#didnt answer your q at all um. i think it would be an adjustment but he'd get there if it was clear vale was over it ! hes a loverrrrrr

[moonshynecybin]

Omgg that other anon has put ideas in my head. Imagine Bezz in Love with Vale but never daring to make a move because he puts him in a pedestal.

And then rosquez reconciliation happens and he catches them... the angst

seee i dont think hes IN LOVE capital letters with vale i think he has a sexually confusing crush that he is in denial about.... like bezz to me is the kind of guy that is really good at avoiding thinking about like. WHY he thinks/feels things. he knows he has strong feelings about stuff and if theyre generally good or bad but when he tries and put specific ass names to them he gets lost a bit in the repression weeds. among the emotional jungle. and THEN he shies away from confronting the more complex ones bc hes a BIG people pleaser who is also invested in recieving macho-man praise from people around him and the public writ large... exhibit A. collarbonegate. idk i think being gay would scare the shit out of him! bc well. some people would look at him differently. and that would be hard to swallow. so he does a lot of mental gymnastics to ignore the specificity of his emotions and why he might be having them in relation to certain people. like its okay in sports to love your homies sos os so much but it is NOT okay to want to actually get married to them because that might involve social sanctions, risk your sponsorships, mess with your career, be RUTHLESSLY talked about on social media etc... its a really big deal !!! hes invested in not being gay but also very invested in loving people within these safe little frameworks bc thats what hes allowed to do

so for instance he knows he loves cele and hes okay with admitting to crying when he got his first moto2 win and talking about how much he cares about him in articles, because thats what sports is to him/ BUT if you asked him to his face if he's IN LOVE with cele i think my guy would fully bluescreen. please reboot your motorcycle racer. cold ass flop sweat playing with his 100 million bracelets like uh why would you say that. nervous smile. like he doesnt even know why he's so nervous but he IS. has to REALLYYY do some digging into his psyche to get to the bottom of all of that i think. it takes some time. which SUCKS bc cele keeps getting his hopes up and then getting shot down in roundabout uncomfy repression dude ways so he thinks bezz is uncomfy around him :/ which he ISNT hes just uncomfy around himself 1!1

which is also lowkey why the hero worship thing with vale is sooo interesting to me (esp with his weird ass marc complex lmao) bc its so sumbliminal and essential to bezz's identity AND easy to miss. easy to explain away. until you have 8 sex dreams about the man and it gets harder to ignore. and fr just makes a lot of sense to me inside the framework of the repressed gay sports guy miasma. also the idea of vale being bezz's gay awakening is just funny to me. he's like the keira knightly for tumblr bisexuals of the motorcycle racing community

[psychopersonified]

Interrupted

Q’s video conference gets interrupted by a half naked man wielding a cat... 

Inspired by the multitude of wonderful fanart featuring Q and Bond in front of a computer, some clothed, some not quite 😉. And also by stories of zoom call accidents.

Tags: Freshly established relationship. Breaking the news. 

-------------

“…How much progress are we making in regards to the drag coefficient?” is the next question on Q’s mind as he reviews the R&D stage-gate checklist. Q has his attention on the tablet in front of him, marking up the design drawing with a stylus. The image is shared onscreen with the other three participants of the call. 

“Wind tunnel test results are back, the best we’ve achieved so far is using V308 design, but as expected it does come with some compromise to practicality—”

At R’s sudden pause, Q looks up and turns towards the screen displaying the participants’ video feed. 

“Sorry R I didn’t catch that, you might have cut out for a moment.” He adjusts the wireless earbuds in case they’ve come loose. 

Jenny’s image smiles widely and the others follow suit. “Sir, did you adopt a new kitty?” 

The unexpected question prompts him to look around his desk. He spies Spot lounging out of view of the webcam, by his favourite window perch having just had breakfast. Q assumes the other black and white cat, Jellicles must be somewhere under Spot’s large orange lump. 

“Uh, no?” he is a little discomfited, not knowing what brought on the bizarre tangent in the discussion. 

“Boss, you sure about this? He’s a big one. Might eat you out of house and home,” Nish joins in the ribbing. 

“Granted he’s a silent killer. Any unwanted gifts dropped off on your carpet yet?” Jamila this time. 

“What on earth are you all talking about—,“ in his own video feed minimised out of the way on the bottom right corner, Q finally catches sight of movement in the background. 

The problem with open plan living Q notices for the first time, is the lack of privacy. Not an issue if you’re living alone, but when you have house guests, it makes it trickier. Q’s webcam faces the dining area where Agent 007 is currently making a spectacle of himself. His shirtless muscular back is half turned to them. The light grey sweatpants he is wearing slung dangerously low on his hips - the tops of his well sculpted glutes artfully exposed.

Bond had wandered absently into the dining area, one arm cradling a restless black and white cat to his chest like a baby, but his attention is focused on the tablet held in his other hand. Jellicles is not happy at being ignored - headbutting Bond under the chin and attempting repeatedly to bop the human on the nose to get his attention. 

When the agent is sufficiently annoyed, he locks eyes with the cat for a moment before tipping his head to smush his nose against cat’s forehead - which causes Jellicles to meow loudly in reply. 

Q turns back to look at his monitor, all three participants on the call are staring in open-mouthed shock. He searches his desk for something to throw; a squishy stress toy in the shape of a cow would suffice. Q aims for the torso, but the toy bounces comically off Bond’s rock hard arse instead.

That catches Bond’s attention and he turns around - Q regrets not thinking this one through. He and his little audience are now treated to the frontal view, which is arguably even more distracting. The agent’s golden tan glows in the morning light - accentuating the definition of his well developed pectorals all the way to the rippling planes of the chiseled abdominals and the blonde trail of hair peeking out of the waistband. Further below, the soft cotton blend material of the sweatpants does little to hide the endowments underneath. 

Bond raises a quizzical eyebrow at him. He’d put the tablet down and caught one of the cat’s paws in his hand  in the interim - to stop it from trying to touch his nose and was kissing each little toe-bean before the interruption. Bond is in a fantastic mood this morning and Jellicles must adore him enough to allow such manhandling. 

Q scowls at him and mouths ‘I’m on a call’ while using a hand to gesture at his monitor and the webcam. Bond’s expression turns apologetically wide-eyed for a second in acknowledgment of his little gaffe. But in the next moment, he appears to brush it off -hanged for a sheep as a lamb-.

Instead of ducking out of view, he takes four purposeful strides towards Q’s desk, the cat still in his arms. Q can’t decide if disabling his video would cause more suspicion or if they should just cease with the charade - somehow ‘he’s just a friend who sleeps over and cuddles my cats’ defence doesn’t quite stack up at this point.

Behind him now and without a trace of shame, Bond bends over a shoulder to wink at the three familiar faces in the monitor. Q resists the urge to slap the man away, opting instead to glower at him. The agent senses a rebuke forthcoming, so preemptively uses the cat as a shield. He holds the black and white cat up to the webcam, then pushes the cat in front of Q’s face - Jellicles doesn’t disappoint, immediately latching on and playfully chewing on Q’s nose. 

“Ah! James!” Q tries to flinch away. The assault is over in seconds when Bond pulls the cat away but then unexpectedly returns to peck Q on the corner of his mouth before he can even protest. When Bond straightens again, the expansive view of naked chest and abs fills up most of the right side of Q’s video feed. 

Q has to half turn and physically nudge the agent away with a splayed hand against warm hard muscle. The touch a searing reminder of their activities the night before. Bond is immovable when he doesn’t want to be moved, but he relents after a second or two. His parting gift, was to dip down and nuzzle Q in the hair, using the misdirection to hook a finger around the collar of Q’s jumper, exposing the top of a well bruised collarbone. The hand then slips to caress a long line down his chest to his stomach. 

“James! Will you stop it!” Q hisses. His next reaction is to stab the bastard in the side with the blunt tip of the tablet stylus to salvage his ruined modesty. The man is a menace! 

The bloody peacock doesn’t even have the decency to retreat out of camera view after that, instead he claims a seat in the dinning area, beaming with a satisfied smile. The cat now balanced on his stomach and chest, he moves another chair around so he can prop his legs on it and stretch out, putting himself on blatant display. An artist would beg to paint such a perfect tableau. Q wants to taser the smile off his face. 

Q clears his throat, not daring to look directly at his colleagues - too flustered to offer an explanation as to why 007 was molesting him in his home. So he tries ineffectively for the pretend-it-didnt-happen route, “Um… Right. Where were we? Jenny, the wind tunnel results?....” 

Jamila blinks furiously. Nish makes a hoarse croaking, “Whaaaa…..” like air escaping his lungs. 

And R… well R just says, “Sir, I think I speak for everyone here that we’re traumatised by what we just saw, bloody traumatised. We don’t think we can continue with today’s discussion until a satisfactory explanation has been provided...” R forces Q into a corner. Two other heads nod their support for Jenny’s statement. None of them appear disapproving - but it is guaranteed they are going to take the mickey out of him.��

There is no way he is going to spill tea with Bond still within earshot. The agent’s ego is unmanageable as it is. “If I promise to reveal all on Monday, can we please get on with this?” Q tries to make his whisper sound imperious to no avail - a half naked man lounging in the background tends to undermine one’s authority. 

“Health & Safety would disagree. It’s an occupational hazard you know, to be distracted around dangerous lab equipment,” Jamila points out. The others agree. Mutiny from his top three.

“How is my personal life -your- distraction?” 

“When there is a not inconsiderable pot waiting to be distributed. Come on boss, there’s still time for me to collect my winnings if things go my way,” Nish begs while consulting his phone for the records. 

“So… he’s -James- now is he? Is this a one time slumber party or an extended sleepover?” R powers through heedless. 

Q considers his answer, he is marginally aware of the betting pool around the stupid game ‘Fluster the Quartermaster’ and its various derivative odds regarding which agent, the timeline, where, method of burn etc. - but he doesn’t want to know the specifics as he wants to maintain plausible deniability should it implode in everyone’s faces. 

Bond is still playing with he cat in the background, trying to teach it commands. Q doesn’t want to say it out loud, so he types it into the group chat on the side of the screen:

::We’re moving his things over later today.::

“Called it!” Jenny slams a hand on the table and punches the air in victory. Oh she knew it! Q taking the Friday off (or any day off for that matter) that had nothing to do with his cats was enough cause for intrigue. 

But after the suspiciously expensive gift in the form of the red Hyundai a few months ago, it was just a matter of time. It was not the cost that was the issue, Bond’s wardrobe of bespoke suits probably cost more than the car several times over - it was the sentiment behind it that gave Jenny the courage to place a sizeable bet on them taking the next step towards cohabitation. The car, she read correctly in Bond’s weird wooing language was tantamount to an engagement ring. 

Nish and the others weren’t as good as reading signs, so majority of the odds were still focused around the early stages “NO! What? Wait… When did this happen? What about first date? First snog? First shag?” Nish scrolls furiously through his phone. 

The bets have taken a far more intrusive route than Q had ever expected. “Well I’m sorry my personal life does not follow the path of standard operating procedure… now can we -please- move on?” He’s acutely aware that he is blushing bright pink from head to toe. 

Jenny shakes her head, the only person that would dare to override him, “Q, you took the day off - so take the day off. The prototype can wait. No emergencies at the moment, the castle is still standing. We’ll call if something pops up. Now bugger off and enjoy your day with -James-!” 

*Sigh* Q rubs his temples and gives in reluctantly, “Fine! Yes, alright…” . He knows when something is a lost cause and the news is likely to cause a buzz in Q-Branch that would last the whole weekend - there goes department productivity. He’d hoped to come up with a less sensational way of disseminating the news. He expects massive ribbing on Monday. 

“Oh! Permission to inform Ms Moneypenny about the change in status?” Jenny asks. The girls are having drinks tonight and it would be hell trying to conceal anything from Eve. 

“No no! I’ll… inform her myself... and please try to keep this within Q-Branch, for now?” Eve would find seven ways of killing him if she had to find out from someone else. She’d already ripped into him, calling him a bloody clueless twit when she’d found out about the car Bond bought him as a ‘birthday gift’. As cars go, it was a cheap one - but Bond’s logic to get him to accept it was the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to him. 

When they’ve all signed off, Q shuts down the computer and lets himself be drawn back into the life inside his flat.  Balanced on Bond’s stomach, Jellicles has miraculously learned how to give high-fives on command. 

“Get dressed please. I’d like breakfast before we head over to your place.” Q tell him as he passes behind the agent. He places a hand on James’ shoulder, causing the agent to tip his head back. Q drops a kiss on his forehead.

“By the way, have you told Eve about… this?” Q asks as he combs his fingernails across Bond’s scalp. 

“Mmm… Not yet. Was thinking of letting her know on Monday.” Bond mutters, eyes closed. The relaxed blissed out look on his face was worth enduring a million papercuts. 

“Well, that’ll be too late. Since you’ve gone and announced it with as much discretion as you conduct your missions…,” Q tugs firmly at Bond’s ears as reprimand, ”…the whole of Q-Branch will know before morning tea. Which means Eve will find out by lunch.”

Just then Q’s phone on the dinning table buzzes with an incoming call. They both pause to stare at the screen. Caller ID displays ::Moneypenny:: ominously. 

“I’ll get dressed. You tell her… She called me a dithering halfwit just last week.” Bond straightens before bolting for the bedroom. 

“Coward!” Q yells at him. He steels himself to answer the phone. When he does, he all but squeaks, “Hello Eve?—“ 

——— FIN————

Notes: The mention about the car gift is from another fic of mine and can be found here - Car troubles and Not Quite Dates.

If you liked this fic, there’s more like it on the blog. Enjoy!