Fandom: James Bond (Skyfall '12)
Characters/Parings: 00Silva aka Bond/Silva, Q/Moneypenny aka $Q or really £Q
Word Count: 1,092
Summary: Bond and Silva throw a dinner party with Q and Moneypenny. Part of Towards Dawn.
A/N: More Bonding fic, more fluff, more Silva being cute with Eve and Q.
It’s late in the evening when the door bell rings. Bond is almost done with putting the finishing touches on the table. He lights the last candle and yells back into the bedroom, “Can you get that?”
He hears Silva sigh, “I’m getting dressed darling, you’re going to have to get it yourself.”
Bond sighs and walks over to the door and opens it. Q and Eve smile up at him. Eve hands him a bottle of wine, “For the dinner.”
Eve and Q step inside and Q goes to hang up their coats. While he is doing so Bond brings the wine to the counter and uncorks it. He’s a bit nervous, but both Q and Eve had cornered him at work, and told him that they wanted to have a dinner. Eve had muttered something about wanting to get to know the man, who had protected her at the convention. When Bond had questioned her about it she had blushed and said it was nothing. Eventually Q had explained what had happened and where they had been. They wanted to get to know Silva, he repeated Eve’s words. The man they thought Silva was, was not the man he had become. James had been stunned. They told him they would love to have it at their house, but Bond had argued against it. His house was safer in the long run. They would have to come there. In the end Q and Eve had agreed. So here they were, and James wondered how everything would work, if they could all get along.
Bond pours the wine. While he’s doing so Silva comes out from the bedroom. He’s wearing a darker suit, navy in color. James thinks he looks almost handsome. He hands the glasses to everyone and they gather around his smaller kitchen table. He’s prepared a small dinner. There is a small roast and a platter of asparagus. There is also a salad. Q looks at it a little afraid, “I have to say, this isn’t what I was expecting.”
Eve pats his arm, “That’s because you are used to your ramen cups in your batcave dear. This is real people food.” She takes potions of each and takes a small bite, “It’s good.”
Next to her Silva smiles slyly and takes a sip of his wine, “I’m glad you like it.”
She turns to him, “You made it?”
James laughs, “Silva is a bit of a cook. Although he can only…” He trails off.
“Only what?” Q asks.
Silence descends over the table. Eventually Silva speaks, “It is of no bother. It would come out eventually would it not? Only soft things. Only liquids.”
Around the third day of them living together Bond had slow realized that he hardly saw Silva eating. It had taken him a little while but eventually he had confronted Silva with the knowledge. There had been a moment where Silva hadn’t spoken and then he had told Bond what the cyanide had done to him. He could still eat he said, it was close to a miracle that he could. But he could only eat soft things. He could have liquids too, thankfully. That night Bond had done his best, and cooked mashed potatoes and spinach. It had been the first night they had really eaten together. The next night Silva had made him something and watched him eat, pleased. Now they alternate nights.
Eve pauses, “Oh.” She takes a small bite of roast.
In the end it’s Q that breaks the tension that has settled over room, “I saw an unknown user in the MI6 database recently. I didn’t alert anyone because I assumed it was you, was that wrong?”
Silva chuckles, “Ah. No, not wrong.”
Bond stares at Silva, his stare almost glacial, “Are you trying to get yourself caught? And what are you doing poking around MI6?”
When Silva grins he is reminded just whom he is dealing with. Silva takes a sip of wine and then leans back in his chair, “James, James. We are rats, we cannot help but be curious. But like a rat in a cage I mean no harm, I just wish to poke. To check up.” He looks at Q, “He only caught me because.” He stops, and pauses. Does not continue.
Q smirks, “You don’t want to say it’s because I’m as good as you.”
“Hmmmm?” Silva’s lips tighten.
He is only playing Bond realizes. He is a caged animal that only gets to come out to play when Bond is home. And he only behaves because he likes James. Next to him Bond sighs and accepts this. Across the table Q doesn’t look too happy but then he breaks out into a smile, “It’s good to have actual competition.”
Bond isn’t sure exactly what happened, why Q is smiling, but he think’s it’s something like what he and Silva have on the level of spies. Only it’s on an intellectual level. He’s not upset. In fact for the most part he’s actually relived. Silva has the habit of going off into data filled rants that he cannot follow. Now at least he will not be the person that Silva rants too.
The rest of the dinner passes quickly. They talk freely, the wine leading them to talk about the things they don’t talk about much. Q and Eve get into another argument in front of them, something about Sherlock Holmes and comparing the US and UK versions. Eventually Silva enters the fray surprising both Q and Eve, and even Bond himself. By the end of it all he knows is that is that Q is flushing and Eve looks victorious. He takes another sip of wine and wonders if M would approve of this, realizes he doesn’t give a ruddy fuck. It seems odd but he feels like he’s finally found a family here. They are all horribly broken, but this feels real.
Silva stops in the middle of listening to whatever Q is saying, and looks at him, “This is nice no?”
James nods, “It is.”
Eve slaps her hand on the table, “To whatever this is. To the future.” She stops to laugh and then finds she cannot stop.
“To going against the grain, going insane, going mad.” Silva tips his glass at her.
She gapes at him, “You know Rent too?” and then dissolves into laughter again.
They begin talking once more and while Q looks on at Eve in wonder James smiles, yes, this is good.