(no subject)
Title : Working Late
Author : to-shiki
Genre : hinted sex, fluff?
Series: Skyfall/James Bond
Pairings : 00qva, Bond/Moneypenny and Silva/Q
Rating: PG-13ish
Warnings: I failed at the sex part ;_;
Summary : A little snippet of the lives of 00qva, my newest OT3
Disclaimer : I don't own anything but the story. Trust me, if I owned Skyfall/James Bond there would have been more slashy goodness along with Moneypenny getting more screen time as well. Asiancutie93 on tumblr helped beta this the first time around so any mistakes you find are totally mine.
Working Late
The tall, well built 00 agent stalked through the dimly lit hallways of MI6 like a man on a mission. Which he was. At four o’clock in the morning, no less. His search began earlier in Q-Branch and traveled home with no luck. Now he was back at headquarters for a more in depth search.
Q-Branch was still empty. All the conference rooms were empty. The med wing was quiet with no signs of his prey. He even checked out the training rooms. No luck. The only souls he encountered on his quest thus far had been the cleaning crew on each floor. He was about to go home and check their flat again when a light in the distance caught his eye.
The cafeteria. Of bloody course. The very last, unthinkable, place anyone would bother to look for him. With an annoyed tut the blond agent walked down to the entrance of the dining area and did a visual sweep of the large room.
In a room full of tables and chairs and napkin dispensers he had picked the one closest to the serving line. No surprise since it’s right next to the coffee maker and bags of cheap tea and coffee their employers like to supply. A pot of brewed water was still on the warmer half empty. The only reason the boy would stoop so low as to drink the ‘commoners’’ tea would be if his own personal supply of loose leaf in Q-Branch had run out.
A mental note was made to restock the genius’s supply and the emergency backup hidden in his desk.
“What are you doing here still, luv, when you should be abed with me?” he tsked as he leaned against the back of Q’s chair. He purposely made a show of stealing Q’s mug of tea when his answer came in the form of keyboard typing.
“I wouldn’t if I were you,” Q warned with exhaustion clear in his voice. The agent did a double take, mug halfway to his mouth. The young man had a throw blanket over his cardigan and button up shirt, tie loosen. Only his head and hands peeked out from the blanket, wrists stick-like and glasses reflecting the screen to obscure his eyes. Normally semi-controlled messy hair was now messily hand combed several times over. He even sported a dashing five o’clock shadow.
“And why’s that?” He made sure to slurp loudly as he drank…
…before promptly spraying it all out. Thankfully for him he had excellent aim even when disgusted by nasty tea and missed Q and his laptop completely.
“Because not only is it cold but also shitty,” came the too late answer. Q grabbed a napkin and handed it over his shoulder to the still gagging double-oh. “Please stop making the janitors’ job more strenuous.”
“I’ll do my best.” The napkin was used to dab at his lips before being tossed carelessly on to the table. He yanked over a chair from the table behind them and sat down next to and half behind Q. “Which 3rd world dictator’s life are you destroying now?” He let his chin rest on Q’s shoulder while following his actions on the screen.
Q sighed in mild irritation. “No one’s, yet.” Several key strokes later he paused long enough to gulp down the icy cheap tea, haggard poker face unflinching. “Right now I’m reviewing proposals and prototype reviews. And seriously? How many times are you bloody 00’s going to ask for exploding anythings? It’s not the fifties and sixties anymore. Do you realize how much everything my department makes you lot cost? And none of you have the decency to attempt to bring back the “toys” my department makes you that don’t explode! How-“
“Shhh!” The double-oh in question, one of them anyways, cut off Q’s ramblings with a hand over his mouth. He didn’t press too hard as he remembers just how hard Q could bite when really in a snitch. “You’re strung a little tight, hmm? How many cups of that nasty tea have you had? Fifteen? Twenty? Much too much caffeine for you, I’m afraid. How about this?” He slid his hand just enough to press three fingers into Q’s welcoming mouth. “How about you be a good boy and open that window I see up top.” His other hand wrapped around the chair and pulled Q’s tie loose and onto the floor. “Yes, that one. Enlarge the window, darling, and turn up the volume.”
~*~
“Darling.”
Moneypenny shifted in her sleep. Blearily she opened her eyes to stare at the alarm clock stationed on her side of the bed. 6:28a.m. Only two hours ago did her and her partner finally fuck themselves into sleep. The sound of strangely familiar moaning caught her attention.
“Darling, your lovers are here,” the voice coming from the open laptop sang from the other side of the bed.
She reluctantly climbed over her still slumbering fellow agent. Lying against his side she clicked on the bar to maximize the video feed. What she saw woke her up completely. Mouth gapping open she reached back and smacked the other awake. “Wake up! Wake up or you’ll miss it!”
The tall, well built 00 agent sat up in bed with a start. “Wha? What is it?” He slid his hand under his pillow and grabbed the gun hidden there. Blue eyes scanned the small hotel room lit only by the laptop’s screen.
“Jus’ lookit!” Moneypenny pointed to the screen as Bond relaxed and lay back down behind her facing the laptop
There streaming live was their lovely Quartermaster fully naked bouncing up and down on Silva’s lap. He had his head thrown back resting on the older man’s shoulder as his hands covered the ones on his hips. Damp hair clung to his face; cheeks flushed pink. Another moan fell past his lips as Silva pulled him down rougher than before.
For his part Silva was still fully dressed. He had done nothing more than unzip his pants and pull out his cock.
“If you two don’t get started right now I’ll make sure that James Bond gets nothing more than a water gun and a child’s walkie-talkie for all his future missions! And you, Miss Moneypenny! You will receive a virus that will constantly play nothing but hardcore folk metal remix music at FULL VOLUME on any computer you access!” It took him several tries to get his threat out as Silva made it his business to reduce his higher brain functions to nothing.
“Well, Mr. Bond?” Eve reached back and pulled Bond lips to hers. “Should we do as the Quartermaster demands?”
ldquo;If it’s what he demands then it may be in our best interest to do so.”
~*~
It was close to 2 o’clock the next morning by the time Bond finally made it home. He was smart enough to leave a detailed report on Moneypenny’s desk while she was down in Medical to get her wrist checked out. Somehow Bond had lucked out on any injuries this time around.
Granted the same won’t be said once he gets home and announces to Q that he managed to destroy all the little gadgets he’d made him. Although he was able to bring back 97% of the parts, Bond knew the Quartermaster would still be angry with him.
Inside the flat he shucked his jacket and shoes next to the coat rack. A quick stop into the kitchen for some food that he didn’t bother to heat up and he made his way to the bedroom. A blink-and-you-miss-it pause at the doorway as he contemplated just sleeping on the couch. But it had been a long, boring (save for Moneypenny’s presence and the video sex) mission and maybe his age was catching up to him but he had honestly missed his two lovers. The old M’s worry about him building an attachment had finally happened.
That and he’s positive that Silva had bought the ugliest, most uncomfortable sofa in the world.
On purpose.
Entering the room he stripped as he walked to the bed, moonlight bleeding in through sheer curtains guiding his way. Both occupants were on their sides facing the bedroom door. Silva was curled protectively around their Quartermaster, left arm pillowing his head and right around his middle cradling Q’s right hand. A thin sheet covered them from the waist down and did nothing to hide the fact that they lay with their legs tangled together. Q's glasses lay on the bedside table along with a case containing Silva's dentures
“And the lost son finally finds his way home again.” Silva smirked lazily at Bond as the man sat down on the edge of the bed to take off his pants and socks. Absentmindedly he rubbed his thumb over the hand caught in his grasp. “Our clever boy was quite worried about you two, you know. Kept himself awake for over 48 hours keeping an eye on your mission. He’s barely woken since I got him home. Shame, shame, you two.”
Bond sighed. He shifted so he sat facing the two. “Well, I’m back. And all in one piece, may I point out,” he announced in hushed tones so as not to wake Q. From the dark circles under the eyes of the Quartermaster Silva hadn’t been lying. “No injuries to myself. Miss Moneypenny is suffering from a sprained wrist, nothing more.” He laid his hand on Q’s hip, thumb smoothing out an imaginary wrinkle. “I got the report typed up and submitted so we’ll have no interruptions this weekend unless an emergency.”
“Did you return everything in one piece, as well?”
The question startled both of them. Bond looked down and Silva lifted his head so he could look as well. Q, still with his eyes closed and face lax as if asleep, repeated his question. “Did you return everything in one piece, 007?”
Another sigh. “No,” Bond drew out the answer. “But I did return-“
“Don’t care anymore,” Q huffed out. He threw off Silva’s and Bond’s hands and shifted his body until he was curled up facing him, cold nose tucked into Silva’s shoulder. Bond sat there staring at his back with his mouth hanging open in shock.
For his part, Silva couldn’t help the chuckles that bubbled their way out of him. Bond had looked so proud of whatever he was about to say thinking it would placate their little genius. “Oh, Mr. Bond! I thought you knew better by now.”
“Shut up, Tiago,” the younger of the two double-oh’s grumbled. Silva in return rolled his eyes and scoffed. Bond climbed into bed behind Q, tugging at the sheet when Q refused to relinquish his hold on it. It took several rather messy kisses to the back of Q’s neck to get a corner of the sheet to his self.
Bond forcefully wiggled his hand in between the two bodies in front of him. Once he could curve his hand around Q’s waist he snuggled up close. “Forgive me?” He curled his fingers just enough against Q’s side to get him squirming. Bond continued gently scrapping his nails against Q’s side and he planted sloppy French kisses across his lover’s left shoulder blade and neck. “I did bring back almost all the pieces. Q,” he whined, sucking a hickey right over the bony knob where Q’s neck began, “Q, I really am sorry. Forgive me? Please?”
Caught between the two Double O’s made it impossible for the Quartermaster to escape. Silva wrapped his free arm over him and around Bond’s waist to help keep him in place while Bond tortured him into pardoning him. "Fine. Fine!" Q squirmed around to face Bond. "You're forgiven. For now," he clarified. "You keep breaking or 'losing' the equipment you'll find yourself without a bed."
"Yes, Q."
Finito.
Author : to-shiki
Genre : hinted sex, fluff?
Series: Skyfall/James Bond
Pairings : 00qva, Bond/Moneypenny and Silva/Q
Rating: PG-13ish
Warnings: I failed at the sex part ;_;
Summary : A little snippet of the lives of 00qva, my newest OT3
Disclaimer : I don't own anything but the story. Trust me, if I owned Skyfall/James Bond there would have been more slashy goodness along with Moneypenny getting more screen time as well. Asiancutie93 on tumblr helped beta this the first time around so any mistakes you find are totally mine.
Working Late
The tall, well built 00 agent stalked through the dimly lit hallways of MI6 like a man on a mission. Which he was. At four o’clock in the morning, no less. His search began earlier in Q-Branch and traveled home with no luck. Now he was back at headquarters for a more in depth search.
Q-Branch was still empty. All the conference rooms were empty. The med wing was quiet with no signs of his prey. He even checked out the training rooms. No luck. The only souls he encountered on his quest thus far had been the cleaning crew on each floor. He was about to go home and check their flat again when a light in the distance caught his eye.
The cafeteria. Of bloody course. The very last, unthinkable, place anyone would bother to look for him. With an annoyed tut the blond agent walked down to the entrance of the dining area and did a visual sweep of the large room.
In a room full of tables and chairs and napkin dispensers he had picked the one closest to the serving line. No surprise since it’s right next to the coffee maker and bags of cheap tea and coffee their employers like to supply. A pot of brewed water was still on the warmer half empty. The only reason the boy would stoop so low as to drink the ‘commoners’’ tea would be if his own personal supply of loose leaf in Q-Branch had run out.
A mental note was made to restock the genius’s supply and the emergency backup hidden in his desk.
“What are you doing here still, luv, when you should be abed with me?” he tsked as he leaned against the back of Q’s chair. He purposely made a show of stealing Q’s mug of tea when his answer came in the form of keyboard typing.
“I wouldn’t if I were you,” Q warned with exhaustion clear in his voice. The agent did a double take, mug halfway to his mouth. The young man had a throw blanket over his cardigan and button up shirt, tie loosen. Only his head and hands peeked out from the blanket, wrists stick-like and glasses reflecting the screen to obscure his eyes. Normally semi-controlled messy hair was now messily hand combed several times over. He even sported a dashing five o’clock shadow.
“And why’s that?” He made sure to slurp loudly as he drank…
…before promptly spraying it all out. Thankfully for him he had excellent aim even when disgusted by nasty tea and missed Q and his laptop completely.
“Because not only is it cold but also shitty,” came the too late answer. Q grabbed a napkin and handed it over his shoulder to the still gagging double-oh. “Please stop making the janitors’ job more strenuous.”
“I’ll do my best.” The napkin was used to dab at his lips before being tossed carelessly on to the table. He yanked over a chair from the table behind them and sat down next to and half behind Q. “Which 3rd world dictator’s life are you destroying now?” He let his chin rest on Q’s shoulder while following his actions on the screen.
Q sighed in mild irritation. “No one’s, yet.” Several key strokes later he paused long enough to gulp down the icy cheap tea, haggard poker face unflinching. “Right now I’m reviewing proposals and prototype reviews. And seriously? How many times are you bloody 00’s going to ask for exploding anythings? It’s not the fifties and sixties anymore. Do you realize how much everything my department makes you lot cost? And none of you have the decency to attempt to bring back the “toys” my department makes you that don’t explode! How-“
“Shhh!” The double-oh in question, one of them anyways, cut off Q’s ramblings with a hand over his mouth. He didn’t press too hard as he remembers just how hard Q could bite when really in a snitch. “You’re strung a little tight, hmm? How many cups of that nasty tea have you had? Fifteen? Twenty? Much too much caffeine for you, I’m afraid. How about this?” He slid his hand just enough to press three fingers into Q’s welcoming mouth. “How about you be a good boy and open that window I see up top.” His other hand wrapped around the chair and pulled Q’s tie loose and onto the floor. “Yes, that one. Enlarge the window, darling, and turn up the volume.”
~*~
“Darling.”
Moneypenny shifted in her sleep. Blearily she opened her eyes to stare at the alarm clock stationed on her side of the bed. 6:28a.m. Only two hours ago did her and her partner finally fuck themselves into sleep. The sound of strangely familiar moaning caught her attention.
“Darling, your lovers are here,” the voice coming from the open laptop sang from the other side of the bed.
She reluctantly climbed over her still slumbering fellow agent. Lying against his side she clicked on the bar to maximize the video feed. What she saw woke her up completely. Mouth gapping open she reached back and smacked the other awake. “Wake up! Wake up or you’ll miss it!”
The tall, well built 00 agent sat up in bed with a start. “Wha? What is it?” He slid his hand under his pillow and grabbed the gun hidden there. Blue eyes scanned the small hotel room lit only by the laptop’s screen.
“Jus’ lookit!” Moneypenny pointed to the screen as Bond relaxed and lay back down behind her facing the laptop
There streaming live was their lovely Quartermaster fully naked bouncing up and down on Silva’s lap. He had his head thrown back resting on the older man’s shoulder as his hands covered the ones on his hips. Damp hair clung to his face; cheeks flushed pink. Another moan fell past his lips as Silva pulled him down rougher than before.
For his part Silva was still fully dressed. He had done nothing more than unzip his pants and pull out his cock.
“If you two don’t get started right now I’ll make sure that James Bond gets nothing more than a water gun and a child’s walkie-talkie for all his future missions! And you, Miss Moneypenny! You will receive a virus that will constantly play nothing but hardcore folk metal remix music at FULL VOLUME on any computer you access!” It took him several tries to get his threat out as Silva made it his business to reduce his higher brain functions to nothing.
“Well, Mr. Bond?” Eve reached back and pulled Bond lips to hers. “Should we do as the Quartermaster demands?”
ldquo;If it’s what he demands then it may be in our best interest to do so.”
~*~
It was close to 2 o’clock the next morning by the time Bond finally made it home. He was smart enough to leave a detailed report on Moneypenny’s desk while she was down in Medical to get her wrist checked out. Somehow Bond had lucked out on any injuries this time around.
Granted the same won’t be said once he gets home and announces to Q that he managed to destroy all the little gadgets he’d made him. Although he was able to bring back 97% of the parts, Bond knew the Quartermaster would still be angry with him.
Inside the flat he shucked his jacket and shoes next to the coat rack. A quick stop into the kitchen for some food that he didn’t bother to heat up and he made his way to the bedroom. A blink-and-you-miss-it pause at the doorway as he contemplated just sleeping on the couch. But it had been a long, boring (save for Moneypenny’s presence and the video sex) mission and maybe his age was catching up to him but he had honestly missed his two lovers. The old M’s worry about him building an attachment had finally happened.
That and he’s positive that Silva had bought the ugliest, most uncomfortable sofa in the world.
On purpose.
Entering the room he stripped as he walked to the bed, moonlight bleeding in through sheer curtains guiding his way. Both occupants were on their sides facing the bedroom door. Silva was curled protectively around their Quartermaster, left arm pillowing his head and right around his middle cradling Q’s right hand. A thin sheet covered them from the waist down and did nothing to hide the fact that they lay with their legs tangled together. Q's glasses lay on the bedside table along with a case containing Silva's dentures
“And the lost son finally finds his way home again.” Silva smirked lazily at Bond as the man sat down on the edge of the bed to take off his pants and socks. Absentmindedly he rubbed his thumb over the hand caught in his grasp. “Our clever boy was quite worried about you two, you know. Kept himself awake for over 48 hours keeping an eye on your mission. He’s barely woken since I got him home. Shame, shame, you two.”
Bond sighed. He shifted so he sat facing the two. “Well, I’m back. And all in one piece, may I point out,” he announced in hushed tones so as not to wake Q. From the dark circles under the eyes of the Quartermaster Silva hadn’t been lying. “No injuries to myself. Miss Moneypenny is suffering from a sprained wrist, nothing more.” He laid his hand on Q’s hip, thumb smoothing out an imaginary wrinkle. “I got the report typed up and submitted so we’ll have no interruptions this weekend unless an emergency.”
“Did you return everything in one piece, as well?”
The question startled both of them. Bond looked down and Silva lifted his head so he could look as well. Q, still with his eyes closed and face lax as if asleep, repeated his question. “Did you return everything in one piece, 007?”
Another sigh. “No,” Bond drew out the answer. “But I did return-“
“Don’t care anymore,” Q huffed out. He threw off Silva’s and Bond’s hands and shifted his body until he was curled up facing him, cold nose tucked into Silva’s shoulder. Bond sat there staring at his back with his mouth hanging open in shock.
For his part, Silva couldn’t help the chuckles that bubbled their way out of him. Bond had looked so proud of whatever he was about to say thinking it would placate their little genius. “Oh, Mr. Bond! I thought you knew better by now.”
“Shut up, Tiago,” the younger of the two double-oh’s grumbled. Silva in return rolled his eyes and scoffed. Bond climbed into bed behind Q, tugging at the sheet when Q refused to relinquish his hold on it. It took several rather messy kisses to the back of Q’s neck to get a corner of the sheet to his self.
Bond forcefully wiggled his hand in between the two bodies in front of him. Once he could curve his hand around Q’s waist he snuggled up close. “Forgive me?” He curled his fingers just enough against Q’s side to get him squirming. Bond continued gently scrapping his nails against Q’s side and he planted sloppy French kisses across his lover’s left shoulder blade and neck. “I did bring back almost all the pieces. Q,” he whined, sucking a hickey right over the bony knob where Q’s neck began, “Q, I really am sorry. Forgive me? Please?”
Caught between the two Double O’s made it impossible for the Quartermaster to escape. Silva wrapped his free arm over him and around Bond’s waist to help keep him in place while Bond tortured him into pardoning him. "Fine. Fine!" Q squirmed around to face Bond. "You're forgiven. For now," he clarified. "You keep breaking or 'losing' the equipment you'll find yourself without a bed."
"Yes, Q."
Finito.