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Notes: Written for an anonymous prompter on tumblr.
Title: never meant you any harm
Fandom: Skyfall
Pairing: James Bond/Q
Words: 842 words
Prompt: prompt: 00Q. Q and James are a couple. They have a fight and James hurt Q emotionally or physically. After all, bond want to apologize. Thank you
never meant you any harm
Q woke up in the morning with aching, swollen eyes and a message on his phone from James. He stared at his phone for several moments, then got out of bed and went for a shower.
He ignored the burning, dull ache in his chest as he stepped under the water. It was too hot and it left his skin bright red when he stepped out. Without a word, Q got dressed and ready for work.
He left his phone on the bed. The pain was still too new.
– – –
When he arrived for work, he was almost surprised by James's absence. Instead, he came in to find that James had taken some assignment overseas and had already left; an intern from Q division had seen to his equipment.
Despite the pain, Q felt the familiar burn of jealousy and worry deep in his stomach. He couldn't quite shake it no matter what he did. The entire day, he remained distracted.
Q was aware that James knew about the tracking devices that Q had on him. He was surprised but disappointed to find that James had slipped past his reach yet again. James was perfectly of disappearing, even from Q's many all-seeing eyes.
It made the pain behind his eyes grow worse. Somehow, he felt that this was entirely his fault. It wasn't, but that didn't make the illogical feeling of blame go away.
They were both to blame.
– – –
Q got home late that night. He worked until it was a struggle to keep his eyes open. He wasn't looking forward to returning to an empty flat.
Leaving his coat and bag in the front hall, Q left a trail of clothes leading to the bathroom. He really wanted a hot shower, regardless of the fact that he'd had one only that morning. It wasn't so much a shower as it was Q curling up on the floor of the shower, clutching his knees tightly to his chest and staring as the water went down the drain.
He wasn't sure why he felt so alone or why it all hurt more than it should have. There was always the chance that James could die on a mission. But they hadn't fought like this before.
Maybe Q had pushed too far. He wasn't sure. But whatever had happened while James had been in Venice had cracked something in James and Q only wanted to make sure he wasn't going to break all over again. James might have had the last word – and oh so cruel had the words he'd used been – but it took two to argue; Q knew it was just as much his fault.
The thought that maybe, just maybe, James might not come back this time – might not want to, a little voice in the back of his head said – made the burning in his eyes worse. Maybe Q cried, but he would never admit it.
– – –
After he crawled into bed with a cup of steaming tea, Q listened to the message that James had left him.
“What I said was wrong, I lost my temper. I'm sorry. It won't happen again.”
When Q tried to redial the number, he found James's phone plugged in and hidden behind the clock on the night stand. He'd known it was pointless but he tried anyway. James's answering machine greeted him and Q listened to it, hanging up without leaving a message.
There wasn't anything he wanted a machine to tell James.
– – –
The days turned into weeks and the weeks into months. There was still nothing from James Bond.
Q played the message James left every night. Then he made a phone call that no one answered.
– – –
Nearly six months after he disappeared, just when MI6 was starting to get concerned, James Bond turned up on Q's doorstep. He was bloody and bruised, but he was alive.
“You look bloody awful,” Q said as he stepped aside to let James in. “Just how many times did you get shot?”
James didn't answer his question, instead, he reached out and cupped the side of Q's face. His fingers were bloody and one of them was obviously broken, but his touch was gentle. Breath ghosting across Q's lips before he kissed them lightly, he murmured, “I'm sorry.”
Q punched him in the shoulder. Not hard, but it made James wince – though no one but Q would have noticed it. He glared at the agent, “You, James Bond, are a bloody fucking prat, you know that?”
For several seconds, they just stared at each other, but then Q sighed and wrapped his arms around James's neck in a gentle hug.
“You stupid git, it's not all your fault.” That was what Q meant to say, but instead he said, “I missed you.”
He pulled back and pressed a kiss to the corner of James's mouth, not minding the blood, “Come on, let's get you cleaned up. Honestly, I don't understand your aversion to doctors. I'm hardly qualified for this sort of work.”
I forgive you.
James smiled, one of those barely there quirks at the corner of his mouth, and squeezed Q's hand in one of his, “Thank you.”
FIN.
Title: never meant you any harm
Fandom: Skyfall
Pairing: James Bond/Q
Words: 842 words
Prompt: prompt: 00Q. Q and James are a couple. They have a fight and James hurt Q emotionally or physically. After all, bond want to apologize. Thank you
Q woke up in the morning with aching, swollen eyes and a message on his phone from James. He stared at his phone for several moments, then got out of bed and went for a shower.
He ignored the burning, dull ache in his chest as he stepped under the water. It was too hot and it left his skin bright red when he stepped out. Without a word, Q got dressed and ready for work.
He left his phone on the bed. The pain was still too new.
– – –
When he arrived for work, he was almost surprised by James's absence. Instead, he came in to find that James had taken some assignment overseas and had already left; an intern from Q division had seen to his equipment.
Despite the pain, Q felt the familiar burn of jealousy and worry deep in his stomach. He couldn't quite shake it no matter what he did. The entire day, he remained distracted.
Q was aware that James knew about the tracking devices that Q had on him. He was surprised but disappointed to find that James had slipped past his reach yet again. James was perfectly of disappearing, even from Q's many all-seeing eyes.
It made the pain behind his eyes grow worse. Somehow, he felt that this was entirely his fault. It wasn't, but that didn't make the illogical feeling of blame go away.
They were both to blame.
– – –
Q got home late that night. He worked until it was a struggle to keep his eyes open. He wasn't looking forward to returning to an empty flat.
Leaving his coat and bag in the front hall, Q left a trail of clothes leading to the bathroom. He really wanted a hot shower, regardless of the fact that he'd had one only that morning. It wasn't so much a shower as it was Q curling up on the floor of the shower, clutching his knees tightly to his chest and staring as the water went down the drain.
He wasn't sure why he felt so alone or why it all hurt more than it should have. There was always the chance that James could die on a mission. But they hadn't fought like this before.
Maybe Q had pushed too far. He wasn't sure. But whatever had happened while James had been in Venice had cracked something in James and Q only wanted to make sure he wasn't going to break all over again. James might have had the last word – and oh so cruel had the words he'd used been – but it took two to argue; Q knew it was just as much his fault.
The thought that maybe, just maybe, James might not come back this time – might not want to, a little voice in the back of his head said – made the burning in his eyes worse. Maybe Q cried, but he would never admit it.
– – –
After he crawled into bed with a cup of steaming tea, Q listened to the message that James had left him.
“What I said was wrong, I lost my temper. I'm sorry. It won't happen again.”
When Q tried to redial the number, he found James's phone plugged in and hidden behind the clock on the night stand. He'd known it was pointless but he tried anyway. James's answering machine greeted him and Q listened to it, hanging up without leaving a message.
There wasn't anything he wanted a machine to tell James.
– – –
The days turned into weeks and the weeks into months. There was still nothing from James Bond.
Q played the message James left every night. Then he made a phone call that no one answered.
– – –
Nearly six months after he disappeared, just when MI6 was starting to get concerned, James Bond turned up on Q's doorstep. He was bloody and bruised, but he was alive.
“You look bloody awful,” Q said as he stepped aside to let James in. “Just how many times did you get shot?”
James didn't answer his question, instead, he reached out and cupped the side of Q's face. His fingers were bloody and one of them was obviously broken, but his touch was gentle. Breath ghosting across Q's lips before he kissed them lightly, he murmured, “I'm sorry.”
Q punched him in the shoulder. Not hard, but it made James wince – though no one but Q would have noticed it. He glared at the agent, “You, James Bond, are a bloody fucking prat, you know that?”
For several seconds, they just stared at each other, but then Q sighed and wrapped his arms around James's neck in a gentle hug.
“You stupid git, it's not all your fault.” That was what Q meant to say, but instead he said, “I missed you.”
He pulled back and pressed a kiss to the corner of James's mouth, not minding the blood, “Come on, let's get you cleaned up. Honestly, I don't understand your aversion to doctors. I'm hardly qualified for this sort of work.”
I forgive you.
James smiled, one of those barely there quirks at the corner of his mouth, and squeezed Q's hand in one of his, “Thank you.”
FIN.
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