Thanks to mojoflower for the nit-picking in the previous chapter and for the suggestions.

"Brother dear, you can't keep brooding like this," Mycroft said dismissively. "It's positively maddening," he said, punctuating his remark with a flip of his dark umbrella.

"Well, perhaps you wouldn't be tired of my brooding if you kept your bloody cameras out of my flat," Q ground out. His fingers itched for his pencils and sketchbook, thinking about the stark whiteness of the blank page and the never-ending possibilities of his drawings. Q loved the subtle shades of blue that positively leapt from the pristine pages of his sketchbook; of how the reds were almost hot to the touch; and of how the greens soothed his tired eyes the most. Instead, here he was walking with his brother after an stilted dinner with him.

John's words came floating back through his mind. He means well, even if he can't actually express it, Q thought. He took a deep breath and held his temper in check. Which was, naturally, easier said than done.

Mycroft merely hummed at Q's silence and opened the door to the black car for his brother.

"No thank you. I'll take the Tube," Q said politely.

"Pedestrian," his elder brother said and then frowned at the unintentional pun. "But no matter. If that is what you want to do, then that is what you want to do."

"Yes, well, thank you for your overwhelming stamp of approval. I greatly appreciate it," Q said, wondering if he could punch Mycroft in the face without consequences. Sorry, John, Q thought. I'll try harder next time.

"Good evening, Baby Brother," Mycroft said ignoring Q's tone and his unspoken thought.

"Good evening, Elder Brother," Q said and spun on his heel. He was halfway home when he realized that he was being followed. He sighed, chiding himself for daydreaming, and turned to face his stalking elder brother, only to be greeted with a silver Aston Martin with the window rolled down.

"But I thought that was destroyed at Skyfall!" Q blurted out before he could stop himself.

"Good evening to you too," James said smirking, blue eyes crinkling at the edges. "Would you like a ride?"

Q was horribly flat-footed, red-faced, and speechless.

"You're not really going to take the Tube as you suggested to your older brother, are you?" James said, his amusement growing.

"Why does everyone insist on spying on me?" Q asked exasperated, throwing his hands up. I could strangle the whole lot of them.

"You're very easy to spy on and I suspect that your brothers are merely being protective of you," James answered. "Now, are you getting in or not?"

"Fine, fine," Q said and slid into the car. "Seriously, though, I thought this car had been demolished."

James shrugged. "It's not like there aren't others out there," was all he said as his eyes focused on the road.

"Right," Q replied. They fell into a silence as James maneuvered them around London. Q bit his lip trying to stifle the question. "Are the rumors true?" Q finally asked, letting his curiosity get the better of him.

"What rumors?" James cocked an eyebrow at Q innocently.

"That the passenger side seat can be ejected through the roof," Q replied not believing for a moment James' innocent act.

"Being the Quartermaster, you would know better than me," James replied not bothering to hide the smile.

"The plans didn't survive the attack. And besides, that was the work of my predecessor - as was the exploding pen you keep sending in requests for," Q said. "I'm still not making you an exploding pen or a hat with a steel rim!"

"Pity. You should rethink your stance against exploding pens."

"Hmmm," was all Q said, smirking.

"Thank you for the ride," Q said when they pulled up. He fiddled with his keys trying to make a decision. "Would you like to come for some tea?"

James quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Or some other time," Q muttered, his pale skin blooming with pink.

"Yes, I would love some tea," James replied chuckling. "You are adorable" he said as Q opened his flat.

"Adorable? Really, now?" Q said drily and blushed even harder. "I can be quite charming when I need to be. But I leave it for Sherlock to do."

"He's your middle brother?"

"Yes. He is most prickly at the best of times," Q said as he went about fixing the tea.

"And your eldest brother?"

"Quite frightening," Q said without skipping a beat.

James quirked an eyebrow.

"No, I mean it. I'm sure one day he'll manage to kidnap you for a chat about me," Q said and smiled benignly at James.

"Kidnap?" James said, his eyebrows rising to his hairline.

"Oh, most definitely. I'm quite surprised that he hasn't done it already," Q said, handing James his cup of tea. "Oh and when he does, try not to kill him. The British Government would be ever so displeased if you do."

James blinked at Q who continued to smile innocently at the other man. "What exactly does your brother do for a living?" James said at a loss. Poor James. So out of your depth when dealing with the Holmes Family.Q continued his puttering around the kitchen fixing the tea. He took down two mugs, examining both carefully before putting one into the sink and the other next to the teapot. Q chose another mug from the cupboard, a replica of his mug at headquarters this time with the letter "H." James cleared his throat bringing Q back to the conversation.

"Hmmm? Oh, right. I can't tell you that," Q said absently and smiled at James. The kettle announced its readiness and Q went to work with the tea.

"Can't or won't?" James said carefully eyeing the younger man. Q's hair was in a right state today, seemingly having a life of its own. Q could just see the wheels turning in James' head. Why yes, 007, I do know what a comb is and stop smirking at me!

"Yes," Q said and gave him a crooked grin. He sat down across from James, handing him tea and examined his own drink, dark, steaming and inviting. Q took honey and spooned three dollops of the viscous amber substance into his tea. He watched as the honey slowly slid off the spoon and into steaming liquid. Q stirred the tea before adding a splash of milk into the cup, turning the liquid a pale brown color. He brought the cup to his lips and took a tentative sip and sighed blissfully before he realized that James was intently watching his every move. James' vivid blue eyes met Q's jade green eyes. Q blushed and set his cup back down, still holding it for the warmth.

"Q, I do believe you are a walking contradiction," James said, thickly. He picked up his cup and drank slowly.

Q couldn't help but feel the butterflies in his stomach as he watched James. What is going on,he thought desperately. He felt out of his league, his quicksilver mind coming to a spectacular halt. Q smiled again and fiddled with his mug.

His mobile chimed softly in his jacket pocket. James arched an eyebrow at him. Q just smiled at him and left his mobile in his pocket. The text, he was betting, was from Sherlock. "Aren't we all walking contradictions?" Q responded. "Just because I am a computer genius doesn't mean that I want to constantly be in front of a computer working."

James just shrugged. "I never pictured you as an artistic type."

"What do you picture me doing then?" Q said before he had the chance to think about what he said.

James cocked an eyebrow and smiled. Oh, no, Q thought desperately. How do I extract myself from this?

Q's mobile chimed thrice more causing him to roll his eyes. James smiled again. "You should answer that before the other person has a coronary."

"Ten pounds says it's one of my brothers," Q muttered darkly while James chuckled.

Well? Have you kissed him yet? - SH

I am willing to help move things along, if you require it. -SH

John tells me that I should be minding my own business. Should I? -SH

Stop ignoring me. I will go to drastic measures if you don't answer me. - SH

Q stared at his phone, panic setting in.

"What?" James asked, noting Q's wide-eyed outrage and pursed lips.

"Nothing," Q said quickly as he typed out a response, his ears still a bright shade of pink.

Shut up and stop spying on me. That goes for you too, Mycroft. If either of you do anything I will make sure your internet connection never works properly. - QH

As you wish. - SH

If you insist. - MH

Q sighed, praying for patience. He looked at James who was staring back at him, an unreadable look on his face. "Do you ever want to kill people after your mission is complete?" Q said, unable to keep his mouth shut.

"Only if they annoy me," James replied, amusement crinkling his eyes.

"I'm quite sure my mother would disapprove if I murdered my brothers," Q said and laughed, tension leaving his body.

James smiled and took a sip of his tea. "Are they up at all odd hours of the day?"

"Sherlock never sleeps properly, despite what his partner does. Mycroft...well, he might as well never sleep at all," Q said easily brushing the question off.

James gave him a calculating look.

"What?"

"There's something you're not telling me," James said, narrowing his eyes.

Q just smiled. "I'm sure that I don't know what you mean."

"No, I'm sure you don't," James said, his amusement evident.

"Honestly, Little Brother, when are you going to tell him?" Sherlock said, propping his feet up on Q's coffee table.

"Has it crossed your mind that perhaps your brother wouldn't like your meddling in his life?" John said as he pushed Sherlock's feet off the table.

Q smiled at John in thanks as he handed him his tea.

"I mean honestly, sometimes you can be just as bad as Mycroft. Have you thought about that?" John said obviously gathering a head of steam.

"I think you should tell him before I do," Sherlock said ignoring John.

"You do that and see that you won't be sleeping in our bed!" John snapped as he set the mug down abruptly on the table.

Q grinned widely as Sherlock turned red and made to retort.

"Oh, I wouldn't do that, Brother dear," Q said. "John looks very serious about his threat."

Sherlock snapped his mouth shut and glared at the other two men in the room.

"Yes, yes, yes. You'll find a way to avenge yourself upon me later. I get it, Sherlock. Okay?" John said sighing. Q couldn't help the bark of laughter at Sherlock's story face and when his brother turned his countenance at him he smothered his giggles as best as he good. "Q, as much as I hate to admit it, Sherlock is right. Shut it," John said, pointing a finger at Sherlock. He turned his attention back to the youngest Holmes. "For better or for worse, you really should let him know."

"Oh, yes. Like he should take advice from you. Mr. I'm-Not-Gay," Sherlock retorted.

John sighed wishing he could gag his partner's mouth. "Yes, yes. Kettle meet pot. Shut it now. And let's not bring you into this conversation, shall we? Your brother invited us here for dinner not to needle him with our thoughts about his love life!"

Sherlock turned away from John as he looked out Q's window. Q bit back laughter as he watched the exchange from the kitchen. He had no doubt that his brother was watching his every move in the window's reflection. Q smiled cheekily at his brother's back, earning him a change in posture.

"Come on, Doctor Watson, let's leave my grumpy brother and set the table," Q said needling Sherlock slightly.

John sighed and smiled, "I told you to call me John."

"Right," Q said. "My apologies."

John smiled again, showing straight white teeth that contrasted the pink hues of his skin. I wonder if he'll let me draw him again. Properly this time, Q thought and filed away the question for later. "If you are to call me John, then you must tell me your name - your real name. Surely, it isn't Q!"

Q stopped cold as Sherlock made a small sound of distress. John looked back from brother to brother, embarrassed to know that he had somehow hit a nerve.

"I'm sorry. You don't need to tell me," John said stammering his apologies.

Q took a deep breathe. "It's Quennel, actually," he said. "It's French for little oak tree. Please don't apologize. You had no idea and I'm sure that Sherlock never told you." John remained silent, his face flushed as Sherlock scowled. "Our mother is French and wanted to honor her heritage."

"Father never approved," Sherlock said, his voice sharp and quiet. His eyes turned a shade of stormy grey and belied the anger and anguish underneath.

"There were many things that Father never approved," Q said, smiling crookedly, his green eyes tired.

"No, John, don't apologize," Sherlock said. Q looked up registering the surprise on John's face. Sherlock sat down beside John and took his hand.

Q smiled a little at John's blush before continuing, "Father...was a drunk, a very mean, nasty, and abusive drunk. Sherlock tells me that you know a bit of what that's like."

John nodded, his kind face turning hard. There's a story there, thought Q, but isn't there always a story?

"Father thought that by naming me a French name that she was disregarding our English heritage. He even thought that our mother had cheated on him and I was the result," Q said, his eyes turning distant at the painful memories. "I chose Q as a name to placate our father, but nothing I ever did was good enough for the bastard. It's ironic that he thinks mother cheated on him when he was the one who cheated on her. He's a nice enough person, a bit twitchy but ultimately a kind hearted person," Q said thinking about they shy man. He shook his head, clearing the cobwebs. "But that's for another day. Perhaps, I can convince him to come around."

Sherlock shrugged and indicated for Q to continue. "It wasn't a hardship when the police told us of his death, though it changed Mother and not for the better, I'm sorry to say." Q fiddled with the buttons of his cardigan, he looked up to find the two of them staring at him. He smiled sadly. "Families, you can love them all you want but sometimes they aren't the best for you.

As Q sat in bed later that night, he thought about what his words to Sherlock and John. He did love his parents, but he loved them from a distance. Every interaction with his mother was painful at best and a horrific nightmare at worst.

It was nothing, however, to his childhood. Q sighed as he absently rubbed a scar that his father gave him one Christmas.

Q startled as his mobile chimed on his bedside table. Frowning, he brought it close to his face and peered at the screen.

I'm in the neighborhood. Let me in?

Q puzzled over the message as another one came through.

It's James, by the way.

Q smiled, feeling his toes curl slightly and his face heat up.

You do know that it's after midnight? - QH

Yes, I do. But you specifically requested that I at least text or call before showing up on your doorstep.

Q smiled.

I did indeed. - QH

Will you let me in?

Just a tick. - QH

Q got up, switching on more lights and padded to his front door. He peered through the peephole and saw James standing patiently waiting. He smiled again, before unlocking the door.

"Come in," Q said.

"Thank you," James replied. "Why do you sign your texts? I know who you are."

"Habit," Q replied. "Well, what brings you here?"

James was dressed in a pair of faded blue jeans - which fit him quite nicely, thank you very much - a blue cardigan with a white oxford underneath. His shoes were black and looked recently polished. Q bit back a smile. It was the closest James Bond had to dressing down.

"What?" James asked, noticing Q's smile.

"Nothing. Going somewhere special?" Q teased.

"In fact, I was," James said, tossing Q his own smirk.

"Oh? Well, thank you for stopping at my flat before you went to that somewhere special," Q said, pushing down his disappointment.

James gave him a blank look before crowding into his space. Q backed up, his back hitting his front door before he stopped. Q blinked, his eyes growing larger behind his glasses.

"What are you doing?" Q said, trying not to squeak.

"Idiot, I meant your flat was the somewhere special," James said, his icy blue eyes bored holes into Q.

Q swallowed, licking his lips. "Explain," he finally said, his eyes still large as saucers.

"You've been...occupying my thoughts for quite sometime Q. You know me, or at least my standard procedures. I see something or someone I like and I automatically take it or her. But with you...you are different. I seem to be playing by your rules and not mine. What exactly are you doing to me?" James said, his voice dropping into a growl.

"I...I'm not doing anything!" Q said, almost squeaking.

"No, you're not...you are completely and utterly fascinating. Once I think I have you figured out, you surprise me with something else, something I haven't thought of," James said, leaning even closer.

Q bit his lip before pushing himself off the wall and into James' arms, pressing his lips against James'. James surprised at Q's initiative almost stumbled as the backs of his knees met the couch. They went sprawling down together with Q on top. Finally, Q leaned back, panting while they stared at each other.

"I...I've never done that before," Q said making to move off James' lap.

James smiled, letting his hand settle on Q's hip. "Well, there's a first time for everything," he said and leaned up to kiss a grinning Q.

Somewhere in Q's flat, his mobile chimed three times before finally settling into silence.

Two weeks later - Somewhere in Spain

James was resting in the shadow of a palm tree. His eyes were half-lidded as he watched Q sketch quickly. Q saw him watching and smiled at him. He lightly slapped the hand that was inching its way towards his unprotected foot.

"Stop that," Q admonished him.

"No, it's fun to make you squirm," James said, his eyes turning a deeper blue.

"There's plenty enough time for that, Mr. Bond," Q quipped.

James sighed dramatically and said, "as you wish."

Q ignored the unspoken jibe and continued to work on his sketch. James was wearing form fitting black swim trunks and not much else. His head was propped up by his arm, displaying his heavily muscled arm and torso. Q lightly penciled in the scars that were visible on his torso, making a mental note to trace them later in bed.

The thought alone brought a scarlet blush upon his cheeks.

James saw the blush but mercifully remained quite. He would tease the genius later.

"There," Q said and leaned back, resting against the palm tree.

"Can I look?" James asked.

"Of course," Q said and handed him his sketchbook.

The drawing James found there took his breath away. Never had he seen himself rendered in such a manner. Flaws that he saw in himself had been transformed by Q's deft hand into something beautiful. James swallowed several times before handing the sketchbook back to Q.

"Thank you," James said gruffly.

"You're welcome," Q replied, smiling sincerely. "That's how you look to me. Beautiful. Scarred. Powerful and vulnerable."

This time is was James' turn to smile as he looked up at Q, the sun in his hair.

- End -

Text #1:

Finally! You owe me, Sherlock. - MH

Text #2:
I do not. - SH

Text #3:
Boys. Leave your brother alone. - JW