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007 had been spending a lot more time in Q-Branch lately. It had started a few months ago when Q had come back from a meeting and found him sleeping on the sofa he kept in his office. He had simply sighed and sat down in front of his laptop, opting to get on with his work and leave 007 to sleep off the damage from his most recent mission. Q did find himself wondering how the agent managed to get into the office in the first place, though. At some point he had left to get a cup of tea and when he came back 007 was gone.
The next time the agent returned from a mission the same thing happened and Q, once again, chose to ignore it. They never spoke about it, but it quickly developed into a habit. 007 seemed to have taken to sleeping in Q’s office, even when he wasn’t just back from missions and at some point Q had bought a blanket that stayed on the sofa.
Before long, 007 had started to spend waking hours in Q-Branch, watching intently while the minions worked on various projects or ambushing Q in his office to ask about whatever he was working on.
In spite of the agent's propensity for stealing prototypes and random items from Q’s office and returning them in various states of disassembly, after a few weeks of 007 hanging over his shoulder while he worked Q had become accustomed to his presence and near-constant questioning. He found his office had begun to feel all too quiet without 007 making a general nuisance of himself.
It had been a week since 007 had left on his most recent mission, he was due back two days ago but he’d dropped off the map at some point. Q had been warned about 007’s post-mission vanishing act and he knew it was irrational to worry after only two days. The agent would waltz into MI6 at some point in the near future acting as if nothing had happened and everything would be business as usual. But between the first few hours of 007’s disappearance and now, the slight twinge of concern had grown into a gnawing worry that never quite seemed to ease off.
Q had returned to his flat the second day, tired from spending a long seventeen hours at MI6 trying to coordinate an extraction for 003, who had gotten herself stranded at a safehouse in the Swiss Alps after an otherwise smooth mission. Christ knows why Six even kept a safehouse on a mountain, surely there couldn’t be all that many missions up there.
The tension headache that had been building since the eighth hour of the extraction effort was beginning to get slightly maddening and all Q really wanted to do was have dinner and sleep. Or skip dinner and just sleep.
He pushed the door to his flat open and dumped his bag on the floor, sighing as he removed his coat and shoes before making his way towards the living room. As soon as he opened the door he felt as though something was slightly off, he chalked it up to the anxiety from the last 16 hours, not bothering to turn the living room light on as he made his way to the kitchen.
“Hello Q,” the quiet voice coming from the far corner of the living room made Q whip around, heart already racing. He flicked the light on to see 007 lounging in the large armchair he kept in the corner of the room.
“You almost gave me a bloody heart attack. How the hell did you get in here? I’ve never even told you where I live,” Q felt himself grow frustrated as he spoke, he really didn't want to deal with whatever situation 007 had gotten himself into. His head throbbed ominously at the thought.
007 stood from the armchair to walk over to Q, “Everyone that works for Six has recorded addresses, they’re not very hard to find.”
Q looked 007 up and down as he walked, noticing the agent appeared to be favouring his right side slightly and was holding one of his arms very still. He hid it well, but Q was used to watching him; through surveillance on missions and more recently during his hours in Q-Branch. He could tell something was wrong.
He quickly glanced over the rest of the agent's body, looking for anything he might actually be able to help with. He noticed blood seeping through the shoulder of 007’s shirt, the stark red against the starched white making him feel slightly lightheaded. He never was very good with blood.
His eyes traced back up to 007’s face where he belatedly noticed a fairly large purple bruise covering the agent’s left cheek. Unable to stop himself, he frowned “What on Earth have you done to yourself?” He felt the concern from the past few days intensify. 007’s reply was quick, “It’s nothing.”
Q scoffed, “That isn’t nothing,” he took a cautious step forward, not wanting to push too hard in case it caused 007 to run off again “I would suggest you go to medical, but I know you won’t.”
007 continued past him into the kitchen, “Have you got anything to drink?” Q felt himself becoming quickly exasperated at 007 blatantly trying to divert the conversation and sighed pointedly “There’s glasses in the cupboard above the sink. You can get yourself some water.”
The glare 007 shot his way was probably intended to be intimidating but ended up looking more weary than anything else. “There’s also tea, if you want to put the kettle on,” Q continued, exiting the kitchen and making his way to the bathroom to retrieve the first aid kit. It was intended for use on missions, containing the usual bandages and slings along with disposable gloves and a kit for stitching up minor wounds.
When Q returned to the kitchen 007 was sitting at the table holding a steaming mug of tea, another had been left in front of the kettle.
Q placed the first aid kit on the kitchen table and opened it. “What are you doing?” At the sound of 007’s voice Q paused, frowning, “Your shoulder looks like a crime scene, I think it’s best to get it cleaned up.”
007 looked down at the bloodstain on his shirt and then back up at Q, staring at him intently for a few moments with an unreadable expression before sighing heavily and turning to face the wall, hands moving to unbutton his shirt.
Q felt himself tense slightly, if 007 was letting him help it must be fairly bad. He braced himself as the agent peeled his shirt off his shoulder, the material sticking slightly.
His shoulder didn’t look as bad as Q had expected, the cut wasn’t as deep as he’d thought and the bleeding seemed to be quite slow.
After washing his hands, Q pulled one of the chairs around to sit next to 007, looking the wound over as he removed some cotton balls and hydrogen peroxide from the first aid kit.
“I thought the bleeding would have stopped by now.” Q glanced up at 007, the agent was still looking studiously at the wall, face carefully blank. Q hummed in acknowledgement as he soaked one of the cotton balls in the hydrogen peroxide solution and began wiping the blood from the agent's shoulder.
Once the surrounding skin was clean, Q took a moment to stare at the table, breathing deeply in an attempt to fight off the faint nausea that had been building for the past few minutes.
Once the nausea had subsided he poured the solution onto another cotton ball, pressing it to the wound in 007’s shoulder. The agent let out a quiet hiss at the sensation, the muscles in his shoulder tensing for a moment. “Sorry,” Q murmured quietly, trying to be slightly gentler.
Q found a few adhesive bandages in the first aid kit and placed one of them over the wound. Once he was patched up, 007 stood from the table and walked back out into the darkness of the living room. Q threw out the used cotton balls and put everything else back in the first aid kit before following 007 to the living room.
He was slightly surprised to see the agent lying on the sofa, but schooled his expression into one he hoped conveyed neutrality. He crouched down next to 007, “Do you want any painkillers? I’ve got paracetamol, and I can get you an ice pack from the freezer if you want.”
“Might be a bit late for the ice pack. I’ll take the painkillers though,” 007 replied, sounding more tired by the second. Q nodded and got up from his position on the floor, heading to the kitchen to retrieve the paracetamol and a glass of water.
When he returned 007 was already sitting up and Q handed him the glass of water and placed the two paracetamol capsules in his other hand. “I’ll just go and get a blanket, I’m assuming you’re staying here tonight. It’s far too late to go anywhere else.”
He went to get the blanket from his wardrobe and when he returned to the living room 007 was already asleep. He paused in the doorway, watching the agent for a moment, the way his face seemed to have smoothed out, losing nearly all the tension that had been present earlier, and the steady rise and fall of his chest.
Q laid the blanket over him and made his way to bed. He was asleep almost as soon as he laid down.
When Q got up the following morning 007 was gone and the blanket had been left folded over the back of the sofa.
When he arrived at MI6 later that day, 007 was nowhere to be seen. He hoped the agent had gone to medical and was currently recovering, but he knew it was highly unlikely. He decided to work on replacing 007’s Walther. Considering the agent hadn’t returned it, Q figured he could safely assume it was damaged beyond repair or lost.
A few hours later when 007 still hadn’t made an appearance Q found himself worrying again, the quiet in his office was starting to feel heavy. He had become so unused to not having company that the quiet that had previously made him feel relaxed was distracting him from his work. He shook his head gently, willing the nagging worry away.
When the end of the day came and there was still no sign of 007, Q had decided on going to ask Eve if she’d seen him. She told him 007 had come in for debriefing and had been advised to go to medical, which for once, he’d actually followed through on. Eve had also mentioned that 007 would probably still be in medical, since he’d only checked in an hour ago.
A few minutes later Q was on his way to medical, hoping that 007 was still there, he figured seeing the agent would probably get rid of the lingering concern and allow him to get on with his work properly.
Q walked through the double doors to medical and realised abruptly that he had never been down there and had no idea where he’d even find 007. He paused for a moment and must have looked lost enough that one of the doctors took pity on him and asked if he needed help. He’d told her that he was there to see 007 and she’d directed him towards a room at the end of a long corridor.
When he entered the room, 007 was sitting up on the bed, reading a book and looking bored out of his mind. He glanced up at the sound of the door clicking shut. Upon noticing Q, 007’s bored expression morphed into one of mild surprise for a moment. He placed the book he'd been reading next to him on the bed and straightened his posture
“Are you feeling alright?” Q took a few steps towards 007, “I’m bored. This has been a brilliant reminder of why I never come down here after missions.”
007 shifted over on the mattress, which Q took as an invitation to sit next to him, “I meant physically. Is the pain any better?” 007 shrugged, wincing slightly as the movement jostled his shoulder, which was now wrapped up properly, “I’m not any worse off than normal. Are you working on anything interesting?”
It was an obvious diversion but Q allowed it, beginning to talk about his idea for contact lenses that would give the wearer thermal vision. 007 seemed to find it interesting enough, nodding along to the explanation and asking Q to update him when the prototype was finished.
“I’ll let you know when I have two sets. They’ll take a while to make and I’m not risking the only set I have going missing.” 007 sighed loudly, “You really should have more faith in me Q. I am capable of bringing back equipment.”
“Yes, I forgot you lose things just to annoy me.” 007 laughed quietly, it was a welcome change from the dissociation the agent had been displaying the night before.
A few moments later one of the nurses knocked on the door and told Q that visiting hours were over and that 007 would be out tomorrow morning. Q frowned at that, turning back to 007 “What are you staying overnight for?”
“The doctors said they couldn’t stitch up my shoulder since it’s been over 24 hours. They want to make sure there’s no early signs of infection and they’re worried that if they let me leave I won’t come back.”
Q nodded in response. The doctors were right after all, 007 was notorious for avoiding medical at all costs.
Almost a full week passed before Q had drawn up a fully fledged plan for the contact lenses. It would involve a lot of nanotechnology and he had been right about his assumption that they would take ages to actually make.
In the past six days of working on the plans for the contacts, Q hadn’t seen 007 once. He hadn’t been down to Q-Branch in almost a week and Q knew he hadn’t been sent on any missions. He had checked with Eve.
That could only mean 007 was avoiding him, Q had figured this out after three days and his annoyance had only increased since then. They hadn’t spoken since Q had gone to visit him in medical six days ago and everything had seemed fine then. Q sighed, brushing the thoughts aside and trying to ignore them.
When Q returned to his flat later that night, he walked into the living room and turned the light on. He jumped slightly when he noticed 007 asleep on his sofa, the blanket that Q had left on the sofa draped over him. Q shook his head and quietly flicked the light back off, making his way to the kitchen to heat up the soup he’d made the previous night.
None of this made any sense. Why couldn't 007 just go back to his own flat after missions? Why did he specifically choose to break into Q’s flat or office when there were people at MI6 that the agent actually knew better. Now that Q was thinking about it, 007 didn't know him that well at all.
He poured the soup into two bowls and placed them on the coffee table before turning the light back on. This time 007 woke up, pushing the blanket off of himself and laying it over the back of the sofa.
“Is that chicken noodle soup?” Bond’s voice was slightly rough from sleep and Q couldn’t help but smile “Yeah, I made it last night.”
After dinner, Bond lay back down on the sofa and Q had sat in the armchair, turning the TV on and letting it drone in the background. “007,” Q started, pausing when Bond sat up and turned his piercing and still unreadable gaze towards him, “Why were you sleeping on my sofa?”
Bond seemed faintly surprised for a moment. “It’s comfortable,” was the reply he settled on. “So, the sofa in my office is also comfortable then?” Q questioned. 007 nodded in response before turning back to the TV, feigning interest in what Q was now realising was a weather forecast.
Q decided he wouldn’t push it, he did enjoy having Bond around. It made a change to spending all day in his office alone and then coming home to an empty flat. He had become accustomed to Bond’s presence and the lack of it this week had made him feel a tad off-kilter. He supposed he’d started to miss Bond.
“Why don’t you come down to Q-Branch tomorrow so I can get a scan of your eyes to make those contact lenses,” it was mostly an excuse to get Bond to stop avoiding him. Bond pulled his gaze away from the TV to look at Q, he tilted his head to the side slightly before asking “You need to scan my eyes to make contact lenses?”
“Well they’re less likely to fall out if they’re custom fitted.” Technically true, even if it wasn’t strictly necessary, even if he hadn't originally planned to make the first set for Bond. The agent narrowed his eyes for a moment before nodding, accepting Q’s explanation and turning back to the TV.
He stared at it intently for a few more minutes before standing up and grabbing his jacket, “I should probably go, thank you for the soup.” Q spoke before he could really think about it “It’s getting late, you might as well just stay.”
Bond paused, slowly placing his jacket over the arm of the sofa and sitting back down. “Would you like a t-shirt to sleep in? I don’t know if I’ve got anything that’ll fit you but I can have a look,” Q offered quietly. Bond shook his head in response, “It’s fine, I don’t normally wear a shirt to sleep.”
Q nodded absentmindedly, getting up to tidy away the soup bowls. When he walked back through to the living room, Bond had turned off the TV and was laying on the sofa under the blanket. Q paused a moment “I can get you a proper duvet if you want. It can get a bit cold through here during the night.” Bond shook his head in response, “I’m warm enough with this.”
Q was still awake almost an hour later, staring at the ceiling and thinking again about Bond’s strange behaviour. He’d broken into Q’s flat twice in one week, seemingly for no other purpose than taking a nap on the sofa. Surely he’d be better off doing that in his own bed. Q tried not to think too hard about the fact that the agent had broken into his flat and, instead of kicking him out like a normal person, Q had given him dinner and told him he could sleep on the sofa.
The next morning Q woke up to the smell of bacon and eggs, he was confused for a moment before he remembered that Bond had stayed over the previous night.
He pulled on his dressing gown and made his way through to the kitchen, where Bond had set two places at the kitchen table, both plates containing a few rashers of bacon and two eggs. “I was just about to come and wake you up. I made breakfast.”
Q nodded and sat down heavily at the table, mumbling a quick “thanks”. Q frowned slightly as he remembered that he hadn't had any food in last night, certainly not eggs or bacon.
“Did you go shopping this morning?” He turned to face Bond, raising an eyebrow slightly. The agent nodded in response “There wasn't any breakfast food here. You didn't even have cereal, Q.”
“So you went shopping before I got up and bought bacon and eggs?”
James placed a steaming mug of tea in front of Q, pouring himself coffee and sitting down in front of the other plate “I got some other things as well. The milk was off and there wasn't any fruit or vegetables, figured I might as well pick some up while I was already at the shop.”
Q sighed quietly, feeling irrationally irritated “I can do my own shopping, 007,” he replied curtly, side-eyeing the agent as he took a sip of his tea.
Bond stopped cutting up his eggs for a moment to glance up at Q, “I thought it might be helpful.” Q sighed again and began eating breakfast.
Q was washing the dishes in the sink when he felt Bond standing behind him, close enough that Q could feel the heat radiating off of him, “What time are we going to MI6?” Q placed the plate he was washing on the drying rack and turned around, side-stepping around Bond. “What do you mean “we”?”
“I thought you’d prefer that I drive you instead of having to get the tube,” Bond smirked slightly, following behind Q as he left the kitchen, “You said you needed to scan my eyes today anyway.”
Q frowned, about to turn around and ask Bond what he was on about before remembering their conversation the previous night. “Alright then, just try not to wreck the car or kill us on the way.”
Bond’s smirk widened into a grin as he picked up the car keys from the coffee table, Q briefly wondered how he hadn’t noticed them before.
The drive to Six went smoothly, Bond was quite a good driver despite the fact he tended towards speeding. By the time they arrived it was already ten, later than Q would normally arrive. When he and Bond arrived at Q-Branch, the minions were already at work.
A few hours later, the scans of Bond’s eyes were finished and Q was certain he could have the lenses finished within a week. Bond had left shortly after the scans were complete, leaving Q to work in silence.
Q glanced up at the sound of the door to his office banging shut, seeing Bond standing in the doorway. “Do you want to get dinner?” he asked quietly, Q watched as he seemed to shift from foot to foot slightly, his hands clasped behind his back. He could see the tension in Bond’s muscles through his shirt, his leg was probably still bothering him.
“Now that you mention it I’m actually quite hungry, why don’t you order a Chinese?” Bond seemed to tense even further at his response, looking like he wanted to say something but instead he sighed and turned to leave the room.
Roughly twenty minutes later, Bond returned with a couple of takeaway boxes. “I wasn’t sure what you wanted, hopefully Beef Chow Mein is alright.” Q nodded enthusiastically, taking the box from Bond and moving to sit on the sofa.
Q looked up at Bond who was still standing holding his own box of takeaway. The agent was still tense and was acting as if he didn't know what to do with himself as he watched Q. The slight awkwardness was something he’d never seen on Bond before.
“Come and sit down,” Q stated bluntly, patting the sofa beside him and watching as Bond sat stiffly next to him, positioned close to the edge of the sofa, his back perfectly straight. Bond's seeming inability to relax caused the air in the room to feel tense, it was starting to grate on Q slightly.
Q sighed, closing the box of Chow Mein and turning to look at Bond. “What’s going on with you?” Bond shifted slightly, glancing at Q out of the corner of his eye “I don’t know what you mean.”
He opened his own takeaway box, which appeared to contain roast duck and Hoisin sauce, and began eating. “You’re acting strange, everything was perfectly fine this morning, you leave for a few hours and suddenly you’re acting all tense and awkward.”
Bond put down the wooden cutlery he was using to eat the duck, closing the box and standing from the couch. “Bond, sit back down,” Q managed to keep his voice steady despite the strange mix of worry and annoyance he was feeling.
To Q’s relief, Bond did as he was told, his posture was still stiff and he’d managed to sit even further from Q than before, but he wasn’t running off. Q calmly reached over and took the box of roast duck from Bond’s too-tight grip and placed it between himself and the arm of the sofa. Bond most likely wouldn’t leave without his food.
“What do you want, Q?” James asked through clenched teeth. “I want you to tell me what’s been going on the past few weeks,” Q heard James sigh and watched as the agent glanced over at where Q had placed his takeaway. So he was planning to run off, Q thought to himself.
When the agent didn’t offer him a reply, Q continued “You started spending a frankly ridiculous amount of time in Q-Branch when you were off-mission, then you broke into my flat after a mission when you were injured, and then you decided to completely avoid me for almost a full week, then you broke into my flat again.” Q realised his voice had risen significantly in volume as he’d been speaking and took a few calming breaths.
“You did shopping for me this morning and then you made breakfast. You drove both of us to work and then you bought us dinner. We barely even spoke outside of missions before. So, what’s going on?” Q felt slightly out of breath when he’d finished talking and he watched James closely, the agent had managed to shift even further away from Q and was now practically pressed against the arm of the sofa.
“Nothing’s going on,” James reiterated. Q scoffed, handing the agent his takeaway box “Fine, if you could leave me in peace to eat and get on with this prototype that would be fantastic.”
James looked at him for the first time since he’d gotten back with dinner and his expression seemed almost hurt. Something about the look caused Q’s stomach to drop, making him want to rewind time and not bother asking James about the way he’d been acting, but he pushed the feeling away. James took the box slowly, placing it on his lap, still watching Q.
Q got up and sat down at his desk, pretending to put all his focus into the prototype. James remained seated on the sofa and when Q turned back around he found the agent still watching him the same expression on his face. “I really am busy, 007.”
“You haven’t touched your food,” James said, his eyes not leaving Q’s face. He held out Q’s box of Chow Mein along with one of the wooden forks. Q huffed and took it from him, he turned away from James, placing the box on his desk and beginning to eat.
Q found he couldn't bring himself to ask the man to leave again, so opted for ignoring him entirely instead. A few minutes of silence later, Q heard James get up from the sofa, “I should probably get going, do you want a lift home?”
Q found himself nodding without thinking about it, turning to throw his now cold Chow Mein into the bin next to his desk and standing up. He followed behind James silently, his mind flashing back to the vaguely hurt look he’d seen on the man’s face when he’d told him to leave. The accidental display of emotion had made Q feel wrong-footed. He wasn’t sure why James had seemed upset at being asked to leave, it had hardly been the first time Q had kicked him out. Although, now that he thought about it the other times had been due to James making himself a hazard by blowing up prototypes. This was a slightly different situation.
The drive back to Q’s flat was spent without conversation, the radio droning quietly in the background, preventing the awkward silence from feeling too empty. Q couldn’t help but feel something between himself and James had changed irreversibly.
“Would you like to come in?” Q had asked hesitantly when James had parked the car outside his flat. “I’m tired, I think I’d better get home.”
The response, absurdly, made Q want to cry. He pushed the feeling down and nodded once, getting out of the car, saying goodbye to James and walking to his flat. When he opened the front door, he felt exhaustion take over and barely made it to bed before falling asleep.
It had been two weeks since Q had last seen James and the contact lenses were finally finished. The last two weeks had been a drag, Q felt as though time itself had slowed. He had found working on the contact lenses difficult, every time he looked at them he found himself missing James, his office and even his flat were far too quiet.
Q stared at the finished contact lenses, not quite sure what to do with them. He was reluctant to hand them off to another agent, he’d made them for James after all. The thought of the agent made tears well in his eyes. Q sighed, thinking himself ridiculous for getting upset, he hadn’t actually known James all that well. Not really.
He sighed, wiping his eyes with the sleeves of his jumper and standing from his desk, walking out of his office and stopping almost immediately as he saw James standing just inside the entrance to Q-Branch. The man spotted Q quickly and went unnaturally still for a moment before walking towards him.
Once James was closer he noticed the man appeared to have a few grazes on one side of his face. He must have just gotten back from a mission.
“What happened to your face?” Q asked softly. “Mission,” the reply was short and James was looking somewhere past his shoulder. “Well, is the rest of you alright?”
“I’m tired.” Q took the blunt statement for the hint that it was “The sofa’s free, as long as you don’t mind me working while you sleep.”
James seemed to relax, just marginally. “I think that would be nice, actually.” Q opened the door to his office, stepping inside and waiting until James had entered the room before allowing the door to swing shut.
Without really thinking about it, Q stepped closer to James and pulled him into a hug. He felt the muscles under his hands tense momentarily before James relaxed and returned the hug, leaning some of his weight on Q. The warmth radiating from the man was reassuring and Q felt the knot that had been building in his chest for the past two weeks loosen.
After a few moments James pulled back and Q let him go, sitting back down at his desk and tossing the blanket he’d stored in one of the cupboards under his desk towards James.
As he worked in silence, Q listened to James’ breathing take on the tell-tale steady quality that could only indicate sleep and felt himself smile.
When James woke up, Q had told him that the contact lenses were finished and a grin had spread across the man’s face. Q made him promise to do his best not to lose them and informed him they were the only set.
Things settled back into their usual rhythm after that, Q would come in some mornings to find James asleep on the sofa in his office, other times the man would watch him work silently while Q rambled on about the prototype he was working on. Sometimes he would buy them both a takeaway when Q didn’t want to have to go back to his flat for dinner. They never did eat Chinese again, though.
Later that week he'd even gotten home from Six especially late and found James in his kitchen making homemade carbonara sauce. After dinner, they sat down to watch a movie. Q had woken up the next morning laying on the sofa with the blanket tucked around him and James missing. He'd gotten up fairly quickly, the sofa wasn't actually very comfortable and his back felt a bit stiff.
It was a few weeks before James was given a new mission, this one wouldn’t take too long. All he had to do was get inside a building, get information from a computer and get back out. It would give Q the opportunity to see how the contact lenses functioned in a less controlled environment than Q-Branch.
The contacts had stopped working at some point, neither he nor James had noticed and someone had managed to find James and had taken a shot at him. He had managed to dive for cover under a table, but the second shot caught him in the leg, mercifully above the knee.
He had managed to shoot the gunman, who had been on his own. Q had hacked into the security cameras for the building and was watching as people rushed towards the sound of the gunshots.
“007, you need to get out of there. You have approximately 90 seconds until five armed guards come through that door.” Q watched as James pulled himself up on one of the desks, the blood starting to soak the lower half of his trouser leg. It wasn’t quite as bad on the grainy security footage as it was in real life.
James pulled the modified USB device out of the computer and took a step forward. Q’s breath caught in his throat as James stumbled and fell, trying and failing to catch himself on one of the desks. He lost his grasp on the USB and it skittered across the floor. James grasped it again, but didn’t appear to be making a move to stand.
“You’ve only got 45 seconds, you need to get out of there,” he could hear the panicked note in his own voice, “I can’t walk, Q.” James sounded tired, he looked it as well, slumped in a painful looking position against the desk. “You don’t need to make it far, just to that window, you’re on the first floor, you'll be fine if you jump. Just get out of the building.”
“Q, listen I-” James started, “007, get up,” Q interrupted, his voice taking on a slightly hysterical note as he watched the guards get closer to the room James was in. Q heard the thunk as James let his head fall back against the desk. He took a breath before speaking again “James, get up. Right now, get over to that window and get out.”
Something in his voice must have gotten through to the man. He dragged himself slowly off the floor with a pained grunt and limped towards the window, pushing it open as wide as it would go and climbing out. The wave of relief at seeing James make it out of the building was so strong it made him feel dizzy for a moment. “Right, I’m sending an extraction team. I’ll get you out, I promise.”
“How long, do you think?” the tired note in James’ voice worried Q, he had seemed to be losing quite a lot of blood, going by the pool of it on the floor where he’d been sitting.
“They’re close, it won't even be ten minutes. Stay awake, you’re going to be fine.”
Q had stayed on the comms with James when the extraction team had picked him up. The man had seemed slightly out of it and Q didn’t want to leave him on his own, even if other agents had the situation under control.
When James arrived back at MI6, the doctors got the bullet out of his leg and stitched him up. Q had asked them to inform him when James was awake, he remained in his office until one of the minions knocked on the door and told him that medical had phoned for him.
He made it down there in two minutes, one of the doctors met him at the doors and gestured for Q to follow him as he walked briskly down the corridor. The doctor stopped in front of a door, pausing to turn to Q, “He’s a bit out of it at the moment, but he was asking for you earlier.”
Q swallowed around the lump in his throat and nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He pushed the door open and took a breath before looking over at James. He was awake and sitting up against some pillows, Q slumped into the plastic chair next to the bed and abruptly felt his eyes sting before tears began slipping down his cheeks.
The tiredness from the day was catching up to him, “I’m so sorry, James.” It had been his fault after all, the only reason James hadn’t noticed the gunman was because the fucking contact lenses had stopped working. He watched as James frowned, shifting closer to him. “What on Earth are you sorry for? You got me out, I’m still alive.”
Q sniffled and shook his head, “It’s my fault you got shot in the first place.” James shifted and leant forward to grab one of Q’s hands with his own. “It’s not your fault. These things happen. Besides, I should've been watching the door.” He interlaced his fingers with Q’s and squeezed gently.
The touch was grounding and Q found himself calming down fairly quickly. He stood up to leave when he noticed James getting tired. “Stay,” James mumbled quietly “It’s late.”
“I can’t stay, there’s nowhere for me to sleep and visiting hours are already over.” James tugged on his hand gently, pulling him closer. “We can share, there’s plenty of room.” Q sighed, he knew James wouldn’t be suggesting that if he wasn’t high as a kite on painkillers, but Q couldn’t bring himself to say no. He didn’t really want to leave James after everything that had happened.
“Alright then, you’ll need to move over a bit though.” James did as he was asked, shuffling slowly to one side, flinching when the movement pulled at his stitches. Q took off his shoes and lay down next to James, they were pressed together tightly in the small space and James was throwing off a ridiculous amount of heat. It was nice though, Q was usually too cold at night.
“Q,” he heard James mumble quietly. He hummed in acknowledgement and James paused for a moment, taking a deep breath before continuing. “Let me take you on a date, when I get out of here.”
Q felt his cheeks heat up, suddenly all too aware of just how close he and James were. “Ask me again in the morning when you’re feeling better.” He hesitated for a moment before continuing “The answer is yes, though. A date would be lovely.”
James smiled sleepily at him, his bright blue eyes half-closed with tiredness, and wrapped an arm around Q’s waist, shifting so they were pressed even closer together. Q sighed softly, it had been a stressful day but he supposed it had ended well enough.