"There's another one around the next corner, approximately four metres down the hall. Do not throw your Walther, 007, do you understand me? Do not throw your Walther."
Bond flattened his back against the wall. His eyes found the nearest CCTV camera, sending it a wink as he ducked around the corner, his right arm flashing forward. "Why on earth would I throw my Walther when you've outfitted me with these lovely throwing knives?" he purred as the knife landed in the guard's chest with a satisfying thunk.
Q's outraged huff clearly carried over the earpiece. "Those were prototypes, 007. Did you actually nick those off my workbench?"
"Call it a field test."
"Infuriating man." Bond smiled at the affection Q couldn't keep from his voice even as he grumbled. "I truly hate you sometimes, you know?," Q quipped lightly before his voice became crisp and professional again. "At the end of the hall, first right, one more flight up. It'll be the roof again. That was the last guard, by the way, so it should be clear sailing from here."
Bond raced around the corner, his smile widening as he pelted up the stairs. He and Q had been dancing around each other for too long, both of them hesitant to take this final step. What in the hell were they afraid of? They both know how each other felt. There was never going to be a perfect time for this, not for people like them.
"You don't hate me, you know," Bond observed between panting breaths. "You love me. You are absolutely, positively, one hundred percent, head over heels, hopelessly in love with me."
Christ, even over the adrenaline of the mission he could feel his heart give an extra lurch at Q's stunned silence on the other end of the line.
"Yes, well..." Q finally sputtered. "Pot. Kettle." Bond's heart began beating again, warmth gathering in his chest.
"Indeed," Bond agreed, blood singing with elation as he jammed the roof access door shut with the hilt of his second throwing knife. "One hundred percent. Head over heels. Hopelessly."
Q voice was thick with emotion when he spoke again. "Cheeky bastard." He cleared his throat. "Northwest corner, five metres to the adjoining roof, and then a fire escape twenty metres to your left."
"Copy that." Bond ran, the asphalt of the roof crunching under his feet.
"Oh, and James?"
"Yes, Q?"
Q's voice was warm and husky. "Come home quickly."
Bond grinned. "I will." He was still smiling as he took a running jump and launched himself into the void, trusting — as always — that Q would lead him home.
[Author's Note: Well, that's it, dear readers! Thanks for sticking with me!]