Hi lovely readers. I wanted this to be up more quickly than it was but that didn't happen obviously. There is a possible trigger warning in this chapter for a very short reference to sex trafficking. Enjoy!

Repressed tensions came to a head at the end of April.

Bond returned so drunk he was stumbling. That didn't stop him from climbing in through the living room window though. The commotion woke a drowsing Q and pulled him from his half-empty bed. He let out an aborted gasp at the sight of the figure now sprawled on his rug. 007 had been missing for a week and four, Q checked his watch, five days.

Shortly after the completion of his latest mission all communication had gone dead. Every map, every grid lost the black dot that meant Bond was alive and moving. Eventually the earpiece Q resolutely kept hope in lost the dull buzzing and stopping working. His agent had disappeared and there was nothing the Quartermaster could do about it but wait and hope James decided to come back this time.

(This had happened before. It wasn't his place to worry so much he was unable to sleep. Life had gone on during Bond's last stint as a dead man and it would go on this time. Worry wouldn't help and certainly wouldn't bring James back to him and sooner than the old dog chose. He needed to sleep. MI6 and 004 needed all of his faculties for the morning. If only he could sleep. If only he didn't care so damn much.)

And now here was the source of so many sleepless nights and exhaustive days, pitiful in his inebriation. Q hadn't seen James quite this drunk before. A whiff of his breath as he pulled the spy up by his armpits revealed a hint of orange amidst the alcohol. He had returned to Vespers then, and it was going to be a rough night.

They only made it as far as the couch before the technician was forced to stop. Bond was taller than him by a bit and had quite a lot more muscle to weight him. As soon as Bond was settled he was smacked smartly across the jaw by a fuming Q. before he could regain his sluggish wits he had a lap full of the angry technician.

James was a smart man and this was not exactly his first rodeo. He chose to hold his tongue and simply held his boffin while Q cried relieved little murmurs into his neck.

It didn't take long for Q to collect himself again. Instead of the expletives and forced promises James expected all he got was a quiet, "Why didn't you come home to me?"

A sigh served as the intro to his tale. "It was sex trafficking. They had so many people, a lot of them kids. Girls and boys too young not to have mums. One of them looked just like you, hair uncut and skinny as a corpse and I just couldn't deal with that thought." He petted the black curls without meeting the wide eyes. "I got reckless. I was just trying to get the damn job done. But I…I don't know. One of them got a little girl and put a gun to her head. She had pigtails and, God, she had to be six or seven. I could count her ribs through the dress they had on her. And they shot her right in front of me. He didn't have to. I gave him my gun. And she was staring at me…and God, I could see you like that boy…and…"

Q shushed him and met the sad blue eyes. He must have found in them what he was searching for because he proclaimed in a strong voice, "Kiss me."

James shook his head slowly without breaking eye contact. His thumb traced the tears that hadn't yet dried on Q's pale cheeks. "Not like this. You're not even finished crying over what I've done. I'm not going to kiss you, Q, not like this. You deserve to be more than a distraction because I've fucked up again."

The Quartermaster's mouth tightened. Of course this would be more difficult than he had imagined. "James, look at me," he commanded. "I'm here. I'm alive, I'm well, and there's no reason for you to run away, ok? We're done with distractions. I've been much more than a distraction these months and you're done running away from whatever's starting. You're going to kiss me because I'm yours and you need to know that. So can you just do that for m-"

He was cut off by James's bruising kiss. It wasn't tender or reassuring. That would come later, when they could both think more clearly. This was a painful reminder, pain to tell them both that there would always be someone to sooth the hurt. James ran his hands down Q's chest as he captured the younger man's tongue with his own. He was so glad that he couldn't feel the ribs beneath muscle and fat, and that the hair he ran his fingers through was clean and silky, not lank and filthy from lack of care.

His boffin gasped for air beneath his ministrations. Yet somehow his voice was still clear and posh as he proclaimed, "So are you done-" he paused as James bit as his sharp collarbone and scattered his thought, "-dancing around – ah – this?" The agent grumbled his assent from where he was busy ravishing Q's neck. "Then come on you drunk old bastard. Bed's this way." And with that his lap was empty and his Quartermaster had danced nimbly out of his hands.

There was nothing else to do put to follow where he led.

James smiled at the sight that greeted him in the morning. His boffin lay curled on his side, one hand wrapped firmly around James's bicep as if he was afraid the spy would disappear in the night. Ebony tousled curls were sprawled pell-mell on the pillow. He noted that they really needed to be cut soon. Q's slow, even breath was comforting. This was the only time James saw him truly relaxed; even just resting together on the couch in the evening Bond could tell Q's brilliant mind never stopped.

It was with reluctance that he removed Q's hand and rolled weightlessly off the mattress some time later. Strings of one-night stands had given his silent feet, raging hangover notwithstanding. As much as he wanted to laze the entire morning away, free from the creaks in his bones, his ache in his head demanded attention. There was tea and coffee to fix, and MI6 would eventually need to be informed of his return…but caffeine and painkillers first.

While the coffee percolated and the kettle rumbled cheerily on the stove he decided that mornings had become the most enjoyable parts of his days. Nine times out of ten Q was up before he and James would surface pleasantly to the smell of coffee and a slim hand on his chest. The warm colors of Q's decorating taste gave the living room the feel of a cave after a long winter. Not to mention, the Quartermaster himself had that edibly rumpled look to him when he first awoke.

Shaking his head like a large hound to rid himself of such thoughts he added sugar to the familiar mug of Earl Grey and poured his own black coffee. Returning to the bedroom he found Q sitting up and rubbing sleep out of his eyes. The technician blinked owlishly at the tea under his nose and then up at the agent holding it. He truly was endearing without glasses. His very own rent boy, he had teased once after too many martinis.

They were both quietly sipping the second cup of their respective addictions a little later. James sat propped against the headboard with the back of his Quartermaster's head lazily reclining on his better shoulder. The dreaded iPad had made its way into the bed again. Q checked email and world news in his usual unhurried and assured manner, preventing no less than three major Q branch crises as Bond looked on in amusement.

It was all very domestic.

With a glint in his eye, James moved away to retrieve his suit jacket from where it had been dropped the previous evening. From one of the inner pockets he pulled an obscenely large bag of Hershey's kisses; they had been made an oddly appropriate by Q's boldness the night before. He dropped them unceremoniously into the curious Quartermaster's lap and turned to the closet. His ears pricked for a reaction while he pretended to contemplate the day's wear.

When he turned back with a casual button down and dark jeans in hand he was greeted with a quite a sight.

Q had wasted no time at getting at the deliciously sugary drops. The little chocolates had all been rescued from their packaging and were arranged in a neat square that covered a quarter of the comforter. The white tails all faced the same way, little army men all in lines. The technician had set aside the tablet and was on his stomach with a mouthful of sweetness. James raised an eyebrow as clever fingers smoothed the foil wrapping and folded it into a perfectly flat triangle before tossing it onto a pile of similar triangles.

"Bit neurotic this morning, aren't we?" James settled his weight next to Q's on the bed, careful not to jostle the perfect formation of candy.

"Bit demonstrative this morning, aren't we?" Q shot back with his usual cheek. He rolled easily onto his back to examine his agent's face more easily. Not that he was complaining about the gesture, but it was out of character for Bond to simply give whatever it was directly to him, instead of finding the most difficult and backwards way open to him. It was as if the man liked to pretend he didn't have feelings…and Q stopped that thought before it started. A road for another day perhaps.

James shrugged and avoided his eyes. He ran his hand over the sliver of skin that showed above the smaller man's sleep pants. Moving up over Q' ribs he muttered quietly, "You look like him, the boy I saw. I would just…I would just feel better if you had 10 more pounds on you, ok?"

The smile slid off Q's face like water. So that's what this was all about. It was no small wonder that Bond hadn't stayed away much longer. Less than two weeks was nothing but a breather. To be sure, Q wasn't sure he could have faced James at all after such a thing. God, he must see nothing but the emaciated figure from the mission.

Before he had made to conscious decision to do so Q was up and in James's lap, arms round the other man's muscled neck, clinging tight. The spy chuckled, surprised but not unhappy about the assault. "It seems I went to bed with the hurricane and woke up with the breeze. I thought you were angry with me last night?"

"Just come home next time," Q muttered from his burrow in James's collarbone.

He felt the agent laugh silently again but he also squeezed the boffin tight in a one-armed embrace.

Sometime around mid-afternoon they both found their way out of bed. James went first, tickling Q's feet until they both fell off the edge in a tangle of cords and limbs. Bond may or may not have stolen quick kisses as the technician scrambled up and away.

Running clever fingers through his mop of hair, Q studied James where he was still spread comfortably on the carpet. A long suffering sigh was Q's only response to the agent's unapologetic smirk.

"I actually do have a job they expect me to show up to, though I'm sure you wouldn't know much about that. The interns are in quite a state and it's only been-" he checked the clock on the nightstand, "-6 hours on their own. I won't drag you with me this afternoon but you really must report by the end of the week. You know that I've never been good at lying to M's face for very long."

James nodded and contemplated his luck in ending up with his boffin for a Quartermaster. He was quiet as Q went about finding his glasses and trying to sort out his hair. Probably he would sleep the rest of the afternoon. Luxuries like this were few and far between and he missed the feel of his own sheets. For a minute he contemplated getting drunk on London's best whiskey but quickly threw out the thought. Over a week of that had been ore than enough.

Q pulled him out of his thoughts on his way out the door as he slid a bowl of cereal into his hands and a quick peck onto his lips. And that was that. James was alone in the apartment, but for once didn't feel lonely.

Please please please please please do not hate me. I'm going to go ahead...and call this finished. Damn that was painful. I love this work and it was so enjoyable to write but the thing is, I seem to have lost that enjoyment. I haven't looked forward to writing Chapter 10 at all and when I tried to write it I was so disappointed. I went back and read 1 through 9 and couldn't bear to give you guys something that wasn't even as half as good as previous chapters. So I'm not going to.

Of course a million thousand thank yous go out to every single person that has taken the time to read this. It was my first multi-chapter and I can't begin to describe the joy that all of the wonderful reviews have brought me. You all have given me so much confidence in my abilities as a writer and I'm happy to say that I plan to write much more on this sight and on my fanfiction. So a giant hug to all of you that have been with me since November, and the same to those just seeing this today!

If you haven't completely given up on me as an author yet, go check out my Sherlock fic, Death's Obsession, that I hope will be even better than this one, in its own way.

Love and a hundred happy endings to all of you!