Sorry for the delay. I was incredibly ill this past week (I'm not kidding. A whole week. Including Christmas.) I could barely get from my bed to the couch without wanting to throw up some days. But I'm on the mend and can finally post. Unfortunately this kills my plan to be done on New Year's Day, but what can you do? Anyway, enjoy!


Chapter 15

The camera had a perfect view of 004 heading into the building. He was on guard but quick, and he made minimal mistakes, if any. Unlike James, he had a preference for keeping things as quiet as possible. As such, he took longer to complete a mission, but often it involved less gun shots and flaming cars. So there was that. He was a stellar operative.

In M's office, alongside Moneypenny, Q, and R, James watched the footage from 004's mission to locate and detain Ernst Blofeld. They had no cameras from inside the small residence the target was meant to be taking refuge in, just the street camera meant for traffic, not security.

After just a minute of 004 being inside, the screen erupted in light. In its wake was a building on fire, windows busted and door blown off into the street. Someone murmured out their shock, but James was tense where he stood and didn't bother using brain power to figure out who. Their man had been inside. 004 was dead.

"We have a team up there now, searching for any bodies. Best case is Blofeld went out in the blast, a murder suicide situation. But knowing the kind of man Blofeld is and the types of operations he has been part of in the past…" Mallory let the idea hang in the air as the feed finally ended and the screen went dark.

In the time after the video ended, everyone usually paused for a moment of silence, but not this time. Q stepped forward, surprising literally everyone, and said, "I'll find him, sir. He won't get away with what he's done."

"While I admire your enthusiasm, young man, we're a team here. We'll catch him together," M said and set his hand on a small remote. Instantly, the screen was retracted into the ceiling. "Also, us old fogies tend to like our dramatic silences. Next time, give it a minute before making your bold declarations. That way you show you're as serious as an old man while retaining your youthful gusto appropriately."

"Yes… Sir?" Q agreed warily and James couldn't help but smile slightly.

Mallory sighed as though the answer disappointed him and then woke his laptop up with a quick swipe of his finger over the mouse pad. "Well, I don't know what you're all still doing here. The silence is over. The time for dramatics is passed. Get back to work. We have a madman to catch."

The group shuffled from the room, except James. A Double O never shuffled. He strode. Gracefully. Obviously. Eve was assuring Q that Mallory wasn't actually annoyed with him. "He was just being an over dramatic old man." From within the office they heard a muffled, "I heard that." And they all showed their amusement in different ways. Eve and Q laughed. R smirked. James let the corner of his mouth twitch up.

"So, hero of the moment, ready to head to R&D and start working on finding our mad man?" R asked, clapping Q on the shoulder like a brother-in-arms.

"Of course." Q smiled at her, and James felt annoyingly jealous of the fact.

Sure, Q had said he was James' Daniel just the previous day, but he still felt like there was this new wall between them. It was as if meeting in person had dulled Q's admiration for James. Making their relationship 'real' had made it weaker. But the most annoying part for James was that he didn't know how to fix it. Was it him? Was seeing James fight and threaten people a turn-off? Was he too old now that Q saw him in person? They'd spent a night together, cuddled on the couch, and yet Q felt farther away than James had ever experienced before.

"I'll be in the fencing room," James said to no one in particular. He met Q's eye before turning to leave, and Moneypenny wished him luck as she returned to her desk.

"Okay?" R replied, rolling her eyes and then shaking her head. "You'll get used to that, Q. Double O's think the whole building needs to know what they're doing when they're here. It's like 'whoo hoo. You're actually working.' It's like they forget we have eyes on every floor."

James was out the door into the hall before she finished ranting. He stood for the elevator, hands clasped behind his back, and mentally cursed technology as he watched the number above the doors move slowly, slowly, slowly up to meet him.

Someone entered the hall with him, and he recognized Q by the weight of his steps. The younger man came to stand beside him, also facing the elevator, and they watched the number change twice before he finally spoke. He pushed his glasses further up his nose and made a thoughtful sound.

"You know, I've always fancied learning to fence," he said.

"What, a rich young man like yourself?" James teased. "Whatever in the world kept you from picking it up?"

Q smiled ironically and looked up at James. "Never quite had the time." He waited until James turned his head to look down at him, and then his smile turned almost deceptively sweet. "I suppose if I had a good teacher, I could be a quick learner."

"Oh?" The agent smirked with a sense of admiration in the quirk of his lips.

The elevator binged and the doors slid open. Q entered first and then turned around and stood at attention, like a good little soldier. Of course his posture was atrocious, but he was making an effort. Chuckling, James stepped into the lift and hit the button for the training floor.

"Well I hope your manhunt has time penciled in for you to gain a few bruises," he said as they descended. "I don't intend to go easy on you."

"Well that's rather rude, isn't it?" Q said more than asked, and James found himself chuckling again.


"How familiar are you with Rock, Paper, Scissors?" James asked as soon as he and Q were suited up. They decided to forego the masks to make talking easier, and James had ensured they had the sparring room to themselves so Q wouldn't feel watched.

"I believe everyone in the world knows the game pretty extensively, James," Q replied dryly and shifted his foil back and forth between his hands, tip up toward the ceiling like he was afraid James would attack at any moment.

"Then you're already equipped to understand fencing." James motioned to Q's foil and then to his own, which was held limply in a non-aggressive position. After a second, Q lowered the tip of his blade. "For attacks, the basics work like Rock, Paper, Scissors. In fencing, we call it the Tactical Wheel. Each tactic is set up to be defeated by the next tactic. The key is to use the appropriate tactic in your counter."

He then proceeded to explain the different tactics: the Simple Attack, Parry and Riposte, Compound attack, Attack on Preparation, Counter Time, Feint in Tempo, and back to the Simple Attack. "When your opponent starts gaining the upper hand, one tactic is to spin the wheel. Switch which tactics are your go-to set. Of course, if you're not skilled, switching tactics mid-bout can be risky, if not lethal. Fencing is designed not to be deadly, but you'll definitely lose the bout."

"How do you win a bout?"

"Generally, a bout ends when one player scores fifteen points through touches – in the case of foils, a touch means you must strike your opponent on their torso with only the tip of your blade. In other words, you must hit me as though you would pierce my body if you were fighting with a sharpened weapon." At Q's concerned expression, James smiled slightly. "Don't worry. We're using training foils. They're virtually harmless. Now let's teach you how to implement the tactics."

He motioned for Q to get into stance and then couldn't help looking amused as the other took up a stance that would only be useful in long sword battles.

"In fencing, you always begin with a salute." He demonstrated by standing tall, bringing his foil up in front of his right eye, and then sweeping the blade down and to the right, causing a whistling sound of air. Then he sheathed his foil. "Now you."

Less graceful, Q imitated the move. His blade tapped the floor at the end of his sweep, and the whistle wasn't as obvious, but they could work on the specifics of the salute later.

"Then get into 'en garde' position." Again, he demonstrated; body angled slightly sideways from Q, feet shoulder-width apart, front foot pointed straight out and back foot sideways. His right arm was loose and prepped to grab his sword. His left arm went out behind him, raised up at shoulder height and slightly bent, prepped to balance all his moves.

This part, Q imitated rather perfectly. After that, he ran Q through each set of tactics. First he would show how one was properly executed, then have Q do it to him a few times. Then he would move on to show the counter to that move. Two hours passed before they realized, and then the intercom by the door beeped loudly.

"Q, you're needed in I.T.," R called out. Of course she knew he was still there. She'd probably checked the cameras. There was at least one in each room.

"I'll be right down," Q called back, and the intercom beeped again to signal the end of the call.

Seeing Q the way he was after training, sweat building up under his hair, his shoulders rising and falling with heavy breaths, his glasses threatening to slip down his nose at every turn, and his skin a slight heated pink from exertion – James found himself attracted even more to the programmer, and, of course, even more jealous of R's ability to pull him away.

"You should shower before you go," he said. "We've worked up quite a sweat, and I'm sure R wouldn't be pleased with you stinking up her lab."

Q took a moment to look down at his body, as though he could see himself sweating through the fencing gear, and then he shrugged. "I suppose you do have a point. A quick shower would do us both good, I think."


They showered as far from one another as possible, with roughly seven shower stalls between them. Okay, maybe Q picked his stall first and James purposely chose the one at the farthest end. But he was trying to be a gentleman. Gentleman who actually cared about their relationships let their less experienced, emotionally dampened significant others recover in peace and privacy and did not snoop on them in the shower. This was a noted difference from when James was a gentleman on mission, where he smoothly seduced and played into the emotions of whoever he needed to and would undoubtedly slip into the shower with them at a moment's notice.

When he was dry enough, James slipped on a loose pair of trackies that he kept in his bag. As he toweled his hair, he weighed the pros and cons of wearing them home. It wasn't that he cared if people saw him in non-business attire, more that he got more respect on the tube if he wore the suit.

Oh well. He didn't want to change again, so he'd just go home comfortable.

There was a noise outside of his towel, like someone being shocked but holding the sound in the back of their throat. When James pulled the towel back, he saw Q standing a few feet in front of him, fresh out of the toilet and dressed in his slacks and button up. He held his jumper in his hand, and his hair was tousled. James only gently scolded his mind for taking the time to properly admire the look.

"You look fetching," he said when it became obvious Q wasn't going to speak first. The hand holding the jumper tightened slightly, and James frowned. "R will approve."

With a roll of his eyes and a disgruntled sigh, Q said, "James, sometimes I do believe you may set a record for idiocy."

James shrugged and turned toward the locker he was currently using. It seemed he had made a mistake complimenting Q, and he didn't understand how. The programmer looked profoundly attractive, downright delectable, and James just wanted to run his fingers through that wet hair. Perhaps Q wasn't the type to be won with compliments on his physical appearance?

Towel around his shoulders, he reached in his locker for his shirt, but a hand stopped him. Q was by his side, hand light but decided around James' wrist.

"I'm not a child," he said, soft but determined. His words sounded like a declaration. "And I won't break under pressure. Not from this job, not from Charlie,… and not from you."

"What are you-?" James began. But before he could continue, Q's grip on his wrist tightened and the smaller man turned the seasoned agent around, crowding him against the lockers. Then he leaned up into James' space and pressed their lips together.

With all the grace of an experienced Casanova, James slid his free hand up on Q's cheek and pushed back into the kiss. He moved to urge Q's lips open, but then they already were, and James found himself on the submissive side of the interaction. It was a pleasant surprise, both being led through the dance as well as the fact that Q did the inviting.

James hummed and pulled back, his hand keeping Q from following. For a moment, he looked down at Q, simply admiring what they'd just done, what it could mean. Then Q's eyebrows knit together, his mouth started to tug down, and James finally cracked a small smile. He leaned down and kissed Q soft and quick.

"Daniel," he said. "I'm afraid you'll leave R waiting if you keep this up."

"James," the other mocked. "She's waited long enough already. Another few moments won't break the country."

With a short laugh, James said, "Unfortunately, in our line of work, it ultimately could." He caressed Q's cheek once and then dropped his hand. "You should go see R. I'll wait and we can go home when you're done."

Q rolled his eyes. Youth today was so impolite. "Fine. But once we're there, we're going to have a serious discussion about unnecessary delays."

And maybe Q wasn't as scared and sensitive as James expected. Maybe he wasn't as damaged as James had feared. He was the same brilliant programmer that had helped give James an anchor outside of work these fantastic past three months.


Thanks for reading!