Promt! This time, it’s Q’s boyfriend who turns out to be one of the bad guys. (I leave everything else to you. But put Bond in it please?) – frubeto
Hope you enjoy! I will also be continuing yesterday’s prompt fill due to popular request, so keep your eyes peeled for that… Jen.
“What the fuck?”
To be fair, Bond would also have been extremely irritated if somebody kicked in his door in the middle of the night to arrest his boy or girlfriend or whatever happened to be in the bed next to him for being a very efficient undercover operative from the dregs of Spectre who had tried very hard to infiltrate MI6 and damn near succeeded.
“Thomas William Track,” Bond said sharply, not to Q. “Stand. You are being detained by Her Majesty’s Secret Service. Due to the nature of the offences your civil liberties have been suspended.”
Tom was stark naked and look absolutely terrified; Q, meanwhile, looked homicidally angry. “Seriously, Bond, what the fuck is going on? Tom?”
“This man is not who you think he is,” Bond told Q bluntly, not bothering with the small kindnesses that may just have made this easier to understand, to cope with. “He’s a spy, Q. From Spectre.”
Q felt his breathing stop, his heartbeat hiccup unpleasantly. “No. Just, no, you’ve got this wrong. I’ve done enough background checks to know…”
“… not enough,” Bond contradicted, tone verging on the actively offensive, critical. “Slipped through your net. M wants to call you in, so get dressed.”
Tom’s voice seemed somehow out of place. “Can I get dressed?”
Bond’s gaze darted to Tom, voice terrifying: “Shut up.”
“Don’t you dare,” Q hissed. “Don’t you dare talk to him like that, not until you’ve got some concrete proof.”
Wordlessly, Bond handed over a file.
Tom, meanwhile, was being handcuffed by the rest of the team who had come in with Bond. Q looked up at him, raw, just as he was pulled out the door; Tom’s expression was closed and guarded, unapologetic.
Perhaps it was something in Q’s expression, or just that Tom had gone, but Bond’s attitude seemed to somehow melt: he was not judging any more. Perhaps he realised that Q was in no way to blame. Perhaps any number of things.
“You had no idea.”
Q slid out of bed, seeming not to notice that he was equally naked. Bond had always imagined Q would be shy, reticent about such things; instead, he moved with elegant grace in his own space, beautiful in his own way. Bond had never imagined he would see Q like this.
Suddenly sensing that he was intruding, Bond glanced away, eyes falling to the floor when – almost inaudibly – he heard Q’s voice.
“No. I didn’t.”