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When the limousine stops in front of the hangar, the heart starts beating wildly in Q's chest and the young man can't do anything to slow down the pace. Q knows that this time the pounding rhythm isn't due to the emotion for what he and James have experienced a few hours before, but it's due to the anxiety that consumes him at the thought of flying.
Soon he'll have to climb the short ladder and face the take-off and then the flight to a destination that James didn't want to reveal. Just the idea to sit down, fasten the seat belt and feel the earth detaching from under his feet gives him a sense of suffocation and chest-tightness.
He has always hated to fly but doesn't know himself why: he simply likes more to stay anchored to the ground and not to entrust his life to something artificial that could break at any moment. Only once, since he officially became a member of MI6, he tried to overcome his fear, but his plane winded up in the middle of a bad turbulence and this has done nothing but destabilize him even more. If his James wouldn't be in danger on the other side of the planet, for no reasons he would set foot on an airplane.
The fear of flying is one of the few things Q hates about himself: he, so rational and cold, forged from mathematics and the reassuring patterns of computer science, which falls to pieces at the sight of a plane and hears the heartbeat straight into jugular.
He doesn't like it because Q must always have control of his reactions, and the panic that seizes him when he sets foot in an airplane that will lift off, makes him weak. And he doesn't want to feel weak and vulnerable.
His jaw shrinks as the car stops and the driver unloads their luggage, but suddenly his right hand abandoned on the seat is covered by James' left hand, who caresses the back with his fingers before interlacing the two hands in an iron grip.
The touch with the cold ring of white gold that, from a couple of hours, is proudly displayed on James' left ring finger reassures him, and Q turns to his husband stretching his lips into a forced smile, to reassure him more than himself.
His husband: he still finds it hard to believe that it all happened for real. Of course, a civil partnership isn't comparable to a full-blown marriage, but he doesn't care: he never been happier than now and he finally feels complete and at peace with himself. Since he replaced his surname with James' one, officially becoming Mr. Bond, Q knows that he has finally found his place in the world.
The warm smile that James is addressing to him is just the confirmation.
"Love..."
Q smiles in turn, leaning over to kiss him.
"I'm fine, really..."
James returned the kiss looking at him with a skeptical face, but just nods releasing his hand and getting out of the car, then goes around and open the door.
Q leaves the limousine, looses the tie of the tuxedo and takes a few deep breaths, watching the men loading their luggage in the hold.
James the stops by and, without saying anything, grasps again his hand caressing the back with his thumb. Q knows that he feels a bit guilty for having chosen the airplane as transport for the honeymoon, and he'd say something to reassure him but not half a word leaves his mouth. The only thing he can do is to force himself to calm down: he's not alone, James is with him and everything will be fine.
"When you feel ready, we go... Take all the time you need."
James' voice is low and his ice-blue eyes stand out, sweet and intense, even in the darkness of London night.
Q smiles and leans to catch his lips in a kiss, chaste at first then more and more intense, and he feels the tension slowly melting away.
"Let's go."
James nods and walks towards the ladder without leaving Q's hand, squeezing it with greater intensity if possible. Q takes a deep breath before following him, focusing only on the thrill to feel the ring on James' finger: it's the only thing that keeps him from screaming, now.
Each rung of the ladder seems a step to the gallows, but when he gets to the top and the door closes behind them, what he sees leaves him breathless: there're champagne and flutes on a table at the exact center of the wonderful private jet.
Q turns to his new husband quizzically and James takes advantage of their solitude to loosen the grip of their hands and take Q in his arms, holding him to his chest and holding him by the knees. Q blurts out a small little scream of surprise and clings to James' shoulders, burying his left hand in his short military-cut hair.
"What are you doing?"
"I just anticipate what I would have done in a few hours..."
With an amused grin, with just three steps, James covers the distance between them and the first sofa and falls heavily on the leather, laying down Q on his knees with utmost care.
"Come here, love..."
The agent's massive arms clench around the slender body of his Quartermaster, rocking gently while the plane is taxiing.
Q trembles a little and James put him even closer to him, letting him rest the head on his shoulder and patting his back lovingly.
When the plane is finally off the ground, Q grabs James' tuxedo with a hand and buries the face in the crook of his neck, breathing in the strong smell of his man directly from his warm skin.
The left hand of James wandering placidly on his back and his right hand around his thigh calm him down, moment after moment, until the beating of his heart is back to normal levels.
For the first time in his life, Q went on a plane without having a panic attack and just thanks to his husband. Next to James, flying towards their honeymoon, nothing could scare him.