Work Text
Commitment
Q struggled to elaborate the sight of James Bond getting down on one knee, in the middle of a swanky restaurant "What... are... you... doing?"James didn't let the panicky quality in Q's voice deter him "Even if I didn't deserve it, you always waited for me just around the corner" waited for him to come back from a mission even when the odds weren't good; waited for him to see his enduring love; waited for him to get over his commitment issues "And since I have bad knees, I'll cut this short: marry me?"Q smiled "Yes, I will"
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Realization
Q could barely believe how a moment had so suddenly changed his priorities: as he watched 007 fall, blood blooming worryingly bright against the white of his shirt, he couldn't help wondering about why he had rejected James again and again - afraid of something happening to him and being left alone.It hadn't changed the fact that Q loved him - it had only been a waste of time.Q dropped to his knees and unceremoniously dragged 007 behind a corner, his heartbeat barely slowing down when he felt the other's chest rise and fall under his fingers as he grabbed his Walter; he could have easily hacked it, if he had had at least his mobile on hand - as critical as the situation was, though, Q put the gun in James' hand "Can you shoot propped up against me?""It's n-not... ideal"Q forced himself to ignore the blood that coated James' lips "I asked you if you can do it - not if it's ideal""Bossy" James coughed up a chuckle as Q moved him around "Anything you need, my dear Quartermaster""Just one shot" Q reassured, entwining their fingers together around the grip of the gun, ready to shoot
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Mourning
"Roses, really?"
Exhaling a heavy sigh didn't alleviate his oncoming migraine "They were on sale" Q shrugged.
"Seriously?"
"Uh.. yes" had James really expected him to splurge on flowers for a fake grave? It wasn't like they wouldn't wilt anyway.
"Roses are romantic, Q - for dinners and dates, not for funerals"
"Resurrections are romantic though, aren't they?"
Except for the fact that James hadn't really died: it had all been part of a plan to make some people believe that they wouldn't have to worry anymore about him hunting them down - and Q had been crucial to the plan, there for every step of it. Still, he seemed... upset? "Are you okay?"
Candles peeked amidst the roses - the expensive and scented kind that Q lit up only to treat himself after long and hard missions; he focused on them, wondering about which of their colleagues had spent so much on a fake death "Sure"
That tone of voice screamed the contrary "Q..."
"I don't want to talk about it" Q sighed "You're fine. You're home"
"Of course I'm home" James drew Q against his chest, gently enveloped him in his arms "I'll always come back" faked or not, resurrection was his specialty afterall.
Nodding was the only answer Q could give at those reassuring words: one day that grave would be full; one day that nightmare would be too real; one day he wouldn't buy discounted roses to cry on as he mourned the man he loved. And it hurt.
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Holidaying on a Mission
The scraping of the bar stool next to his own spoke of someone drunk or someone annoyed and looking forward to getting drunk."Does MI6 pay you for drinking your liver into a nasty case of hepatic cirrhosis?"James grinned and tossed back the last of his cocktail, not needing to look at Q to know he was scowling: the other man could be as easily predictable in some things - like his disapproval of unncessarily destroyed equipment and excessive consumption of alcohol - as he could be completely impenetrable in others "It's all part of the cover""Every single time?""What can I say? It's a good one"Q rolled his eyes and tried to move his bar stool without having to stand up, trying to hide as much as he could in the refreshing shade of the beach umbrella: he could already feel his pale skin starting to fry, despite the copious amounts of sunscreen he had religiously applied before putting even a toe out of the hotel - no matter how inviting the glittering blue sea had seemed.He both envied the agent's golden tan, deepened by Santorini's scorching sun, and thirsted at the way it made the other's muscles seem even bigger - Q shifted, lazily flicking the image away before he embarrassed himself."What can I get you?"Q turned to look at the other man "Are you trying to get me drunk, Bond?"James leaned in, trigger finger under the younger man's chin to draw him closer and keep him there "Do I need to?""No"In the heat, the kiss made Q breathless - he choked on salt, vodka, tan lotion and the taste of the other's lips.Diving deeper.Craving more."Let's go back to the hotel"It wasn't an invitation he had any intentions of refusing.