Archive of Our Own

Bond was standing against the wall, arms crossed and looking pensive.  “You’re taking this... rather well,” he finally cleared his voice and noted.  

“Seeing as it was either be turned into a Vampire or die, I’m not in a position to complain,” Q logically pointed out in return, straightening and releasing the couch to take another step forward.  Once more, the limb moved just a touch faster than he’d expected, and he ended up standing with his arms out for balance like a wobbly scarecrow.  “Although, should a situation like this ever come up again, I’d highly recommend telling the person that Vampires exist before turning said person into one.”

“It won’t happen again,” Bond shook his head.  It shouldn’t have happened this time, but when he’d seen Q bleeding out on the floor of the lab where he and Bond had been sent to collect some illegal, high-tech weaponry, it hadn’t been a matter of thinking logically.  Bond had been acting before even consciously making the decision that he’d save his Quartermaster by any means necessary.  “How's the neck?” he asked, stepping forward.

Q reacted with an alacrity that was totally foreign to humans and even to some snakes, whipping around and snagging 007’s wrist even as it reached towards him.  Then the Quartermaster stared at his own hand, clearly boggled at his own reflexes.  “Well…” he said, blinking, expression so clinical and interested that his own hand may as well have been a computer harddrive waiting for perusal.  “Well,” he said again when nothing better came to mind.

Carefully, Bond detached Q’s hand, prepared to use a bit of extra power to do so if Q resisted, which he didn’t.  “You’ve definitely got Speed,” he noted, expression still quite solemn as his mind worked over all of what he’d done and what repercussions it was already having, “Although you should count it as a small favor that you don’t have any Strength showing up, but only time will tell.”

“How come I hear a capital letter on both of those words?”

While the Quartermaster obediently tipped his head to the side until Bond could see the ragged scar that started just under his chin before snaking across the right side of his throat and all the way back behind his left ear, Bond replied with a distracted smirk, “Because they do have capital letters.  You get better at certain things once you stop being human.  I’m sure that genius brain of yours could come up with some more scientific term, but Speed and Strength and what-have-you mean just what you think they do - just on a superhuman scale.”  He was touching the edges of the scar lightly, noting that it was still raw-looking, but healing quickly.  The signs of where the enemy operative had laid Q open with his knife would be gone within a few more days.  Bond sighed quietly in relief, glad he’d done it all right.  Making people into Vampires wasn’t exactly something he was practiced with.

Q allowed Bond’s hand to sift through his hair, enough to look at the far edges of the healing wound and then a little bit more beyond that, pushing professionalism.  The Quartermaster took note of that but said nothing, instead just watching the 00-agent’s pensive expression.  “So I’ve got... Speed.  What do you have?”

“Strength,” Bond dropped his hands back to his sides again to shrug, “But I knew a fellow who had Speed, Strength, as well as something less quantifiable called Focus.”

“Really?”  Curiosity lit up Q’s eyes brightly even as his excitement urged him to move, and he nearly tripped over his own feet.  Thankfully, this was still all taking place near Bond’s durable leather couch, which had endured far worse than a stringy Quartermaster falling against it over and over again.  

“He’s dead,” Bond had to note, something he said quite idly - not because he was a Vampire, but because he was a 00-agent, and death (ironically) was a fact of life.  He reflexively reached out to grab Q’s elbow and keep him stabilized, in case the couch didn’t do the job.  Until he’d had time to let this all sink in, the Quartermaster would be moving without even thinking about it.

Q sobered, face falling a bit as he tried to decide between sympathy and embarrassment.  “Oh!  Sorry, I didn’t…!  Can I ask... how he died?”  It had obviously just occurred to Q, and he straightened with a sudden scowl to demand, “Wait - just how can I die now?!”

Even before today, when he’d just been a very human boffin with hair like a crow’s nest and the ability to make mincemeat of top-grade firewalls with the press of a button, the Quartermaster had been intimidating, but now he somehow just looked rather cute.  It helped that Bond had just seen him at his most vulnerable - at the verge of death, blood pumping out of a severed artery - and now Q wasn’t hiding behind professionalism and aloof amusement.  It was the peak of irony that Q was at his least scary now that he’d been turned into a supernatural being known to be dangerous.  Bond fought a fond smirk as he crossed his arms again and answered calmly, “Oh, just the normal ways.  The fellow I knew died in a car-wreck, as I recall.”

Q actually looked disappointed for a minute, until he remembered exactly what they were talking about and flushed.  He tried to lighten the mood with an offhand tone, “So... no death by sunlight?  Aversion to the fabled cross?  Lethal dislike for garlic?”

Bond shook his head, then gave a death’s-head grin that he usually reserved for missions - a grin that didn’t actually reveal pointed teeth at the moment, but still looked dangerous.  He added to his previous description, “People just have to try a lot harder.  The car-wreck included a train, and Gregorson still lived long enough to climb out of his car.”

“Oh,” Q said again, then decided that he had better sit down to let it all sink in.  Bond, happy to not have the new Vampire lurching around his apartment anymore, went to the kitchen to get something to drink, glad that he still had a taste for it and that alcohol had a lovely bite not unlike blood, if he had enough of it.  

~^~

Eventually, M called.  The mission should have been completed by now, and although Bond actually had secured their objective, neither he nor the Quartermaster had checked in.  It was inevitable that the head of MI6 would try and track them down eventually, and it wasn’t that hard when Bond had his cell-phone on him.  007 patiently ignored the sound of something breaking in the kitchen behind him, having heard similar sounds all morning as Q tried to get used to a body that moved a helluva lot faster than it had any right to.  

Fortunately, M was aware of Bond’s ‘condition,’ so some things he didn’t have to lie about.  “I can’t come in, M.  I’ve got a... a baby Vampire here at home.”  Another sound of accidental destruction had him turning his head, but he caught the sound of Q calling out that he was fine.  Clumsy and uncoordinated as hell, but fine.  

M sighed sharply at the other end of the phone, but this was the one excuse that Bond could give that she wouldn’t counter.  “Quite the timing you’ve got, James,” she informed him with obvious pique that made Bond wince, because he knew he wasn’t being entirely truthful with her.  It was made even worse when M continued, “First my Quartermaster, then my 00-agent won’t come in.  Do you have any idea where he might be then?”

Usually, 007 was an incredible liar, but there was nothing quite so distracting as Q - a force of nature even when all he had on hand was a laser-light and a screwdriver - obviously running into something and then swearing.  If M didn’t hear the familiar voice through the phone, she took keen note of 007’s hesitance as the man fumbled for words.  Suddenly, the silence on the phone deepened, like a calm before a truly spectacular storm, and then suddenly the woman was cursing with unparalleled fury and venom.  Bond merely sighed and leaned his blond head against the wall, closing his eyes in a wince that had nothing to do with Q helplessly destroying his kitchen with pure, new-Vampire clumsiness.  

Usually controlled even when 007 and 006 were heaping international incidents upon her, M was irate now.  “You turned my Quartermaster into a Vampire?!”  

“It was either that or watch him die!” Bond defended himself, emotions peaking as well as he bristled.  “There wasn’t exactly time to call an ambulance when the majority of his blood was already on the wrong side of his skin!”  He calmed enough to explain in a more detached tone, “Q was inspecting the weapons when we were caught by surprise - there was another entrance to the room that was undetectable to us at first, and Q was right next to it when it opened.  He had his throat slit before either of us had time to turn and see the new threat.”

M hissed out a breath, hopefully the cold, calculated retelling of events calming some of her temper. When she spoke again, it was more subdued, “How’s he handling it?  Is he all right?”

“Surprisingly-”  He took a moment to listen for sounds of mayhem or distress, but thankfully only heard the former.  “-Yes.  The upside to how bloody logical he is is that he took it all at face value.  Not that he could ignore it, seeing as he’s now moving around my apartment like a two-legged race-car.”

“I heard that!” came a bark from the kitchen.  Q had been trying to make himself breakfast for half an hour now, and had broken the toaster and upended the table, not to mention broken nearly all of Bond’s plates and one chair as he moved too quickly and underestimated just where his limbs would go.  Watching him run into the table had been rather amusing, although Q would have to contend with the bruises until his hyper-active healing kicked in.  At least he was no stronger than he’d been before all of this.  

Bond flashed a smirk that no one could see and finished, “Mentally and physically, he’s in one piece.  I’m just keeping an eye on him at my apartment until he can be trusted out in society again.”  

“You’d better bloody hope that you can make him presentable again.  I don’t fancy finding myself another Quartermaster, and it’s already going to be a long day coming up with an excuse for why he’s not here.  You got the weapons at least?”

“Yes.  You could say that Q stayed onsite to look at them,” Bond considered, “Make up some story about them being unstable.  You could have Alec go out and secure the area, even, so no one can check out the story.”  Alec himself was aware of what Bond was already, and would eventually learn about Q, even if Alec himself was perfectly human.  

M was still in a fine temper, however, and retorted, “Or I could stick closer to the truth and say that he spends too much time with you, and now the stress of it has made him temporarily unfit for work.  The sad part is, people would believe that.”

Unsure whether to smirk with childish pride or glare with equally petty temper at the phone, Bond tried for a moment to think of a wise response before settling on, “Whatever you see fit, Ma’am.  I’ll get the weapons to you by the end of the day.”

“No, you won’t,” M countered, “You’ll tell me where they are, and I’ll have 006 go get them - I don’t want you letting Q out of your sight!”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, M,” Bond replied solemnly, neither of them mentioning that this meant he would protect the Quartermaster with his life.  By nature, Bond was not a loyal fellow, at least not to very many people, but the lengths he’d gone to keep the lithe young Quartermaster from dying proved that his small circle of friends had extended to include one more.  

~^~

No one expected just how much self-control Q would have.

Bond explained the facts of life to him: that he needed blood now, that he needed to keep his new nature a secret.  Being a Vampire could actually be quite normal and boring if one knew how to play the game, and Q was lucky that he had Bond as a patient teacher - Bond, who was a pro at this by now.  A list was even given to Q of those in MI6 who knew about all of this, a short list indeed that surprised the Quartermaster by including 006 and Moneypenny besides just M and a few higher-ups in Medical.  

Bond hadn’t been too worried about indiscretion on the Quartermaster’s part, though, and was far more surprised when the idea of drinking blood also left Q largely unfazed.  The first few days had seen Q regaining his coordination, learning to walk like he used to and hiding the fact that he could move ten times faster.  Somewhere in there, Q found out that he didn’t need his glasses as much, although he still liked wearing them - he just found satisfaction in the fact that he wasn’t as blind as a mole without them now.  By the end of the week, Bond was watching for signs of hunger from Q, an inevitable appetite that could lead to worlds of trouble, in Bond’s experience.  For someone like Q, unused to all of this, the sudden ravenousness would be startling and overwhelming when it hit - likely even terrifying.  

Or, at least, that was the expectation.  

In reality, Q took clinical note of his new hunger, and then... simply leashed it.  “Of course I’m hungry,” he said to Bond, when asked at one point late in the evening after they tried a stroll around the block to test just how ‘normal’ Q could pretend to be.  Q had seemed perplexed when Bond had finally given in to curiosity and asked if he had any desire right now to do what Vampires did best.  Q had slanted an eye his way past the rims of his glasses, pursing his lips in that way he had before admitting, “I have to keep from staring at every throat that passes, but you’ve made it abundantly clear that I need to act human.”

“So you just... ignore it all?” Bond tried to understand.  Even after years to deal with it, Bond still had days when it was hard to hide just how hungry he was after too long without.  He’d had nights seducing women when they’d thought the desire in his eyes was just bodily lust, completely unaware that he was hearkening to the beckoning throb of their heartbeat as it painted a hidden river up their necks.  The hunger in his eyes had been a little bit different than what he’d let on to his targets.  

Q continued to stare at him, one eyebrow lightly arching above his glasses.  “Of course.  What exactly do you do?”  Bond had just shook his head, mouth twisting in a wry expression of mock disbelief as he and the Quartermaster continued their walk.

~^~

That was how things had gone on, until M and Bond had finally bowed to the inevitable, agreeing that Q was not only transitioning very well into his new ‘condition’, but actually surpassing pretty much all standards.  He’d been living in Bond’s flat, the older man keeping an eye on him and giving him tips about acting perfectly human even though he wasn’t - the two, by this point, were fighting over who took the couch every night and who got the bed.  Moneypenny joked that they were like a married couple trying to cope without the sex, an insinuation that made Bond glare like a frostbitten laser and Q flush to his ears and stammer that nothing was going on.  

For the life of him, Q couldn’t understand why everyone was so impressed with his transition from human to Vampire - it all just seemed elementary to him.  Regardless, he was deliriously glad to be allowed back to Q-branch after his long hiatus.

“No offense, Bond,” Q said as he sat in the agent’s car on the way to headquarters, having accepted the offered ride instead of public forms of transportation, “Your company is in no way disagreeable, but I believe that if I had to spend another day without the amenities of Q-branch, I was going to rewire your whole apartment just for fun and then reconfigure your microwave to send out distress signals.”  Q had had his laptop this whole time, but clearly he was going stir-crazy so far removed from his natural habitat.  “Plus…”  Q ran his hand back through his hair, disrupting the nest of dark curls before lowering his hand again to straighten his glasses fastidiously, “There is only so much remote micro-managing one can do.  Q-branch-!”

Before the Quartermaster could get too wild and start gesturing, Bond flashed a smirk and interpreted, “Has nearly destroyed itself in your absence?”

Q huffed at Bond’s joking tone, shooting him a look, but then merely commented, “See how funny you think it is when you get yourself in a fix on a mission and I’m too busy getting Q-branch back in working order to help you.”  The lithe young man - now Vampire - looked out the window, moodily grumbling, “You think I’m joking, but I’m not!”  

Bond tried not to laugh, and they enjoyed a comfortable silence all the way back to MI6, where Q was given a warm and obvious reunion by his neglected techies.  As predicted, a lot had gone by the wayside in the absence of the Quartermaster, so when Q dove into his work as if he’d never left it, no one stopped him.  

“He’s back,” was all Bond said with a self-explanatory shrug to M, before turning and padding smoothly away.  He hadn’t fed in what felt like forever, and he happened to know that Moneypenny was around headquarters today...

~^~

Everything went well until Q finally got hungry enough that he couldn’t just ignore his new taste for blood.  Everyone had been watching for this, and Bond had been detained at MI6 for just such an occasion - unfortunately, a rash of slave-trade operations had the 00-division stretched thin, so 007 got called away.  Q was well aware of this condition, however, and assured Bond, M, and everyone else who was hovering over him that it would be fine.  

“Miss Moneypenny has already kindly offered to be my... meal,” Q informed Bond on a secured line while Bond was in a hotel in Spain, arming up for a raid with 002 scheduled for an hour later.  Q could hear the agent moving about as he checked weapons and strapped all manner of dangerous objects on his person, conversing with Q through his earpiece but somehow still able to envision the little twitch of a frown on Q’s face as he picked his words.  “Everything should be fine, because even if I’m dismally new at this, Moneypenny has experience.  Actually,” Q mused, tone shifting to encompass a slight teasing tone, “she’s been more than willing to chat about her past experiences with you.”

Bond froze, just for a split-second, before he pulled on his 00-agent mask and acted completely calm and cool again.  “Experiences, you say?” he nonchalantly kept up his end of the conversation.  

“Hmm,” Q confirmed, “How long were you going to wait before telling me that biting a person turned them on, Agent Bond?”

If Q was calling him ‘Agent Bond,’ this wasn’t good - Bond and every other agent in MI6 knew that the Quartermaster could verbally eviscerate a person while sounding perfectly pleasant the whole time.  It was a skill that actually would be quite valuable in the field, to be honest.  “002 is calling me, Q, I’ve got to go,” Bond lied as he loaded one last gun.

“Coward,” Q snorted, but then backed off and relented, “I’ll tell you how it goes with Moneypenny.”

Bond could still remember his first time feeding, and felt a flicker of protectiveness and worry as he thought about Q taking the last step into true Vampire-hood.  If he’d looked at the feeling more closely, he’d have labeled it as sincere foreboding.  Instead, he just grunted, “Do that,” before focusing on his mission again.  

The mission went well - both 007 and 002 were skilled and focused, and made a seamless team.

Back at MI6, however, everything went to hell in a hand-basket.  

~^~

“What happened?” Bond demanded as he stalked into M’s office.  He’d barely gotten off the plane when he’d gotten the call: Moneypenny was in Medical and the Psych department was circling Q like buzzards around a prospective kill.  Things had gone badly.  

Apparently Q had escaped Psych long enough to also be in M’s office - or he was possibly hiding in it in the company of the silver-haired woman - because he tiredly cut 007 off, “Bond, it wasn’t really as bad as all that-”  The Quartermaster removed his glasses and rubbed at his eyes as he was, unsurprisingly, interrupted.

“Moneypenny is in Medical and you still haven’t fed,” Bond bluntly laid out the facts he’d heard on the phone.  “Neither of those things are good.”

Instead of defending himself, Q replaced his glasses and then corrected in a voice that was flat and hollow, “Moneypenny nearly died.  I did technically feed, however, so everyone can stop worrying about me.”

Having had enough of the two men bristling in her office, M finally breathed a sigh and stepped around from behind her desk.  She laid out the more detailed facts that hadn’t been given to 007 over the phone, “Miss Moneypenny took precautions, so when Q lost control, help arrived as quickly as could be hoped.”  Q was leaning over his knees now, looking like he was going to be sick, his eyes large and troubled and his mouth a tight line against pale skin.  “There was blood loss, but fortunately we’ve got some competent Medical personnel who were prepared for something like this happening.”  

Bond was still as tense as a live-wire, eyes as razor-sharp as they ever were in a mission situation, but before he could ask or say anything, Q’s soft voice spoke up as he continued to stare listlessly at the floor, “She told me to take from her neck.  She smiled, and said that that was the fastest way, because she knew I appreciated efficiency.”

The wince was clearly visible on Bond’s face as he listened to this and took note of Q’s obvious regret - for once, Bond was definitely going to encourage that the Quartermaster be locked in with Psych for awhile.  “That was a poor decision on Moneypenny’s part,” he muttered, looking over at M, who nodded minutely as her mouth tightened.  Bond softened his tone a bit and reached out a hand towards Q’s shoulder, wishing he hadn’t been out of the country when this had all happened, “Q…”

His hand was batted away, the movement of Q’s arm swifter than humanly possible as Q stopped ‘playing human’ for a moment.  Likewise, Q approached the door nearly in a blur, swaying slightly as he stopped in front of the entryway and regained his balance.  “I’m fine, 007.  I just want to get back to work.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving M looking tightlipped with frustration and Bond’s eyes still narrowed in worry.  “You’re sure that he actually got some blood in him before things went south?” he had to ask his boss.  

“No,” she said with her usual lack of sugarcoating, “I’m not.”

~Two Weeks~

Q had avoided Moneypenny, avoided Bond, avoided M.  He hadn’t managed to escape a trip to the Psych department to talk about almost killing a co-worker by tearing open her throat, but apparently that infamous IQ of their Quartermaster wasn’t just useful for commandeering traffic signals and typing up code.  After an hour sitting in front of a psychiatrist, Q was dismissed and told never to return, and no one would speak of the conversation they had.  The most anyone could make sense of it, Q had run mental circles around the man until it was hard to tell who was more traumatized.

Q had silently returned to his department and buried himself so deeply in his work that people began to wonder if he needed to come up for air.  

And time passed.  And Bond knew from talking with Moneypenny that Q hadn’t really fed and was definitely starving himself by now, but avoiding anything to do with blood.

After Q began secluding himself in the most abandoned parts of Q-branch to do his work, Bond finally sighed and braced himself for the inevitable, throwing caution to the wind and following the Quartermaster down into the depths of Q-branch.  Most of the building was deserted at this hour, and even if it weren’t, it would not have been hard to spot the hunched form of Q leaning over his desk.  There wasn’t any work in front of him - no gadgets, no gears, no computer screens. There was nothing but Q, looking like something the cat had dragged in and keening softly to himself as hunger ravaged him from the inside.  

Bond sighed and stepped forward, unhesitantly wrapping capable hands around Q’s arms to lift him up.  Q gasped and started in surprise, but he didn’t have Strength like Bond did, and Speed didn’t help if he was already well in hand.  “Come on, Q,” murmured Bond, words soft and surprisingly gentle, as if too much volume or verbal pressure would break the dark-haired man in his grip.  This close, he could see the dark circles under Q’s eyes and the way his skin looked sallow instead of simply pale.  

“I don’t want-!” Q started to deny frantically, knowing without thinking where Bond was going with this.  He’d barely started arguing than he was squeezing his eyes shut against lightheadedness when Bond pulled him to a standing position next to him, however.  Still, as Q swayed and pressed his eyes shut against vertigo, he whimpered wretchedly, “I don’t want blood.  I won’t force anyone to feed me after what I’ve done.”  

Either out of affection or to keep his Quartermaster from falling over, the blond agent kept Q close to his body, also replying soothingly, “I know, Q.  I know.  And you’re not going to force anyone.”

“Ha.  I’m not, am I?” came the horribly cracked and bitter laugh, but when Q’s eyes opened to focus on Bond’s, they were only incredibly sad.  Bond felt himself flinch in a way that went soul-deep, realizing (perhaps for the first time) that this was exactly what he’d done to Q when he’d dragged him into this inhuman existence.  Q didn’t remove his gaze as he continued with a shattered excuse for a dry smirk, “I’m just going to bloody them up a little and pray to every deity ever created that they survive the experience.  Bond, you know I’m awful at this-!”

“Because you haven’t had any practice, Q,” Bond replied, interrupting again in a slightly exasperated murmur.  Q still needed his support, but he managed to shift the man underneath one arm, so that they could start walking.  They weren’t going to make any progress down here.

“Because I could kill someone!” Q immediately protested the idea.  

“You won’t.  I promise.  Not with this man.  I should have done this earlier, but I couldn’t.”

That stopped Q, as his head turned to face Bond again, with a look of bewilderment on his strained features this time.  “Why?  Who?” he asked in clear befuddlement.  

Bond merely answered both questions in one go, his strength and finesse easily making up for Q’s weakness and stumbling steps as they walked out, “Alec has been out of the country this whole time.”

~^~

“Shhh, Q.  It’s all right,” Bond coaxed, using a side of himself rarely shown.  The assassin, the seducer - both personas were absent for once as 007, 006, and Q sat at the edge of Alec’s couch with nothing but the quiet apartment around them.  “You can’t hurt him.”  

Bond and the Quartermaster had arrived at Alec’s flat just a bit after midnight, Alec letting them in with his crooked, toothy smile as if this were just a pleasant surprise.  One glance at Bond, however - a raised eyebrow from 006, a grim nod in reply from 007 - and Alec had let them in and padded with leonine steps to the couch, not needing to ask what this was about.  “Bring him over, James,” he called back casually, as relaxed as could be.    

Now, Q was panting at Alec’s throat, one hand spasming on the collar of 006’s shirt while the other splayed against the agent’s chest, as if holding himself back.  He had fixated on Alec’s throat the second they’d come inside, but had refused to do anything about it - even after Bond had pushed him towards Alec and the latter agent had removed Q’s glasses so he wouldn’t accidentally damage then.  Q had gravitated towards him like a small star pulled towards the unforgiving gravity of a black hole, fighting uselessly the whole way.  

The Quartermaster squeezed his eyes shut even tighter and whimpered a bit as Bond’s low words slipped past his defenses where sharp tones would not have.  Usually, Bond was a glorified killing machine, one of the many walking, talking guns of MI6, but there were many other facets of 007 that existed and deviated quite a bit from what most of his targets saw - and right now one of those facets was prying its way under Q’s skin.  

Alec huffed, taking a different tact while Bond used gentleness: 006 wrapped a calloused hand around the wrist of the hand Q was bracing against his right pectoral, and summarily removed the physical bulwark holding Q back.  He ignored the little gasp of panicked breath as Q fought the movement too late, and admittedly halfheartedly.  Alec released a faint breath of laughter that had his chest moving now to nearly touch Q’s, “Of course your boffin isn’t going to hurt me.  He hasn’t even got Strength, has he?”  

“No, but he’s bloody fast at the most inconvenient times.  Anything else he might have is still surfacing,” Bond calmly reported, not taking part in the tone that Alec was using to lighten the mood.  007’s hand reached out to brush the hair at the back of Q’s head, stroking it to his nape as he watched Q’s terrified morals battle it out against the hungry nature no doubt clawing up his insides - by now, Q was physically unable to pull back from a possible food source (a.k.a. Alec Trevelyan), but he was still refusing to actually feed.  Bond squeezed the Quartermaster’s nape and watched the shiver travel down the smaller man’s spine like a wave released by the subtle pressure.  Since Bond did have Strength, that was only a fraction of what he could do - technically, Q knew this, but it would probably be a bit before it really sank in.  Very few people understood truly how dangerous Bond was, and the few who really did were probably also dead.

Or they were Alec, who had spent an inordinate amount of time around Vampires and honestly wasn’t afraid of them anymore.  

It was Alec who spoke next, however, his omnipresent humor still readily available in his tone despite the fact that he was the one human in the room and had one of his bosses more or less on his lap, “Come on, Q, if you’re as hungry as James here says you are, you may as well just go for it.”  

Q seemed to give a little then, with a choked gasp as if he’d been refusing even to breathe until he heard the cajoling tone of Alec’s voice.  “Just…” he gasped, the feared alacrity of that Quartermaster wit for once failing him, “It’s just that…!”  His mop of hair tickled the underside of Alec’s jaw as Q shook his head firmly.  Bond’s hand lowered onto Q’s back to rub warm circles through the fabric of his shirt as if it were the most natural thing - both agents, in fact, were remarkably relaxed.  Maybe it helped that they faced possible death on a weekly basis, making the panickings of a young Vampire almost mundane by comparison.  To Q, however, the fear was the sharpest he’d ever felt, and he finally blurted out without ever pulling his head away from the lee of 006’s throat, “I’m not good at this!  I really could hurt you!”

“And you could die without blood,” Alec returned, with a level of calmness that was absurd, as if he were remarking on the weather.  

Q sighed shakily again, giving in another inch - the final inch.  “Just let me... feed off your wrist first.  Please?  I can do less damage there, I imagine.”  

Exchanging a look, Bond and Alec both shrugged at each other, and then Alec was pushing Q back because the Quartermaster didn’t actually have the self-control at the moment to pull back on his own.  “All right,” Alec acquiesced, rolling up his sleeve, “but you’ll just end up back where you started anyway, I guarantee it.”

“Why?”  Q was perplexed, and his eyes were still fixed on the throb of Alec’s throat as if it held all of the mysteries of the world.  

Bond looped an arm unhesitantly around Q’s waist, both to ground him and to hold him in place while he answered blatantly, “What are you looking at right now, Q?”  He paused to let that sink in, watching as hazy green eyes blinked torpidly.  “I hope that answers your question.”

While Q blushed furiously and tried to turn his gaze anywhere but at Alec’s neck, the one human in the group started laughing, unable to resist prodding, “Look at him, Bond!  He’s adorable.”

When Q glared at him and bared his teeth, the faint taper of fangs were visible.  “I think I’m an awful long way from being adorable, especially if what you two say about my appetite right now is true.”

“You’re still just a puppy, Quartermaster.  And a boffin besides.  Trust me, I have nothing to worry about.”  006 jerked his chin towards the other blond agent, saying flippantly, “James is worse.”  

Bond chose to ignore him, clearly not offended, and instead shifted which arm was holding Q so that he could reach with the other into his pocket.  For his part, Q was too distracted to really think about how close he suddenly was to one of M’s best agents, hugged tightly enough to feel the beat of Bond’s heart against his shoulder-blades.  The two had managed to maintain decorum and a professional level of distance while Q got used to being a Vampire in Bond’s flat, but it had been hard not to cross those personal boundaries... which now seemed to be going up in smoke at an alarming pace.  

007 had flicked out a small knife, the blade appearing like magic as he looked from Alec to the man’s bared wrist.  “Want a little help?”

Now Alec grimaced a bit, and shot back at Bond sullenly, “I don’t trust you with a knife.”  Nonetheless, he realized that Q would very likely be just as bad at biting open a vein as he said he was, so starting the process with a blade sounded like a good idea.  Alec took the knife from Bond’s hand while carefully keeping all bare skin out of Q’s reach (Q, who was unconsciously leaning forwards again).  

Bond relinquished the blade without hesitation, but still commented with a faint smirk and a playful light in his sky-blue eyes, “You trust me with a knife more than you trust anyone else.”

“Yeah, and that's not saying much,” Alec grunted, then expertly created a small cut on the inside of his forearm.  “Okay, you can let him loose.  Let’s see just how fast our new Quartermaster is.”

The answer was quite.  The second that Bond released him, Q’s lithe frame was shooting forward, his hands catching hold of Alec’s arm with the precision of a hawk plummeting out of the sky onto prey - and his mouth followed suit a fraction of a second later with a pearly flash of teeth.  Alec hissed and swore even as both men reached forward and grabbed Q, steadying him so that he didn’t do any permanent damage to Alec or possibly even to himself.  

“Okay, point proven, James,” Alec grunted, as they got Q stilled.  The pain in Alec’s arm was quickly fading even as Q sucked greedily at his cut skin.  “Your boffin’s got Speed in spades.”  Alec’s head rocked back, eyes half closing, as the effect of Q lapping and nicking his arm with over-eager teeth starting to sink in like an after-mission high.  It shuddered through his veins like distant thunder.  

Since there were no less than three strong hands on Q - two of them possessing Strength to an inhuman degree - everyone felt it when the blood from Alec’s arm wasn’t enough, and Q grew restless.  “Here we go,” Bond muttered a second before Q - all but incoherent with the hunger he’d been holding back for weeks - lurched away from 006’s forearm like a swaying drunk, panting before he twisted to seek a better source for his meal.  As 006 had predicted, Q’s senses were unerring even if his feeding technique was shoddy at best, and he’d twisted around to nuzzle his head up under Alec’s jaw in seconds.  Both agents could have stopped him, but the most either one did was direct him a little.

Again, with 007 watching him and with 006 trained how to take this, Q broke into a vein with the minimal amount of messiness.  Alec’s arm was already healing over, a Vampire’s bite designed never to scar, with only smears of red to prove that the Quartermaster had been latched on a second ago.  A second soft curse accompanied the second bite, but by now, Alec’s eyes were half-lidded lazily, like a lion who had found a good patch of sun.  He only hissed and grimaced when Q’s fangs slipped from time to time, teeth like the sharp tips of knives in an amateur’s hands.  

Having drunk a little, Q’s mind was coming back, and had the sense to feel regretful.  When he thought to apologize for the pain he was causing, however, only a whimper came out, muffled because he couldn’t think how to pull his mouth away from the wound he had created on Alec’s neck.  Hunger still had a grip like iron on him, making him panic in his own skin, but he calmed when he felt a heavy, warm presence at his back to match the muscled frame he was clinging to.  It was 007, leaning near him, no doubt keeping an eye out to make sure Q didn’t accidentally lacerate an artery.  “It’s all right,” James murmured optimistically, his voice pleasantly close, and for a fuzzy moment Q thought he was talking to him.  

Then he felt 007 lean closer still, and a cracked-open eye showed 007 leaning past Q to catch 006’s mouth, a gesture that probably did a spectacular job of distracting 006 from Q’s clumsy feeding.  Q nearly choked on a mouthful of blood before instincts and hunger took over to make him swallow, trapped between two warm, hard bodies.  

“Careful, James,” Alec pulled back from the other 00-agent enough to chide with his usual humor, “I think you’re disturbing the baby.”

Q managed to hold back his hunger long enough to growl into Alec’s throat, “I’m not a baby,” at the same time that 007’s more clear, cultured voice retorted, “No, I’m not.”  

By this point, Q was trying to fight his way past his appetite, realizing that his brain was drowning in the sense of thirst and the scent of blood and warm skin, to the point where he had barely managed to form words. ‘This isn’t right!  This isn’t right!’ his brain screamed, jaws cramping even as he tried to push back against Alec’s chest again.

“James?” 006 said, remarkably untroubled despite the fact that he had a set of sharp little teeth in his neck and a lithe man who was supposed to be his Quartermaster thoroughly invading his personal space, “Do you think you could grab Q’s hands?  He’s doing that thing again where he thinks he’s hurting me or something.”  There was laughter imbedded in 006’s voice.

Bond snorted, the sound close enough to ruffle Q’s hair and make him jump.  He'd barely backed off since kissing 006 right over Q's head.  “I don’t think a full-grown bear could hurt you, Alec,” he joked, and then his calloused hand was circling Q’s wrist and pulling it away.  When Q stubbornly tried to struggle and hold his own, Bond merely turned on his Strength a little, and Q found to his utter shock that he may as well have been fighting against a steel manacle.  For the first time, he truly began to appreciate the abilities that 007 had.  

“It’s all right, Q,” came Bond’s voice, close at hand again as he grabbed Q’s other wrist, now using his grip to wrap both of their limbs close around Q’s torso.  The motion brought the Quartermaster even nearer to the blue-eyed agent, and Q whimpered as he lost any ability he might have had to fight the ravenous need to feed that was still clawing at his stomach.  Even without the unreasoning hunger, 007’s voice was like a drug, smooth and warm like honeyed promises.  Q’s muddled brain reminded him that both of these men were his coworkers, and that if anyone saw them in such compromising positions it would be scandalous even without the added blood-drinking, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Then again, considering how he was coming to appreciate 007’s inhuman Strength, he probably couldn’t have done anything about it anyway.  

Q was still conflicted, aware that every twitch of his jaw was damaging, but he didn’t know how to do this right…!  He was abruptly distracted from his panic as a large hand threaded fingers through his hair, and it couldn’t have been Bond’s hand, because Bond was still restraining Q so he couldn't shove back against 006.  “Quartermaster, I’m going to let you in on a secret,” Alec’s voice grated huskily next to his ear, surprising Q even as the roughly pleasant tone stroked his ears like a hand down a cat’s back.  “I like this.”  The hand in Q’s hair tightened enough for Q to feel sparks on his scalp, blunt, calloused fingers scratching at his skull - but when Q gasped in surprise and involuntarily bit down harder, 006 moaned.  

That was the point where Q finally lost it.  The last shreds of his fear and guilt gave way, and Q let his brain turn off to give his hunger control.  

He was aware of Bond releasing his hands after a moment more, but he still trusted Bond to keep him in check - James was still very much present, at least, as he leisurely leaned over Q’s back to kiss 006 again, greedily swallowing the moan.  When Alec reached around one hand to fist in Bond’s collar, 007 chuckled, and Q merely accepted it as inevitable when Alec’s other arm moved around his back to hold him closer.  At least Q didn’t have to worry about being jarred loose, with his body trapped where it was.  Some back corner of his mind was still jibbering about how inappropriate and wildly unprofessional this was, but that part of his mind was silenced by the hunger that was slowly - finally - being soothed.  

Occasionally Alec heaved against him - usually because of something bloody 007 had done, because James was clearly enjoying this as much as anyone was, and making quite a nuisance of himself in the process.  By this point, however, the Quartermaster’s dexterous fingers were latched onto Alec’s shirt with the intent of never letting go, so he rode it out when the two agents kissed over his head and grappled briefly with skilled, carnal hands.  

Q hoped that his memory of all this would be fuzzy or nonexistent later, because he wasn’t sure he could ever look at 006 and 7 the same way again after this.  

“Okay, Alec, he’s good,” James’s warm assurance somehow sifted into Q’s awareness.  Somewhere along the line, Q’s eyes had closed and he’d stopped paying attention, because the hunger had gone from a bonfire to a low, pleasant burn.  He was barely lapping at Alec’s neck now, and by the way 006 was petting the nape of his neck in return, the agent appreciated the sensation - Q stubbornly refused to think about that.  

Alec was almost too relaxed to reply, and he grunted more than answered, “Fine.  Whatever you say.  See if you can unlatch our boffin.”

“I imagine I can do that,” returned Bond glibly, before Q was startled by the sensation of a hand gliding over the surface of his throat.  The feeling was terrifying at first, but Bond’s grip never tightened, and the feeling switched swiftly into the realm of intoxicating.  “Can you hear me, Q?”

Q hummed, which was perhaps an answer.  He couldn’t seem to remember how to leave Alec’s throat, however - which would have bothered him if he weren’t so contented and... tired.  He felt tired… and absolutely lovely with a scarred hand stroking his throat and feeling his pulse.

Bond withdrew his touch and there was the faint snick of Bond opening his knife again, and then Q smelled blood of a different kind.  It wasn’t Alec’s, which confused him, and didn’t have the same pull on his senses, but it got him to open his eyes and look around.  

“Come on, Q,” Bond purred in his ear, perhaps switching on the seductive side of his training as the need required it.  He was smiling a faint, crooked, enigmatic smile, but mostly Q saw the bloodied fingertips being pressed close to his nose.  The scent was neither good nor bad, but Q was mostly just surprised that he could smell it.  When Bond pressed his hand closer until one finger was prodding unabashedly at Q’s lips, the Quartermaster didn’t fight the intrusion.  There was little point in maintaining his dignity anymore anyway.  

Besides, even though Bond’s blood didn’t taste nearly as good or filling as Alec’s, it still soothed something in him as the lacerated pad of one finger slipped in far enough to stroke his tongue.  The rest of Bond’s fingers curled around the outside of his mouth like a muzzle, but Bond was slow and gentle as he pulled the Quartermaster away from his fellow agent.  

Alec was chuckling, a low rumble of amused sound.  “Good technique, James.  And you’re not enjoying this at all, are you?” he teased, dabbing at his neck with his sleeve - Q had nearly licked the wound closed, though.  

Right now, Q couldn’t find any reason to pull away as he was pillowed gently against 007, the muscles of the man’s torso surprisingly comfortable as Bond took the liberty of wrapping his free arm around the Quartermaster’s comparatively flat stomach.  Bond’s other hand was still cupping Q’s chin, one - sometimes two - fingers slipped almost lecherously into Q’s mouth as the younger man sucked blood out of the rapidly healing wound.  Q was still honestly deciding whether he even liked the taste or not, because it wasn’t very filling, it seemed, to drink from another Vampire... but it was soothing.  

Bond’s ring and smallest finger were free, and scratched idly at Q’s chin.  “Shut it, Alec,” the other agent murmured.  The sound was a pleasant burr against Q’s back.  “I’m just making sure you still have some blood left in you.”

“And the fact that Q is absolutely beautiful like this has nothing to do with it?”

‘Absolutely beautiful…?’  Q’s brain tried to surface from the sea of contentedness it had sunk into, but it was like fighting the tide.  Something about the way 007’s arm tightened about his middle made him sink faster, feeling safer and more relaxed than he had since he’d hurt Moneypenny.  Q was almost asleep by the time he felt Bond slip his hand free of his mouth, wetted fingertips ghosting briefly over Q’s lips.  The self-inflicted wound had healed long ago.

“Don’t you ever get tired enough to shut your trap, Alec?” Bond grumbled, sounding tired himself.  

Q didn’t hear the answer, because he finally slipped away far enough to fall completely asleep.  

~^~

Q hadn’t felt this good in ages, he thought as he slowly woke up.  Granted, he was a veteran insomniac and often stayed awake for days at a time before more or less passing out as if the world didn’t exist - so a normal, restful sleep was rare.  

Wait...  How had he ended up in a restful sleep?

In a spark like an electric shock, Q remembered the events of the night before, including but not limited to the extreme overabundance of physical contact with two of his agents.  And right now... he realized that he was in bed, and both agents were curled up around him like brackets enclosing a sentence.  Big, muscular brackets.  Showing a lot of bare muscle and skin where the blankets had slipped down around their waists.  

Q was shirtless, too, much to his petrified horror - and when he tried to sit up, he found that Bond was lying on his arm, effectively making sure the Quartermaster was stuck there.  While Q just blinked rapidly at the situation he now found himself in, Bond murmured without so much as opening his eyes, “Deep breaths, Q.”

“ ‘Deep breaths’?!” Q repeated incredulously in a quiet but fervent hiss, “How am I supposed to-?!”

When Q tried to yank his arm out from under Bond’s head, the other man almost lazily slapped a hand down on his forearm, preventing the movement before Q could bring his Speed into play.  Only now did Bond open his eyes, rolling them and managing to look basically sleep-rumpled and bored as he addressed Q’s shock.  “Settle down, Q.  Before you wake Alec.”

“Why do I not have a shirt on?!” Q snapped back as if he didn’t hear him.  Just as he was going to get hysterical, he let out a startled yelp at the feeling of arms sliding around him from behind: Alec.  “Oh, yes, 006 is totally asleep,” Q growled with enough acidic irony to eat through glass.  He was unsure whether to fight against the grip or pretend it didn’t exist until it somehow magically didn’t.  One way or another, his first tentative wriggle proved to him that he’d never get out of 006’s grip, not unless he miraculously manifested Strength like Bond had, and fast.  Most infuriatingly and embarrassingly, Alec continued to pretend he was asleep - even going so far as to breathe deeply right up against the back of Q’s neck until the Quartermaster squeaked.  

Through all of this, 007 had remained lax and comfortable, one muscled arm tucked beneath the pillow under his head and still effectively keeping Q’s right arm hostage.  Now, of course, the blond-haired man was smiling, too, an impudent look that stretched across his face while the morning sun did wonderful things to his pectoral and abdominal muscles.  “You’re missing your shirt because it had blood on it, and your shoes because no one sleeps with shoes on if they want to be comfortable.”

“Do I look comfortable?” Q retorted scathingly from Alec’s overly-possessive arms, although the Quartermaster did a quick personal inventory and noticed that he still had his trousers on and even his socks.  With those statistics, chances were good that all he’d done was share the bed with these two... although that was still as embarrassing as hell.  He wasn’t sure if it made it better or worse that Bond looked absolutely stunning relaxed on the bed with his short blond hair in all directions and his whole frame quiet and still for once.  

Of course, in response to Q’s catty question, Bond smiled wider and he replied, “You look too wonderful for words, Q.”

“Yes, I’m sure that ‘well-fed Vampire’ is a good look for me,” Q retorted to keep from blushing, but he was pretty sure that Alec’s insistent hugging of him had permanently branded all of his skin with a red flush.  Even worse, Q knew for a fact that the color would be spreading visibly down his chest by now, and across to his ears.  Bond must have found it cute, because he was still smiling at him, his grin only broadening.  That look was what ultimately goaded Q to stop subtly squirming against Alec’s muscular arms and instead snap, “And why are you so happy?”

Alec’s head shifted around, breath a warm rush against the Quartermaster’s ear, and the agent stopped playing possum and murmured quite unabashedly, “James and I might have had sex.”

If it weren’t for 006’s arms wrapped around his middle, Q would have jumped up clear through the ceiling like a startled cat, his face going from blushing pink to mortified red as Alec’s words sank in.  At long last, he started struggling in earnest, mumbling all sorts of embarrassed phrases and curses and apologies and what-have-you while 006 laughed his head off.  

Bond, at least, had enough pity to stop his own laughter and sit up - inadvertently calming Q by showing that the agent at least had clothing on, although they were sweatpants that Q had never seen before.  Still, Q was embarrassed enough to be waking up with two of his top agents without having to accept that the two larger men were naked.  Well, the jury was still out on Alec’s state of undress, but Q was pretty sure his heels had brushed against cloth when they tried to connect with Alec’s shins.  “Q - Q, calm down,” Bond suggested, still smirking, “Just relax and lie back down.”

“I’m in bed with you two cads and you expect me to just lie down again?” Q asked a little wildly.  

Leave it to Alec to take ‘cad’ as a compliment, making an approving sound.  However, when the large man pressed a chaste kiss to the protruding vertebrae at the back of Q’s neck, the gesture was somehow calming rather than unsettling.  Bond was watching and his eyes hooded lazily, darkening a shade as he let Alec respond.  “Well, that could hardly be worse than sucking bruises into the side of my neck last night, now could it?” Alec pointed out reasonably.  

Somehow, Q blushed harder, breathing out slowly as he remembered that with clarity.  “Those will heal,” he noted weakly.

“Well, they would have already,” Alec felt the need to add, “but James over there decided to mark over them so that they’d stick for longer.”  James grinned unrepentantly, showing teeth that looked deceptively normal even as he leered pleasantly.  “But seriously, Q, if you really had starved yourself as long as James says you did, your body has been through quite a shock.  Just rest a bit.”

“I’ve got to work,” Q reminded them.  Alec’s arms were slowly sliding off him, and Q calculated how much further they’d have to retreat before he could slip free - considering how fast he could move, he’d be home free after that.  James knew that all too well, however, and had shifted a bit closer.  Shit.  It would be a lot harder to slip free with 007 at this range... and smiling languidly in his face.  Q felt just a little bit frozen.

Alec, at least, seemed to be intent on falling back to sleep.  His shifting as he settled on the bed again caused him to brush against Q in numerous places, of course.  “Nope.  You’ve got the day off.  M’s orders,” he mumbled.  

Q, up on one elbow now, twisted around to eye Alec.  “Orders…?”  Then, too late, he felt Bond’s fingers sneak forward and snag around his wrist, pulling it out from under him with a neat jerk.  Q thumped back onto the bed with a curse as his support was removed.  

“Give it up, Quartermaster,” the man drawled, sliding back down on the bed again - now on his back, not bothering to pull the blankets up as they pooled around his midsection.  Before Q could give Bond (and then Trevelyan) a piece of his mind, Bond closed his eyes and murmured with less joviality and more sincerity, “It’s early, Q, and Alec and I don’t get a lot of uninterrupted sleep in our profession.  M knows I took you to Alec to feed, so you have free reign to sleep in, too.”

Alec picked up the narrative, face half-buried in the pillow, “But if you insist on getting up and running around like a spooked cat, we will have to get up.”  It was as if the touchy-feely Alec had lost interest in Q, leaving nothing but a sleepy 006 curled up loosely on his side at Q’s back.  This side of Alec was easier to deal with... marginally.  It was no less disconcerting to be lying half-naked in bed with two agents he regularly directed on missions and yelled at when they destroyed his tech.  These two were actually the most destructive of the lot, so logically they should be the last ones Q would consider being bedmates with…

But what they said made sense, and despite himself Q found guilt stirring in his chest.  

Bond must have seen the emotion.  Damn MI6 for teaching that man to read faces…  “At least go back to sleep for Alec’s sake,” Bond coaxed, gripping Q’s sympathy and deftly prodding at it, “He has to recover from blood-loss.”

Briefly Q felt a combination of nausea and regret, but he sublimated it quickly to instead purse his lips in an unamused line and comment dryly, “But not so much that he could not engage in sex with you?”  

Of course, that didn’t embarrass Bond in the slightest, as his blue eyes darkened a shade to match his suggestive, lewd smile.  “What are you getting at?” he asked playfully.  

“Ha,” Q replied, lowering himself back down to the bed tentatively, trying not to touch either man he was sharing space with, “I’m not going to get into a conversation with you over that.”  He settled on his side again, deciding that if he’d lasted this far like that, he’d be safe for a few hours more - therefore, he only jumped slightly and tolerated it when one of 006’s shoulders nudged his back.  Q held his breath until the flash of mortification faded to controllable levels again, and then let it out and relaxed.  It wasn’t really uncomfortable being here - quite the contrary.  Alec’s bed was big enough to accommodate three (something Q was determinedly not thinking about), and Q reflected that it was impossible to feel safer than sandwiched between two world-class assassins.  It was not unusual for Q to toss and turn for hours wondering what would happen if some enemy of MI6 were to get past his security and find him, but right now, any security on Alec’s flat would be to keep intruders safe, not the men harbored within.  If anyone were to come for the Quartermaster, they’d be swiftly deterred (and by ‘deterred’ Q meant ‘summarily and permanently disposed of’) by 006 and 007.  

Plus, the two of them were very, very warm.  

“How does one become a furnace?  You both exude heat like bloody kilns, but I’ve got to sleep with socks on,” Q found himself muttering petulantly, tugging Bond’s pillow his way so he could use it himself.  Bond’s arm unexpectedly came with it, but at least the man only growled at him and then let the pillow go.  The muscular limb stubbornly hooked beneath the pillow merely made it a firmer place to put Q’s head.  

Bond rolled his blue eyes before closing them, clearly intent on avoiding the rising sun and going back to sleep.  He rocked onto his side, muscles flexing as he came close enough for Q to feel his breath and smell the scent of gun-oil and sweat lingering on his skin - not to mention close enough for Q to get the full effect of the man’s body-heat as 007 reclaimed his pillow by the sheer act of moving himself to where it was.  “Just go to sleep, Q.  You’re not talking sense anymore, and you never sleep enough anyway.”

“You should take up babysitting,” Q muttered, eyes closing despite themselves, “It would give you an outlet for these mother-hen instincts you’re showing with such alarming consistency.”

Alec’s low growl cut off further banter, especially since it was considerably more vicious than anything so far: “Q, if you don’t go to sleep and let me sleep, I’m going to fuck you into the bed and tie Bond to the headboard so he bloody has to just sit there and watch.”

Not at all surprisingly, Bond and Q obeyed.  Soon the room was a picture of silence and stillness except for steady breaths and rising and falling ribs - some wrapped in muscle, some lithe sinews beneath sleek lines.  Somehow the image looked natural, with Q’s dark head nestled between two blond ones as they whiled away the morning and well into noon.  

~^~