Work Text:
“Simon? Are you awake?”
His husband is snoring softly, a book on his chest and his glasses askew; he'd fallen asleep reading again. James smiles fondly and gently extracts the book from Q’s grasp, slips the bookmark between the pages, and sets it on the side table. The glasses are next, and James switches out the light before laying down.
The moon is shining through the curtains, illuminating Q’s face in the darkness of the room. James finds himself examining it, tracing over every wrinkle, every inch with his eyes. In all their years together, Simon’s beauty has never diminished. If anything, he's grown more handsome. James doesn't look in the mirror as much anymore, not that he's really willing to admit his vanity, but the man looking back at him doesn't… doesn't look like him.
His blond hair has gone mostly white now. His eyes are still a startling blue, but they're set in a wrinkled face he barely recognizes.The skin seems to sag a little under its own weight. His ears are, if possible, even more prominent than they ever had been in his youth, and even his lips have little wrinkles in them. He's wizened. He's… he's old.
Q has startling shocks of silver at his temples, and his dark hair is beginning to look more salt and pepper than dark brown. His eyes crinkle more when he smiles, his laugh lines are set deeper in his face, and he has a few worry lines etched into his forehead; there's one line that he named ‘The James Bond Line’ after a particularly harrowing experience with a lawn mower. James wasn't allowed to use heavy machinery for weeks after that. To be fair, James has a few ‘Simon’ wordy lines of his own. There's one that's simply ‘The Kettle.’
James can smile at the memory now, and he returns his focus to Simon’s face. The man always seems younger in his sleep, and James runs his fingers gently through Q’s hair. Q. Simon. He thinks both names interchangeably still, and they will have been married for twenty-five years tomorrow.
Leaning over, James presses a gentle kiss to the most prominent of Q’s worry lines and gathers his husband into his arms. This is how James sleeps best: holding Simon, the cottage secure, both of them safe.