skydive
Written for August Fic Challenge 2023, Prompt: Diving. Established Relationship. First try at 007 fic. Comments and kudos would be awesome. Enjoy!
Q cannot wait to be back on solid ground.
He's not overly fond of planes, but he's here, en route from London to Tenerife in order to collect some vital intel from a blown operative. The very sensitive, very classified information is, at least, stowed on a secure server, but unfortunately that means he has to go himself to sort the mess out without drawing any undue attention. So, they'd sent him with 007 as his escort at his request.
The flight is, thankfully, almost over. He's spent the last four hours busily typing away on his laptop, distracting himself with inane coding projects and other programs that won't draw the eye of any of the other few passengers aboard this charter plane, mostly businessmen busy on their own computers. By his calculations, they've got about forty minutes left to go.
But, suddenly, the background programs running on his computer go absolutely haywire. He picks up on comms transmission that shouldn't be there, garbled radio static comes through the devices both he and Bond have tucked in their ears. They exchange looks, both aware that whatever caused the burst can't be anything good. The feeds jam just as quickly, and their link back to MI6 goes silent with it. Fantastic.
He turns the computer off, bricking it with his usual thoroughness and swiftness before stowing it in its case. It will not be of further use to him here, he is sure, nor will it be of use to anyone else.
He looks to Bond, who promptly leans over into his personal space. "Play along with me," his voice rumbles, and Q does as asked, does not question the kiss Bond presses to his lips, nor the one against his neck, words whispered so quietly that Q barely catches them. It is not the first time Bond has kissed him, not by a long shot, but it is still a surprise in this situation, when they work so hard to keep this separate from work. To anyone close enough to see, though, there is nothing strange at all – just two people kissing on their way to a romantic island vacation.
"They'll hit us when we land," Bond tells him. Hands play against his stomach, but they're only checking the buckles that secure the emergency pack he'd insisted Q wear. "We'll have to jump," he says, "when we get low enough. I'll lead, you follow."
Q can only nod. This is not his department. This is not what he is meant to be doing. Daredevil stunts are Bond's forte, hacking is his. He is, at least, relieved in that he has complete faith in their equipment. He'd designed everything himself, compact parachutes meant for Bond to be able to wear beneath his fancy suits should the need require. He has complete faith in Bond, as well, trusts the man completely with his life (even if he does not trust the man at all with the return of delicate inventions or outrageously expensive vehicles). Bond is the best agent MI6 has, probably has ever had.
They can do this.
Bond pulls back, settles in once more, but keeps a hand loosely entwined with Q's.
The minutes tick by.
All Q can see out the window is the vastness of ocean below, slowing drawing closer.
The plane finally begins its descent.
Q does not know what invisible signal tells Bond that it is time to move. The man gets up, motions Q out in front of him, and nudges him down the small aisle between the few rows of seats. Bond stays close to him, practically pressed against his back. They're headed toward the back of the plane, presumably toward the small lavatory there. It is also where the exit door is, Q notes, swallowing down the anxious lump in his throat.
Bond backs him against the lavatory door and kisses him once more, icy blues eyes boring into Q's as he plucks his glasses off his face and gently tucks them into a secure pocket. With another reassuring squeeze of his hand, he whispers a command not to move. Then the chaos begins.
First, there is a swift attack Bond enacts against the burly man in a grey suit seated in the last row who'd been eyeing them for most of the flight. A few swift movements and the man is no longer a threat, even as other passengers react to the seemingly unprompted violence – there had to be an inside man on the plane, someone who's interference they'd picked up on. Then comes a second man, this one staggering toward them from the row in front of their seats. He pulls a gun and Bond is quick to wrestle it up and away from any potential targets, banging the man's wrist against the overhead storage bin. The gun goes off, creating yet more panic aboard the plane, but he does drop finally lose his hold on the weapon. The overhead bin pops open with all this abuse and Bond takes the opportunity to grab the closest thing at hand, some heavy briefcase, and swiftly slams it into the man's head, stunning him long enough to take him out a bit more permanently. Two down, and no one else seems inclined to pursue them.
Then, Bond is moving, one hand wrapped tightly around Q's wrist as he pulls him toward the door. He frees the handle and the door slams open, the cold air bursting into the plane and nearly throwing them both off their feet. They're nearly deafened by the wind and the screams of the remaining passengers. But they keep steady, just barely.
Q doesn't have time to hesitate, Bond pulls him toward the opening and…
And, suddenly, they're falling, falling, falling. Plummeting down through cloudy skies toward the sea still so far below. Land is visible in the distance, but only just and panic swells in his chest once more, only eased by the iron grip of Bond's hand still holding onto him as they freefall.
Their chutes trigger automatically at the appropriate altitude and they drift down to the water slowly, splashing down without any difficulties. The packs pop automatic lifejackets, as well.
"That went well, I think," Bond says, an easy grin on his face.
Q laughs, something near hysterical after this simple plane ride has gone so maddeningly sideways. "That's one way of looking at it, I suppose," he concedes. He goes to adjust his glasses and frowns at their absence, but Bond is quick to retrieve them from his pockets. He returns them, perfectly undamaged and Q settles them on his face with a sigh of relief and holds tight to Bond so that they don't drift apart in the waves.
"Next time I take you skydiving, I promise it'll be a plane we're supposed to jump out of."
"Somehow I doubt that," Q answers. Nothing is every easy with James Bond, but that is what he's signed himself up for in getting involved with the man. Begrudgingly, he adds, "But we'll see."
Clearly pleased with this tacit agreement, Bond pulls him in for a sound kiss before he returns his attention to their present situation, eyeing the distance between them and the shore. "Don't suppose you installed something clever that will get us to shore in these, did you?" Bond asks, poking at the various buttons hidden in Q's brilliant creation.
"I did, actually," he declares. A few stealthy button presses have them moving steadily toward shore, arms looped around each other as the adventure continues.