactly?" Eve asked. While Q's eyes were down, she glanced over and made eye contact with James. Her expression clearly showed she didn't approve of him listening in to her friend's crisis. But really she should have thought of that before she arranged for the phone calls to start.
"Nothing." The dark haired man shook his head. "It's nothing. Silly, really. It's nothing."
James did not break his staring contest with Eve. Instead he just raised a quizzical eyebrow, and then it was her who rolled her eyes and sighed silently. When she looked back at Q, James saw disappointment and acceptance mix in her posture and expression.
"It's about James, isn't it?" she asked as the man in question went back to pretending to read the paper. "What was the difference again? Eleven years? I see nothing wrong with having older friends."
If James had been in the conversation, he would have smiled tightly at her for the word 'older' and then comeback with something about wisdom or experience. As it was, he had to pretend her jibe didn't annoy him. She probably knew anyway.
"Okay, sure. But what about-" Q trailed off, a frustrated groan escaping him. "Damn it, he's probably got me bugged or something."
Surprised disbelief jumped all over Eve's face. "He does NOT have you bugged. I'd wring his neck. What on Earth-?"
"You don't know what I know," Q murmured before shaking his head slightly and brushing off the topic. "No, but regardless, he's probably a horrible person in real life, right? I mean, knowing what I know, he must be well fit. Probably knows at least three languages."
Four, James thought proudly.
"Q-," Eve tried to interject, but her friend was on a train that would not be derailed.
"Bet he's over six foot tall. Blonde hair and bronze like those ridiculous romance novels Marnie used to read. And, I mean look at me, Eve! I'm barely ten stone. Even you could probably toss me in the Thames without a struggle. I mean, I'm- He probably has strings of lovers. Some kind of MacGyver misogynist, right?"
This time, Eve grabbed his wrist to shock him off his train of thought and made sure they had eye contact before she spoke. It seemed to rattle Q, but maybe that was a good thing.
"Stop," she said. "Deep breath. Now take a step back. You've never met the man in person, right?"
"Right."
"And he seems nice on the phone?"
"Well, yes. But-"
Eve didn't let him finish. She tightened her grip temporarily on his wrist and said, "Then stop doing calculations with fabricated numbers. There's nothing wrong with fancying someone older than you or someone you've never met."
Wait. What? James' grip on the paper remained relaxed through sheer willpower. This was not the type of intel he'd expected to gain from hooking himself up to this conversation. James knew he was good at seducing marks on the job, but to have somehow drawn Q in during a month's worth of calls to the point of Q fancying him? James hadn't been trying for that outcome at all. In that moment, he tried to think back over all the calls to figure out when he may have accidentally slipped into his amorous voice or exaggerated his interest in something to gain Q's affection.
He could think of no such moment. So when had this happened?
Q laughed sourly. "Don't call it a fancy," he said and ran a hand through his thick hair. "It's closer to… watching someone pull off ski jumping in the Olympics. Or a talented dancer."
"Admiration is admiration, Daniel," Eve pointed out. "And admiration is fine. Just don't get your hopes up too high."
James glanced more directly at the pair. Why not, he wanted to ask. Did Eve see some deficiency in James that made him unfit for Q's affections? He'd like the opportunity to defend himself. If Q wanted to like him, then he could.
"I'm getting mixed signals here," Q said, forehead knit in confusion. "Why not?"
"Just… What if he's not emotionally available? You said he's nearly forty and not married or seeing someone. Or perhaps he isn't into men. Or he's good for a laugh, but has problems with commitment." She said it like she didn't know James, but he felt every one of her points hit home. "I'll support you whatever you do. You know that. I'm just trying to look out for you. Like you with Marnie."
"Yeah?" Q frowned. "James doesn't hurt me."
"Not yet." Eve reached for Q again, but he pulled back. "And I hope that he never does. Just… keep an open mind. Alright?"
"Yeah, alright." But he said it begrudgingly and then shook his arm out to move his sleeve so he could look at his watch. "I have to be going. Riley'll have my head if I'm not back on time. Some big project coming in today that he needs me on."
He grabbed his bag and pushed himself to his feet, Eve slowly mimicking him.
"Q," she tried again. His coffee was still half-full.
"I'll call you later," he said and moved to leave.
But when he did, his bag caught on a chair at the neighboring table, knocking that table over into James' table and thus tipping James' coffee into his lap. The blonde man dropped his paper and stood quickly, the coffee cup smashing onto the floor.
"Oh my god!" Q exclaimed and quickly grabbed the napkins from their table to bring over to James. "I am terribly sorry. I'll buy you a new coffee."
For a moment, James debated not speaking, since Q knew his voice, but that would be even more awkward. Besides, Q wasn't expecting him to be James, so even if he recognized the voice, he probably wouldn't know from where.
"Not necessary," he said, taking the offered napkins and dabbing at his soaked shirt and pants. "But thank you."
"Are you sure?" Q asked as he righted the tables. Under his breath he mumbled, "This is why I never did athletics."
"Positive," James assured, and now a worker from Prufrock was entering the fray, and it was time to stop pushing his luck and make a getaway. "I was just leaving anyway. Excuse me."
With one last look at Eve, one lingering look at Q, and only a minor interaction with the staff, James turned and left the café. He knew when a mission was bust, and this one was bust in three ways. Q had directly interacted with him and heard his voice; Eve had gotten under his skin while expressing her doubts about Q's continued affections; and, most troubling of all, James found it more and more difficult not to look over at Q the longer the conversation went on.
The safest move was to abandon the position. And abandon he did. He didn't stop until he'd returned home and changed clothes. And even then he found a way to be disgustingly disappointed in himself, because though he was sitting in his arm chair and facing the city, his fingers just kept sitting by the handset on his side table, waiting for it to ring.
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