lepidopterologist

for Q

For some time now, Harry had been considering a talk with Bond. The flirting did not go unnoticed, it seemed stronger every day. As did Q's discomfort, Harry thought, though that was also harder to judge... and Harry felt as if he were possibly the least qualified person in the world to give someone advice about this sort of thing.

Eventually, though, he decided that what he was mostly concerned about Q's wellbeing. Which he found he cared a great deal about.

He'd decided that he did want to check on Q. So he fell into step with him as they inadvertently met up on the way to home from the beach. "Good morning, Q," he said pleasantly.

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Bond was drunk, but hardly drowsy. He laid still, listening to the steady breathing of the pair. Thoughts raced through his head. He'd never been good at sharing It was easier to simply walk away. That wasn't an option here. There was nowhere to go. It forced him to face this situation and deal with it. He found, upon reflection, pickled as it was, that he did find Harry agreeable. He was a good man with a good ethic and Bond had no doubt of the man's love of Queen and Country. That was something he could respect, and, honestly, not something he got off Q. Q was a bloody anarchist in some ways. He drifted off thinking of all the ways Harry and he saw eye to eye.

Bond woke up then, hours later, and needed to pee. The pair were still asleep so he slipped out of bed quietly and went to the loo to take care of things. His head ached a bit, his brain a bit dry, he imagined. He grabbed a cup of water and came back to bed, hoping to get a bit more sleep. But when he tried to crawl back in bed the whole mattress squeaked and lurched with his weight, regardless of how quiet he was trying to be.

Bond's exit invited a cold chill, and Q murmured a protest before greedily wriggling closer to Harry to steal some of his body heat. Not yet fully awake, but not quite asleep anymore, the boffin made note of the double-o's leave and return. It was habit, really. It was simply second nature to keep track of James.

"It's too early," he complained softly.

Harry was an incredibly light sleeper. He was awake and simply feeling Q's steady heartbeat, by the time he felt Bond get back into the bed and Q stir.

"Sleep as long as you like, Q," he murmured. It wasn't as if any of them had any pressing engagements in the morning.

Bond settled back in bed in the scant space Q had left for him. He draped an arm around the boffin, less out of some desire for affection and more to hold on so he didn't topple back off the edge.

"He's not going back to sleep," Bond told Harry. "He'll grumble a bit, then get up for tea."

"Perhaps I'm planning to go into hibernation," Q retorted with a yawn. though he was coming around a little, blinking the sleep away as he looked at Harry with a soft and dopy little smile- Before rolling onto his back to look at Bond.

"Why are you up so early anyway?"

When Q moved away, Harry opened his eyes and looked up at the ceiling. Wondering, not for the first time, what he'd stepped into here. This seemed so terribly... domestic. So normal.

"Nature called," Bond said. He looked at Q with a small smile that reached his eyes while barely curving his mouth. "In my defense, I was trying to be quiet so you two could sleep."

"If you hadn't been trying to empty the bottle last night, perhaps you'd still be in bed," Q murmured, sitting up slightly and stretching lazily.

"Are you an early riser, Harry?" the boffin asked.

"I am," said Harry, and now that he knew they were no longer sleeping, immediately reached for the glasses on the nightstand and put them on before sitting up. He wasn't a vain man, but he couldn't help but be a bit self conscious.

"Though it is partly because I've subsisted on very little sleep for many years."

"Sleep is a luxury," Bond said, shifting closer to Q to steal his warmth. One hand smoothed over the boffin's stomach affectionately. "I do apologize for waking you both."

Q still seemed slightly wary of Bond's affection, like a stray cat forever waiting to be tossed back out into the cold. It wasn't something he hid well at all.

"It's alright, I need to go feed the cats soon anyway," he admitted, pawing about in search of his own glasses.

Harry glanced over at the comfortable way Bond touched him, and saw Q's reaction as well. Harry sat up and swung his legs over the bed, also trying to refrain from diverting too much of his attention to Bond. Who was wearing very little clothing. And there was no denying that was a good look on him.

"Will you come back?" he asked, "Should I make breakfast?"

"Breakfast sounds wonderful," Bond said, indulging in a long, hard stretch before getting up out of bed. He was fit, well toned, and his skin was a map of scars that spoke of a violently lived life. The most prominent one being, of course, the scar on his shoulder where he'd been shot with the depleted uranium round.

"Feed your darlings," he said. "I'll see to Jack."

"I'll be back, certainly. Breakfast sounds... Lovely," Q assured Harry, only briefly distracted by Bond's stretching.

Q was not what one might call fit. He was thin and all limbs, like a waterlogged rabbit. His skin was fair and slightly pink, and for all he had a rather enviable mop of hair on his head, the rest of him had very little. There were sparse patches here and there, but Q was mostly just smooth skin and jutting bones. His stomach was taut and lean, and when he stretched you could see the ridges of his spine and small dimples near the small of his back where his pyjama bottoms hung low on his hips.

Finding his glasses, then his feet, the boffin wriggled out of bed and pulled on a shirt. "I might take a shower as well, but I'll be quick about it."

"Don't hurry on our account," said Harry, still sitting on the edge of the bed. He realized it had been some time since he'd slept in a bed. There was no denying it was more comfortable than the couch. He wouldn't have dreamed of complaining, and he'd certainly slept in worse circumstances, but he realized that this was the first day in a long time that he hadn't woken without his back slightly sore.

Bond found some clothes and got dressed, then padded out in bare feet to take Jack outside. The pup barked and wriggled, and once outside he ran around a bit before finding a place to do his business. Bond stood waiting, yawning and stretching. He'd slept well, if briefly.

He came back inside with Jack and set him up with some breakfast, then wandered into the kitchen.

"Is there tea?" he asked. "Is the water hot?"

Harry glanced at the kettle, and then said, "Four, three, two one..." and it started to whistle.

"Now there is."

He found himself thinking that he'd rather found it easier to interact with Bond before he'd seen him nearly naked, though at least he had some clothes on now.

"I slept well," he finally said, conversationally.

"Did you? No knees or elbows in your kidneys? Lucky sod," Bond replied with a smile as he made his cup. "To be fair, we had him penned in. Usually he sprawls."

Harry picked up the kettle, and made them both cups of tea.

"I suppose it's a larger bed than I realized," Harry said. It did seem rather remarkable that they'd all fit so easily.

"Mm, yes," Bond nodded. The heat of the tea warmed his hands. He stepped back out of the way a bit. "So what's on the menu for breakfast?"

"Anything but tuna, I hope," Q quipped as he wandered back in. He'd taken a very brief shower, and his hair was still quite wet but already beginning to dry into little waves atop his head. In a red jumper and dark blue jeans, he looked even more like a schoolboy than usual, the lack of professional attire shaving several years right off him.

"Something resembling pancakes," Harry said, picking up the bowl he'd been pouring things into and beginning to beat the contents rapidly with a fork.

He wondered if this all meant Q might move back in. He'd never quite been sure if that was going to happen.

Bond looked him up and down. As young as he appeared, Bond felt as if he might go straight to hell for the attraction he felt. He moved to Q and offered him his cup of tea.

Take it. I'll make another," he said in a strangely thoughtful gesture.

"Oh, thank you, James," Q said, looking a bit surprised by the offer, but smiling as took it. He'd never turn down tea.

"Pancakes sound lovely, Harry. I do hope you don't think we're just using you for your culinary skills though," he added, moving to lean against the counter as he watched the other man work.

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