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Raised voices were nothing new in Technical Services. Typically the arguments were about statistics or coding or who had eaten the last pack of biscuits. Though, when it was the Quartermaster yelling, everyone tended to take notice.
The person that responded to the Quartermaster kept his voice low, but the implicit threat in the tone had James switching from a casual stroll to a ground eating stride. The white bag in his left hand was forgotten.
Boffins scattered out of his way. His gaze flicked up to the main screens. Typical code and progress reports and statistics sheets filled the screens. He reached out and snagged a boffin by the shoulder, the woman didn’t even bother to squeak in startlement -- at any other time he would have been impressed.
“Five minutes ago. Didn’t even realize he was here until Q started yelling. He’s been either yelling or deathly quiet. The other man hasn’t raised his voice once. We don’t know who he is either.” With that the woman slid out of his grasp with a twist and went over to her station and started frantically typing.
“Is he a threat?” James growled, following the woman and peering over her shoulder as the facial recognition program ran.
“Physically? No.” Margaret tossed out over her shoulder as the software blinked twice and then stopped. The two images matched.
“Marcus Alexander Ainsley. Member of Parliament.”
“I’ll handle this. Thank you, Margaret.” James murmured before he turned towards the door and internally cursed. Today was supposed to have been a quiet one, one where he could make certain Xan ate. Not a day for dealing with his lover’s estranged father. Bugger.
“-- expected you to actually make something of yourself, or at the very least inform me when you had done so. Instead, I see once again that you are merely some technician amidst the masses. An Ainsley does not settle for anything but the very top.”
“Sir?” James asked as he tapped on the door and pushed it open at the same time, holding up the white paper bag of food. He watched as his lover only partially turned towards him, keeping his Father in his peripheral view.
“James.” The Quartermaster responded, motioning him forward. Jame shut the door as he eased through it, and then moved papers aside before he set the bag down. His Quartermaster held out a hand, flat and palm up, with a specific look in his hazel eyes.
James grimaced. He knew that look. A brisk nod was his response. He then pulled the Walther from the holster and slid the clip free and ejected the chambered round before he surrendered the gun.
“Thank you, Double-oh Seven. I will make certain this is returned to the inventory. However, I expect such things returned in a timely fashion. Also, your paperwork is late.”
“Of course, I will start on it promptly. Shall I escort your Father out, sir?”
“No. I believe I should do that, myself. He was just leaving.”
“Alexander --”
“Sir.” James wouldn’t have missed the censure in that one word even if he had been drugged out of his mind. He squelched the shiver that tried to race up his spine. That tone was very not good.“That information is need to know. Thankfully for your worthless hide, James already knew my name and who you were. You should not have been able to come this far into Six. I am going to have to spend at least three days figuring out how you did it, and how to plug such a security hole. Dear god. I would have my own head if it weren’t you.”
James watched as Xan set the firearm on the desk and fingered a pen. Catching sight of the thin gold ring sandwiched between silver, he stepped forward and plucked the device from his lover’s fingers. While the Quartermaster appeared relaxed leaning against the back of his desk with his ankles crossed, James could read that he was anything but in the fact his fingers were completely still. The Quartermaster was always fidgeting in one way or another when he was relaxed. Total stillness was a symptom and a signal that meltdown was a high possibility.
“While I know you wish to kill him, it is not feasible. Nor would it improve the decor any.” James pitched his voice low, so that it would only be audible for his Quartermaster.
“Oh, it’s plenty bloody feasible.” Xan muttered, but he allowed James to keep the pen.
“I have a point on the decor then? Noted.” James said, allowing a smirk to curve his lips. His blue eyes remained glacial as he kept his attention fixed on the older man in a bespoke suit.
“Do you have a reason to remain, James?” Ainsley asked, twisting the Double-oh’s name as though it were an epithet. James met the man’s gaze squarely and realized that his lover got his eye colour from his father.
“Protocol dictates that all visitors are to be escorted. Typically security handles such things. However; I do not believe the Quartermaster or M will wish to involve Section Ten personnel, so I will volunteer my services.”
“I accept. And as such, I believe you will need this in the course of said duties.” Q handed the weapon back and was expressionless as James slid the full clip back into the weapon and chambered a round. It was holstered and James took a step back, taking position up against the door.
“Family matters should not be discussed before others.” Ainsley stated.
“Xan? I see why the suits did not impress you. Richard James?” An eyebrow rose even as James’ blue eyes flicked over the dark grey suit. Ainsley nodded curtly James merely blinked and flicked lint away from his own.
“True. You always wear Gieves & Hawkes, James. And Father? James is my lover, and therefore can be part of this discussion.” Q’s voice was chilled..
“I see your perverted preferences have not changed. One would have thought the government and Her Majesty did not support such things.” Ainsley sniffed and sneered in James’ direction. Xan stiffened. James merely smirked and pocketed the pen.
“He is the rough sort, I would expect. Crude, brash, barely a thin veneer of respectability over a thug in an expensive suit. Grasping at a respectability his lack of name could never give.”
The Quartermaster gave a harsh bark of laughter. James smirked. Ainsley frowned, having not expected such a reaction out of either man.
“And there you would be wrong. The Bonds of Scotland, sir. We have been landed gentry for centuries. I know who your type are. The veneer you accuse me of clings to you like the aftertaste of a cheap scotch.” James watched the way the man stiffened and allowed himself to lean more comfortably against the door.
Ainsley's attention shifted back to his son. “You accepted a place in government where much of what you do is classified. There is little you can discuss outside of very specific circumstances. It would have been better for the family name --”
“Alexander Thomas Kendrick.” James said, voice flat. “That is the name of the man you address, sir. No matter if you have shared blood.”
“James --”
“As you will, Xan.” James said, inclining his head. He would allow the pissant little man that had somehow sired a kind noble soul like his lover to think Xan had him by the balls and could command him how he liked.
“M knows who you are and the potential threat you may one day pose. James knew who you were before we were ever involved in any sense of the word. Yes, much of what I do is classified. However, that suits me perfectly well. I am valued for what I can accomplish, not for a family name. I am judged on my worth, not my connections. I prefer it that way.” The Quartermaster smiled, hazel eyes cold as he looked the man that had sired him up and down and then turned away.
A knock on the door had James gliding to the side as Xan called for the person to enter. Helena poked her nose cautiously around the corner.
“Mr. Kendrick? Double-oh Nine needs your expertise rather urgently, sir.”
“Bloody hell, it was a laptop. Or supposed to be…”
“Locked full sized terminal, sir.” Helena contradicted with a shake of her head.
“Bugger it. Fine, Comms Two?”
“Yes sir.” Helena said, bright blue cartoon cat tee peeking out from under the grey cardigan she wore. James watched as his lover huffed and flew out of the room.
“I will escort you out. He is now far too busy to trifle with you, and there is no telling how far mangled that mission is, if she’s calling for his help.” James growled, he then reached out and snagged the smaller man by an elbow.
“How dare--”
“To protect him, I would dare much, Marcus. Now, either shut up or make a scene. If you make a scene here and now, not only will the entire division think you an unpleasant little shit, they will know it as fact.”
Ainsley subsided and allowed himself to be pushed, prodded, and dragged to the lift. James plucked the badge from the man’s pocket, skimmed it and pulled the man out of the lift after him. He smiled when Moneypenny stood from the desk.
“Eve. Is he handling anything important?”
“You can go right in, James.”
“Thank you. Oh… do be a dear and figure out who this belongs to. The Quartermaster will want them fired, report on his desk. He was dragged away from a private matter by a personal request from Julia.”
“Certainly, James.” Eve smiled, eyes flat. James returned the grin and tightened his grip as he dragged Ainsley after him and through the wooden door.
***
Flinging his lover’s father towards a chair, James folded his arms and smirked as Mallory merely lifted an eyebrow.
“What do I owe the pleasure, Double-oh Seven?”
“Marcus Ainsley, Member of Parliament. Also, Mr. Kendrick’s father. I know that Alexander went to great lengths to ensure the man could not penetrate Six. He managed it. Alexander will be busy for the next three days figuring out just how it was done. I asked Moneypenny to look into the ID I pulled from the gentleman here.”
“I pity whomever was stupid enough to let their Identification badge slip into his fingers. Q will turn them inside out and use it as an example of security protocols that must be adhered to at all times. Seminars?”
“I would not go that far yet, M.” James suggested, wincing. He distinctly recalled the last set of seminars he had been made to sit through. Xan had wanted to murder the blathering idiot from HR -- and the projector had malfunctioned, repeatedly.
“Very well. I can assume that Mr. Ainsley got in without an escort, as you are providing such. Was that at the Quartermaster’s request?”
“My son’s request. He was going to have a lunch date on Her Majesty’s time, sir.” Ainsley sneered, seeing a potential ally.
“Did he have time to eat?” M asked, meeting Bond’s blue eyes with a worried frown.
“Unfortunately no. Luckily it shall keep.” James muttered pulling out his mobile and sending a text to Helena so that the white bag would be tucked into the mini fridge and the contents would not spoil.
Mallory sighed. “I am more than willing to allow one of my very best fifteen minutes for lunch, Mr. Ainsley. Especially if it is with a friend and will help the both of them destress ever so slightly. James? How long has he been working straight through?”
“Before or after Double-oh Three’s mission went tits up and they sent Double-oh One out to try and patch it?” James countered. Mallory grimaced.
“I haven’t been home since that went sideways, and that was nearly forty hours ago.” Mallory huffed.
“Neither has Q. And he’d been on shift before this went tits up. Most of the branch has taken its direction from the Quartermaster too. They have not left. Between Eve, Alec, and myself we’ve managed to force most of the boffins to at least catch an hour or two here or there. Or we’ve allowed the ones that passed out on their desks at least fifteen minutes.”
“It’s the best we can do.” Mallory nodded and looked up as the door was tapped and James stepped out of the way. James nodded to Tanner, who had four full mugs balanced on a tray.
James plucked his typical coffee from the tray and nodded his thanks, sipping at it while Mallory allowed Tanner to pour out the tea and offer Ainsley a cup.
“Double-oh Three is in country. And somebody needs to get the Quartermaster to actually sleep. He’s breaking sixty hours straight.” Tanner said quietly.
“Good. I will send flowers. And I may have to drug Q.” James smirked, burying the relief that the man wasn’t coming home in a body bag.
“Do that, Double-oh Seven. Now, did the Quartermaster ever set up instructions for this situation?” Mallory glared pointedly at the Member of Parliament.
“Only that I was not allowed to shoot him.” James grumbled as he took a fortifying sip.
“Of course he made that distinction.” Tanner muttered, leaning against a bookcase.
“You realize you employ a pair of nancy boys, correct?” Ainsley asked, setting his teacup down untasted. “People that are supposed to keep this country safe and they are probably too busy buggering --”
“Do shut up, sir. You have picked the wrong room to try and air your personal grievances.” Mallory snapped. James allowed himself to visibly wince as he realized that the saucer had cracked straight down the middle.
“And that would be why he said I could not kill him. It would destroy his mother, I do believe. Of course, that doesn’t stop the minions from destroying his credit rating. I’m certain it was done before we were even off the floor.” James gave a full grin at that, true mirth lighting his gaze. He watched the man slightly bobble his cup.
A knock on the door had James once more stepping aside. He blinked when Xan strode through the door, take in the assembly, and not even bother to pause. His hair was sticking up at odd points, and James knew he’d had his hands buried in the curly mass, tugging on it as he worked his way through whatever Julia’s problem had been. James automatically passed him his coffee -- knowing the man would drink it just to stay on his feet at this point.
“M.” The Quartermaster nodded and then paused as he realized his father sat in a visitor’s chair.
“Mr. Kendrick.” Mallory nodded and turned slightly to face Ainsley. “Anything disclosed here is protected under the Secrets Act. Go ahead, Alexander.”
“Sir. The reports are being written by the main handlers.” Q took a long drink of the mug and grimaced, but did not pass it back. “However, I figured you should hear it from me. Mission Jellyfish, scrubbed. It could not be salvaged. Double-oh One returning to Station P. Mission Railroad, success. Mission Carnival, success. And Mission Turing? Success. All other missions are on-going and are below critical status.”
“Thank you for the report, Quartermaster.” Mallory said.
The indrawn breath and muttered hiss of pain had all attention diverting to the man in the visitor’s chair. Tea had spilled directly into the other man’s lap. James kept his face smooth. He caught the amused glint in his lover’s hazel eyes.
“I thank you, M.”
“James? Do take him home. Make certain he sleeps for at least twenty hours, and I do not want to see either of you back in the building for forty-eight hours. Do I make myself clear?”
“Crystal, Tanner. Good day, Mallory, Tanner. Oh, I do believe that Alec is waiting outside the door to escort the Member of Parliament through the building and out onto the street.”
“We’ll see he’s removed from the building. Good night, Double-oh Seven, Quartermaster.”
“Oh, Tanner? Do make certain Alec does not push him in front of a cab. No serious bodily harm, if you would. Or I will send him out with a water pistol and chewing gum.” Q threatened.
“Good night, Quartermaster.” Tanner replied as James took the mug from his lover’s hands and guided him from the room, a solicitous hand at his elbow. Moneypenny took the mug as they passed with a smile. Alec gave a lazy salute and walked into the office.
***
The next morning Xan only sighed at his father’s picture and the headline. Obviously nothing too important had happened overnight for the Daily Mail.
Member of Parliament Shatters Wrist Playing Racquetball
“You did say no serious bodily harm, love.” James murmured, trailing a hand over Xan’s bare back as he slipped back into his lover’s bed. He nudged Ubuntu aside and the cat grumbled for a few moments before James slipped him a bit of sausage and dropped the cat onto the floor.
“Alec could have snapped his neck, so I guess I can wait on sending him out with a water pistol and chewing gum.”
James only chuckled and picked up a strawberry from the plate piled high with fruit, waffles and whipped cream. They didn’t have to report in for another day, and James completely planned to take advantage of that fact.