Partners
“Have you been on time to a single class this semester?” Eve asked in a barely audible whisper and James slid into the seat next to her.
Professor Mallory either did not notice his late attendance or chose to ignore it.
“Thankfully not. Can’t stand statistics,” he smirked. “I wouldn’t come at all if M wasn’t threatening to revoke my scholarship.”
Eve rolled her eyes and tried not to be frustrated with the obvious favoritism he received from the head of the Global Studies department. The older woman had given the brat nearly a full ride because she claimed to see “potential” in him. All Eve saw was a man whose only skills were doing eight shots in a row and charming his way out of everything. He was a dear friend, but it was hard not to be bitter. She had been student government VP her freshman year, was a TA for two different professors, and her GPA never dropped below a 4.0. If anyone deserved that money it was her. She decided to change the subject before the urge to smack him with her textbook became too strong to resist.
“Have you met the new transfer student who just joined the computer science program with Rachel? She says he lives right down the hall from you.”
“I don’t keep track of R’s friends, much less the boffins she keeps trying to into the intelligence recruitment program,” he grumbled, pretending to take notes.
“Well you should. He’s in our global studies research methods class and according to R, M wants you two to partner up and work on a project to explore technological advancements in the field of intelligence.”
Eve had been ‘frienemies’ with James since high school. They were always in competition, but still just as happy to have a pint together all the same. If there was anyone in whose hands she would put her life, he would at least be her second choice. Still, there was something incredibly satisfying about watching his blood pressure rise so quickly that a small vein on the side of his left temple started visibly throbbing.
“M knows I don’t work well with partners,” he growled. “She hasn’t made me do group work in two years.”
“Well, you do now.”
James’ whole face turned red, and Eve had to drop her head against her desk to keep her laughter from reaching the front of the classroom.
***
A junior. The kid was a bloody junior and didn’t look a day older than seventeen. Even worse, he didn’t seem to be paying attention to James in the slightest, but sat there tapping away at a tablet and nonchalantly sipping out of a travel mug printed with Scrabble tiles. M was looking smug to say the least as she eyed the pair over the top of her desk.
“You must be joking.”
“You should be pleased, Bond. Sherrinford is one of the top computer science research students in the country. You two should make some incredible strides this year,” she said, all too pleased with herself.
“‘Q’ will do just fine,” the kid corrected without looking up from his work. “The anonymity of a pseudonym makes life far easier.”
James wanted nothing more than to snap those hipster specs right off his pretentious face. Part of what made Bond an asset was his ability to work well alone; to function without anyone else’s help or directions, and take charge of an initiative regardless of authority. At least, that’s what he had assumed up until now. Deep down, he desperately hoped that this was all some sort of sick joke for M and Eve’s amusement, but knew it wasn’t true.
“And if I chose not to work with him?” James challenged.
M cocked an eyebrow.
“Then I’ll give your scholarship to Moneypenny and make you retake the class. Any questions?”
“No, ma’am,” he finally relented with an exasperated sigh.
“Good. Then I suggest you get to know your new partner and start working on ideas. Give me a full report on your progress in two weeks. Dismissed.”
James stormed out of the office, but looked over his shoulder to see the new golden child trailing after him, the tablet finally tucked back into his messenger bag. He looked even younger now that Bond could see his whole face. He was far too pale and gaunt, the trademark look of someone who spent far too much time inside and in front of a computer screen. James could easily snap him in half if he felt like it. A tempting thought if he could make it look like an accident…
“This isn’t going to be any easier if you hold onto this restrictive animosity,” Q chimed matter-of-factly. “I don’t like having a partner any more than you do, but we might as well get it over with. And let’s face it, this whole process will be easier if you just do what I tell you.”
James had a feeling that this was going to be the longest year of his life.
***
Coffee or Red Bull? Coffee? Or Red Bull? Both? Can I do both without dying? Coffee or Red Bull?
James tried to focus on the textbook open on the table, but the thought kept repeating on loop around his brain. He was somewhat aware that Q was going to kill him if he didn’t have the last two chapters finished by the time he got out of his night class, but James could barely keep his eyes open. Four all-nighters in a row was too many even for him. He knew he was never going to hear the end of it, but he might have to admit that Q had been right. Waiting until the very end of the semester to put together their presentation had been a bad idea…
Coffee or Red Bull?
Q was supposed to meet him in the library half an hour ago. The kid was a lot of things -motivated, bossy, obnoxious, overbearing- but not tardy. If anything, he was annoyingly punctual. If he didn’t show up soon, James was going to pass out on the study table. Fighting back a yawn, he dialed Q’s number on his mobile, and groaned when after a few rings it went to voicemail. What had the twat gotten himself into that he couldn’t even pick up his damn phone? James finally closed the textbook and put it back on the shelf. He knew Q’s class was only a few buildings down and he was such a creature of habit that James could pick out his predictable route even half asleep. He swore that if the kid wasn’t already dead, he was going to kill him.
As James rounded the corner between the library and the engineering building, he realized that his sentiment was a little too applicable for comfort. There were two figures standing next to the back door, one recognizable even by silhouette as Q, the second much taller and wider than any of the other techies with which he usually affiliated himself. At first they seemed to be doing nothing more than talking, their voices hushed and bodies at a normal conversational distance. But as James got closer, being careful not to make himself known, he noticed Q’s swollen eye and the blood running from his nose down his chin to cover the front of his cardigan. Bond tucked himself tight against an alcove in the wall, every instinct screaming for him to listen.
“You’re late. Again,” he heard the other man growl in a deep voice.
“Business has been slow,” Q answered with a sputter as he had to spit out some blood. “Look, I don’t have the money, but I can accommodate the same arrangement we made last month.”
The other man let out a throaty chuckle.
“I don’t think so. With how much you owe us, that would make you a far more expensive whore than you’re worth. I can, however, make an example of you.”
He pulled his fist back, and James decided he’d heard enough. Before the man even had time to land the blow, James grabbed him by the arm and twisted it behind his back until the socket let out a satisfying snap. When he cried out in pain, he swept his foot out from under him and plowed his face into the concrete sidewalk, blood splattering from his face as his cheek his a sharp piece of gravel. Just for good measure, he added a few extra kicks to the chest until the grounded man was struggling just to breathe.
“If you ever touch Q again, you can expect more than a few broken ribs,” James warned before delivering a final punch to the neck to that he would stay unconscious.
When James rose back to his feet, Q was gaping, his eyes flicking back and forth between his partner and this attacker. Upon closer inspection, James saw that along with the black eye and broken nose, there were finger marks on his neck and his leg was twisted slightly at the knee. He quickly wrapped an arm around Q’s shoulder so he could give him a support while quickly guiding him away and back toward their dorm hall.
“You want to explain what I just saved you from?” Bond demanded. He felt sorry for the young man, but not enough to be sensitive.
“I appreciate the assistance, but it’s really none of your concern.”
“Bullshit. Now tell me or instead of taking you back to your dorm I’ll drop you on M’s doorstep,” James threatened.
Q sighed, which caused him to sputter again and cough up a mixture of dark blood and phlegm. James had seen worse when Eve had talked him into doing MMA his sophomore year, but not in someone as small or thin as his partner. Though he was more than familiar with the sight of blood and broken bones, seeing Q this way still made him feel uneasy. They stopped at a bench in front of the dormitories so he could catch his breath. He had to grip the armrest like a lifeline to keep from shaking so hard he would fall off, and James held his other arm just in case.
“It’s something I got into back in high school,” he started slowly. “I needed something to keep the codes from running through my head all the time.”
“Christ, Q, I thought you were smarter than that,” James hissed, but he looked unfazed and continued anyway.
“I figured if I was taking it, I could make a profit from selling it as well, and the habit sort of followed me into uni. I did well at my other campus, but I suppose I just got in a little over my head here.”
“Well that’s the understatement of the bloody year.”
“Don’t tell anyone,” Q ordered, his voice razor sharp despite the thick fluid still leaking out from between his lips. “If you say a word, I’ll get M to expel you faster than you can crack a charming smile.”
James grabbed Q’s jaw, not enough to be rough but just tight enough to hold his attention and get him to meet his furious gaze.
“I won’t tell anyone, but only if you get your fucking act together. I don’t want to find you like this again. Ever.”
The younger man forced a wheezing, sarcastic laugh.
“Getting sentimental, are we?”
James twisted his face into a scowl, but dropped his hand from Q’s face so he could gently touch his arm.
“You can call it that if you want.”
Even in the dark and through the bruises, James could see Q’s cheeks flush red, but he still twisted his palm around so that their fingers could entwine. It occurred to Bond just how little he knew about the young man, but it also dawned on him that he did not want it to remain that way. He would not push him, he would not test him, but he would be there for as long as Q could stand him. Though he didn’t say any of it out loud, James still lightly kissed Q’s forehead and felt him shiver as he closed his eyes. In an instant, he found his partner nestled in his arms, as if giving James permission to shield him from his mistakes and all the consequences therein. He silently promised to do so.