Work Text:
Midway through an integral bit of code, a memo flashed up onto Q's screen. His furious typing pace slowed as he blinked in surprise, eyes flicking across the four lines of text. Moneypenny's message was brief but firm.
M says that if you're not out of the building in the next ten minutes, I'm to escort you home. You do not want that to happen after the day I've had. Go home and don't come back for the next three days.
It might have been only words on the screen, but Q could practically hear Moneypenny's exasperation. He sighed, sitting back in his chair and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. He wasn't even sure what day it was, to be honest, but evidently he'd been in his office long enough for M to take notice, so he was probably hitting the 90-hour mark or so. It wasn't his fault. There'd been a crisis in Siberia with 009, and then 004 and 003 had got into a fight in Turkey and nearly caused an international incident, and then a serious situation blow up in Canada had required the last minute re-routing of 007 and 006 before the country ceased to exist. All of which Q had to be present for.
"It's not like I wanted to be here," he muttered to himself, squeezing his nose a bit tighter. Now that he wasn't caught up in coding, a ferocious headache was blooming along his temples and sweeping across his forehead. Q broke out into a cold sweat and held very still, eyes squeezed shut, until the worst of the throbbing pain was over.
Okay, maybe it was time to take a break.
He saved his work, did a quick but thorough sweep of what his minions were working on, and slowly stood up. The room swam for a few seconds before settling, and he exhaled as he finished straightening. The ride home on the tube was going to take some effort, but there was nothing to be done for it. He was tired enough that he would never make it back to the flat on foot. He pulled on his coat, not even bothering to do the zip, and opened his office door.
"I've got a car ready for you," Moneypenny announced.
Q jerked back. "What? But I'm going!"
"I sent that message thirty minutes ago, Q."
"You... huh." Q had no decent answer for that, except that he must have been sitting there with his eyes shut for longer than he realized. It was a wonder that Moneypenny hadn't broken the door down.
"There's a car waiting to take you home. I've even taken the liberty of ordering you a take away so you don't fall straight into bed without eating."
"I'm not hungry."
"R says you haven't eaten since last night."
"That's because I'm not hungry," Q snapped.
Moneypenny raised her eyebrows and he flushed, suddenly realizing just how childish he sounded. And now that he thought about it, he felt that way too: sulky and overtired, eyes burning for reasons that had nothing to do with how long he'd been staring at a computer screen, and entirely too young to be standing here in a suit arguing with a woman who could easily kick his ass for acting like a stroppy toddler.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "Thank you."
"It's not a problem, Q, but you have got to start taking better care of yourself."
"I'm working on it," said Q, which wasn't entirely a lie, and perhaps Moneypenny sensed that because she sighed and let it go. He said his goodnights and hustled out of Q-branch quickly, knowing from experience that interacting with anyone was not a good idea when he was feeling this way. He'd really pushed himself to his limits this time without even realizing it.
The cool night air was welcoming, and he climbed into the back of the car and curled up in the corner. The urge to tuck his thumb into his mouth was overwhelming, but - conscious that the driver was MI6 - he refrained. He could hold it together a little while longer. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the glass, not asleep but nearly there, just trying to focus on his breathing. He loved his job, and wouldn't have given up being MI6's quartermaster for anything, but it was stressful and difficult to be the one in control all the time. To shove these feelings down where no one would ever know about them.
It seemed to take forever before the car stopped. Q climbed out and made the climb up to his flat. His legs were shaking from fatigue by the time he unlocked the door and picked up the take away sitting there. His cats came running as soon as he stepped inside, meowing indignantly. Q mustered a smile and bent down to stroke them in greeting, then made his way into the kitchen. They still had plenty of food and fresh water, but he gave them both some shredded chicken from the Chinese Moneypenny had ordered. He left them purring and chomping away and stumbled into the bedroom.
His clothing hit the floor - he was far too tired to care - and he collapsed onto the bed with a moan. He laid there for a couple of minutes, eyes shut, before he crawled the rest of the way up the bed and fumbled at the bedside table. Hidden in a secondary drawer beneath the first were just a few of his favourite things. The rest were carefully tucked away in the closet, and Q was way too tired to dig them out. All he really needed was his stuffed calico cat, his pink baby blanket, and - he frowned, rummaging a little harder through the drawer, and finally gave up. His thumb would suffice. He slipped his spectacles off, rolled over, and buried his face in blanket while clutching his kitty to his chest.
He was shivering when he woke up, and for a confused moment he wasn't sure why he was awake. Then he heard sounds from out in the flat; his cats crying again and the cadence of a familiar voice murmuring to them. Q pushed himself up, rubbing sleepily at an eye, as a shadow fell across the bedroom doorway. Bond paused, holding both cats in his arms, and looked at Q. Q stared back at him blearily, too sleepy to really care about the picture he probably presented: stark naked, on top of the covers, with only his blanket and kitty for company.
Bond sighed just once, mouth quirking up into a smile, and then it was like the deadly double-oh agent melted away into just James. "I had an interesting conversation with Moneypenny."
"She was lying," Q mumbled.
"Based on the evidence I'm looking at, love, I really doubt that." James prowled closer, dumping the cats on the bed, and leaned over to press a kiss to Q's forehead. "How old are you right now?"
Q hummed in response, shivering again. "Dunno."
"Mhm. Less than five?"
"Sleepy," Q said by way of answer, slipping his thumb back into his mouth.
"Less than three, maybe less than two," James said, more to himself than to Q, sliding a practiced arm under Q's shoulders and lifting him up just enough to get at the blanket underneath. He settled it over the shivering Q even as he muttered, "I should really get you into pyjamas and a nappy before you fall asleep."
"Not that young," Q protested around his thumb.
James raised an eyebrow. "Because you always suck your thumb when you're feeling your normal self," he said, but kindly, ruffling Q's hair.
Q pouted, curling in on himself. A little part of him still felt guilty about putting this on James' shoulders after what the man had been through and continued to go through on a regular basis, no matter how frequently that James insisted he didn't mind, and maybe even enjoyed it a little. But at the same time, Q couldn't help it. His high stress, high stakes job inevitably broke him down into his little headspace whether he liked it or not. And he wasn't good at taking care of himself even when he was big; when he was little, especially as little as he felt now, it was a proven disaster.
"I could be big if I wanted to," he grumbled, pushing his face back into his pillow. He heard James chuckle again and then more footsteps, followed by the sound of the shower switching on. Q sighed, letting his eyes drift shut again. He was halfway asleep when he was unceremoniously plucked from the bed. He let out an indignant yelp, halfway to a wail.
"Shh, Q. I'm sorry, but you need a bath desperately," James said, hefting his slender frame with far too much ease. He was already naked, and at least the somewhat awkward position over James's shoulder gave Q enough of a view to see that James was largely un-hurt, aside from a scattered handful of bruises here and there. Which was more than a decent for a double-oh, and curiosity surged to the surface, momentarily brushing aside the clinging cobwebs of his little headspace.
"Your mission went well?" he asked, legs unsteady when James set him down in the tub. The shower was already on, hot water sliding over his hair, and he sank down against the wall until he was sitting with his knees against his chest.
"It went fine. There will be plenty of time to debrief later. You know I don't like talking about that stuff with children."
Q bit his tongue against the urge to protest that he wasn't completely a child right now, because he knew exactly how the conversation would go. James was too stubborn and would only patronize him, and Q would end up getting angry or frustrated and react that much more childishly - thus proving James's point, and making Q even angrier. The resulting stand-off, often with a rousing tantrum when Q lost his temper and his fragile hold on his adult self, was always legendary, particularly when James would start feeling guilty for driving Q to that point in the first place.
He wasn't in the mood for that tonight. He leaned his head against the tub, surveying James through half-lidded eyes, and noticed just how tired James really looked. Missions weren't only physical, after all; there was a mental element as well, and, for reasons Q had never been able to discern, James claimed he liked the age play as a way to come down after a mission. It made sense theoretically - the scenario offered James complete control, one of few methods that didn't include sex or violence, both of which had the unfortunate side effect of keeping James in mission mode that much longer - but it was never easy for Q to wrap his mind around.
Still, he wasn't exactly in the position to go around second guessing tonight. It was a lot easier to relax and let the warmth of the water and the rising steam lull him nearly to sleep, while James soaped himself down and rinsed off. He'd always liked watching James shower; there was nothing sexual about it, obviously, but the confidence in the way that James moved was soothing. There was almost an art to it. Q closed his eyes, feeling safer than he had in weeks, and could have happily gone to sleep right there at the bottom of the tub.
At least until James knelt down next to him, one soapy hand sweeping across Q's curls. "Come on now, love. Don't fall asleep here."
"Go away," Q said without opening his eyes.
"Q."
"Daddy." The word slipped out without Q's meaning it to, and once it was out there was no calling it back. He'd only even used it a handful of times before, and somehow it made everything seem so much more real. His heart skipped a beat in the span of time it took the corner of James's mouth to lift into a fond smile.
"Every time you say that, I almost think you're talking to someone else," he said.
Q frowned. "I wouldn't call anyone else that."
"I should hope not." James patted his head again, then stood up and grabbed the shower handle. It was detachable, and when he crouched back down he brought it with him to direct the spray over Q's shoulders. At close range, the water felt heavenly. Q whimpered as all of the knots in his shoulders and upper back suddenly seemed to be magnified. James shushed him, holding the shower handle between his knees and picking up the soap with his hands. He lathered the bar up and carefully soaped up Q's body, paying special attention to his sore neck and shoulders.
"Hurts, Daddy," Q mumbled, bowing his head. Every time he said it, it got that much easier to leave himself in James's more than capable hands.
"I know," James soothed, running sure fingers across Q's skin, trailing the water behind his touch. He was gentle but thorough in equal measure, cleaning away the stress of the past couple days along with the rest of Q's big self. James seemed to sense the switch as he wet Q's hair and reached for the shampoo, and he pressed a light kiss to Q's forehead before he lathered up his hands. Q moaned softly as the shampoo was worked into his hair, thoroughly enjoying the strength in his daddy's hands, and pouted when it stopped and James reached for the shower again.
"More," he said childishly, squinting up at James. Even at this close distance, it was a strain on his eyes.
"You know the hot water will run out if we linger much longer," James replied, pressing a sure hand to Q's forehead to shield his eyes. "When we wake up, I'll run you a bath and you can splash to your heart's content, okay?"
It wasn't really what Q wanted - he liked taking showers with his daddy, and James never joined him in the bath - but he could tell from James's tone of voice that he wasn't going to get his way. He frowned as James aimed the water over Q's hair, rinsing it clean of shampoo. Admittedly, the hot water running across his head and down his neck did feel really nice, but Q was left shivering when the shower moved away. He hunched in on himself, slipping his thumb back in his mouth.
"Cold," he said around his thumb as James shut the water off.
"I know. Come on. I have a nice set of comfy pyjamas waiting for you. Once we're both dressed, I'll heat up some food. That will get you really warm." James grabbed a towel and dropped it on Q's head. "Oh my, where did Q go?"
Q blinked in the sudden darkness and tried to hold back a giggle. "I'm right here, Daddy."
"Where? I can't see you!"
"Right here!" Q batted at the towel, pushing it away. He couldn't make out his daddy's face, but James chuckled warmly.
"Oh, there you are. My mistake."
"You're silly," Q said.
"Only with you, love," James said, and Q smiled because that was true. He got to his feet and carefully stepped over the rim of the tub. His daddy tossed the towel back over his head and scruffed briskly at his hair to dry it. He chuckled again when he pulled the towel off, and Q didn't need to look in the mirror to know that his hair was standing on end from the static electricity.
He patted lamely at his hair, not really caring, and asked, "Food?"
"I'll get it. Do you need to go potty?"
"No."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
James was staring at him. Q could feel it, and he knew what was coming. He wondered if he'd make it to the door. He'd done it before. His daddy tried to get mad when Q ran and hid because he didn't want to wear a nappy, but Q knew that his daddy found it funny, so he never got punished.
"Not today, baby boy," James said, blocking the door. "We're both too tired for that. I don't want to wake up to a wet bed later, Q. You know how upset you get when that happens. You're already exhausted." His voice turned softer, comforting. "Let Daddy get you ready for bed, yeah?"
Q was tired. He sighed and rubbed at his eyes. "Okay."
"There's a good lad. Stand up." James was quick, fetching a nappy from underneath the sink. He had it around Q's hips and between his legs in an instant. Q would never admit it, but the puffiness around his crotch and thighs was comforting. It meant that he could have an accident, make a mistake, and it would be okay. This was the only time he could ever let that happen and it wasn't a big deal, because his daddy would take care of it. His eyes drooped.
He followed his daddy back into the bedroom and stood placidly by the bed, obediently stepping into the pyjamas and lifting his arms when asked. It was a relief to climb back into the bed, and he curled up with his kitty and his blanket again. By the time his daddy came back with the heated take away, Q was more than half asleep. He grumbled when James shook him awake and just opened his mouth rather than go through the effort of feeding himself.
"You are little tonight," his daddy murmured, sounding amused, but fed him little bits of chicken, veggies and rice. Q ate what he was given until he felt full enough, and then he closed his mouth and set his head back down. James set a hand on his head, lightly stroking his hair.
"No bottle tonight?" he asked, and Q just hummed in response. "Not that you'll stay awake long enough for it. Here."
Q opened one eye, curious, and saw a blurry blue shape in front of his nose. His dummy! Of course his daddy had known where it was. Happily, he latched on. The first couple of sucks hit him like a drug, draining the remaining tension from his body. He went lax all over, eyes fluttering shut, barely aware of James finishing off their dinner and shutting off the lights. His daddy set the plate aside and shifted to lay down beside him. Q rolled into him, warmed finally as his daddy wrapped strong arms around him, and fell back asleep smiling around his dummy.