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Q wrung his hands anxiously, teeth gnawing at his lower lip. It was a bad habit, biting his lip, but he couldn’t help it when he was nervous. And he really did have reason to be nervous. Well, excited to the point of nearly crippling nervousness, actually. Today he’d finally get to meet his boyfriend of three years.
For the first time ever.
Up until now he hadn’t given much thought to meeting James in person. Their long-distance, and almost strictly text, relationship had been fine. It filled Q’s need for a human, emotional attachment, and gave James someone to vent to about his life in the Navy.
By nature, Q was a shy person. He’d grown up home-schooled, both due to his high intellect — which prompted a great degree of bullying — and a tendency to catch chest colds. He’d never grown out of his socially awkward stage, and instead kept most of his relationships simple and distant.
He liked distant. Distant meant he didn’t get hurt; meant he wasn’t crippled when his friends forgot him and moved on to better things. Distant meant no expectations and, therefore, no regrets.
But there had been too much distance between he and James. His safe zone had quickly become too small and empty in the months after the start of their correspondence. With each piece of mail, Q found himself wanting more from his penpal.
They’d met when the school Q worked at decided to organize a letter drive to bombard deployed soldiers with fanmail to lighten their spirits while away from home. Q had been all but forced to pen the short letter, but three years later he couldn’t have been more thankful. He’d expected to get nothing in return. If he did receive a response Q expected it to be quick and uninteresting — though he secretly wondered how his badly drawn penguin had been received. The reply wasn’t at all awkwardly worded. The author was obviously well read and educated, with a sharp, dry wit lining each syllable of each word.
At every read through — and there were many — Q found himself grinning and laughing at James’ dry commentary and subtle entendres. The man was a master of the English language. At least when it came to compliments and seduction.
With some effort, the man managed to disentangle his hands and dropped them to his sides where they promptly took up fiddling with the hem of his hoodie. He’d overslept and the newly purchased outfit he’d intended to wear for their first meeting remained in its packaging. Q had thrown on the first clothes he could find, after a hurried shower and a quick sniff test, and just barely made it to the airport terminal before James’ posted arrival time.
His dark skinny jeans, battered red converse high tops, pale blue-grey hoodie, and well-worn white t-shirt would have been fine any other day. Just...not for a meeting this important. It was the equivalent of having tea with the Queen in one’s skivvies, if Q were to try and describe the anxious feeling in his chest. Okay, so maybe that wasn’t the best explanation, but he didn’t much care.
The brunet twitched his nose and absently shoved his glasses back up by the bridge. He watched as James' flight — incoming from Rome, Italy — flashed on the screen. He would be through any minute now, Q was sure of it. His breath picked up and he could feel his cheeks flushing with blood.
“You all right?”
Q squeaked and jumped, jerkily spinning to face the redheaded man who’d spoken. He was dressed like a twenty-something, but looked more to be in his mid-thirties. His grin was cocky, and Q immediately felt uncomfortable at the attention he and his two friends were sending Q’s way.
“A-ah, yes, yes. I’m fine, thank you.” Q coughed and tugged at his hoodie’s hem again, cheeks growing somehow hotter.
“You sure ‘bout that? You’re lookin’ about ready to fall over, mate.” Q supposed the widening of the man’s grin was meant to be reassuring. It wasn’t. “Who’re ya waitin’ fer? Brother? Yer dad? I’m waitin for me brother myself. He’s coming in from his second deployment.”
Q nodded absently and glanced back at the opening row of doors and the brightly lit screens over them. “No, not exactly.” His lip throbbed as he began to gnaw at it again. “I’m, ah, I’m waiting for my boyfriend, actually.”
The stranger’s loud sound of disgust startled Q and he glanced back over to find all three men glaring at him. He realized, belatedly, that he was likely little more than half the weight of the smallest of them and lacked the mean intent that filled their gazes. The boffin swallowed thickly and bunched the fabric of his hoodie into two fists to keep his hands from shaking.
“So yer a bloody poof then, eh?” The redhead hawked and spat on the ground by Q’s foot, voice rising over the murmur of the crowd. The brunet jumped back slightly, eyes wide. “Bet you’re one of those freaks who gets his jollies by throwing yourself at good honest military men. You should be ashamed.” He stepped close and shoved Q back. Q barely caught his balance in time and stayed standing, shoulders hunched, arms wrapped around his belly and chest. The stranger took another step forward, his friends following right behind him. He reached out with hooked fingers, ready to take Q apart, and grasped the collar of the other man’s hoodie.
“I may have just come back from one war, but I’m more than willing to begin another. Hands. Off.”
Q’s assailant jerked back at the snarled words, and turned to stare wide-eyed at the speaker. Q took a step back, head of curls snapping back and forth between the two. Q swallowed and clenched his hands in the collar of his hoodie, drawing it close around his neck and tight across his hunched shoulders. Things were getting complicated here, and he hadn’t been at all prepared to begin with!
The growled warning had come from a tall man to Q’s right, dressed in an officer’s uniform and backed by several men and women in military fatigues. He was broad shouldered and barrel chested where Q was nothing but bone and barely-there muscle. There was a fire in the man’s blue eyes, lighting them from within and burning with ferocity. His brows and temples were a pale yellow-blond made even paler against the soldier’s tan skin. Q suspected that even without the sharp black dress uniform and hat that this man would be breathtaking to look at.
The stranger straightened, squaring his shoulders and glaring. "What does it matter to you?”
The officer took one step forward, then another, each measured and heavy and stated exactly how little patience he had for this discussion. He stalked forward until his medal clad chest nearly brushed the other’s, smoothly taking a step to the side and placing himself between Q and his attacker. “It matters to me because I didn’t risk my life to come back to this shit. Take your bigotry and your temper the hell away from here before I escort you.” The blond leant in close, breath fanning across the other man’s reddish face, “And I can assure you that I won’t be taking you to the pub, understand?”
The other bristled and opened his mouth to reply only to gag. He was wrenched backwards, nearly falling off his feet. One of the officer’s soldiers stood behind the sputtering man, large hand clamped around the back of his flushed neck. His expression was part fury part embarrassment.
“I apologize for my brother; he’s a knobhead and refuses to grow up. If it’s alright with you I’ll take over disciplinary action, sir.” The grin that then split his face was nearly terrifying, “I believe our mum would waste no time in washing his mouth out. Permission to carry on, sir?”
The officer chuckled darkly and nodded, watching as the soldier dragged his brother away. The other two men in his posse followed looking adequately ashamed. At a nod from the officer the majority of the military crowd dispersed; reuniting with family members or heading out to catch a cab.
Q found himself looking up into eyes that could have passed for the blue of a cloudless sky as his rescuer turned. The wry grin softened into something gentle and the creases at the corner of his eyes became more pronounced. “I apologize for that; both his rudeness and my own interference. It...it’s something that strikes me personally and I couldn’t help but intervene.”
Q ducked his head and shook it, curls flying every which way. He brought his head back up and grinned at the blue eyed man, one finger shoving his glasses up again by the bridge. “No, no, it’s fine, really! Thank you for that, I…” He flushed and looked away again, suddenly uncertain. The brunet’s slim hands clutched the collar of his hoodie again and he began to chew his lower lip. “I’m ashamed to admit that I likely would have just stood there and taken whatever he threw at me...I don’t like conflict much and, heh,” he opened one hand to indicate his own form self-deprecatingly, “I’m not exactly built for it either.”
“Build doesn’t really matter in this, you’re human and deserve respect for at least that.” A large, warm hand settled on Q’s shoulder and he jumped. Eyes wide and head swinging around to face the officer, Q blinked, surprised. “Now, don’t take this the wrong way but should I stay until you find whomever you’re looking for?” Q blinked owlishly from behind his glasses. The officer’s smile faltered a little, “I, I do assume that you’re waiting for someone from the same flight I arrived on, correct?” Q nodded dumbly, not quite comprehending. “Ah...I don’t want you to be, err,” he grimaced and shrugged apologetically, words failing him. “To be...uncomfortable, waiting here alone.”
Q started slightly, mouth forming a tiny ‘o’ as understanding barrelled through his brain. “Oh! Oh!” His mouth continued to work as a blush stole over his cheeks. “I’m sorry, I’m obviously not too bright today.” He grinned sheepishly and the man mimicked him. “I’ll be fine, honest!” The blond raised one brow as if to give the shorter man one last opportunity to change his mind. Q didn’t, and instead continued chattering, his nervousness unsealing his lips. “I’ll be alright; you’ve already taken care of those berks and it shouldn’t be too long now. I mean, unless he’s held up in customs or he fell asleep on the plane, or, or - “ Q’s teeth clicked as he snapped his mouth shut, blushing furiously.
The blond laughed lightly, eyes dancing in mirth. “Fair enough. I know a few who barely made it off the plane they were so exhausted.” He stepped back a bit, though Q hadn’t minded the closeness.
The bigger man exuded a kind of steady warmth and security that made the brunet want to curl up nearby and have a nap. Platonically. Because, obviously, he was already in a committed, loving relationship and now he was trying to convince his own mind that he was not in fact harbouring affections for this stranger. Q just about smacked himself in the face he was so embarrassed.
“I’ll be honest, I’m waiting for someone myself.”
“Oh?” Q tilted his head to the side, fringe falling to obscure one vibrant eye, “Who?”
The officer grinned at Q, “My boyfriend, actually.” Q’s mouth formed into another small ‘o’ as understanding swept over him. “Mhm, and now you know why I reacted the way I did.” Q’s shy nod and tiny smile were his reply. “I don’t want to abandon you, but I’m worried he may have gotten lost on the way here; he’s incredibly smart, but painfully directionally challenged.”
Q snorted, “Oh I understand that entirely. If I hadn’t had a crowd of people to follow I would have been completely lost finding these gates.” He smiled softly, “Go on then, I bet you he’s either in or near tears by this point,” he turned to eye the doors now being closed by attendants, “I know I am…”
“Are you sure…?”
Q nodded.
“Alright then. Be safe and I hope he comes out soon.” With an awkward wave Q shooed the officer on. The man walked back to his duffel, slung it over one shoulder and strode away, only looking back once.
-----------------
Q waited for nearly two more hours in the hope that James had just been held up somewhere. It was foolish, but he wasn’t exactly thinking clearly. He must have fallen asleep at some point, sprawled awkwardly across what were likely the world’s most uncomfortable plastic chairs. Dejected and fighting back tears the boffin shuffled from the terminal to the bus station out front of the airport.
He and another man were the only occupants of the glass enclosed shelter. It may have been summer but the evenings in England were still wet and chilly. Q shivered from within his hoodie and drew it close, arms wrapping around his chest. He sniffled and absently rubbed at one eye to usher away the beginnings of tears before wrapping the arm back around his torso.
“Seems we had the same kind of luck then.” Q jumped and squeaked, nearly flailing off the bench. He righted himself and smiled sheepishly at the other man. The officer smiled back apologetically, “Didn’t mean to startle you.”
Q shook his head, “It’s alright, no harm done. But...yeah…” he ducked his head and stared at his fingers, “He never showed…” The brunet clenched his teeth and again fought back tears. He shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up. Maybe James had been stringing him along. Maybe Q was just a temporary distraction until he got back home. Hell, for all Q knew, James had a girlfriend, was married - maybe he even had kids! A shiver wracked the slim man’s frame; partly from cold though mostly from repressed sobs.
A warm weight settled across Q’s shoulders and he jumped, head whipping up to stare at his companion. The officer had retained his hat but was now without his black jacket. Q glanced down at his right shoulder, noting the glint of medals and braided cords marking the man’s rank. He hadn’t looked too closely before, but now the brunet tucked his arms into the sleeves, blushing, and raised one arm to eye the insignia.
“Thank you...but aren’t you cold?”
“Surprisingly, no. I may have been away for a few years but I have missed London.”
Q scowled, “I can’t imagine anyone truly misses this dreary weather.”
“After nearly four years in the Caribbean, I can say for certain that I’m due for a dose of London weather.” He chuckled and Q found himself smiling back.
“Did you get a hold of him at least? Obviously I had no luck, otherwise I wouldn’t look so miserable.” He didn’t add that his misery was compounded by his traitorous thoughts against James’ character. His lover hadn’t given Q any reason to doubt him, the lack of appearance aside. Maybe he deserved better...maybe Q was too immature for the older man and this was some kind of great cosmic signal… He shook his head slightly to brush the thoughts away; he’d deal with his self-doubt another time, preferably when he and James had a chance to talk and clear things up.
“Mm, no, sadly not. I have his mobile number but he never answered. I think I filled his voicemail inbox, too.”
“See, I don’t even have the luxury of a phone; mine’s at home somewhere under a pile of laundry...or the cat…” He snorted, “I had everything planned out, too. I bought new clothes to try and impress him on our first meeting and I slept through my alarm. I barely had enough time to shower or put on pants, let alone that stupidly complicated outfit!” The tips of Q’s fingers stroked over the smatter of stubble along his jaw, “I wanted to shave, too.” He heaved a sigh, “Nothing worked out the way I’d hoped or planned.”
“I think you look fine, so don’t worry about it.” The blond adjusted his cap and rolled his shoulders. “I can’t tell you how bloody uncomfortable this uniform is though, ugh.” He tugged at his black tie, loosening it a touch but not pulling the knot free. “I didn’t have to buy anything new, but I’m not required to wear this often. I thought…I thought it would be a nice touch maybe…”
Q’s hand settled on the blond’s where it sat atop the officer’s thigh and squeezed. “If it makes you feel any better, I think you look quite handsome; I think your lover would have appreciated the effort. I think I might be a little jealous of him.” The joke was weak but it made them both smile. Q shivered and tugged the uniform jacket closer around his slim frame.
Rather than moving his hand, the blond scooched closer until their thighs nearly touched, leaning in to touch shoulders and share a bit of warmth with the younger man. They sat in companionable silence for a while, waiting for a bus that seemed to be in no rush to get there. More than once Q yawned and found himself listing to one side. His head impacted the officer’s shoulder and he shot upright, blushing furiously.
“If you’re tired, go ahead. I slept a bit on the plane so I’ll be fine for a few more hours.”
Still flushing the brunet shook his head, “Ah, it’s alright, sorry…” He sighed and removed his glasses to rub at his eyes. “I’ve been too excited to sleep for nearly a month. That plus work has left me a zombie for the most part.” He blinked a few times and looked over at the blond, glasses still held by the tips of his fingers. “Odd question, but do you have a picture?”
“Hmm?” He cocked his head to the side, one brow raised under the brim of his hat.
“Of your lover, do you have a photo?”
“Oh! Ah, here…” Shifting on the bench to raise one hip the man dug a battered cell phone from his pocket and unlocked the screen. He noticed Q’s expression and laughed, “I’m not the greatest with technology and this may have gotten a bit battered during my deployment. Everytime I mention dropping it or chipping another piece off I imagine my boyfriend making that same face. He’s a bit of a technophile.”
Q swatted at him playfully for the remark. “Hey now, nothing wrong with that!”
“I never said there was! Hold on though, I think I have a picture here.”
As the man scrolled through a surprisingly populated photo gallery Q rubbed at the lenses of his glasses and slid them back onto his nose. He leant in closer and squinted at the screen. Small squares with vague, brightly coloured images scrolled by. The officer eventually stopped at a folder near the bottom and opened it, revealing several grainy, blurry images, not yet selecting any of the photos for viewing. He gave Q a sheepish grin, “He was too shy to send me a photo; said something about being too pale and skinny to take a decent picture.” The two men chuckled. “I wouldn’t have cared; I don’t care. I just want to see him.” The blond’s smile faded and one thumb caressed the case of the phone, eyes locked onto the blurry face. “I…heh…”
Q frowned and nudged him with a shoulder. “What? Go ahead and tell me, I have nothing better to do and you’ve piqued my interest.”
Pale blue darted over to glance at Q, to the screen, and back. “I...I was hoping to propose to him, actually.” A flush danced across the tanned, lightly freckled flesh of the man’s cheeks. “I had a whole speech prepared, and the mates I flew in with were planning something - I don’t know what.” He shrugged and looked back down at the phone. “That won’t be happening today, I don’t think.”
“It’ll work out, don’t worry too much.” Q blinked back sympathetic tears, sniffled and gently patted the larger man on the arm, giving him a watery smile. “That actually is a bit hypocritical, coming from me.” His palm slid back into his own lap and Q stared down at his twisting fingers.
“Why?”
The brunet sucked in a breath and heaved out a sigh, “Because I let my insecurity get the best of me and I got to thinking that he wasn’t at the gate because he doesn’t want me.” Q shrugged and began picking at the white of one nail. “That I’m too young and immature, or skinny, or boring, or or...male? I don’t know. Just that he doesn’t want me and I’m not good enough for him anyway.”
A thick arm wrapped around Q’s bony shoulder and dragged him in; a searing bracket of warmth he couldn’t escape. He squeaked as his cheek impacted a firm pectoral and he was enveloped in the scent of spicy cologne and warm skin. The young man’s eyes fluttered and he had to fight to keep them open in the face of such comforts.
“I can’t think of a decent man who wouldn’t want you. From what little I’ve learnt about you, I know you’re sweet, kind, intelligent, loyal, and painfully adorable.” The blond’s breath fanned across his crown and Q’s cheeks flushed hotly. “Don’t ever think you aren’t good enough, because I can assure you that I know few people who can equal the kind of character I’ve seen in you already.”
Q didn’t argue, instead ducking his head and hastily wiping at his burgeoning tears. After a moment the blond loosened his grip, though he didn’t move away. Q shuffled a bit and sat up, though remained leaning against his new friend.
“Did you buy a ring then?”
“Hmm? Oh, not as such, no; my parents died when I was young and I inherited their wedding bands.” He raised his right hand, flashing the jewelry around his right ring finger. The officer brought the hand in closer, holding it up to catch the light.
Q caught his hand — much larger, darker, and with many more callouses than Q’s own long-fingered hands — and tilted it this way and that to view the intricate and antique ring. The band was wide, well-worn gold. The top of the ring expanded out in an oval towards either knuckle above and below, and carved to resemble a stag head and antlers. The band was decorated sparsely with carved ivy and several small chips of emerald and diamond. Overall it was a simple piece that at the time of its creation would have been considered extravagant.
“Yours is rather lovely. I’m assuming this was your father’s then?”
A nod, “My father had hands like mine; working hands, thick and scarred. I haven’t had the opportunity to measure my partner’s hands — let alone hold them — to have my mother’s ring sized.” He flushed a bit and scratched his neck, an expression of nervousness. “I’m assuming, and this could blow up in my face, that he has thin hands like my mother. Plus…” he tugged at the band circling his finger only for it to do little more than wiggle in place, “I’ve worn this for so long I think I’d need to cut it off… I hope he isn’t offended…”
Q laughed and shook his head, “If your partner has half a brain he’ll focus on how you love him enough to give him something you treasure so much.” He paused and tilted his head curiously. “Do you have the other ring with you then?”
The other man nodded and reached around Q and into the inside breast pocket of the jacket Q wore, pulling out a black velvet box and carefully opening the lid. The ring inside wasn’t as thin as Q had expected. It could have easily passed for either a men’s or women’s ring while still retaining its beauty. Like its counterpart, the ring was gold and antique, though of a lighter, almost silvery shade. The band was made of three rings melded together. The middle ring was smooth gold, unmarred except for an oval and carved doe’s head that matched the other ring. The upper and lower rings were carved to mimic ivy with diamond and emerald stones set securely into the metal. It was gorgeous. More than that, it told a tale, one Q would have loved to hear.
“It’s beautiful!” He grinned widely at his bench-mate and gently nudged the other man with one bony shoulder. “He’ll love it.” They sat for another moment, smiling and lost in their own thoughts. “May I see that picture?” Neither mentioned the minor croak still present in Q’s voice.
Without comment the blond quickly woke his phone and unlocked the screen, selecting one of the photos with a touch of one thick thumb. The majority of his features were too grainy to make out, though Q could get a general impression of him. The man in the picture was thin and pale, with thick brows and dark lips quirked in a warm, shy smile. His chin was strong and his eyes were wide. A halo of thick, dark hair ensconced his head and brushed across his forehead. The background was dark with shadows hinting at bedroom furniture. A pair of luminescent silver-green eyes at the bottom right of the photo indicated he had a pet — likely a cat.
There was the sound of crinkling paper and the officer laughed softly.
Q looked from the photo, blinking. “What?”
The man shrugged, holding up a worn piece of paper that was beginning to fray at the edges. “I have the first letter he ever sent me. He scribbled some kind of animal on it but I still don’t know what it is.”
Cocking his head Q looked from the paper to the blond and back. “And you just, what, carry it around?” The officer flushed and Q grinned, leaning in. “You do! Here, let me look!”
Amongst half-hearted complaints Q took the letter and opened it gently. He read the words and by the end his stomach was in his throat, a leaden weight replacing it in his gut. The officer touched Q’s arm and gently took the paper back. Q swallowed, staring at his hands.
“It’s a penguin.”
“Hmm? No, can’t be. Doesn’t look a think like a penguin. More like a lumpy, spotted… Manatee?” He laughed and Q felt gooseflesh rise on his arms.
“No, it’s definitely a penguin.” His head swam and Q let it fall, chin bumping his chest. Both hands dropped to brace his weight on the bench, fingers curling under the metal slats until they grew sore and cold.
“How can you say that with such certainty?” The man’s tone was soft, chiding. He was staring at his phone, or at least Q thought he was. The brunet wasn’t quite capable of focusing on his companion at the moment.
“I know it’s a penguin because I drew it. I drew it and I wrote that letter because my mate badgered me until I did and when he complained about how shite a job I’d done I drew the stupid thing to take up more of the page.” Q’s lungs wouldn’t expand, he couldn’t move. I can’t breath, oh god, oh god I can’t breathe!
“...W-what?”
Q ran over the man’s stutter, hardly noticing it, mouth running though all he wanted was a clean breath of air. “And when I got the reply I felt like such an arse because all I could bloody well think to write was ‘good on you, don’t get shot. Oh, and don’t forget to wash your socks; trench foot isn’t something to laugh over.’ Didn’t matter that whoever the hell was getting it wouldn’t even be in a trench, probably.”
Broad hands caught Q’s arms, turning him until he was staring up with the wide, confused — and stunning — eyes of the officer. He searched Q’s face — for what Q wasn’t sure, he wasn’t lying and there wasn’t any reason to. “Q? Oh god, Q! Q sweetheart, breathe, come on, breathe!” Manhandling Q with an odd amount of gentleness he eased Q’s torso down until the brunet’s head was between his knees. One broad palm stroked up and down Q’s back as he was forced to take long, even breaths. The other gripped Q’s right hand sitting on the same knee with the crumpled paper between their hands.
“It’s going to be alright love, that’s it, breathe. Come on sweetheart.”
James. This was James. His James!
Q squeezed his eyes shut and took a warbling breath, mostly a sob. Tears gathered behind his lids and slid out, plopping to the ground. God, they were so stupid, the both of them! They’d been standing nose to nose, more than once, and hadn’t even known! A full sob broke through Q’s lip and he tried to muffle it, moving the hand that James still held to try and cover his mouth only to realise at the last moment that James was holding it. That made him sob harder and he had to sit up just to breathe.
James turned Q again until they were facing one another. Gently he wiped at Q’s tears with a thumb. “None of that, none of that. Here now, don’t cry. I never want to see you cry sweetheart.”
That just made Q cry harder.
This time though tears gathered in James’ eyes. He hiccupped and swallowed his own sob, wrinkling his nose and trying to blink away the tears. Trying to be strong for Q, like always.
That did it.
Q shoved James’ hands away and launched himself forwards. They knocked together all lips and teeth and smushed noses. The kiss was inarticulate and rushed but perfect all the same. James’ hands, broad and searing against Q’s back under his hoodie, were strong but gentle. The firm thickness of his thighs cradled Q’s body and his torso was like the perfect mattress. But his mouth… his mouth was everything Q had ever wondered about.
James’ lips were thin while his mouth was wide and on their own they weren’t particularly attractive — at least until the blond smiled and the light caught his eyes and transformed him into something beyond human. They caressed Q’s, pouring every ounce of love the man had into his young lover and Q did his damndest to reciprocate with all the longing and excitement and every other emotion he had felt over the last three years. This was their moment, and they’d make it last as long as possible.
That moment came when they needed to breathe and Q pulled away first, laughing. He was breathless and flushed; hair, glasses, and hoodie askew. Anyone who looked would know something had gone on. But no one else mattered. Just James.
James, who was staring at him in awe and with such devotion that it made Q’s heart clench.
“Yes, by the way.”
Brows furrowing James’ lips parted in a frown. “Yes?”
A nod. “Yes, I’ll marry you, you twit.”
That took another moment and James whooped. He stood, Q still straddling him, and spun them both about. They laughed like mad men and kissed until surely there would be bruised lips later. Their bus came and went but neither noticed, or cared.
They’d found each other. In that moment, nothing else mattered. Just them.