goodfellow

Q

The last time Robin had seen Quentin, he had at some point boasted about the state of the security in his building. Apparently he had been overreaching in this confidence.

The first text was a photograph. It was of Robin's bedroom, taken with a camera with a very, very good zoom, from a building across the street. Angled slightly upwards, as the building was shorter, and Robin was in the penthouse. He usually didn't bother to close his blinds for this reason. And also because he didn't really care. Though he hadn't expected anyone to take advantage of that to photograph him.

Though it wasn't just him in the photograph: it was him and Quentin, from the one time they had had sex in Robin's home. Robin was on his back with his legs wrapped around Quentin, who despite his small stature was actually quite good at topping (and who had balked a bit when he'd seen the size of Robin's cock).

A text followed it: he's bored out of his mind. fucking you is like doing his taxes.

That was all that came, until the next day, when another photograph arrived. This one was also of Robin's bedroom, empty this time. An unmade bed. Except this time the photograph was clearly taken by someone standing inside the bedroom.

And following that picture were a string of texts detailing Robin's recent sexual encounters, each critiquing his performance in increasingly vulgar and cruel terms.

And at the end of those, a voice recording. Quentin's voice saying "I apologize, I'm not good company tonight. Perhaps I should go while you still have time to salvage your night."

A text followed: kind of him not to just tell you what utter rubbish you are. the little whore will fuck anything that moves, but he draws the line at you.

Robin grew more and more murderous as he read through all this, coming close to throwing his phone against the wall. In the end, he called Quentin, whom he hadn't spoken to since that night, and demanded to meet him. He chose a bar on the other side of the city from his apartment, and waited for him there.

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Q nearly declined- Not because he didn't want to see Rob, but because he was aware of what a minefield his life had become. The last thing he wanted was for an innocent bystander to lose a leg or something.

Rob seemed insistent though- Demanding even- and that made the young Quartermaster curious enough to agree.

He saw Rob as soon as he stepped inside, and he made his way over looking as calm and bland as ever.

"Rob," he greeted simply, offering the man a nod as he took a seat.

"Someone in your fan club has been harassing me," Robin said by way of greeting.

Rob had to say nothing more- Q knew exactly where this conversation was going and who had been harassing the man.

A quick sweep of his gaze found no apparent physical injuries, and the tone in Rob's voice was more indicative of wounded pride than wounded limbs. Verbal then. Perhaps some letters and photographs. Terrance did love his photographs... He always had.

"Show me them," he said simply, holding his hand out. "I'm sure you've brought them, so please, allow me to look at what he's sent you."

He only hoped it was photos of them being intimate- not something like what the man had sent Bond. Photos of what had happened in Paris- or even his life before MI6. There were things in his life that people like Rob didn't need to know about. He'd shelter the man as well as he was able.

Honestly, Robin didn't entirely want to show him. It was wounded pride, even though he knew it was stupid. But the thought of someone else reading those detailed critiques (unfounded and unfair, of course) made him twitch.

After a second, he sighed and pulled out his phone. He pulled up the texts and slapped the phone into Quentin's hand.

Q read each one, expression unchanged as he made his way through them. It was a curious attack, but a clever one. Terrance knew exactly where to stick the dagger- Both literally and figuratively.

Returning the phone, Q considered Rob for a moment. It was rare that Q showed kindness in any genuine form to those outside his carefully chosen circle of trust- But he did like Rob, and the other man hadn't signed up for this. He deserved something. A bandage at the very least.

"His critiques are false. I enjoy our time together very much. He simply has knowledge of some of my more private desires, and as a result believes that everything outside of that must bore me," he said, tiptoeing carefully so as not to wound Rob's pride any more. "It's something that I would have eventually shared with you, I think. However..."

He wet his lips, hands folded on the table as he looked down at them and exhaled softly.

"...However, it might be best if you weren't to see me again."

Robin thought he recognized a bandage when he heard it, and though he supposed he appreciated the effort, that honestly wasn't even the important part at the moment.

Robin scowled. "I'm not intimidated," he said, "I'm annoyed. And my place is being swept for bugs and cameras as we speak."

"They'll find neither. If they were there, they were gone before you even made that call," Q assured him. "He's not some stalker- He's so much more frightening than that. He's a ghost of a man. You can't hide from him, you can't lock him out- And I'm the reason he's in your life, Rob. You're sweeping for bugs, but I assure you, they aren't your problem. I am."

Q rubbed his jaw with one hand, then rested his chin in his palm as he looked out the window.

"I imagine he's watching us right now. If not from the shadows, then via CCTV or security feeds." He was silent for a beat, then looked at Rob again. "You're really not intimidated? Because I assure you- You should be."

Robin did not respond well to threats, he never had. In the face of just this sort of situation he'd done some incredibly stupid things in the past. Sometimes it had been a bad idea, but he'd survived them all.

"Fuck him," he said, and leaned in to kiss him.

Q, however, was quite receptive to threats. He had been stabbed, Hannibal had been beaten, he'd been deceived by false Intel and then abducted. Bond was almost permanently on edge it seemed... All around him he saw chaos and threats of worse things to come.

He dodged the kiss and gave Rob a dark look.

"This isn't a game," he snapped. "This isn't about your bloody ego, it's about your life. You are in danger, you idiot."

Robin frowned again.

"My life? This? I am older than your entire bloody species. You don't know what danger is."

It occurred to him belatedly that despite their previous conversation where he'd verified that Quentin was aware of the supernatural world, he hadn't actually told him anything about himself. Oh, well. He supposed that considering the circumstances it was relevant information.

"Unless you're well and truly immortal, I really don't think you should be so bloody cavalier. Anything that can die, inevitably will. The fact that you're old does not stack the odds in your favour. I don't know what you are, and I don't care. This is dangerous, I am dangerous, Rob," Q hissed, his calm fading and the panic suddenly visible in his eyes as his mask of calm dropped away.

"I don't have many people I consider friends, Rob. I'd rather not wake up with one less."

Robin looked at him for a second, and then sighed. "If we leave here and you never see me again, the effect is very similar."

"It wouldn't be permanent," Q said, sighing a little and slumping in his seat. "Once things were under control, I'd reach out to you."

"And you've already made it clear you don't want my help," Robin said. "Look, I know there's more to you than meets the eye, but you could at least give me some sort of hint so that I know you're capable of handling this."

Q said nothing at first, jaw set as he looked away.

Eventually, however, he decided that the damage had already been done.

"I didn't lie. I am an IT guy of sorts. ...I just happen too be an IT guy of sorts who works for MI6," he said quietly, looking out the window rather than at Rob. "This isn't about that though. He doesn't want secrets or codes. He just- Wants me."

Robin's eyebrows leapt up into his hairline. He wasn't completely sure what he'd expected, but that was rather above and beyond.

He knew there was a reason he liked Quentin. He was a damn good liar.

"In that case, you're right, you probably don't need my help. And I am somewhat more alarmed if your co-workers haven't been able to handle this for you."

"They've tried and failed," Q said quietly. "I wasn't being unkind, Rob. My concern for your well being is sincere. You've become a target, and I'm not sure yet what that means."

"So far it means insulting my sexual prowess, which to be fair, was a damn good way to get under my skin." Robin looked at him for a second and then said, "You're an interesting puzzle. You seem sublimely un-ruffle-able. For one thing, you don't seem the least bit impressed, or even all that curious, about the fact that I'm a million years old. Give or take. And yet, this guy, he has ruffled you ten ways to Sunday."

Q rubbed his jaw again, then offered a small shrug. "What you are, how old you may be, has no influence on what I know about you. As far as I'm aware, you are a decent man. A touch arrogant, a bit egotistical, but a decent man... He is not. I'm an intelligent man, but I am not half as intelligent as he is. He is a mastermind, a powerful manipulator, who is morally devoid and dangerous when fixated.

I knew the sort of man you were within moments of meeting you. Not what you were, I admit, but who you were. I saw faults, but I also saw something good. I could see a devious man with a good heart, Rob. ...I lived under that man's thumb for years, and it wasn't until it was too late that I ever had even a fraction of a clue as to who he was. To someone like me- That's terrifying."

"So what do you do now?" asked Robin. "And Quentin... I'm afraid I'm already involved, regardless. I haven't seen you in a month, and I just got these texts. I guess I could be pissed off but I'd rather just help you deal with it."

"Common sense tells me I should run- But that isn't really an option," Q admitted. "Even if I could leave England, he'd find me. I suppose I just have to hope I find him first."

"When you told me about him last time you seemed horrified when I suggested having him killed," Robin said. Which, to be fair, knowing now that they were being listened to, might be part of the reason why the man had decided Robin was worth his attention.

"Just because I'm certain he's going to wind up dead, doesn't mean I want him dead. ...Though I'm not sure I want him alive either," Q admitted quietly.

"You've basically said he's evil," Robin pointed out. "And that he's coming after you and the people you care about. I don't exactly have a low bar for wanting someone dead, but I'm pretty sure that would be above it."

"He was my whole world for a very long time. That's not an expression or an exaggeration. He kept me in an apartment, not far from his home. He didn't let me go out, didn't allow me to socialize- And I was too young to know better. I allowed it, because I believed he loved me. He was all I had for a while- And he wasn't always unkind... He had his moments. Or, at least, he knew how to fake it enough that it felt real," Q replied quietly.

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