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Its about noon when it happens; though the time really doesn't have anything to do with it. Though one could suppose that having been up on a mission for roughly 52 hours makes any stressful situation that much worse. Q is sleeping soundly on his stomach, dark curls crowding around an almost too pale face. A face flushed with sleep and warmth of a strong body pressed close against him. A strong arm was thrown over the narrow back and shoulders of the quatermaster, a bandage buffering the skin to shirt contact. It was a peaceful scene between the agent and quatermaster, one that they don't get to enjoy often.
It started with a sound of something being knocked over, possibly a forgotten water glass or a left over mug. That easily could have been excused as Zuse; Q's tabby, moving with the same clumsy grace as his owner. What did wake the pair was the sound of that very object being picked up and set back on the surface it came from, followed by a hushed squabble.
The arm draped over the brunette tensed, pausing as if waiting to consider the next course of action. Shifting, the hand cupped around his ribs moved and shifted to run down his side then moved from around his hip to the small of his back. Q shifted as sleepy eyes struggled to open against the heavy tiredness that seemed to have settled in. He lifted his head when he felt the double oh silently shifted out of bed. As the younger man reached for his glasses, he heard the other retrieve the gun that he kept in the side drawer.
"James?" Q mumbled, propping himself up as he slowly woke up. He watched those arctic eyes move from the gun to him; a wave of protectiveness lingering in those eyes. It never ceased to amaze him how menacing the man could look in just his pants. Though he always did look stunning without trousers. Watching him head for their closed bedroom door, shoulders squared as he tried the handle gently before slipping into the small hallway.
Once alone, the young brunette threw the covers back as he was never one to be treated like a damsel in distress. This was his flat for christ sakes and he would be damned if he would just sit by! Q crept out of his room, knowing exactly where he left his mobile so he could ring headquarters if need be. From there he would do what he could to assist Bond, though he was well aware that most times Bond could handle it himself.
"Afternoon boys, is there something I can help you with?" Bonds confident tones rang through the silence of the room. Pausing just to the left of the door way to the living room, he held his breath as he waited for the right moment.
"Ah, well I could ask you the same thing," Came a familiar imperial drawl. "I distinctly don't recall a ex military commander living here last I visited."
Before Bond could even respond to that, Q rounded the corner and saw two people he rather have replaced by burglars. Hell, he would have been happier to have walked into to see several trained assassins in his living room then the two men he saw there glaring at Bond.
"What the bloody hell are you lot doing here?!" Q demanded, all eyes turning to look at him. A part of Q was amused to see Bond hadn't lowered his gun, the tense hold in his shoulder never loosening. The agent shifted his position however, keeping himself wedged between him and the men invading the flat.
"Now now, is that any way to treat your older brothers?" Mycroft tutted, tapping his umbrella against the toe of his dark leather shoe. Dressed in an impeccable three piece suit, he oozed his normal arrogant self confidence that comes with every member of the Holmes family. Standing in just his sleep clothes and functioning on not enough sleep, Q felt anything but confident. With being the youngest brother of two such as Sherlock and Mycroft it was difficult to. It wasn't helping any matters that Bond was openly staring at him in question, clearly unsure on if these two men were a threat or not. Giving the double oh a stiff nod; he watched him slowly lower his gun before he turned his attentions back to his brothers.
"The hell with that!" Q near seethed, trying to keep his cool as he watched Sherlock dissect Bond with his cold eyes. "Now get out Bond!" he demanded, trying to regain some composure. He refused to have someone he cared for be dissected by his merciless brothers. Not that Bond wouldn't be able to take it, it was Q who wasn't sure if he could take it.
"Really little brother? Kicking out your darling boy because of us?" Sherlock mocked, arching a devilish eyebrow at him. Clenching his fists, he watched Sherlock unwrap his scarf and shrug out of his coat in a display to show he was going no where. This movement from his brother seemed to encourage Bond not to heed his quartermasters request and stay exactly where he was. This was proving to be a dreadful wake up call and all Q wanted to do was go back to bed to sleep for the next several hours.
"Though I must say, I always pictured you to have a taste for older men" Mycroft flippantly remarked, an annoying knowing look on his face.
"MYCROFT!!" Q exclaimed sharply, a dark blush creeping around his ears and across the bridge of his nose. All three men paused in mild surprise at the outburst from the normally calm hacker. But Q was anything but calm right now, his chest heaving in how clearly distressed he was.
"My apologies dear Quentin" Mycroft murmured, trying to smooth ruffled feathers. However this didn't have any sort of calming effect on the brunette what so ever.
"Quentin?"
"Bond. Don't" Q tersely warned, pushing up his glasses so he could pinch the bridge of his nose. A strong headache was brewing and the amused noise Sherlock made wasn't helping. Having had enough, he grumbled under his breath about annoying family then turned and left for his kitchen. Tea. Tea fixed everything and there was never a moment he needed a cup more then he did right now. Perhaps the time he had lost track of Bond in the middle of a very dangerous mission out in China. That had been a complete mess, but so was this just on a different level.
While he filled his kettle and switched it on, he grabbed down one of his favorite mugs before taking up a bag of Earl Grey. Tired eyes stared intently at the kettle as he recited codes in his head to calm himself down. Once he was halfway through reworking the security codes he would have to change in his flat after this he heard someone enter the kitchen.
"Well, that was quite the display" Sherlock remarked as he walked behind Q to beside him, retrieving a mug for himself.
"What can I say, I learned from the best after all" Q quipped, not removing his gaze from the simmering kettle. Slender fingers were tense and white knuckled as he gripped his mug. Only Sherlock would come and bother him before he had rightfully calmed himself down.
"How are things in the office? You know even Mycroft doesn't know exactly what it is you do... infuriating really..." The older Holmes lamented softly.
"You know I can't tell you" Q sighed, moving his hands to flatten against the marble counter. So small talk it is then; which meant Sherlock was here as a distraction while Mycroft grilled James. Normally it would be the other way around but he was glad Sherlock knew when to back down a little. Maybe this Dr Watson was good for his brother in more ways then one.
"Yes, but it doesn't stop me from asking," the detective paused, "He isn't work...that Bond Mycroft is trying but failing to speak to, not exactly."
"No, not exactly... again Sherlock."
"You can't tell me but... he works along side you but in a different fashion although he relays on you and trusts you completely, which seems to be an issue of his in a professional and personal level. You've only just started sleeping together after he pursued you despite knowing the risks pertaining your jobs and the vast age different... sixteen years?" Sherlock deduced, letting out part of what he was no doubt struggling to keep in.
"Fourteen actually... and yes he pursued me but I wasn't very hard to convince..." Q replied, watching the kettle bubble then shifted towards the coffee press where Bonds strong Colombian coffee was kept. Going through the motions, he felt his brothers gaze on him the whole time. Their age differences weren't as vast as it was between him and Mycroft so growing up they had been a little closer. Both genius in their own right, Sherlock was there to help him feel like less of a freak.
"No I imagine not" Sherlock smirked, flicking off the kettle and tending to the teas while Q was busied with the french press. "What I don't understand is why you are so upset that we're here... you should have expected us coming as you haven't checked in... and you know how Mycroft gets"
"Unlike you Sherlock I cannot function beyond 52 hours with no rest..." Q murmured, drawing his Scrabble mug towards himself. It had been a gift from Sherlock actually, back when he first left for Uni as a parting gift. It was funny how it applied to not just his name now but his title as his name had to be forsaken for Queen and Country. It was how he was able not to lose sight of himself in the world he had now been drawn into.
Earning a huff in response, he watched Sherlock fix his tea as Q finished the coffee for Bond. Sherlock moved about the kitchen like he owned it, knowing where everything was and even where the milk was in the fridge. It was odd watching his brother fix his own tea however, as at one point in time it was a skill he didn't possess. Not that there was a particular talent in making tea, very good tea yes but for general consumption not so much.
"That doctor of yours is quite good for you... I would like to meet him and that Detective Inspector as well.... since we seem to be getting into the habit of meeting each others lovers..." Q murmured distractedly, adding a splash of milk to his drink before sipping. He grinned around his mug as he heard a sharp intake of air come from the door way, Mycroft having chose this moment to come check on the two.
"Was no one to know that dear brother?" Q asked softly, his voice now calm as it was his turn. He could now act like the bratty little brother they tend to treat him as. "Oh dear me; I'm ever so sorry Myc... phones are such fickle things... so easy to hack if not for the proper software...then again what do I know?" he chided, still not turning to face his presumably red faced elder brother.
A deep chuckled sounded behind him as a strong firm hand rested on the small of his back as Bond reached around him for his coffee. Flushing at the kiss of thanks to his neck, Q smiled and surmised the conversation between the two elders hadn't resulted in James shooting Mycroft. What pleased him the most now was hearing a surprised sound Sherlock made when figuring out something painfully obvious and turned to Mycroft.
"Quentin you will not hack my phone, you are no longer twelve so it isn't tolerated anymore" Mycroft growled as Sherlock started to spout off how he should have noticed sooner.
"I wouldn't dream of it...." Q grinned as he felt a strong hand to go from the small of his back to move to rest on his flat stomach. Leaning back into the firm chest, he listened to his brothers squabble and sipped his tea tiredly. He could feel James hum in amusement as he rested his head against the brunettes messy nest of hair. Feeling the older man shift, he smiled a little as another kiss was pressed to his neck then slightly exposed collar.
"Quentin Holmes hrmm? Interesting family you have there...."
"James...you have no idea..."