Find the Words
Two weeks had gone by but Q still refused to speak to Bond. Every time he tried to get a word in, the Quartermaster would pretend to be on the phone or up to his specs in “urgent business” or offer some other halfhearted pedestrian falsehood. James knew that Q could be a very good liar, but these diversions were so petty it was obvious for everyone in MI6 to see that the young man was deliberately evading 007, and not being subtle about it either. The whole of Q Branch and half the Double 0’s were painfully aware that Bond had done something to piss him off more than usual. However, no one, not even James, really knew why. For a while, Bond had been content to go along with the antics, but after being handed off to R for his next two assignments, he decided things were getting out of hand.
James didn’t make a habit of visiting Q Branch unless specifically requested. The amount of technology taking over the traditional jobs of good agents was borderline insulting. For every one computer specialist MI6 hired, two field operatives became obsolete. Even though he knew it was more the British government’s fault than that of the minions, he couldn’t help feeling the twinge of animosity. Every so often it tended to show and as such most of the lower ranking underlings were too intimidated to look him in the eye, so of course his appearances were “bad for efficiency” as M had delicately put it. On this occasion, though, he could not have cared less about Mallory and his restrictions. Nor did he care about the frazzled looking R who rushed him the moment he exited the elevator.
“007, Q is not taking any visitors today. He has-“
“He has you covering for him now?” James interrupted with a snap that made her jump.
She tried stuttering out a response but he was half way to Q’s office before she could string together a coherent sentence. Predictable. The woman was a genius when it came to computers but shriveled under the slightest social interaction. Thankfully she was running for cover or reinforcements, giving him enough time to get through Q’s office door uninhibited. He didn’t bother to knock and the Quartermaster didn’t bother to look anything but annoyed.
“Get out. I’m working,” he demanded bluntly without looking up from his laptop screen.
James guiltlessly slammed the door. While Q was distracted by the noise, Bond used the opportunity to snatch the computer away and throw it to the chair on the other side of his desk. Even behind the thick lenses of his specs, Q’s eyes suddenly lit up with a furious spark that he hadn’t seen since M tried relocating R to a separate branch.
“No, you’re acting like a child. Grow up and tell me what’s making you such a prick,” James growled, leaning over the desk while the younger man stayed seated, seething in anger under the harsh gaze.
“For God’s sake, 007, it’s you!” he spat back and pushed himself forward so he was glaring right into his eyes. “You’re arrogant and you let that get in the way of your judgment. You’re careless and reckless and throw your life around like it has no purpose but to be sacrificed for Queen and country. On your last mission you came back riddled with bullet holes and nearly dead because you refused to listen to my instructions. Did you ever once, ONCE, consider what it feels like when you force me into uselessness?! If you die out there because I am unable to save you, how do you expect me to live with myself? How do you expect me to live without you, James?! How-“
He cut himself off short, face bright red and chest heaving under the combined strain of stress and heavy breathing. As if suddenly realizing all he had blurted and his lack of composure, he swiftly cleared his throat, adjusted his tie, and took two steps back. Bond was taken by surprise to say the least. Reserved Q, witty Q, dry Q, had completely vanished. He wasn’t all together sure of who he was standing with now.
“That will be all, 007. You’re dismissed,” he stated back in his usual candidness.
But James did not move. He was usually impeccable at finding the right words. The right words to seduce a woman. The right words to extract secrets from enemy agents. The right words to cover his own arse. Not this time, though. It was as if Q had reached into chest and ripped the lungs right out. Several responses tried to take form on his tongue, but the air needed to give them life was absent.
I would never hurt you…
I do care. More than you can understand…
You are the only reason I care…
“Get out of my office or I will have you removed,” Q threatened when James still refused to budge.
Damn it all…
Just as the Quartermaster was about to reach for his phone, Bond reached over the desk, grabbed him by the hair and pulled him into as soft a kiss as he could manage. At first the young man froze completely, no doubt too shocked to register a proper reaction. James was aware that it was a less than graceless choice (and so far from appropriate that even MI6’s human resources might raise eyebrows), one that undoubtedly compromised any chance for a strictly professional relationship, but he didn’t care. All he cared about was everything Q had said. He smiled against Q’s lips when he felt thin hands find a place on his hips, and it that moment he truly understood that there didn’t need to be words to tell him everything he needed to say. Not now. Not yet. Hopefully not ever. He would have spent an eternity in that moment if R had not walked through the door and dropped 400 pages of files all over the floor.