Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

’Twas the night before Christmas, when all through River House,

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse…”

On cue, Alan jumped onto the Quartermaster’s worktop and sauntered over the top of his keyboard. Q gingerly scooped him up and popped him onto the floor again. “Earn your keep, mogster. Go make sure there are no vermin invading our territory,” he mumbled, keeping his eyes trained on the screen.

And while there were no vermin in the vicinity, there was an invasion of another kind heading the Quartermaster’s direction. He wasn’t alone in his workshop for long.

The metal gate clinked and slid slowly open to reveal his nemesis destroyer of equipment and breaker of hearts.

Q rose from the bench and circled round to face the approaching agent.

“Bond? I thought you were done.”

“I was. But I just need one more thing.”

Q folded his arms, a stern expression overcoming his already sharp-edged features. He wasn’t going down that route again.

“No.”

Bond looked mildly irritated, trying to offset it by sliding his hands into his trouser pockets. “I haven’t said what it is yet.”

Q heaved a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I know it’s the car as public transport is beneath you, 007. And the answer is still. No,” Q repeated, squaring his shoulders.

Bond stepped closer, now toe-to-toe.

“I could just take it,” his voice edged with a “deny me?” tone.

“Actually no, you couldn’t,” Q’s face slipping into smug confidence. “Unlike you, I learn from my mistakes.”

He took a step back and settled his bottom against the edge of the desk, opting to ooze a confident relaxed pose. This was his domain, and he’d be damned if he’d let Bond get the better of him on his territory. Again.

“And as the Aston is palm-printed to my hand alone…”

Bond stepped closer bringing them once again toe-to-toe, attempting to intimidate the young boffin.

“Do you even have an inkling of the fate of the last person who denied me, Q?”

Q merely responded by jutting his chin out defiantly. “Oh? Someone actually said no to the dashing and devastating Double O Seven? I feel robbed of the privilege of being your first.”

Bond’s eyes turned dangerously dark. Q frowned, fleetingly considered making a run for it, but stood his ground. What was Bond going to do? Chop off his hand and take the car anyway? Mallory would hunt him down and feed his still-attached balls to a Komodo Dragon. Of that, Q was certain.

Bond, never taking his eyes off Q, pulled out his phone. Seconds of silence transpired before Bond hit send.

Madeleine who had been standing outside VX, waiting patiently. Felt her phone vibrate against her thigh.

JB: “Something’s come up. I’ve called you a cab.”

She sighed but fortunately, having been dealt her fair share of abandonment by dangerous men throughout life, she couldn’t bring herself to be surprised now. She started walking towards the tube station and didn’t look back.

Bond pocketed the phone and turned his attention back to Q.

“Now. Where were we?”

Q shimmied to the left and circled back round the bench to take his seat.

“Well. I believe I was working, and YOU were leaving. Shut the gate on your way out, won’t you? There’s a good chap,” he said, resuming his typing without giving Bond a second glance.

Q was expecting some snarky response thrown back at him, some of the Double O’s usual retort on matters on which he couldn’t resist having the final word.

But it never came. And by the time Q had glanced up over the rim of his glasses, the agent was already strolling towards the gate with his typical swagger.

Q let out a long exhale just as the door slid shut behind the retreating agent, cocooning him from the world. That went far better than expected, he thought to himself, humming to himself while he sunk into his virtual world, permitting the code to take over his brain once more.

But of course, and Q should have known this well by now, far better than expected, was a short-lived state of being when you shared proximity with Commander James Bond.

And once he had set his sights on something he wanted, James Bond always got it. Even if he had to employ some unorthodox methods to do so.

Once in a while though, on very rare occasions, even Bond is surprised when something he wants, becomes more than he bargained for.

It began three days later.

After Bond had lulled Q into a false sense of security that the car was a forgotten bone of contention, he initiated his plan of attack.

“I want the car, and I will get the car.”

“Yes, well, I want world peace and beefcakes in shiny thongs feeding me grapes while giving me a head massage,” Q fired back without even thinking. He glanced at Bond who was obviously giving that mental image some serious consideration. Q buried his head further into the motherboard in front of him and fought off the creeping blush. “However, want doesn’t necessarily get.”

“This is true,” Bond said, leaning a hip against the table, “especially when I find out from Moneypenny, that you made an airtight case with Mallory for ensuring said automobile is exclusively reserved for 009.”

Damn the woman,  Q thought to himself. “The car was always meant for 009, Bond, especially since you insisted on dropping its predecessor in the Tiber,” he muttered, keeping his focus on his work.

Bond ignored him and picked up a screwdriver from the worktop. “So imagine my surprise when I tailed 009 yesterday…”

Q smirked. “He’s a highly trained agent. I’m fairly certain any attempt to stalk him would be less than fruitful.”

“Oh it was. He knew he was been tailed. He went into a coffee shop and returned to Six.”

“I’m sure there’s a point to this fascinating story, Bond. Do get on with it won’t you? I’m busy.”

Bond twirled the tool across his fingers. “Though before I followed 009, imagine my additional surprise to come here beforehand and find you had gone for a late lunch. Something you never do. And a schedule change that coincided with that of 009…”

Q looked up then, his expression neutral. “What exactly is it you’re insinuating, Bond?”

But Bond could spot a lie at twenty paces and he knew he had him on the ropes.

He kept his smile contained under Q’s withering glare.

“I’ll pop by in the morning for my palm coding, shall I? That’ll give you enough time to clear it with Mallory.”

Bond dropped the screwdriver and pushed his hip off the bench edge. He exited the room feeling pretty pleased with himself, Q’s gaze burning into his back.

That sense of self satisfaction, however, would be pretty short-lived.

Chapter Text

“Like what you see, 007?”

“Now that’s what I call Christmas,” Bond whispered with an edge to his voice that made him sound like he was planning on jumping the chassis of the car and shagging it senseless.

Q rolled his eyes. “Let’s get on with it, shall we?” he said curtly. “We want to make sure she fits before I let you loose on the world with her.”

Bond placed his palm on the handle, a sense of satisfaction hitting his gut that he had gotten the better of Q. It was gratifying.

He slid into the driver seat and ran his hands lovingly over the steering wheel. Closing his eyes, he inhaled the scent of new leather, filling his lungs like a man starved.

“Hello Gorgeous,” he rumbled, placing his thumb on the dashboard, igniting the engine allowing her to rumble her reply.

Bond rolled down the window. “Off you go then, Bond. The road awaits. Just try not to knock over any cyclists or little old ladies.”

Q was sporting a tight grin, which should have roused Bond’s suspicions but he was too enthralled by his new toy to notice. He pressed the accelerator gently, her throaty response teasing his enthusiasm before throwing the car into gear and screeching out of the workshop.

“Have fun, 007,” Q singsonged to himself. “I know I will. You massive sodding bellend…”

Bond was clear of the City in less than 20 minutes. MI6 issue licence plates were always a useful advantage.

He was toying with the idea of making a run for Europe when the fuel gauge pinged. “Not even a full tank?” he muttered to himself. “Bloody tightarses,” he grumbled. The next services were only ten miles away so he floored it leaving the other vehicles on the M1 quaking in his wake.

Fuel of another kind was required so Bond, in a moment of desperation, grabbed a wrap and water from the services while there.

He nearly dropped both purchases when he exited the building and his feet carried him to the space where he had parked up the Aston.

Except the space was unoccupied. The car was gone.

He looked around aimlessly, momentarily at a loss what to do. He fished his phone from his trouser pocket and in that moment it vibrated in his hand. He answered.

“Ah 007. Having fun? You know you really shouldn’t use your phone while driving. Anything could happen. There are more idiots on the road than you.”

“Q? The car…”

“Oh of course! You can’t be driving because the Aston is right now on its way back to MI6.”

“Excuse me?”

Q sounded positively gleeful. “You didn’t honestly think I was going to let you saunter off with another car, did you? There are consequences to being an insufferable arse, 007. This is one of them. Enjoy your walk back to London!”

He hung up.

Bond tipped his head back to the sky and contemplated the cost of making the Quartermaster disappear. First, he had to get back to London, but he wouldn’t be walking. He’d need his strength to wring Q’s neck when he got there. He scanned the vehicles, singled out a likely candidate and made a beeline for it.

Fortunately, picking locks and hot-wiring cars were high on his list of useful skills when required.

Both of which he would putting to use when he got back to London. At least for the purposes of breaking into Q’s flat. And maybe hot-wiring his cats.

Chapter Text

Unlike his own residence in London, there was a real sense of the Quartermaster in his home. Much like the ridiculously unflattering cardigans he wore, it looked - and felt - lived in.

Two cats probably added to that sense of homeliness as well. And  though Bond never thought himself much for animals - not since Skyfall anyway - they certainly made him feel welcome, leading him down the hallway and into the kitchen to post themselves expectantly by their bowls. Bond chuckled, recognising that perhaps this was why Q had a way with agents who, like cats, were ruthlessly independent troublemakers with a sense of survival and a demanding nature.

He wandered into the living room and settled himself on the couch, taking in some of the titles on the wall of bookshelves either side of the flat screen television. A wide range of literature - fact and fiction, a few classics but dominated by science and technology of course. There were first editions amongst them and Bond stepped forward to pull one from its place, opening the cover to read an inscription just inside.

It was from Boothroyd, their former Quartermaster, welcoming him to MI6. Bond wondered how close they had been. The new Q had certainly filled Boothroyd’s shoes in the competence department and was making a good hand of meeting Bond head on in the snark department. Bond snapped the book shut and mentally chastised himself, reminding himself that he was here to ruffle Q and remind him that although he was his superior he should treat this particular agent with a little more respect.

He returned to the couch and allowed one of the cats to make themselves comfortable on his lap. He had no idea when Q would be home so he decided to kill some time and reached for the TV remote and turned on the screen. It was set to the DVD player and what Bond saw on the screen was certainly not what he expected.

There was certainly more spring to Q’s step than normal as he bounced up the steps to his front entrance and slipped the key into the lock.

The car was intact, the self-drive and homing technology performing perfectly on its first run. It was just more than an added bonus that Bond had had to make his way home, sixty miles away from London. Double oh so delicious.

He shirked off his coat and shoes and was mildly surprised when Alan and Albert didn’t come to greet him at the door, normally flailing over him when he got home, feigning near death from starvation. He frowned when he saw the faint light spilling from his living room.

“Oh for goodness sake, Albert. Have you been walking over the remote again?”

He flicked on the light and literally let out a high pitched yelp when he saw the body of one 007 draped across his couch.

“JESUS CHRIST, BOND!” he quavered while clutching his chest. “Are you trying to cause MI6 to lose another Quartermaster, you knob?!”

Bond said nothing though. Only looked at him as though he was seeing him for the first time.

It was in that second Q registered what was on the TV screen.

The image of he and Bond frozen in time, sitting side by side in the National Gallery. The CCTV footage of their first meeting he had surreptitiously procured.

“Fuck…” There was literally no denying what was staring them both in the face in full technicolour. But that wasn’t going to stop Q from going into full scale denial.

“Get out of my home, Bond,” he groused, strolling forward with purpose and grabbing the remote to turn off the evidence.

Bond stood to face him, dislodging the cat as he rose. Q could feel his face burning with the humiliation of being discovered. He had worked bloody hard to keep his infatuation with the agent buried, concealed, hidden from even himself, like the best keeper of secrets in the world.

And now he was laid bare. If he didn’t get Bond out soon he’d probably embarrass himself even more by breaking into tears and losing what little self respect he had left.

There was nothing to say, except…

Q slapped him across the face. Bond took the hit and looked at him once more. Q had screwed shut his eyes, whether refusing to meet his gaze or imagine this was all just a horrible dream, Bond wasn’t sure.  “I asked you to leave, Bond. After breaking and entering the sanctity of my home I think it’s the least you can do.”

But there was one thing Bond could do, and something he did very well. He reached forward and pulled Q towards him, burying a hand in his hair to steady him, and kissed him.

Breathing erratically, Q pushed back from the uninvited intrusion and slapped him again. After a brief assessment of the situation and each other, he dived into Bond’s mouth once more, returning the kiss with fevered need. Bond allowed Q to push him back onto the couch, scattering the cats from their perch and taking up residency where Albert had been curled up only moments before.

And that, as they say, was that.

Chapter Text

For what felt like an eternity but could only have been a few minutes, James was fighting every instinct to take control and bury himself in the slender warm angles of his prickly superior officer.

“I’m sorry…” Bond whispered against his mouth.

“Shut the hell Bond and just fuck me. I want you to fuck me until I can’t see,” Q said hoarsely, rolling off his lap to lie on his back and wrestle himself out of his trousers. Bond too, wasted no time to divesting himself of his own clothes, relenting once again to the eager clutch of Q’s long fingers around his wrist, pulling him towards him to cover his body.

Bond rolled his hips down. Q felt his skin burn hot, imagined that this must be what it feels like being too close to the sun.

“How did we get here?” Bond mouthed against his neck. “How could I not see until now…?”

Q kept a hand behind Bond’s neck, Bond a willing accomplice to keeping his lips occupied with the taste and feel of pale, warm skin. His eyes were closed, connecting the moment to the memory, intensifying the sensation of the physical connection with his wayward, beautiful, deadly human weapon. “The day we first met. When you touched my hand. I wanted. God I wanted you more than air. You compromised me, you fucking bastard. My only saving grace was detaching myself from the moment to not lose myself to you and it took every ounce of resolve to keep myself there…”

Bond leaned back and up to enjoy the complete antithesis of his stalwart boffin. Hair a mess, somewhere in the flailing of limbs and lips he’d lost his glasses, face as flushed and hot as the hard, long cock pressed against his belly. It was, in a word, breathtaking.

“Like what you see, 007?” Q said cheekily.

“Now that’s what I call Christmas, New Year and happy sodding birthday to me,” he retorted huskily.

Bond watched the flush spread deliciously to his chest and took it upon himself to chase it with his tongue.

Q squirmed, eager and wanting, opening up more and more with every touch. “I— I watch the footage to remind myself what could have been, another life, another time. Were you not you and I not your Quartermaster.”

“What changed?”

“Nothing.”

That word made Bond falter in his attentions. “Then what are we doing?”

Q gently touched the tips of his fingers against Bond’s jaw. “All I want is one night. One night to know you in my bed…James…”

Bond smiled at the surrender to intimacy at the use of his first name. “Let’s play it by ear shall we? See where it goes.”

“Well, for now it’s going to the bedroom,” said Q, pushing him off and landing the agent with a thud on the floor. He scrambled off the couch and dragged Bond up into his arms, meeting each other kiss for kiss, touch for touch. Q had one hand wrapped around them both and Bond could only follow his lead, walking backwards into the bedroom.

“I wish you were this bloody compliant on mission, Bond.”

“I might be persuaded to adjust my MO in the field if it gets me back in your bed, Q.”

“Steady on, Bond,” Q said, reverting to his superior tone, and falling back playfully onto the mattress. Reaching into the bedside table he retrieved what the night needed and wasted no time putting them - and the agent - to good use. “If I don’t kick you out before breakfast,” he gasped, sliding with care onto the agent.

Bond felt consumed in a way he had never before experienced. Watching the expression of pain warring with pleasure dance across Q’s face contorting into bliss, while he engulfed the agent over and over and over again. Bond’s eyes never left Q’s face, even when he took his cock in his hand, barely touching him before Q’s body surrendered to the intoxicating fire coursing through his blood.

He fell forward, Bond rolling him over and taking him with a few more well aimed thrusts that sent his own pleasure spiralling through his brain. He collapsed next to Q who was so completely sated, he was already slipping into unconsciousness. Bond smiled, as he cleaned them both with the corner of the bedsheets before pulling him against his chest and wrapping himself around him.

Bond was confident he would be staying for breakfast. Then maybe, Q would let him take him for a drive outside the City, give him a proper demonstration of what his beautiful motor and his finest agent could do when they join forces.

With any luck, Q would figure he’d been missing out long enough.

Chapter Text

It had been a long time since Q had woken alone. Alone as in, usually Alan or Albert would be plastered across some part of his semi-quilted person. He cracked open an eye and looked at the space previously occupied by wanker agent extraordinaire James Bond.

“Didn’t even give me the satisfaction of kicking him out of my bed myself,” he muttered quietly, sitting up with a yawn just as Alan sauntered through the ajar bedroom door, licking his lips. Q threw him a suspicious look.

“And what have you been scoffing?” he enquired, throwing back the covers and making a beeline for the kitchen in fear of what carnage he might find, which was surprisingly, nothing.

Except…

There was an empty foil sachet of cat food by the sink.

So either his cats had evolved thumbs overnight, or…

…James “incendiary device” Bond had fed his cats before he left.

Q headed back to the bedroom, deciding he did not want to look at that musing directly so focussed on climbing into the shower to wash away the excesses of last night.

Grabbing a towel from the chair in the corner which he was pretty sure hadn’t been there the night before, he was just exiting the room when his phone pinged.

It was R.

Aston has been released to Bond as per your instruction, Q.

Q could feel his blood pressure start to spike. He was about to reply with “What fucking instruction?” when he noticed the message above, sent from his phone two hours ago, indeed instructing R to release the car.

It took about five seconds for the circumstances of his use and abuse to sink in before he dropped the phone, grabbed his pillow and screamed a muffled “BOND YOU BASTARD!!!!” into it.

He gently replaced the pillow, taking a levelling breath while smoothing it down and continued on his primary mission to take a shower. His secondary mission would involve remote driving the Aston off the edge of a cliff.

With Bond still in it of course…

Twenty Minutes Later

Clean, refreshed and considerably calmer, Q climbed out of the shower and buffed himself dry. He expected his cats to be standing sentry outside the bathroom door as per usual, but his expectations were being largely unmet today. What he was not expecting was the smell of coffee to hit his nostrils.

“What the ever-loving bugger is—“ he began, marching through the living room towards the kitchen.

It took him three seconds - or perhaps an eternity - to process the sight before him.

Croissants, jams and two mugs next to a pot of fresh coffee graced the jutting island in his rarely-used kitchen. Two cats sat on the floor, one scoffing what was left in his bowl, the other looking up adoringly at the focus of his attention making an odd trilling purr sound that a feline might be prone to give a big alpha in a pride of lions. The object of said attention was leaning a hip against the island, one hand in the pocket of perfectly tailored dark trousers, flicking through his phone. The turtleneck he bore, adequately covered the couple of enthusiastic bite marks Q had bestowed upon him last night.

Within that three second timeframe, Q had raised both his hands to bury in his still damp hair, dishevelled as the look of confusion on his face while he tried to process this turn of events.

“Bond?!”

James looked up from his screen and flashed a small smile.

Naturally, his towel chose that moment to slip to the ground from his hips.

Bond’s smile turned into a grin.

“Mmmm,” he hummed, stepping gingerly over the cats, realigning his targeting gear. “I think breakfast can wait…”

Q was rarely thrown off his game, but then, Q was rarely to be found stood naked in his own home while a fully dressed agent unleashed a full-on assault. In a heartbeat, Q found himself face down on his couch, where this entirely inappropriate but fucking glorious interlude had begun in the first place. Before he could even begin to form the questions to which he wanted the answers, Bond had removed his own jumper and was laying a series of hot, breathy kisses down his spine, fingertips lightly massaging Q's arse.

And when Bond's lips finally hit his target, he considered his mission a success, having rendered his Quartermaster speechless.  The blubbering and incoherent mess beneath him just had time to be grateful he had a shower before the pleasure twisting like a vice in his gut unhinged a normally well-oiled rational mind.

Chapter Text

“Dammit, Bond! You’ve made a mess of my couch!”

“Actually, you’ve made a mess of your couch, Q,” replied his breathless bedfellow. “Though I rather enjoyed being the cause of the effect.”

Q remained boneless, face down on the cushions, while Bond vacated his space to fetch a cloth. Q unburied his face to watch the sculpted form strolling out of the room. He groaned quietly to himself, the realisation of how much trouble he was in right now, trouble as inescapable as the gorgeousness of the arse wiggling its way towards the bathroom. He closed his eyes again before Bond returned, chuckling to himself at the scene, which could have been straight out of Greek mural. Q cracked open an eye, to chastise him once more, just as Bond leaned over to place a cool cloth on his backside and slide a towel underneath him.

“OK there, Quartermaster?”

“I was about to say too little, too late,” mumbled Q, reaching a hand towards the crotch of his trousers to unbutton and release Bond’s straining erection. “Certainly not too little…” he continued, running his fingers lightly over hot, taut skin. “But maybe too late,” he said drawing back his hand with a sigh. “I really have to get to work.”

“You really don’t, you know,” said Bond, wrestling Q onto his back and sitting down, slipping his thighs beneath Q’s head. He ran his fingers through silky waves. Q sighed again. It was nice. It was distracting. Q threw him an unconvincing look of stern. “I really do.”

Bond smiled down at him. “You know, you’d be a lot more convincing in your argument if you didn’t have a very large, very hard erection resting against your cheek right now.”

Q laughed then. “Switch off that magnifying effect in your brain, Bond. It’s not THAT big.”

Bond ran his fingers across the high cheekbone, coming to rest on his jaw to tilt his lips closer. Q met his gaze, head on, so to speak. “I called in a favour with your second-in-command when I went to pick up the car.”

“Really…” Q murmured, eyes sparkling with renewed interest, adjusting his body so as to face Bond’s torso more fully.

“Mmmm… You really need to take the car for a test drive. I think it might have a few kinks that require your attention before I take it on its first mission.”

“How very thorough of you, 007. And what mission might that be?”

“I might have made a few arrangements for the day…”

Q leaned in. “Interesting. I suppose there are a few kinks in need of my attention…” Bond tipped his head slowly to rest on the back of the couch and closed his eyes. He wanted what pleasure Q was prepared to lavish upon him to last just a little longer than his first time.

In the life of secret agent, such moments, such encounters were precious and rare. Bond was realising how bloody good it felt to be at the mercy of someone he could trust, implicitly and without question.

For once, the Quartermaster’s lips weren’t barbed in the presence of the agent. And when Bond twisted his hand in thick, bed-tumbled locks and let out a strangled sound of pleasure, he knew while he was lost, he wasn’t alone anymore.

Chapter Text

The bonnet was warm. Warm against his chest.

Though not as warm as the body pressed against his back.

“It's certainly one of your finer modifications,” hot breath whispered against his earlobe, sending a shivering thrill down his back.

“I’ll have you know, Bond, this wasn’t the first use I had in mind for it when I reinforced the hood.”

“And I’ll have you know, Q, I’m very much enjoying putting its resilience through its paces.”

They’d found a small copse of trees just off the beaten track, secluded, private, quiet.

Unlike the moaning line of flesh pinned beneath Bond’s body.

“Since when did you get so loud?” he groaned while pushing his hips forward.

“I find outdoor sex quite liber—liber— ohgodohoh…”

Q was losing it. The feel of one large hand holding his hip, the other trapped in messy locks, gently pulled his head backward. Bond couldn’t take his eyes off his neck, a throat just begging to be kissed, caressed, held by hands that understood exactly how precious its owner was.

Bond watched the closed eyes, the contorted features, the mouth go slack as Q released himself over the bonnet of the car.

He forced himself to slow his movements, pulling out and allowing the man to roll onto his back.

“Damn it all to hell, James, you’re—“ Bond didn’t want to hear it though, silencing him breathless once more with a kiss and repositioning the alignment of their bodies to allow him sink once more inside.

“I do like this new method of testing the Q Branch equipment,” he spoke low against his neck. “Think we can make a regular thing of it?”

Q clenched hard around him just then, taking Bond by surprise, knees buckling slightly with the force of his orgasm.

There was nothing but fondness in Q’s smile when Bond pulled back from his teethed assault on his shoulder in an effort to bite back the sound of pleasure, voiced from the pit of his belly.

“I think that can be arranged, 007,” Q replied. “Next time we’ll have to test the chassis. See if it’s up to my demanding standards…”