Worrywart
Notes: Okay not all of my prompt replies are going to be ANYWHERE near this long probably BUT this has been sitting in my drafts for a while AND will technically contain the ask from this anon for kiss prompts:
I hope you enjoy, nonnie
Warnings: Fluff! Domestic Bond and Pup from the Old Dog ‘Verse
Summary: Regardless of having his own place, Bond hardly ever occupies it. His mail (the little bit that he gets) is directed to your flat. He has no clothing at his flat; M's bulldog token to him now sits on your mantle, beneath the television, beside the framed picture of Holly and Bernard in their Christmas costumes.
"Are we getting up?"
"...Not yet," Comes James grumbling answer. It's mumbled against the nape of your neck as his arm tightens around your middle.
"We'll have to at some point," You glance back, "Holly and Bernard need to be walked."
"They're still asleep."
"How do you know that?"
"They'd be scratching at the door if they weren't. They're as impatient as you are."
"Really?" You smile, "I think they take after their father in that respect." You squirm as James pokes your middle.
"It's too early to bicker, Pup."
"I don't think it's ever too early for that."
James hushes you, snuggling closer.
"I've just gotten back, love. I'm not in the mood."
Your teasing goes soft with the endearment. You hesitate before you shift, rolling over to face him. Once he realizes that you're not rushing to get up, James loosens his grip just enough to allow you to adjust. He smooths his hand up under your shirt as you settle back down. His eyes are still closed; his blonde head is dimly haloed by the sunlight pushing in through the curtains behind him. You raise a hand to cup his roughening cheek, careful to avoid touching the small cut on his cheekbone.
"...You didn't tell me how it went," You murmur.
"It's not important.”
"It is to me."
"...It was fine."
"James."
“Don’t be such a worrywart.”
He turns his head, brushing his lips along your palm. You push a soft sigh out through your nose, closing your eyes. The two of you lay there in the early morning quiet, settling back into sleepiness for a little while. When you hear the scratching at the door, you lift your head, glancing back toward it. You grin as James groans, turning his head and pressing his face into the pillow.
"I've got them,"You offer.
"Hang on,"James uses his grip on you to tug you closer. His eyes are still closed, and you smile as his lips blindly seek out yours. He brushes a kiss to your chin, your cheek.
"You've almost got it—you've almost—" You giggle, grinning when his lips finally smooth over yours. You curl your fingers under his jaw, kissing James warmly. The touches linger, lips slipping tenderly along one another's—until you hear Holly whine.
"Okay," You murmur, drawing back from James, "I can't hear that, it breaks my heart."
"You're such a soft-touch these days," James sighs, flopping back in bed. You reach down, tweaking his nose before you stand, heading for the dresser. You get changed into joggers and a comfy sweater before you sit on the edge of the bed to pull on socks. You have to fight the urge to giggle as James' foot nudges along your thigh.
"Having fun back there?"You ask.
"Get back quickly."
"So bossy. We'll see what the babies want to do."
"Must I bat my eyelashes and say please?"
You roll your eyes, turning to look at James, and grinning when you find him gazing at you sleepily.
"I'll put the coffee on before I go out," You reach down, patting his calf before standing.
--
When the puppies (they're not really puppies anymore, but they'll always be puppies to you) charge back into the apartment, you hear the scratching and scrambling of paws charging for the kitchen.
"You're lucky it wasn't raining out," You call out as you shrug out of your coat.
"Oh?"
"Mm. I'd've had to wipe down their paws. I'd be making you mop up the floor right now."
"I checked before I put their food out."
"Good boy, old dog," You tease as you stroll into the kitchen. James shakes his head a little bit, a smile adorning his lips as you lean in for a gentle peck. James' arm snakes around your middle, tugging you closer before you can pull away. He groans softly as the kiss grows deeper, his tongue slipping between your lips. You loop your arms around his shoulders, gently pressing them into his skin before drawing away. You smile, sliding a hand up into his sleep-mussed hair.
"Love that you've neglected a shirt this morning," You tease.
"The apartment's warm enough."
"Mm. Giving the neighbors an eyeful."
James chuckles, nudging your nose with his.
"Don’t be jealous. Coffee?"
"Please."
James lets go of you just long enough to push a mug closer to you on the counter.
"You're a saint," You mutter, stepping back.
"Innumerable sources would disagree with you," James comments, heading for the fridge. You push yourself back to sit on the counter, glancing over to where Holly and Bernard are chowing down.
"I'm surprised you're up," You admit.
"Of course I'm up. I was told there would be coffee."
You smile, watching James putter around the kitchen. He still has his own flat, but it’s simply to keep up appearances at HQ. It's all for show; Mallory is more than aware of your entanglement with the double oh these days. He hasn't acknowledged it openly, but in your time working as a handler, you've come to recognize his displeasure or disapproval with a look. You'd had one such a look when you'd returned from your brief excursion helping Breanna. Of course, that disapproval may've been related to your undertaking a non MI6-related mission and potentially endangering a relationship with a foreign government by acting alone...Or it would've be interpreted as such, if Mallory's eyes hadn't darted from the back of Bond's head, then to you, narrowing slightly in the process.
Regardless of having his own place, Bond hardly ever occupies it. His mail (the little bit that he gets) is directed to your flat. All of his clothing is in your dresser and closet; M's bulldog token to him now sits on your mantle, beneath the television, beside the framed picture of Holly and Bernard in their Christmas costumes.
"How hungry are you?" He asks.
"Slightly...Don't forget, we're going to Eve’s tonight for dinner."
Bond grunts, and you can't help but grin in turn.
"C'mon, you love it, really," You tease, "It's good for you to socialize, old dog."
James shoots you a sidelong glance as he rifles through the fridge before he turns back, taking out the eggs, bread, milk, and setting them on the counter.
"What are you making, then?" You press.
"French toast."
"You're too good to me."
--
“There you are—Christ, hurry in,” Eve insists. “You look half-drowned.”
“I couldn’t get away from the office,” You sigh, “And then once I did, I couldn’t get an uber. They kept cancelling.” You shrug out of your coat, glancing down at your damp top. Maybe Moneypenny has one that you could borrow.
“About time,” Bond drawls from down the hall. You cast him an irritate glance, grumbling, “Don’t you start.”
His amused smile drops away as he gets a proper look at you, and he straightened up, sliding past Eve. You watch as he pulls his jumper off, his undershirt untucking slightly and revealing a thin strip of his belly.
“Bond,” You sigh softly as he steps closer, gesturing for you to remove your damp top. You glance toward an amused Eve, her grin wide as James shields your body with his. You hurriedly remove your shirt, hanging it up beside your coat before you let Bond pull the warm jumper down over your head. You catch on the scent of his cologne as he does, reveling in the warmth of him as you push your arms through the sleeves.
“You’re such a worrywart.”
“I should’ve brought you a spare,” Bond grumbles to himself as he draws the thick fabric down over your sides.
“You couldn’t have known I’d need one.” You gaze him with a warm, chastising smile before you reach up, cupping his cheek. “Thank you.”
James leans in, giving you a warm, gentle kiss before drawing away, his warm nose nudging your chilled one.
“My god, Bond,” Moneypenny sighs, leading the way into her living room. “Who knew you were such a romantic?”
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