choose your story: 00q or 00silva


He slips out of the shower, ears very much perked for any tattletale of a sound, and slides out of the bathroom. The cool breeze floats in from the window, but he can barely focus on that; he picks up his stripped gun from the table and makes it one, fitting in the cartridge and making sure that it’s completely cocked before heading for the doorway. His eyes are alert and sure, focused on the path he’s following, and quickly pulls the door open - 

"By God," someone lets out a yelp, sounding familiar as ever with his fluffy brown locks, "does anyone in this bloody nation have a sort of decency!?” And he relaxes, tensed shoulders slowly loosening, as he sees the brown jacket and loose slacks and the mop of messy brown on the other’s head, and knows it’s just his quartermaster.  

"Don’t be so shy, Q," he says, not even covering himself up for the cause of this as he invites the other in, hearing the sound of footsteps shuffle behind him, slowly, cautiously, "you weren’t complaining about ‘my sense of decency’ last night-"


He feels as if something’s very wrong; and James Bond, a double-oh extraordinaire, had rather accurate gut-feeling. He narrows his blue eyes and slides out of the shower, turning off the spray of water - and slowly, he leaves the steamed-up bathroom to reach the kitchen table, picking up his gun and loading it with filled cartridges. He pulls at the barrel and cocks it for sure, before turning his feet toward the doors and walking with slight, pressured steps. Shoulders tense and muscles tightened, James pulls the door open -

But there’s nothing.

Gritting his teeth, the agent closes the door shut and places his hands at his sides, slumping slightly. He really needed to stop being so nervous and jittery at every single sound that alerted him - being on his toes was always good, but it was both a blessing and a curse; and he knew it to be true.

He walks back, loosening his grip on his gun; but it’s too soon, because there’s a flash of blonde, and he stops dead in his tracks, eyes quickly straining to catch who the hell had came in from the bloody windows.

"Oh, James,” they say, voice as tricky and sickly-sweet as ever, “I never thought you to be the unabashed type - not like this,” and James can see him doing his infamous ‘elevator-eyes’, stroking up from his feet up to his navel, to his chest, to his eyes, lingering, capturing, marking, “but. Well. I’m not complaining.” Then the other stands, and stops in front of him, calm and composed - and yet, anything but.

"Should have known," and that’s all James can say, lips turning upwards in a small, challenged show, "you would have used the bloody windows-“

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  9. spacecatandthekittens reblogged this from doubleohbond and added:
    00Q, always 00Q.
  10. browncoatgryffindorinthetardis reblogged this from houseofwonderandchaos and added:
    Uhm…this is from Tomb Raider.
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