0_0_7 | Q

Q

There are men in the world who prey on boys and girls, who capture them and take them and thos innocents become slaves. These walking piles of shit and money can get away with it because of names and titles, because of cash and reputation. And to serve them there are slavers. Oh, in this modern age they've been sanitized to 'traffickers' but it doesn't change what they are.

Once, years ago, a boy with red hair and mismatched eyes brought a fair price. Not that Bond knew that. But the man at the other end of the club in the black shirt with the hidden gun, he knew. He was watching the same man the double-o was.

Bond and Q had come together mostly because Q was the kind who could get them in and Bond was the kind who'd follow along as the boffin's musle. It wasn't uncommon. The club was a headphone club and they were issued pairs to plug into receivers. That way the crowd could dance to the same music without the neighbors complaining of any heavy bass.

But before dancing Bond took Q to get a drink.

"See him?" he asked.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I don't mind a bit. Quinton...best behaviour," Bond said simply. He took his drink and had a slow sip. "When can I see who you have in mind?" he asked.

Q looked unsure, but sat down beside Tony, his posture slightly stiff as he nodded.

"Tomorrow, at the spa. I'll set aside some time after lunch and bring a few boys in for you to look at. ...Do you prefer brunettes?" Tony asked, his hand moving to the small of Q's back as he spoke, then creeping beneath his jacket and the loose fitting button down shirt he'd worn. "The more you tell me about what you're looking for, the easier it will be for me to find a match," he added, his thumb running slowly over the pronounced ridges of Q's spine. ...Though there was nothing cruel about it. In fact, it was oddly soothing, and not particularly sexual. It reminded him of how he'd idly stroke Oberon while he worked sometimes.

"I'm not as concerned with looks as I am temperament," Bond replied. "I like a bit of life. I don't like the ones someone else has taken the time to break. I like clever. I like..."

He looked at Q and twitched a smile.

"Young."

He looked at Q as if he were remembering, picturing the man as a young boy. That he was fond of his slave was obvious. That he was hungry for someone younger and fresh was even more obvious.

Q knew he was supposed to be playing a part, that he was here not as tech support, but to look and act a certain way. In that moment it was painfully clear why M had picked him- Why Bond had agreed.

Bond smiled, and Q didn't smile back.

Tony's hand moved higher then, rubbing in small circles. Q didn't even realize he was doing it, but he leaned into it, letting himself be soothed.

"Of course," Tony nodded, smiling. "I'm sure I'll be able to find just the one for you."

He slowly removed his hand from beneath Q's shirt, then fished out one of his business cards.

"The address is there at the bottom, be there tomorrow by nine. My staff will treat you both to breakfast and a massage, then we'll meet for lunch and to look at your options. ...Which hotel are you at? I'd love to send along some complementary goodies."

"The Ritz," Bond replied. "I'll make sure we're up and there by nine. I do like to be punctual," he smiled.

He was amazed at how well Q fell into this, though he shouldn't be. Terrance's mark remained upon the younger man, regardless of how long ago that had been.

"I do like this trend with these clubs. Not at all like it was when I used to go. I'd be deaf for two days after with the bass still beating in my skin..." he said, striking up an idle, off topic conversation.

Tony laughed a little, but it was clear he had no interest in being social really. Instead he finished his drink and got to his feet.

"It's a brave new world, James, in so many ways. Isn't that right, Quinton?"

Q looked up, and for a moment, just a moment, he couldn't help but feel as if there was something more to that question.

"I suppose so, yes," Q replied awkwardly, his brow slightly creased.

Tony only smiled though, waving goodbye and heading off back towards the friends he'd been chatting with before.

Bond watched him go, his blue eyes thoughtful as he calculated every word, every look, every offer.

"They're more subtle than he is on the streets of Bangkok," Bond said quietly. "I believe he's going to steal you tomorrow."

"For what reason?" Q asked. "It was heavily implied by you both that I ought to be taken out to pasture and put out of my misery," he huffed, sipping his drink and toying with the tiny umbrella it had come with.

"I don't think that's it, Bond- But I do think something's amiss here. I'm just not sure what."

Bond was quiet for another long moment as he thought. Then he looked at Q.

"You liked when he was touching you," he said evenly.

"It was an act. That's why you and M wanted me here, isn't it? Because I know how to behave," Q snipped, growing defensive and downing the rest of his drink.

"Quinton," Bond said, his tone a warning. He got up slowly and moved to Q's side of the table and petted his hair, then offered his hand.

"Let's don't make a scene. We should go."

Tony looked back over at them from across the room, making a point of catching Q's eye.

"Fine," Q said quietly as he got to his feet, though he didn't take Bond's offered hand. Honestly, he was too agitated to care about how it looked to Tony. They could always lie about it later.

Bond very calmly brushed his lapels and smoothed his tails, then took hold of Q's arm to lead him out. He could see Tony looking at the young man but he was very good at bluffing.

It wasn't until they were outside that Bond spoke.

"You know I'd rather you not be in the field at all...but since this is what it is, could we have chosen anyone in MI6 more qualified than you?" he asked sharply.

"I'm a highly skilled professional, and this is absolutely beneath me. I'm not bait, I'm not a prop, I'm your bloody quartermaster and you should show me some more respect. So should M for that matter," Q hissed.

"I should have known right away what the pair of you had planned when M told me I was coming along. Here I was thinking I'd be in some lovely hotel room decrypting private messages and copying drives, not playing the part of old bloody yeller."

"We do what we must," came Bond's clipped reply. "Come on, we need to get to the Ritz to wait for our gift. I should make sure I have plenty of ammunition."

Q scowled, but said nothing more as they made their way back to the hotel.

Apparently Tony had wasted no time, and a large gift basket sat on the bed. Mostly it was just bottles of bubbly and fine foods, but there was a large envelope addressed to Bond, and a very small box with a tag on it- Addressed to Q.

Q handed Bond the envelope, then slowly, and carefully, opened the box. It was white and unmarked, and inside was a brand new pair of very high end headphones. Something Q had been eyeing, but weren't yet on the market.

Always suspicious, he quietly retrieved some equipment from his bag, scanning for bugs- But there was nothing. The room was clean, as were their gifts.

Bond opened the envelope and pulled out a handwritten note thanking him for his time as well as looking forward to tomorrow. Along with the note was a catalogue of room decor...except the decor wasn't the focus. Each room group featured a child, girls and boys from very young to around twelve. They were placed to seem natural in the room group settings but Bond knew what the book was selling.

He passed it to Q.

"We're taking this asshole down."

Q couldn't help but cringe a little as he flipped through the pages, putting it down- Then turning his attention back to his gift. It made sense for Tony to woo Bond, but why bother trying to impress him? It seemed so out of place.

"He wasn't touching me in a sexual way," he said after a moment. "At the table, I mean. It wasn't sensual. It was... It was careful, but not calculated. It was the way you'd calm a child when they're unwell. ...He saw me eyeing these headphones. He had a pair connected to his phone."

His brow creased slightly, and he sat down on the edge of the bed. "Perhaps you're right, perhaps he is planing to take me."

Though something about it just didn't sit right.

"He'll try to take you and I'll shoot him in the heart and the world will be a better place for it," he said, moving on from the despicable catalogue to the much nicer champagne.

"Should we have a picnic?" he asked. "This is a rather lovely assortment..."

Q reached to take the bottle, peeling the foil and popping the cork. It fizzed softly, and he took a drink straight from the bottle.

It was very unlike Q, and it was clear tonight had gotten under his skin.

"I am starving, actually," he confessed. "I don't want to eat any of that nonsense though. I want something solid and filling."

Edited 2015-06-10 21:11 (UTC)

Bond was rather taken with the assortment of soft cheeses rolled in dried fruits and nuts but he thought a real meal would be nice as well.

"You sound as if you know where you want to go," he said, reaching for the bottle to have a nip of his own.

"I was thinking you could have something sent up. A roast dinner or just a pizza. ...Something solid, hot," Q said, toying with the headphones again, then offering Bond the bottle.

"I'll take care of it," he said as he took it. Bond wandered off to find the menu and the phone and called down. He ordered a rotisserie chicken with potatoes and gravy, steamed veg, a savoury pudding, and a side of candied yams since the chef offered as they'd served then in the dining room tonight. He asked for desserts, whatever they had two of, and a pot of good tea.

"Dinner will be here soon," he said as he walked back in, though he expected Q to have the headphones in, unable to hear him.

Predictably, he did.

He'd shed his suit and pulled on a pair of pyjamas, one sock missing as he sat on the floor beside the bed. His laptop rested on his knees, and his head bobbed slightly in time with a song only he could hear at the moment. His fingers danced over the keys, tapping away as he remained oblivious to the fact he was being spoken to.

Since he was painfully aware of Q's displeasure with him- and M- Bond left him alone and began to take off his own suit. He carefully hung it and then slipped into some navy blue silk pyjamas.

Then he actually poured himself a glass of champagne rather than drinking it like a savage from the bottle.

Bond climbed onto the bed and looked in the basket, selecting a small serving of pistachios. He toyed with Q's hair but didn't earnestly try to bother him.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject