Chapter Text
Haven
There was knocking at the window.
Q lived on the fifth floor, not anywhere near the ground where someone could have reached out and knocked at his window - especially not in the middle of the night, while London was being washed clean of its filth and smog by a storm.
Really, there was only one option as to who it was and Celeste seemed to have gotten there too, agitatedly moving her head up and down and flicking her tail while she encouraged him to hurry in her tinny voice, made even thinner and higher-pitched by stress “Come on! Come on, it’s Denebola !”
It wasn’t like they knew many people with bird daemons and they were intimately familiar only with one: James Bond; Q’s belly did a nervous somersault at the thought of the man out there in the deluge, driven out into the bad weather for whatever reason he had come to relay.
He had to stay calm .
It was more easily said than done.
Finally Q managed to extricate himself from the sheets, feet hitting the floor with a loud thump that reverberated up from his heels to his knees, and he shot for the window as he thrust the glasses on his face; he hated being suddenly woken up, it left him disoriented - unable to react with the promptness he liked to retort to anything with “Okay, okay” Q picked up Celeste,trusting her to climb her way up to a comfortable and safe perch, and he gently moved the cats away with his foot before he threw the window open, grimacing at the rain that immediately pelted him.
Of course, the knocking started up at the door too.
“Fucking timing”
“Stop complaining!”
Q thought that he was quite entitled to being a little grumpy when he had a soaked magpie flying in agitated circles around his flat - dripping everywhere - and an equally soaked agent walking past the door “Stay there for a second” Q ordered, holding up a halting finger in front of the other man “Denebola, you too! Calm down and pick a spot” he hissed, both in an attempt at not waking up the neighbours - if they hadn’t already, which seemed unlikely - and because Bond had the brilliant idea of turning the lights on suddenly, without even the smallest of warnings.
Insufferable.
Rude .
“Denebola, come here”
The magpie zipped past them in a rather terrifying manner, reminiscent of those videos Q had found on the Internet in which Australian magpies dove down onto unsuspecting humans with the kind of aggression and violence that Q had always thought only big birds of prey to possess; there were no doubts about the fact that Denebola could be as deadly as Bond was, both of them were packed full of the same dangerous energy.
Q shivered, trying not to flinch at what looked like a simulated attack - only that it ended with the magpie landing square into Bond’s chest and snuggling there, clearly in search for warmth and a safe hiding spot out of the storm - and ducked into the bathroom to grab the closest towels on hand, figuring neither daemon nor man would complain too much about them having been already used.
And if they did, well, they could go and fuck themselves: it was 3:57 am for God’s sake.
After they told him what was wrong, of course.
Q held open the smallest towel “Come here Denebola” he encouraged, ready to catch the shivering magpie while Bond took the other towel for himself once he had let go of his daemon, careful of not accidentally dislodging Celeste when he picked the towel up from Q’s shoulder.
He knew he could trust Q, otherwise they wouldn’t have gone to the younger man’s flat, but James couldn’t deny that he still felt somewhat anxious as he surveilled the other’s arms close around Denebola, expertly wrapping the towel around her without actually touching her directly - despite that, it felt like the other had caressed a bare nerve ending with his fingertips.
It was intense, far more than he could endure in that moment.
“Thank you” he murmured as he eagerly reached out for the bundle, some of the involuntary tension that had gathered between his shoulderblades melting away as soon as Denebola’s familiar weight was back in his arms.
“It’s okay, come in”
James followed after Q, smiling at Celeste who kept looking back at them with worry - trying to comfort her even when he was the one in need of a safe haven, somewhere he could just be and feel sheltered while he sorted himself back together; it wasn’t exactly uncommon for him to be in a bad and strange mood after a mission - what was uncommon was that he had ceded to Denebola’s nattering and had decided to seek out help, instead of trying to stave off the sudden bout of nerves and anxiety with alcohol.
He still wasn’t sure it had been a great idea.
James sat down at the small kitchen table, putting Denebola down on it only when it seemed that the cats had decided not to jump on it and join them, seemingly more busy weaving between Q’s ankles in a way that James could only suppose it was begging for food. How he didn’t accidentally trample them was a mystery, James decided as he tried to parse whether Q’s irritation derived from the fact that he was in his home or only from the fact that he had been woken up so suddenly in the middle of the night - or maybe both.
“Sugar? Milk?”
“No”
Q hummed and set down in front of the agent a mug full of tea: it was the only way to warm the man up, really - that or a shower but Q didn’t exactly have any dry clothes that would fit the man once he climbed out of it and he didn’t think his heart could take a naked James Bond prancing around his flat.
No, definitely not.
He observed from above the rim of his own mug as Celeste not-so-subtly approached Denebola and slithered in her cocoon “Why would you do something so stupid and reckless”
“It wasn’t raining when we left home”
“Still! Look at you, you’re soaking”
“I’m fine”
“ And shaking”
“It’s the body’s normal response to-”
“-being cold and soaking wet, which you wouldn’t be if you hadn’t flown through a storm!”
Well, that was… embarrassing .
Q cleared his throat in an attempt at stopping Celeste’s nattering but she was on a roll and she completely disregarded him in favour of ranting at Denebola even while trying to squeeze as close as possible to the other daemon, no matter that the magpie’s sodden feathers hardly could be that comfortable to snuggle in.
Why did she have to be so obvious?
Q tried to ignore the flush he could feel rising to his cheeks, even as he knew Bond’s blue eyes were taking it all in “Are you okay?”
“Yes”
Would it be rude to point out to the man that nobody who was actually okay would leave their home in the middle of the night, with the forecast promising heavy rains? Probably “Are you sure? If you don’t tell me what it is, I can’t help”
James shrugged, tightening the towel around his shoulders as if that would protect him - from what, he wasn’t really sure: he knew that Q wouldn’t judge him nor deem him weak “I just…” he shrugged again, feeling as uncomfortable as Denebola must have - only that he wasn’t getting a snuggle out of it too “I couldn’t be alone”
“Oh” that explained the suddenness of the man’s arrival, the lack of planning “Do you want to sleep here?”
“Of course they’re sleeping here!” Celeste piped up, her head poking out of the nest to glare at her human.
“If it’s not a problem” James added.
“You stealing cars is a problem, not you sleeping on the couch - come on, help me to set it up” it seemed that, afterall, he would have to find something for the other man to wear.
Dear Lord.
Q tried to ignore the warmth blooming in his chest at the idea that Bond had come to him for safety and reassurance: it wouldn’t do to fall in love with a Double-Oh - or fall any deeper than he had already had.