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.
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.
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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.
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He passed it to Q.
"We're taking this asshole down."
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"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.
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"Should we have a picnic?" he asked. "This is a rather lovely assortment..."
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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."
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"You sound as if you know where you want to go," he said, reaching for the bottle to have a nip of his own.
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"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.
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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.
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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.
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"You wouldn't really trade me in for a younger model, would you?" he asked, taking his glasses off, and then ducking low to nuzzle at Bond's neck.
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"I wouldn't trade you in for any model. New, old, classic, cutting edge...I want you. I want the original. I want you," he replied.
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"Do you think Terrance would have by now? If I'd stayed with him all those years ago," he asked quietly.
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"Lucky I killed him first then," he said finally.
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"Lucky," he agreed softly and said no more. He only pressed soft kisses to the back of Q's neck and pressed his hand over his heart.
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"Perhaps it's all a ruse. Maybe he intends to abduct you instead. Sell you to some special market where people buy handsome old dogs," he teased gently, turning over to face Bond, then stealing a kiss.
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"No one cares about old dogs," he said. "Except you. For which I am terribly thankful."
He kissed Q slowly, longing for more but knowing dinner was on its way.
"He'll try to take you," he whispered. "But he won't succeed."
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"I'll go out of my bloody head if he puts his hands on you," Bond admitted. "To think he'd dare..."
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Q truly was a wizard. There was no one in the world better suited to holding Bond's leash. Just a few soothing words from the boffin and Bond relaxed and focused. No, it was unthinkable Tony would touch him, or even try to take him. No, it was unthinkable they might falter or fail. That would never happen. Not with Q in control.
"Dinner will be here soon," he said, nuzzling Q like a happy pet seeking approval.
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"A good, hearty chicken dinner," he said. "All the sides...even candied yams since they had them left from the menu du jour," he added, nibbling little kisses along Q's jawline.
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"Sounds lovely," Q laughed, tilting his head to offer Bond a bit more skin. "I really am starving," he confessed.
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