The Worth of Your Doorway

Banner by Chestnut NOLA

Banner by Chestnut NOLA

Q has no idea why he is sleeping with James Bond, womanizer, heartbreaker, libertine… lover.

Title: The Worth of Your Doorway
Author: Chestnut NOLA
Art: beili
Beta: Xphil98197
Relationship (s): James Bond/Q
Genre: Skyfall, James Bond (Craig Movies)
Warnings: Explicit, romance, humor
Word Count: 26,308
Challenge: 00Q Reverse Big Bang 2015

Chapter 1:

The sheets were cold. It had been some time since the warm body that had slept pressed against his throughout the night had been present. Rubbing his hand along the cool cotton, Q felt the pleasurable aches and twinges that came with a good fuck. Excellent really, beyond excellent, mind blowing, phenomenal… the exact word he was looking for to describe his night with James Bond escaped him. James Bond’s prowess in bed was unparalleled to put it mildly and as advertised. The hushed buzz of gossip in the corridors of MI6, usually taken with a grain of salt, were in fact spot on. James Bond shagged like a champion and Q was an absolute physical wreck from the exertions he’d participated in throughout the night.

Q still wasn’t quite sure how it had happened, which for a genius was just idiotic. He’d headed to his local pub, the Queen & Crescent after an intolerably long day for a quiet pint. One moment he was sitting at a table alone enjoying the first few sips of his tart brew and the next James Bond was sitting across from him. He was devastatingly handsome as usual, dressed in form fitting jeans and dark blue button down open at the throat. He’d slung his hip length navy wool coat over the back of the chair and sat down before Q’s pint was a quarter of the way done.

It seemed they were Bayswater neighbors, Bond having just purchased a flat in the neighborhood. What followed was an evening of lively conversation about a variety of non-work related topics and an enjoyable pub dinner of fish and chips. James had walked him home, chatting the whole way and before Q knew it, the man was kissing him senseless.

Two heavy weights pounced on his legs accompanied by excessive yowling as eight paws climbed up his body. Alan and Steve were after their breakfast, the felines insistent in making Q move to do their bidding. He rubbed his two balls of orange and gray fluff before succumbing to their demands he get moving to break their fast.

He groaned as he moved to get out of bed. Why James Bond, Double-O agent, womanizer and all around libertine would want to have sex with his bespectacled, lanky, quite nerdy and frankly, very male, Quartermaster was a mystery. Perhaps it was in the hopes of future manipulation, Q mused sitting naked on the side of the bed. The man couldn’t bring back his equipment in one piece to save his life. Q groaned again as he stood, honestly he was too shagged out to care as to the reasons Bond had for fucking him blind right now. All he did know, was that he’d allowed himself to become another notch on 007’s bedpost and that just wouldn’t do.


The hush that fell over Q-Branch behind him registered causing Q’s hands to scuttle over the keyboard creating a garish line of code. An eyesore on his screens. He just knew 007 was striding down the middle of his branch behind him. Whenever Bond graced Q-Branch with his presence it was one of the few times the hum of his minions work would pause. The only other occurrence of the phenomenon was when M decided to visit the masses down in the bowls of MI6. Even the other Double-O’s rarely caused the noise level in the cavernous room to drop so suddenly.

Q refused to be a party to 007’s ability to cause the I.Q. level in the room to drop, so he ignored the silence behind him. He couldn’t help his irritation though and the industrious and hard use of his index finger on the deletion key probably gave him away somewhat. The hairs on the back of his nape prickled and he just knew the blue-eyed menace was standing behind him, even though his approach had been silent, cat-like.

He took his time saving his work as he addressed the agent, “007, you’re on time for once. Feeling alright?”

“Invigorated and raring to go. I had a lovely evening,” Bond replied. Q could hear a smirk in his voice. Let the games begin, he thought.

“Splendid… splendid,” Q cleared his throat and he could feel his ears getting hot. Luckily, his dark hair covered most of the evidence. He finally turned from his workstation and the heat in Bond’s cerulean gaze immediately caught his eyes. The man was absolutely fucking gorgeous, he thought; imposing and elegant in his bespoke charcoal gray suit, white button down and burgundy tie. An image of that golden muscled figure from last night flashed through Q’s mind and his mouth was suddenly very dry. Q was hoping his salivary glands would start working soon, when he noticed the state of his minions. His ten minions were staring over their monitors, necks stretched and at attention like a mob of Meerkats.

Q glowered at the lot of them until they all slunk down behind their monitors. All except, Lorraine “Lulu” Lewis who was now peaking around the side of hers, like a big brown eyed owl staring from around a tree. Lulu was the bright ginger haired ringleader who seemed to have an unholy interest in her Quartermaster’s personal and professional life. She was brilliant at coding though, so Q tried to ignore her shenanigans, unless she got the other minions organized to dole out trouble. He’d have to get R to wrangle them back into submission again he supposed. They tended to get complacent when Q ignored the office misbehavior for too long.

Satisfied his stink eye had done what it could, Q waved an amused looking Bond to follow him, “Come along, 007 and we’ll get you sorted for Malaysia.”

“Do you have any good toys for me today?” Bond asked walking along side Q down the center of his branch. The glare hadn’t worked as well as he’d thought; all eyes were on the pair until they exited the glass doors at the back of the hall and into the dank tunnels beyond. He could just hear the clamor of gossip start before the doors fully closed.

“I have a few things for you, but knowing your preferences I doubt they’ll be sparkly enough for you,” Q replied his voice droll. 007 had been harping on him for an explosive pen since they’d met six months ago and Q refused to make one for him just on principal. Bond was use to getting what he wanted and Q enjoyed thwarting him to a certain extent. It occurred to him on their trek to his lab that perhaps he was metaphorically pulling 007’s pigtails a bit. He’d have to think about that when he was less distracted, he decided.

“That’s unfortunate,” Bond murmured in Q’s ear as he entered his key code and got his retina scanned to unlock the door. His ears felt even hotter at having that intimate voice from last night so close. It sent a light shiver of arousal through Q’s frame that he could only hope Bond didn’t notice.

The lab was a smaller space full of computer components, tech, and weapons in various stages of design with secured cabinets and cages along the walls to keep Double-O fingers from swiping things unbeknownst to Q. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to the lack of windows in Churchill’s bunkers. The space lighted well, but the reflections cast over the dark red brick arches sometimes seemed ominous to Q. But, the space was quiet for his work when he needed a break from the bright lights and bustle of the main hall of Q-Branch.

“007, please try to keep your hands off the tech,” Q said heading to his workbench catching Bond in his periphery as the agent aborted touching an unfinished sniper rifle as they passed by a secondary workbench.

“You’re no fun, Q” Bond groused a bit, amusement underneath the complaint.

Q unlocked the cabinet behind his workbench, shaking his head at the agent and said with a sniff, “Well, perhaps I’d be more fun if you wouldn’t destroy your equipment on every mission. I do spend an inordinate amount of my time on it, you know.”

“It’s not really a conscious decision on my part to wreck or lose your tech, Q,” Bond replied a little tilt to the corner of his mouth gave away his delight at being scolded.

“If you weren’t so amused right now I might have believed you, 007,” Q stated before he bent to pull a metal case off a lower shelf and turned to heft onto the bench. Bond immediately sauntered over beside him, very much in his Quartermaster’s personal space. Q could feel the heat of him along his side, the feel of that heat and the remembrance of it over and in him mere hours before made his fingers clumsy inputing the code to open the case. He really would have preferred to be irritated by the agent bursting his personal bubble, but all Q felt was flustered. The heat from his ears had now been driven into his cheeks and those blue eyes were targeted—Q knew—catching every nuance of the blush and his expression.

Q took a deep breath to try and get some control over himself, but the scent of the agent—spicy high priced cologne combined with the agent’s personal musk underneath—only caused a tightening low in his groin. 007 smelled so bloody good, it was criminal for a man to be this attractive and so out of Q’s league. He cleared his throat to shake himself out of the haze of Bond’s allure. He was the Quartermaster of MI6, a grown man, and he could bloody well control himself!

“As usual, palm print encoded Walther PPK. Please try not to whip anyone about the head with it,” he said. The blond haired blue-eyed troublemaker just gave him a cheeky wink as he checked the weapon and placed it in his shoulder holster. “Earwig, try not to loose it, and distress radio.”

Bond leaned in close over Q’s shoulder. The hand he felt on his hip burned through his blue and burgundy striped trousers, a very pleasant brand against his sensitive flank.

“And that?” the agent murmured in his ear. Q hadn’t thought his ears could get any hotter, but he was very very wrong.

His voice squeaked a bit forcing him to clear his throat again, “Omega Seamaster watch.”

“I hope it does more then tell the time, Q,” Bond purred in his ear. The man was more than a menace, he was a first rate seductive rogue. Q ignored that hot hand on his hip and gave up the ghost on trying to curb his blushing. The cat was out of the bag anyway.

“There is a USB port in the clasp of the band for downloading data with a code to help you infiltrate any encrypted computers,” Q replied as he handed the watch over. At least his voice didn’t squeak this time, he thought. “Also, this button along the side activates a jamming signal that will cut off any listening devices or camera feeds within a hundred meter radius.”

Bond raised an eyebrow, “That will be useful. Thank you, Q”

“That watch costs, over five-thousand pounds without the added tech. Please try to bring it back in one piece, 007,” Q requested as he stepped away from the agent. The heat from Bond’s hand lingered on his hip. He shouldn’t have been able to get an erection after last night, but 007’s ability to seduce bespectacled Quartermasters, and pretty much anyone else he wanted, was effortless it seamed.

Blue eyes were bright with amusement as he perused Q’s countenance. That solid form moved in close—again breaking Q’s personal bubble—before leaning down to breath in his red ear, “I’ll do my best, Q.”

Heat sliced through Q’s loins settling into an insistent throb in his cock. He could only watch, breathing hard as Bond smiled and ambled out of the lab.


Damn the man! Q groused to himself. He was working—not hiding—in his office to avoid the speculative gazes of his staff. It had taken ages for his prick to subside after that rake of a Double-O agent had left. But, the previous night kept flashing through his mind, causing spikes of arousal to occur at inappropriate times. His minion horde definitely knew something was up with their Quartermaster.

Q wasn’t sure what to do about 007. This morning’s flirtation had exceeded the previous intensity of their interactions significantly. There had always been an element of attraction to the agent on Q’s part. How could he not be attracted to the man with that beautiful body, intelligent mind, and of course 007’s ears were just too adorable for a healthy gay man not to notice. He’d never thought anything could come of his crush on the blue-eyed rogue, but last night’s naked frolicking had belied Q’s belief. And if the damn intense flirting was anything to go by Q might end up in bed with 007 again. It wasn’t like he’d resisted all that much the first time. Bollocks! He thought. It was going to be extremely difficult to resist Bond if he wanted to continue shagging his Quartermaster.

There was a brisk knock coming from the bottom of his door, oddly enough.

“It’s open,” he called.

“My hands are full, sir,” R’s muffled voice passed through the glass. Q could just make out the shadow of her through the opaque glass. Sighing, he arose from his chair, limping a bit from sore shagged out muscles to open the door. His second came in laden with a full tea tray in her hands. Oh good, there were biscuits too.

R set the tray down on his coffee table before taking a seat on the sofa he kept in his office for napping when he had to spend long hours monitoring sensitive missions. Silvia Townsend was an attractive woman in her forties with sable hair and bright hazel eyes. She’d been the old Q’s second for years, groomed to take the Quartermaster position. The attack on MI6 had injured her badly and it had taken four months for her to recover from the trauma. When she’d returned, to Q’s surprise, she’d not protested his promotion to Quartermaster. She’d always been a beloved colleague and friend to Q, since she had been his direct supervisor prior in his position as one of the Q-Branch minions. He’d never asked her why she hadn’t protested his posting, but he was grateful she was his second. Lulu would have been a nightmare.

Her gaze was speculative as she pored them tea, while Q swiped a biscuit and sat down on the other end of the sofa.

“The minions are all a twitter from 007’s visit this morning,” she stated. “If they were allowed to Tweet it’d be all over the web.”

Q sighed picking up his tea to take sip. Perfect, earl grey seeped just right without sugar or cream. His stalling done he asked, “They’re not squabbling, are they?”

“No, but I believe Lulu has started a betting pool,” she replied with a smile. Her eyes were twinkling with amusement as they took him in. “The initial bet is that you shagged 007 last night. Though, looking at you now it seems as if he shagged you within an inch of your life.”

Q sniffed in indignation and avoided admitting anything by deflecting, “Can’t you rein them in a bit?”

“You can do it, if you want to Q,” she said. “But, I’m interested in how all of this plays out.”

“Oh god,” Q moaned into his tea.

Chapter 2:

Q woke slowly with an aching cock pulsing in time with his heartbeat. It took an inordinate amount of time for him to realize there was a warm heavy weight against his back, lips softly kissing his nape, and a hand underneath his sleep pants. A large hand with callused fingers was stroking the sensitive skin of his flank, delving down through the dark curls at the base of his cock. The stroking was soft over and around the core of his sex, cupping his balls gently before sliding up the shaft of his prick again. The nerve endings in his loins were alight to the point he’d been humping back and forth into the sensations in his sleep. There was also a substantial erection pressed against his buttocks.

Q’s eyes popped open, but instead of yelling in fright he ended up groaning as that large hand wrapped tight around his cock. The scent of Bond in his nose registered before Q finally found his voice, “007! What the ever loving fuck!”

“Q,” Bond rumbled as he continued to kiss and nuzzle his Quartermaster’s neck. “You can call me James when were naked.”

“Who’s naked?” Q blurted before his faculties finally came fully online. “What the hell, Bond! How did you get into my flat?”

“James… Q. Do you really want to talk about that right now?” Bond said nibbling at the joint of Q’s neck and shoulder, causing a streak of heat to shiver down his torso. Q felt around behind him and his hand filled with the pleasant feel of a firm and lush buttock. It was apparent that he had a naked Double-O agent in his bed. Who was hard and wanting: Q, of all people.

Q squeaked a bit and any thoughts he’d intended on saying escaped his brain as that hand on his cock surged in a firm grip from the root to the tip swirling around the head and back down again. He couldn’t help but thrust up into the feeling, his cock ablaze from the pressure. James did it again and again, causing Q to arch and writhe in the agent’s arms. A hand grasped his hair to stretch his neck further for a hard love bite. The slight pain rolled through him peaking his nipples making him shudder. He was wet with pre-cum, which the heated menace behind Q used to his advantage smoothing the slick around his prick. The gliding of that hand with those calluses on his cock ratcheted up the tingling in his groin, causing his eyes to roll back in his head.

Panting, Q closed his hand over James’ and worked to get his mental faculties back in order. He had to put a stop to this or he was going to cum all over himself. James stilled the hand on his cock, but kept stroking the fingers of the other through Q’s dark locks. The petting wasn’t helping to calm Q down, at all. Of course, the lips running up and down his throat may have been part of the problem too.

His brain wasn’t totally coherent, but it was lucid enough to wriggle and turn over, removing those hands and mouth from his person. Sitting up on one hand looking down at the man in his bed, he could only imaging the disheveled mess 007 had made of him. His sleep pants were bunch underneath his buttocks, his cock was hard and wet, and he was sure his unruly hair was standing on end from Double-O fingers.

The light from the street lamps slicing through the slatted blinds on his window created a blue toned sheen that enveloped the room, the bed, and the man in it. James’ eyes were dark blue almost black in the low light, but they had a soft look glimmering within them that Q had never seen before. He liked that look, even though he didn’t know what it could mean.

“You weren’t suppose to return until tomorrow,” Q said, quiet now that he was awake and had those indigo eyes on him. He felt a hand stray to his hip caressing the skin softly. It was as distracting as it was pleasurable.

“I caught an earlier flight,” James replied looking down at that hand rather than meeting Q’s eyes. “I wanted to come home.”

Home. Q didn’t know if James meant England, London, MI6, or Q’s own flat. But, he was here in Q’s bed, when James could have had practically anyone. Be with practically anyone. And he was with Q. He’d chosen Q, at least for now.

He knew he should kick James out of his bed, out of his flat, and be done with whatever it was that was happening between them. He knew at some point if he didn’t, it was going to come back and bite him in the arse, and not in a good way. He also knew he wasn’t going to do anything to remove the agent from his bed. Q wanted the man too much to do so.

Q leaned down and lifted James’ face with the tip of a finger, meeting those blue eyes with his own before saying, “You’re nothing but trouble, James.”

“Should I apologize?” he replied, his eyes crinkled at the corners with humor at Q’s statement accompanied by a smug little smirk on his handsome face. He was relaxed now that he knew Q wasn’t going to send him out the door.

“No,” Q stated before leaning the rest of the way to capture that sinful mouth with his.

His kiss was initially chaste, but quickly morphed into a deep fervor of tongues and teeth, passionate and hard. James pulled Q’s slight body ontop of his, their bare cocks rubbed wet and hot between them, the pressure exquisite. Q enjoyed taking in the low grunt James emitted against his mouth when their cocks touched. Large hands ran up his back under his t-shirt, they were brands of fire over Q’s skin. Q was able to catch some required air when the kiss broke to allow him to wriggle out of his shirt.

Everything so was sensitive. His nipples rubbing against that broad chest dusted in downy hair. His nape where one of those large hands got lost in the curls at the base of his skull to pull Q back in for another deep kiss. His lower back where another hand swept passed the delicate skin on its way to grip one of his slight buttocks tight. All Q could do was clutch and kiss and rub against the strong golden body beneath his, whimpering into his bed partner’s mouth as the pressured throbbing in his cock continued to rise.

“Fuck! Q,” James swore against Q’s lips.

Q couldn’t even speak between the kissing and his gasping breaths. He ground down hard against James, which the agent greedily returned thrusting up and grabbing Q’s behind hard in both hands cradling slim hips between his thighs. Q’s fingers dug into the James’ broad shoulders as the pressure in his loins ascended. The prickling sensation of release crested blasting through his sex, the grinding of his hips mindless as he erupted between them with a gasp. James cursed again before biting Q’s shoulder as he shuddered his own release below.

The clench of Q’s muscles released, and he went limp on top of his bed partner. The pair of them were panting from the excursion and Q could feel James’ hot breaths stirring the locks on his forehead, a mesmerizing metronome. The agent’s hands were gentle stroking up and down his sweaty back, adding to Q’s post-coital stupor.

A thought drifted through his mind as his breaths slowed that it would be rude to fall asleep with sweat and cum between them. He really ought to get up and deal with the mess, he mused drowsily. The idea drifted away with those large hands petting him to sleep.


The aroma of coffee, tea, and bacon sent Q’s acute sense of smell into overdrive pulling him from a deep sleep with the quivering of his nostrils. He was snuggled down in the duvet, his muscles lethargic with relaxation. He wasn’t quite ready to wake fully, much too comfortable in his warm bed, but the delicious scents wafting into his bedroom would not be denied. Nor would his stomach, it seemed, as the organ gave a resounding gurgle muffled under the bedclothes.

Q wasn’t much of morning person, more of a night owl really, often staying up too late working or reading to be coherent on six hours or less of sleep. He couldn’t remember the last time, he’d actually cooked himself breakfast, so the smell of the bacon was a novelty that definitely required investigation. If he could only unglue his green eyes a bit to see.

It took him a couple of tries, but he eventually succeeded, noticing his bedside clock was registering six-thirty in the morning. An ungodly hour if there ever was one, he thought. His mouth was dry and he just knew he’d been snoring like an old bulldog with his mouth open. Q often did snore if he slept deeply enough and as the events of the middle of the night came back he could understand his exhaustion.

James Bond, agent Double-O-Seven had broke into his flat, snuck into his bed, and Q had humped himself silly on the man. Good god, he thought. That was bad enough, but he’d proceeded to fall asleep on top of James to boot! Q understood from a past boyfriend—who didn’t last very long—that that type of behavior was considered rude, bordering on repellent, with sweat and cum all over the place.

His spectacles were on the bedside table and Q placed them on so he could see. He lifted the duvet to take a look and found he wasn’t covered in dry cum. James must’ve cleaned him up and his normal morning wood was nonexistent with his cock sated and soft against his thigh. Q felt a blush rise on his cheeks at the thought of 007 manipulating him in his sleep and probably listening to him snore for the rest of the night as well.

Q girded himself up to face the music, whatever that might be, and got out of bed. His pajamas were on the floor nearby, so he shimmied into them quickly before following the ambrosia that was cooking bacon to his small kitchen. At least this time he wasn’t shagged sore to the point of limping like an old arthritic man, he thought.

The mystery of his cats’ whereabouts was answered. Alan and Steve were both laying on the island counter watching James Bond cook bacon and eggs, in his black boxer briefs and white cotton vest. Q’s brain hiccuped a bit at the visual of the agent in such dishabille. His arse was perfection, Q considered, unable to help but ogle the behind that had filled his hand last night so nicely.

“Morning, Q,” James greeted with a smile that turned into a smirk, catching his Quartermaster staring at his arse as he took in Q over his shoulder.

Q cleared his throat feeling his ears turn hot as he shook himself enough to acknowledge his bed partner, “James, good morning.”

Q busied himself removing his cats from the counter. Listening to their protests helped distract him from the gorgeous figure currently cooking him breakfast.

“Have a seat,” James ordered placing a mug of tea in front of him, the scent of citrus and bergamot heavenly in his nose. A perfect morning cuppa, Q confirmed with his first sip.

It was surreal to have someone else in his flat besides his cats. It had been a very long time since Q had had a lover. He couldn’t abide idiots in his bed and would rather take care of his sexual needs by himself rather than seek it out with just anyone. James Bond was not an idiot, which was part of the problem. Q had been attracted to the agent since they’d first taken the piss out of each other at the national gallery. Q had never considered that James would be interested in him in that way, though he did know that the agent enjoyed their bantering. And now that he thought about it again, perhaps their previous interactions could be considered flirting. Well, Q had been flirting, but he didn’t think 007 had been flirting back until now. For a genius, he really was an idiot sometimes.

James laid a plateful of bacon, eggs, toast, tomatoes, and baked beans, a proper full English breakfast, in front of Q before grabbing a coffee and sitting beside him. He smiled when Q’s stomach gave a gurgling rumble in response.

Q took a fortifying sip of his tea before saying, “I apologize for falling asleep on you last night.”

“Its fine, Q,” James replied buttering his toast. “Thanks for not kicking me out of bed.”

Rather than waste a hot breakfast on a conversation he wasn’t sure he wanted to have, Q tucked into the food. There was quiet between them as they enjoyed the meal, but Q knew he’d have to address what was going on. He needed to know what James really wanted; otherwise he was going to drive himself to drink trying to figure it out. He was a genius in many ways, but sometimes regular human interactions completely escaped him. It had caused all sorts of problems for him during his childhood and adolescence. University hadn’t been a picnic in that department either.

“This may be a stupid question, but why did you come here?” He finally asked halfway through their meal.

Those blue eyes captured his gaze, serious before James answered, “I wanted to see you again.”

“See me,’” Q replied with air quotes over his plate. “Shag me more like.”

“That too,” James said with a wink before he sobered. “I like you, Q. I like you quite a lot. If it’s alright with you, I’d like to continue to see you outside of work.”

Q could feel his mouth drop open catching flies in shock, “You want to date?”

The agent grimaced at the question, “I don’t know if I would call it dating… to start?”

Q had never seen 007 unsure about anything and the question tacked on to his statement had come out hesitant. The man was even blushing a little, which was alarming and cute at the same time.

“So…just shagging?” Q said slowly.

“A bit, but no, not just shagging,” he replied with a sigh. “It’s too soon to start talking about dating and I haven’t dated in longer than I would like to admit. But, I would like to spend time with you. Perhaps as friends who are casual lovers to start?”

Q blinked at the question. Friends and casual lovers, it wasn’t a commitment and probably not monogamous, but it wasn’t a fuck buddy type of relationship either. It was more along the lines of an affair, perhaps. He needed to be careful. He was the Quartermaster of MI6 and technically James’ superior. James Bond was a Double-O, a highly trained assassin and spy for Her Majesty’s Secret Service. He could be killed in the field at any time. Would a liaison with James Bond affect his ability to be objective in his work? Would he be able to distance his feelings when James Bond was assigned an information gathering honey-pot mission? Would he be able to protect his heart when the affair was inevitably over?

All of these questions swirled in Q’s brain telling him that he should stop this situation before it had really started. If he was honest with himself, he was halfway in love with the blue-eye menace already. And he was definitely in lust for the man. It would be ill-advised to move forward as a friend and lover to James ‘Bloody” Bond.

Q nodded, “Yes… friends and casual lovers.”

Chapter 3:

Damn the man! His minions were beside themselves with excitement and speculation due to the sizable love bite that showed above Q’s shirt collar. On top of the rosy mark under the hollow of his jaw, his lips were still red and swollen from 007 snogging him stupid as he was leaving that morning. If James had wanted to mark Q as his territory, he’d done a bloody good job of it.

Q really shouldn’t have agreed to be ‘friends and casual lovers’ with James Bond. He’d passed from idiocy in regards to the man and the situation he found himself in, to just plain madness. 007’s ability to make Q lose his higher brain functions was an annoying trait, but more aggravating was Q’s inability to resist succumbing to the agent’s charms. He comforted himself with the thought that it had been so long since he’d been with anyone that way; he was a bit touch-starved as a result.

James Bond was an enigma Q wouldn’t mind trying to figure out on top of his attraction to the man. He knew that the agent had lost much as a result of his work with MI6 and that he was an orphan, tragedy striking early in James’ life. Q had read the agent’s full file, so knew that at one point James had put in his resignation for love. He’d been capable of loving someone. Q knew it was probably a fantasy that James Bond could possibly love his Quartermaster, but the hope was there nonetheless.

“Quartermaster,” a lyrical low voice said close behind him. It startled Q, so immersed in his swirling thoughts, coding on instinct, and ignoring Lulu and his minions, that he’d not been aware of the agent’s approach.

He cleared his throat to cover his discomfit, “Ah, 004. Ready for your mission?”

He finished the line of code he’d been working on and saved his work before turning to take in the Double-O agent standing close behind him. The man was practically breathing down his Quartermaster’s neck! All of the Double-O’s had the elements of danger, charm, and intelligence around their being that served them well in the field. And often the ability to surprise Quartermaster’s and scatter Q-Branch minions with ease.

Brent Harrison, agent 004 was an attractive man at thirty-six years old. A fairly new Double-O, a bit arrogant, but that wasn’t unusual for a field agent. He towered over Q at six-foot-three and was slender—more in line with an Olympic swimmer—with a deep chest and broad shoulders. His oval face was adorned with high cheekbones, an aristocratic slope to his nose, and creamy hue to his skin that complimented his dark ginger hair and hazel eyes. Though in Q’s opinion, his ears and eyes didn’t hold a candle to 007’s, nor his facial features that made him look as snooty as he was unable to compete with James’ rugged affable countenance.

The agent didn’t answer Q’s question, rather he was eying his Quartermaster’s swollen lips and love bite before his gaze swept down Q’s form.

“You’re looking well rested, Q,” the agent stated. “Resplendent as usual.”

Well shagged, Q thought before he replied, “You may need to go to Medical, 004 and get your eyes checked.”

“I like the look of you, Quartermaster,” the agent replied with a smirk his hands in the pockets of his black bespoke suit set off with an emerald silk button down and black tie.

Q knew his preference for jumpers and check trousers caused others—field agents and executive branch as he thought of it—to often look upon his nerd chic with derision. This morning his armor consisted of his favorite plum colored cardigan, lilac button down set off with a light green striped tie and dark blue and yellow striped trousers. He like the color combination with the addition of his maroon oxfords and didn’t care if his choices made 004’s eyes water. His position was stressful and choosing color in the morning and seeing it throughout the day helped to relax him. Besides, James enjoyed seeing what color combinations Q would choose each time he was in MI6.

Q didn’t respond to the agent’s flirtation beyond trying to look down his nose at the man. It didn’t work out well, being short of stature at five-nine compared to 004. His look of irritation didn’t deter Harrison from stepping further into his Quartermaster’s personal space. He even had the cheek to place a hand on Q’s hip!

“You have the look of a man with a lover, Quartermaster,” Harrison breathed into Q’s ear. He could hear the minions’ murmuring rise behind him, before Lulu shushed them. Probably trying to hear what the agent was whispering in his ear. “If I’d known you were on the lookout for a paramour, I would’ve tossed my hat in the ring.”

Q scoffed and gingerly removed the long fingered hand from his person. He was completely unmoved by the touch, unlike the charged zing that always accompanied 007’s.

“I’d advise you to keep your hands to yourself, 004,” the growled statement made Q jump in surprise, though it didn’t seem to startle Harrison.

James Bond was standing center stage in Q-Branch, stunning in a dark blue suit, white collared shirt with a tie the color of blood. His casual stance belied the threat in his voice and eyes, dark indigo fixed with animosity at the Double-O currently still residing in Q’s personal space. The heat of arousal rushed through him at the sight of his new lover. Of course the passion was somewhat contained with Q’s irritation at both agents, 004 for putting his unwanted hands on him, and 007 for butting in and assuming Q couldn’t rebuff unwanted advances.

Q moved to step away from the ginger haired agent, but a possessive hand on his shoulder aborted his movement. There was absolute silence in his branch, both Double-O’s still as death before 007 erupted in a flurry of movement. Q ended up on his behind on the floor when 004 pushed him away to meet Bond head on.

Stunned Q watched the pair of them wrestle down the center of Q-Branch in their bespoke suits. And they were not pulling their punches as his minions dispersed with vigor to the sides of the room.

“Not his face, 007!” Q yelled from his position on the floor. “He’s going on assignment!” James aborted an uppercut aimed at Harrison’s jaw to instead strike the man on the ear receiving a howl of rage from the younger agent.

By the time Q got up off the floor, Lulu had a ring of her colleagues around her making cash bets on the outcome of the altercation. He was pleased to hear that the cheering section egging the agents on seemed to be skewed in 007 favor, though why he was rooting for his troublemaker of a lover was beyond him at the moment.

Harrison had gotten some licks in to James’ face in return as evident from his bloody lip, which was snarled in pleasure at the fight. 004 may have had a few inches of height on James Bond, but his lover’s solid body retaliated with powerful blows to the agent’s torso. The handsy ginger haired bugger was going to have some cracked ribs to show for his arrogant sexual advance on his Quartermaster.

Q refused to add to the din of voices and grunts occurring in his domain. He stalked quickly to his office to retrieve his special self-defense pen—007 harping on him for an exploding pen had resulted in a creative secret little toy for Q’s personal use—before he stalked back down the middle of the main room honing in on the two agents now making a racket against the glass doors that led into the branch. James had 004 cornered against the glass, his punches harsh thumps under the panting and the grunting above.

Q cleared his throat before saying, “Agents… agents… Oi!”

There was no response from either of them to their Quartermaster’s calls. Well, it was their funeral for ignoring him, Q thought and readied his pen. It was a non-descript average black and chrome pen, totally boring to look at and so not at risk from thievery from a certain Double-O. He pointed it between two fingers with precision at the pair and gave the end a click with his thumb. The nib retracted and a blast blue electrical charge erupted from the end to briefly encase the agents. Shouts of pained surprise accompanied the convulsive clenching of muscles before Q released the charge sending both Double-O’s to the floor.

Not unlike the Emperor electrocuting Luke Skywaker in The Return of the Jedi. Most satisfying and quite fun, Q considered in satisfaction. He couldn’t help the grin on his face at seeing the two assassins on the floor of his branch laid low by the head geek. Added to his pleasure was the wails of despair from his minions for ending the fight without the final outcome to close the betting.

“Now, if you two are quite finished disrupting my branch, either please head to Medical or be quiet and follow me to the lab so I can get 004’s kit for his mission and receive whatever tech 007 still has in one piece from his,” Q clicked the pen to disarm it before placing it in his shirt pocket and tugging his cardigan down to straighten it from the ruckus.

004’s gaze was murderous on Q while 007’s eyes were brilliant with humor and fascination.


004 stormed out of M’s office and Q could practically see the storm cloud hovering over the agent’s head. The slam of the exterior door was a rifle boom echoing in the silence afterward.

“Well, someone’s not happy,” Eve stated with one of her slim dark brows raised in amusement at Q sitting relaxed with his legs crossed on the sofa in the outer office of the Executive Branch.

“Hopefully, he’s learned that it is unwise to place unwanted hands on his Quartermaster,” Q said primly before taking a sip of tea he’d received from Eve while he was waiting for M to get done dressing down his agents. “If he ever does it again or places his hands on one of my minions in that way, I’ll castrate him.”

“There’s only one Double-O you allow to touch you without consequences, Q,” she replied. Q quite liked Eve Moneypenny; she was beautiful, smart, and kind, so Q put up with her teasing most the time.

He gave her a derisive scoff, “I have no idea what you’re talking about Miss Moneypenny.”

His response only made her smile widen and Q thought her humor at the situation was totally inappropriate.

“That’s a colorful love bite, by the way,” Eve said.

Q just gave her a frown for pointing the blemish out. He knew she knew that 007 was the responsible party, but Q refused to confirm her suspicions. It wouldn’t surprise him to find out Eve had cash money on the line in Lulu’s betting pool. He really needed to do something about that, he mused. Though if he found the pool on the servers and deleted it, most likely Lulu had a low-tech hard copy on hand as a countermeasure.

The padded door to M’s office opened and 007 sauntered out, unrepentant and vibrating with satisfaction. He had a bruise on his jaw, a swollen lip, and his pricy suit was ripped at the seams of one shoulder. Damn the man! He never did what Q expected. James had just had a dressing down with the head of MI6 and probably received a reprimand in his file. But, instead of frustration and anger like 004, the agent was quite happy with the results of his handy work in Q-Branch.

“Miss Moneypenny, you’re ravishing as usual,” James stated giving Eve an appreciative look. “I’ll have some downtime for the next few day according to M.”

“Whatever will you do with yourself, James?” Eve inquired with a smile.

James gave Q a wink as he replied, “I’m sure I’ll find some company to keep me entertained, Moneypenny.”

Q just glowered at the pair of them refusing to take the bait. Of course 007’s smile widened in delighted response to his Quartermaster’s frown.

“Quartermaster? I’m ready for you,” M’s voice rumbled through the monstrosity of a leather-padded door.

“I’ll take my leave then,” James stated giving Q another wink. “Miss Moneypenny… Q, have a lovely afternoon.”

Q finished up his tea admiring 007’s figure as the blue-eyed menace left with a slight swagger in his step. Moneypenny was smiling after the agent before she turned her eyes to Q.

“Good luck, Quartermaster,” she said before she picked up her desk phone to make a call. As Q headed into M’s office, he heard Moneypenny’s voice float behind him as she contacted Lulu with an update for the betting pool.

Gareth Mallory, the new M, was doing an excellent job in Q’s opinion. The man had had some big shoes to fill with the death of Olivia Mansfield, but Mallory was no pushover and he could play the political game with precision. His ability to be both a strong leader and political foe had kept MI6 afloat and thriving after the previous M’s death. Q liked the new M very much; he had a droll humor that Q found challenging and Q always enjoyed a challenge. That was probably why he was so addicted to 007’s charms; the agent was nothing if not stimulating, keeping Q on his toes intellectually and now physically.

M waved Q to sit across from him then sat at his desk. “Quartermaster,” he started giving Q a small smile. “004 and 007 have been reprimanded for their fisticuffs in your branch; however, that neat little gadget may have been punishment enough.”

“Thank you, sir,” Q replied. “I apologize for the disruption in your day.”

“No need to apologize Q,” he said. “I believe the culprits are the ones who need to apologize to you. Though I think getting an apology out of either of them will be like pulling teeth.”

If—when—the Double-O ended up in Q’s bed again, he’d make the blue-eyed troublemaker apologize in a different fashion, he thought with a low flutter in his tum. He’d have to keep an eye on 004 though. The likelihood the newer agent would cause more difficulties for him and his branch was high at the moment. Perhaps, he could sic Lulu on him, he mused. She was a nightmare to work with organized, informed, and vicious when needed. And the agent wouldn’t intimidate her.

“I won’t hold my breath, sir,” Q replied returning M’s grin with one of his own.

“I watched the surveillance footage,” M said. “Do you want additional sanctions placed on 004 for his sexual advance?”

Q shook his head in the negative, “Not at this time, Sir. I don’t believe it would do any good to add to the reprimand already given. I’ll keep an eye on him though and if he gets out of line again with me or one of my techs, we’ll deal with the situation then.”

“It’s your call, Quartermaster,” M replied serious before a spark of humor arose on his countenance. “Your new gadget is interesting by the way and I think would be useful for some of our non-agent personnel to have. Would it be too difficult to make more?”

Q smiled pleased that his work was appreciated, “It’s a fairly simple design, but I do want to test it some more… but perhaps not on living personnel this time.”

“Please do so, I’ll send you a listing of personnel I would like to outfit with the device,” M replied grinning before eyeing the love bite on Q’s neck. “007 wouldn’t normally go after another Double-O even if they were misbehaving in the way 004 was with you. Do you know why he was set off this morning?”

Q’s cheeks went hot with M eyeing the blemish on his throat, “Ah, no. I’m not quite sure why 007 felt I needed defending this morning. I’m more than capable of handling any of the Double-O’s.”

Q was absolutely not going to get into a discussion with his superior about his new lover. It would be like having the sex talk with his father, or worse his mum.

“Well, as you know the fraternization rules here are fairly lax for our personnel,” M said. “But, if two service members were to get involved romantically, paperwork needs to be submitted. Of course there is always a concern that objectivity will become difficult during missions involving romantic partners.”

Q cleared his throat to cover his discomfort with the direction of the conversation. Until he figured out what he and James were actually doing—beyond shagging each other senseless—there was no need for M to butt his long nose into Q’s business.

“I can assure you, sir,” Q stated wishing he were as confident as he sounded. “Beyond my usual difficulties with 007, there is no need to be troubled.”

Chapter 4:

It seemed that Q had a Double-O agent hanging around his flat for the weekend. James Bond was sitting on his sofa, reading one of his science fiction books, and being adored by Alan and Steve. Q found his cats’ adoration of his new lover too cute to be irritated. They’d certainly hated his previous boyfriend and had caused no end of trouble for Q with their protests. Beyond the ‘it’s rude to fall asleep covered in cum’ situation, Alan defecating in his boyfriend’s expensive Prada shoes had been the nail in the coffin of that relationship.

James had just returned the previous evening from rescuing the British Ambassador assigned to Libya. The mission had cut short 007’s punishment of downtime from his altercation with 004 in Q-Branch. The man had only had enough time to listen to Q’s scolding that evening before he was sent off to extract the ambassador from terrorists. Luckily, the mission was a success with damage done to only the terror cell rather than the ambassador or James. He’d even come back with most of his equipment intact. Q thought this was the best way for 007 to apologize for his possessive behavior two weeks before.

For some reason James found Q’s scolding to be adorable and had said so before being ridden vigorously by his Quartermaster in punishment for his cheek. Of course, the evening’s punishment was more a pleasure for both of them, but Q couldn’t regret it. It wasn’t every day a man like James Bond found Q to be captivating and attractive. It seemed to Q as if his lover liked him just as he was and had no interest in changing him in anyway. It was a novelty, since Q’s previous experience in relationships had taught him that he had to change his ways in order to keep a lover. James didn’t even mind that Q fell asleep straight away after shagging and snored loud enough to wake the dead. He just cleaned Q and himself up then wrapped himself around the boffin to hold him close throughout the night.

He was in so much trouble, Q thought staring at James reading in a soft gray t-shirt and red tartan sleep pants with two fluffy felines nestled down on his broad chest and along the nook created by his legs crossed across the sofa cushions. Their purring contentment was so loud Q heard it in the bedroom as he dressed for the day.

James looked up from his book when Q sat down to put on his shoes, “Where are you off to today?”

“I’m meeting my sister for lunch then I have a few errands to run,” Q stated eyeing James who had a love bite of his own just below his ear. It had been very satisfying for Q to place it there this morning.

James raised a brow and Q could see the curiosity start to glimmer in those blue eyes. This could be a bit of a problem, Q considered, before looking down to finish tying his blue oxfords.

“Sister?” James inquired. “Older or younger than you?”

“Amelia is my twin sister, older by one minute,” Q replied, then added in a wiry tone. “Which means she thinks she’s the boss of me most of the time.”

“Say it isn’t so, Q!” James exclaimed in mock horror. “I didn’t think there was another person on earth as bossy as you.”

Q leveled a long look on James and wasn’t completely successful in keeping the smile that wanted to burst out contained. James’ teasing him was pleasant, but it wouldn’t do to give that little tidbit away. That 007 could be merciless not only in spycraft, but reducing Q to a giggling creature was just beyond the pale in Q’s esteemed opinion. So he just rolled his eyes and got up to grab another cup of tea before he headed out. It helped to hide the silly grin on his face from James’ antics. The teasing combined with his cats’ aggressive love for the agent was just too charming to abide with a straight face.

He finished preparing his cuppa and topped off James’ coffee before heading back to the living room with the aromatic brews.

“Ta, Q,” James said as he received his coffee he lay his book open along the back of the sofa to hold his place. Q quite liked that James didn’t disturb his fluffy babies from their nesting on the agent’s solid body. “Is Amelia as brilliant as you?”

“No, fortunately,” Q replied around a sip of his tea. “Unfortunately, she is still highly intelligent and a saucy wench to boot. She has a hard time keeping boyfriends for long, but keeps poking me about dating.”

Q had no idea why he’d let that detail slip when he saw the curiosity in James’ blue eyes increase. Added to that the raised blond brow and slight curl to the agent’s generous mouth, Q now knew why 007 was so good at charming secrets out of his marks. The man was just devastating… handsome, charismatic, fascinating, and sadly emanated enough sex appeal to choke a horse.

“She sounds like a handful,” James said then looked down into his coffee avoiding Q’s eyes for a moment. “I’d be interested in meeting her.”

Q’s eyes widened in surprise, “You want to meet my sister?”

James had that closed look on his face, the countenance that hid what he was feeling. The blankness had happened so suddenly, Q felt like he had a bit of whiplash trying to keep up.

Still speaking into his coffee, James replied, “Yes, we’re friends aren’t we? Friends meet each other’s families don’t they?”

“Well… yes. I suppose they do,” Q replied a bit befuddled at the turn of the conversation. He wasn’t quite sure what James wanted from an encounter with his nosy sister. But, the warmth in his tum at James’ words over road his common sense. “I guess you can come to lunch and meet her if you really want to.”

The mask fell and James face and eyes were again, alight with humor and for some reason excitement on Q. The agent gently moved Alan and Steve from their nests, giving his boys a loving stroke in apology before surging up from the sofa.

“I’ll just be a tic,” he said. “I’ve already showered.”

Bewildered, Q just watch James’ fantastic behind as he headed into Q’s bedroom to get dressed. Good god, he was in so much trouble.


“Just so you’re aware, I go by my given name of Edwin,” Q stated as he and James headed toward the Thai restaurant where they were meeting his sister. “Amelia and my parents don’t know I work for MI6, of course. They just think I’m the head geek at Universal Exports.”

“Edwin?” James replied satisfaction in his face at finding out something new about Q. “Not Ed or Eddy?”

“If you shorten my name to either of those, I’ll have your bollocks for breakfast, James,” Q said with an affronted sniff.

“Understood,” James raised his hands in submission, his face alight with humor at Q’s threat to his person. Then he added, “Edwin.”

Damn the man! Q thought as the sound of his real name came out of the agent in an intimate rumble. It caused a shiver of desire to run down his spine. God forbid, James said his name in bed. Q could just envision that there was going to be premature ejaculation in his future with his name being whispered from his lover’s lips in his ear.

Another shiver ran through him when James’ hand settled on the small of his back guiding him around the lunchtime crowd on the street. Amelia was standing waiting for them on the pavement looking beautiful as always. His twin loved color as much as Q did, but her choices tended to be subtler and less likely to cause watering eyes than his. They were twins in every sense of the word even though they weren’t identical, but Amelia’s countenance and form were really just a female version of Q’s. Though, she was shorter of stature at five-six, but the three inch heals she always wore almost allowed her to tower over her brother. Why she insisted on wearing those torture devices was beyond Q, but he did admire her ability to be quick on her feet with them on. Q had seen first hand how useful a defensive weapon they were. Luckily, Amelia only used her powers of the spiked heel for good and defending her brother from being mugged when they were out clubbing a few years ago. Q wondered briefly if the culprit had ever fully recovered from his ruptured testicle in prison.

“Orli!” she yelled waving widely when she spotted them with her jade eyes. Her wavy black hair was in a bob, the curls at the ends caressing her chin and ears. She too had chosen lavender to wear for their lunch date in the form of a figure-hugging button down with a high collar. Combined with her comfortable jeans, blue spiked heals, and open Anorak coat she matched Q nicely. They always seemed to wear the same things when they got together. Q figured they had a bit of twin sense between them, since they never consulted each other on how they were going to dress. It was creepy according to his last boyfriend. Of course, Amelia’s hatred of the man had matched Alan and Steve’s. Obviously, his cats and twin were good judges of character. Q wondered what she’d make of James.

“Orli?” James whispered.

Q flapped a hand, “Hush.”

“Oof!” Q grunted as he was pulled into a tight hug.

“Sweetie! It’s been so long since I’ve seen you,” she stated squeezing Q even tighter. He could just imagine how she was eyeing up James over his shoulder.

“I just saw you two weeks ago,” Q protested giving her a squeeze of his own, satisfied when he caused a small chirp to escape from her throat.

She let him go to study his face with a smile, “You know I have withdrawals if I don’t see you at least once a week. I need to make sure you haven’t become a cyborg.”

Q rolled his eyes at the hyperbole, though he couldn’t stop the smile he gave her. His sister had always been a delight and his best friend. They’d rarely fought when they were children. Of course, Q usually gave in to whatever schemes or trouble Amelia wanted to get into. Content to follow her path of destruction, pitching in wherever he could.

“And who’s this?” Amelia asked eyes laser sharp on the solid form at Q’s back.

James took her hand and with a kiss to the back of it said, “Bond, James Bond.”

Q’s eyes were going to pop out of their sockets if he couldn’t control his eye rolling. He should have known that James would bring out the charm.

“Amelia,” she replied then gave her brother a light punch to his arm. “Orli, why didn’t you tell me you had a boyfriend?”

Q opened his mouth to reply but James beat him to it, “We just started dating several weeks ago.” Then asked with a grin, “Orli?”

“I’m not surprised he hasn’t told you yet,” she said in delight. Oh no, here it comes, Q thought. “His full name is Orville Edwin, James.”

“Orville?” James replied laughter in his voice.

Q just gave him an offended huff, “It’s an old family name. And don’t you ever use it!”

“Yes, you’d best not, James,” Amelia cut in. “I got the better deal with Amelia Shelby.”

“A beautiful name to be sure, Amelia,” he replied. “Obviously, we haven’t been dating long enough for Edwin to give me such privileged information.”

The pair of them were going to be a calamity for Q, particularly if they liked each other. He was defenseless, except perhaps he could threaten to hold coitus hostage from James if the blue-eyed instigator’s teasing got out of hand. Though, it would be as much a punishment for him, but in the end it might be his only recourse when dealing with the man.

“Well, you’re much more charming than the last one, James,” she said happily taking the courtly arm that James held out for her.

“Thank you, my dear,” James said with a satisfied grin. “Our relationship is so new, Edwin hasn’t really given me the scoop on you or his family yet.”

Amelia turned twinkling eyes on Q, “Well, I’ll just have to tell you all about it, James.”

Q stood on the pavement watching his lover 007—assassin and secret agent extraordinaire—gallantly lead his twin into the restaurant. Their heads bent close together chatting, already thick as thieves in the space of five bloody minutes. He caught Bond wink at him over his shoulder, his lover’s mirth and excitement evident on his face.

Q looked up to the gloom of London’s sky with a sigh wondering what he’d been thinking to bring James to meet his saucy bit of goods twin sister. Luncheon was going to be very interesting.


“I like your sister,” James murmured in the quiet of the park. “She’s just as droll as you are, but less snooty.”

Q gave him a pinch to the forearm wrapped around his own before giving James a little hip chuck in additional punishment for the statement.

“She’s a good egg,” Q replied smiling. “And she liked you too. We’re very close.”

Lunch had been full of laughter and fun between the three of them. James, of course, had teased out all sorts of information from his sister about him, practically charming the pants off her as expected. The agent had been generally interested in Amelia’s life and work as well, and the conversation had drifted often to the commonality of the love of books between the three of them.

Amelia had regaled James with stories of the twins’ childhood and the trouble Q had followed her into. Her hanging Q out the barn hayloft at their grandparents farm with a bit of baling twine around his waist had been a particular hit, as well as the end result of the fright they’d given their Grandmum when she saw him swinging over the manure pile from the kitchen window. It had been all Amelia’s idea to be sure and of course Q had just done what she told him. To Q’s satisfaction James had been red in the face from laughing at the end of the tale.

It had surprised Q when James had talked at length about his own childhood at Skyfall and his parents before their deaths. He’d stayed away from discussing his teen years and Amelia—smarty pants that she was—had just offered her condolences with a pat to his hand and moved the conversation forward. Some of James’ scrapes in the Navy were a bit of an eye opener, so Q figured he’d learned quite a lot about his lover in return for Amelia spilling all of his secrets.

Q was happy in the moment, savoring the contented air between the two of them as they enjoyed a slow post lunch stroll in Regents Park. He could just imagine that they were actually dating, partners in love and work. It was a dangerous fantasy, but he wouldn’t let the idea that the affair would end eventually sour such an exceptionally delightful day.

Chapter 5:

The Q Branch Minion Horde—Q felt the need for capitalization of the moniker even in his head—were jubilant this morning on the state of the betting pool. Some of their rabid curiosity as to the status of their Quartermaster’s new relationship had been assuaged when 007 had escorted Q into his branch with a possessive hand on the small of his back. Unrepentant, Lulu had posted additional categories of betting on one of the monitors right then and there. It had amused James to no end and he gave the ginger tech a flirtatious wink when he left to meet with M.

Q was secretly amused as well, though he did worry a bit about his minion’s morale if—when—the affair with James crashed and burned. The pot had grown considerably to more that five thousand pounds. Q decided he was going to have to insist on receiving a ten percent commission on the final outcome. The situation was completely unprofessional. However, Q had found that the stress of work in the branch to support and bring home agents alive could be alleviated somewhat by allowing his techs to misbehave on a regular basis, though practical jokes were discouraged due to the disruption they could cause. Luckily, he had R to help him keep the minions in line when needed.

Currently, Q was in his lab preparing a kit for James’ next mission to Syria. He was more worried than usual, but didn’t think it was because of his feelings for 007. The region was extremely volatile and his agent wouldn’t have any ground support, only Q’s ability to move satellites and infiltrate communications. He worried about all of his agents, but was often incredibly stressed when there was a lack of ground support or little to no appropriate societal infrastructure in place to help his agent’s escape if they needed to. A white Englishman in the region was going to stand out, making the mission even more difficult. Q comforted himself with the knowledge that James was not a defenseless journalist or aid worker. Q decided he’d pull in the Royal Marines if needed and sent a text to Lulu to make sure Command had a team ready.

A buzzing shot through the room alerting Q that he had a visitor. The security monitors showed James giving him a wave and smile waiting patiently for Q to release the door. As James sauntered in to the lab, Q tried to suppress the smile that wanted to adorn his face at seeing his lover. He wasn’t entirely successful and 007’s gaze honed in on the little curl on the edge of Q’s lips as he ambled toward his Quartermaster.

“007,” Q greeted him formally. “Everything go well with M?”

“Q… as well as could be expected with the intel we have,” James replied. His azure eyes were caressing Q’s face and he had a contented aura about him, but with a bit of tension building that was evident in the lines at the corners of his mouth. 007 was slowly replacing James, compartmentalizing in preparation for the mission. It was fascinating for Q to watch the change start to happen.

“I’ll be working while you’re en route to see if I can dig up any new information about the situation on the ground,” Q said fiddling a bit with the tech waiting on his bench. “You’ll have no ground support, but I will have a team of Royal Marines on standby in case things go tits up and you need extraction.”

“M’s not going to be happy with the hit to the budget for that, Q,” James stated stilling Q’s fidgeting fingers with a subtle caress of his own.

“Well, if the pot in Lulu’s betting pool gets any larger, I can allocate the stake to reimburse the budget,” Q replied primly. James’ chuckling at his statement was satisfying as was the released some of 007’s tension.

“Oh to be a fly on the wall to that conversation,” he said before moving into Q’s personal space.

“My job is to make sure MI6’s agents have what they need to be successful,” Q said hating how breathy the words came out with James’ close proximity. “Field agents are not just tools to be used and discarded.”

“With the amount of scolding we’ve received from you and your minions over the last eight months, that is abundantly clear,” James murmured giving Q’s fringe a playful tug. “I trust you with my life, Q and I know the others do as well.”

Q felt his cheeks heat in response, pleasure at the confirmation that his agents did know he cared for them. He cleared his throat to cover his discomfit, “Yes… well, I’m not above accepting presents in thanks.”

James gave his ear a slight nibble before whispering, “I’ll make sure they all know when I get back.”

“Good,” Q had to noisily clear his throat again to lower his voice to a more reasonable octave. His ear lobe was still burning from James’ lips. “Now, let’s get you sorted for the hell-hole you’re going into.”

James rubbed his hands together wiggling his eyebrows at Q, “Excellent! What have you got for me?”

Q eyed his lover in consternation before replying, “Since this is a stealth mission, hopefully you can resist creating your normal pandemonium for the twelve hours you’ll be on the ground, 007.”

James just gave him a hum, his fingers, less then subtle, headed toward the large carryall on the bench. Q gave the digits a light slap in reprimand before he worked the zipper open. Impertinent, his lover just tucked himself close to Q, a large swath of heat against his side.

“You’ll be going in at night, so black fatigues with enough pockets for all the little survival bits you’ll need to see you through the night,” Q started before pulling out a firearm to hand to James. “A modified FN P90 with palm print encoding, in case anyone gets it way from you.”

“Nice, Q,” James murmured looking down the sight of the gun.

“Additionally, I’ve created a sniper extension that doubles as a silencer,” Q handed over the piece for James to attached. “Lastly, a small grenade launcher that will attach to the bottom of the barrel. Hopefully, since this is suppose to be a covert mission, you’ll not need it.”

James was caressing the piece like he did Q’s diminutive buttocks. The action caused all sorts of fluttering to start up in Q’s tum. Both the agent and the weapon were in perfect order and gorgeous to behold. And they were both Q’s, at least for the time being.

“Beautiful,” James stated before turning those blue eyes on his Quartermaster. “Just beautiful, Q.”

Q figured his lover was talking about the weapon, but that heated gaze on his belied the thought. It made Q feel beautiful ratcheting up the butterflies in his stomach and the heat in his cheeks. To cover his confusion he pulled opened the metal case that had been waiting on the bench.

“A K-bar with belt holder, a long range radio to clip to your shoulder with ear and mic attachment,” he said handing each item for 007 to examine. “It’s sturdy enough that it should withstand the elements on the ground. Of course your Walther PPK and another Omega Seamaster watch. This watch has the surveillance jammer like the previous one, but is also encoded with your fingerprints. If you place any one of your fingers over the watch face and press three times it will arm the explosive embedded within it. You’ll have two minutes to get out of blast range, which is about ten meters.”

“That will be useful if I get captured, Q,” James said admiring the item.

“That is its intended function, 007,” Q replied. “Hopefully, you won’t need to use it. And that’s it.”

“It’s not an exploding pen, but its more than enough Q,” James said. “Thank you.”

Q huffed to hide his smile at his lover’s continued wheedling about his want of an exploding pen from his Quartermaster. The man was relentless in all ways.

“Yes, well try to bring my tech back without too much damage,” Q replied as he packed up the equipment. “A military transport is ready for you and I’ll be on the comms when you arrive in twelve hours.” He finished his fussing and stood back from the bench and his lover to say, “Good luck, 007.”

James moved in close, pressing his forehead against Q’s. He couldn’t help but breathe the spicy scent of his lover in one last time in the silence of the lab. Strong arms wrapped around him and he clutch James to him in return.

“I’ll be back, Q,” he whispered before pulling Q in tighter. A shaky sigh escaped Q and for the first time since the affair had started, he was truly afraid his lover might not return in one piece. The evidence that their affair was not a good idea washed over him for a moment, before he shook away the thought. He was going to be with this magnificent man for as long as he was allowed and if or when it ended he could only hope his heart wouldn’t shatter into pieces.


The heavenly smell of his favorite pub’s fish and chips wafting into his sensitive nose brought Q out of the fugue zone of coding and hacking he’d been immersed in. He’d left his office door propped open so he could commune better with his minions as his branch worked industriously to tease any new information out of the shadows for 007’s mission. He only had two Double-O’s on missions at the moment and R’d been handling 004’s in Prague. To his surprise, the young agent had been actually listening to her advice and instructions. Since Harrison’s altercation with 007 six weeks before the agent had had a complete turn around in attitude. Of course, Q assigning Lulu to be his handler for a few missions right after the debacle had probably influenced 004’s good behavior somewhat. Q was satisfied that his agent was appropriately afraid of future retribution from Q-Branch’s supreme overlord. The man had even brought Q specialty tea from India when he’d returned from his last mission.

Moneypenny accompanied the ambrosia that was fish and chips, her arms loaded full of take away bags followed by Tanner and a few other staff from the executive branch. His minions swarmed around Tanner like a barbarian horde that had been starving in the cold too long. Moneypenny deftly avoided the melee to enter Q’s office with a grin.

“Time to take a break, Quartermaster,” she stated placing the aromatic bags on his coffee table before taking a seat and started to unpack the spoils. “You and the minions have been at it for nine straight hours and you can’t survive on Earl Grey alone.”

Rubbing his eyes, his spectacles getting lost in his fringe, Q grunted, “Huh. I didn’t realize it’d been so long. It’s a wonder Lulu hasn’t stage a mutiny yet.”

“Well, she did call me with concern for your welfare, Q,” she replied. “Though you didn’t hear that from me.”

Q stood and stretched, his back gave a satisfying loud crack making him shiver in pleasure for a moment. He surreptitiously rubbed the feeling back in his buttocks—though Moneypenny caught him at it with a smirk—before heading over to the sofa to be fed.

“Ta, Moneypenny,” he said taking an appreciative sniff of the food. “You are all that is graceful and kind in the world.”

She smiled pulling her own portion close before saying, “Well, you need to be on your game for this one rather than faint with hunger, Q.”

His eyes closed and a groan escaped when the battery goodness with just the right amount of vinegar burst over his taste buds. He really had needed to eat, he thought. Gazing out over his branch, he could see that Tanner and company were gone, though he was pretty sure his minions were just eating fish and chips rather than executive staff. He was tired and hungry… his internal hyperbole was just ridiculous.

“He’ll be ok, Q,” she murmured her voice soft and questioning. “007 is resourceful. They all are.”

He sighed closing his eyes for a second before saying, “I know. They are the best at what they do, but this situation is even more dangerous than normal, Eve.”

“And he has you and the minions to help bring him home,” she replied, confident.

“I hope it’ll be enough,” Q said.

They were silent for a little while working through their dinner before Eve inquired, “Is it harder for you, now that you’re sleeping with him?”

Q looked to his friend, if he could talk to anyone besides his twin, Eve was the one.

“Before I talk about this, you have to promise not to inform Lulu,” Q said. “It’ll affect the betting pool unduly.”

Eve smiled, “You have my word, Quartermaster that anything said here will not be uttered anywhere else.”

“And no making additional bets!” Q ordered with a smile.

“Agreed,” she replied with a hand up in supplication. “Alright, stop stalling and answer the question, Q.”

Q ran his fingers through his hair in agitation, “Yes, it is a bit more difficult than I anticipated, but it will not affect my decisions or my objectivity in regards to the stakes of the mission.”

“Of course it won’t,” Eve replied. “You always do what’s best for the mission and our agents. And they trust you because of it.”

Relieved Q smiled a bit wiry at Eve, “I still don’t know why that blue-eyed menace is sleeping with me though.”

“Q, you’re absurd,” Eve said as she rolled her eyes at him. “You’re smart, sassy, and adorable. I know loads of people at MI6 who’d love to be in your bed.”

Q flapped a hand at her blushing to the roots of his hair, “Good god, Moneypenny!”

“I’m not saying anything that isn’t true, Quartermaster,” she chuckled. “You’re quite the catch. Is 007 as good in bed as they say?”

“Oh my god, you didn’t just ask me that!” Q replied his face felt like it was on fire. Trying to deflect he continued, “And you don’t know? The rumor mill has it that you slept with him in Macau?”

“Q, maybe you don’t know, because you usually ignore such things and shame on you for not ignoring that bit of gossip. But, 007 has never in the eight years he’s been a Double-O and the two years before that as a field agent slept with anyone from SIS,” Eve said.

“What?” he replied his eyes widen in surprise.

“Since 007 became part of the agency at twenty-eight, he’s never had a relationship or slept with anyone that worked in the service,” Eve said. “Of course the whole tragic situation with that Lynd woman happened on mission, but she wasn’t part of SIS.”

It took a moment for Q to close his mouth he was so shocked at what Eve was telling him.

“You’re serious,” he said.

“Yes, I am,” she replied with a smile. “Though many have tried and failed, including me. He does have the reputation of being a womanizer, but even the gossip abounding about the amount of tail he gets on missions is exaggerated. Don’t get me wrong, he’s very successful when assigned to honey-pot missions, but they don’t occur as often as everyone seems to think.”

Q cleared his throat and reached for another chip before saying, “Well, I know that is true enough.”

“I probably shouldn’t tell you, but you are involved with the man,” Eve said hesitant. “He asked M to not assign him to future honey-pot missions if at all possible today.”

Eve had to slap him on the back to dislodge the chip that got stuck in his throat. His coughing fit went on until Eve gave him a glass of water. Gaining his breath he could only look at her in disbelief.

“So, perhaps 007’s intentions are more serious than you thought, Q,” she said.

Chapter 6:

“No, 007 I’m not punishing you with Lulu,” Q said and even he could hear the smile in his voice. “I sent R home due to a cold and I’m in the process of installing grenades into the Aston for 009’s mission to Poland.”

Q… is that Queen I hear in the background?” James replied the start of a whine interrupted by curiosity.

“Yes, and it doesn’t surprise me in the least that you’re familiar with the perfection that is Freddie Mercury,” he responded. “You are a child of the seventies after all.”

And you still look like you just graduated from sixth form, Q,” James retorted. “You sure you can’t keep me company while I wait? It’s cold and I need a distraction.

“You’ll just have to keep warm with the dulcet tones of Lulu,” Q replied trying to keep from laughing. “She’s the one tracking your mark. Switching you over now, 007.”

Q’s grin stretched across his face when he heard James cut off his complaints as Lulu came back over the comms. He kept his comm on listening to James’ unconscionable flirting in the background while he worked to inspect each grenade to be installed into the automobile. 007 had Lulu firmly in his corner in the betting pool; the man could charm the pants off a goat, if goats wore pants.

Q was in his branch’s garage working with his minion motor heads, Molly, Bennie, and Luther to finish up tricking out the Aston for 009’s mission with Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody blaring over the speakers. This was one of the fun parts of his job and he just knew 007 was going to try to wheedled additional tech off him in response to Q’s letting 009 have the car that James coveted. He should probably reward his lover for coming home in one piece from Syria two weeks prior. James had even brought home his tech intact, minus a few bullets and a couple of grenades. Nodding to himself, he decided to make some time to restore James’ DB5, when the agent was away.

The Syria mission had been a bit hairy for a few hours when communications had gone down, but James had gotten the job done covertly and had had only minor bruises and abrasions to bring home with him. Q had closed down the branch, leaving only a skeleton crew once 007 was on the transport back home. His lover had awoken him in the middle of the night hanging on the buzzer to his building. Q figured from the look of James’ exhausted countenance when he opened the door that the man was just too tired to break in for a change. Q hadn’t said much, just hugged him and led him to his bedroom where James had fallen asleep in Q’s arms, his blond head on the slight chest underneath. James had slept for over ten hours and then proceeded to enjoy a lazy day on the sofa with his head in Q’s lap wrapped in a blanket, with Alan and Steve nestled in the crooks created by his body. Q enjoyed a day of catching up with Game of Thrones, James, and his cats not even leaving the nest for food. That was what take away was for and James seemed happy to be still for a change as well.

The next morning, he’d left James a key and the code to the flat when he left for work. They hadn’t spoken of it, and beyond no longer breaking in at all hours of the day and night, their relationship had remained as it was. Q hadn’t even broached the subject of James’ own flat and the very small amount of time the agent spent there. Q was incredibly content with his lot in life at the moment, even though he’d not addressed James’ decision to request a change in missions from M. He’d not wanted to rock the boat or drive his lover away with an interrogation. It wasn’t like him to be hesitant in stating what he wanted, but Q didn’t want to pin James down and receive that mask he sometimes wore to hide his true feelings. If things continued as they were, Q was eventually going to have to address what James actually wanted for the long-term. But, it was difficult to even contemplate, the danger of the end of their affair heavy on his mind if he pushed too much. Q knew what he wanted and knew what he needed from James. The question was, did James want the same things and if not, could Q cope with that? He really didn’t know.

Q shook himself to focus his mind onto the task at hand. He was checking the grenades to be installed one by one to be sure they were in working order for the mission. One of the worse things that could happen to an agent on mission was malfunctioning tech and Q refused to send his agents out with less then the best equipment.

Q was bouncing a bit on his heals to the music, finalizing the first case of grenades to be installed. He returned the piece he was finished with to its blast proof case and waved Molly, Q-Branch’s resident explosive expert, over to retrieve it and start the install.

“These are ready to go,” he stated handing her the case. “They can go in the left side launcher while I finished up with the next set.”

“Very good sir,” she chirped with a smile, her blues eyes reverent on the box in her hands. Only a Q-Branch minion would be this excited over tech with the potential for harm, he thought shaking his head at her. He could see Bennie was finishing the gun ports while Luther was testing the jet packs, the fire erupting from the Aston’s tail end a pretty display of red, orange, and blue flames.

He pulled the next case to him and opened it, giving the five custom made grenades a good look before pulling the first one out for assessment. Q’s breath caught in his throat as the explosive armed unexpectedly in his hands.

“Shit! I have a live one!” he yelled before punching the evacuation alarm and throwing the explosive with all his might toward the blast area in the far corner of the room.

“Everyone out now!” he ordered, his minions already heeding the alarm were running to the exit on the far end of the garage. He was still a hundred meters behind them when a deafening boom erupted at his back. The percussive shock of the blast knocked him off his feet, then pain erupted in his legs and back before darkness caught him in its grip.


The cresting throbbing pain pulled Q from the darkness he’d been floating in for the longest time with only a soft beeping to keep him company in the black. Oh god he hurt! His muscles were spasming, clenching and releasing, trying to get away from the burning ache. His right hand gripped the warmth surrounding it tight as his breaths caught in his throat from the pain. Q could feel the panic rising at the thought that the agony would never leave him.

“Shhhh… Q you’re alright,” a low comforting voice at his side said. “Get the doctor in here!”

“Ow ow ow…” whimpers erupted involuntarily from his throat.

“Give him something for the pain. Now!” that lovely voice growled.

“Now, 007 just a moment…” a different voiced said. “I need to assess my patient first.”

“Then do it! Stop pissing about,” 007, oh yes that was James. His lover was holding his hand. Good, Q couldn’t hurt James with his tight grip. James would make the pain stop. He loved James.

“Quartermaster? Do you know where you are?” that other voice said, the one James thought was ‘pissing about.’ If that voice had something to take this pain away, he supposed he could give him a bit of his time. If he could open his eyes anyway, they were very heavy at the moment though.

“No… medical?” Q croaked. “James, make him give me something! It fucking hurts!”

“Doctor…” James growled again, his voice a menace in the dark, but not to Q, to that other fellow, the one withholding the drugs.

His breath rushed out of him in relief as liquid warmth eased the worse of the sharp knife-like pain. The pain was still there, but the edge of it clawing into his throat and mind was softened. Q floated in the dark quiet enjoying the feel of warm fingers running through his hair. The quiet beeping was still there, a timekeeper steady as the breaths he could hear at this side.

His hand was squeezed softly; his locks were pulled off his forehead and soft-callused fingers rubbed away the frown between his brows he just realized was there. It took a couple of tries, but he finally managed to unlock his eyelids a bit. Things were a bit blurry, and much too bright, making him grimace and squint. The bright light over him was lowered to a more acceptable level with a click and the room coalesced somewhat into focus. Or as focused as Q could usually see without his spectacles.

Ah yes, he was in medical. That hand swooshed through his hair again giving it a tug to gain his attention. James was sitting close to his side, looking deliciously disheveled for some reason. His short blond hair was actually standing on end, Q usually only saw that after a vigorous round of sex. James’ blue eyes looked a bit tired and he was still armed with his PPK, housed in its brown shoulder holster, and dressed in basic black.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in Paris?” Q blurted before the dryness in his throat cut off his words.

“The job got done quicker than expected,” he replied with a raised brow. His lover pulled his hand from Q’s locks to give him some much needed ice chips. The cold wetness soothed his throat and he hummed a bit in pleasure at the feeling.

His eyes widened and he tensed as an image of that bloody grenade arming itself popped into his mind. “My motor heads! Are they alright?” he asked gripping James’ hand hard in his urgency.

James kept a hand on his head to prevent him from moving too much when he replied, “Yes Q, they made it out and weren’t hurt. You’re the only one with any damage besides part of the garage.”

Q relaxed at James’ assurances, the spike of adrenaline eased as his heart slowed. God, he was so tired, he thought blinking slowly as he gazed at his handsome lover. His lover was the most breathtaking of men, strong, gorgeous, and kind even though he was a sneaky Double-O assassin and spy. Fantastic in Q’s bed and he didn’t want to go on any more honey-pot missions. God he was so in love with his blue eyes menace. The drugs were making him a bit maudlin, he thought. But god 007, James, was just beautiful.

“Your ears are so pretty,” he stated sleepily and wondered if he had a silly grin on his face. He couldn’t actually feel his lips at the moment. It was a sensation he often felt if he had one too many pints at the pub.

James chuckled, his smile radiant before he leaned up to kiss Q’s forehead. Then he whispered, “Go to sleep, Q. You can tell me all about them in the morning.”

His lover kissed his eyes closed and Q just gave him a hum of pleasure in return before he drifted off calm with the knowledge that he was safe, his minions were safe, and James was here safe at Q’s side.


“Ow,” Q moaned. The pain was insistent, though not as bad as he remembered it to be. Did he tell 007 his ears were pretty? Yes, he thought he had and James had been at his bedside too. Though honestly, if James didn’t know how obsessed with his ears and backside Q was by now, he’d have to take 007’s license to kill away from the man.

Oh good, he was still on the morphine. It was making his internal monologue more embellished than usual.

“Coming around, Q?” that was Moneypenny, oh and she was holding his hand like James had before.

It was morning if his eyes weren’t deceiving him based on the quality of drab London sky coming from the window. Moneypenny was looking too bright eyed and alert at his bedside in Q’s opinion. God he felt like shit and his left knee was throbbing in time to his heartbeat. It was annoying.

He gave her hand a squeeze before ordering, “Spectacles.”

She smiled and released his hand with a pat before placing his spectacles on his nose. Ah that was better, he could actually see clearly. He was definitely in medical, wires attached all over his chest, and shit; he had a catheter on little Q as well.

“Do you remember what happened?” Moneypenny said holding a glass with a straw for him to sip some much-needed water.

“Yes, one of the bloody grenades armed itself when I took it out of the box,” he replied with a frown.

Moneypenny sat back down, “It was faulty?”

“Hmmm,” he nodded. “I’ll have to take a look at the fragments to determine if it was damaged during transport, or if the fault was in fabrication.”

“Q, you’re not going to be working on anything for awhile,” Moneypenny replied gently.

“Huh?” he said a bit befuddled before his eyes widened in alarm. “How badly am I hurt?”

“Let me get Dr. Dave,” she said with another pat to his hand before rising to leave the room, her heels clicking on the linoleum a staccato of doom to Q’s ears.

“Quartermaster,” Dr. Dave Lundy greeted a few minutes later. “How are you feeling?” The man had an affable countenance belying the steel in his spine from dealing with the Double-O’s. The doctor always got what he wanted from the agents under his care, and even James was powerless to escape from medical before Dr. Dave gave his consent. His balding head reflected off the lights in the room and Q found the display mesmerizing. Maybe the morphine was a bit too high? Luckily, he was aware enough not to blurt out his observation to the man who could let him out of here so he could get back to work.

“My knee hurts a bit,” Q fibbed, then considered how the rest of his body felt beyond the floaty feeling of the drugs. “And my lower back is aching.”

“Well, luckily you don’t have a concussion from the explosion, but your left knee was dislocated,” he stated. “There’s some bruising to your lower back as well, but x-rays ruled out spinal damage. I performed surgery on the knee last night to repair the ligaments and realign the joint, but you’re going to be off your feet for awhile.”

Q grimaced with the doctor’s words, “How long?”

“Well, if you do well with crutches this afternoon you can go home tomorrow,” Dr. Dave said. “You’ll start physiotherapy in three days, once the swelling’s gone down and you’ll be fitted with a movable brace. I’m going to order rest for the next two weeks, but you’ll come in to Six every day for therapy.”

“Two weeks!” Q squeaked. “I can’t be away from Q-Branch for two weeks!”

Dr. Dave shook his head, “Two weeks at the minimum, Quartermaster. If you’re not too tired from therapy, you can visit your branch for a few minutes each day to touch base with your staff. But, just a few minutes, I want you to rest and stay off your feet as much as possible for the duration of your leave. After that, you can start work again, but you’ll be on crutches most likely for two months or more. Once you’re done with the crutches, you may have to use a cane until the joint fully heals. But don’t worry, eventually you’ll have full use of it.”

Q’s mouth was opening and closing in shock. He was sure if he wasn’t doped up to his eyebrows he could probably come up with a compromise that Dr. Dave would accept. He comforted himself with the knowledge that if he were working on his laptop at home, he would technically be off his feet. What Dr. Dave didn’t know, Dr. Dave couldn’t scold him for, he thought.

“Now you get some rest and I’ll be back this afternoon to see how you do on crutches,” he said giving Q a smile. “If you do alright, 007 can take you home tomorrow morning.”

“What!” Q erupted.

“Oh, didn’t Miss Moneypenny tell you? 007 has requested leave and will be looking after you at home,” Dr. Dave stated. Q could only watch helplessly as the doctor left his bedside with a bouncing stride. Moneypenny was leaning against the doorway to his room with a cat that got the cream smile on her face.

Chapter 7:

Having a Double-O agent as a nursemaid wasn’t all that bad in Q’s opinion. Though, Q wasn’t sure James hadn’t possibly been taken over by an alien pod, he was so gentle and patient with Q’s whinging. Though to be fair, by the time James had gotten him through the door two days before, he’d been faint with pain, and his verbal diarrhea had reached epic proportions. Q blamed the drugs.

Q had slept on and off for hours, the pain of his injury draining him of any energy he might have had. He’d not even been on his computer to check in with Q-Branch, but he reassured himself that R was keeping things—and the minions—in line. James had been attentive, but didn’t hover over Q to the point of causing aggravation. Though Q fussing at him for carrying him to the bedroom, like a virgin bride in some seventies bodice ripper romance novel that first evening might have had something to do with the slight reduction in James’ coddling. Or perhaps James had become subtler and Q hadn’t noticed, he considered, sipping his morning cuppa, supplied by his lover before said lover had gone out for a morning run.

Good god, he stunk. Q didn’t know how James could stand being in the same bed with him after not having a shower for three days. But, his lover didn’t seem to mind Q’s musky essence, cuddling along his side at night with a kiss and nuzzle to Q’s neck. He however, had had enough of his own smell. His skin felt greasy and he didn’t even want to contemplate the state of his hair. Even Alan and Steve had abandoned him this morning, and Q figured the scent of him might be too much for his boys to deal with. After two days in bed, sleeping and eating small meals, Q was feeling well enough to try his hand at cleaning himself up. He was also scheduled to go into Six today for therapy and there was no way he wasn’t going to be sweet smelling for the upcoming torture.

“Fuck!” his yell echoed throughout the room. The slicing pain from just moving to sit on the side of the bed took his breath away. Q didn’t think the pain had lessened at all the last two days. It seemed to be the same terrible, deep, jarring, knife-like pain it had been every time he had to get up to head to the loo. Dr. Dave was full of shit, be ready for physiotherapy today my arse, Q thought.

Breathing deep, he grabbed his crutches by the side of the bed and pulled himself up. The burn of tears from the pain started in the back of his eyes, but Q refused to let them fall, and started his slow journey to the bath. Even though he’d not used the crutches very much, they made his armpits sore on top of the pain in his knee. God it hurt, someone was going to get sacked if he found out there was a problem in fabrication!

He’d been mulling over the idea of getting a slightly larger flat for a while, but was extremely thankful he hadn’t. The lack of square footage made the loo closer to get to and he sighed with relief when he made it into the small bath. The art deco green and black tiles, matching green sink, toilet, and low bath were welcome, as was the smallness of the space. His face was white as a sheet in the mirror, making the disheveled mess of his dark hair stark in the light. He looked fae with his black hair and green eyes, bright points atop his bloodless cheeks.

He leaned on the sink for a moment, feeling faint. Perhaps this wasn’t the best idea, he probably should have waited for James’ help.

Distracted he was startled by an alarmed yell, “Q!”

Relieved he was no longer alone, he hollered back in return, “Don’t panic, I’m in the bloody loo!”

“What are you doing?” he said coming through the door, worry evident in his face. James was red and sweaty from his excursions, Q noticed and looking delectable, even though he was focused on not keeling over.

“I was going to take a shower, and have a shave,” Q replied, irritable at his weakness.

James shook his head, the concern in his eyes dissipated, “You should’ve waited for me to help you.”

“Ta, I just figured that out for myself,” he replied.

“Come here you,” James murmured, helping Q sit down on the close seat of the toilet. “We’ll get you sorted, just wait here while I grab a few things.”

“Alright,” he replied faintly.

He took his t-shirt off while waiting, listening to the opening and closing of drawers in the kitchen. James returned with plastic wrap in one hand, and a medical shower stool in the other. His lover seemed to be well prepared to give his Quartermaster a wash.

“You’ll be using the stool for a while, Q,” James said, setting the stool in the bath then squatting down in front of him. “At least until you can put some weight on that leg. Do you want a shave or shower first?”

“Definitely a shower,” Q replied with a small smile. “I stink.”

James ran his fingers through Q’s locks, “You are a bit fragrant.”

James eyes were soft, caressing Q’s face. That look was back, the one that Q liked and was seeing more often. He still didn’t know what that look meant though, and hoped at some point he’d figure it out.

“I don’t think I’ve thanked you for helping me,” Q said. James gently removed his spectacles and avoided his eyes, placing large hands around Q’s waist.

“Grab my shoulders, I’ll lift you to get your pants off,” James rumbled in a low voice. Q did as instructed, his breaths hitching a bit at the pain of moving again. James’ mouth murmured into his ear, “You forgot to shut the comms off, I heard the explosion and didn’t know if you were alive or dead for the longest time.”

Q blinked in surprise before whispering in the silence, “Oh, sorry.”

James was hiding his face in the join of Q’s shoulder, his hands squeezing tight around Q’s hips. “I trust you, Q and for me, that is a very big deal. I’d do anything for you,” he whispered.

Tears burned again in the back of Q’s eyes, but not from the pain this time. This man, so aloof with everyone else, deflecting closeness with flirtation and beguile was his friend. Yes, he was also Q’s lover, but the sentiment he’d never thought he’d hear, or know, that James’ felt for him was clear. A gift, the man didn’t know he’d just given.

Q didn’t know what to say in return, this thing between them so new and fragile. Ephemeral, if he pushed too hard.

So, he decided to go with a heartfelt and affectionate statement of truth, “I’m glad you’re here.”

The tension in the broad shoulders under his palms eased at his words. James’ hands skimmed his sleep pants down his legs before lowering Q back down to sit. Efficient movements wrapped his bandages in plastic wrap, his hands gentle and quick.

A little twinkle of humor showed in James’ eyes and on the curve of his lips. Q couldn’t help but ask, “What’s so funny?”

“I was just thinking the bruise on your backside is looking very festive,” James grinned. “All purple, green, and gold. It reminded me of being in New Orleans during Mardi Gras.”

“It’s not on my backside, you berk!” Q protested, but couldn’t help his smile in return at James’ teasing. “It’s on my lower back.”

“It’s on the top of your buttocks, Q, accept it,” James winked. “Now, let’s get the stink off you.”


Q had determined that at some point, Dr. Dave needed to be taken out and shot for treason. The man was just plain evil, and seemed to radiate an inordinate amount of glee when torturing Q with physiotherapy. The bastard had also taken Q off of the good drugs. It was criminal. Q’s post therapy rants, seemed to entertain James to no end, though he helpfully provided good advice on how best to dispose of the doctor’s body should Q turn homicidal.

Q hated to admit it, but Dr. Dave wasn’t totally full of shit. After two weeks, he was getting around more easily with the brace stabilizing his joint. He was now able to complete his morning ablutions on his own, though the shower stool would stay for the time being. The pain was more manageable and he was able to bend his knee, though not without a significant amount of swearing to accompany the action.

His Double-O agent and flatmate had seemed to settle in for the duration of Q’s convalescence with ease. After a number of days looking at James’ rucksack on the floor of the bedroom, Q had supervised from his sickbed, as his lover consolidated his clothes to make room for James’ things in his chest of drawers and closet. The sight of James puttering around his flat doing chores, made Q’s tum flutter in pleasure. James looked so right in Q’s space, particularly when he ran the hoover around in just his pants. Like he was right now.

It was making Q a bit hot under the collar and a zing of arousal surged in his nether regions when James bent over to unplug the machine. Granted, the first ten days or so, Q felt too awful to even think about shagging. But it seemed as if his mojo in that department had returned with a vengeance the last few days. Q was feeling the lack of attention significantly, and James treating him as if he was made of glass was becoming a bit irritating, as well. Not that Q didn’t appreciate the cuddles and affection he’d been on the receiving end of, but man could not live on cuddles alone. Particularly with such a fine specimen as his lover unconsciously teasing him by being domestic.

“You going to be alright alone when I go back on mission in a few days?” James asked. “Q… Q… Edwin!”

“Huh? What?” Q blinked and shook off the stupor he’d been in, contemplating the circumference of the top of James’ solid thigh. “What’re on about?”

“I asked if you’re going to be ok on your own in a few days,” he replied a smug smile growing on his face as he figured out why Q had been inattentive. “But obviously you’re a bit distracted at the moment.”

Q’s cheeks were getting hot, though his embarrassment didn’t hold a candle to the hard-on in his pants. He cleared his throat and said primly, “I’ll be fine, and you’ve already been in league with Amelia to look in on me regularly.”

“You feeling better, Quartermaster?” James said in a low rumble that sent a shiver of want down Q’s spine.

“Quite,” Q said faintly, sitting on the sofa in his pajamas, under a blanket with Alan on his lap as James stalked toward him.

James stopped in front of him and let Q look his fill. His lover was golden from the top of his head down to his feet, his body honed as a tool for Her Majesty’s government, strong and broad, all muscle and sinew. Potent. Gorgeous. The words didn’t do James justice at all, in Q’s opinion. His azure eyes were dark with arousal, burning bright in the soft lamplight, casting shadows across the strong plains of his face. James looked almost feral to Q’s eyes, a warrior of old. His small honey-toned nipples peaked under Q’s gaze, and his cock was full in the confines of his dark blue pants. Q watched as the tented fabric became wet with pre-cum along James’ flank.

James’ breaths were steady, almost meditative as he waited.

His eyes never leaving James, Q fumbled a bit to gently get Alan off his lap, then took a hitching breath before whispering, “Take them off… please.”

James brushed his hands down his abdomen, grasped the band around his waist, and skimmed the fabric slowly down his thighs. His cock slapped loud in the quiet against his belly as it was released. He moved in close to Q when he stepped out of those pants that had been torturing his Quartermaster for over an hour. Q caught the musk of James’ scent at his sexual core, the tone of the fragrance sharp but sweet. The aroma made Q’s prick throb under the blanket. James’ cock was flushed rose with arousal, framed by the dark blond curls at it base.

Q’s loins tightened in desire, his lover was beautiful and sensual in his nakedness before him. He reached out and ran his long fingered hand through those soft curls and up the shaft. His pale skin was alabaster, complementing the rouge hue of soft skin under his fingers. James arched under the touch, eyes closed, his head rolling back and up in enjoyment of Q’s supple strokes.

“Hmm… I love your hands, Q,” he murmured, his belly caressed Q’s knuckles as his breaths deepened from the touches.

Q’s hand roved up his torso to cup his chest, feeling the thud of James’ heartbeat under his palm for a moment before removing his hand. James’ eyes came back down to collide with his, and Q reached out to him with both arms.

“Take me to bed, James,” he said softly.

His lover withdrew the blanket from around his slim frame, and allowed Q to wrap his arms around his shoulders. As he picked Q up, James took his lips in a gentle kiss before heading to the bedroom with him in his arms. He laid his head on James’ shoulder for the ride, and closed his eyes, taking in the feel of being in his love’s arms.

Q had never had a lover like James Bond, never had a friend like him either. James was an assassin and spy, his past dark with tragedy, yet he had an inner glow of goodness about him. The aura of someone with a good soul, a brave heart, a protector, and a defender. Q was never going to get enough of him, and when their affair ended, he was never going to get over him.

Chapter 8:

“Shit, shit, shit!” Q grumbled, almost falling out the door of his building, struggling with juggling his crutches and satchel. He should’ve called a bloody cab. The idea he’d get back to taking the tube again, after two weeks of being ferried about by James, was insane. The door bumped him onto the stoop, and a yelp escaped when he lost his balance again. He tried to catch himself, scrambling to grab hold of the railing. All he could see was the paved stairs rushing toward him. This was going to hurt.

Strong hands abruptly stopped his momentum, “I’ve got you, sir.”

The hands remained to steady Q, until he got his crutches sorted and back under him. The bottom had dropped out of his stomach with the fright he’d just had. He could’ve broken his neck or re-damaged his knee. God, he was a fucking idiot!

Catching his breath, Q looked up to his savior, his tall and ginger haired, Double-O savior. “Double-o… Harrison!” he exclaimed, aborting at the last second the use of the man’s code designation. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to take you to work, sir,” he replied with an amused smile at Q’s shock.

Q could feel his mouth opening and closing, but nothing came out for a second while his brain caught up to what the agent’s words had meant.

“What? Why? I could’ve taken a cab,” Q retorted.

“Since I don’t see a cab, sir. It seems you require a ride, and Bond knows you pretty well,” 004 stated. “Why don’t you let me take your satchel for you?”

It wasn’t actually a question, with 004 gently removing Q’s bag from around his neck and shoulder. Q was a bit gobsmacked still, staring at 004 who was waiting for him to get down the three steps and onto the walkway.

Q finally found his motor coordination to navigate the steps, and his voice, “What do you mean? Bond knows what?”

“That you’d try to take the tube this morning,” Harrison replied, holding open the car’s rear door.

“And what? He arranged for you to drive me to work?” Q challenged.

“As a matter of fact, he did,” Harrison acknowledged, handing him the satchel once Q was settled in the back seat, his crutches close at hand. Consternated, Q clutched his bag to his chest, watching his agent round the front of the car and get behind the wheel.

The vehicle pulled away from the curb and Q relaxed against the soft leather seats before asking, “007 arranged with you to drive me around while he’s on mission?”

“Actually, not just me,” 004 explained, looking at Q in the rear view mirror, satisfaction in his hazel eyes. “I’ll be driving you the next three days, then 009 will take over when I go on mission. On rotation following 009 are 006, 002, and then back to me.”

Befuddled, Q asked, “Are you telling me James Bond organized a Double-O chauffeur service for while he’s away?” He hated that his voice got a bit shrill at the end, afraid he sounded reminiscent of a screaming harpy.

004 gave him an insolent wink in the mirror, “Yes, that’s what I’m telling you, Quartermaster.”


“I like the new additions, Q, very patriotic,” Moneypenny said coming into Q’s office with a full tea tray. She was as gorgeous as she always was, in a peach pencil skirt and light green blouse.

It took Q a moment to figure out she was referring to the added Union Jack padded covers on the top of his crutches. He was still distracted by his coding, and the warmth in his tum at the knowledge of James’ caring. His lover had arranged a very over-qualified secret agent chauffeur service for him. It was the most romantic gesture Q had ever received. God, he was lovesick.

“Good afternoon, Moneypenny,” Q replied with a smile, making space on his desk for the tea. Then joked, “You’re a goddess, I was just getting desperate for the want of tea. R’s in the lab and the minions never make it right.”

Eve smiled as she poured them both a cup, “I could feel a disturbance in the Force all the way upstairs.”

Q loved that Eve was a closeted science fiction buff. They’d have to get together again for a Star Wars marathon soon, with biscuits and ice cream. Definitely.

Eve sat with her tea and nodded at his crutches behind him, “So, the covers?”

“Oh, yes, my grandmotherly neighbor, Mrs. Hamilton, made them for me,” Q replied. “James conned her into it, though her compliance may have had something to do with him answering the door in nothing but his pants and my Hello Kitty t-shirt.”

“Hello Kitty?” Eve laughed.

“Don’t judge,” Q said with a sniff of offense. “Besides, it was my favorite and James stretched it out with his ridiculously big muscles. It’ll never be the same.”

Chuckling, Eve said. “It’s good to have you back, Q.”

“It’s good to be back, the minions were pleased this morning,” Q smirked. “I thought Lulu was going to cry, though she did try to squeeze the life out of me.”

They enjoyed their tea in silence, comfortable to be together in Q’s office with his branch’s normal buzz of activity showing through the office windows. It was good to be back in his domain, even if he wasn’t as mobile as he usually was. He’d missed this the last few weeks, though he’d worked from home a bit during his downtime. And on one occasion had to connect to Six to get 006 out of trouble.

“How’s the relationship going?” Eve inquired, curiosity alight in her dark eyes.

Stalling, Q took a sip of his tea before answering, “Well, we haven’t actually talked about it being a relationship yet.”

“The pair of you are idiots,” Eve stated with a fretful shake of her head.

Q moaned and set his head down on his desk, “I know. I’m so in love with him. It’s terrible. Did you know he arranged to have the other Double-O’s drive me about while he’s gone?”

“I’d heard that rumor, Q,” Eve replied. “Lulu’s all abuzz with excitement at the romance of it.”

“Like a puppy, it’s a wonder she hasn’t peed her pants yet,” Q said, shaking his head back and forth on the desk. “I’m afraid to talk to him about how he feels. He’s a man who’s kept his inner self secret his whole life. If I push him, he may end our ‘relationship.’” Giving Moneypenny some air quotes over his head, Q felt the emphasis was required.

Moneypenny gave his dark locks a pet, “Q, I don’t know 007 all that well, but as far as I know, he’s never had a relationship like he has with you. That has to mean something.”

Q chuckled despairingly into the surface of his desk, “I suppose I’m going to have to risk talking to him soon.”


The bruising on James’ face was stark in the low light of the bedroom. Q was laying on his side, a pillow under his knee, staring at James asleep, facing him. He’d been so scared, for hours when James had disappeared in Ukraine. He’d had to push his panic deep to focus and coordinate with his minions to try to find their agent. He’d done it, but the waiting had been excruciating. It always was when an agent went missing, but with the love he felt for James, the not knowing had been devastating for him. It’d felt as if his heart was being squeezed by a harsh hand the whole time, making it hard to breath. Q had known being romantically involved with a deep cover field agent hadn’t been the brightest idea he’d ever had. It was ten times worse than what he thought it would be, scrambling satellites, CCTV, and roving the Dark Web to trace his lover’s movements during the hours before James’ had disappeared.

Then the call for extraction had come, his lover having escaped through the use of his mental and physical skills, as well as the assistance of the Omega Seamaster watch Q had supplied. Of course, James had been beaten by Russian separatists within an inch of his life. The Double-O allowing the torture to continue as he gathered much needed intel, before working himself free from his bonds, and sending the explosive device his captor’s way. Q had been weak with relief, crutching himself to his office as quickly and with as much dignity as he could, engaging the smart glass for privacy before he collapsed on his sofa, granting himself permission to let the tears to fall.

God, it had been awful. He should have never allowed James through the doorway of his heart and life. The love he felt for the man had become all encompassing, an obsession, beautiful and horrifying. It wouldn’t kill him if James died on mission, of course, but Q knew it would be debilitating. He’d be crushed.

Gazing at that handsome beat up face, Q knew that he wouldn’t want to change his lover. Being a spy, a patriot for his country, was part of who James was. It was part of what Q loved about him. All he could do was continue to be the best Quartermaster MI6 had ever had. To keep bringing James and his agents back home alive. And he’d have to find a way to accept that, in both his mind and his heart. It was too late now, to pull back from this not-relationship, he’d only wound them both if he even tried.

Q’d been so immersed in his thoughts he hadn’t realized that there was a pair of sky blue eyes staring back at him. Well, one eye and part of the other, that was too swollen still to open fully. James’ uneven eyes reminded Q of Popeye the Sailor Man, and his lips quirked at the image. Of course, James had been a Navy man, so it was a fitting analogy in Q’s book.

“Hey, back with me?” James rumbled, voice rough with sleep. “How are you feeling?”

Q scoffed, “I’m fine. I’m not the one with bruises all over, particularly in inconvenient places.”

“I knew if I could get away, you’d have a team ready for me,” James said, ignoring Q’s statement. He reached up and thumbed at the frown on Q’s forehead, before running fingers through his dark plumage.

“I was scared,” Q whispered, fiddling with the fingers of James’ other hand between them.

James sighed and moved slightly closer, ignoring the soft sleepy howl of dissent from Steve, who had ensconced himself along the back of his lover’s head. He murmured, “I’m sorry.”

Q’s breath hitched and he blinked back the burn of tears, “I’m glad you made it back. For awhile, I wasn’t sure you would.”

James pulled Q in close and kissed his eyelids softly. Q reveled in the feeling of being in his lover’s arms. He was so gone on this man. He burrowed even closer, tucking his face into James’ neck to hide. He didn’t want James to see his anguish. He didn’t want to make James feel guilty, because Q had allowed himself to fall in love.

“Hey, hey… I made it back. I’m alright,” James said, stroking a hand down Q’s back. Q knew he could feel the tension under his palm.

Q tried to gain control of his emotions, but he wasn’t very successful when he blurted into the soft skin under his lips, “What are we doing?”

James grip had stopped on Q’s nape, cupping the back of it gently. His hand was warm, soothing the tendons beneath with gentle pressure.

“Being together, Q,” James breathed.

“Do you want more?” he asked, his heart fluttering in his chest for asking the taboo question.

James nuzzled into Q’s hair, his lips feathering over the skin of his forehead.

“Yes,” James acknowledged.

Q’s breath noisily escaped as the tension in his body released. He was limp with relief at his lover’s words and wrapped an arm tight around James.

“Q,” James said haltingly. “You’re the first lover I’ve ever had that I trust. I want to keep coming home to you for as long as I can…”

“But?” Q questioned.

“If this is too hard for you, we should think about stopping our association,” he responded, Q held his breath waiting for James to say the words that would stop their affair. “But, I don’t want to stop being with you.”

Q squeezed his lover closer in response, “I don’t want to stop either, I can handle it.”

“Q,” James said, stiff in Q’s arms.

“Yes, James?” he asked.

“You’re squeezing me too tight, I think you’re going to crack another rib,” he grunted.

“Oh! Sorry,” Q replied, releasing James from his tight grip

James’ blue eyes collided with Q’s green, his lover’s hand was again softly stroking through his hair. Petting him, like he petted Q’s cats. There was contentment in James’ gaze, studying Q, as if in fascination. It was enthralling to be captured by those blue blue eyes, and Q’s cheeks started to heat the longer their staring contest went on.

He blinked first, and broke the silence when he erupted, “Are we boyfriends now?” Good god! He couldn’t believe he’d just asked that, feeling the flush on his cheeks intensify.

James’ laughed, “You’re so cute when you’re stroppy.”

“I’m not!” Q insisted. Shit! His bloody ears were on fire now.

“Yes, you really are,” James said, soothing Q with a light kiss to his lips. “Don’t you think boyfriends is a bit juvenile?”

“Well, what would you call it?” he said, forgiving James his embarrassment with a nuzzle to his lover’s jaw.

“Partners?” James mused.

“That sounds like we’ve gone into business,” Q retorted.

“I’d prefer lovers, but that’s not something you can say in polite company,” James stated, rubbing Q’s heated ear softly with the tips of his fingers.

“True,” Q said. “So I take it, even if we can’t agree on a term, we’re officially dating now?”

James pulled in Q for a deep heated kiss before murmuring against his lips, “Yes.”

Q couldn’t stop the grin that took over his face at James’ agreement. It was still too soon to tell his secret agent boyfriend he loved him to distraction, but it seemed–for the moment at least–James was all in with him in this relationship.

Delighted, Q asked, “Do you want to submit the paperwork to M or should I?”

The worth of your doorway

Watercolor by beili

Chapter 9:

Q was happy and inordinately pleased with life, it was ridiculous. It had been five weeks since they’d officially begun dating and the paperwork submitted to M. Q had to do it, 007 hated finishing up his own mission paperwork, so the chore had been left for him to do. Of the five weeks, James had been away on mission for one after he’d recovered from the time he’d spent with the Russians. Of course, he’d again arranged for Q’s Double-O chauffeur service, even though Q was walking with his brace and a cane, and finally off those deplorable crutches.

The news of their official relationship had sent his minions into spasms of delight, particularly Lulu, who’d done an Irish gig around Q-Branch with motor head minion Bennie not far behind, having won the betting pool. The news hadn’t come from Q, but 007, his boyfriend, lover, partner, secrete agent sex machine—they were still working out the appropriate term to use for their relationship—had whispered the news in Lulu’s ears when he was down in Q-Branch making a nuisance of himself. Unfortunately, the speculation and the resulting betting continued, as well as his minion’s unhelpful discussions about the terms that should be used to describe Q’s relationship. Q just knew James had put that bug into Lulu’s ear as well. The wink his lover had given Q as he left the branch that day was definitely compelling evidence. Now, when his branch was quiet, he was subjected to almost daily discussions—and betting—about words to best describe his relationship.

Beau was too French. Boyfriend, it was agreed, was too juvenile for 007, but oddly enough not for Q. Companion or partner was too neutral. Life partner or significant other was too long. Spouse wouldn’t work until they were living together, apparently. Q wasn’t quite sure that was correct, but it was useless arguing with Lulu about the finer points of naming his relationship. Fiancé or husband wouldn’t work until they were engaged for a time before registering a civil partnership, or marriage. Of course, bets were added in anticipation of future nuptials, which Q secretly wouldn’t mind happening. The minions finally settled on lovers, with the addendum that The Mister, as opposed to The Missus might work in a pinch.

“You’re smiling again,” James stated. His lover was gorgeous, as usual; in tartan sleep pants and a gray Henley with a book in hand sprawled across the sofa cushions, his feet in Q’s lap. Q’s fluffy traitors were ensconced on him; Alan curled on his nether regions, and Steve around his neck on the sofa’s arm. Some how, Q had ended up giving James a foot massage while he himself was trying to watch Star Trek: The Wrath of Kahn on the telly.

“Hmm, thinking of retribution for encouraging my minion’s to misbehave,” he replied. He’d been smiling too much lately, he reflected. It wasn’t dignified. “Besides, I know you’re a dangerous man, able to knock me out with nothing but your pinky toe.” He gave said digit a bit of a tug, smiling as he continued his rant, “But at the moment you don’t look like you could hurt a fly.”

James snorted a chuckle, his eyes luminous with playfulness. “Yes, a picture of me like this would be bad for my reputation at Six,” he beamed.

“It certainly would,” Q agreed, rubbing James’ ankles softly. “I wonder how it would affect the betting pool.”

“Don’t you dare, Q!” James commanded.

Q just looked down his nose at his lover, “You’re just lucky I can’t get to my mobile at the moment, 007.”

Chuckling low, James pointed his toes, a hint to Q to keep rubbing his feet as he returned to his book.

Intimate, this moment was intimate. For Q, these types of moments of subtle affection, sharing space, and enjoying each other’s company made him feel cherished in a way that he’d not experienced with a previous lover. Perhaps, James felt the same. His lover seemed to revel in just being with Q, whether they were quiet sharing the sofa, or talking in hushed tones in bed. James seemed to be content to rotate around Q, a planet to Q’s sun.

Q had known before their affair had started that James trusted him. His assistance during the Skyfall incident had helped encourage James’ trust, followed by a string of successful missions where collaboration with Q-Branch had been key. Gazing at his lover now, relaxed and vulnerable in Q’s space, spoke to him of the deep trust and faith James had that Q wouldn’t hurt or betray him. Trust with his agents was often hard won, with James Bond even more so, and Q loved him all the more for it.

“Q?” James spoke, pulling Q from his lovesick musings.

Q tugged at James’ big toe, smiling at his lover as his eyes left Captain Kirk and Kahn playing hide and seek with their Starships in a Nebula.

James had laid his book open on his chest and was stroking Steve’s head next to his ear. That soft look was back in his lover’s eyes, his countenance almost drowsy with peacefulness. The lines around his eyes smooth, the blue in them stark in the soft light, lids at half-mast, but not in seduction. If Q could put a name to the look James was giving him, it would be adoration. That look made Q’s chest feel tight, his heart fluttering within the confines of his ribcage.

“Edwin,” his lover breathed softly. Q tensed at the sound of his name on James’s lips. The voice of his lover saying his real name washed through his ears, a tickling caress of sound. James reached out a hand to him and Q then realized how tight he’d been clutching his lover’s foot. Their fingers tangled together, James’ voice was hushed, “I love you, you know.”

Q’s breath whooshed out of him, the noise of it overtaking the background murmur of the telly. He swallowed the lump that had crept up into his throat before asking, “You do? Really?”

James’ smile was soft as he tugged Q’s hand to pull him close on top of his reclined form, and Q heard the thump of his book hitting the floor. Alan was dislodged from his comfortable nest with a soft squeak of protest. He settled Q on his chest, pulling Q’s dark fringe from his forehead before cupping his face with those broad hands.

“Very much,” James stated, devotion radiated from those beautiful azure eyes. The fluttering of Q’s heartbeat was like birds’ wings as he took in the love in those eyes.

Q whispered, his fingers gravitating to one of those lovely ears, “I love you too. You make me stupid with it.”

Relief, and not a small amount of satisfaction, shown through, and Q received a sweet smile from his blue-eyed menace. Fingers buried in his dark locks to pull him in for a soft kiss. His slight hips cradled between strong thighs, Q closed his eyes, immersed in the feel of James against him. Talented lips deepened the kiss, languid and unhurried, creating a slow burn of desire in Q’s belly, as his tongue was teased.

Q gave James’ plush upper lip a suck, and felt the responding surge in his lover’s cock underneath his hips. Shaky, he pulled away to hide his face in his lover’s neck and couldn’t help rubbing his fingers softly against the beautiful hollow of James’ throat. A hand in his hair petted him, while the other delved under the bottom of his t-shirt to stroke the sensitive skin of his lower back.

Arousal and nerves were competing with each other in Q’s being, the evidence of how idiotic James made him indisputable, when he blurted out, “Do you want to live together?” James’ hands clenched, his body ridged under Q’s own. Oh god, love made him completely maudlin, he realized. Shit!

That hand urged Q to stop hiding with a soft tug to his hair, pulling his blushing face from its nook. Q was afraid to meet James eyes, but the tugging was insistent. The happiness he saw in his lover’s gaze when their eyes met shocked him mute. James’ lips were quivering at the corners, before they gave up the ghost and grinned at Q.

“I’d love to, Q,” James chuckled, and Q couldn’t stop the frown he gave his lover.

“You’re a menace,” he stated.

A squeak escaped him when James squeezed him tight, laughing at Q’s embarrassment. Q groused against his lover’s lips, James having trouble not smiling while kissing Q silent.

“Lovesick?” James muttered the question, pulling Q’s head away to again capture his green eyes with blue.

Q’s face was on fire, a flash of him saying those words, a moment ago, shot through his brain. He groaned, hiding his face again, and pinching James’ chest in punishment for making his brain-to-mouth filter nonexistent.

“Yes, it’s terrible, and all your fault,” he complained in his lover’s pretty ear.

Rubbing Q’s hair again, James whispered, “Me too, you’re my home, Q.”

Q pulled back a bit and peaked up at his lover. “That’s the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me,” Q replied with a smile of his own. His smile widened to a smug grin when he added, “And the most cheesy line I’ve ever heard.” His secret agent was blushing a bit. Adorable. At least he wasn’t the only idiot in this relationship.

James gave him a sharp pinch to his behind, growling, “Well, I mean it, you little shit.”

“Ow!” Q yelped, before hugging James to him tight, tucking his face into that warm nook again. “I love you, James. So much.”

His lover was feathering kisses over his forehead. Q relaxed into the happiness he was experiencing, content to stay cuddled against James, pondering the turn his life had taken.

James Bond, diabolically independent agent Double-O-Seven, loved him. According to James’ psych reports, he was cunning, solitary, untrusting, and had abandonment issues and was a borderline alcoholic to boot! The diagnosis was basically right and perhaps James had had an issue with self-medicating with alcohol at some point in the past. But that wasn’t at all evident in their time together these last six months. James rarely drank at home, and usually only the occasional scotch or beer. Q had never seen his lover drunk.

James certainly liked to be in control, but he didn’t try to control Q, or their relationship, anymore than making sure Q was safe while he was away on mission. He was a solitary man, but he’d let Q in close to both his living and emotional space. All of the Double-O’s were damaged in some way that made them the best candidates for the extraordinary position as one of MI6’s elite field agents with the trust of Her Majesty’s Government to use their License to Kill with acumen and restraint. James Bond was an amazing agent and a remarkable man. And he loved Q.

“I haven’t needed anyone for a very long time,” James said, his voice soft, breaths puffing the words against Q’s fringe, disturbing the silence left when the film had ended. “I haven’t allowed myself to be close to anyone. I can admit now, that Vesper never really knew me, though I lied to myself that she did and that I trusted her. M was the only one I trusted and after she died, I was at sea for the first time. Even the anguish and anger I felt after Vesper’s betrayal and death, didn’t affect me as much as M’s passing.”

Q stayed quiet, playing with James’ collarbones and ears again, allowing his lover to speak into his hair without interruption, wondering what else James was going to reveal about himself.

“After Sykfall, it took me awhile to realize, I wanted a connection with someone,” he continued. “That I needed someone in my life I could trust and who wanted me for what little I could give them. And you, Edwin with your adorable stroppy aloofness, didn’t let me get away with my normal bullshit, on mission and off. And the longer we worked together, the more I trusted you. I got to know you. I wanted you, and you let me in. You’re amazing.”

Q didn’t try to hide the shiver that ran through his frame at his lover’s words. He nuzzled into the skin under his lips, placing soft kisses of praise up James’ neck before looking at his lover. He could see James’ struggle in those blue eyes, trying to accept his vulnerability, now that he’d spoken his mind.

Q placed a light kiss on James’ lips, soft and sweet before pulling back to make a confession of his own. “I’ve never been in love before. Not really, but I do know I love you. I’m obsessed with you, actually. I worry about you constantly, but I wouldn’t change you for the world.”

The exposed concern in James’ eyes dissipated somewhat with Q’s words. Q knew, that his lover wasn’t one to talk about feelings comfortably and he wasn’t either. Those moments were going to be few and far between in this relationship, he recognized. It was another gift that he would keep close to his chest, protected; he’d protect James with all that he had in the future. James Bond was his. The possessive thought sent another shudder down his spine, so he tucked his face away again in the heated nook of his lover’s neck.

The air felt charged with electricity to Q, the silence comfortable between them, but acute from the notes of the words echoing around them.

To break the tension, Q did what he always did, said something cheeky, “I love every word you just said, except the ‘adorable stroppy aloofness’ bit. I’m not adorable, you git.”

His lover was trembling under him and Q was worried for a second that the emotions of the last few minutes had caused James an internal crisis. The high pitch giggles into his hair that soon followed, assuaged his concern. Q lifted his head again and gave James one of his signature frowns, internally elated at the delight he saw on that handsome countenance.

“Adorable,” James chuckled, and then pulled Q in for another kiss.

Q gave that cute ear a tug in reprimand before melting into the kiss. James had the softest lips for such a hard man, the taste of his lover was addicting, with a hint of citrus from the orange juice James’ had had with dinner added to his own natural flavor. Delicious. The feel of his lover beneath him was divine, the hard muscles hot and smooth, those hands skimming down his back and buttocks a warm tease. Q’s ran his hands through James’ soft hair, dislodging Steve from his spot behind his lover’s head as he deepened the kiss, capturing James’ tongue as it delved into his mouth.

James’ breaths were hot against his face, his own deepening as the burn of desire rushed through his torso settling into a pleasant throb in his loins. James’ hands were guiding Q into the kiss, tongue and teeth dueling with his own, taking control. Q let him, willing to follow his lover in this. James released his lips, pulling his head back to attack his pale throat with suckling kisses and bites. The sting of teeth on his sensitive skin fanned the heat he was feeling. It made his nipples hard, and his cock wet, and Q was unable to stop his humping response to the stimuli, grinding down on the band of hard heat under his flanks.

James opened a leg wider, wrapping his solid thigh around, and his leg over Q, to encourage more contact. God, his lover was flexible, he thought. Q’s hand rushed down his lover’s side to clutch at one of James’ pert buttocks, pulling their groins together, increasing the friction. Against the skin of his neck, little grunts of pleasure were escaping James’ throat. All Q could do was pant, arch, and rub mindlessly. It was so good, his whimpers erupting into the silent room.

James abruptly wrapped Q in his arms and sat up, then grasped Q under his legs to stand. Q clutched the broad shoulders under his palms hard in surprise, before complaining when James headed toward their bedroom, “I’m perfectly capable of walking on my own!”

“True, but this is quicker and I need to get you naked as soon as possible, Q,” James growled, his voice low and deep with arousal.

Q nibbled on James’ neck before saying, “Oh, ok then, but don’t make a habit of it.”

Rather than reply, James tugged at Q’s dark locks, pulling his lips away so he could receive another hard kiss. Q gave into his lover’s insistence on silencing his saucy mouth and melted into the kiss, satisfied with having had his say.

James settled Q gently in the middle of the bed, giving his lips a soft peck before moving back to peruse him. Those sky blue eyes were almost black with desire and Q’s flush raced down his chest at the sight of want in his lover’s eyes. He’d never had a lover look at him like that before. Like he was a craving that just had to be appeased. It made him feel beautiful and seductive, it was bizarre and incredibly arousing.

James’ skimmed Q’s t-shirt off and threw it over his shoulder, before smoothing his hands over the pale torso under his fingertips. It caused Q to arch, the sensation sending pulses from his nipples straight into the base of his cock. Those fingers briefly feathered over his erection, the nerves alight, sending his hips humping up for more friction. But, James’ was on a mission to remove his leg brace and Q remained bereft of his lover’s touch. His sleep pants soon followed and James pulled back, standing on the side of the bed, his heated gaze sweeping over Q’s nude form. Q’s skin was tingling under that look.

“You’re so beautiful, Edwin,” James said, voice a deep baritone in his aroused state.

Q’s breaths hitched at the words. James was the beautiful one, he thought, as his lover’s body was revealed. Strong and golden, sinew stark in the lamplight. His skin felt like it was on fire under that hot gaze.

James pulled the lube from the bedside table before swinging that body on top of Q. He gently removed Q’s spectacles, and then hovered above him on his hands and knees, looking into Q’s eyes, James rumbled low, “Can I ride you, Q?”

Q scrambled to reached down and squeeze the base of his cock, James’ gaze on his hot flesh not helping him to keep from coming. Panting, Q nodded, “Please, but stop talking, or I’ll cum before I’m even close to being in you.”

James smiled, humor and heat in his eyes as he leaned down to whisper, “Yes… ”

“Don’t say it, you menace!” Q burst out, cutting off his lover’s words, his fingers tightening on his cock. He just knew that James was going to tease him with his name again. It was too much, between his name, and James wanting Q inside him. A man could only take so much before he burst.

James nibbled his ear, giving it a nip before taking Q’s lips again in a sweet kiss. Q released his cock to pull James down with his hands. The feel of his lover’s soft skin and hard muscles under his palms, and against his frame ratcheted up Q’s passion. Desperate, he rubbed up hard against his lover, James clutching him in return. Q gave himself over to the mindless kisses he was receiving, the desire he felt for his lover was almost painful. Soft moans escaped both of them; Q enjoyed feeling the sheen of sweat beading on James’ skin, rubbing his hands everywhere he could reach. He pulled James’ face away to just look at what he did to his lover. Debauched, his lover looked debauched from Q’s touches. It was so beautiful.

James reached up to take Q’s hand, kissing the palm softly before placing the slick in his hand. Q fumbled, to busy gazing into his lover’s eyes to pay attention to opening the bottle. James just smiled and waited for Q to get coordinated, satisfaction in his face at Q’s distraction. He kissed Q’s frown of pique away, allowing Q to get things sorted. James took his lips again, Q relaxing into the sensation, sweeping a hand down his lover’s back to those magnificent buttocks. His fingers finally slick, joined the hand already squeezing hard muscles to delve into the warm cleft seeking James’ hole.

Q was mewling into James’ mouth at the feel of the hot skin under his fingers. His other hand swept around James’ flank to explore his cock and balls, making James gift him with grunts of pleasure against his mouth. His finger sunk into his lover’s tight heat, holding still for a moment for James to get use to the sensation. James’ hands clenched in Q’s hair tight as his prostate was pressed, his lover’s breaths escaping as he arched back into Q’s hands.

James was ravishing Q’s mouth and throat like a rabid wolverine by the time he’d worked in three fingers. Q made sure to brush the spot that made James writhe above, and against him, on almost every stroke.

“Enough! Enough, Q,” James yelled over Q’s head, his whole body tense with need. “Fuck! I love your hands, but good god, enough.”

Q removed his fingers, wiping them on the sheets, and gave James a slight pat on the behind in praise. It caused his lover to growl and nip the joint of his shoulder, making him tremble as his cock pulsed. James sat up, his hands plucking at Q’s nipples, causing him to pant even harder than he already was. A punishment for his teasing, no doubt. His lover was glorious sitting astride his hips, his chest heaving, and cock hard against his belly, the tip glistening in pre-cum. He was so fucking lucky that this special man, whose strong spirit showed through only for Q, was his.

Q arched with James broad hands slicking up his cock in quick determined movements. Oh god, this was it, Q watched James position his prick. He grabbed those solid hips hard, his body bowed upwards, as the heat of his lover took him in slowly. The clenching softness, the warmth gripped his cock tight, and Q had to distract himself from coming too soon by closing his eyes, and coding for a moment in his head.

“Oh, fuck,” he whispered when he opened his eyes, and almost lost it again at the sight before him. James was a heavy weight on his flanks, head lolled back and face slack with bliss at the feel of Q inside him. It was the most erotic thing Q had ever seen in his life. That he could give this special man so much pleasure was almost incomprehensible.

His lover pierced him with his dark gaze and started to slowly roll his hips. The feeling was indescribable, so tight and hot around his prick, the sensitive nerve endings ablaze making his toes curl. James’ eyes became blurred as he chased his pleasure, setting down his hands alongside Q’s shoulders, working himself on Q’s cock. Q clutched James’ back and hips, arching up to take his lover’s lips in a brief, but passionate, kiss.

He was so close, the pressure cresting as his cock was squeezed even tighter as he watched James’ prick dribble pre-cum onto his belly. Wanting to feel that wet heat, Q wrapped his fingers around James cock, sweeping up the shaft and bringing the slick from the tip back down. James’ breath hitched and he thrust down hard, making Q’s eyes rolled back in his head. Q could imagine how the pair of them looked, writhing together, chasing their release, muscles clenching and thrusting with hands clutching hard enough to bruise. James roared as Q powered into him from below, his body a beautiful taunt line to Q’s eyes as cum erupted all over his belly and chest. Q grasped his lover’s hips hard, grinding mindlessly into James’ heat, howling as his own orgasm shot through him.

James caught himself before he collapsed fully onto Q, but Q wanted that body to lie down on him. He encouraged James to relax, pulling him down with his arms around that broad back. James acquiesced and they lay panting into each other’s ears, cum smeared between them. Q couldn’t help but nuzzle James’ fragrant neck, content and sleepy.

He really should do something about the cleanup soon, but the thought drifted away as he fell asleep under the sweet kisses he was receiving on his eyelids.

Part Two: 007, You Belong In My Bed


A/N: The Worth of Your Doorway is a novella length romance set in the movie fandom of James Bond (Skyfall). It was written for the 2015-2016 00Q Reverse Big Bang Art and Writing Challenge. Art that inspired this story is by the talented beili. The collection is archived on AO3 here. For more information about the challenge, head over to the 00Q RBB website on tumblr here.

My thanks to MinMu for all of her work coordinating the challenge, the lovely Xphil98197 for beta’ing my work, and the talented beili for the art piece and prompt she did for the challenge. You can see more of beili’s art work on her tumblr here.

Lastly, my thanks to alex_kade for assisting me–Luddite that I am–with my gif banner. You can read alex_kade’s stories on AO3 here.

9 responses to “The Worth of Your Doorway

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