#timetospywrites

It was obvious, really, to a man with Bond’s perception. Late nights, drinks he wouldn’t share, secretive, ridiculously precise diction. Not to mention the pale skin. Of course Q was a vampire.

It didn’t change the fact that  Bond found him irresistible on every conceivable level. But, he supposed, that was part of the package with vampires - preternatural allure.

He still pursued the boffin, still bedded him, still pulled him to his chest as they lay panting after.

And it was then - and only then - that he realized.

“You don’t actually need to breathe, do you?” he peered at Q through the gloom.

“Um, no. Not as such.”

“Why are you, then?”

“It...puts humans at ease, the more I mime the processes of your biology.”

“Don’t.” Bond said, gently. “I want to know you as you are.”

Q went completely still, the only thing that gave him away was the gleam of his eyes as he tracked Bond’s movements. Ever the hunter.

Bond ran his hand over Q’s pale chest, waiting for a twitch of muscle, an involuntary breath, but none came. He blew across Q’s nipple, but it didn’t rise in response.

“No autonomic responses at all?” he pinched said nipple, just to be sure, and Q shifted, slightly, and took a shallow breath.

“Not... zero, precisely. But very diminished.”

“Fascinating.” Bond grinned up at Q as he laid his ear over Q’s silent heart. 

Q chuckled and shook his head. “Most people would say it’s unnerving.”

Chapter 3 is up - which means this fic is complete!

Chapters: 1/3 Fandom: James Bond (Craig movies) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: James Bond/Q, Eve Moneypenny/Loelia Ponsonby Characters: James Bond, Q (James Bond), Eve Moneypenny, Loelia Ponsonby, Original Male Character(s) Additional Tags: Reverse Age Gap, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting Summary:

Bond:

Doesn’t have friends. Maybe has acquaintances. Well, alright, maybe Bill. They do a round of golf every now and again. But he’s not a friend, per se. There are some things even Bill doesn’t have clearance for.

Moneypenny? Bond shakes his head when he thinks of her. It’s a fond smile that tugs at the corner of his mouth. But no. Colleagues. Fond colleagues, but only that. (Moneypenny rolls her eyes. Bond has a curious definition of friends if he only considers her a colleague.)

Mallory is his boss. Friends doesn’t come into it.

And Q is something else all together.

So you see, Bond doesn’t have friends. Couldn’t have friends. He is an island unto himself. It makes it easier to take advantage of them later. It’s their problem if they misconstrued his intentions. He never confirmed the entanglement.  He can’t afford entanglements. He doesn’t know which assets he’s going to have to call into play. 

He pointedly ignores the sideways lurch of his heart and swallows the guilt. He knows this game, knows how to play, was taught by the best... and remembers with perfect clarity what happened the last time he let his heart loose. So he tells himself none of it means anything. 

Q:

Doesn’t have friends. Has many close acquaintances. R and Hildebrand, the main leaders of his staff. Moneypenny. And Bill as well. And half a dozen people he vetted when they started talking on some of the blogs he follows. But he wouldn’t consider any of them friends.

Bond is something else all together. Bond, who tries to be so aloof and detached but plays golf with Bill, has drinks with Moneypenny, calls Mallory for god knows what reason. He calls none of them friends, even though by anyone else’s definition that’s exactly what they are. 

hehehe....

Bond: Competence. He loves it when somebody is at the top of their game - whatever game that might be.  This includes, but is not limited to, shows of intelligence, power, and influence. He particularly enjoys being challenged by his partner’s competence. 

Bond:

It’s all he’s known. Morris, the valiant hound, who saved James from a badger at the age of seven and lost his life in the effort. His parents, ripped from him by a skiing accident when he was twelve. Gregson, Bond’s closest friend in the Navy, drowned when he fell overboard on a routine training exercise. Vesper, Mathis, M. Is it any wonder he keeps everyone at arm’s length? It’s such a slow, creeping thing that it bowls him over before he realizes it’s happened, and by that time it’s far, far too late. He doesn’t know why he let it happen, only that he had been alone for so long and it had been nice to have someone when he was back on British soil. He didn’t want it to mean anything. But, of course, the moment it did--

Bond laid his hand on the cold granite and watched the hard balls of ice accumulate in the crevices of the stone. His cheeks are dry, but only just. 

Q:

He’d loved James from the very first. It had taken time, of course, he knew it would. But eventually, he’d cracked the impenetrable shell the man had put around himself. And it was glorious - the depth and fervor of his affection.

Q coughed, groaned. A fresh wave of blood warmed his hand as he pressed against the wound in his side. He leaned back against the wall and stared up at the dark ceiling above him. James had warned him, time and again, warned him that loving a man like that would kill him. He hadn’t taken it literally. More fool him.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t break your curse,” Q whispered into the darkness. “I’m sorry I wasn’t clever enough. Maybe someday you’ll find that someone. I hope you do.”

Oh my god, I’m so sorry this took so long to finish! I know you’ve been waiting!

And so, without further ado, here is just about the fluffiest thing I’ve written in a really long time.

Bond flung himself around a corner and skidded to a stop, landing hard on his backside in the dust behind the building. He winced. The unforgiving Tunisian sun beat down, a sweltering 40 degrees, and he ran his forearm across his forehead.

Footsteps approached, and Bond crouched, ready to spring away, but they passed without looking down the narrow alley he’d ducked into. Bond relaxed against the wall. With no radio and no weapon, he was on his own to get back to London. But at least he had the thumb drive. Bond didn’t pretend to know what all Q was going to do with the information Bond had collected, but he had collected it, so perhaps the third missing Walther wouldn’t sting so much.

He sat there for a few more minutes, catching his breath, then picked himself up, tugged his cuffs into place, and walked towards the other end of the alleyway. Halfway down, he heard something soft and desperate coming from a cardboard box shoved unceremoniously between two skips.

For a minute, Bond was afraid of what it might be. Of the creature that was calling, with its last breath, for help. Bond steeled himself for whatever was inside, being unable to leave anything helpless that way for long.

He flipped open the box, and deflated. Inside were three scrawny tabby kittens. They weren’t in good shape. They looked up at him with big, anxious eyes, and Bond, grumbling all the while, lifted them into his coat. He couldn’t very well leave them to their fate now that he’d been dramatic about it.

He acquired a bottle of water from a street vendor a few blocks away and ducked into another alley to pour the water into an old takeaway container for the kittens to drink from. If they’d survived in an alley this long, they weren’t going to snub their nose at a makeshift water bowl, unlike the prissy monsters Q considered pets. Bond shuddered just remembering the last time Q had brought the beasties into Q-branch. Repellent.

The kittens purred as they drank, and the next order of business was to find some kind of food. Bond shook his head. He really shouldn’t be wasting time with the cats. He should be finding a plane home. But, as he rose to walk away, the largest of them toddled after him on unsteady legs and meowed at his heels.

“Oh, alright,” Bond said, sighing.

***

Q glanced up as Bond loomed over his worktable, cradling his left arm against his stomach—likely favoring an injury that he was too stubborn to go to Medical about.

“You ought to get that looked at,” Q said, nodding at the arm. Uselessly, he knew, but he felt responsible for his agents’ wellbeing regardless.

“Hm?” Bond frowned, then glanced down at his arm. “Oh, yes. Appointment tomorrow afternoon.”

Q blinked, not quite believing his ears.“Really?” This would truly be a first, and Q had the impulse to write down the date and frame it.

“Of course. I’m not completely irresponsible. Speaking of which, here’s your intel.” Bond pulled a flash drive from his pocket and tossed it at Q. And as Q caught it, he noticed something under Bond’s jacket, above his arm, shift in an impossible way given human anatomy.

“What’s that?”

Just as the words left his mouth, a small furry ear poked out from behind Bond’s lapel, followed by another, and then an entire kitten head was sticking out of Bond’s jacket blinking at Q.

“That’s Mustard,” Bond said, his eyes uncharacteristically soft. Then another head popped up next to Mustard. “This is Pickle.” And a third. “And here’s Horseradish.”

Q stared at the kittens. The kittens stared back. Then Pickle let out the tiniest mew, and Q had to fight to keep himself from smiling.

“You’re taking them to the vet tomorrow,” Q said as everything fell into place. Bond’s arm wasn’t injured, he’d been holding the kittens.

“Yes. What did you think I meant?”

“You’d be insulted if you knew,” Q mumbled, and then, more brightly, he asked, “Who’s going to watch them when you’re away?” Q wasn’t hoping, but he kind of was, that possibly Bond would ask him. It had been so long since Peanut and Jelly had been kittens. While he loved the calm routine of their lives now, he missed the curiosity and rambunctious energy of kittens.

“Well, I’ve been thinking about that,” Bond said, as Horseradish climbed his shirt. Bond plucked the kitten off and perched it on his shoulder. “And I think Bill would like it.” Q tried not to deflate too obviously. “He’s always going on about how much the kids want pets, and having them look after these beasties while I’m away is good practice.”

“Oh, of course.” Q kept his tone neutral, but the disappointment was visceral.

Bond stopped scratching Mustard’s head and peered at Q for a moment, then chuckled.

“Did you think that because you have two of the vainest, most aloof animals I’ve ever laid eyes on that I would let you look after these three?”

“They’re not—”

“Q, you are many things, please don’t add ‘foolishly sentimental’ to that list. You know as well as I do that you spoil those monsters.”

He was right, but Q wasn’t going to let him get away with it.“They are not monsters,” he said primly, and turned away. He fiddled with the flash drive for a bit, then began the preliminary scans of its contents.

Bond merely laughed as he walked back out of the branch, Horseradish still clinging to his shoulder.

Q rolled his eyes. Bond’s...Condiments wouldn’t go too long without being spoiled themselves. And then he got to thinking about the logistics of Bill and family actually caring for these kittens. Q couldn’t wait to hear all about how they’d destroyed the curtains and climbed into the warming cupboard. He’d give it three days, and Bill would be knocking on his door, begging him to take the Condiments off his hands.

Bond: Started out with a pretty good idea of what the difference was between good and evil. And he was solidly on the side of ‘good.’ Or so he thought. Turns out life is a lot more complicated than black and white, and it took tragedy - twice - for him to truly understand what that meant. But the process burnt something inside him, until the blackness made him cold. He told himself that was just how it had to be, that there was no other choice for a man like him, a man who walked in the shadows and inhabited a world in shades of grey.

Q: Has known since birth that the world was not going to be kind to him. That was obvious when he was left on the Vicar’s doorstep when he was only a few days old. Shunted from house to house, everything he owned fit inside a black bin liner. Yes, Q understands that evil isn’t intent. Evil is neglect. And so he refuses to neglect anything. He is deliberate in his choices, in his words, his every gesture. Nothing is forgotten. And when he overlooks the obvious? He wonders for a very long time if he, too, will fall to evil.