Whatever Bond had imagined would happen when he got involved with his quartermaster, this was not it. Bond didn’t do relationships. It made life easier, not having to worry about getting home to someone. Not having to worry about what would happen if you didn’t make it out of the mission. Now worrying about the consequences of your actions further than whether it was for the mission or not. But Bond did like sex. He had more flings than he could even begin to remember. And he was not one to ignore his attraction to someone. Against everyone’s warnings, Bond had become overly interested in the young Q. He never expected to become attached, his attraction, though, could not be denied.
Bond had attempted all of once to ask Q on a date. His building attraction to the man demanded to be satisfied. Bond had casually strolled into Q branch and asked for a moment of Q’s time, privately. Q raised an eyebrow but gestured for Bond to follow him to his office.
“Would you accompany me to dinner?” Bond asked as soon as Q closed the door.
Q shot him an amused look. “Don’t assume that I don’t hear the gossip, Bond. Look around you. We are the masters of gossip. Your reputation precedes you. You don’t do relationships. But lucky for you, neither do I. So, no, I will not accompany you to dinner. But should you be so inclined you could fuck me over this desk.” Q said, lifting a taunting eyebrow at Bond.
And so began their trysts.
Over the next six months Bond and Q kept up their meetings. Sometimes it was the closest secluded place, a closet or office or bathroom. Sometimes they took their time and ended up in one of their beds. But six months was too long of a time not to get attached. They learned each other, in and out of bed. They learned each other’s quirks and preferences. How Bond only drank coffee when he was out of the country. How much sugar Q put in his tea. How Q always kept odd hours and would often go without sleep for days in order to finish a project.
It was Bond’s third day home from his latest mission before he placed what was odd about this return. He had realized something was off from the moment he had gotten home. He hadn’t seen Q yet, hadn’t even heard from him. Usually they would have fallen together somewhere private as soon as Bond was out of medical.
Bond walked towards Q Branch warily, wondering what might have happened to Q.
“We sent him home.” R said the second Bond walked through the door. “He’s got a cold and hasn’t slept for a week. No we’re all very busy, so run along and take care of our Quartermaster.” She dismissed.
Bond let himself into Q’s flat without thinking.
“Go away Myc. I told you both I was fine. And he was here earlier. Run along and tell mummy that you’ve done your duty.” Q called groggily.
“Q?” Bond called.
“Oh Bond, you’re back.” Q called.
Bond walked towards where he was laid out on the couch.
“I’ve been back for three days Q.” Bond said gently.
"Three days?” Q asked blearily. “No, that can’t be right. They just sent me home.” He frowned.
“You’re sick, Q.” Bond said as Q struggled to sit up.
“Not dying.” Q quipped.
“Lay down. I’ll bring you some tea.” Bond said before moving to Q’s kitchen.
“Would you look at that? The world’s most fearsome agent, the famous 007 is making me tea. Careful, Bond, I might swoon.” Q taunted.
Bond rolled his eyes as he brought Q his tea.
“Ah, Bond, I didn’t know you cared.” Q teased as he took the mug.
“I do.” Bond replied without thought.
“What?” Q asked, frozen in shock.
Bond froze too. His mind spun. When had he developed feelings for Q? When had he decided that Q’s eccentricities were endearing? When had he moved on to thinking of Q as more than just another warm body in his bed, just another name on the list? The more he thought about it, the more certain he was.
“I do care, Q.” Bond said decisively.
“Since when?” Q demanded.
“For longer than I realized.” Bond said simply.
“Bond.” Q whispered fondly.
They sat in silence for a few minutes while Q drank his tea.
“Your minions think we’re dating.” Bond realized suddenly.
“What?” Q asked confused as to what sparked this comment.
“R told me what was going on. She’s the one that sent me here. She told me to take care of you. I’m pretty sure your minions think that we’re dating.” Bond explained.
Q coughed awkwardly. “You might not be the only one who cares.”
“You mean you have feelings too?” Bond said teasingly.
“Yes. Somehow I seem to have fallen in love with you, Bond.” Q said.
“I think we’re past that, Q” Bond said, raising an eyebrow.
“James.” Q moaned in protest.
“I won’t tell anyone.” Bond said.
“Oh, come now Quill. Do tell the good agent your name.” Came a voice from the door of the flat.
“Go away! Why are you back?” Q called.
“I heard your agent had stopped by.” The man said.
Q groaned. “Mummy will approve.” Came a new voice from the door.
“Myc! Seriously, God, why are the two of you here?” Q yelled.
“You, brother dear, are ill. It is our right,” the second man began.
“Nay, our duty.” The first man interrupted.
“To look after you.” the first finished.
“Fine! God! James, these are my brothers. Mycroft and Sherlock. My name is Quillian. Quillian Holmes. Now will the two of you leave?” Q said exasperatedly.
The men in the door smirked. James felt like he was missing something. They turned to leave.
“Feel better Quill.” Sherlock called as he disappeared with a flourish of his coat.
“We’ll see you Sunday at Mummy’s. Do try and bring your agent. She’s dying to meet him.” Mycroft said over his shoulder.
Q groaned as the door shut. “Sorry about them.” He told Bond.
“Not a problem, Quill.” James said with a grin.
They both showed up at Mummy’s the next Sunday. This time Quill was wearing a ring.
“We figured, why wait?” James explained.
“We haven’t quite picked a date yet, but it will be pretty soon.” Quill said.
Quill’s family’s expressions were priceless.