Chapter Text
Q had barely eased the old door shut again when he sensed someone behind him. Turning, Q was met by a silhouette wielding a long, crooked pipe, raised threateningly.
“If this is how you greet people, then it’s no wonder I always get more customers than you,” Q stated primly, facing the other young man with arms folded.
The shadows fell back from an angular, expressive face as Q’s sometimes-roommate stepped forward, recognition flashing in hazel eyes. “Fuck, bruv, I wasn’t expecting you back. If your stuff wasn’t still here, I’d have thought you’d found yourself a sugar daddy and run off.” Those same hazel eyes took a slow once-over of Q’s appearance, all of it borrowed save the shoes. Eyebrows rose. “Or maybe you did.”
“I haven’t found a sugar-daddy, Eggsy,” Q rolled his eyes back. He started further into the building, and his companion fell into step easily. The pipe was lowered, although Q knew that Eggsy was far more capable of using it than Q - but then again, when Eggsy couldn’t get enough money whoring, he usually made it up by fighting. “In all honesty, it’s been a rough twenty-four hours.”
“Doesn’t look it,” Eggsy opined, reaching out to pinch the sleeve of Q’s coat (Bond’s coat) between his fingers. When Q elbowed him in return, the more muscular youth’s expression shifted into something more concerned, showing that he’d just been teasing. “What’s been going on?”
Deciding that at least someone needed to know where Q was and why (on the off-chance that James Bond did suddenly become a creepy kidnapper or murderer), Q began detailing all that had happened - from the moment he’d been attacked and knocked unconscious, to now as he prepared to go into hiding.
“Fuuuuck.” Eggsy dragged the word out a bit, giving it the emphasis it deserved. While Q still maintained a lot of the posh language that he’d grown up with, Eggsy spoke a lot more roughly, and his accent was now thick with hidden anger over what had happened. “That’s messed up.”
Q agreed with a nod even as he packed his things into his dusty old backpack. Eggsy started helping, but as he crouched down next to Q, he asked in a quieter tone, “Are you sure staying with this James bloke is a good idea?”
Again, Q nodded, although he chewed the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. “I don’t have a lot of other options, unless I want to go to the police,” he reminded, to which Eggsy pulled a face. Eggsy was also not exactly friendly with the authorities, on account of him being what was referred to as an ‘illegal mage.’ He was capable of magics that were, strictly speaking, not allowed - not without a licence, at least, and considerable government oversight. Unfortunately, since he’d been born with these powers, he couldn’t exactly amputate them, so Eggsy settled for hiding his abilities and avoiding people who might ask questions.
Q kept talking, fishing out a permanent marker and grabbing Eggsy’s hand, “Here, just in case James is dangerous, here’s his address. So if I mysteriously disappear, you know where to start looking for my body.”
“That’s dark, bruv,” Eggsy commented, but only mildly. In their profession, both young men were used to the constant threat of things ending badly for them. It was habit to just joke about it, and then patiently take steps to stay safe - like scribbling out Bond’s address onto the back of Eggsy’ hand. “You have his phone number?”
Q knew that, too, from his time texting Bond’s friend Eve, the Glyphist. He penned it in below the address, and Eggsy smiled a small, vicious smile that said he’d make Bond’s life a living hell if anything happened to Q. It was reassuring, even if Q didn’t think that any sort of vengeance would be necessary. Besides, Eggsy didn’t even have a working phone at present - and sadly, neither did Q, his mobile having been lost in the attack. Still, this gave them an avenue of communication, especially after Q got Eggsy to promise that he’d go to the cheap internet cafe across town - it would be easier to at least leave and check messages to each other there. Message tag was better than isolation.
Putting the cap back on the marker, Q quickly went back to packing up the last of his meagre belongings, Eggsy helping. “Gotta go,” Q puffed, swinging his now-heavy backpack up into place, “Otherwise Bond’s going to barge in here and the two of you will meet in person.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing!” Eggsy protested, putting on a remarkably effective pout. It made Q laugh.
“I already have enough chaos in my life without the two of you getting into a scrap,” Q said with a long-suffering sigh, at which Eggsy scoffed, and in that brief moment, everything in Q’s world felt a little bit more all right. “Stay safe, Eggsy!”
Eggsy gave him a lazy wave, retorting, “That’s my line. You’re the one who’s gotten neck-deep into trouble.”
Trotting off towards the door, Q called back with a bit more dark humor, “No argument there.”
“Hey, Q?”
Q turned back, seeing Eggsy standing a bit awkwardly with hands in pockets, shifting his weight. After a moment, though, the other young man put on a small but real smile, saying with quiet sincerity, “Have a merry Christmas.”
Smiling quietly back, Q gave one last little wave and returned, “You, too,” before turning outside, where James and his warm car was still waiting.
~^~
The car had not been vandalized and James had not left the vehicle to come hunt Q down by the time the boffin got back in. He put his bag down by his feet, saying unnecessarily, “That’s everything.” He fished out a battered case, adding, “Even found my spare set of glasses.” He considered mentioning Eggsy, but closed his mouth, instinctively keeping a few secrets behind his teeth.
“Fantastic,” James greeted the news as he shifted the car into gear. As he began pulling away from the curb, though, he checked, “Are you still okay with the idea of sticking with me for a while?”
Q nodded then shrugged. “Not much choice really.” He slipped the gloves off, but James waved his hand instead of taking them back. The relief that washed down Q’s spine was unexpected as he slipped them back on. “I’m not complaining. While it looks like I’ll be losing a lot of revenue over this, at least I’m getting to stay in a place much nicer than mine - I hope you don’t expect me to pay rent, though,” Q joked. Well, half-joked. He glanced over to see how James would react to the statement, just in case.
Thankfully, Q’s first impressions of the blond-haired mage were correct, and Bond waved aside the idea just as he’d waved aside the gloves. “Wouldn’t dream of it. We’ll just call this my Christmas present to you, hmm?”
“You don’t even know me,” Q scoffed. Secretly, though, he was touched by the sentiment.
“I know that you haven’t tried to shoot me, stab me, hex me, or otherwise make my life miserable,” James said as he moved them back into traffic, “Believe it or not, that puts you above many of the people I associate with.”
Q turned to just stare at James for a moment. Finally, he deadpanned, “That’s an atrociously low bar to set, I hope you know.”
Without looking away from the road, James smirked. “And yet, you’d be surprised how few people surpass it in my line of work.”
The only answer Q could come up with to that was a shake of his head, as he marvelled at just how bad it must be to work as a government mage. No wonder Eggsy stayed so stubbornly under the radar, to avoid getting roped in.
“Hungry?” James asked next.
“I could eat more. Not that the sandwich wasn’t lovely.”
“I think I might be able to find us something more at my flat,” James replied, and Q thought he caught a twinkle in the man’s pale-blue eyes, before James turned his head to scan traffic and take a left turn.
The two of them chatted about idle things for the rest of the drive. While James was pretty close-lipped about some details of his job, he nonetheless had some pretty amusing - even exciting - anecdotes about using his Spelleater abilities against various recalcitrant magic-users. In return, Q found James surprisingly easy to open up to, because even when Q let slip raunchier and raunchier details about his day-job (or, rather, night-job), the other man didn’t seem phased. It was nice to talk to someone who listened and just treated Q like any other human being with a less-than-ideal profession that nonetheless paid enough to keep him fed. Q felt like he could tell James not just the funny stories, but the frustrating ones, too.
By the time they made it back to Bond’s flat, Q was gesticulating as he reiterated one of his more interesting encounters (sometimes people’s kinks just fascinated him). James listened with clear interest, sometimes frowning but usually asking questions instead of laying out judgments. “I’ve been in too many questionable situations to judge other people on what they get up to,” James had already made clear as they’d talked. As Bond opened the door, however, not turning on the lights but nudging Q through the threshold first, the government agent fell quiet. Q caught the way James’ blue eyes flicked forwards into the darkness of the flat, but he also noticed that the man was smiling. Unexpectedly, Q thought he smelled cooked ham.
Suddenly, all of the lights came on. Q jumped right back into James’ belaying arm, and found himself staring at three people who were now shouting, “Merry Christmas!”
Flabbergasted, Q just stared. If James hadn’t been behind him with an arm around his middle, he’d have fallen right over. As it was, he let his bag drop to the floor with a quiet thump.
James kicked the door closed behind them. “Merry Christmas, Q - let me introduce you to everybody,” he said calmly, as if this were all totally natural… or as if this had not been a surprise to him at all.
A familiar face immediately approached: Eve. “James might have mentioned that the two of you weren’t getting a proper Christmas, so we’re fixing that.” She extended a slim hand. “I wouldn’t call last night a proper introduction, though, so let’s try it again: I’m Eve.”
Q managed to kick himself into motion enough to step shakily out of Bond’s personal space, enough so that he could shake Eve’s hand. For all that the bone-structure looked delicate, she had a firm grip, and calluses, he noticed for the first time. “I… It’s nice to meet you. Again?” he stumbled his way through a polite response.
Clearly, Eve was an extrovert once she’d gotten a bit of sleep, as she introduced the other two strangers in the room - an unassuming middle-aged man named Bill Tanner, and a younger woman with heavy eyeliner and piercings but a kindly smile who seemed to just go by ‘R.’ They immediately bonded a bit over their single-letter titles. No one mentioned what Q did for a living, and the worst looks Q got was just one awkward stare from Tanner - but then the older man spoke up and said, “I cooked ham. Well, it was pre-cooked and I heated it up, but there’s food.” It was said with such indearing sincerity that suddenly Q couldn’t have been bothered even if Tanner had up and called him a slut right then. At the mention of food, everyone got excited, and soon ham and potatoes and gravy were being dished out in James’ little kitchen. The table didn’t have enough chairs, so R ended up perching on the counter to eat, and Eve shamelessly dragged over a seat from the living room - clearly, she was fairly at home in Bond’s house, because he didn’t even bat an eye at the hostile takeover. Q couldn’t remember the last time that he’d had a proper Christmas meal with such relaxed people.
No one exchanged gifts, but it still felt like they were. Tanner had brought all of the food and prepared it, after all, which was already a gift in anyone’s books. When Q took off James’ gloves with a blush so that he could eat (James assuring Q that his Spelleater powers were on, so that the gloves wouldn’t be necessary to keep Q in human form), Eve came up and put a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t have all of the supplies yet because it’s Christmas and you can’t get anything today,” she said, rolling expressive brown eyes, “but I’ve already started making you a set of gloves like Bond’s - but fingerless. I honestly think you need them more than he does.”
“Says the woman who makes a face whenever she’s stuck dealing with my aura,” James called out from across the room. Somehow, he’d heard them.
Eve was quick to snap back, “Hey, do you see me making a face now? Your power is all over this house, but I am not complaining.”
Everyone snickered because it sounded a bit like she was. Nonetheless, it seemed that these people were pretty at ease around James’ particular, rare abilities, which in turn relaxed Q a bit more.
Over supper, R’s gift became known, in the form of a lively conversation with Q. Out of the blue, she started talking about one of his ideas - a techno-athame. When Q expressed surprise, R let slip that James had told her about it, and then immediately dove back into how interested she was in seeing Q’s design come to fruition. It wasn’t often that Q got his ego stroked these days, but now he felt like the absolute center of attention in the best way as R veritably gushed over his ideas. She even had a picture of his napkin-drawn design on her phone, and Q would have gone to find his original design, except Eve reminded the two of them that they had to eat before the food got cold. The banter continued between bites of delicious food, but Q also spared a few moments to glance over at Bond. The man looked content to be in the background, eating and smiling and making the occasional comment, sometimes just talking to Tanner when the other three got absorbed in technical-magical talk about glyphs or athames. But the fact remained that no one but Bond could have talked to R - seemingly the perfect person to help Q’s ideas become something real - and Q began to strongly suspect that this entire evening had been Bond’s plan.
Eventually food led to alcohol, and instead of the usual anxiety Q felt when faced with the prospect of getting drunk around others (in his line of work, alcohol was never a good idea), he felt strangely freed. It helped that no one seemed hell-bent on getting wildly drunk, and Q found himself realizing, ‘This is how social drinking is supposed to work,’ while also realizing that he’d never really had that. His parents had had a low opinion on alcohol as well as magic and many other things. Q decided that he liked it.
Or, at least, he liked sitting in the living room with R, Tanner, and Moneypenny, with James lounging directly to his left and all of them recounting various past stories. It didn’t even matter that the others had a shared history that Q didn’t factor into. All it took for Q to be included again would be for James to unexpectedly ask Q about some project he’d talked about earlier, and suddenly the boffin had something to contribute - and sure, not everyone was able to keep up, but R was clearly fascinated and the others were good listeners. James in particular seemed content to just sit back, an arm slung over the sofa behind Q, a small, amused smile on his face as he watched the exchange.
Eventually, everyone went home, Q somehow getting a hug from each of them - even a very awkward one from Tanner, who said that he’d come back for his pans and stuff in the morning. They all called a cab.
Once the flat was quiet again, Q, feeling warm in a way that he didn’t think had anything to do with the alcohol, turned to find James. The man had already retreated to the kitchen sink - he’d promised to clean up, since Tanner had been gracious enough to cook.
“You set all of this up, didn’t you?” Q asked quietly.
James turned his head enough to look at Q briefly out of the corner of one eye, then went back to filling the sink and adding dish-soap. “I may have made a few calls, and Eve is always lamenting that I don’t celebrate holidays properly.”
“No but, I mean…” Q struggled with how to grasp all of this, and form it into words. He stepped forward until he was at James’ elbow. When the man turned to look at Q with a raised eyebrow, Q wet his lips and tried again, “Not just calling people over, but… R and I have plans now to build my invention.”
“Yes,” James said, eyebrow still raised as if Q were stating the obvious. Which Q was. But that just meant James was being purposefully dense and refusing to read between the lines, into all that this meant to Q.
So the boffin went on, leaning a bit closer to try and get his point across, “And Eve is already following through on those cold-iron gloves you mentioned to her - despite the fact that I know they’re not easy or pleasant for her to make.”
“Moneypenny is a very giving person, once you get on her good side.”
“James!” Q snapped, cutting off any more deft diversions. James stopped cleaning off a plate to look at him. “James, it’s not that your friends came over and… and cooked, and promised to give me things. It’s that…” Q dragged a hand back through his hair, feeling a hot wetness against his lashes. “It’s that your friends came over and became my friends. That means a lot to me. You have no idea.”
The carefully careless demeanor that James had been maintaining finally slipped, and something warm and understanding morphed his expression in subtle ways. His eyes softened, his smile became smaller while simultaneously more real. “It’s the least you deserve,” James said with gentle sincerity, “I mean, it’s Christmas, after all.”
“I think that this is the best gift that anyone has ever given me.”
James, the man who had listened to Q talk about sex multiple times today without blushing, turned his head now, ducking back towards the dishes as if they needed his utmost attention. Because Q wasn’t having any of that, he got the blond-haired man’s attention again by asking, “So, do I get a Christmas hug from you, too?”
Blue eyes snapped back to Q in surprise, and then James coughed on a small laugh. This time his smile was happy and amused. He lifted his hands from the water, saying, “Well, I’m covered in soapy water…”
“Good thing I’m wearing your clothes then,” Q said with an arch little lift of his head, and with that, he stepped forward, refusing to admit that he held his breath with every step. He felt anxiety grip his throat as he moved determinedly into James’ personal space… and then felt all of that tension leave him in a woosh of breath as James obliged and wrapped muscular (and sudsy) arms around his back. Impromptu as it was, this was also one of the best hugs that Q could remember, too. Or perhaps he just hadn’t had very many hugs at all in a very long time.
And James didn’t rush to let him go either. The two just stood there, Q’s arms coming up to encircle James’ chest, and James letting one arm cinch Q’s waist while the other idly rubbed between Q’s shoulder-blades. “I know that this all began with something terrible,” James murmured, his voice a gentle, rumbling thunder against Q’s body, “but merry Christmas, Q.”
The two stood there for a long time - until Q felt certain that whatever was to come, he’d be able to handle it now that he’d made a friend.