Chapter Text
It was several days before Falk and Bond returned to active duty. Presents were piled upon Falk’s desk along with several helium balloons and a literal box of treats. He eyed them only to look away innocently when Bond caught his attention. The reptile smirked knowingly but continued looking through the pile without comment.
Minions were gathered at his door, whispered back and forth, dispersing when he shot them looks only for a new huddle to form minutes later. It took Falk stomping over, tail bristled, and hissing at them to go do some bloody work for the Q-branch minions to finally get to work. Falk fell into his ridiculously comfortable chair with a sigh, wincing as he nudged his tail.
Bond sat across from him, legs crossed, elbow on an armrest of his chain and his chin in one palm. He stared at Falk with pale, slitted eyes, an affectionate smile pulling his lips. He said nothing, prompting Falk to stare him down for a few moments before he grew annoyed.
“What?” he snapped.
Bond shrugged, “Nothing really, just looking at my mate.”
Falk stiffened and flushed, tail standing straight. He chittered and looked around, hands fiddling with the hem of his cardigan. Right, mates. That wasn’t something he’d ever considered before; not for himself nor for Bond. He hadn’t ever thought he’d find someone who wanted to settle down with a skittish, absent minded, always busy, married-to-his-work chinchilla. But here they sat; a stubborn chinchilla and a seductive reptile.
Bond’s laughter drew Falk from his mental tirade. “What?” Falk again asked, this time softer.
“You. You have this awe-struck look on your face. I keep thinking that I must look shell-shocked for how amazed I am that you want me.”
Falk’s cheeks flushed harder. “What do you mean by that? Of course I want you! Hell, who wouldn’t?” His fur bristled at that. Bond was better than just about anyone in MI6 and if anyone wanted to deny it he’d gladly call their bluff. Sure Bond was good at almost getting himself killed, and killing people, and blowing things up — causing millions in damage usually — but that didn’t mean he was any less gifted as a mate, if the last few days were any indication. At that thought Falk’s ears flopped forward to cover his eyes. Bond was definitely gifted in the uh, mate department.
“Anyone who’s met me, for starters.” The self-depricating grin made Falk hiss but Bond shushed him. “It’s more that I find you amazing, Q — Falk.” He stumbled a bit, used to calling Falk by his classification rather than his name. “Intelligent, feisty, independent, gorgeous,” Falk hunched down further with each compliment, embarrassed and thrilled at once. “I know what I am, who I am. But you’re, how do I put this…” Bond stared at his hands only to sign and look back up at Falk. “You’re better than I am. And I doubted I’d ever be as lucky as I am right now.”
He stood and came around the desk to stand between Falk’s legs, the chin staring up at him with wide, watery green eyes. Falk sniffed and Bond cupped his jaw. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted and I’m sorry it took me so long to work up the nerve to say so.” He grinned sheepishly before dipping down to kiss Falk sweetly.
“And as you know,” he murmured against Falk’s lips, “I have to go meet with M. I’ll be back later and we can have lunch. Sound good?” Falk nodded against Bond’s mouth, drawing the bigger man back for another kiss before he released the reptile, pinching his bum for good measure as Bond moved away.
The blond looked over his shoulder as he link, winking lecherously.
Falk shook his head and went back to the pile of paperwork hiding his tabletop. Time to get productive.
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Falk managed a few hours before someone dared visit him. Eight came striding through his door as if he owned the place, damn cat. The feline wore a wide, feral grin and a well pressed suit with shiny shoes. He flopped down in the seat across from Falk and crossed his legs, lacing his fingers across the knee of the top leg and grinning.
“Well now! I’m back! What did you have in mind for tonight? Italian? French? I haven’t spread this around but I can cook a mean pepper steak.” His too-white teeth glinted in the fleurescent light and Falk shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
“I’m busy.”
Eight paused, face momentarily stiffening in surprise before it melted back into a grin. “Aw, don’t be like that, you promised after all!”
“That was then, this is now. I’m not interested, Agent. Now deposit any and all returned equipment to R and be sure to file your after action report. Dismissed.” Falk looked back down at his paperwork, worry stiffening his spin and tightening the grip he had on his pen. The feeling of being stared at only increased though, rather than faded.
The chair across from him shifted, scuffing against the floor. Falk focused pointedly on filling out the form in front of him, even as a shadow eclipsed his light and made him frown. Hot breath on his neck though was the last straw and Falk drew back, frowning, ears flat. “What is it? I’ve dismissed you, you have work to complete, do you not?”
Eight was well within Falk’s personal space. His pupils were blown wide and the fur of his ears was bristled. Claws poked out from his fingertips resting atop the desk. Lovely, Eight was in a tizzy.
“You agreed,” the feline hissed. “Before I shipped out your promised me a date.”
Falk raised a brow with more bravado than he felt. “I did no such thing.”
“You did!” Eight snarled.
“Actually,” Falk corrected, “All I did was nod. And in case you’d forgotten I only did so after you invaded my personal space and all but forced yourself upon me. So no, agent, I owe you nothing. But,” and here he paused to tilt his head back, mouth pursed, “If you insist I can certainly have you indited for indecent workplace etiquette and harrassment. Against a superior no less.” The chin’s voice was low, soft. He would do this quietly, the way he wanted it to be. “So your choices are to back off and subsequently keep your paws to yourself from here on out, or find yourself posted in Antarctica. The choice is yours.”
Eight bristled further and stood back, wide eyes pinned on Falk. He inhaled, paused, then inhaled again. “Hah,” he chuckled. “So that’s it; gave yourself up to Bond for protection, huh? Too weak to tell me off without him backing you up?” He sneered at Falk, insult making his fingers shift back and forth between forms.
Falk stood, insulted. He stepped into Eight’s personal space and prodded the agent in the chest. “How dare you! You have no right to make such accusations! Yes, I took Bond as my mate. But that has absolutely nothing to do with you! If you wish to insist on inserting yourself into my love life though, fine; consider yourself to be an unwelcome suitor. I found my mate and I chose him because that’s what I want, who I want.” Falk and Eight were nearly of a height and Falk leant into the cat’s face so their noses nearly touched. “I don’t need someone else to fight my battles for me, agent, don’t ever think I won’t end you myself.”
The cat wasn’t fighting anymore, not like he had been ready to pounce on Falk second earlier. His ears were flat, drooping slightly, and his mouth was pursed. He looked away from Falk and down at the floor. Eight stepped back and nodded, biting his lip for a second before he spoke. “I...I’m sorry, Q.”
The apology caught Falk so unawares he jumped, startled.
Eight continued as though he hadn’t noticed. “I just...I’m not used to being turned down. And you? You were a fabulous chase, always right out of my claws, teasing me. I don’t like losing...but…” he looked back up at Falk and smiled faintly, sheepishly. “I’m sorry I let my temper get the best of me. And uh, I didn’t — I don’t mean any of what I said.” He rubbed the back of his head, so out of character from the cocky, seductive agent Falk had grown to grudgingly work with. “But uh, I do have a question for you.”
Spine straight Falk nodded, “What is it?”
Eight shrugged, looking again sure of himself. “Bond...does he...does he treat you well? Does he respect you, treasure you?”
Falk barely had to think, almost responding on instinct before he stopped himself and licked his lips. “Yes,” he answered, “But he also pushes me, tests me, makes me work and think. It isn’t a relationship where I rely on him for everything and he makes sure I’m still curious, still intrigued; eggs me on and picks fights just because he can.” The chin stopped as a smile blossomed across Eight’s face. “That’s what you want, isn’t it.”
It wasn’t a question.
Eight nodded anyway and Falk bit his lip. “I’m not sorry I chose Bond.”
“And neither am I.”
“But...I do have a suggestion.” Eight cocked his head, ears perked. “Have you ever considered Nine? He already knows how to keep you in line. And you work well together. Likely you’d do even better if you’d stop fighting him on absolutely everything.”
Understanding crossed Eight’s face and he turned, spinning on one foot and made for the door. He paused there to turn back, striding up to Falk and — before the chin could do anything — pressed a loud, smacking kiss to Falk’s mouth. Then the cat grinned, gave a salute, and flounced out of the room with a hurried, “Thank you!”
Between wiping his mouth and texting Bond, Falk grinned.
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Fin