It is New Years Eve, and London City is erupting in fireworks below them. Q stands beside Bond, who still wonders about the past days. The bond-bite heals nicely, Q is admiring the scarring whenever he is near the bathroom mirror.
M gave them the all clear yesterday. No apologies, Bond thinks. She has given both of them a few extra days off, to ensure a better bonding. Or to better hold on to Q. Q, who looks at the fireworks with such happiness, every now and then leaning back against Bond, ensuring a touch, a brief connection. Bond wants to keep him safe, locked safely away from the M's of this world.
"Don't, James," Q says, "you can't continue to be angry with M. She doesn't care."
Bond smirks.
"My little mindreader," he says.
"Oi," Q protests, "nothing 'little' about me, thank you very much."
They fall silent for a while. They have talked a lot the past days. Laid plans for their life together, for their work together.
"I wonder," Bond says, immediately having Q's full attention. "You want to keep your flat, and I've no problem with that," Bond adds, before Q needs to explain himself.
"But," Bond considers his question. "What is it with the collar and the leash? You don't wear it at home, but I saw you and–"
"And Bert, my guardian, yes," Q nods.
"You were wearing it at the club, but Bert let you dance without the leash, without dancing with you."
Q nods again.
"Hm," he says, "put the kettle on, will you, James?"
Bond grins. A longer explanation, then. Q disappears into the bathroom, while Bond prepares the tea. Q brings the small box from the shelf above the bathroom sink with him and puts it down on the kitchen table. Bond follows with two mugs of tea.
"I know you know everything about the equality laws, don't you," Q asks.
Bond does, of course. He hopes that the future will bring equality for people like him as well. Q opens the box. The red leather band and the beautiful metal leash are in there. Reverently, Q takes them out and places them on the table between them.
"You see, James," Q begins. "This is the collar and leash, which has been worn by one of my ancestors, way back in time. It has been passed on from male omega to male omega. Or, and that is the interesting part, from male omega to the oldest child when said child became a parent themselve."
Q touches the leather and takes a sip from his tea.
"My father is the very first male omega in my family to be allowed to walk in public without being on a leash. The first laws were passed while he was a young man," Q pauses. "He told me this story so many times–he'll probably tell you when you meet him."
Q looks happy at the prospect. Bond feels less excited.
"You've family?" Bond asks.
"Oh yes," Q smiles. "I've three older sisters, alpha's the lot of them."
"And your parents?"
"Both alive and well," Q plays with the leather band.
"When the law came through, my father was one of the first male omegas to walk in the park, proud and alone. No collar, no leash, no guardian."
Q's eyes become distant.
"It took only a few weeks to realise that a law can't change people's minds. Alphas can scent a male omega without any problems," Q talks as if to himself. "We can change our scent, take suppression pills. We can pass as betas, but–"
He falls silent, drinks his tea.
"If we want to be ourselves, people can scent us being male omegas. My father was harassed. Constantly fighting off hands on his arse, comments about his heat, leered grins and looks from other people."
Q clears his throat.
"Mum and him, they both fight for the equality laws. For the laws to be put into action for real, not just for the show of it."
He looks at Bond. Bond places his hand on the table, palm up. Q sighs and puts his hand into his. Their fingers interlace.
"I got the collar and leash from my father when I was taken to the Institute," Q looks at Bond. "You know, the place where they 'educate' male omegas and determine what we can do for a living."
Bond nods, he knows. Normally, male omegas would be 'employed' as sex workers or in the entertainment industry. Properly bonded, of course. Their alphas taking care of their salary and life. Bond squeezes Q's hand.
Q smiles at him.
"It's not all bad, James," he says. "And look, I was allowed to get my own flat and work for MI6."
"A flat in a building owned by MI6," Bond points out.
Q sends him a look.
"Yes, well," Q says, "as it is. I decided, I wanted a guardian and I wanted to use the collar and leash whenever I'm out in public."
Yes, Bond thinks, that was just it.
"Why? The law says, you're allowed to be out and about like everyone else," Bond asks.
Q looks at him with a small smile.
"What did you think, when you saw me with the collar, leash and guardian?"
"Guardian or owner," Bond answers without thinking. "And–I didn't like it. The thought of walking with someone on a leash, it's–I don't like it," Bond repeats.
"Yes," Q nods. "But you did look, you even remembered me," he winks at Bond.
"And maybe, maybe you thought about why someone would put another human being on a leash? Why someone deems it necessary?"
Bond looks at Q.
"You do it to start people thinking?"
Q tilts his head.
"Yes, partly," he answers. "And to feel safe. Nobody ever touches me or leers at me. I decide who I want to flirt with, whom I take to my bed."
"Your bed?" Now, Bond is surprised by the sting of jealousy, he feels.
"Oh, James, of course. I told you, I hate the shoulder pads, but they come in handy, if I want someone to help me through my heats without the fear of bonding with the wrong person," Q smiles. "I'm no virgin, James."
Bond looks at their entwined hands. Then looks up at Q.
"Yes," Q says, "I will keep the collar and leash, and I will have Bert take me out and about–whenever you're on a mission. And yes," he adds with a wicked smile, "I have several dildos, which can help me through my heats–I'll introduce to every single one of them and their nicknames."
Bond smiles back at Q.
"Mindreader," he says, stands up and pulls him into his arms.