The Property of a Lady
Q didn't know who was more shocked by the double-0s immediately obeying orders; himself or M.
Since those orders pertained to him, however, he reasoned that neither of them should have been so surprised - and no, that realisation most certainly did not cause butterflies in his stomach, thank you very much!
Either way, the pack quickly organised themselves and lept into action with Saif making a list of things to retrieve from his flat - and just how on earth he knew that better than Q himself, he had no idea - while Edie did a grocery shop, Duncan returned to Jake, Alexis went to track down Bill, and James and Alec, of course, remained with him.
M had ordered him to go straight from medical back to their flat but fuck that. If he was going to be spending the next four days confined to one place then he sure as hell was going to bring things to occupy himself with. So a detour to TSS was more than necessary.
Thankfully, his branch was deserted due to the now extremely late hour. Q knew he looked a right state at the moment, covered in bruises and mud, and he didn't have the patience or emotional capacity to smile and lie and fend off his minions' questions right now.
Especially not if one of them was responsible for his attack in the first place.
Shaking his head, he made a beeline for his own personal office, James and Alec dutifully following behind him like particularly menacing guard dogs - 007's suit as pristine and spotless as ever, of fucking course.
He was grateful that he'd left his laptop behind earlier this evening, and he grabbed it now, sliding it into his bag along with a working headset and mic. R may be capable of running the normal agents' missions on her own, but Charlie and Milli were still in Mozambique, and he flat-out refused to subject her to them, no matter how well-behaved those particular two double-0s were.
Glancing around the room, Q decided to grab his toolbox as well. He could vaguely remember drunkenly promising to increase the security on James and Alec's flat the first time he was there, but he hadn't exactly been in the right frame of mind to do so the second time he'd been there, so now was as good a moment as any. He debated grabbing Jake's cane too before deciding against it. He'd need most of the workshop for that, and he was already going to be taking up enough space in the others' flat as it was. He should, hopefully, have enough to keep him occupied without it.
Remembering the absolute monstrosity that was the ancient Toshiba block of a so-called "computer" that James and Alec had, he decided to pack a second laptop too, just to be safe.
After that…
"Oh, I grabbed your taser by the way" James suddenly said, reaching inside his suit jacket pocket and pulling it out, "I assumed you tweaked it a bit to make it reusable and it's already proven it's worth. Also Bill said he'd get a senior agent to drop your bike off at our flat".
Q slowly reached out to take his prized weapon.
"... You know, I would ask who you killed to explain why you're being so well-behaved all of a sudden, but I was there when you killed him, so…"
The blond flashed him a roguish grin, glancing him up and down in a way that should be illegal.
"Believe me, pup, I can be very well-behaved if given the right… incentive".
He felt his heart skip a beat and he furiously fought back any hint of a blush, instead narrowing his eyes at the complete and utter prat in front of him and giving him a dark look.
"Behave".
James blinked, looking entirely harmless and far too innocent. "But I thought I already was?"
Sighing, Q turned to Alec instead and gestured at his partner with a scowl.
"Put a leash on him, would you?"
He responded with a salacious smirk and more than a little smugness.
"Oh, don't worry, cub, I often do".
His brain glitched.
No. Nope. Nada. He was most certainly definitely absolutely not picturing James bloody Bond wearing a fucking leash holy fucking hell-
"I hate you" he said, his voice just a notch higher than it should be, "I really, really, really hate you".
"No, you don't".
Alec sounded just as smug as before, but now he was stepping well into Q's personal space and pulling him closer and he could feel the flush creeping up his neck and across his cheeks and he could hear his heart pounding loudly in his chest and he could see the self-satisfied, flirtatious smirks on their ridiculous fucking faces and-
"You could do with a shower, cub" Alec said, gently wiping a smudge of dirt from his cheek, "You know, if I were a lesser man, then I'd be making some insinuating pun right now about liking my men dirty".
"But thank god you're not, right?" Q breathed, feeling far too light-headed for his liking but still maintaining enough wits to take a step back before things got even more… heated.
"He's not" James replied, inching closer, "But I am. Perhaps you'd like a hand washing that dirt off… or two".
"I'm sure I'll be fine".
"Are you, though?" He somehow stepped impossibly closer. "It can be difficult to get dirt and blood out of, uh… hard-to-reach places".
It was ridiculous. This was ridiculous. He was ridiculous! There was no bloody way that these lines were actually working on him but oh fuck they were actually working on him. He was gone. He was so fucking gone and this just proved it.
Channelling every single scrap of Quartermaster that he could, Q forced himself to straighten up and speak as evenly as possible.
"I appreciate the offer, 007, but I assure you that I am more than capable of managing on my own".
Alec flashed his partner a grin.
"Oh, he just code-named you! You lose!"
James pouted for all of one-point-three seconds before that charming grin came back in full force.
"I have no doubt that you're capable, pup, but where's the fun in that? Think of it as a… team-building exercise-"
"Okay, I'm out of here" Q interrupted, turning for the door, "He's right; you lose. That was terrible".
He could hear Alec snickering as James no doubt pouted once more, but the omega was more focused on getting his heart rate to slow down again because sweet mother of Merlin! It was one thing seeing the pair in action on honeypot missions when he was sitting behind an office desk half a world away, but it was quite another being up close and personal with that sultry voice and intense gaze. And now he was supposed to go home with them?!
This was how he died, wasn't it? Whoever the hell was trying to kidnap him wouldn't even get another chance because he was about to go home with these two unreasonably attractive alphas who had already plainly said that they wanted him and he was just supposed to not spontaneously combust at the thought of sleeping in the same building as them? At the thought of showering in the same apartment as them? At the thought of James wearing a-
"Who's driving?" Q asked loudly, firmly telling his brain to shut the hell up as he turned to head toward the garage and very pointedly did not look back at the pair while doing so.
He'd have the rest of the week to freak out, after all.
Yana and Paco, the absolute traitors, didn't greet him at all as they finally arrived at the flat.
Either they were upset with him for moving them for the second time in just as many weeks, or else - and this was far more likely - they were too busy lounging on the cat tree that Alec had bought which was far larger and grander than any of the other toys they had at home.
If Q wasn't careful, they'd start demanding joint custody soon.
Shutting the door behind them, James carefully dropped the toolbox he'd insisted on carrying before picking up the duffle bag that had been sitting next to it. The omega was relieved to see his bike resting against the wall a few feet away, flat front tyre and all.
"Saif texted, said he put your clothes in here" the blond explained, "He also said that he added a few other things".
Q eyed it warily.
"If I find anything inappropriate in that bag, I'm going to kill him".
Alec snorted. "Just as well it wasn't Edie who packed it then".
"Or you might not have even been given clothes" James finished, with a sigh, "More's the pity".
The Quartermaster adamantly refused to blush, instead reaching out to yank it from his grasp before spinning around to march down the hall.
"Shower's first door on the left!" Alec called after him, his grin audible in his voice.
Q flipped his middle finger over his shoulder in response.
Once he was standing under the hot water, all traces of mud and blood scrubbed from his skin, he allowed himself a moment to simply breathe.
It felt like the entire world had been against him recently, between Mortner attacking him at the nightclub, dropping hard enough to lose a whole day, his flat being broken into, Ourumov killing over half of Pemda, Jake being injured enough to the point of being in a coma, and now, the proverbial cherry on top of a fucked-up cake, his bike tyre had been punctured by a mole at MI6 and he'd been attacked by three guys, one of whom he'd even-
Killed.
Q had killed someone tonight.
The water cascaded over his head, warm and comforting, yet it did little to wash away the sudden guilt gnawing at his stomach. He'd killed someone. The beta he'd tased had convulsed violently and dropped to the ground, unmoving. He had intended to disable him, not to kill, but the result was the same.
He leaned his forehead against the cool tiles of the shower, closing his eyes. He tried to tell himself that it was self-defence. He hadn't had a choice. It was him or them. The man had attacked him with the intent to kidnap him and possibly even kill him. Q knew he couldn't have hesitated, but the rationalisation did little to alleviate the ache in his chest. He was the Quartermaster: a tech specialist, an inventor, a strategist. He wasn't supposed to be on the front lines, facing life-or-death situations. That was for the double-0s - they were trained for this, hardened by years of combat and fieldwork.
But him?
He was supposed to stay in the safety of his lab, behind a computer screen, running missions from a distance. Sure, he'd orchestrated the deaths of dozens, if not hundreds, of bad guys and egomaniacs on comms, but it had never been up and personal like this before. He'd never been so close to their deaths before.
Did that make him a hypocrite?
Taking a deep breath, he tried to logically run through his memory of the attack as distantly as possible. The beta had attacked him, and Q had defended himself. It was as simple as that. He hadn't struck first, hadn't instigated the fight - he had simply done what was necessary to ensure his own survival.
And he was a survivor - by any means necessary.
It just so happened that tonight was the first time he'd had to put that ingrained trait into practice.
Turning off the water, he stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel. The cool air helped to ground him and years of experience at blocking out unwanted memories allowed him to compartmentalise the events of the night and focus on methodologically getting dressed instead.
That done, he turned and rubbed the damp towel across the steamed-up mirror. His reflection looked… exhausted. Not trodden on, not giving up, but… in need of a break, perhaps. He was also in need of a haircut.
A slow, creeping, crawling sense of guilt was wrapping its way around his heart, squeezing tighter with every passing second - but beneath it, buried deep down inside of him and desperate to be ignored, was something… else.
Something darker, more primal.
Satisfaction, perhaps?
He could picture the man as clear as day; the shock on his face as this small pretty helpless omega lunged for him, the wince of pain he gave as the prongs of the taser dug into his chest, the flash of fear in his eyes a split second before the electricity had hit his heart and he'd dropped to the ground, seizing.
There had been a moment, just one, as he'd watched the man crumble where he'd felt a surge of power, a fierce vindictive thrill that had coursed through him. He had defended himself, taken control, and won.
Was this what the double-0s saw in him? What had drawn them to him first day? A kindred spirit, someone who had that same potential for darkness, the same ability for that ruthless efficiency that they wielded so effortlessly?
That man probably had a family.
A mother, a father. Siblings. A partner, perhaps, and a few kids.
But he'd known what he was doing, too.
Q took another deep breath, and then another, before opening the bathroom door and making his way back to the kitchen where he was more than a little relieved to find a steaming mug of Earl Grey waiting for him. Both alphas looked up as he entered, and Alec pushed out the chair next to him with a smile.
"Hey, are you feeling any- What's wrong?"
"Nothing".
"Cub". Sea-green eyes bore into his own. "You might be able to control your expression, but your scent doesn't lie. You're upset about something".
He collapsed down in the chair, feeling guilty and relieved and mad and sad and just… weird.
"It's stupid".
"I highly doubt that" James replied evenly, "You're the smartest person we know; if it truly was stupid then it wouldn't be affecting you like this".
"It's… It's going to be stupid to you" he reluctantly corrected, "You're going to think it's stupid and then you're going to think I'm stupid and then-"
"Drink your tea".
He did.
It helped.
A little.
"It doesn't matter what we think, pup" James said when he'd finished half the cup, "If something is upsetting you then we want to help".
He scoffed and shook his head. "It can't be that easy".
"Why not?"
"Becuase-"
He stopped.
Because it never was. Because it never had been. Not for him, and not with- with him either. Had Francisco seen that darkness in him too? Is that what had brought them together? Had Q known, subconsciously, the type of man that he really was all along?
He took another sip of tea.
"Do you enjoy killing people?"
Neither of them so much as flinched.
"Not if they don't deserve it" James replied carefully, while Alec went with a far more ambiguous, "Doing bad things to bad people… makes us feel good".
"I'm not talking about morality" Q pressed, leaning forward in his seat, "I'm not talking about right or wrong or- or any sort of philosophical debate. I'm talking about killing, about the act itself, not the victim, not what they have or haven't done, just… killing".
The pair shared a look that, for all his knowledge of and experience with double-0s, he couldn't even begin to decipher.
"Cub… where is this coming from?"
"That's not an answer".
"Neither is that".
Q huffed and then drained the rest of his tea as he tried to come up with a response. Putting back down the cup, he turned to Alec.
"You're a psychopath".
He gave him a lazy, charming grin. "So they tell me".
"You don't feel remorse. Ever".
"Well… not with most things" he agreed slowly, "Certainly not with the things that normal people feel guilty about, but… if I hurt you, I'd feel remorse. If I hurt James, or a few of the others, maybe. I'm not… incapable of emotions, cub, and I can fake them when I have to, but usually everything is just… muted for me".
"But you enjoy killing? You get happiness and- and pleasure out of violence, a thrill for every drop of blood you spill?"
"I'm an adrenaline junky who's good at pretending to be human". He shrugged, like all of this was a perfectly normal thing to admit to. "It's what makes me an effective double-0".
Q slowly nodded. He'd known all of this already, of course - the very first thing that he'd ever been told about the double-0s was how good their "people suits" were. He remembered talking to Jake the night before he left for Mozambique, remembered thinking how little regard any of the double-0s had for human life, remembered wondering if he himself perhaps fell into the same category as them on whatever spectrum the psych department used.
A step above everyone else on the food chain…
Q turned to James who had been watching their interaction with a small, amused smile on his face.
"And you're a sociopath" he said, making it a statement rather than a question, "You can feel intense emotions, although they're usually fleeting, you manipulate and lie and deceive as easily as breathing, and you can be aggressive and reckless and have poor impulse control".
He seemed to consider his appraisal for a minute before-
"Yeah, that sounds about right".
James nodded and smiled and took another sip of tea, one ankle resting on the opposite knee, shoulders relaxed, his entire posture casual and yet… there was something intense in his eyes.
Something predatory.
And instead of wanting to run as far away from it as he could, Q wanted to jump in headfirst.
He spent the following day taking his bike apart on the sitting room floor. James and Alec hadn't pressed him for an explanation as to why he was suddenly curious about their mentalities, and Q felt… better after the talk they did have. He knew he wasn't a psychopath, and very likely wasn't a sociopath either, but if he fell somewhere along the same scale as the double-0s did, then… Well, that wouldn't be the worst thing in the world, would it?
He was among his people, his kind, and he knew that he'd never face judgment for killing a guy from the double-0s, much less from Alec or James who seemed to be the most bloodthirsty of the nine. He felt guilty for whatever that man's family were going through right now, but he didn't regret killing him.
Q paused, the tyre lever stilling in his hands.
He didn't regret killing him.
Did that make him a bad person? Did the fact that he felt more guilty about how little guilt he was feeling make him a bad person? Did it even matter if he was a bad person?
He shook his head and continued working the lever around the edge of his tyre, pushing up on it as he went to loosen it from the wheel frame.
It didn't make any difference, really, he supposed. He had a good job that he enjoyed doing, he had colleagues and friends and close friends. He even had two alphas who hung on his every word and were still waiting for his answer. If the events of the previous evening hadn't turned them away from him, then surely nothing else would… right?
Q pulled the tube out from inside the tyre, careful to push the air valve through the hole in the wheel first before pulling the tube out completely. He hadn't been able to find any punctures on the tyre itself, which meant that the problem had to be with the tubing that lay inside the wheel. Running it carefully through his hands, he frowned when he reached a section littered with small jagged holes.
"What the…"
Alec leaned over the edge of the armchair next to him, earning himself an angry hiss from Paco as he woke him from his place on the blond's lap. Q wondered if it was normal to feel jealous of a cat…
"Did you find something?"
He blinked and quickly turned back to his bike.
"Uh, yeah, kind of, I think so. The inner tubing has been punctured somehow, but I don't know by what".
Alec frowned. "The inner tubing? But isn't that protected by the tyre and the bike frame itself?"
"It's meant to be" he replied, dropping the tube and reaching for the wheel instead, "Can you hold this torch for me?"
"'Course".
Paco was promptly brushed off his lap and Q had to bite back a vindictive thought of good as the alpha joined him on the floor.
Passing Alec the small pen light, he moved his hand to where he wanted it to be, relishing in the brief, warm contact, before pulling back the tyre on the bicycle wheel and slowly rotating it until-
"There!"
Grabbing a pair of pliers, he reached in and awkwardly pulled out a thin rubber tube that was half-filled with a strange sticky substance and multiple small, sharp pieces of metal.
Q carefully inspected the odd gadget, noting the tape keeping one end shut and how the unknown gel had eaten through the rubber at the other end… which had then released the sharp bits of metal into the tyre of his bike.
It was a homemade delayed-action puncture device. From what Q could tell, it worked rather quickly - as soon as he'd started cycling home last night, the pressure and friction would have squeezed the rubber tube, causing the substance to wear it down until it gave way, releasing the metal into the tyre and causing a gradual deflation. Depending on the amount of gel used, him getting a flat tyre could have been timed down to the minute.
Alec's frown deepened. "What the hell is that?"
It would've had to have been installed directly before he got on the bike last night. Except the storage shed where employee bicycles were kept was always locked and you needed an MI6 employee card to gain access. Which meant it had been fitted sometime yesterday afternoon by someone who worked at MI6.
"That" Q replied grimly, "is evidence of an inside job".