(no subject)
Title: The Love Song of James Bond
Fandom: 00Q
Pairing: James Bond/Q
Rating: Explicit
Chapter 2
And indeed there will be time
To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”…
Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
From “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” by T.S. Eliot
James steps out of the helicopter and into another world. How is it possible that only a few hours ago he was in the middle of hell, and now he is following Q across springy moss towards a quaint cottage perched high on a bluff that appears to drop a few hundred feet into crashing waves. The early morning air smells like green things and the ocean, and a pale mist gives the mountains rising to his right a fey look. Other than the sound of the chopper rising and flying away there is no human sound. He wonders whose idea this isolated place was. They are serious about the “rest” part of rest and recovery that is certain, because he doesn’t think there will be anything else to do here.
He trails Q slowly, wondering if the next few weeks are going to be awkward as hell now that he has rather good evidence that the younger man is at least attracted to him; and the feeling isn’t exactly one-sided. It’s true that he isn’t a stranger to taking male lovers. In his line of work you get the information any way you can, and he’d like to meet the agent who hasn’t had some same sex experience and tell them to start doing their damn job. But contrary to popular belief he does have some sense of self-preservation left and he does know a bad idea when he sees one. Sex with Q falls firmly under both categories, because the man could probably zap him with some laser from a bloody Russian satellite if he ever threw a tantrum over James inevitably fucking someone else. Which is really a shame, because from this angle James can tell that Q has an excellent ass.
By the time he gets to the door Q is already inside and filling a tea kettle. James steps into a surprisingly modern house; open floor plan with a living room area to his left and a kitchen/dining room to his right and a set of stairs leading to the second floor. In the corner of the living room is what appears to be a miniature version of Q’s office with no fewer than four computers and even more monitors. It appears that the middle-of-nowhere ambience is strictly relegated to the outside. James slides into a bar stool at the kitchen island and watches Q go about making them tea. He may not be allowed to touch, but there are no rules against looking.
“You’re staring” Q points out, professional façade firmly back in place as he grabs two mugs from a nearby cupboard.
“Well spotted. You may not have noticed, but we seem to be extremely alone here so I’m not sure who else you expect me to stare at,” James responds, his mouth curving into what he knows is considered one of his more sensual smiles. This is good, flirting is a good distraction from all of the other things he doesn’t want to think about because he is so tired of hurting and thinking about M is definitely going to hurt.
“Come in, 007!” Q taps his spoon on the side of his mug and the ringing sound snaps James’ attention back to the present moment. “I don’t think you’re in a fit state to stare at anyone. You do realize I stepped aside to find tea bags so you look as if you’ve been trying to seduce the tea cozy for the past few seconds.”
“Right…” James rubs his eyes, vaguely embarrassed but too out of it to care. “You know, I’m more of a coffee drinker anyways. I’m assuming the shower is upstairs?”
“First door on the left. I’m sure the cozy will be more easily seduced once you smell less like lake water,” Q replies with a teasing smile.
“Hmm, yes.” James gets to his feet and walks around the island to stand next to Q, unable to resist an opening like that even in his present state. Q backs up a few steps towards the stove, attempting to look unconcerned but James can detect the nervousness in his stance. He leans in towards Q, ducking to inhale deeply into the dark hair curling around the base of his neck while reaching an arm around to grab the cozy off the counter. He is pleased when the younger man’s breath hitches almost imperceptibly just before he pulls back. “I can’t very well leave it here with you then. I’m the jealous type.” He winks then walks away, swinging the ridiculous thing like a boa as he goes.
Q sinks back against the counter and closes his eyes. At this rate he stands a snowball’s chance in hell at making it through this thing without shagging that arrogant, broken, beautiful man and he knows it. So, time for plan B. He knows what James needs, and a just another warm body to use isn’t it. The question is, how will he get James to accept it? He isn’t called a genius for nothing though, so by the time the kettle boils he has the makings of a plan. An insane, likely self-destructive plan.
In the shower, James is realizing that alone time is not his friend. As he watches M’s blood flow down the drain he has nothing to distract himself from the feeling that there are cold fists squeezing his heart and lungs, and even though he fights it his eyes begin to burn with tears. Maybe there is a limit to the number of times one man can lose someone important and still remain functional. He wants to believe he can still do his job, still save England from everyone who threatens it, but maybe it really is time to give it up. He couldn’t even save M. M, who he had known even longer than his own mom, who had challenged him and believed in him even when he pissed her off. Who he had loved. He isn’t sure he can even go on saving England when there is no one left alive he wants to save it for.
When he finally comes out of the bathroom, wrapped in a soft black robe he found hanging behind the door, he feels…empty. He just wants to climb in bed and not dream and sleep until he heals. He heads down the hall, looks into the first open door and freezes, his mind struggling to absorb one more surprise even if it is a good one. He is looking in at a large room that contains everything from the apartment he had before he ‘died.’ His pictures are on the walls, his gun cases lined up at the foot of his bed, and there is even a half-used bottle of his favorite cologne sitting on the dresser he ordered from IKEA right next to the bullet hole from when he got frustrated with the instructions. The only thing that is different is the smirking quartermaster sitting cross legged on one side of the bed with a laptop perched on his knee.
“See anything you recognize?” Q asks, looking extremely pleased with himself.
“This is…but, M said they sold the place and I just assumed…” Then the implications of what he is seeing sink in. “Q, how long ago did you do all this? You are clearly familiar with the house and it would take a certain level of creepy obsession to keep a dead man’s things and hide them away like this and my creep radar is excellent.” James walks over to sit on the foot of the bed and looks Q in the eye so he will know if he is being lied to. “You knew I wasn’t dead, didn’t you?” Q’s mouth opens to respond but James cuts him off. “Even knowing that, and I’d really like to know how you did, what exactly caused you to have a safe house built, on Skye Island no less, what had to be months ago? Did you know what would happen with Silva and fail to prevent it?” James feels the beginnings of anger begin to curl in his stomach and he really hopes he is wrong about the last part.
Q rapidly turns a startling shade of white. “Oh God. Oh my God I didn’t even think this could look like that…No! I had no idea what he was planning, please believe me!” Q dumps the laptop and crawls the few feet over to James and sits back on his heels to place a slightly shaky hand on James’ shoulder. “If I could have stopped him I would have, I would have done anything to keep you and M safe. I hate that he bested me, that I let him get into the system. I didn’t think it was possible. I was stupid and arrogant and nothing like that will ever happen again, I swear it.” He almost looks like he is going to cry and it is obvious that he is telling the truth about that part.
James relaxes visibly, coiled tension leaving his body. “Good, that’s good.” He looks right into Q’s eyes so the other man can tell he is serious when he says, “I would have hated to have to kill you.”
Q sucks in a breath and moves to sit down shakily next to James. “It may have just hit me that I’ve voluntarily shut myself away with the most dangerous man in England.”
“As I said, a slew of issues,” James replies, patting Q on the knee. “So now that we’ve determined you get to keep breathing, what about the rest?”
“Ah, it’s a bit of a long story. Come on, you may as well get comfy.” He moves back to lean on the headboard and pulls the covers off the other half of the bed, indicating for James to climb in.
“Is this your version of a bedtime story?” James does as he is asked and slides into bed, lying on his side so he can see Q. “Am I going to get a goodnight kiss when you’re done?”
“We’ll see,” Q replies with a rather confusing smile before he continues. “Do you know I gave myself this position only two days before you were shot and presumed dead? It was extremely vexing since the only reason I wanted to come work for MI6 was so I could work with you. If only M had listened when I insisted that I didn’t need a training phase, because I would have stopped that train, or failing that, simply knocked the target off with a drone plane or something but no, there were “procedures” that needed to be followed. And wasn’t that a joke after how I’d gotten the job in the first place?”
“Bitter much?” James can’t help but think Q is rather adorable when he is irritated.
“Extremely. They set me to completing boring and simple tasks in your absence and I was required to assist inferior agents on jobs you could have completed in half the time. I needed something to do with my extra time so I dedicated it to finding you. I supposed I never believed something as trivial as a bullet wound and a fall from a train bridge could kill you,” he says with a soft smile as he reaches out to run his fingers lightly through James’ short hair.
James can’t help but lean into his touch a bit. It feels strangely affectionate and devoid of sexual implications and James doesn’t understand it.
“I don’t want to bore you with the details of how I found you. In layman’s terms, I hotwired the satellite telescopes of a few key countries and found you within a week. I’m not implying MI6 gave up on you, they simply had the wrong division looking.”
“But you didn’t tell anyone. Why?” James resists the urge to sigh audibly as Q’s deft fingers continue to massage his scalp.
“I thought you could use the break, even though you didn’t seem to be enjoying it overly much. I was rather concerned for your health with all of that drinking, but if you had been in any major danger I would have sent someone for you. I was going to give you six months then come find you myself.”
“I thought you hated to fly.”
“I hate seeing you unhappy even more. That’s why I had this house built. It wasn’t technically commissioned by MI6…I suppose I’ll be hearing about that once all of this cools down and the new M has had time to wonder why I just happened know the perfect place to bring you. Actually, it would be rather amusing to watch him try to figure out why a safe house is so safe it isn’t even listed anywhere on their databases and only the pilot who dropped us off knows where it is.” He has a deviously amused look on his face and James is reminded of him mentioning how much damage he could do from home in his PJ’s. “I started work on this house right after I found you. It was built by an American company who thinks it was commissioned by a paranoid actor, hence all the extra safety precautions. I didn’t steal the money, before you ask. I just had a surprisingly profitable second quarter in the stock market.” The devious grin only increases at that revelation and James decides he really doesn’t want to know the specifics.
“So you built me a house. On an island that sounds suspiciously like the name of my childhood home. Because you wanted me to be happy. Q, you don’t even know me.”
“In my defense, I could hardly know you were planning to blow up said house in a rather spectacular fashion. I just thought you would like a retreat and it seemed appropriate for it to be where you grew up rather than in England. It’s much calmer here and I suspected you could use some calm.” He removes his hand from James’ head and James clamps down on the urge to tell him to put it back. Then Q picks up his laptop and in a few seconds he brings up a folder and turns the screen to show James.
It is titled simply “007” and contains files with the names of what appear to be every assignment he has ever participated in. There are files marked performance reviews, test scores, psychiatric evaluations and other things James doesn’t even know what are. It appears to be his entire life in paperwork form. James doesn’t know what to say. On one hand he feels a bit violated but on the other he feels…flattered might be the correct term.
Q is studiously not looking at him as he begins to speak again. “Have you ever had an idol, Bond?”
“What, like Casanova?”
Q gives a longsuffering sigh. “Sure, like Casanova. Imagine you lived when he did. Imagine you were able to learn everything about him, about his exploits and passions. You read everything other people said about him, from his conquests to his doctors. You were able to watch him from afar and learn his mannerisms. You would then know all you could without actually knowing him, but you would feel as if you did. I mean all of this in the least creepy way possible, by the way. You wouldn’t want to hurt him or anything. What do you suppose you would do to get to know the rest of him, everything that wasn’t on paper, if given the chance?”
James still isn’t sure how to respond, is trying to process the fact that Q has been essentially stalking him for years, but not in a creepy way. His mind defaults to deflecting humor. “Why Q, are you telling me I’m your idol?”
“I’m telling you that you are a marvel to me. I started following your activities because you are a perfect machine, not unlike one of my computers. Despite the fact that you should have become outdated, you haven’t. At first I wanted to see what makes you work, how you remain vital in an era where I with all my technology should by all rights be more effective. But then you disappeared and when I found you again I realized that you are in danger of disappearing for good.” Q returns his gaze to James’ and sets down his computer. “You were breaking even then and now…” He runs the backs of his fingers lightly down the stubble of James’ jaw. “I think I’m the only one who knows you well enough to fix you, even if you don’t know me.”
James opens his mouth to protest that he isn’t broken and damn it he doesn’t need fixing, but something in Q’s eyes stops him. “And how do you propose to do that?” is what comes out of his mouth.
“I’ll tell you when you wake up. And don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.” Q leans over and tucks the blankets in around him. “Sleep, James.”
James closes his eyes, too tired to analyze why it feels perfectly normal to drift off to the sound of soft keystrokes coming from where Q is keeping the nightmares away while he sleeps. And the feeling of contentment as he feels a pair of soft lips pressed briefly to his temple…definitely too tired to think too hard about that, either.
Fandom: 00Q
Pairing: James Bond/Q
Rating: Explicit
Chapter 2
And indeed there will be time
To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”…
Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
From “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” by T.S. Eliot
James steps out of the helicopter and into another world. How is it possible that only a few hours ago he was in the middle of hell, and now he is following Q across springy moss towards a quaint cottage perched high on a bluff that appears to drop a few hundred feet into crashing waves. The early morning air smells like green things and the ocean, and a pale mist gives the mountains rising to his right a fey look. Other than the sound of the chopper rising and flying away there is no human sound. He wonders whose idea this isolated place was. They are serious about the “rest” part of rest and recovery that is certain, because he doesn’t think there will be anything else to do here.
He trails Q slowly, wondering if the next few weeks are going to be awkward as hell now that he has rather good evidence that the younger man is at least attracted to him; and the feeling isn’t exactly one-sided. It’s true that he isn’t a stranger to taking male lovers. In his line of work you get the information any way you can, and he’d like to meet the agent who hasn’t had some same sex experience and tell them to start doing their damn job. But contrary to popular belief he does have some sense of self-preservation left and he does know a bad idea when he sees one. Sex with Q falls firmly under both categories, because the man could probably zap him with some laser from a bloody Russian satellite if he ever threw a tantrum over James inevitably fucking someone else. Which is really a shame, because from this angle James can tell that Q has an excellent ass.
By the time he gets to the door Q is already inside and filling a tea kettle. James steps into a surprisingly modern house; open floor plan with a living room area to his left and a kitchen/dining room to his right and a set of stairs leading to the second floor. In the corner of the living room is what appears to be a miniature version of Q’s office with no fewer than four computers and even more monitors. It appears that the middle-of-nowhere ambience is strictly relegated to the outside. James slides into a bar stool at the kitchen island and watches Q go about making them tea. He may not be allowed to touch, but there are no rules against looking.
“You’re staring” Q points out, professional façade firmly back in place as he grabs two mugs from a nearby cupboard.
“Well spotted. You may not have noticed, but we seem to be extremely alone here so I’m not sure who else you expect me to stare at,” James responds, his mouth curving into what he knows is considered one of his more sensual smiles. This is good, flirting is a good distraction from all of the other things he doesn’t want to think about because he is so tired of hurting and thinking about M is definitely going to hurt.
“Come in, 007!” Q taps his spoon on the side of his mug and the ringing sound snaps James’ attention back to the present moment. “I don’t think you’re in a fit state to stare at anyone. You do realize I stepped aside to find tea bags so you look as if you’ve been trying to seduce the tea cozy for the past few seconds.”
“Right…” James rubs his eyes, vaguely embarrassed but too out of it to care. “You know, I’m more of a coffee drinker anyways. I’m assuming the shower is upstairs?”
“First door on the left. I’m sure the cozy will be more easily seduced once you smell less like lake water,” Q replies with a teasing smile.
“Hmm, yes.” James gets to his feet and walks around the island to stand next to Q, unable to resist an opening like that even in his present state. Q backs up a few steps towards the stove, attempting to look unconcerned but James can detect the nervousness in his stance. He leans in towards Q, ducking to inhale deeply into the dark hair curling around the base of his neck while reaching an arm around to grab the cozy off the counter. He is pleased when the younger man’s breath hitches almost imperceptibly just before he pulls back. “I can’t very well leave it here with you then. I’m the jealous type.” He winks then walks away, swinging the ridiculous thing like a boa as he goes.
Q sinks back against the counter and closes his eyes. At this rate he stands a snowball’s chance in hell at making it through this thing without shagging that arrogant, broken, beautiful man and he knows it. So, time for plan B. He knows what James needs, and a just another warm body to use isn’t it. The question is, how will he get James to accept it? He isn’t called a genius for nothing though, so by the time the kettle boils he has the makings of a plan. An insane, likely self-destructive plan.
In the shower, James is realizing that alone time is not his friend. As he watches M’s blood flow down the drain he has nothing to distract himself from the feeling that there are cold fists squeezing his heart and lungs, and even though he fights it his eyes begin to burn with tears. Maybe there is a limit to the number of times one man can lose someone important and still remain functional. He wants to believe he can still do his job, still save England from everyone who threatens it, but maybe it really is time to give it up. He couldn’t even save M. M, who he had known even longer than his own mom, who had challenged him and believed in him even when he pissed her off. Who he had loved. He isn’t sure he can even go on saving England when there is no one left alive he wants to save it for.
When he finally comes out of the bathroom, wrapped in a soft black robe he found hanging behind the door, he feels…empty. He just wants to climb in bed and not dream and sleep until he heals. He heads down the hall, looks into the first open door and freezes, his mind struggling to absorb one more surprise even if it is a good one. He is looking in at a large room that contains everything from the apartment he had before he ‘died.’ His pictures are on the walls, his gun cases lined up at the foot of his bed, and there is even a half-used bottle of his favorite cologne sitting on the dresser he ordered from IKEA right next to the bullet hole from when he got frustrated with the instructions. The only thing that is different is the smirking quartermaster sitting cross legged on one side of the bed with a laptop perched on his knee.
“See anything you recognize?” Q asks, looking extremely pleased with himself.
“This is…but, M said they sold the place and I just assumed…” Then the implications of what he is seeing sink in. “Q, how long ago did you do all this? You are clearly familiar with the house and it would take a certain level of creepy obsession to keep a dead man’s things and hide them away like this and my creep radar is excellent.” James walks over to sit on the foot of the bed and looks Q in the eye so he will know if he is being lied to. “You knew I wasn’t dead, didn’t you?” Q’s mouth opens to respond but James cuts him off. “Even knowing that, and I’d really like to know how you did, what exactly caused you to have a safe house built, on Skye Island no less, what had to be months ago? Did you know what would happen with Silva and fail to prevent it?” James feels the beginnings of anger begin to curl in his stomach and he really hopes he is wrong about the last part.
Q rapidly turns a startling shade of white. “Oh God. Oh my God I didn’t even think this could look like that…No! I had no idea what he was planning, please believe me!” Q dumps the laptop and crawls the few feet over to James and sits back on his heels to place a slightly shaky hand on James’ shoulder. “If I could have stopped him I would have, I would have done anything to keep you and M safe. I hate that he bested me, that I let him get into the system. I didn’t think it was possible. I was stupid and arrogant and nothing like that will ever happen again, I swear it.” He almost looks like he is going to cry and it is obvious that he is telling the truth about that part.
James relaxes visibly, coiled tension leaving his body. “Good, that’s good.” He looks right into Q’s eyes so the other man can tell he is serious when he says, “I would have hated to have to kill you.”
Q sucks in a breath and moves to sit down shakily next to James. “It may have just hit me that I’ve voluntarily shut myself away with the most dangerous man in England.”
“As I said, a slew of issues,” James replies, patting Q on the knee. “So now that we’ve determined you get to keep breathing, what about the rest?”
“Ah, it’s a bit of a long story. Come on, you may as well get comfy.” He moves back to lean on the headboard and pulls the covers off the other half of the bed, indicating for James to climb in.
“Is this your version of a bedtime story?” James does as he is asked and slides into bed, lying on his side so he can see Q. “Am I going to get a goodnight kiss when you’re done?”
“We’ll see,” Q replies with a rather confusing smile before he continues. “Do you know I gave myself this position only two days before you were shot and presumed dead? It was extremely vexing since the only reason I wanted to come work for MI6 was so I could work with you. If only M had listened when I insisted that I didn’t need a training phase, because I would have stopped that train, or failing that, simply knocked the target off with a drone plane or something but no, there were “procedures” that needed to be followed. And wasn’t that a joke after how I’d gotten the job in the first place?”
“Bitter much?” James can’t help but think Q is rather adorable when he is irritated.
“Extremely. They set me to completing boring and simple tasks in your absence and I was required to assist inferior agents on jobs you could have completed in half the time. I needed something to do with my extra time so I dedicated it to finding you. I supposed I never believed something as trivial as a bullet wound and a fall from a train bridge could kill you,” he says with a soft smile as he reaches out to run his fingers lightly through James’ short hair.
James can’t help but lean into his touch a bit. It feels strangely affectionate and devoid of sexual implications and James doesn’t understand it.
“I don’t want to bore you with the details of how I found you. In layman’s terms, I hotwired the satellite telescopes of a few key countries and found you within a week. I’m not implying MI6 gave up on you, they simply had the wrong division looking.”
“But you didn’t tell anyone. Why?” James resists the urge to sigh audibly as Q’s deft fingers continue to massage his scalp.
“I thought you could use the break, even though you didn’t seem to be enjoying it overly much. I was rather concerned for your health with all of that drinking, but if you had been in any major danger I would have sent someone for you. I was going to give you six months then come find you myself.”
“I thought you hated to fly.”
“I hate seeing you unhappy even more. That’s why I had this house built. It wasn’t technically commissioned by MI6…I suppose I’ll be hearing about that once all of this cools down and the new M has had time to wonder why I just happened know the perfect place to bring you. Actually, it would be rather amusing to watch him try to figure out why a safe house is so safe it isn’t even listed anywhere on their databases and only the pilot who dropped us off knows where it is.” He has a deviously amused look on his face and James is reminded of him mentioning how much damage he could do from home in his PJ’s. “I started work on this house right after I found you. It was built by an American company who thinks it was commissioned by a paranoid actor, hence all the extra safety precautions. I didn’t steal the money, before you ask. I just had a surprisingly profitable second quarter in the stock market.” The devious grin only increases at that revelation and James decides he really doesn’t want to know the specifics.
“So you built me a house. On an island that sounds suspiciously like the name of my childhood home. Because you wanted me to be happy. Q, you don’t even know me.”
“In my defense, I could hardly know you were planning to blow up said house in a rather spectacular fashion. I just thought you would like a retreat and it seemed appropriate for it to be where you grew up rather than in England. It’s much calmer here and I suspected you could use some calm.” He removes his hand from James’ head and James clamps down on the urge to tell him to put it back. Then Q picks up his laptop and in a few seconds he brings up a folder and turns the screen to show James.
It is titled simply “007” and contains files with the names of what appear to be every assignment he has ever participated in. There are files marked performance reviews, test scores, psychiatric evaluations and other things James doesn’t even know what are. It appears to be his entire life in paperwork form. James doesn’t know what to say. On one hand he feels a bit violated but on the other he feels…flattered might be the correct term.
Q is studiously not looking at him as he begins to speak again. “Have you ever had an idol, Bond?”
“What, like Casanova?”
Q gives a longsuffering sigh. “Sure, like Casanova. Imagine you lived when he did. Imagine you were able to learn everything about him, about his exploits and passions. You read everything other people said about him, from his conquests to his doctors. You were able to watch him from afar and learn his mannerisms. You would then know all you could without actually knowing him, but you would feel as if you did. I mean all of this in the least creepy way possible, by the way. You wouldn’t want to hurt him or anything. What do you suppose you would do to get to know the rest of him, everything that wasn’t on paper, if given the chance?”
James still isn’t sure how to respond, is trying to process the fact that Q has been essentially stalking him for years, but not in a creepy way. His mind defaults to deflecting humor. “Why Q, are you telling me I’m your idol?”
“I’m telling you that you are a marvel to me. I started following your activities because you are a perfect machine, not unlike one of my computers. Despite the fact that you should have become outdated, you haven’t. At first I wanted to see what makes you work, how you remain vital in an era where I with all my technology should by all rights be more effective. But then you disappeared and when I found you again I realized that you are in danger of disappearing for good.” Q returns his gaze to James’ and sets down his computer. “You were breaking even then and now…” He runs the backs of his fingers lightly down the stubble of James’ jaw. “I think I’m the only one who knows you well enough to fix you, even if you don’t know me.”
James opens his mouth to protest that he isn’t broken and damn it he doesn’t need fixing, but something in Q’s eyes stops him. “And how do you propose to do that?” is what comes out of his mouth.
“I’ll tell you when you wake up. And don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.” Q leans over and tucks the blankets in around him. “Sleep, James.”
James closes his eyes, too tired to analyze why it feels perfectly normal to drift off to the sound of soft keystrokes coming from where Q is keeping the nightmares away while he sleeps. And the feeling of contentment as he feels a pair of soft lips pressed briefly to his temple…definitely too tired to think too hard about that, either.