The Quickness of the Hand
Q slowly pushed open the door to his bedroom. He wasn't… nervous, exactly, to talk to Jake alone, but he did want to make a good impression - or, at least, as good an impression he was still capable of making, given that he was wearing rainbow-striped socks, a blue "don't blink" shirt, and had, you know, literally attacked the man not fifteen minutes earlier.
Oh well.
First impressions were usually rubbish anyway.
The light had been switched off, but the yellow glow from the hall illuminated the room just enough for him to see that the alpha had relocated to the window - which was still fucking open, thanks Duncan - sitting on the edge with his legs outside. It also allowed Q to see something even more surprising; in the form of a pale hairless cat wearing a gold tag curled up on the chair next to the alpha.
Paco was a cautious cat by nature and tended to take weeks, if not months, to warm up to new people. Alec aside - the absolute traitor - the omega had never seen the sphynx actually seek out someone's company before, yet here he was, orange eyes slowly blinking up at 004 who paid him no mind.
If Paco already trusted him, then that sure as hell was a good enough judge of character for Q.
Stepping into the room, he left the lights off but made sure that his footsteps were audible, despite the fact that the agent had probably already noticed him the very second he arrived.
Walking over to the window, he was surprised yet again by the sight of blue-tinted smoke disappearing into the night, slowly rising from the thin cigarette held between the man's long fingers.
Jake Williams - kind, soft, warm-hearted Jake Williams - smoked.
Q was honestly more shocked by that than he had been by Duncan turning up in his flat unannounced with a bullet wound in his shoulder.
But then again, he reasoned, given the lifespan of a double-0, it was highly unlikely that 004 would even survive long enough for lung disease to become an issue.
Jake turned slightly as he stopped next to him, and Q found himself feeling strangely awkward.
"Mind if I… join you?"
He gave a half-hearted shrug.
"It's your house".
It was as close to yes as he was going to get.
Clumsily swinging both legs over the window's edge, and being careful not to hit his still-aching head against the raised sash, he settled in place next to the man. It was a tight fit, and Q found himself pressed thigh-to-thigh and shoulder-to-shoulder with the alpha on his left, but Jake made no move to put any distance between them, and the omega secretly revelled in the simple, no-expectations, physical contact.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, and Q used that time to take in the dilapidated overgrown garden in front of them. There were only three tenants in the converted townhouse - a divorced businessman who travelled a lot below him and a semi-deaf elderly couple above - and neither of the three of them had the time and/or physical capabilities to maintain the small plot at the back of the building.
Jake took another long drag of the cigarette and then blew out the smoke.
"This isn't exactly how I imagined we'd meet".
Q snorted before he could stop himself.
"Yeah, that, uh… that seems to be a trend amongst you double-0s" he replied, socked feet slowly swinging back and forth, "I think our thinly veiled veneer of professionalism has been well and truly smashed".
Jake quirked a smile which made his already young face seem even more boyish, before reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a green rectangular pack.
"Well, in that case, Quartermaster, I don't suppose there's anything stopping me from offering you one of these".
There was an incredibly outdated taboo surrounding omegas and cigarettes, just as there was with omegas and alcohol, drugs, violence, and all the rest of that fun stuff. So Q found himself surprised for the fifth time that night, as the alpha next to him flipped open the pack of Everests and held it out for him to take.
Fuck it.
It'd been a long week.
Q gladly pulled a thin white stick from the box, and then leaned forward as Jake flicked open an old-fashioned steel ignitor to light it.
At least his cigarette-lighter-hand-grenade invention would now have a better owner than Saif.
Taking a deep inhale, he closed his eyes both in relief at the warmth that spread throughout his body, but also in disgust at the familiar blend of chemicals that burned his throat. There was a rather nice cooling aftertaste though, and he suddenly realised that it must be menthol. Everest wasn't a brand that he had ever smoked before, but even now, after just two or three draws, he could tell that this stuff was far better than what he used to scourge up back in the day. The cool minty feeling started to numb the pain in his head and wrist a hell of a lot better than the paracetamol did, and the buzz beneath his skin seemed to drain away half of his exhaustion too.
He could immediately see why Jake liked them.
"Thanks" he said, belatedly, exhaling warm air and basking in the pleasant hazy feeling.
"No problem" the alpha replied, repocketing the box, "I'm surprised you even smoke".
"I don't. Not usually. At least, not anymore".
At his curious look, the omega explained.
"I gave it up years ago. Addiction runs in the family. I have one brother who won't even over-indulge in cake, and another who's addicted to heroin". He paused, and considered. "I don't think my sister's addicted to anything aside from causing chaos, but she doesn't need drugs for that, she does that well enough on her own".
"Your family sounds… interesting".
He snorted. "Crazy is more like it. Do you know, I think I'm actually the most normal one of the lot, and that really is saying something".
"Are they omegas too?"
He shook his head. "My sister and brother are both alphas, and my oldest brother is a beta. It's just me and my father who are omegas, but they do say it's paternally genetic, so…"
Jake nodded. "My papa was an alpha. Makes sense".
"And your mother?"
"Beta. I guess it was a fifty-fifty toss-up for me".
"No siblings?"
"Only child". He gave a small faint smile. "My parents wanted a large family, back in Rwanda. But then the Hutu revolution happened and they fled to London. Changed their names, became citizens, and a few years later I was born. But England wasn't kind to foreigners, back then. Still isn't, in some parts… It took everything they had to put food on the table just for me, let alone for themselves or for any other children".
"I'm sorry" Q said, because, really, what else was there to say?
"Nah, it's alright. It is what it is, I guess". He shrugged, once. "And besides, being a double-0 pays well. I can take care of them now, like they did for me. Although my mama still demands to know what I do for a living. I think she's convinced I'm selling drugs".
He laughed. "And I thought my parents were bad. I've tried to tell them that I still work in security, but quite frankly, I am a terrible liar".
"You should work on that. Given that you're the third most important person in MI6 and all. It makes you a target".
"Are you kidding me? I can't even leave my flat without one of your packmates following me around, so what chances do the bad guys have at catching me alone?"
Jake smiled again, more mischievous than amused.
"Yeah, I might have heard a thing or two about that. A rather over-protective lot of idiots, aren't they?"
"Right?! That's what I've been saying for weeks!" he exclaimed, "And yet the rest of '6 are all still terrified of them! Bloody overgrown puppies, the lot of you!"
"What can I say? We don't often let other people into our pack. Never, in fact… You're interesting, Quartermaster. Intriguing. Other… Just like us".
Q felt his heart rate pick up and briefly wondered if the other man noticed too, given how close they were pressed together.
"You're all highly-trained super-elite testosterone-riddled alpha assassins, 004. And I'm a scrawny nerdy omega who got this job by pure fucking chance… Exactly how are we the same?"
Jake, to be fair, actually seemed to consider his words for a moment before replying.
"You're smart. Wickedly so. And kind, despite the worst of human nature that you experience every single day. You're generous, sneaky, and loyal to a fault. You're also the only person I know that's actually brave enough to put us double-0s back in our place".
"Bravery's just another word for stupidity" he automatically replied, head reeling, "... You seem to have formed an awful lot of opinions about me, 004, considering that we've never met before".
"I guess it's just a pack mentality thing". He smirked, bumping shoulders with the omega. "And you can call me Jake, you know. We've fought, talked, and smoked together over the span of a single hour. I think we're there".
He snorted despite himself, and the alpha's smirk softened into something more like a smile.
"I know you haven't spent much time with me, Q, but I've been hearing about you non-stop since last December. I… like you. I respect you, based on what I've heard. And the fact that Duncan chose to go to you, of all people, says far more about you than what you realise".
Q could feel the heat in his face, in his hands, in his heart, and he took another drag of the cigarette in the hopes that the menthol would somehow cool him down.
"Anyone else at '6 would've made him go to medical" he finally replied, "And, no offence, but aside from Duncan himself, the rest of you lot are pretty shit at first aid".
He barked a laugh.
"Well, there is that… but it's not the only reason he chose to come here. Or to bring me here, for that matter, the over-protective mjinga that he is… He cares about you. A lot. And he trusts you, which is… well, it's more than I can say for anyone else outside the pack. And that means something, mpendwa, whether you want to admit it to yourself or not".
Spoiler alert: the menthol could not, in fact, stop his cheeks from flushing.
"Oh, hey, before I forget" Jake said suddenly, reaching back into his jacket pocket and pulling out a slim grey device, "Duncan said to give this to you. To be fair, I think he meant before I snuck in the window and accidentally attacked you, but… well, here you go. Better late than never, I guess".
He dropped the USB stick in the omega's pale hand, and Q mentally cursed the paradoxical idiot that was 003 even as he failed to fight down the smile on his face. A simple recon mission, the man most certainly could not do. But retrieving information about the enemy? Breaking into their lair - against all orders - and hacking into their mainframe? Still managing to download their entire database into the stupid tiny little storage device while he had a bullet in his shoulder?
Now that, the double-0 seemed to be a bit of an expert on.
And if Q was lucky, then he could bribe M with it and the two idiots in his flat wouldn't be fired for going so horribly off-script.
"I should also tell you that there's a silver Nissan Qashqai parked at Waterloo station that was, uh… acquired, shall we say, through less than legal means".
In other words, they stole a fucking car.
"I doubled back a few times on the way here to make sure we weren't followed, but it was still safer to ditch it than to quite literally lead the bad guys to your door".
"How very considerate of you".
"I know, right?"
Q looked up from the USB stick to find the alpha grinning at him, perfect white teeth glistening in the moonlight, and he found that he couldn't suppress his own smile at the sight.
Behind them, Paco yawned, before quickly making herself scarce as there came a knock on the door.
"Food's here" Duncan announced, still shirtless and ridiculously muscled, and Q knew for a fact that he hadn't imagined the way Jake swallowed thickly at the sight.
Interesting.
"I ordered Indian" he continued, "Curry, chicken tikka masala, saag paneer, and absolutely no fucking tofu".
"Good" Q announced, taking one last draw from the cigarette before stubbing it out against the window frame.
Awkwardly climbing back inside, he was grateful for Jake's steadying hand on his waist as he stumbled slightly. Duncan raised both eyebrows at the sight but said nothing, and Q followed suit. 004 followed him in before pulling down the sash window and twisting the lock.
The very much still-operating lock.
Frowning, the omega stared at it, stared at him, stared at the lock again, before finally turning back to Jake with a questioning, more-than-slightly confused look.
He gave a careless shrug, his lit cigarette held between dark lips.
"I like locks".
From the doorway, Duncan snorted.
"Understatement of the fucking century".
Q ignored him.
"So you… you managed to… to fix it? Just like that? Without any tools?!"
He reached into his jacket and- seriously, how big were this man's pockets?! -pulled out a slim black case, opening it to reveal a multitude of metal bars inside, each with a unique cut.
"The Quartermaster- the previous Quartermaster" he corrected, "gave me this, a good few years back. It's a lock picking set, but it's, uh… a bit modified. I never go anywhere without it".
Q's mind raced with the possibilities.
Up until now, he hadn't even considered altering old-fashioned lock picks because, well, they were just that. Old-fashioned. In the twenty-first century, all bad guys who were serious about being bad guys used electronic locks, or biometric locks, or even RFID locks. Put simply, if your super secret evil lair could be accessed by a bored teenager who'd watched one too many YouTube videos, then it wasn't going to remain super secret for very long.
But now.
Now.
Jake still used the lock picking set, which meant it obviously still had a purpose, no matter how small, and he had just used them to fix the window in the omega's bedroom, so they still clearly had a use even if it wasn't in so-called traditional enemy hideouts. And Boothroyd had modified them, had made them multi-functional and relevant and already he could think of at least a dozen things he'd like to try adding to them because Jake still used them, still needed them, and if that's what his agent preferred, if lock picking was his specialty, his main skill set, his source of happiness then of fucking course Q was going to try and adapt that into something even better, even stronger, even more helpful in the field and-
"Oh for fucks sake" Duncan grumbled, snapping him out of it, "Listen brat, you've got the rest of your entire fucking life to add a flamethrower to that lock set, but right now? My fucking dinner's getting cold, and I ain't eaten in two days, so put that genius mind of yours to one side, and come eat!"
Q flushed and quickly looked away from the black case, even as Jake laughed and held it out to him. He automatically reached back to take it, but before he could, Duncan had marched over and yanked the lock picks from both of their hands, tucking it into the waistband of his jeans with a scowl.
"Genius later. Food now!"
Which is how Q found himself, not ten minutes later, squished between two heat-emitting alphas, a carton of chicken curry and rice in his hands, and reruns of Doctor Who series three on the TV in front of him.
The cats were eating their own dinner in the kitchen, Duncan's blood-stained shirt and Q's discarded clothes were in the wash, and the magnets and wires on the coffee table had been temporarily relocated to the floor.
After they'd dished out the takeaway, Jake had taken one look at his blue weeping angel's shirt and admitted that he hadn't seen any episode after Rose left - an absolute travesty that clearly needed to be rectified immediately!
The dark-skinned alpha was fully immersed in the show, eyes riveted to the screen as the Santa Claus robots attacked Donna's wedding reception. Q's nose scrunched up in disgust. Those robots were a disgrace to the mechanical engineering world, and he'd never much cared for the Doctor's Londonian companion - he'd take Bill over the lot of them any day. On his left side, Duncan methodically ate his own curry, his expression relaxed and seemingly casual, but Q felt how the man jumped when the Empress appeared, and how his brows furrowed with worry as Donna tried - and almost failed - to save the Doctor from his own destruction.
Closeted nerds, the both of them.
There were bruises along his jaw to match the one he'd left on Jake's cheek, and the pain in his wrist made itself known every time he took a bite of pleasantly spicy food. The menthol cigarette had numbed his headache somewhat, but he could still feel it lurking behind his eyes, and Q winced every time he accidentally prodded the cut on his lip with his fork. He was fairly certain that Jake had broken a knuckle when he'd punched the wardrobe, but the man refused to let him look at it, claiming that Duncan could do so after they'd eaten.
So overall, it was a complicated, painfilled, but oddly pleasant end to the day, and despite the aches and bruises that Q knew would await all three of them tomorrow, he was strangely… content, for now.
He had eight of his double-0s safe and sound within the borders of the UK, and the only one missing was someone he'd already met and gotten along with. He knew that James bloody Bond would eventually return - it seemed to be something of a habit for him, after all, but until then, Q simply had to wait.
What he didn't know, was that the wait was almost over.