sweaters_for_gays



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    Q rolled his eyes. “Oh, there are just bloody wheels within wheels to it, aren’t there, this kidnapping business? Really, you should give it up. You’re not cut out for it. Think about it, your first time out, and you pinch a national intelligence treasure and ask his MI6 boyfriend for ransom. It isn’t very promising, is it?”

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    12 Sep 2019

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    The office was filled with the sounds of fingers snapping as Q rhythmically brought fire to life in his hand. The bright flashes of heat ignited as he clicked his fingers together only to be extinguished when he squeezed his fist closed. Wisps of smoke curled away, floating lazily to the ceiling. He picked up the phone.

    “What?” M snapped, distracted and impatient.

    Onscreen, Bond walked away from the test, shoulders taut with pain and willfulness.

    Q smirked. “Give me Bond.”

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    03 Sep 2019

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    Bond didn’t do families. He had one, once, that he vaguely remembered. He’d met the occasional target’s parents, but only when it was unavoidable, and never as more than part of an investigation. M had come the closest to being something of a maternal figure in Bond’s life (“at least I got something right”), but even at that she was more his commanding officer than anyone remotely affectionate.

    This was why, when Q explained (rather forcefully) that he didn’t want Bond to have anything to do with his family, Bond didn’t object.

    Unhappily for both of them, it didn’t make any difference.

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    02 Sep 2019

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    “I should sleep on the couch,” Bond murmured.

    “Don’t be a bloody idiot,” Q snorted unattractively. Bond, amused, filed away this propensity for sleepy swearing as something to remember. “What is it? That’s a text alert, not a perimeter alarm. Nightmare, then? Damn you double-ohs and your issues, I swear to god.” He lifted his arm in invitation.

    “Q, I don’t think —”

    “The window’s open and I’m cold,” Q insisted.

    Bond sat on the edge of the bed and finished the last finger of his drink with a quick swallow. He had no idea if Q was hinting that they needed to keep up their pretense due to the open window, or if he really was just cold. Either way, Bond wasn’t a man to deny himself what small pleasures he could take from this wretched life, so he slid under the covers and tugged Q on top of him until their legs were tangled and Q’s head rested on his shoulder.

    But as Q dropped back into sleep, Bond stayed awake, correcting himself. Having everything he wanted, in his grasp and completely out of reach, wasn’t a small pleasure at all. It was torture.

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    02 Sep 2019

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    Five years ago, Commander James Bond of Her Majesty's Royal Navy left England in disgrace, escaping a court martial -- and what should have been a promising career in MI6 with Alec Trevelyan, his oldest friend. He becomes a mercenary, selling his military expertise to the highest bidder, though not once does he act against England or her interests.

    Now, new intelligence has possibly located Bond in the United States, and Alec is tasked with the mission to bring him back to MI6. But to do so will require a very unique type of field operative -- one Bond will never suspect.

    Enter Aidan Green, codename Q.

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    02 Sep 2019