One more bloody form and Detective Inspector Bond would leave for the weekend.
He definitely wouldn't end up hating himself come Monday morning when he'd have to finish the rest of the case paperwork, right?
Maybe Felix and Cam were still at the pub and he would meet them for a drink after all. Maybe he’d find someone to help him relax. Someone soft and blonde and dull--someone who wouldn't remind him of the thoughts keeping him up at night, frustrated and aching. Maybe he would drink enough to pass out so he could finally get some sleep.
He put pen to paper, looking forward to the prospect of a few days to himself without this fucking case hanging over his head. James signed the penultimate form with a flourish and glanced at the clock above his office door.
So much for that idea.
The other DIs would have left the pub hours ago. Bond considered going out to find someone to spend the night with anyway, but something about the idea felt exhausting and pathetic. He didn't want to dwell on why that was and tried to push the lilting voice teasing him about his age to the back of his mind.
Bond thumbed through the stack of paperwork on his desk, but the letters on the forms began to swim before him. He threw his pen down on the desk with a sigh. He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed them, attempting to ward off the headache threatening to form after far too many hours of staring at text in the dim light of his desk lamp.
He must have drifted off like that, elbows on the desk and head in his hands; he jolted awake at the knock on his open office door. James reached for the Beretta in the shoulder holster he wasn't wearing before he’d even finished opening his eyes, adrenaline surging as his fingers closed around air.
“Sorry, am I interrupting something important?"
Bond blinked a couple times, his body automatically relaxing as he recognized the wry tone, and he took a deep breath. His eyes adjusted to the light and he smiled.
Q leaned against the doorway to his office, his arms curled around a few folders and his laptop. With his dark jeans and hoodie, jacket thrown on top, he looked more like a university student carrying his books between classes than someone who already had two advanced degrees to his name. It struck James not for the first time just how young Q was.
"Paperwork," he said, sleep clinging to the edges of the word. He invited him in with a tilt of his head.
“Must be high priority, you seem quite engrossed in it."
Bond snorted, rubbing his hands over his face to wake himself up. A quick glance at the clock told him he hadn't been out for long but it seemed he was much more sleep deprived than he realised.
Q smiled at him, small and pleased, as he stepped inside, kicking the door shut behind him.
“So, is it just a general grudge against you or does the Met make everyone do that much bloody paperwork every time they solve a case? Do they have a vested interest in deforestation?” He claimed one corner of Bond’s desk as his own, shuffling a few folders around to make room. Q set his things down so he could grab DI Leiter’s empty office chair.
“I’m pretty sure it’s more to do with proper records and legal precedents than grudges and hastening global warming. What are you still doing here?"
"Paperwork, apparently," Q griped as he sat down.
Bond leaned back, fighting a grin as Q attempted to roll over to join him in fits and starts instead of just moving the desk chair before sitting in it.
Once Q was settled next to him at his desk, he flipped open the topmost folder.
“Hold on, what the hell kind of paperwork do they have you doing?” Bond asked, leaning over. “I thought I got saddled with everything.”
Q shot him an annoyed look.
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
Bond raised his eyebrows expectantly and motioned for the technical intelligence analyst to continue.
“It appears that there were seven unauthorised attempts to access the casefile under my user ID while our investigation was active. Which,” Q held up a finger when Bond frowned and looked like he was about to interrupt, “is not the issue.”
“How is that not an issue, Q? Do you know who—-“
“What is an issue, however,” Q continued, glaring at him for interrupting, “is that you honestly thought that would be enough to distract me from the fact that you never filed the archive access requests or the information release forms you were supposed to for the last two months. Do you have any idea how much paperwork I have to do to cover your arse?”
“Ah,” Bond said and considered denying it before he gave Q a charming smile. “How’d you know it was me?”
Q gave him a flat look.
“Seriously, Bond?” Q flipped through some of the papers in the folder and pulled out the user login data report. “I don’t know if I should be more insulted that you tried ‘password’ first or that you thought my password might be ‘8oo8ieS!’.”
Bond laughed but tried to give Q an innocent look anyway.
“It does technically meet your criteria for a secure password that’s eight characters or more.”
Q gaped at him for a moment before clearing his throat.
“Yes...Well, while I will admit to being...suitably impressed you actually managed to remember something from that training, you’re forgetting that passwords should not be a recognizable word or phrase.”
Bond licked his lips and leaned forward with a sly grin.
“Oh, there’s plenty I remember but I’m afraid none of it is entirely work appropriate."
Q pursed his lips and gave him an unimpressed once over.
“Oh, are we suddenly acknowledging we’ve slept together? See,” he raised an eyebrow at Bond, “I was under the impression that we only really, officially met when I was brought in on loan for this case.”
Bond gave him a knowing look, his sleep deprivation all but forgotten. He hooked an ankle around Q’s chair and pulled him closer.
“What would you have had me say? ‘No need to introduce us again, Bill. I think about the evening we spent having rather athletic sex whenever I’m in the shower’?”
“I seem to recall the shower was the morning after,” Q said as he settled back in the chair with a rather smug grin.
Bond hummed in assent as he stood up only to lean down and bracket Q in with his hands on the armrests of the chair.
“Mansfield would have seen right through anything I would’ve said, you know that.”
Q licked his lips and smiled, gaze trailing from Bond’s eyes to his mouth.
“I’m fairly certain she saw right through you anyway.”
Bond tilted his head as he leaned in closer.
“What makes you say that?”
“Probably her asking Tanner if there was anyone left in the building you hadn’t slept with.”
Bond laughed, dragging his lips lightly across Q’s jaw.
Q hummed, tilting his head back.
“Rumour has it you never sleep with the same person twice,” he said, his breath hitching as James brushed his lips over his pulse point.
Smirking, Bond pulled away enough to meet Q’s eyes.
“Would you like to prove them wrong?”
“Oh, I’d love to, Detective Inspector,” he murmured, leaning up until their lips were nearly brushing. “What a shame someone left me all this paperwork to deal with, though, isn’t it?”
Bond laughed and grinned, delighted.
“Oh, bugger the paperwork. It’ll keep over the weekend.”
He pressed their lips together in a searing kiss before Q could respond. Nevertheless, Q was the one who broke the contact, pulling back to frown at Bond with a dramatic sigh.
“If only those reports had been filed properly, you could be buggering me instead.”
Trying to keep a straight face, Q pressed one finger to the center of Bond’s chest and pushed lightly.
James raised his eyebrows as he took a step back, even though all he wanted to do was bury his hands in Q’s ridiculous hair and take.
Q rose to his feet, appearing composed despite the flush on his cheeks. Bond watched him closely as he straightened his papers and closed the folder.
The rumours were true, for the most part: he hadn’t really found anyone who held his interest for more than a night or two.
Not since Vesper.
Not since Tracy.
There was something about Q that made James ache to take him apart and study the pieces, learn his every intricacy and contradiction, then put him back together.
He reached out and curled a gentle hand around Q’s wrist, earning himself a teasing smile.
“I wish I didn’t have to—I really do, James—but I’m afraid my hands are tied,” Q taunted.
Bond smiled slowly in response, stroking his thumbnail over the thin skin on the inside of Q’s wrist as he stepped closer. He tilted his head to the side, watching Q’s pupils dilate as he leaned in to kiss him again.
Q closed his eyes, anticipating the press of Bond’s lips, only to feel the cool touch of metal replace the warm hand around his wrist. He glanced down at the sound of ratcheting clicks and stared incredulously.
Bond, the bloody bastard, had handcuffed them together.
He provided an explanation before Q could even look back up at him, tone infuriatingly smug.
“There, now your hands are tied with something you actually want to do.”
Q gaped at him.
Bond waited for a witty repartee, but it didn’t come. Q stared at him in shock for a moment—then nearly collapsed against him with a peel of laughter.
Bond smiled and soon found himself joining in. It took two tries before Q could look at him long enough to say anything without snorting.
“Oh my god,” he gasped, shaking his head, “That was terrible.”
“Made you laugh, though,” Bond said, smug as he watched Q try not to smile, fervently ignoring the ember beginning to glow warm in his chest.
He captured Q’s cuffed hand in his own and stepped ever closer.
For a brief moment, they both held their breath, teetering on the edge of whatever this could be in anticipation.
Q grinned, sly and satisfied at something he must have seen in Bond’s face, and closed the short distance between them. He snaked his free hand up Bond’s chest to land on the back of his neck and brought their lips together.
Bond groaned at the first brush of Q’s tongue, his arm immediately circling Q’s waist, wanting nothing more than to have every part of them pressed together. Preferably with as little clothing as possible.
He began to push Q’s jacket over his shoulders only for Q to mumble into his mouth before catching James’s bottom lip gently between his teeth. He pulled back the moment Bond seemed to realize his mistake, unable to push Q’s jacket past their cuffed wrists.
“Didn’t quite think this through, did you?” Q teased, his voice rough at the edges, as he kissed across Bond’s jaw and down his neck.
He took his time as he pressed soft kisses and playful bites into James’s skin, trying to undo the buttons of his shirt with very little success. Q eventually pulled away, annoyance writ on his face as he finished unbuttoning Bond’s shirt. He pushed the open shirt aside and stroked his hand across James’s torso.
“Fuck, Bond. You’re so bloody fit it should be illegal,” Q exhaled, shaking his head.
Bond smirked as he caught the zipper of Q’s hoodie and quickly tried to divest him of it.
“Between the handcuffs and that line, I’m fairly certain we’re starring in some mediocre porn we didn’t know about.”
Q snorted, trailing his fingertips down James’s stomach and dipping them just beneath the waistband of his trousers.
“Why, DI Bond,” Q simpered, pouting and blinking at him innocently, “I’ve been very naughty.”
“Is that a confession?” Bond frowned, managing to push Q’s t-shirt over his head to join the growing mass of clothing that hung off Q’s arm.
“Oh, I’m nowhere near ready to confess,” Q said as he eagerly unfastened Bond’s belt while Bond unbuttoned Q’s jeans singlehandedly with ease.
“I have ways of making people talk,” James said, pitching his voice low.
“I bet you do.”
“I‘ll need to make sure I examine this from every angle, pursue all lines of questioning. The investigation may take a while...I’m quite thorough, you know.”
“I have all night,” Q leaned up to whisper in Bond’s ear. He nipped lightly at his earlobe as his hands moved to the flies of Bond’s trousers, earning him a soft curse. “Just what does this investigation entail, exactly?”
“Oh, standard procedure. We’ll start with a pat down, of course,” Bond said, moving both of his hands to Q’s hips as he began to ease his jeans down. James licked his lips and smirked, his intent more than clear, “though, we may need to perform a cavity search as well.”
Q laughed, his jeans dropping to the floor as Bond pushed them over the swell of his arse. James continued, voice firm.
“Now then, you’re required to tell me: have you got anything in your pockets—weapons or needles—anything that might prick me?”
Q shook his head but his laughter died on his lips with a gasp as James brushed his hand over his hardness. He would have been embarrassed at the moan that came out of his mouth as Bond stroked him through his pants if it didn’t feel so bloody good. When his free hand moved to grope his arse, Q managed to open his eyes with a grin.
“You are absolutely ridiculous,” he said with a huff of laughter.
Bond hummed in agreement.
“Perhaps,” he said, curling his arm around Q and lifting him up to deposit him on the desk, “...but you like it.”
Q groaned as Bond licked into his mouth, as much from the contact of their hips as the feeling of being manhandled so easily.
They got lost in each other, focusing only on the slide of tongues, the brush of fingertips, a roll of one’s hips. Their movements grew urgent and they fought silently as they tried to strip one another further, only to be thwarted when their cuffed hand was pulled in the other direction.
“This is...why you,” Q gasped between kisses, “—oh fuck—why you warn someone before...handcuffing them.”
Bond laughed, low, as he curled his fingers into the waistband band of Q’s boxer briefs and pushed them down to join his jeans.
“Oh, f-fuck,” Q groaned as James wasted no time before he wrapped his hand around his cock and stroked him from base to tip. He ran his thumb over the slit, smearing the precome gathered there, making Q whimper.
Needing more, Q managed to slip his hand into Bond’s trousers and smiled against his lips. He teased his fingertips over his prick until James canted his hips, the tight fabric limiting his movement.
Q freed Bond’s cock from his trousers, pushing them down enough to let them rest on his hips. He curled his fingers around the hot, heavy flesh and began pulling him off with languid strokes.
James crowded against him, tilting Q’s head back and kissing down his neck in soft brushes of lips only to sink his teeth into the tender flesh at the juncture of neck and shoulder. Q gasped, thrusting up into Bond’s hand as he laved his tongue over the spot to soothe the small impressions left by his teeth.
He stalled Q’s wrist and kissed back up his neck, pulling him to the edge of the desk. He aligned their cocks together and curled his cuffed hand around both of them. Q immediately wrapped his fingers around their pricks until they were pressed together from root to tip, the feel of the other’s too-hot skin against their own making them both moan.
Bond smiled against Q’s lips and felt his answering grin as he thrust slowly up into their hands and Q wrapped his legs around him. Bond’s free hand circled the back of Q’s neck and he licked into his mouth for a delightfully filthy kiss.
Q tightened his hold around their pricks and Bond, in turn, tightened his fingers in his hair, pulling his head back far enough to meet Q’s eyes.
“Fuck, I’ve wanted you like this again for months...” Bond growled, watching as Q bit his bottom lip. “God, do you know how many times I had to go out for a smoke or risk bending you over the conference table and taking you, not giving a fuck who’d see?”
Q’s cock twitched at his words and Bond smirked, filing that little piece of intel away to unpack later.
“So why didn’t you?” Q panted.
“Had I known you would’ve been amenable, maybe I would’ve.”
Q raised an eyebrow at him.
“Jesus, Bond, if I’d known you were going to wait until the case was over, I—“ Q whimpered as Bond began to stroke them faster. “We could’ve been fucking for weeks, you goddamn arsehole.”
Bond leaned in and pressed their lips firmly together, tightening his fist in Q’s hair.
“As a rule I don’t fuck people I work closely with,” Bond said as they pulled back, gasping. “Things tend to get complicated.”
He didn’t need to see it to know that Q rolled his eyes.
“I can respect that but—oh fuck...” Q groaned, as Bond swiped his thumb over the heads of their cocks, precome slick between them. “Do you know how many times I’ve wanked while thinking about blowing you under your desk?”
James’s hips stuttered in their rhythmic pace and Q surged up to capture his lips again. Bond released his hold on Q’s hair and slid his hand down over the expanse of pale skin on his back to grab Q’s arse.
They broke apart, panting, and Bond rested their foreheads together. Q groaned as he looked down, watching their cocks slide through their fingers, tight and slick and perfect. Bond’s hand kneaded the plush globe of one arsecheek before he skimmed his fingertips towards Q’s crack.
“Oh god, James—“
“I know,” he breathed, one finger delving down to tease at his hole.
Q dropped his head to Bond’s shoulder, keening as he thrust into their hands, desperate. Unable to resist the graceful slope of Q’s neck so close, he pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses to the pale flesh.
Q’s movements grew erratic as he climbed steadily closer to his peak, until Bond breached him with just the tip of his finger.
He came with a choked groan.
Bond held Q against him as he spilled over their fingers, shivering and gasping.
Feeling Q’s cock pulse against him was enough to bring James to the edge, but the searing flood of Q’s spunk over his prick was too much. He hissed Q’s name, breath wrung from him as he came, his thighs shaking. He kept stroking them through it, only stopping when Q whimpered against his neck, overly sensitive. They stayed curled together, slowly regaining their breath, come cooling between them.
Bond eventually loosened his grip on Q’s arse and was gently stroking his hand up his back when he felt Q’s shoulders begin to shake. He made a choked sound and James’s stomach dropped as he froze in panic—until Q tried to take a deep breath and began outright laughing.
Bond pulled back and blinked at him in surprise.
“Not quite the response I’m used to getting, but I guess I’ll take it as a compliment...”
It took a few tries for Q to form words, shaking his head.
“No-no! I was just thinking...oh my god—the next time I’m stuck on a case and someone pulls out their handcuffs—it’s going to be entirely your fault when I get a massive hard on.”
“Think about what I’ll have to tell people the next time I try to take someone into custody. Christ, can you imagine the look on Tanner’s face if someone went to HR because I popped one while cuffing a suspect?”
“I can honestly say I’ve never thought about your cock and Tanner at the same time, Bond.”
“But you have thought about it?” He asked, leaning in to kiss Q’s neck.
“Oh, constantly...” Q tilted his head back and sighed in delight at the gentle press of Bond’s lips.
He shifted against Bond and made a moue of discomfort as their cooling spend spread between them. He moved his fingers over their softening cocks, enjoying the quiet gasp James made in his ear.
“Tell me you’ve got tissues hiding nearby.”
Bond pulled away to frown at his desk before leaning over precariously to rifle through a drawer with his clean hand, triumphantly pulling out a travel pack of tissues. He made quick work of wiping them both clean. Q watched Bond tuck his prick back into his trousers before thanking him quietly as he pulled Q’s pants and jeans back up his legs. He tried to straighten his t-shirt enough to pull it back on only to hear James laugh as he struggled to get his arm in the sleeve.
“You know, now would be the perfect time to unlock these,” he said, making a point of raising his arm and violently shaking it to draw James’s attention back to their cuffed hands.
Bond infuriatingly kept buttoning his shirt up one-handed, tilting his head to the side to consider Q.
“I suppose I could do that...on one condition.”
Q narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips.
Bond abandoned his shirt and closed the distance between them. He lifted his hand to Q’s face and gently brushed his thumb over his lips.
“Let me take you to dinner.”
Q stared at him, assessing, before playfully nipping at the pad of his thumb.
“You know you don’t have to wine and dine me, Bond. In case you weren’t paying attention to what just happened, I’m kind of a sure thing.”
James smirked as he caught Q’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting his head back to stare into his changeable eyes.
“You may be a sure thing, but I’d still like to take you to dinner.”
“What...like on a date?”
Bond hesitated before he leaned in, his lips brushing against Q’s as he nodded slowly.
“Something like that,” he murmured between short, teasing kisses that Q returned eagerly until he pulled away to stare at him in confusion.
“I thought...I mean, last time, you made it clear you weren’t looking for anything.”
James kissed delicately along Q’s jaw, humming in agreement.
“So did you, if I recall correctly...”
“I—oh,” Q gasped as Bond sucked a bruise to his neck, marking the pale skin as his. “Maybe having some of the best sex of my life made me reconsider.”
James pulled away with a smug grin.
“Best sex of your life, hmm?”
“I said ‘some of.’ Like you need to add to your ego,” Q kicked him in the shin, making him laugh. “But I’m serious, Bond. I...I need to know what you hope to accomplish by taking me on an actual date and not just... I don’t know, disguised foreplay before fucking me all night.”
“Q,” Bond growled, pressing a demanding kiss to his lips.
Q groaned, his fingers trying to find purchase in Bond’s hair as he licked into his mouth. They lost themselves in the wave of renewed interest, the intoxicating slide of tongues and their roaming hands.
“Fuck, James,” Q sighed, shivering as Bond trailed his fingers lightly over his rib cage. “Wait...no, Bond—stop, I—“
Bond froze and immediately took a step back to give Q his space. Q gave James an exasperated look and grabbed the metal links connecting their wrists, trying to tug him closer.
“I meant ‘stop for a mo,’ not ‘stop touching me altogether.’” Q sighed and bit his lips together as Bond stepped back into the V of his legs. “I just...I need—“
“Intel so you’re not going in blind?”
Q huffed out a laugh and nodded.
“Something like that, yeah.”
Bond frowned, gently stroking his hands over Q’s denim-clad thighs as he considered his words carefully.
“I don’t know—and I know that’s a shitty answer, but it’s all I’ve got,” he finally said, looking up.
Q said nothing, nodding in understanding. Bond sighed but decided to just say ‘fuck it’ and put it out there.
“I’m not exactly looking for something...long-term or whatever. I’ve tried that and...” James took a deep breath. “Look, what I’m trying to say is...You’re a mouthy, arrogant, infuriating son of a bitch and I can’t get enough of you.”
“Masochist,” Q couldn’t help but smirk.
Bond laughed, leaning in to press a kiss against the corner of his mouth.
“See, that’s exactly what I mean. You’re...unexpected, Q. Even when I thought I had you figured out, you came in and just caught me completely off guard.”
Q tilted his head, confusion evident in the crease of his brow.
“How do you mean?”
Bond frowned as he tried to put it into words.
“Don’t get me wrong, I already knew not to underestimate you but, shit—you’re like nothing I’ve ever seen. You’re too fucking smart for your own good and you don’t back down when you’re challenged and you don’t know when to shut your mouth.”
Q bit his lips in an attempt to suppress his smile at the (albeit odd) praise, but he could feel the tips of his ears and the bridge of his nose growing warm. Bond leaned in and pressed his lips to the sensitive skin under Q’s ear before he continued in a whisper.
“Do you remember when you yelled at me about those ops logs? Two, maybe three weeks after you started on the case?”
Q slowly nodded, holding his breath.
“Do you have any idea just how gorgeous you are when you’re angry? I could give fuck all about ops protocol—I just wanted to keep you as pissed off as I could.”
“I knew you were baiting me, you fucker,” Q murmured.
Bond’s responding chuckle was low, a vibration against his skin.
“Your cheeks got all flushed and you kept running your hands through your hair. You looked exactly like you did when you came down my throat.”
Q shivered as Bond’s breath ghosted over the shell of his ear, the memory of that argument replaying in his mind. What he’d mistaken for arrogant amusement at the time easily translated to want as he considered how Bond had looked at him.
“You know why I practically stormed out of that room?” Bond asked, dragging his lips across Q’s cheek. “I could barely walk to the loo, I was so hard. Came almost as soon as I got a hand on myself.”
Q inhaled sharply and pulled back, gaze flickering between Bond’s eyes and mouth as he looked at him in surprise.
“You wanked in the toilets because I yelled at you?”
“Well, when you put it like that...” Bond laughed.
“God, that’s so fucking hot,” Q groaned, dropping his head to Bond’s shoulder. He managed to surface from the rush of desire long enough to press a kiss to Bond’s neck just above his collar.
They stayed like that, pressed together, until Bond sighed and threaded his fingers through Q’s hair.
“I meant it when I said I don’t mix business and pleasure, Q. But even if you hadn’t just been assisting on this case, I don’t think I’d be able to stay away from you for long. Shit, some nights I can’t fall asleep because all I can think about is what I want to do to you the next time you’re in my bed.
“I’m really not expecting anything. I'd like to get to know you, if you’re okay with that. Otherwise, we keep things casual.”
Q exhaled, breath shaky as he considered what Bond was admitting and just what he was proposing. He lifted his head to study James’s face and found a warmth in his icy eyes that surprised him.
He smiled and nodded, something spreading throughout his chest, liquid and golden.
James answered with an eager grin.
“What are you doing tomorrow night?” He asked casually, producing a small silver metal key seemingly out of nowhere. He stuck it into the lock on first Q’s cuff, then his own.
“I happen to have a date.” Q said, pulling his shirt back on.
Bond threw the handcuffs on the desk and curled both hands around Q’s waist.
“Is that so?”
Q nodded and twined his arms around Bond’s neck, enjoying being able to pull him closer.
“He’s picking me up at 1930. I’m not sure where we’re heading for dinner, but he knows I quite enjoy Thai food. Nothing over the top or upscale, of course.”
“Of course,” Bond nodded in agreement. “And after dinner? Is he taking you anywhere special—a show or the cinema?”
“I certainly hope not. Spending hours in a dark theatre not talking is hardly conducive to getting to know each other...” Bond leered and opened his mouth, but Q beat him to it. “On a personal level, not a biblical one.”
“Ah, I’m sure he’ll come up with something more than suitable.”
“I’m certain he will,” Q said, hooking his ankle around Bond’s leg and pulled him in until they were flush against each other from groin to chest. “Though, if I’m completely honest, I’ve already started thinking ahead to our second date, so the cards do seem stacked in his favour.”
“Well, he’ll try not to fuck it up,” James hummed.
Bond cupped Q’s face between his hands and brought their lips together. Q had anticipated something deliciously filthy and full of promise, but James kissed him with a tenderness that nearly took his breath away. As they separated, Bond sucked Q’s bottom lip into his mouth and grazed it ever so slightly with his teeth before letting go.
Q had to stop himself from whining as James stepped away, slowly opening his eyes to watch him finish tucking his shirt into his trousers. Attempting to talk some sense into himself and not just invite Bond back to his for the night, date be damned, he hopped off the desk and pulled his hoodie and jacket back on.
He gathered up his laptop and the stack of folders he’d marched in with and chewed on his lips, trying to keep from smiling at Bond like a besotted schoolgirl.
Q looked up to see James grinning at him as he stepped back into his space.
“You look thoroughly debauched,” he explained as he finished tugging Q’s hood out from under his jacket and attempted to tame his hair into something that didn't say 'I just had office sex.’
He gave him a rather suggestive once-over before nodding.
“Like I said, those files will keep over the weekend. You should go home and rest up... I have every intention of tiring you out tomorrow night.”
“Oh, I forgot to mention...” Q said airily as he stepped out of Bond’s clutches and walked backwards towards the door. “I don’t put out until the third date. Sorry about that.”
He grinned and turned away as Bond narrowed his eyes.
“1930. Don’t be late,” Q called over his shoulder as he left without looking back.
Bond’s resulting laugh made his stomach flip as it followed him down the hall and, for the first time in years, Q considered what it might be like to finally let someone in again.