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Q knew that most people assumed that he and James had lots of sex. It wasn’t like most people were subtle about their gossiping (and even if they were, Q had eyes everywhere), so Q heard quite a few theories about what his sex life with 007 was like. It ranged from the standard romantic smut scenes to some quite alarming sexual fetishes (he never was able to look at Tom the same way in Q branch after overhearing his minion’s graphic imagination on what James did to Q when they were alone).
He didn’t mind. Let them have their rumors. It was amusing since none of them were anywhere near the truth.
He and James had never had sex.
And they didn’t plan to. Ever.
Looking back on it, Q never imagined that when the great 007 had first asked Q out to dinner, he would have found a kindred spirit. To be honest, Q never expected to learn that James Bond, serial womanizer extraordinaire, hated sex to the point where it made his skin crawl.
It had been quite the conversation between the two of them when the topic of sex came up. Q had started the conversation to inform James that Q simply didn’t feel comfortable with sex, but was surprised when he learned James felt the same.
Quite the turn of good fortune for both of them.
“What has you so deep in thought so early in the morning?”
Q blinked, drawing out of his thoughts to look up at James, who was standing in the doorway of their kitchen, clad in the sweatpants he had slept in. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight, “I just wanted to make myself an early cup of tea before breakfast.”
“Should I keep you away from your laptop for the safety of the world?” James teased, making his way to where Q was seated and pressing a tender kiss to the top of his head, “Sleep well?”
“James, after working 40 hours, I could have slept on the floor and slept well.” Q chuckled, sipping his tea, “But I slept better being by you.”
“It’s good to be home.” James nodded, “I missed you while I was on my last mission.”
It had taken Q a few months of their relationship to realize that when James said “I miss you” he meant “I love you.” It was sweet, “I missed you too.”
James smiled softly, making his way to the stove, “What would you like for breakfast?”
Sighing contently as he sank into his seat, Q smiled, “I don’t suppose eggs benedict would be too much to ask for?”
“For you?” James looked over his shoulder at him, “Anything.”
Sure, the world may think that he and James had a sex filled relationship that spanned several sexual kinks (and varying levels of legality), but to Q (and James, when he’s actually admit it), it was mornings like this that were truly the height of their romance.