Q

[0_0_7]

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.

Comments

[quartermaster_q]

"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.

[0_0_7]

"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.

[quartermaster_q]

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.

[0_0_7]

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.

[quartermaster_q]

Q remained lost in his own little world a while longer, then discarded his laptop and new toys in favour of climbing onto the bed- and on top of Bond.

"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.

[0_0_7]

Bond's arms wound round him and one hand rested on Q's back, the other on the curve of his arse.

"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.

[quartermaster_q]

Q hummed softly, then sighed as he rested his head against Bond's shoulder.

"Do you think Terrance would have by now? If I'd stayed with him all those years ago," he asked quietly.

[0_0_7]

"Traded you in?" Bond asked, then was quiet for a moment. "I think he would have killed you and found someone new...I believe that."

[quartermaster_q]

Q fell silent then, holding Bond a moment longer, then rolling away to curl up on his side of the bed.

"Lucky I killed him first then," he said finally.

[0_0_7]

Bond rolled to press against Q's back and he held him.

"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.

[quartermaster_q]

Q sighed, but seemed to relax.

"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.

[0_0_7]

"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."

[quartermaster_q]

"Obviously," Q purred. "We need to learn as much as we can before you take him down though, Bond. Don't jump the gun on this one just because it's me. I can handle myself, I promise."

[0_0_7]

"I'll go out of my bloody head if he puts his hands on you," Bond admitted. "To think he'd dare..."

[quartermaster_q]

"He wont. He won't, Bond," Q said, sounding calm and sure, even though he had no way of knowing that. It didn't matter if it was true though, he just needed Bond to believe it. He needed the double-o focused and calm tomorrow. His mind on the mission, not Q.

[0_0_7]

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.

[quartermaster_q]

"What did you order?" Q asked, stroking Bond's hair, then smiling as he brushed his thumb over the blond stubble on the other man's chin.

[0_0_7]

"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.

[quartermaster_q]

"Sounds lovely," Q laughed, tilting his head to offer Bond a bit more skin. "I really am starving," he confessed.

[0_0_7]

"It better get here soon because I'm about to start undressing you," Bond murmured, enjoying the skin of Q's neck and the soft curve of his belly below his ribs.

[quartermaster_q]

"I'm not eating chicken naked," Q laughed, wriggling away and perking up at the sound of a knock at their door.

"That'll be it now."

[0_0_7]

Bond groaned and rolled off, letting Q get the door.

There was actually a team that came in to put the dishes on the table in the room. Rotisserie chicken, the skin golden and crackly. A bowl of peeled potatoes and a tureen of gravy, another bowl of steamed carrots, broccoli and cauliflower, a dish of candied yams, and a silver dome over two slices of triple chocolate cheesecake.

[quartermaster_q]

Q inhaled deeply, smiling as he took a seat at the table and started to fill his plate.

"This is perfect," he said, once they were alone again. "It all smells lovely."

[0_0_7]

Bond got up and took care of the staff, then sat and began to dish up his own.

"The chicken smells divine," he said as he began to carve it up.

[quartermaster_q]

"It does," Q agreed, forgetting all about Tony in favour of focusing on a lovely meal with the man he loved.

"We should have proper meals more often. Sunday dinners or something."