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They’d been dancing around this thing between them for a while now, coming close but never quite broaching the subject. James would say something suggestive under the pretense of being sarcastic and Q would counter with something equally sarcastically suggestive. Testing the waters, James had begun adding little touches to their conversations; a graze of fingers as he took things from Q, the brush of arm against arm when they stood beside each other, the gentle resting of his hand on Q’s lower back when he’d look over his shoulder. Q never seemed uncomfortable, never moved away from his touch.
James walked into Q branch and immediately looked to the head of the room for his beloved Quartermaster, only to find that he wasn’t there. “Where’s Q?” he asked one of the workers busy doing something on one of the computers.
“In his office I believe,” the worker replied, barely glancing up at him.
“Hmm, thanks,” he muttered before making his way to Q’s office. The door was slightly ajar. He pushed it open and leaned against the doorframe. Q was tinkering with what appeared to be a handsome old mantle clock and if he was aware of Bond’s presence, he showed no signs of it. James finally knocked twice.
Q looked up over the top of his glasses. “Oh, Bond, I’ve been expecting you,” he said quietly, neatly laying down his tools and sitting up straight.
“Have you?” James asked, corner of his mouth quirking upwards slightly in amusement. “Looks like you’ve been knuckle deep in a clock. Exploding timepieces replacing the pens? A bit cumbersome and not very versatile… but I suppose I could make due.”
“How many times have I told you… we don’t really go in for that sort of thing anymore.” Q leaned back in his chair and gave the clock a loathing look. “No, it’s Mallory’s mother’s heirloom clock. Apparently she was in quite the state about it not working, which of course has Mallory in a state. Complete misuse of my time and talents and yet he has deemed it a priority.”
James entered the office and closed the door behind himself. “So what’s wrong with it?”
Q looked up at Bond, eyebrows raised. “It’s broken.”
James rolled his eyes. “Yes, I gathered as much. Why is it broken?”
“I don’t know; I’m a Quartermaster, not a clocksmith! Which is exactly what I tried to tell M, but he’d have none of it.” Q stood and walked over to collect the equipment he had readied for Bond’s mission. “Says he has complete faith in my capabilities… as if I my capabilities extend to antiquities from the seventeenth century.”
James smiled as he sat on the corner of Q’s desk. “So what will you do?”
“Well, I’ve given it a good try and still have no more of an idea of what I’m doing than I did when I started. So, I’ll sneak it out at lunch to a proper clocksmith and have him put a rush on it, as Mallory should have in the first place.”
“How devilish of you.”
“One thing I learned early on Bond, delegate that which does not best require your attentions.”
James smirked, unable to resist the opportunity to jab at Q’s ego. “Or that which you have no idea how to do.”
Q narrowed his eyes and gave the double-oh agent a warning look. “Mind your tongue Bond or I’ll…”
“Or you’ll what?” James asked, leaning close to the young Quartermaster. “Will you silence me somehow?”
Q didn’t flinch or show any sign of discomfort at the intrusion of his personal space. “I’ll send you into the field with a thumbtack and a package of bubblegum instead of this.” He held up the box that no doubt contained Bond’s Walther PPK.
James reached for the case and opened it, inspecting the gun and radio. “Are you ever going to give me anything more than just a gun and radio? It’s not much to work with.”
“And what more would you like double-oh-seven?” Q asked, crossing his arms.
“Oh, I don’t know… something with a bit of a bang perhaps?”
Q walked back over to his equipment shelf and picked up a grenade he’d been working on. “Here you are,” he said, placing it in Bond’s hand. “Focused grenade, explodes in the direction that you throw it… only in the direction you throw it. Less mindless carnage, more precision attacking.”
James looked at him, slightly annoyed. “One little grenade that has to be directly aimed for maximum impact?”
“You asked for something with a bit of a bang, I gave it to you. If this is all you ask for, then this is all you'll get,” Q replied, barely perceivable smile gracing his lips.
Bond noticed the small smile however and realized that Q was being an arse. Or was he? Something about the way he said it, something about the look in his eyes… they were dancing around the thing between them once again. He considered it for a moment before laying the case and grenade down on Q’s desk. “And what if I asked for a kiss? Would you give it to me?”
Q took a step forward so that he was standing just between James’ knees. He cupped James’ chin, noting that it was still smooth shaven, and pressed his lips to the older man’s. The kiss was light and soft, but promised the possibility for more.
James’ hands quickly found their way to Q’s hips and even after the kiss was over, remained. He grinned when Q pulled away, though not going far, and whispered, “And if I want more than a kiss?”
Q’s hand dropped to James’ shoulder, slid down his chest and stomach before resting on James’ upper thigh. “How much more?”
James pulled the younger man against him and whispered against his ear, “As much as you’ll allow.”
“I shouldn’t allow anything… not here, not at work.”
James kissed along his jaw, feeling more confident that he wasn’t about to be rejected. “But?”
“But I’ve been waiting.” Q kissed him deeply, hands moving to unbutton James’ shirt.
James turned them and pushed things out of the way so that he could lift Q onto the desk.
“No!” Q yelled, twisting around to reach for the clock and grabbing it before it crashed to the floor. He let out a sigh of relief and clutched the clock to his chest. “Mallory would have murdered me if we’d destroyed his mother’s clock.”
James took the clock and set it safely out of reach before lifting Q up on the desk. “Now, where were we?”
Q placed a hand on James’ chest to stop him. “I believe you were about to leave on a mission and I was to take the clock to a proper shop to be fixed.”
James groaned, but didn’t move. “What about ‘but I’ve been waiting’?”
“I’ve waited all this time, I’m capable of waiting a little longer.”
James dropped his forehead to Q’s chest. “I don’t want to wait any longer.”
Q smiled and ran his hands through the older man’s short hair. “I know. But I promise I’ll make it worth your while when you return and Mallory’s clock is far away from here.”
“You’re that afraid that I’m going to destroy the bloody clock?” he asked, pressing kisses to Q’s clothed chest. “I am capable of things other than destruction.”
“Oh, of that I’m quite sure. I just won’t feel comfortable until that bloody clock is gone.”
James sighed heavily. “Fine. But the moment I get back, I’m coming to find you.” He started to push himself away from Q when the younger man grabbed the lapels of his jacket.
“Oh, I’m counting on it,” Q assured him, placing one last kiss on his lips… a taste of things to come.
James growled low in his throat, giving Q one last hungry look before collecting his equipment and begrudgingly heading for the door.
“Oh, and Bond…”
James stopped halfway through the door and turned to look at Q, hoping that he’d changed his mind. “Yes, my dear Quartermaster?”
Q leaned against his desk, hands gripping the edge and smirked. “Bring back the equipment in working order and I’ll show you just how appreciative I can be.”
“What about the grenade? They tend to end up in a million pieces when used.”
“Don’t be smart double-oh-seven.”
“I’ll do my best,” James said with a smirk of his own. As he closed the door he made mental note to, for once, hold on to the equipment for dear life and only use the grenade if absolutely necessary. He wanted everything Q had to offer.