There You Are

Title: There You Are
Author: Genna Gray
Fandom: Bond - Skyfall verse
Pairing: Bond/Q
A/N: A snippet I wrote to add in whenever I get around to finishing up this NANO

     Q frowned down into the pot of...what should have been beans to go with the toast but it was a rather burnt, disgusting mess of food that he doubted even that slob of a cat James owned would eat - and that creature from some unknown abyss of hell would eat every and anything it could fit into its mouth when it was even remotely hungry.
     "What's got you so fussy?" James murmured into Q's ear as tan arms wrapped around his middle, hands rucking up the dress shirt Q had shrugged on, and his chin rested on Q's shoulder. "What was that supposed to be?"
     "...Beans." Q said flatly and Bond shuddered. "James."
     "I...see." James choked out and Q valued his Mate in holding in the laugh that clearly wanted to escape - neither Serena and Roger had kept their laughter to themselves. [And they stilled laughed when they heard him attempting to cook.] "What do you think about eating out then?"
     Q pursed his lips and tried to stir the concoction that was the mess of beans - it was like stirring cement after it had dried out.
     "I...think that is a brilliant idea." Q decided and James pressed a kiss into his neck before reaching forward and removing the pot off the stove. "James."
     "Come along Dear," James tugged at Q and pulled him gently along back towards the bedroom. "Let's get dressed, we will have time to get to a little place I know that does the best breakfast bread - but only I you get there early enough."
     Q hadn't kept much at James' place, enough for a few changes, since James had a tendency to change his flats - in case of being spied upon or followed by enemies of the Queen - wholesale and while Q's clothes might not be the best clothes they were still his and Q didn't want to see them abandoned because James was too paranoid.
     James hated in being called paranoid - said it was a misleading label, that he was being properly cautious and that he could be worse.
     Q shuddered to think of James being worse.
     "I didn't pack any scarves," Q eyed his reflection in the bathroom suite's mirror where he had been finishing up; the hickeys on his neck, no matter how faint James made them, always stood out like bruises with his pale skin. Normally Q wore a turtleneck but it was too warm for that and scarves would have to do but Q had forgotten it at work. "It's draped over that chair."
     "I think it looks fetching," James told Q cheerfully from where he leaned against the door-jamb, his casual polo and slacks doing wonders for the thickening frame - Q was relieved to see that James was finally putting on weight after so many weeks of being scarily skinny from the weeks of lack James had dealt with.
     If it wasn't for the fact that Devereux was dead, deeply and painfully dead, Q would kill him all over again for the torture his Mate had undergone under his hands.
     "You would say so," Q shook off his thoughts. "I look like a chew toy for some canine."
     "Well, you are a chew toy," James smirked at Q and held out his hand. "Mine."
     Q smiled as he took James' hand, turning the offered hand over until his tanned wrist was bared and Q's name was bare for all to see. Q allowed James to use his free hand and turned Q's wrist so they were bare side-by-side, the names perfectly sized and perfectly theirs. [Both he and James refused to cover up their Soul-Marks - they would not be ashamed of each other - and they only allowed it when James would go on missions for MI6.
     They were Soul-Mates, true enough, and loved each other but above that they were loyal to Queen and Country - and they each had unique skills that would serve Her best and they would with the best of their abilities, no holds barred.
     Because that was who they were.]