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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"You vanished for over fourty-eight hours," Q countered, doing his best to remain calm. "I suppose we should be thankful it wasn't months this time."

R glanced over, her brows raised.

"Be reasonable, Q," Bond said, his jaw set. "Surely you can invent something you could not implant..."

They all knew Q could. They all knew Q had.

"I have, double-o seven, and you've lost every bloody one," Q said, finally raising his voice.

Tanner was looking again and Q bit the inside of his cheek to try and calm himself.

"My office, this isn't a discussion to have in the middle of Q branch," Q said finally, gesturing at the door.

Bond looked put out as he stalked after Q. R and Tanner shared a glance, both clearly expecting a row.

But when Q's door closed and his blinds clouded the glass, Bond only took a seat.

"Implant what you like," he said simply. "If I'd agreed out there, we'd have been blown."

Q looked annoyed, clearly not aware they'd been putting on a show.

Eventually he sighed and slumped into his seat. "It's been one day, and I'm already exhausted. This is never going to work, James."

"I think you can do anything you set your mind to," Bond countered.

"Don't be nice, I'm so not in the mood for nice. You've got me all wound up," the boffin complained.

"Q," he started, then paused.

"...You're overthinking this. All we have to do is Shut Up. Surely you know how to keep secrets..."

Q was silent for a long moment, then nodded a little. He picked at a loose thread on his sleeve, then sighed.

"You know, I used to have daydreams about us having quarrels in my office. ...This isn't generally how they ended," he quipped, as though trying to recenter himself.

"If you don't want the implant- I won't make you," he added quietly.

"I really don't, but I think- strictly from a budgetary point of view- you'd better get one ready," Bond said.

He leaned forward and then smiled.

"But you've got to promise to be with me. If it's in there, I expect you to be, too."

Q looked surprised, but nodded.

"I'll be there, whenever you require me," he promised, before glancing at the time.

Q seemed more frazzled than usual, noticably so, and he sighed to himself. "I'm due in a meeting. I'll arrange for medical to get your implant ready, and I'll have your gun by end of day..."

He paused, then dared to look hopeful.."Will I see you tonight?"

"Unless M finds a reason for me, I was going to make dinner reservations," he replied.

"9pm? La Lune?"

He gave Q time to think while he got to his feet to go to medical.

"Jean-Claude is a magician."

"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.