Work Text:
E.T.
James observed the young man sitting in front of him, squirming on the chair in an attempt at burying himself further into the fuzzy blanket he was nestled in: with those tousled curls and big green eyes that looked like emeralds mounted in an ivory mask, carved to bring to life the features of a cherub, the man looked adorable - only, he wasn't a human.
Lord, James wasn't even sure that the person in front of him was actually a male: he had presumed so because the alien had assumed the semblance of a man, when asked whether he could morph into a form easier to interact with - one without tentacles and too many sharp teeth.
Maybe he should have been worrying about the fact that the creature could definitely understand English and that it was more educated about human nature than anyone liked to imagine aliens to be. Or that it could apparently change forms on a whim. Honestly, James knew that the last thing his brain should be focusing on was trying to deduce the creature's gender.
"What's your name?" He asked slowly, just in case the other's grasp on the language wasn't that good.
The alien cocked his - its? their? her? - head to the side as if considering the question before letting out a stream of consonants that all sounded gibberish to James.
"That's... a mouthful" James pointed out rather uselessly.
"You can call me Q" the other said with the poshest accent James had ever heard in his life - keeping a startled laugh from escaping his throat was quite an hard job.
"I'm James" he offered.
Q arched an eyebrow, shrinking in the blanket "Well, that's boring" he observed honestly and stared at the specimen in front of him when he started laughing out aloud, apparently amused by his comment. How odd. He wouldn't have taken it kindly if someone had said that his name was boring: maybe this human was mad? Like the ones in his bearer's stories, designed to scare younglings from wandering in the humans' galaxy: his kind always ended up slaughtered open on sterile slabs of steel after gruesome experiments in those tales.
As surreptitiously as possible with someone's eyes staring at you, Q checked his surroundings for suspicious metal beds and dangerous looking instruments. The room seemed to be clear but well... there always were subterranean chambers of torture in his bearer's tales, weren't there?
The humans were clearly trying to lull him in a false sense of security.
"Are you alright?"
"What?"
"You suddenly went quiet: from what I gathered, you like to talk" James pointed out, leaning back to give the alien some space "You're not in area 51, our style is a bit different from the American one"
Area 51. Q had heard that name often: it never was a good omen in his bearer's stories. He felt the itch to go back to his form - no matter how adorable his kind thought he was, humans apparently found him scary and he was all for scaring them if it would give him the chance to escape from Earth "Are you a mind-reader?"
James frowned when he noticed that Q really was apprehensive, hiding terror under a skin that wasn't his own "No. But you look like a human right now and I'm an expert at reading the silent clues of human bodies" he explained, trying to reassure him "Nobody here wants to hurt you, I promise"
"Can I go home?" Q asked, hoping that the man didn't ask him where home was.
James shook his head "I'm sorry: we can't risk you going back to your planet and telling everyone about us" he answered and felt a stab of pain go through his chest when Q slumped in his chair, the human body he had crafted upon his request melting away to show his true nature in a clear sign that he didn't want to talk anymore.
Q admired James' perseverance: there wasn't a day the man didn't come to visit him and tried to uplift his spirits. After a while, he had even stopped asking him to switch forms and let him be in his skin "You smell like death"
"Good morning to you too, sunshine" James grinned, hand briefly falling down to caress one of those green tentacles: they were surprisingly muscled and not at all slick, despite the fact they greatly reminded James of an octopus arm "Your mood is ever improving, I see"
In the beginning, Q hadn't liked the touch: it had felt too foreign. But James' hands were always warm and gentle and never prodded, even if Q knew that he wanted to. So, he briefly squeezed his hand in greeting - a touch so brief and fleeting that Q could have denied ever doing it if James suddenly pointed it out "It's all on you" Q snarked back but he covertly observed James, making sure that he wasn't too hurt.
To his shame, he had started getting attached to the man and couldn't help worrying whenever James came back from whatever mission he had been given: he always seemed more broken and tired than he was when he had left and it just... tugged at the strings of Q's three hearts.
"I missed you too"
Q bared his pointy teeth at the agent for presuming that he had been missed - which actually was true but James didn't need to have his ego even more inflated than it already was "Can I have more equipment to study?" He asked instead, deciding to ignore the other man.
"Careful, you're going to make an enemy out of the quartermaster if you keep going at this pace: you'll swipe his job from under his old and wrinkly arse" James chuckled as he handed Q his Walther: for some reason, he trusted that curious creature.
"I'm your new quartermaster"
"Are you joking?" James asked in a disbelieving tone, pale blue eyes tiredly studying Q's figure: it had been a while since he had seen the alien's human form but James hadn't forgotten the intensity of those green eyes, now somehow dampened by the thick lenses of the glasses someone had thrust upon his nose "You're digging the Clark Kent gig"
"Please, keep your comics references to yourself" Q huffed, but he was... happy to see James: he had missed him - even mourned him when he had been informed that the agent had been put down by friendly fire.
"You're a closeted nerd: stop denying it"
"I'm not" Q sniffed, pushing the case on James' lap; the man didn't need to know about his ever growing collection of collectible figures and other nerdy paraphernalia that one tended to crave after getting obsessed with a movie or a tv show.
"A gun and a radio: not exactly Christmas"
"From where I come Christmas doesn't exist" Q smirked "Now that I'm in charge, get used to it"