heroichearts | (no subject)

When Q found himself on 004's bad side (worse side, worst side?), it had been like a lightning bolt of fear through him, a sudden knowledge that Q was in danger, like they were in the same room and could hear his frantic cursing. Bond hadn't given it a second thought, hauling himself down to QBranch, pulling the wayward 00 from his victim, and putting up a resoundingly one-sided fight (given the tactical stabbings 4 had already received).

Hadn't given it a second thought, but in the hours since, he's given it plenty of thought. And plenty of thinking that he's not going to bring this up. It's not allowed, if it's what he presumes this is, not for people like him, like the both of them.

He gives voice to none of it, later, when he's out and about with only a few scuffs and bruises to his name. Could call Q, he supposes. Text him. But he finds that he doesn't need to, and if he was still in doubt as to what this is, he isn't any longer. Tracks him down, not by any of his usual means, but simply knowing where he is, down some side street alley, practically a hole in the wall of a cafe he doesn't think he's ever heard of before.

He knows Q's here.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"No." And that's the end of that. There will be no breaking this off, and the force of how much he means it reverberates between them.

It's very rarely calm in his head, and Q doesn't need to be subjected to that. But they can take care of themselves through this. He looks up at last.

"Alright." Q wants to keep this connection between them. It feels right, but he also knows that's the general nature of such things.

"I didn't want to lose you, either. It just, I like knowing that you're alive."

"I generally like that, too," he snarks. "And I like knowing you're not getting thumped by a prick who should know better. Do you want--" hands and balm and smoothing over skin and gentle care "--any help with all your aches yet this morning?"

Yes, he does want and it's obvious to Bond, but it doesn't show on his face. "Aren't we trying to stay at least vaguely professional? I, ah, I wouldn't ask that of anyone I work with."

Then again, he's not asking; Bond is offering.

"Are we? We aren't exactly on the clock right now. What were you going to do, twist yourself about to rub at all your bruises?" They're already close, aren't they? Bonded in some fashion; that means something.

Unless they deliberately decide it doesn't. Always an option.

"I've overstepped," he surmises, pulling his hand away.

"No, no, you haven't. I've gotten into the habit of trying to keep myself closed off." He doesn't want to drag Bond into something he doesn't want. Q shakes his head, as if he ever could do that.

"I've some arnica-based slime that ought to do the trick."