#tempusfugit007

[dontstoptrying]

@tempusfugit007​ cont. from [x]

he’s immediately under her arm, shifting her weight entirely onto him but allowing her the autonomy to move. he’s just being the support that she needs, hands kept politely onto her clothes and visible.

he shrugs, “i was in the area.”

it had been a fluke that he showed up at all, having been in another country entirely when he found out her situation. he’s sure he’ll get in trouble for going rogue but he is also sure that m will not mind in the slightest as long as she is brought back in one piece.

around them lay the still bodies of her captors, all having deaths that were far too quick but the damage done to them making them unrecognizable. for this case and this case alone, bond doesn’t mind that his suit is covered in blood.

If she wasn’t in quite so much pain she might have laughed at the blatant lie. His case file had, of course, landed on her desk before she’d been sent into the field. Questions about whether he’d bothered completing his file briefly crossed her mind, but that hardly mattered right now. “I’m glad,” she replied, genuinely grateful. Not that she didn’t expect MI6 to send someone else to rescue her - but James had managed to get there first.

“How did you know where to find me?” Probably bullied someone in Q Branch into giving him the location, knowing him, but she needed to talk to keep her mind off the excruciating pain in her left leg. 

She briefly took in the damage James had done but averted her eyes soon after, choosing to focus on him instead. He might be used to that level of butchery, but even without the time behind a desk she wasn’t. Clean and simple was how she preferred it, but what was done was done. “Sorry about the suit,” she added with a weak, but still slightly wry, smile.

[q-uartermaster]

 @tempusfugit007​

Almost a whole year ago, Q would do Bond what he had thought was the last favor he would ever ask of him. He handed the agent the keys to his beloved Aston Martin, road off into the sunset with his beautiful Dr. Swann and went on to live the normal life he had never thought he would be able to have. That’s what Q had at least thought.  

Almost a whole year ago, Q’s entire world changed, too. He was heartbroken and lost. But most of all he was angry. Q initially hated Bond for using him. After awhile, Q started to hate himself for letting Bond use him, because he should have known better than to fall in love with double-o-seven. He had told himself he had control over whatever arrangement was going on between them. That arrangement being sex, sometimes stitches and the occasional witty banter over a drink. But in the aftermath of things, it was clear he didn’t have control in the slightest. Q had fallen for James Bond. Despite the various warnings from Eve and his own subconscious, despite the lengths of time Bond would disappear, despite the feelings of jealousy he had fought back after knowing he was  sleeping with other people. But Bond had never promised Q anything. They had never even been on a ‘proper date.’ Q didn’t have the right to be angry with Bond. He could only blame his own bloody self. And Q did blame himself. 

Almost a whole year ago, Q thought he had said goodbye to James Bond forever. But there Bond was, again. Standing before his desk, like he had so many times before. Except things had not been anything like the way they had been before.  

Q could feel his chest tighten and his heart lurch up into his throat at the sight of Bond. He had to look back down at the laptop screen, even though he couldn’t focus on what was displayed. His body was beginning to betray him and he wasn’t even in love with James Bond anymore. He really wasn’t. In the most even tone he could manage, he said, “Well… how did she run? The car, I mean.” Q attempted to sound aloof, but couldn’t control the coldness that had slipped into his voice. 

[thenameisq]

@tempusfugit007​

Espionage, it’s not the field of work for the faint of heart, each day brings with it an unrivaled chaos. It’s days that overlap each other and never find an end, and it’s living with the realities of the world that the general masses never see, realities that keep you up late into the night. But as a whole they make a difference, they protect the innocent and subdue the wicked. 

Day had come and gone only to bring with it another and though Q branch was located within one of the lowest levels of the building Q found himself atop the roof, the suit he’d come to work in yesterday still worn on his back, his eyes touched lightly with a shade of red due to lack of sleep. But the sun was rising, bringing with it a new day, the soft hue illuminating his tired features as he brings his cigarette up to take a drag from it, a habit few know he possesses.

 His exhale is reminiscent of a sigh as he night seems to float away with it. It’s just then as he watches the vapor float away that he realizes he isn’t alone. His green eyes find Bond’s blue and he swallows. “007.” He nodded a soft greeting delivered with a tired tone. 

[dontstoptrying]

❛ Are you okay? Did they hurt you? ❜

“I think I am,” though her smile was less than convincing. That was hardly surprising with how battered and bruised she was. It didn’t feel like there was any permanent damage though, that was what mattered most. She winched slightly as she stood up, finally putting weight on her foot. “I might need a hand though,” she added, shifting her weight again to get rid of the pain.

“Thank you for finding me.” That came with a sincere smile, even through the pain.

[were-up-against-them-all]

@tempusfugit007

Danny had noticed the man watching him. It wasn't even the paranoid awareness he had gained in the wake of everything that had happened. It was a more subtle awareness. Just that feeling of eyes on you. Something he had picked up as a kid trying to survive. The paranoia told him the man's motives may be sketchy; at least, sketchier than looking for a quick fuck. Well, Danny had never been anything if not bold. So he went and sat next to him at the bar, feeling severely underdressed next to the immaculately dressed man in his own thin, grey, woolen jumper and well worn-in blue jeans. Mildly, he commented, "The ale here is excellent, and they make a good black and tan."

[dontstoptrying]

[text] I’m not sure she knows my name. She introduced me as “the fuck toy”

[text] Oh dear.

[text] I mean, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t laugh. But oh dear.

[text] do you know HER name??

[dontstoptrying]

@tempusfugit007​ cont. from here

It never ceased to amaze her how James could look as at home in such a... raucous bar as he did in a tuxedo. She turned away briefly, eyeing the trouble near the pool table before turning her attention back to James. Nothing she needed to worry about, just the usual drunken fights. The fact that she was drawing attention hadn’t gone unnoticed either (apparently not a bar to come to straight from work), but she was hardly concerned given her training.

She smiled slightly when he kicked the chair out and proceeded to sit down, putting her handbag between her feet. “I’m not surprised, it doesn’t look particularly pretty.” Though if anyone could pull off a black eye and broken ribs it was, of course, James Bond. “Is this your usual pub?” It didn’t seem likely, but she knew better than to pretend she knew what to expect from him.

[dontstoptrying]

‘ what the hell’s going on? ’

A gruff greeting, but she supposed she couldn’t have expected any different showing up on his doorstep. She’d heard through the grapevine (and the debriefing file that had been dumped on her desk) that his last mission had been a rough one, and she wanted to see for herself what sort of state he was in given he had barely shown his face at work.

“Just wanted to pop by and say hi,” a slightly flimsy excuse, she knew, but she’d been worried, “I got myself some Chinese for dinner if you want some.”