Fandom: James Bond (Skyfall '12)
Characters/Parings: 00Silva aka Bond/Silva, Q/Moneypenny aka £Q
Word Count: 1,272
Summary: Bond realizes he loves Silva, then things happen. Part of Towards Dawn.
A/N: Don't hate me?!?!?! That's about all I have to say.
The bed is empty when he wakes up but he’s not too surprised. He can hear the sound of Silva cooking in the next room and he smiles. It amazes him how quickly this has become normal, in the few months they have been together. He steps out of bed and pulls off his draw pants. He takes time selecting a suit and eventually slips into one that is coal grey. He goes into the bathroom and brushes his teeth and uses mouthwash to clean out whatever he missed. He fills the cup on the sink with water and rinses quickly and then spits it back out. When he’s done he drinks the water and puts the cup back on the sink. He returns to his room and pulls out his small to go bag. He checks to make sure he has an extra change of clothes inside of it, checks to make sure his passport, the file containing the mission info, this two phones, and his tickets are there. They are. He zips it back up and enters the kitchen ready to face the day.
Silva is at the counter and two steaming cups of tea sit out in front of him. When Bond enters he passes one to him. Bond takes a sip and smiles happily, English Breakfast, just what he was craving. He sips it while Silva finishes making what smells like porridge. When Silva turns around with the two bowls he is proven correct.
They eat mostly in silence. Neither mind. The silence is nice. They don’t always eat quietly, sometimes they talk, their conversations ranging from what the Queen is doing to what missions James is going on. For a while Bond had tried to hide most of his missions, but after he had discovered that Silva knew the bulk of them anyway he had stopped. Occasionally between bites of the scrambled eggs or whatever he was eating that morning Silva would give pointers, show where Bond had made a tiny error or small mistake. And then they would spend the rest of the breakfast talking spying methods. Bond knew that for a senior agent he was actually getting better, it was as if this was his resurrection. A lot of the junior agents were confused about how he had gone from almost down and out to better than them again, in such a few short months. They went to the gun range whenever they had spare time too, and his aim was getting shockingly better. It was never going to be the same since he had been shot, but he was close to where he had been. It should have surprised him how well he and Silva worked together, how Silva helped draw out the best of him, but it didn’t. He wondered if the same went for Silva.
He finishes his meal and wipes his mouth, “Delicious as usual.”
“I thought you would enjoy.” Silva taps his watch, “Now come. You have to be off no?”
James checks his watch and almost chokes on his tea. He was going to be late. He took a last sip of his tea and then stood up and grabs his bag, “Q should be coming over in a few minutes, do try to not get into too much trouble with him.”
Silva clutches his heart, “Me? Oh James you wound me.”
James rolls his eyes and opens the door stepping into the cold English air. The door closes behind him with a click. He walks a few blocks down and then hails a taxi to the airport. The ride will take a good amount of time so he pulls the folder out to study it. He is going back to China he notes. The first time since he had been sent there after Silva. He continues reading on, something about gun trafficking and some British man. It matters little; he will get in, kill the man, get whatever information M wants, and then get out. He scans it again to memorize faces and then closes the folder. London traffic is being messy this morning it will most likely take almost an hour to get to the airport. He considers calling Silva but then decides against it. The car rolls down the street and he allows himself to fall asleep for a little while. When he wakes up the car is entering the airport terminal. The taxi stops in front of the British Airway gate and he gets out pulling the bag with him.
He pays his fare and then pulls the tickets out of the small pocket in his bag. He checks his watch, he still has about an hour and a half until his flight takes off. So he walks over to one of the airport’s nondescript cafes and orders a second tea and a scone. He eats the scone thinking back to his first meeting with Silva. Something about this mission is making him nostalgic.
He remembers looking at Silva and seeing a hunter and seeing a little bit of himself. Seeing a man who was broken. But also seeing something powerful that he could not help but be drawn to. He is glad Silva survived he cannot act like he is not. He has not thought the words since Vesper but he thinks that very much in his own way, he is in love with Silva. He has never says the words out loud but he thinks Silva knows it too, and that Silva loves him back in his own twisted way. He takes a final sip of his tea and then stands up. He walks over to the security line and pulls out his passport and ticket. The line moves slowly but for the most point efficiently. He is close to the end of the line when his phone rings.
It takes him a moment to realize that it’s not the disposable phone that MI6 gives him when he goes on missions. The phone that is ringing is the one that Q played around with and made untraceable, the one that the four of them use. It really was just a security measure but James is glad that Q had thought of it. The way that he and Silva had been keeping in contact really hadn’t been safe. He reaches inside his bag and pulls it out, “Hello?”
Q’s voice answers him, “Bond. I have to make this quick. I’ve sent Eve up to talk to M to distract him but I do not know how long she can last.”
A sinking feeling slowly creeps into Bond’s stomach, “Well then, speak.”
“I wasn’t able to met up with Silva this morning, apparently this China case needed all hands on deck. I called him and told him I would be checking in other ways. He laughed.” Q pauses, “I’m getting sidetracked.”
“Just spit it out.” Bond tells him.
“As of about forty minutes ago he was at a café a good distance from your apartment, safety reasons of course. I called him about twenty minutes ago and when he didn’t answer I assumed he was being a bit of a prat.” There is another pause, “007, MI6 went into critical lockdown about ten minutes ago. I overheard M talking about calling you off this mission.”
His other phone starts to ring. The disposable one, the one that is only used for MI6 emergencies. He knows what Q is going to say before he even says it, wishes he could will the words away, but knows that he cannot.
“They have him Bond. MI6 has Silva.”