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It was going to be one of those nights where he was going to feel restless no matter what he did. He didn’t feel like going out and chasing down someone to warm his bed and the thought of a drink made his skin itch. James padded out barefoot into his sparse living room. An hour or so going toe to toe with the heavy bag would do it, he just had to move. His hands wrapped, his shoulders squared, James went to work. He found his rhythm easily and soon the tug and burn in his shoulders and arms was enough to sooth the continual buzz in his mind.
That target got away in Budapest.
James slammed the bag with a well landed kick, sending the heavy bag and stand flying back into the wall.
Well shit.
Rubble scattered across hardwood floors and glass shattered in every direction as dust clotted the air as far as the eye could see. On the other side of the now gaping hole, James looked into the mirror image of his own flat, the dust clearing to reveal his neighbor who stood stock still in the middle of his own living room. He had obviously just been in the shower, water dripping from his now dusty hair and cutting trails through the grime that had landed on him when the wall came crumbling down. In his confusion and shock the young man must have forgotten to hold onto his towel as it went sliding down around his ankles.
It only took James a moment to notice but soon his neighbor was catching on to what was happening.
“Oh! Shit!” the man took a dive for behind his sofa. There was another crack and a loud curse.
“Shit.” James slipped through the hole, ignoring pieces of debris that clung to the edges, catching on his sweatpants. He scooped the towel from the floor where it had been left by his fleeing neighbor. “Are you alright?” He made his way across the ruined floor to where the other man was laid out on the floor, a fresh gash now making its way through the powder on his face.
“Shit…” he murmured roughly.
“Yeah, that seems to be the word of the evening.” James huffed. He offered the towel to the man and turned to save him some shred of dignity. When the man found himself covered again, James gave him a hand up. “I’m sorry, I don’t know you’re name. I think your mailbox says ‘Q’?”
“Q is fine.” he groused.
“Bond, James Bond.”
“I bloody well know who you are, you prat! You’re also the one who just knocked-” once on his feet, Q wavered, nearly toppling into James.
“Aw, don’t tell me you’re swooning for me already. Give me a chance to actually charm you.” James caught him lightly by the shoulders and guided him to sit on the couch. “Wait here. I want to see to that cut.”
“Ass.” Q bit back, hissing as he went to touch his forehead. When he pulled his hand away, it came back bloody. James watched as his face paled. “Shit…”
James dashed back to his kitchen just on the other side of the wall. The black bag that served as his first aid kit was just under the sink, a clean rag in his hand and he was back through the hole in a moment. “There’s that word again. We’re going to have to find another way to communicate if we’re going to get through this, darling.”
James perched himself on the coffee table and reached out with the rag and Q flinched away. “Are you even a doctor?” he snapped.
“No. But I’ve dealt with this kind of thing before.” James said softly, holding the rag up again as if to ask permission. Q looked skeptically over James face before finally he conceded and nodded, leaning in slightly to allow James access to his forehead. He took a few tentative strokes with the rag to clean away the worst of the mess. The cut beneath wasn’t as deep as he had feared it might have been. If he could get away without having to stitch up his neighbor, the better off he would be.
“Knock down a lot of walls then, do you?” Q was brushing dust from his arms, his hands fidgeting as James worked above him. “Or am I special?” James found he liked the way Q smirked.
“Well, this was certainly one of the more interesting ways I’ve met someone, though maybe not the best way.” James pulled out plaster strips, his fingers brushing back hair that hand fallen down into Q’s face. He watched as Q’s eyes finally landed on his own. His were an odd shade of green and large and bright behind thick framed glasses that sat crookedly on the end of his nose. Q seemed to be studying his face, his eyes tracing the many lines that James knew were worn there after years of hard living.
“I’ll pay for the damages,” he said if only to break the tension that suddenly sat between them.
“I would hope so! You did throw a piece of gym equipment through my wall.” Q quirked an eyebrow at him only to wince as the movement tugged on his wound. James had finished bandaging the gash and now they sat in silence, still fairly close.
“And if you’d rather stay at a hotel while the renovations are being completed, I can arrange something for that as well.” Q was still watching his face and it was starting to become unnerving. But at the mention of a hotel, that smirk that James seemed to like was back across Q’s lips.
“You would most likely also need a hotel room.” Q stated flatly.
“Most likely.” James putting bandages back into his bag, but they still sat mere inches from each other.
“Well, I certainly can’t see a reason for you to pay for two of them, can you?” Q leveled James with a look that said he was about to get something that he wanted.
“Well that depends.” With that, James finally moved away, relishing in the flash of disappointment in Q’s face. “Dinner?”
Q beamed and stood from the couch. It wasn’t lost on James that the towel was slung a bit lower on his hips than it had been before, the cheeky bugger. Q made his way back into his flat, his hips swaying just slightly. James couldn’t help but grin as he pulled out his phone and booked his- their, hotel room.