#00q fluff

Bond looked at the gun, then back at Q, then put the gun down on the window ledge beside him.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he demanded.

Q ignored the question, looking Bond up and down slowly. Bond realised that while his quartermaster was wearing dark slacks and a fuzzy emerald-green jumper, Bond was bare from the waist up, with only the sheet pooled round him covering the rest. He cleared his throat and adjusted the sheet.

“Did you know that you mutter in your sleep?” Q asked conversationally.

“What?” Bond asked, his brow furrowed. It made no sense, Q shouldn’t be here. Couldn’t be here. Maybe he was still dreaming.

“Are you going hard of hearing in your old age, Bond?”

“What are you doing here?” Bond asked again. “How are you here? Or am I dreaming?”

Q smirked. “Do you often dream of me?”

Bond could just barely hear a child squalling from elsewhere on the train. It didn’t seem like a dream. Q did feature in them occasionally, but this wasn’t any of the typical scenarios.

“Answer the question,” Bond insisted.

“I’m looking out for you.”

Bond frowned. He was a deadly agent in the secret service, and while Q’s aid on missions over the comms could be indispensable, as was his tech, Bond failed to see how he would be needed to keep Bond safe in-person. He rather thought it would be the other way around.

“Come again?” he asked.

“You’ve been out of sorts for weeks, Bond, did you think I hadn’t noticed? You’ve been getting sloppy, in a way that’s unlike you. And those bags under your eyes haven’t been doing you any favours.”

“You haven’t answered my question.”

“I wasn’t sure you were even here on purpose, nor that you could necessarily take care of yourself or protect yourself in your current state. I daresay my concerns weren’t unfounded. I broke into your room quite easily, and have been reading here for over an hour, and you barely twitched.”

There was a lot to unpack there, and Bond wasn’t sure where to start. “You’ve just been sitting there, watching me sleep?”

“Well, I’ve been reading more than watching you, that gets a bit old, really. You haven’t been doing much. Did mutter something about interior decorating.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” Bond muttered sarcastically.

“So,” Q said, “you did seem to be sleeping soundly, and you look a bit better, more colour in your cheeks, bags under your eyes look lighter. Are you feeling better? Have some of your energy back?”

“Why?” Bond asked suspiciously.

“Well,” Q said, “I was just curious. I’m not expected back until Monday.”

It was Thursday. Bond cocked his head. “What about…”

“R has taken over for me for the rest of the week. It was about time I took a bit of time off, really.”

“Wait, why are you telling me this? Why are you here, Q?”

Q tossed his book to the side and sighed. “You know, for all that you seem to seduce women with the wink of an eye, you really can be quite thick.” Q let his eyes drift down Bond’s torso again, ever so slowly, before bringing them back up to meet Bond’s gaze. There was a heat in his eyes that Bond hadn’t seen before, and it lit an answering fire in him.

“Oh really?” Bond purred. “That’s not the only way I’m thick.”

Q barked out a laugh. “Oh, that is truly, astoundingly terrible. How is it possible you’ve bed so many people while out in the field? That can’t possibly work? I think this may have been ill-advised, I’m sure another compartment on this train must contain someone a little less long-in-the-tooth, who won’t torture me with such horrible lines.” Q started to stand, but Bond was quick to snag his wrist and pull him back down and towards him.

“Oh, no. You’re not leaving now,” he growled out. Q grinned, was still grinning when Bond pulled him in tight and kissed him hungrily. Bond’s hands tangled in Q’s curls, and Q rested his hands on Bond’s bare shoulders. His skin was soft, and warm, and Q melted further into him, letting out a groan as Bond nipped at his lower lip.

“What time is it?" Bond asked without pulling away from Q’s mouth.

“About five-thirty in the morning, I believe, another three hours or so before we’re in Inverness.”

“Wonderful,” Bond said as his hands found their way up and under Q’s jumper. “I plan on making full use of them. Now,” he said, letting his lips trail down along Q’s jaw, then down his neck. “I am truly curious to see what you hide under these jumpers and cardigans.”

Q snorted, then gasped as Bond nipped at his throat. “Nothing scandalous,” he said, “but you’re welcome to look for yourself.”

“Oh, I intend on doing just that.” Bond’s hands moved from stroking Q’s sides up towards his shoulders, hooking the bottom of his jumper and pulling it up until Q wriggled out of it. Bond tossed it to the bottom corner of the bed while his mouth travelled along Q’s now-exposed collarbone. Bond quickly divested Q of the cotton undershirt he had on underneath the jumper, which joined its companion on the bed. Q’s breaths were ragged in Bond’s ear. “In fact,” Bond said, “best inspect under everything. Never know what you could be hiding, what you could be planning, sneaking into my room…”

“I rather think you’ve got the idea of what I was planning, but please, be my guest…”

Q managed to kick his shoes off before Bond grasped his shoulders and rolled him onto the bed beside him, then set to work on his trousers.

This was happening. Actually happening. Q had fought himself a bit before ultimately deciding to follow Bond on the train. He’d fancied the agent for a while, but wasn’t certain it was mutual. Wasn’t sure it was a good idea, either. But then, maybe not everything in life had to be a well thought-out, good idea. Maybe sometimes you just had to do what you wanted and let the pieces fall where they may. He had genuinely been concerned for Bond, but he had also thought it might be as good a chance as any to shoot his shot. It seemed that gamble had paid off.

Bond had undone Q’s belt and zipper, but now slowed down, leaving slow kisses along Q’s hip bones as he gently pulled his pants and trousers lower, bit by bit. When Q’s cock finally sprang free, he sucked in a quick breath. Bond gave it a wet kiss before abandoning it to continue pulling Q’s clothing off, and Q groaned. Bond followed Q’s pants and slacks down his legs, trailing kisses along his inner thighs and calves as he went, until he reached Q’s ankles and tossed his clothing into the corner to join the rest, stroking an ankle lightly with his free hand.

Bond gazed up at Q from his spot at his feet. “What do you want?” he murmured.

“Uh-mm,” Q stuttered, clearing his throat. “Anything. Everything.”

Bond looked both inordinately pleased and like he wanted to eat Q alive, and Q could hardly cope. Bond kissed his way back up Q’s legs slowly, then gave his cock a languid lick. Q groaned, pushing back into the pillow. When Bond swallowed him down, Q cursed colourfully, and all coherent thought fled his mind.

When they were both sated, Q curled into Bond’s side and was quickly asleep. Bond followed soon afterward. They woke when the train pulled into the station, dressing quickly and gathering their few belongings before disembarking from the train.

“Well,” Bond said, “If you’ve got a few days, and I haven’t an upcoming mission at the moment, we may as well make use of the fact that we’re here?” He gave Q a questioning look, and Q grinned in answer.

“It would be a waste not to,” Q agreed.

They found a room at a nearby hotel, then spent the day sightseeing, making good use of the large hotel room bed once they were back in the evening. Afterwards, they lay side by side, their breath evening out, until Q snuggled into Bond’s side, resting his head on Bond’s chest, his finger tracing patterns over Bond’s heart. He started to drift off, but shook himself awake.

“Sleep,” Bond murmured. “You must have missed out on most of your night’s sleep last night by following me.”

“Mmm, but it doesn’t seem fair, when you haven’t been able to.”

“I am perfectly content as-is. Sleep,” Bond insisted, while slowly stroking up and down Q’s back. Q was quickly out.

Bond was surprised when he woke the next morning, having slept through the night. When Q woke beside him, Bond smiled down at him.

“Well, I’m going to have to keep you around. You seem to have the magic touch.”

“Oh, really?” Q asked, smiling back sleepily.

“Yes. That’s the first night I’ve slept through in weeks. And I need sleep to be at my best, so really, for the safety of our country and all, you’re going to have to be my bed-partner.”

“Is that how it is?” Q asked, greatly amused and exceedingly pleased.

Bond got that self-assured look of his. “It is.”

Q snorted softly, grinning into Bond’s chest.

“So,” Q said, like he wasn’t sure about what he was about to say, “you grew up in Scotland.”

“Yes. Not much left for me here, now. No family I know, Skyfall was sold and is a pile of rubble. Just Kincade, I suppose, wherever he is.”

“Oh! He’s the one who helped you, when you…” Q trailed off, realising he probably didn’t want to stir up those memories in particular. Bond didn’t seem bothered, however.

“Yes, he was there when M and I went to Skyfall to face off with Silva, and helped set everything up. Took out a good number of Silva’s men, as well.”

Q was watching his face carefully. “You have fond memories of him,” he assessed.

Bond shrugged. “I knew him when I was a child. He taught me to shoot,” he said with a distant smile, like he was picturing those lessons. “I suppose he’s one of the closest things to family that I have left.”

“We could go see him? If you like,” Q rushed to add.

Bond seemed to ponder that. “I’m not even sure how to find him now.”

Q smiled. “Well, you should know by now, I can find just about anyone. I can’t imagine he’s trying to hide, I bet I could find him within five minutes once I’m on my computer. If you like, that is.”

Bond hesitated a minute, before agreeing. “Sure. Yeah. That could be nice.”

Q beamed. “Alright! Once we’re up and have got tea, we’ll look him up.”

They got in contact with Kincade, who was thrilled to hear from Bond, and they set up a lunch date for later that day.

Kincade greeted them happily at the restaurant, pulling Bond in for a hug, which Q watched with great interest, then shook Q’s hand vigorously. They enjoyed lunch, and drinks, Bond explaining that he and Q had needed a few days off from work, as business has been intense lately.

“And what is it you do, again?” Kincade asked, fishing.

“We work at an export company,” Bond said.

“As what, a security guard?” Kincade asked, looking sceptical.

“Sure, something like that,” Bond answered with a smirk. Kincade didn’t look convinced, but he let it go.

When they got up to leave, Kincade smiled warmly at them. “Well, James, it was lovely to see you. I was delighted to hear from you. Don’t be a stranger, now. London isn’t all that far. I’m very glad to have seen you and your fellow.”

“Oh! No. He’s, uh, he’s not my—”

“James Bond!” Kincade admonished. Bond did a quick blink, startled into silence.

“I don’t know what you’re on about, but I’ve seen the way you two have been looking at each other. I think he’d like to be your fellow, and I think you’d like that, too. Smarten up, you’re not getting any damn younger.”

Bond looked slightly affronted and at a loss for words. Q was enormously amused.

“Like I said: don’t be a stranger. I best be seeing you before the next year is up, you hear me?”

“Uh, yes, sir,” Bond said. Kincade hugged him again, then hugged Q, which Q willingly accepted, before bidding them farewell.

Once they were on their own again, Bond turned to Q. “Uh, well, sorry about that?”

“What are you sorry for,” Q asked, still looking amused. “He seems to know what he’s talking about.”

"Would you…like that?”

“To be your fellow?” Q asked, still smiling.

“Something like that.”

“Yeah. I think I would. Would you?”

Bond drew him in tight, his arms wrapping around Q’s waist. “I think I would.”

“Hmm. Lovely.”

They shared a slow, deep kiss.

The trip gained Bond much more than a night’s sleep. He’d found a solution to his sleep troubles, rekindled a relationship and link to his past, and started something new. Something he hoped would last, would only grow, in the time to come.

-

This started with @ruthvsreality & @prismatic-bell in the chat, thanks for letting me run with it! <3

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Q stepped over what was becoming a very familiar tangle of clothing one morning and went to brush his teeth, leaving Bond in his bed - just a few more minutes, the agent mumbled - and found another toothbrush in the cup by his sink, grey and blue plastic with fresh bristles. It didn’t register until he was partway through brushing, when he then paused to stare at it, his own purple toothbrush hanging forgotten in his mouth. He was fairly sure the other one hadn’t been there the night before. He almost went to ask Bond if it was his, but that was ridiculous. It couldn’t be anyone else’s. No-one other than the two of them, and the cats, had been in his place for the past couple of weeks.

Well, he reasoned, this thing between them had become a bit of a recurring thing, and he understood wanting to start the day fresh, so to speak. Dental hygiene is important. He shrugged, and continued brushing his teeth.

The following week a book was left beside his sofa, and stayed there. Their pattern had expanded from just shagging to sometimes include drinks, and sometimes dinner beforehand, and when it was Q’s turn to cook, Bond tended to read for a bit, drink in hand.

A few days after the book, it was a suit in his wardrobe. Q went in for a cardigan, and stopped when he spotted it. He stood there, staring, as if it were a pile of obfuscated code he was trying to puzzle out. When did it get in there, and how? Q hadn’t seen Bond bring it in. It made sense, though, to have one there. Bond occasionally went straight from Q’s to MI6, and it wouldn’t do to show up in anything less than a crisp, clean suit, not for James Bond, 007.

Two weeks later, on a Saturday morning, there was a dressing gown on the hook in the bathroom. Q was on his way out of the bathroom when it caught his eye, and he did a double take and stepped backward to look closer. Dark navy satin, rich and luxurious, and Q could picture just how gorgeous Bond would look in it, the navy offset against his skin and making his bright blue eyes even more vibrant. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. He glared at the robe for a long time, as if it might eventually provide an explanation for itself. He finally walked back into the bedroom, where Bond was still lying face down in the sheets.

“Do you have something you want to tell me, or ask me?” Q asked.

Bond lifted his head slightly to peer at him with one eye. “No?”

Q narrowed his eyes. “You sure?”

Bond lifted his head properly. “I think so? Is everything alright?”

“Yes. Perfectly. I’ll go put on the kettle, then.”

Bond grunted, dropping his head back to the pillows. He appeared in the kitchen around ten minutes later, in the dressing gown and… matching slippers. Q’s hands twitched around his mug of tea.

“Now you’re just having me on, you don’t actually wear those,” Q said.

“What?” Bond asked, as if he didn’t know what Q was referring to. He looked down at himself in confusion, as if he didn’t see the issue.

“You—“ Q started, “The—”  

Bond stared at him, perplexed. Q was sure he was being had, somehow, and yet Bond was doing a very good job of maintaining his air of elegant innocence. Q decided to leave it, for now.

“It’s your turn to make breakfast,” Q said instead. Bond agreed easily, turning to the range after pouring himself some coffee.

-

A few weeks later, they were watching a movie on Friday night when Bond turned to him.

“This sofa is too small,” he stated.

Q turned to him with a raised brow. “Oh?”

“Wouldn’t you like to be able to properly stretch out?” Bond asked. “Or what if I absolutely needed to ravish you, right now.”

“I’m sure you would find a way,” Q replied, amused.

“It’s a bit cramped, is all.”

“Oh, are you losing your touch, 007?” Q teased. “Location or lack of appropriate furniture has never stopped you on missions. Or is it too hard on your old man knees, now?” Q smirked at him.

“Oh, I’ll show you my touch, and what I can still do with these old man knees.” Bond smoothly dropped to his knees in front of Q and the sofa, settling between Q’s own knees to start proving his point. There weren’t any complaints after that, from either of them.

The following morning, however, Bond told Q to get dressed after breakfast, as they were going out.

“Oh? I don’t recall having plans.”

“We made them last night,” Bond asserted. When Q gave him a puzzled look, Bond added “We’re going to shop for a new sofa.”

“I don’t remember agreeing to that,” Q said with a frown.

“Don’t you? I remember you being very enthusiastic.”

Q spluttered and blushed, which delighted Bond as always.

“Come on, get dressed, we can stop by that café you love on the way for a London Fog and a danish,” Bond said.

Q looked like he was trying to be cross, but it wasn’t sticking. “Oh, alright,” he conceded, and headed upstairs.

Inside the furniture store, Q looked around. There were a number of smartly dressed employees, and rather a large number of couples admiring and bickering over furniture. He was hard-pressed to find even one person shopping alone.

“Come on," Bond said, interrupting his musings and grabbing his hand, towing him along further into the store.

Q now stared down at their joined hands. They fit together rather well. He looked again at the other people shopping. Is that what they looked like, to others? Were they just another couple out shopping for furniture together? He didn’t know what to make of it. What had started out as what he assumed was a one night stand had turned into more regular shagging, and he had a feeling it had become slippery, morphing into something more without him quite taking notice.

This wasn’t how things usually went. Generally there was more structure, more discussion. You went on proper dates, had some talk or agreement regarding your relationship. There was a pattern, an order to these things. This hadn’t really followed that order, and Q was at a loss. Bond’s things slowly appearing throughout his house, and not disappearing. Buying a new couch together.

Were they living together?! Was Bond moving in, without Q quite having realised? That was supposed to be a serious discussion, not something that just… happened. Bond had spent more nights than not, as well as some days, at Q’s recently, when he wasn’t on a mission, but Q had reasoned that it was just because Bond hadn’t had many missions recently, and had been bored. But now…

Q stopped, and Bond was jerked back beside him, not wanting to let go of Q’s hand.

“What is this?” Q asked.

“What, this? It appears to be a floor lamp. Do you like it?”

“No! I mean, maybe. I didn’t mean the lamp, Bond!”

“What, then? The side table?”

“You know, I really can’t tell sometimes if you’re having me on, or if you are just genuinely that out of touch.”

Bond frowned at him. “You seem upset. Was that another crack at my age?”

“No!” Q said vehemently, then shrunk down a bit when he realised his voice had been rising and people were starting to stare.

“Could we… go somewhere else, for a bit?”

“But we only just got here, we haven’t even made it to the sofas yet.”

“Please?” Q ground out, looking desperate.

“Alright, alright.” Bond turned back to the door and led them outside. “What’s wrong? Where do you want to go? Are you hungry?”

“No, I’m not—can we just go to the car?”

“Alright,” Bond said hedgingly. He looked concerned now, and led them back to the car, where they both climbed in. “What’s the matter?” he asked.

“What is this?” Q demanded. “What are we doing?”

“Well, I thought we were shopping for a sofa…”

“Stop! Stop that! I know you are in fact very smart, so stop acting like you’re missing the point!”

“Well I guess I am missing the point!” Bond said, starting to sound irritated. “I don’t know what you’re asking me! I thought we were having a very nice weekend, and now you’re upset and shouting at me and I don’t know what’s gone wrong!”

Q sighed, pinching his nose beneath the bridge of his glasses. He took a deep breath then let it out, dropping his hand. “This. Us. What are we, exactly?” Bond continued to look puzzled. “I thought we were just shagging, but it isn’t really looking like that these days, and—”

“Is that all it is to you?” Bond asked, drawing back in his seat.

“Well, no. I don’t know! I thought that’s what it was to you!”

Bond frowned. “Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know, because that’s generally all things are to you? And we never discussed anything to suggest otherwise…”

Now Bond looked hurt, and Q felt a twist of guilt in his gut.

“Maybe I should just take you home, then,” Bond said, and now Q felt dread. The man in front of him was suddenly 007, not the man who graced his bed, or his too-small sofa, who brought him tea and slim volumes of poetry. Bond went to turn the key in the ignition, and Q shot his hand out to stop him.

“Wait!” Q said, a slight edge of desperation to his voice. “I’m sorry. It’s not that I don’t want more, with you, it’s only that… it’s only that I didn’t know… that we were more. That you wanted that. In terms of relationships, this one has been fairly…irregular.”

Bond settled back in his seat. “Is that a problem for you?” he asked, brow furrowed.

“I suppose not,” Q said, “But I wouldn’t mind knowing where things stand. You know, when people are in a relationship, they usually discuss things. Their expectations, their plans, their hopes. So if this is a relationship, maybe we should… try… that.You can’t just— sneakily start moving your things into my house without having a conversation about it.”

Bond gave a slight smirk. “I didn’t hear any complaints at the time.”

“I—I didn’t know what to say! I didn’t know what to make of it.”

“Do you not want me there?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“Well, then?”

“You’re not answering any of my questions!”

“I’m not sure that I’ve heard a clear one,” Bond said, now looking clearly amused. Q frowned at him.

“You’re awful,” Q admonished.

“You like it,” Bond said with a grin, but he then seemed to take pity on Q. “I rather thought we were in a relationship, but if you want to hear me say it, I want to be with you, Q. I don’t really enjoy going back to my flat, because it’s rather empty, and most importantly, it doesn’t have you. Is that all alright with you?”

Q surged forward and kissed him, like he was starving and Bond was the first food he’d seen in days. Bond gripped the back of his neck, matching his intensity. When they came up for air, Bond gave him a sly look.

“That’s a yes, then?”

“To being in a relationship?” Q asked. Bond nodded. “Yes. Wonderful. As for moving in…”

Bond quirked a brow at him. Q gave him a quick peck on the lips.

“I suppose I like the sound of that,” Q said, his lips curling upwards. “If you are, however, you can buy the sofa.” Bond huffed out a laugh. “And, you can start contributing to the mortgage.”

Bond hummed, his thumb stroking the soft skin below Q’s ear. “Seems only fair,” he agreed.

“Well,” Q said, “I suppose that’s settled then.”

“I suppose it is.”

Bond leaned in, pressing a slow, decadent kiss to Q’s lips, deepening it languidly. When he pulled back, Q swayed into the suddenly empty space before righting himself.

“What say we go pick out a sofa, and then we can continue this back at home?” Bond said.

“Hmm?” Q asked, slightly dazed.

“Consider that kiss a promise of what’s to come later. And when the sofa arrives, we’ll break it in together.”

“Sounds delightful.”

“Mmm. That it does.”

They were both in the midst of opening their doors when Q stopped and turned back.

“Wait!”

Bond lifted a brow in question, waiting.

“We just agreed to move in together, and we haven’t even… people usually…”

“Yes, Q?”

“People usually… profess their love, first. Don’t they?”

Bond looked amused again. “I thought you were the expert.” After a pause, he added. “Alright. I love you, Q.”

Q wrinkled his nose. “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”

“I do,” Bond replied plainly.

“Not very romantic,” Q muttered, “saying it only because I pointed it out.”

“Alright,” Bond said amiably, “I take it back.”

“Wha— you can’t! You can’t say it then take it back!”

Bond frowned, but his eyes remained fond. “You’ll have to make up your mind, love.”

Q’s cheeks heated. “You’re doing that on purpose.”

“Doing what?” Bond asked, his face the picture of innocence.

“Oh, never mind, a right arsehole is what you are. Let’s go pick out the bloody sofa.”

Bond smirked. “If you weren’t so easy to rile, it wouldn’t be so fun. It’s not my fault that you’re so cute when you’re flustered.” Q started spluttering, and Bond pressed another kiss to his lips to quiet him. “I do love you,” he murmured against Q’s lips. “I’m sorry if I didn’t do things in the proper order.”

Q leaned his forehead against Bond’s. “I suppose I forgive you, even if you are a bit of a bastard. I—I love you, too,” he ended in a whisper.

When they reentered the furniture store, Bond wrapped his arm around Q, tugging him into his side. He could get used to this, Q thought.

“I think I do like that lamp, after all,” Q said with a smirk. “You can get that, too.”

Bond gave him a fond smile. “Anything you like, love. Anything you like.”

-

Hedgingly is a word now, don't @ me.

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And so, here they were. Q had announced that the date had been a terrible lapse in judgement on his part, but Bond had coaxed and cajoled until Q finally agreed to give him one more chance, on the condition that Q got to choose what they did for said date.

“A cat café,” Bond said, staring at the location that Q had sent to his phone.

“Yes.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I think you’ll find that I am.”

Bond raised his eyebrows and stared at Q.

Q set his hands on his hips. “Did you, or did you not, agree that if we were to attempt another date, I got to pick where we went?”

“I did,” Bond conceded.

“Well I pick Meow Wow Cat Café. Take it or leave it. And please be aware, leave it means you also leave all your flirtations at the door to my branch in the future. And keep your jacket on when inside it.”

Bond’s lips quirked like he was trying to hold back a smile. “Does it?”

“Yes, it does.”

“Alright, alright. Meow Wow Cat Café. Saturday at 3:00.” Bond fought to keep a straight face while repeating the name of the establishment.

“That’s right.”

“Looking forward to it.”

Q shifted his stance. “I’m sure,” he said with narrowed eyes.

-

Bond parked across the street from the given address, then stared out the window. He couldn’t believe he was about to walk into this place, and it wasn’t even necessary for a mission. Well, perhaps it was a mission, of sorts. The personal kind. 

The sign had bubble lettering and cutesy cat faces on either end of it. Bond grimaced. This was for Q, he told himself. He was discovering there were rather a lot of things he would do for Q that he wouldn’t normally do. So, a cat café it was. He watched as Q walked up the sidewalk,  looking very striking in his dark blue anorak, and got out to meet him.

“Ah, Bond, right on time.”

“Of course! I’ve got a very important date.”

“Is that right?” Q asked, his eyes sparkling with warmth.

“It is,” Bond purred. He offered Q his arm, which was accepted, and they entered the door together. Inside they were greeted by an employee wearing a flouncy white apron with eyelet trim around the edges and furry white cat ears on their head.

“Hello, and welcome to Meow Wow Cat Café! We have just a few rules here. Please do not pick up any of our feline residents, let them come to you on their own time. Be kind, be gentle, and have fun!” They held out a tray which contained several sets of fuzzy cat ears in various colours. “And we have these for you to wear, if you so desire.”

“Oh, we do,” Q said. Bond was staring at them in disbelief. Q picked a pair of baby blue ears and reached out to put them on Bond’s head.

“Oh, absolutely not,” Bond said, leaning away.

From Q’s expression, he could have been handing over important tech at MI6.  “If you really mean business with this date, you will wear these.”

The employee glanced between them, looking slightly uncomfortable. “Uh, sir, the ears are not mandatory—”

“Oh, they are,” Q assured them. The employee shut their mouth, and Bond begrudgingly put the blue ears on his head. Q smiled at him. “There! They bring out your eyes so nicely.”

“Hmm.”

Q grinned, then picked a black pair for himself. He felt a bit silly putting them on, but he felt it was a good test for Bond. He hadn’t really believed the man to be all that serious about the date. About having a night of fun, sure, but about properly dating? Q had his doubts. But furry blue cat ears, on the agent that Q saw almost exclusively wearing expensive, tailored suits? It was incongruous, and adorable, and went a ways to show his sincerity. The least Q could do was wear some as well.

They were ushered inside by the employee and shown to a table, where they ordered a cappuccino and a London Fog.

“Will you be alright without a martini?” Q teased.

“I expect the company will make up for the lack of alcohol,” Bond said with a genuine smile. Q blushed and looked away under the pretence of admiring the cats.

“Oh, what a beautiful Persian!” he exclaimed. “They’re so gorgeous, I just couldn’t stand the thought of all that fur round my flat, on my jumpers and all.”

“And that’s how you ended up with your naked gremlins?”

“Call them gremlins one more time…” Q warned.

“Charming, delightful creatures!” Bond said, then startled when a cat leaped onto his lap. “Well, hello,” he said. It was very rotund, and very furry. It was also white, and he was wearing black slacks. He supposed that was on purpose. He was fairly certain that cats did things like this out of spite. Well, nothing for it. He had resigned himself to this before arriving. He pet a hand down its back. “Aren’t you exquisite, hmm?” It started to purr as he scratched behind its ear, and, well, that wasn’t so bad. It was a warm and soothing sensation. He could get used to that. He could also get used to Q looking so relaxed, and the soft smile that was tugging at his ruddy lips.

They enjoyed their drinks, and the attention from various felines. Bond was a great sport, and Q was softening considerably. Anyone wanting to be with Q would have to love cats, and he’d had his doubts about Bond, but they were dissolving quite quickly. He asked Bond what he would say to drinks and appetisers. Bond grinned.

“Are you asking me on a third date, Quartermaster?”

“The first one hardly counted, and this would be more a continuation of today’s date, not a new one entirely,” Q countered.

“Well, drinks and appetisers sounds lovely,” Bond said, smiling warmly.

Bond paid their bill, and they returned the ears: Bond sighed in relief when he took his off. He tried unsuccessfully to wipe the fur from his slacks, and Q muffled a laugh before offering to help. He grabbed a lint brush from a bin by the door and brushed his and then Bond’s slacks off.

Bond froze. He tried valiantly to tell himself that Q was only fixing his clothes, but it was difficult when it involved stroking his legs. He tried to distract himself, listing off favourite gun models in his head. This was made both more important and vastly more difficult by the fact that Q was very close to his crotch. When Q straightened he gave Bond a look like he knew exactly what he had been thinking.

“May I pick the venue?” Bond asked.

“If you promise not to blow it up this time,” Q replied with a cheeky smile.

“That wasn’t my fault!”

“It absolutely was. You blow everything up. I’m right and you know it, don’t fight me on our date, it isn’t winning you any points.”

Bond huffed but conceded. He drove them to a nice tapas bar that was closer to Q’s neighbourhood; not as fancy a place as the restaurant he first took them to, but a step up from the cat café. They enjoyed a few drinks and appetisers, and laughed a lot. Q became very touchy, and Bond’s confidence in the situation grew.

“Will your cats be jealous when they smell other cats on you when you get home?” Bond asked.

“Well, they’ll be curious, for sure. Why? Would you be?”

“I would be wild with jealousy if I smelt another man on you. Cat. Whatever.”

Q smiled. "Would you, now?”

“Yes. Very. I’m sure you wouldn’t like me like that, so best to not let it happen.”

“Oh really?” Q asked, amused.

“Really.”

Q edged closer along the curved bench of the booth. “Wild, you say.”

“Absolutely," Bond murmured. “Unhinged, even.”

“Over me.” Q said, grinning and leaning closer.

“You’ve no idea. You’ve ruined me. Just the sight of a cardigan drives me wild now.”

Q snickered. "That must be quite a problem for you.”

“Like you wouldn’t imagine,” Bond said, rolling his eyes. “Can’t pass a senior citizen on the street now without having impure thoughts of you.”

Q snorted. “That is so inappropriate.”

“Well it’s all your fault,” Bond said with false indignance.

Q was now fully in his personal space. “And what are your thoughts regarding my cardigans?”

“That you look soft and cosy in them, and that I would love nothing more than to peel you out of them,” Bond said heatedly.

“And leave me cold?” Q asked in mock offence.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Bond said, reaching his arm around Q’s shoulders to pull him in close. “I’ll warm you up, I promise.”

“Would you like to come to mine?” Q asked, gazing at Bond from beneath his lashes. “I have a very good bottle of gin, and the makings for pasta. We can pet my cats.”

Bond laughed. “Coming from anyone else, I would take that to be a euphemism.”

Q gave a sly smile. “I wouldn’t rule it out.”

“Well, count me in!”

-

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