Arthur's mind was a haze.
"I know I don't have a frame of reference for what just happened, but please tell me you enjoyed that as much as I did?"
Charles rolled onto his side and elbow with a serious look. "Frankly, Arthur, given that the first two times we went on a date and you shook my hand at the end of the evening, you have to ask?"
Arthur laughed. "Third time's a charm I guess?"
Charles leaned down to kiss him brief but soundly. "Beyond reasonable doubt."
Arthur rolled his eyes. "Do you have to bring the law to bed as well?"
Charles rose from his prone position as he spoke. "Someone's got to lay down some ground rules in this relationship, Arthur. And I imagine, you're going to be far more adept at bending them than adhering to them?"
"Would you defend my honour in Her Majesty's Court of Law should I ever find myself in need of your services?" Arthur enquired innocently, watching him move around the room to gather his clothes.
Charles stopped and gave him an appraising look. "You, Arthur Clifton, are far too clever to find yourself on the wrong side of the law."
"I'm not so sure. I feel there are a few pointers you could give me to help me in that regard," Arthur replied, eyes twinkling.
At that, Charles dropped his clothes and leapt onto the bed. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours…" he said, resuming his gentle assault across Arthur's chest. "We have all the time in the world, my little Bombe…"
Earlier that day (pre-flight to Bletchley Park). Q's house. Cat feeding time.
While he could be accused of a rather boisterous approach to field work that all too often drew unwanted attention, Bond did pride himself on his ability to be stealthy when the circumstances demanded subtlety.
The rules of stealth however, like most rules when it came to dealing with the feline form, did not apply.
James had barely pushed the door open a crack before hearing a furtive meow, immediately to be greeted by two sleek bodies sitting wide-eyed and patient on the other side of the entrance.
Bond suspected they had picked up a few surveillance tricks from their owner. Good thing they didn't have thumbs. Yet.
As he lowered himself to greet them in return, their interest in nothing but their stomachs came to the fore, leaping away from his extended hand and towards that sacred cat sanctum, the kitchen.
Bond could only chuckle. Look at what you've reduced me to, Q, he thought to himself. Licence to Kill, revoked. Licence to dish out the krill? At your service, Cat Gods.
Heads in bowls, their attention entirely devoted to their meal, Bond walked to the living room, merely out of the years of habit that came with checking your surroundings.
His eyes fell on the bookcase that dominated the room and he noticed the album was still there. It still itched a little that Q was somewhat reticent about sharing more detail about his past. But Bond could hardly be surprised, he himself being such a closed book. It was the nature of the job.
Fuck it.
He walked over to the bookcase and pulled out the album. He hadn't even gotten as far as opening it to see a sheet of folded paper flutter to the floor from between its pages. He bent to retrieve it and couldn't help but read the words.
"… We had so many plans, Charles, made so many promises to each other. I would have loved to have seen the world through your eyes; the places that inspired you and shaped the person with whom I fell so hopelessly in love. I wanted to take you to Bletchley Park though I know it would have bored you to tears! All that computer-speak and mathematical jargon. But to share these things with you would have done nothing less than enhance the colours of my world that you so completely occupy. But maybe now is not our time. Maybe on our next tour. Because there will be a next tour. I feel it as completely as I feel you in every moment I live…"
James folded the letter and slipped it back between the covers. He didn't open the album, already feeling enough of an intruder into the mind of his Quartermaster. He heaved a breath. Well, the least I can do is use the knowledge for good, he thought to himself with a smile. He turned back towards the hallway, to be met by, sitting in the doorway of the living room, the lesser of two furry evils watching him. Bond fleetingly wondered if Q had installed cameras behind their eyes to record events in his absence. He hunkered down to meet the impassive gaze of this tiny nemesis and pointed the threatening finger of a secret agent under duress.
"One peep out of you, George, and you'll find yourself on display in Oxford Street's finest milliners," he whispered before bestowing a gentle rub behind the ears and a swift departure to begin making plans for the evening ahead.