James was on the way home from Clear-water, Florida; he'd been on a mission there it was quick and easy for once. Except for an alligator eating his gun, there'd been no trouble.

The flight attendants directed him to his seat and then to his surprise placed a young boy next to him. Most children flew seated next to their parents.
Suddenly the boy turned to him. "Hi, my name's Astor."

"Well hello, Astor, where are your parents?"

"My parents decided to send me to my uncle's to live in London." The boy's face took on a dark and sad turn he said, "Except I have no family waiting for me in London."

James looked at him and asked, "How do you know that?"

The boy smiled and said, my parents hate me. There is no possible way for there to be family waiting for me because i have no family left other them my parents and brother. It just looks like that on paper so that really anyone could take me home."

That didn't seem right: anyone could take this kid and not everyone was good to children. Well, he could take him home. Their house was big enough for it. Q might have a fit, but the kid seemed so sad and scared.

"How bout this? When we land, I'll wait with you, and if nobody comes, you can come home with me, if that's okay with you. If not, then I can find you somewhere else to live," he said before he could think about it.

The boy smiled and said, "I'd love that," then frowned. "You don't live with anyone who is going to have a fit if you bring me home?"

James was silent for a minute before saying, "I live with a younger man. That doesn't bother you, does it, little one?" The boy shook his head

James smiled and continued, "His name is Q, and I guess you could say he's the reason I come home alive and not in a body bag."

The boy gave him a look, wondering eyebrows raised. What could this man do that was so dangerous?

James smiled at him and leaned in closer before saying very quietly, "I'm a secret agent, and Q is my handler. He started out as the voice of some kid who looked like he was barely out of high school bossing me about in my ear on missions, but that changed to the man I make dinner for and share, among other things, a bed with."

When James had finished, the boy smiled at him and said, "That's really sweet, but … um … will he like me, you think ?"

"Astor, I think he will love you."

Soon after that, the boy left for the bathroom.

James called a waitress over. James ordered a drink for himself and one for the boy, too. He didn't know what the boy would like, so he had the waitress pick, and when the boy came back from the bathroom, the waitress brought James his drink and a glass of something orange for the boy next to him. The boy took a sip and smiled widely, giving a thoroughly pleased sigh. James looked over at him then at the drink.

The boy, catching the look, blushed and said, "Don't give me that look, it's my favorite drink and I haven't had it in months."

James raised his hands. "I understand that, but what kind is it?"

"It's Orange Soda, do you want some?"

James smiled at him. "Sure, it sounds good." The boy handed his cup over and watched expectantly. James took
the cup and looked at the bright orange colour and the bubbles before drinking some.

The boy was right: this was good. A little sweeter then he was used to, but still quite good. He handed the glass back to the boy. The boy took it back and drank some more before looking at James's fancy little glass of vodka, wondering what it was.

"What's that you have there?" he asked, pointing at the glass. "Can I try some?"

James thought for a moment. It wouldn't hurt to let the kid have a sip; he probably wouldn't even like it. And with that in mind, he said, "Sure," and let the boy take the glass. James looked on as he gripped it with both hands.

The boy looked at the liquid curiously: it had a slightly sweet smell. It smelled yummy, he thought before drinking it all. James was horrified: he'd just given a little boy a rather large drink of vodka. The cup had probably looked smaller to him, but it was quite deep.

However the horrified sensation faded as the boy's cheeks puffed out and turned pink. He started to shake slightly and James realized he was trying to spit it out but had nowhere to do it. He had tears in his eyes, the poor baby. Finally he swallowed it and promptly started to cough hard. James pulled him forward in his seat and slapped his back.

Eventually he stopped and James rubbed his back. "Hey, kid, it's okay. I probably should have warned you. It's one of my favorite drinks, but it burns something terrible if you're not used to it."

The kid whined and let out a slightly slurred, "That stuff's gross! Smells nice, tastes bad. I'm tired."

James smiled a little. The kid seemed to be about to fall asleep. Well, that was good at least. James kept rubbing his back, making soft noises he hoped were comforting. James had heard Q make the same noises to the cats if he gave them a start.

The combination of the alcohol, soft words, and the warm hand rubbing circles into his back and shoulders had the boy fast asleep in seconds.