“You Took My Shirt?”
The shower turned off. The bathroom was heavily fogged, with humid heat trapped inside the small room. It could’ve easily been mistaken as a sauna if it were for the toilet and sink. His eyes scan through the fog to find the clothes he had set down earlier, but as far as his old eyes could see, they were gone. He isn’t sure if he’s getting old, but he was certain he placed it on the sink counter in a messy pile. He even remembers shrugging at it because he couldn’t find the effort to put them in a nice pile.
It must be his mind. He’s growing old, just like Q says he is.
With a sigh, he snatches a towel off the towel rack and pulls it around his waist as he leaves the bathroom to ask Q for a shirt. When the door opens, cold air immediately passes his cold body, and he has to make the effort not to visibly shiver.
“Q, have you––” God he didn’t even get to finish his sentence before looking on the bed to see Q with his shirt.
To be more specific; he saw Q, curled up on the bed with his grey shirt in his arms. His face is buried within the fabric, taking languid breaths in of the smell. Most likely James’ God awful cologne that Q claimed to have despised but apparently this sight contradicted everything.
“You took my shirt?” James raises an eyebrow. He was about to take a step forward, but his body froze upon seeing the carpet of legos laid upon the floor. James does and doesn’t want to know how the hell.
“You’ll never take it from me!” Q actually hissed at James, backing himself up against the pillows and only gripping the shirt closer to him. James is utterly confused.
“Where did you even get this lego!?” He exclaimed as his arms opened out to the legos on the floor. He doesn’t ever recall buying legos in the first place. He swears, if Q went out of his way to drive to the store, buy the legos and dumped them onto a mess for the thirty minutes he was in the shower, he’s going to murder the man. But James isn’t that stupid – fortunately. He can’t believe he’s doing this, but he kneels down, and pushes aside all the pieces that would’ve sent him all the way to his grave if he had stepped on one of them. He’s an agent, but nobody can endure having those little devil pieces dig into your skin.
He managed to make a small pathway to the bed, and proceeded to pounce on the mattress. His weight made the mattress shift, and also made Q squeak. The double-oh crawled over, in between the Quartermaster’s legs. He was practically looming over the boy at this point, with James’ hands pressing against the headboard.
“I believe you owe me something,” he whispered huskily. He’s close – close enough to have Q be a flustering mess. Without a single word, he handed him the shirt. And James, with a satisfied smile, took it, and climbed off the bed to disappear back in the bathroom.
• • •
“Where did you even get all the legos from?”
“Just because I develop weapons for you reckless arses doesn’t mean I can’t have my down time.”
“What did I ever do to deserve you.”
• • •