Fill for the Collab Table, a prompt from @soufflegirl91! She requested Tanner/Q, with Tanner being anxious about Q going into the field. It felt pretty right to write this as sort of a prequel to this piece from last year; I hope that’s okay! Thanks for the prompt, Souffle~
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“I’ll be fine, you know.”
“I know.”
Hand rustling beneath the covers, Q reached up and rested his fingers over Tanner’s, which were pressed into the grooves of Q’s ribs maybe just a bit too hard.
“Yes, you seem very confident,” Q’s voice teased from the darkness.
Tanner sighed, doing his best to relax the death grip he hadn’t even realized he’d tensed into. “I’m not doubting your abilities,” he said quietly.
“We’d have problems if you were,” Q replied lightly, a little muffled by the pillows.
“It’s just…”
“I’m not usually in the field.”
“You’re not usually in the field, no.”
Q sighed, squirming in Tanner’s arms until Tanner gave him enough room to roll over and they were face to face in the scant light provided by the anti-toe-stubbing nightlight. “I wouldn’t be going if this weren’t important,” Q said quietly, voice gentling into something serious.
“I know that.” Tanner resisted the urge to be petulant; as if he didn’t know Q really had to go.
“I won’t tell you that you don’t have to worry. Anything could happen.”
Tanner pressed his palm more firmly against Q’s back, causing Q to shift a little closer, and even though Tanner hadn’t realized that’s what he’d been after, it was perfect. He could feel Q’s chest brushing his as he breathed, could feel the warmth of his skin, could better see the dim light glancing off the riot of Q’s hair. Could feel him living and solid and present in their bed.
“I won’t even insult you by asking you not to let it get to you,” Q said, a bit wry. “You’re too good for that.”
A breath of amusement worked its way up and out of Tanner’s lungs. “You can’t butter me up into not being anxious about this.”
Q smirked, the dark shape of his mouth just visible on the pale of his face. “I wouldn’t dream of trying. But Bill, you know we’ve planned and prepared for this. I’ve overseen a lot of the details myself.”
Tanner nodded against the pillow, a slight movement so he didn’t knock heads with Q.
“R will be on comms, and 005 is there to do all the actual, dangerous work.”
“005 is there to watch your back,” Tanner interjected seriously.
“Multitasking,” Q countered. “But we’ve done our best. You really couldn’t ask for more on our end.”
Irrationally, Tanner wished for a moment that he would be going along. That he could keep eyes on Q, and make sure no harm came to him. He dismissed the thought; he was under no delusion that he could do something a double-oh agent couldn’t – he just wasn’t used to this. But Q was in good hands – in 005’s, in R’s, in his own.
And at the moment, he was quiet literally in Tanner’s.
No reason to waste the opportunity, Tanner supposed. He inched forward and pressed a kiss to Q’s mouth, long and soft.
“Be careful,” he breathed when they parted.
He felt Q’s answering smile against his lips. “I’ll be fine.”
Tanner wished he could feel so certain, but buried his uneasiness in the back of his mind. He had Q right now, and he would have him again when the mission was over.
Supportive Sunday is a day when we encourage you to support someone in the fandom!
There are lots of ways to do that:
Kudos something you like
A short comment (“Loved this!” or “Extra kudos!”)
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Make a rec post
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Reblog this post with a rec
As part of Supportive Sundays, we’re also highlighting four randomly chosen fancreations that have few or no comments:
00Q: Transformation, by Venstar. Summary: MI6’s ruler Queen M, sent Q, his protectors, his feline advisors and Q's true love James Bond into the future to be reborn through the power of the LEGENDARY QUANTUM OF SOLACE. Q and James can transform into the SPECIAL GUARDIANS OF MI6. They fight for love and justice, and in the name of MI6, they’ll punish you. (DON’T LOOK AT ME LOOK AWAY!!!) [Sailor Moon AU]
Rare pair: The Icing on the Cake, by Lexigent. Summary: Bakery AU. Tanner's newest hire at Patisserie M is a good call in so many ways. [Q/Tanner]
Gen: Remember, by GoodGoodLife. Summary: Q could never understand how his cold fellow employees could ever wish to remove themselves from their parents, but that was beside the point. He was an orphan in every way imaginable- mentally, and literally. And that really hurt sometimes.
Fanart: Cover Art for Plural Dragons, by lapsang_and_earlgrey.
((Day 20! Fills “Fear” on the Angst Prompt Table. I have no knowledge of medical anything I just wanted to be dramatic forgive meee. Warnings for mentions of kidnapping and injury, but this is way more comfort than hurt))
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Amidst the beeping and whirring machines stationed around the hospital bed, Tanner was likely the second-quietest thing in the room.
Q was probably the first.
Holding tightly to Q’s hand, Tanner didn’t tap his food or rustle his jacket against the chair that sounded as though it was stuffed with tissue paper or even dare to breathe too loudly, in case he missed some change in Q’s vital signs. It was silly, he knew; the sound of him sighing wouldn’t override the sound of the heart monitor if Q flatlined.
Not that he was going to, of course. Tanner was just being silly. Silly, silly… and terrified.
He couldn’t recall having been so terrified in recent memory. The destruction of their old office came close, but where his heart had set to beating faster-faster-faster when he’d seen the walls blow out, knowing that this was going to change everything, this time his heart had simply stopped cold in his chest for one beat, two, because he hadn’t known what to do at all.
The fear was still there now, coating Tanner’s ribs like ice, squeezing him, reminding him not to look away from Q’s bruised face, because the last time he let Q out of his sight, this happened.
Again, he was being silly. Q would bristle at the idea that this had happened simply because Tanner hadn’t been there to look after him.
(No, it was double-oh-fucking-five who’d been meant to be looking after Q, and perhaps no one in the service really considered Tanner a threat, but that was simply because they’d never given him reason to be one. 005 would learn. He’d learn as soon as Tanner felt like he could let go of Q’s hand.)
“It’s been ages, Q,” Tanner said quite suddenly into the stillness of the room, nearly startling even himself. “I know I’ve told you to take a lie-in when you can get it, but this is just getting ridiculous.”
Tanner tried to laugh; Q said he liked it when Tanner laughed. He found that he couldn’t quite manage it.
He’d badgered the nurses to the point of strained patience over why Q wasn’t waking yet, until the doctor had come in and explained that Q was stable, but had been sedated for the trip back to London, and would wake in his own time. He’d been through quite a trauma, after all (and besides that, no one trusted Q not to do himself further harm while being flown anywhere).
“Danger’s well through. Normally you’d have hunted down the bastards that did this and seen to their comeuppance by now,” Tanner continued, pausing to clear the rough disuse from his voice. “I used to wonder how much paperwork it would mean for me, but now I just miss that unholy gleam in your eye.”
“D’you mean it?”
Tanner jumped half a foot in his seat, startled by the rasping question that came from the bed. “Q?” he blurted, standing quickly to hover over the man lying beneath the tubes and wires.
Q groaned, brows furrowing as he ventured further into the land of consciousness. “Unfortunately,” he answered, slitting open his left eye—the right still a bit bruise-swollen—to look at Tanner. “‘lo, Bill.”
Tanner did laugh, then, so taken aback and relieved and amused by Q’s characteristically calm reaction (probably aided by the drugs they had him on), that he had to. “Hello, Q,” he said, trying to keep the smile on his face for Q to see.
It didn’t seem to work. “Y’look terrible,” Q murmured with a frown.
“Do I?” Tanner shook his head, reaching out to brush some of Q’s mussed and matted hair away from his face. “Unfortunate we don’t match, then. You look gorgeous.”
A little smirk ticked at the corner of Q’s mouth, then. “Liar,” he accused. “Wha’s wrong?”
Tanner shook his head, taking hold of Q’s hand again. “Had a bit of a shock, you know. I didn’t realize I was dating a field agent.”
Slowly, Q curled clumsy fingers around Tanner’s. “Mm. Was thinking of applying for double-oh status. Y’think I should?”
“I don’t think my heart could take it,” Tanner replied with great honestly.
Q hummed again. “Best not, then.”
“Best not,” Tanner echoed faintly.
There was silence but for the noise of the machines for a moment, before Q spoke again. “‘m not dying, am I?”
“What? No!” Tanner rebuffed the question with a little more force than he meant to. “You’re fine.”
Q’s brow twitched, as if he was trying to affect a sarcastic expression but couldn’t quite manage it. That was fair, considering how much of him was covered in bruises or bandages.
“You’ll be fine,” Tanner amended.
“You look like ‘m gonna die. Wha’s wrong, Bill?” Q pressed, awfully persistent for a man who’d been captured, beaten, shot, rescued, and drugged to the gills.
Pointing out the obvious—you were taken, you were hurt—wouldn’t cut it, Tanner knew. Even when Q wasn’t at his best, his questions demanded an answer to the very root of the problem and nothing less. Tanner closed his eyes, still clutching Q’s hand in his own, probably tighter than was comfortable for Q.
“We didn’t know what happened, or where you were. Just that you’d been taken. And the thought that– that you might have been–” Tanner shook his head, the rest coming out hushed, “I’ve never been more terrified.”
Silence again, broken into sections by the steady pulse of the heart monitor, and then Q tugged at Tanner’s hand. Tanner opened his eyes to find Q staring at him very intently, considering he only had one eye and poor depth perception with which to do it.
“C’mere,” Q demanded, and Tanner couldn’t help but oblige.
Gingerly, he sat on the edge of the bed, careful to avoid wires and tubes and any limbs he might jostle.
“I’m on a lot of drugs, I think, because I can’t feel much,” Q enunciated carefully, “but there’re no doctors swarming the room, so I’m probably going to be fine. I’m here, and I’m safe. I know I am, because you’re here.”
It was ridiculous; Q wasn’t meant to be the one comforting Tanner, it should have been the other way ‘round, and yet he could feel some of the vicious fear melting away from his chest under the force of Q’s hazy affection and reassurance.
“You will be fine,” Tanner said, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to Q’s forehead, “and I’ll stay to make sure of it. You should get some rest.”
“Mm… y’ll be here?” Q checked, even as his eye slipped shut.
“I’ll be right here,” Tanner promised.
Not a force on Earth would have pulled him away, and he stayed put on the edge of the bed, keeping watch well after Q had fallen back into a heavy sleep.
Q isn’t sure what to do with Tanner at first. He’s so used to be people either sniping at him or acting as if they’re better than him because they’re older or bigger or think they’re more experienced. Tanner doesn’t do any of those things; he’s as honest with Q as he’s able to be and seems content with Q’s company and Q is just so confused
That’s not to say that Tanner can’t be sarcastic. He’s very sarcastic and Q loves it. They’ve spent hours making dry remarks at other things, just not at each other. It’s surprisingly fun
Tanner, on the other hand, is kind of smitten with Q’s enthusiasm. It’s been a long time since he’s seen someone so openly pleased with how they get to spend their time. It helps that Q is really very good at his job, too (really, who gets to a position as high up as Tanner’s without developing a little thing for competence?)
When they’ve actually started dating, they tend to stay in more than anything. Their jobs are both very high stress and they don’t often really want to go out in public and be presentable and have to be on alert; they’re more than happy cooking dinner and watching films and things off the DVR on the couch
Q mostly cooks dinner. Tanner isn’t actually very good at cooking. He tries very hard, but he ends up burning most everything and will usually eat it anyway because he is, according to Q, a heathen. Mostly, Q assigns him easy tasks to help with because he just likes having Tanner in the kitchen when he cooks
Tanner does know the best takeaway places, though, and he’ll order in on nights when he and Q are both stuck working late, or when they’re much too tired to cook anything. He likes surprising Q with new things and is pretty excellent at guessing what Q will like
Though Tanner’s place is actually closer to work, they usually end up at Q’s house so the cats won’t be alone and because Q has a bigger bed. Why they need a bigger bed when Q usually ends up octopussed around Tanner by morning, Tanner has no idea, but it is a nice bed, he’ll admit
((Day 10! More Q/Tanner, because it is good and I would like there to be more. This is mostly silly, no particular warnings. Fills the “Blind Date” square on the Fluff Prompt Table))
Read it on Ao3
Hands down, this is the worst—the worst—blind date Q has ever been on. And he’s been on a lot of blind dates. (Hazard of being a “nice young man” who leans “that way” and has trouble finding a date because he’s just so wrapped up in his work and, really, he’s also too skinny and needs a beau to take care of him. Or something. He may or may not have visited his mother this weekend and a few of his mother’s friends may or may not have descended on him. It may or may not have been a little traumatizing, but he does have an entire loaf of challah bread in his fridge now, so there’s that.)
He’s been on dates with men who were absolutely boring before, and he’s been on dates with men who, frankly, frightened him on a sort of visceral level (and if those particular men suddenly found that Q had disappeared altogether, becoming unsearchable through any electronic device they owned, well – actually, Q would absolutely take credit for having done that, because it’s an excellent bit of code), but this one is just sort of damaging his faith in humanity. And he sort of needs that faith in humanity because he’s supposed to protect it. (Well, maybe not humanity on the whole, but he should at least have faith in the people of his country. That’s important. He needs that. And this guy is definitely putting a dent in that.)
“Of course, any man of mine would need to stay home with the children. My career is too important to give up.” The man—whose name is… Ch-something? Chad?—is droning on.
“Sorry, what children?” Q sincerely hopes Chad—no, Chaz?—hasn’t already procreated.
“Oh, the children, you know.” Chaz or maybe Charlie waves his hand vaguely, taking a sip of his pretentiously French wine, “We would get married and then find a surrogate to birth a few children.”
Q cocks his head, doing his damnedest not to let on how quietly horrified he is by the turn the conversation has taken. “Would we?”
“Well, not we. I don’t mean to be presumptuous.” Charlie (Charles? He could be a Charles) grins in a way that suggests he actually does mean to be presumptuous.
“Of course.” Surreptitiously, Q slides his phone from his pocket, “Why surrogacy, if I may ask? Why not adoption?”
Possibly-Charles or Possibly-Chip frowns, as if Q has just uttered something nonsensically offensive. “Well then the child wouldn’t be mine, now would it?”
Good fucking God. “And you wouldn’t want your husband to donate genetic material?” Under the table, Q begins tapping out an SOS to Tanner on his phone. (Christ but he loves being able to text without looking.)
“I suppose.” Chip-but-could-also-be-Chet shrugs, “The first one would have to be mine, though.”
“Of course.” Q nods pleasantly, employing the same demeanor he puts on when there are useless bureaucrats hanging about Q branch and being distracting and he’s not allowed to do mean things to them, “And I suppose your future husband will need to be able to cook and clean?”
“Well, certainly. It goes with taking care of the children, doesn’t it?” Chip—or, oh! Chandler! Maybe.—smiles a little too brightly for Q’s liking, “Do you like to cook?”
Q is beginning to wonder why his text hasn’t yet been answered. While talking about the sheer number of unfortunate blind dates Q has been on, Tanner had casually offered to help Q out if he needed it (not by going on a date with Q or anything silly like that, of course, although that would have alleviated the problem, Q just wants to point out); they had agreed that Q would send an SOS and promptly receive a call informing him of an emergency that would require his immediate and full attention and he would be able to duck out of his terrible date. Why he keeps bothering with dates when he ends up on enough terrible ones to warrant the forming of this system, he hasn’t the foggiest. He then realizes that Chandler, or maybe it was just Chance, was still waiting for an answer. “Sometimes, I do. Cooking is the best kind of chemistry, really – your results are generally edible.”
“I suppose.” Chance, or hell, maybe Chauncey nods in a way Q has quickly learned means he’s not actually listening or interested, “You know, I do like you. I know I may seem like an old-fashioned sort of fellow, but I don’t adhere to every tradition…”
Q is, by now, both incredibly wary and ready to simply jump from his seat and declare the date over, regardless of how rude it would be. “Is that so?”
“Oh, yes,” Could-be-Chauncey-or-Chase purrs, leaning forward to put his sweaty hand over Q’s (and why is Q’s hand even still on the table, really? What is he doing? Why hasn’t he just leaned back in his seat in a visible effort not to be near his date?), “All that silly claptrap about… not being intimate before marriage. I’ve never gone in for that.”
Oh for God’s sake, could this grown man not even say sex? If Q were to actually follow him to bed (if, IF), would the dirty talk involve the word willy? Q almost shudders to think of it. Also, his backup is near certainly not coming, which is highly disappointing and a little worrying because Tanner always comes through, so Q is preparing to tell – Chuck? Whatever – that he absolutely does believe in waiting until marriage (which is… a big, huge lie really, but he expects it’ll be enough to get him out of the situation) and that he’s offended it would even be suggested. On the first date. Really.
But just as he’s about to do that, he sees someone he really didn’t expect to see at the restaurant that evening.
Not that he was really expecting to see anyone but his date at the restaurant that evening, but he most certainly wasn’t expecting to see Tanner weaving around the tables, looking harried and being trailed by the maître d’.
“So sorry to interrupt.” Tanner says breathlessly, “I know you said you didn’t want to be disturbed tonight, sir.”
Oh. Sir. Either Tanner’s going all out or the world really is ending. “It’s alright. What’s wrong?” Q prompts him, trying so hard not to laugh that he’s pretty sure he looks rather severe.
“There’s an emergency. You’re needed immediately. I hate to pull you away, but…” Tanner trails off meaningfully.
“No, I understand. Let’s go. It was… lovely, meeting you.” He turns a stressed sort of smile on… Chester! He was almost sure that was it – on Chester as he stands and rounds the table, “Thank you for dinner, Chester.”
Chester frowns. “My name is David.”
“Oh.” Q blinks, “Terribly sorry.”
He and Tanner are out of the restaurant and down the street before they start laughing. “You forgot his name?” Tanner snickers.
“He didn’t deserve to have his name remembered. He was ghastly.” Q insisted, “All he wanted was a little wife with a cock.”
This just starts Tanner’s laughter anew. “I’m serious!” Q huffs, though he’s really still laughing himself, “I think he was sizing me up for an apron.”
“Oh, poor dear.” Tanner pats him with not-completely-false sympathy and puts his arm around Q’s shoulders (and Q is abruptly reminded of the fact that Tanner is taller than him, and that being under his arm feels very nice).
“Oh, sod off.” Q snips, though he leans into Tanner’s side, “Why are you here, anyway? A phone call would’ve sufficed.”
“I thought my appearance would lend a certain urgency to the situation.”
“Come off it, you just wanted to see me in this getup, didn’t you?”
Tanner teases him ceaselessly about his wardrobe, because Q is honestly actually quite fashionable, thank you very much, but in a world of spies in bespoke suits, he doesn’t really seem like it. The fact Q had dressed in a pressed suit for his date had amused Tanner a great deal.
“It was a bonus.” Tanner admits, glancing down at Q, “You look very handsome.”
“I–” Q fishes for a suitably snappy comeback and really only comes up with a strangled, “Thank you.”
Tanner hums quietly. “Well. Now that I’ve interrupted your dinner–”
“Rescued me from my terrible date.” Q corrects.
“–it only seems right that I should feed you.”
Q blinks. Thinks. “No.” He says after a moment.
“Oh.” Tanner tenses, moves to draw away from Q, and Q reaches up quickly to grab his wrist and keep his arm wrapped around his shoulders.
“You did me a great favor this evening. I’ll pay for dinner.”
“Oh.” Tanner says again, and neither argues nor tries to disentangle himself from Q as they walk, “You know it wasn’t an entirely selfless favor, don’t you?”
“I gathered.” Q grins, and angles his shoulders so it’s just a bit less awkward to walk with Tanner’s arm draped over him.
(It’s still a little awkward, but in a nice sort of way, so they don’t stop.)
((First post for 007 Fest! This was written to fill the “Curses” space on the General Prompt Table. Disclaimer: I just picked all the insults off a list, I don’t know anything about Shakespeare and I’m very sorry))
Read on Ao3
He wasn’t really doing in on purpose; he didn’t need to sound like any more of a posh twat, after all. It was just – well, the Bard was just very catchy.
Q hadn’t paid Shakespeare a great deal of attention in school; the plays had been interesting enough, but not relevant to his interests, and so he’d relegated them to the back of his mind until Bill Tanner happened.
Bill Tanner, who was the sort of person who didn’t seem to belong at the top of an international spy agency food chain, who was calm and affable and even kind, who was loyal and willing to help, but who could most certainly become cold and hard and determined when the situation called for it. Tanner, who remembered to bring Q food when he spent long shifts down in Q branch, and who would sit and eat with him and make sure he had some measure of human contact, and who would continue sitting with him even though his shift was well over and he could have been at home but was instead just talking to Q. Tanner, who came to visit Q regularly when he moved the entirety of Q branch to a new, highly inconvenient location, and who was interested in Q’s projects, and who liked to watch him work.
Tanner, who apparently loved Shakespeare.
And Q just wanted to have something a little more in common with him, a little more to talk about. It was lovely when Tanner let him babble on about his work, but it felt a little one-sided at times. But Q knew Tanner loved Shakespeare, so he bought himself the collected plays and got to work.
It wasn’t difficult to understand them, nor to memorize them; his memory was eidetic, and what he read, he remembered. No, the trouble wasn’t digesting Shakespeare, it was what happened afterwards.
“You poisonous bunch-backed toad.”
“Excuse me?”
Q’s head snapped up, and he realized that he had, in fact, hissed that curse out loud as he was typing. And Tanner was standing right there. With food.
“Nothing.” Q shook his head quickly, “Just getting frustrated with this program.”
Tanner nodded sagely, giving Q a hopeful little smile and lifting the bag of takeaway in his hand. “Good time to break for dinner, then?”
Q didn’t have to think long. The program would still be there to frustrate him after he sat down to a good meal (or even a substandard meal, as long as the company was as good as it always was).
After that, they just kept slipping out. He sent 005 out of his office after hearing the man’s excuses for his missing equipment and caught himself muttering, “More of your conversation would infect my brain.”
Tanner, who had drawn the short straw and been by to remind 005 to do his post-mission paperwork, had snorted inelegantly and left Q’s office with a grin.
When looking over a mission dossier Tanner had brought by with lunch, Q had proclaimed the target of the mission unfit for any place but hell, which had Tanner nodding in bemused agreement.
A particularly frustrating bug was dubbed a lump of foul deformity, Bond became a damned and luxurious mountain goat for one very trying evening, and Q had Tanner cracking up by the time he was raging in his office over a meeting gone sour and cursing M as “whoreson zed, thou unnecessary letter” (altogether a more literal meaning than was meant to be taken from its source, but it just fit so well).
“I had no idea you were such a fan of Shakespeare.” Tanner chuckled.
“I’m not.” Q huffed, dropping down into his chair.
Tanner’s expression fell a bit, something like confused or disappointed. “Oh. I just thought…”
“Oh, no, I only meant–” Q scrambled, wondering if there was any way he would come out of this not sounding creepy, “Well, no, I’m not a huge fan, but you are, and I… just sort of brushed up on his works so we’d… so we could talk more. I suppose it just stuck a bit more than I realized.”
It was a deliberate downplay, Q knew full well he remembered every word he’d read, but there was no need to come off any weirder than he already had, and Tanner’s face was doing something else now that Q couldn’t quite decipher, not that he’d ever been very good with facial expressions, but – “Would you like to get dinner sometime, Q?”
Q blinked. He opened his mouth, and Tanner quickly added: “A date. Would you like to go on a date?”, rightly assuming that Q had been about to point out that they had dinner together frequently.
Q suddenly couldn’t think. Was there some Shakespearean reference he could make here? Would that even be appropriate? “Yes.” He settled on, finally, “I would like that very much.”
Tanner grinned then – and that, at least, Q understood perfectly.
it’s not that Q and Tanner WOULDN’T get kinky in the bedroom, it’s just that they’re both Toppy Bastards and thus generally leave kink out of their sex life for the sake of avoiding arguments about it.
