0_0_7 | (no subject)

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There was a sharp crack of gunfire that made the comm squeal in Q branch. The Double-0 in the field grunted, then began to pant, and continued making familiar sounds of effort as he ran full bore.

"Report," M barked in his ear.

"He ran," Bond replied, as if that should be obvious.

"Can you catch him?"

There was no answer. For a few tense moments there was only measured breathing, Bond's rhythm driving him on. On Q's screen, the small dot that indicated the agent moved north, then northwest, then vanished entirely in the middle of an intersection.

"I'm in the sewer," he said simply.

The announcement gave Q time to find him.

A moment later, there was an explosion and the comm cut out entirely.

M looked at Tanner and Q, Moneypenny...only looked at Q.

"Get me satellite," Tanner barked at Q's underling and a moment later there was an image of a smoking crater where Bond's signal had been. The smartblood monitor blinked OFFLINE. That didn't mean dead, but it certainly wasn't good.

"Bond?" M said. "Report."

Silence.

"Double-0-Seven, report," M repeated.

Silence.

"Keep the comm open," M finally said, then stalked out of the room.

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"Oh. Right, yes," Q said awkwardly, feeling a bit guilty that he wasn't more excited.

It was all just so... Normal. In his head this had all been much more exciting and a bit dangerous.

"Sounds lovely."

"How did you get hired, Q?" he blurted out. "You are perhaps the worst liar I've ever met."

"It's not my job to be a liar, it's my job to make things and keep you lot alive, despite your best efforts to shuffle off to an early grave. ...And I'm not lying," he added, which was absolutely a lie.

Bond chuckled.

"You are absolutely lying. I tell you what. I'll send a car at 9. Unless M," he said. "I'll still feed you, I promise..."

"I don't want a car sent. I take the tube, I always take the tube. And I don't want the Bond treatment," Q replied, not upset, but clearly not happy either.

Sometimes he felt like James wasn't really aware of what he was like, or even willfully blind to it. Q didn't want to go out for fancy meals, didn't drive unless there weren't other options. He wasn't a romantic, he was practical, and blunt. Too blunt, sometimes maybe.

Bond was entirely aware of what he was like.

"I'll send a car," he repeated, then turned to go. "I'll see you at nine."

Q huffed, but didn't argue again. As much as he was a creature of habit, with his quiet little rituals and ways of doing things, he also didn't want Bond to decide he was too much fuss to bother with.

So, as he often did when it was James asking for something, or telling him what he planned to do, he just nodded.

At 8:57pm, a car rolled up.

It was a pizza delivery lad with Q's regular order.

"S'all paid for, mate. Yer'good," he smiled, happy as could be for the bonus he got for this trip.

He left Q at the door with the boxes.

Bond was waiting at his dining table.

9pm.

Q looked puzzled as he headed inside with the boxes, wondering if Bond had decided he wasn't worth the fuss.

Then nearly dropped them when he saw James.

He wanted to snap at him for breaking in, but he felt like he must be becoming a nag. Instead he attempted to make a joke.

"If you're going to brake in you could at least do me the courtesy of feeling me up and wearing some leather gloves. ...Do robbers wear leather gloves these days? They probably just use fingerprint scramblers... I suppose that wouldn't be as erotic in an adult film," he mused, mostly chatting to himself now as he put the boxes down and grabbed them plates.

"I'd offer you a soft drink, but I imagine you'd rather drink my liquor and tell me how mediocre it is," he said, returning with plates, a soda, and scotch for Bond.

It was as close to an apology for being difficult earlier as Bond was likely to get.

"Come now, Q. Surely you expected me. I told you I'd see you at 9. I'd never lie to you," he lied.

"I ordered your favourites. They know your order."

They did not know Q's order. They knew Q's credident, and so did Bond.

Q hummed and sat down. Truthfully, he wasn't very hungry. He'd been a bit uncomfortable all day, not sure how he felt about his tantrum in his office, or what to expect tonight.

An alert came through showing his payment had been used for dinner, and that seemed to be the final draw.

"The only thing I've ever seriously asked you not to do is tease me," he said quietly. "If you're cross about earlier, just be cross. Don't be a bastard."

Without another word he stood and headed for the bathroom to give himself a moment to compose himself.

Bond sat and ate the pizza in peace.

Q was right. The scotch was mediocre.

Q returned a while later, half expecting to find Bond gone when he found the man still at the table, he didn't really know what to do.

Last night he'd told James he loved him. James had said it back. Somehow that just made this feel worse.

"You're the one who changed my dinner plans. You really didn't expect me to pay twice," he said, wiping his fingertips on a paper napkin.

"I tried to keep it warm."

Q was always so calm, almost stoic, so it was odd to watch his face fall and a hint of upset show. And then more than just a hint..Hard as he tried to fight it, tears started to come none the less.

He'd gone from thinking the man was dead, to agreeing to a secret relationship, to whatever this was... And it all just seemed to hit at once. He didn't care about the money, didn't even really care about the break in... He was just too exhausted to try and make sense of any of it anymore.

"Ahh, there it is," Bond said knowingly, and he rose to take him in his arms.

"I was waiting for this. I was surprised when it didn't happen last night," he said softly.

Q tried to shove him away, shoulders tense, then trembling slightly.

"Fuck you," the boffin said quietly.

"Understandable," he said, unwilling to be shaken.

Q remained tense in his arms, composing himself and refusing to crack any more than he already had.

"If you wanted to go out, all you had to say was that you really wanted to go out, you don't have to be such a bastard about everything. I acknowledge I was unpleasant earlier, but I meant what I said. I don't want to be driven around, I don't want fancy restaurants. I'm not that person."

He'd had nearly the exact same conversation with Harry.

"More importantly, if you're annoyed with me, say so. Don't- Don't do whatever this is," he said finally, pulling away and moving to start putting the food away. "Find a better way to express yourself to me."

"Alright," he said and finished his scotch.

Q put the boxes in the fridge and Bond got to his feet.

"I made reservations because I wanted to go out. I enjoy the food and the restaurant. It's a lovely place to have an enjoyable time and not be seen."

He enjoyed the finer things. If he could die at any moment, and he had the means, why would he not enjoy the finest things the world had to offer? The best food. The best clothes. The best toys.

He gave Q a curious glance.

"Because you might not be that person, but I am. And you know that," he said. "You know that."

He said it twice for emphasis, then turned to go.

Q looked stung, watching James move to leave. Well, that had been even shorter lived than he'd expected. Maybe it was for the best though. If James had no love left for him, there would be no temptation to return. Things would just end. No danger, no more worries they might get caught.

That's what Q tried told himself anyway as his chest began to ache. This was good, this was the best solution.

When the double-o left, Q locked the door behind him. Though Bond likely barely made it to his car before the bomb went off.

It was sudden, and exceptionally loud. The ground shaking as flames instantly engulfed the narrow, two story building.

Bond was blown forward, thrown into the street. He rolled and looked back to see the house in flames, only a high pitched ringing in his ears.

"Q?" he called, though he couldn't hear himself. It took a moment to get to his feet. A neighbor came out already on her phone to the fire department.

Bond studied the scene, and then charged back into the wreckage.

Glitch and Beta were cowering near the door by their carry crate, the one Q used to take them to the vet. Slightly deeper into the house Q was on the ground, his glasses damaged and a small wound on the side of his head where some debris had struck him.

He could see James through the smoke and the haze though, and he made his way over, keeping low as he put the cats in their crate and picked them up.

"I- I'm not sure what happened," he realized, starting to cough. He barely had his wits about him, wasn't even staggering towards the door anymore.

Bond rushed forward and grabbed the crate in one hand and slung an arm around Q to guide him out to the street.

Sirens were already on the way.

Safe by his car, he set the crate in the back seat and then turned his attention to Q.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, looking him over.

Nothing like an explosion to make his heart beat.

"Bruised, but fine," Q said, unaware he was bleeding a little. "...You don't have to stay, I can wait for the police myself. I know you don't want to be near me right now, this doesn't change that."