Work Text:
Somehow the main area of the Q branch always succeeded to intimidate Bond, the very vibes pouring off it constantly changing, nothing in it stable. Whilst it wasn’t that different from how his own life could be summarised as, he simply did not like lingering unless it was necessary when around people who could easily find out more than he wanted about him.
It was as plain as anywhere else in the MI6 building, no real distractions for those who had grown used to the area. Unlike usual darkness and silence swallowed what was usually bright and buzzing with life, only the faint glow from Q’s office offering any light. At least that was something that would seem familiar if the spy had been the one walking to it. Nobody who had been to the department would be surprised by the young man working so ridiculously late, and they would know only a very select number of individuals would ever interrupt him when he was doing so. The first few times Bond had entered those still around had almost fainted when they’d both come out uninjured and was Q making Bond laugh? Not that anyone had ever seen a point in asking about it yet a select couple had noticed how it was becoming increasingly common for Bond to give the quartermaster a ride home at the end of the night.
Rumours spread as they would anywhere, no one understanding as to why the 00 agent would wish to spend so much time with someone he constantly teased about his age. Whatever makeshift friendship they had, there was nothing but the odd knowing smirk exchanged between them when they knew they were being watched. Smiles nobody but them would ever be able to translate. Yet as the smirks became all the more secretive the less people had to complain, Bond seemingly more capable of controlling himself on missions and Q standing his ground far more openly when people made an issue of working with him because of his age. Both sides seemed to stabilise and it was only time before somebody ended up putting the dots together to make sense of the situation.
Tapping interrupted the silence, Q still completely immersed in his work and unaware of the intruder easily wondering between the desks, in no rush to get to the only person left working. The intruder smirked to himself, knowing full well the security was either at the other side of the building or scattered dead on the ground like broken porcelain dolls. Getting to the point to make it possible had taken months but it had also given the off pair all the more time to get used to being near each other. The first little step to revenge wasn’t worth it if it wasn’t as excruciating as humanly possible for the spy. Watching had shown an approach and they were more than willing to grab it slowly if it worked in the long run. But the first step had to be taken sooner or later after all.
With experienced silence he moved closer to the door, amused nobody had informed this side of the building about any problems. The genius was simply there because he wanted to be, dim light barely showing him the keyboard he never even glanced at, fingers moving quicker than the intruder had seen anyone’s moving before. It was a shame things had to go how they were going to.
Keeping the surprisingly young man alive could have come in useful one day.
Not that it mattered. The organisation already had all they needed in the manner of agents. Fingers traced over the door handle of the slightly open door, slowly gripping it ready to open ad his other hand holding the cold metal. His orders were very clear: this was not to be too fast or too slow. For it to fit the plan everything had to be precisely planned down to the smallest of actions. As he pulled the door squeaked open, interrupting the tapping only briefly before it continued, Q letting out a small sigh as he spoke, still not having looked up to see who his visitor was.
“James, when you said you’d drag me home if I didn’t finish soon I thought you’d at least give me more than five minutes.” Amusement filled his tone as he spoke, clearly happy that ‘James’ was there whilst being annoyed at the lack of time he was given to finish whatever was so important to him. “When have I ever been able to finish polishing my work off in five minutes?”
Stepping into the room the intruder let the door shut behind himself, blocking the only exit as his smirk grew. Without being focused on he probably seemed a great deal like Bond- they were near to the same height and build, the bad lighting making it hard to tell what hair colour he did have. When he did finally speak his tone was far rougher than Bond’s usually was with the quartermaster. “Your little boyfriend couldn’t make it. Just you and I, I’m afraid.” Eyes snapped up from the computer, the tapping finally stopping. “Now, you really should put your hands where I can see them before I have to harm you.”
Q slowly did as told, hands barely raised but in full sight as he shut his laptop, knowing full well MI6 would rather he die than what he was working on ending up in the wrong hands. It was only after a brief few seconds that he truly paled, realising the other had been fully aware of him and Bond even before he had spoken. That alone meant he doubted the other was there because of his work but rather because of that knowledge. From the start of them sleeping together regularly Bond had always been worried of the consequences in regards to Q’s safety if anyone ever found out- of course he’d only actually verbalised his fears after a couple of months, fingers running through Q’s messy curls as he considered their little discussion on fears.
“Somehow I sincerely doubt you came here for tea and cupcakes.” Q muttered as he stood, eyes flickering from the gun to his assailant’s bland eyes, instantly noticing how the man was wearing a night shift’s uniform. So he’d worked for them? The idea wasn’t comforting in the slightest. “Seeing how you’re pointing a gun at me and all do I get to know who you are?”
The smile he got in return did nothing to calm him, Q feeling all the more cornered when the man stepped a little closer. “Walk around your desk, no funny business. If I suspect anything, I’ll make sure the first few shots don’t kill you.” Watching the genius he seemed to consider the question. “Who says I’m anyone? My bosses just happened to mention your name along the way and I was curious as to what the fuss was about. Especially when I heard you managed to keep a certain Bond’s attention for so long.” So they knew how long they’d been together? If he survived to actually tell the spy he’d have to mention that a little more gently. There was no reason why they’d wait to strike unless there was a detailed plan going on. “And the name’s… Steve. Steve will do.”
Q nodded at Steve, swallowing nervously when they did end up standing opposite each other without anything between them, Q seeming all the smaller in comparison. Maybe he should have listened to his instincts about not going into work that day. Again he stilled when the gun was lightly rested so the barrel was pressed to his forehead, clashing with hot skin as Q took a nervous breath in, knowing speaking wouldn’t really be wise in that moment.
“There’s a big distraction where your dear Bond is, nobody is coming to help you.” Steve continued, never breaking the little eye contact between them. “And we really need to leave him a message.”
“Ever heard of emails? They’re rather direct and much faster than…”
The gun slammed onto the side of his face before he could say anything else, losing his balance and slamming onto the floor before he even really registered the pain. Pale hands flattened on the floor as he shut his eyes, trying to regain himself enough to push himself to his knees. A hiss left him when fingers knotted around his neck to pull him up, lips now pressed shut.
Having a plan and acting on it was getting and increasingly harder combination for Q.
Steve’s grip tightened further as he sighed. “I see Bond still likes them feisty.” The gun was rested against the side of Q’s head and yet it seemed both of them were focused on what the other was doing. “You see, this is a different type of message. One actions will summarise with much more ease.” A pause no more than a couple of breaths. “Because, little thing, he’s next. We are going to completely and utterly destroy him.”
His face burnt as Q rested the back of his arms on the desk, hoping to anything there was that his plan worked out before the other got bored and simply pulled the trigger. Fingers moved up the wood, knowing Steve would assume it was a simple attempt at tugging away as he gave a gasp for air.
God. Of all the ways to die this really hadn’t been what he was expecting. Not that Q ever thought he would live very long from the moment he joined MI6 but… being strangled (or shot) in his own office seemed a little redundant. Especially for someone who had been so goddamn clever for his entire life. The grip on his neck was cutting, red crescent moons being forced into his skin as the air was intentionally cut off as slowly as the other possibly could.
“Oh you really are his type.” Steve commented again, nails digging harder into the skin and eyes glistening with malice. “Over the years we’ve been watching him and you seem like the vulnerable little being he’d usually only toy with briefly. I mean admit it, you’re clearly nowhere in the league of the last person he actually fell in love with.” Vesper. Of course his killer would mention the person Q knew Bond would leave him in a quarter of a second for. Whilst holding a grudge against someone who was very dead he couldn’t help but envy her a little. After all, it was mostly after her death Bond would try to avoid being open with feelings unless necessary. It was her that always haunted Bond’s mind and Q knew recognise when the spy was thinking about her simply because of the pure sadness that crossed his features.
As if he was longing for someone he would never see again and he was left with second best.
At least in Q’s eyes it often seemed to make sense.
Finally his fingers gripped what he wanted, managing a gasped smirk at the other, trying to maintain the other’s attention a tiny bit longer. Unlike what Bond may think he wasn’t completely defenceless and as he pulled the small pot off his desk and smashed it against the other’s temple he left out a rough cough, lungs desperate for oxygen.
It was only when the gun was out of their reaches that Q’s pounding head decided to spin, fighting back the best he could with what felt like a broken skull. At least he was lucky enough that when he pressed the emergency button under his computer the other was too busy trying to get up to notice. Not for the first time in his life as his wrist was twisted to the point of letting out a gruesome crunch only to be followed by Q’s knee slamming up, past the point of caring if he was playing fair. Instead as his own still working fist hit the other the sound of his desk being knocked over almost beat the pain at being smashed into it.
So much for a quiet night in.
…
Bond should have met Q ten minutes earlier; he knew it without even having to look at his watch. The intruder alarms had gone on and off for a good while, neither Bond nor the nightshift knowing what was triggering the problems. When they finally did stop ringing in a blaze of the red lights flashing at them as if desperately asking for something.
The spy sighed as he frowned at the guards, recognising many of them from different areas. It made sense enough of course, there couldn’t be that many on shift during the night but it did seem like the large majority of the Q branch were standing there- something that didn’t aid his constant worrying about Q’s safety now they basically lived together. Somehow they’d even ended up slowly buying bits of furniture for Q’s flat to make it feel a bit more lived in. Not that Bond had any idea how they had started doing it, instead just having realised one day he rarely went back to his own flat anymore and when he did it was to pick up more clothing that didn’t have blood on it.
It was a nice little routine and no matter how unusual it was for both of them. Bond’s nightmares had slowly begun to fade and rather than wondering around aimlessly he actually stayed throughout the night with the not-so-annoying cuddler of a genius.
Blue eyes moved from the far too many men to the computer that had notified the alarm system that something was wrong, the beeping starting again as he finally noticed with camera views on the screen were suddenly too static to make out clear images. His heart, of course, sank when he realised they were the space outside Q’s office and of course Q’s office.
Noticing was only followed by a shrill alarm starting, this time signalling that the panic button in a different area of MI6 had been triggered. The main guard barely had a chance to state it was Q’s office for Bond to be off, not caring what the impression others would get at his panic to help the quartermaster.
Their opinions really mattered little too him on his list of priorities.
Instead all he could do was grip the gun all the harder as he ran for dear life, easily ahead of anyone else and heart pounding with unrelenting terror. Q wasn’t one to ever activate the alarm without having a serious reason and if somebody had triggered the alarm to ensure few were around the Q branch… well, that meant there was no way to yet tell how long they had been alone with the man Bond still struggled to admit knew anything about fighting. How could he? He weighed less than weights Bond had done when he was eleven and he wasn’t the fighting sort. Q still openly felt too much to ever be able to harm another individual and not feel guilty for weeks. It wasn’t the way the other worked and it was part of why Bond felt as strongly as he did. Q wasn’t part of his work life, he had simply become part of his life in general.
There were thousands of possibilities as to what could have already happened (or even what could have been happening as he ran there) and none were anywhere near attractive. Some crueller side of his mind pointed out if they’d gone home hours earlier back when Q had wanted they probably wouldn’t have been in the situation they were in.
But as usual Q had let Bond get his own way, smiling before going to his office to simply get on with his own work. As usual it didn’t take long for Q to have found fifty ways to improve it and no need to sleep. It was one of the traits the spy still teased Q over, finding it amusing when they were both in bed and Q would simply write formulas he came up with on his arms because of the lack of paper.
Nearing where he needed to be Bond swallowed, nerves briefly flashing before he pushed them down again. He had to detach himself if he was at least going to ensure that he didn’t put Q in further danger. If there was a Q left to put in danger anymore anyway.
Silently he snarled at himself for the thought, knowing not only would it not help him focus it made his heart beat all the faster as if it was beating for both of them. He shifted slightly as he made it to the first body, not pausing to focus on any of the bodies because no human being would ever be able to survive wounds that they had been given, red splatters on the stupidly white walls. At least he now understood the tiles. They must have been to make clean all substances much much easier for the poor cleaners that would have to deal with all the sickly red.
It had been years since blood had really had an effect on Bond yet just the thought that his genius may be in the same awful state made his mouth taste of bile once again.
When had he become such an emotional mess? When it came to Q it seemed next to impossible to lose himself in the persona of 007, instead feeling like James- the partner who would carry Q to bed when the other was so tired he fell asleep doing more work back at their home.
Home. It was odd thinking of a place as home so casually and part of Bond was terrified by it. Even with Vesper it had been a boat not bricks and water. With Vesper there had never been the need for choosing silly things like furniture before. It had been excitement of running away. With Q it was the happiness of having somewhere to stay. Both impossibly important to him and both too precious to be compared. A thousand more fears had surrounded his time with Q and hesitation was only natural to follow how they were.
Stepping over another body he focused on the fully shut door, light only seeping out under it and to the left side.
The silence was briefly interrupted by a rough slamming sound before a horrifically still silence, Bond’s own blood running to ice as he realised all the things it could mean. Soon, when it was clear the only intruders were in Q’s office and that the silence was not going to be broken again, Bond took silent steps towards the room he suddenly feared so much more than usual.
It was almost masochistically amusing how when the area was so very dead it was no more intimidating than when it was buzzing with life. Because at least he understood where he stood with the dead.
Taking a hesitant breath in he kept his walking steady, eyes only on where he was heading and briefly glancing around to ensure the scene really was clear. Getting there too quickly wouldn’t be worth it when he knew all the risks suddenness could cause. Instead he had to ensure he was precisely aware of the consequences of every little action and that he remembered as much of his training as possible. Acting on his instinct to protect Q would be anything but wise.
His free hand moved to the door handle, not for the first time noticing how rare it was for the doors in the building to have something that suddenly seemed so traditional. When a small metallic click left the room he roughly pushed the door open, quickly aiming the gun to the figure standing opposite the one kneeling, finger all to ready on the trigger and heart still just a little too fast as he stood still in his spot, door left open behind him.
Ready to act on his instinct to shoot yet sickened by the sight of the room, desk smashed down with a slight shade of blood to it, broken ceramic on the floor and blood matting Q’s messy locks.
“Really not a good idea.” Q managed out, gun carefully held in his own good hand and aimed at his assailant as the man shifted to turn to look at Bond. Despite looking about fifty times worse than the other did Q still managed to stand almost tall, eyes not yet flickering to Bond. He was a mess, heartbreakingly so. One side of his face was already slightly swollen and red from the impact of the gun, bottom lip split, injured wrist looking sprained at the very least and blood on his temple from wherever the other had hit it. The hand holding the gun shook slightly and his voice contained far too much coldness for it to ever be real. “007, you’re rather late.”
007. The phrase woke Bond up enough to redirect his aim, forcing a smile for the genius whilst being perfectly aware the other would see straight through it. “Sorry dear. I got caught up at work again.”
A small, rough laugh left Steve from his position, sharp eyes always focused on the battered Q. “Dear. You really do come second best, don’t you little Q?” He smirked up at the genius, bathing in the flinch the other couldn’t help but give.
“Clever boy, what’s he talking about?” He tried to sound relaxed about it, using the nickname he knew the other hated in hope of any reaction as he stepped closer to Steve, twisting the gun within his hands before looking at Q again, waiting to see what the other would reply to him.
“N-nothing. He’s just toying with my head.”
Bond didn’t react before roughly slamming it into the back of the man’s head, wanting nothing more than wanting to put a bullet through him too. But there would be time for that later, instead he focused his attention on Q once the man was still on the ground.
“Q, give me the gun now.” He managed, the sight of the bloody other after he’d literally had to fight for his life made even Bond want to cry, gently holding a hand out for the other to give him the gun. “Please. It’s okay now.”
“I… I know it is.” Q gave a small nod, voice raspy from being strangled, turning his head briefly as he put the gun onto what had once been the back of the desk, eyes clearly showing how shaken up he felt. Once the gun was down he looked back at Bond, noticing the other guards rushing to get Steve and as such becoming uncertain what the other would want him to do. They’d agreed on their relationship being secret yet Q wanted nothing more than to be able to move over to the other.
When he looked down Bond finally noticed the marks that would litter his neck for weeks, shoulders sagging further as he walked over, only to pull the genius in for a hug. After all that had happened, the fear and how gentle he had to be to not hurt the other he felt like he was ready to weep in relief. Pressing a kiss to the other’s messy hair he finally spoke again. “I’m sorry. I should have gotten here before.”
“Don’t be stupid James. I can… I can take care of myself.” A weak and slightly bloody smile as Q tilted his head to see the other’s face. “I’m not quite a child anymore.”
“You don’t have to be a child to need comforting.” Another light kiss, this time to Q’s forehead. Remembering the reaction the other had had to what Steve had said he stilled again. “What did he mean when he said you were second best?” Talks about why the man had attacked Q could be had later, gentle fingers rubbing Q’s arm.
“Just… Don’t worry about it. It’ll tell you about it another time.” No, he wouldn’t. And yet he would. That was a tragedy for another day as Q rested his forehead on James’ shoulder. “I’ll tell you later.”
“Of course.” James whispered back, not sure if he should be frightened or proud of how well Q was dealing with everything. “Shall we go home?”
“Please.”
And when Q would be the one waking because of nightmares it was James’ turn to tell him it didn’t make him a coward. He was still one of the bravest men he knew and he was still everything he wanted. Neither pointed out how Q almost looked like he wanted to say something before stopping himself, resting his head on the other and curling like a kitten by his side, adrenaline gone.
It was all the sadder that it was believing Steve’s words about coming second best that had truly made Q feel all the worse rather than it being the fight. All least the physical wounds and worries would heal.
If that night happened to be one of the few times James ever told Q he loved him then Q would certainly remember.