#and i cope with writing bond as an inappropriate house cat LMAO

[patrice-bergerons]

I am back!  ...with an installment in the cat!Bond 00Q AU no one asked for.  It is set some time after this, although can just as easily be read on its own.  It probably also warrants a mature rating, somehow...  Anyway, without further ado, Bond is still stuck as a cat and he is not at all jealous.

~*~

The click of the front door followed by sounds of struggle had James sprinting to the hallway in a heartbeat.  He might not have been what he once was but if Q was in danger- he would bite and claw; tear out a carotid artery with his teeth, die before he let Q come to harm.

Oh, he thought when he reached the front door.  

A second man had indeed followed Q into the house. 

He even had Q pinned against the wall but the most danger the Quartermaster seemed to be in was suffocation from how tightly the man’s mouth was attached to his own.  He had short-cropped auburn hair—the only thing had in common with James—he was tall, slender; wearing a skin tight shirt James would not be caught dead in. 

One of his hands was pressing Q’s shoulder against the wall, the other desperately cupping Q’s cheek as they kissed.  Q for his part looked just as desperate; his slender fingers dug into the man’s side and a moan escaped his throat as he shifted to get more pressure on his cock.

James hissed.

At this the man startled back, finally breaking the kiss.

Good.  James would have smiled if he could.

“What do we have here then?” he said in an unpleasant Northern accent, frowning at James like a complete idiot.  Yes, that name would do.

Q looked at James for the briefest of moments.  His pupils were blown wide, nostrils flaring with each breath; his hair was a gorgeous, wild mess and his lips- they were slick with spit and even with the awful sepia filter that had settled over James’ world, it took very little to imagine how red they might actually be.

“Seven,” he admonished and James remembered to exhale.  Then he turned to Complete Idiot.

“Harry, this is my cat.  Seven, this is Harry.”

“Bit of a pervert, is he?” Complete Idiot said, “watching us like that.”  A lecherous grin spread across his ugly lips as he stepped into Q’s personal space again and Q’s arms closed around his neck.

James bristled at the insinuation and doubly so at Q’s conduct in the face of it.  Fine, he thought.  Get murdered next time.  See if I care.  

Well, Q could still get murdered this time for all they knew.  As the head of Q-branch, he was a highly valuable target and he had helped run enough honeypot missions to know how they went.  Judging by the clubbing outfits, it was doubtful he’d run any sort of background check on this unpleasant stranger he had just let into their home.  The man Q was happily snogging now could stab him, bound him, torture him for information.  He could poison him and kidnap him for ransom.

And what would happen to James then?  He had a sense that Moneypenny would dress him in tiny frocks; Tanner’s kids would pick him up by his tail and spin him around because kids rivalled the worst criminals James had faced in how sadistic they could be.  Mallory would drop him off at a kill shelter.

He had never noticed before how elegant Q’s wrists were, how lithe and graceful his muscles, his bicep as it flexed and relaxed under the sleeve of his polo shirt.  

Q was not his type—that was what he’d told himself back when he had a say in such matters.  Too scrawny.  Unmarried.  He would only get attached.

Like a four-limbed beast the two of them made their way towards the stairs, bodies hungry and searching.  James considered following after them—just in case—but decided against it.

Q had made his bed and now he could lie in it.

And besides, his feline ears could hear their moans from every corner of downstairs whether he wanted to or not.

*

This did not stop him however from lightly booby-trapping the house overnight and positioning himself before the closed bedroom door at 6am to demand breakfast.  Even besieged in terrible pangs of hunger, he would normally never do that to Q on a Saturday, with as little sleep as Q got, but…he supposed there were exceptions to every rule as he yowled with all he got.

Just as he thought, soon the door opened and Q stepped out, wearing nothing but boxer briefs.  James had observed him in the shower before but nothing prepared him for the swathes of pale skin that greeted him now, his mess of a bedhead.  He looked groggy as fuck but when he spoke his voice was tender in that intoxicating way he always, only, used with James.  Well, with his cat.  “Yeah, I know,” he said, like he really did.  Then he glanced over into the room where Harry or Henry or whatever his name was lay sprawled over James’ side of the bed, the bastard.    

“If you can wait ten more minutes for breakfast, it’s time he took his leave, don’t you think?” he whispered conspiratorially.  Yes, kick him out, James thought, affectionately headbutting Q’s shin to express his approval.  Q gave him a wonderful smile at this, the kind that takes over your whole face like sunlight in the spring, suppressing a chuckle.

James watched quietly as Q woke the bastard and spun a tale about a work emergency that came up—the IT system of the entire company was down, Q said when questioned as to what sort of work emergency arises at 6am on a Saturday.  He felt rather pleased when the bastard stepped on a toy ball that had just happened to roll to the bottom of the stairs overnight and fell on his arse.

Soon, the idiot was on his merry way, never to return again, James had eaten his breakfast and he and Q had climbed back into bed—which now also had fresh sheets after a pointed suggestion from James had been implemented.  

James curled up on his pillow and Q turned to face him, cheek squished against his own and face washed in the halo of the morning light that found its way in around the corners of the curtains.

“He was a decent shag,” Q said quietly, reaching out a hand to stroke James’ fur, ignoring James’ glower.  He could be lying dead in a ditch right now.  “Well, up until he was coming and he said ‘I love you.’”  Ugh.  Sharing the sentiment, Q scrunched his face but it only lasted a moment before it was replaced by another smile.  “You are the only man I need in my life, huh, Seven?”

Back when he had a say in such matters, James had thought that a Quartermaster who fancied him, with whom he could flirt just enough to keep the flame alive, was the most powerful weapon he could have in his arsenal.  He doubted he would have been so callous, so thoughtless, had he known about the way Q’s eyes crinkled when he smiled—when he really smiled—about his voice when it was just the two of them in the world.  

How breathtaking he looked lying next to him in mornings like this.