#007g 2017

[akwelvhi]

007 fest 2017 about a year ago… 

I had a plan, which I did not quite follow.

This year, I have a plan again (which I will not quite follow).

[akwelvhi]

Q Branch headcanon

For Fluff Table Prompt - Trust

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MI6 thinks Q is omnipotent. Overlord of his branch of minions. Going toe-to-toe with the worst of the double oh′s. However, Q is human - shocking, but yes - he does have the brightest mind nestled behind his two eyes, but he only has ten fingers. And one bladder (as is normal for humans).

Q needs a few seconds to sip his tea. A minute to stretch, yawn, and rub at his tired eyes. A few minutes to run to the gents - after holding in seven cups of tea for the past 15 hours.

Q trusts his minions to hold fort. And the double oh′s grow to trust Q’s minions. That MI6 has every 00-moniker in unit filled with active, living, agents. Shows not only their competence, but the faith in Q branch and a confidence in their double oh’s.

Once, QB-J8 saved 004’s life, because of course shit decided to happened the moment Q stepped into the gents.

Twice, QB-A1 overrode the manoeuvring of drones equipped with darts. Away from 006, then towards the men pursuing 008.

Thrice, QB-M3 remotely created cover for agents 003, 002, 0011. Overheating lighting, malfunctioning sprinklers, faulty smoke vents.

Not to mention - all the doors they’ve locked and unlocked. Secure blueprints they’ve hacked. Surveillance systems they’ve overridden. Efficiently and timely executed, putting their double oh’s out of danger or in aid of the mission.

Many a time. It was a minion shouting out a double oh’s name - heart in their throat - before collapsing in relief as the agent reports back after a minute of gunfire. It was a minion on the other side of the comms, with a harried but grateful agent and their gruff thanks.

Oftentimes. It was a double oh, ordering food and ensuring the minions ate, and driving them home when they were quite likely to fall through the gap at the tube. 

The two teams may bicker and have snark wars. But in each other they trust their lives, for Queen and country. And so they say - To be trusted is a greater compliment than being loved.

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This triggered ^this. 

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[akwelvhi]

Biker!Q AU

Category: 007 Games 2017

For AU day & transformation prompt fill.

A wee little snippet because motorcycle-owning-Q is spawning this AU scene nibblelet.

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Q works as a DJ by night, and owns a motor-vehicle modification workshop by day. James owns the club Q works at, and several others as well. They flirt over shared snarks and Q takes James out for a ride.

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"Want a lift?" Q asked casually, like he hadn't brought an extra helmet for this opportunity specifically. James had been mocking Q's riding skills. Q had declared James would have his brains blown if he rode pillion. It was nearly 4 in the morning, quite the perfect opportunity indeed.

Knowing Q rode a bike was one thing. Actually seeing him perched with his legs splayed was another. Drinking in the sight of Q decked in a biker’s leather jacket, complete with probiker gloves and a HJC helmet that had more than one sticker on its surface. It really was quite the change from his usual drab jeans and t-shirt attire behind the DJ station.

His ride was a thing of classic beauty. Jet black seat covers contrasting beautifully against the chrome of the frame. Its straight-twin engine looked modified, but James couldn’t tell for sure from where he stood.

The smirk on James lips quirked in a way that fought back a smile. Sauntering confidently over to Q, who watched James approach with a smoulder that certainly took things up a notch. James swung his leg over and fitted himself closer than necessary against the DJ's leather clad back.

"If you want your brains intact." Q said, knocking the helmet against the knee that was pressed against his calf. Giving James an eye roll over his shoulder when the blond leaned even closer still, his fingers touching Q's purposefully before he took the helmet.

"Ready?" Q raised his voice, over the loud rumble of his modified engines.

"Blow my mind Q." James yelled back, his arms wrapping around Q’s waist. The bike must have gone from 0 to 50mph in a second, and breaking speed limits the next. James wrapped his arms tighter around Q as the wind whipped past them. The tension in Q’s body as he focused on weaving through the sparse traffic like a lunatic, the powerful hum of the machine between their legs.

James conceded on Q’s superior riding skills when they finally parked before the morning traffic could start. And Q conceded to James expert thrusting speed before the morning had even begun.

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[akwelvhi]

Q Branch Headcanon

For Fluff Prompt Table 005 - Pets & Gadgets

Q branch is an animal loving branch. The gadget inventing part is quite a given.

Maybe it was something of a job hazard, secret service and all. So 98% of Q branch employees, lived alone. With only their non-human companions for company.

The tally currently; 12 cats, 7 hamsters, 5 turtles, 3 dogs, 2 iguanas, a snake, a parakeet, a rabbit and an owl. 2 of the cats were Q’s. Val - head of cryptography - proud owner of Hedwig. And R - master of the beautiful Nagini.  

When Devin - head of R & D - fashioned an ultra carbon message carrier with satellite connected cameras and GPS, and gifted it to Val a few years ago. That sort of started it. 

Now all the pets with collars have at least a camera, speaker and GPS tracker installed. The hamsters and turtles were the first test subjects for a nanobot adhesive. The snake was a bit tricky, what with all the shedding. But they managed to peg a fiber optic sensor with the help of some local anesthesia. 

Q's cats of course has the best attachments. Turing has a bionic eye equipped with facial recognition scanners. And Keats has a smart blood chip prototype.

Q still lords over them with his patented cat pawprint and fur markings scanning algorithm. He puts it up as a prize for Q branch's year end hackathon. Val wins it much to the cat owners dismay.

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[akwelvhi]

Isolation

Category: 007 Games 2017

For Angst week. Angst prompt table - Isolation.

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Bond awoke suddenly to a persistent voice calling out his name repeatedly. Piercing blue eyes snapped open, looking around for the source of the voice, only to realise that it was directly in his ear. 

Having been knocked out and locked in a shipping container, which was currently en route to a warehouse along the Yenisei river. He was clearly disorientated enough to forget about the tiny receiver Q-branch had planted in his ear canal prior to the mission.

“007? 007? Report!” Panic was edging into Q’s tone of professionalism. 

Bond steadied his breathing, assessed his surroundings then himself, reporting the mission status back to his quartermaster who sighed in relief. With no knowing if or when his captors would return, Bond settled himself. As comfortably as one could be, injured and stuck in a cold metal box. With nothing to do but wait. 

“Tell me about the minions.” Bond asked, hoping to distract them both. The quartermaster huffed a dry laugh, a burst of static in his ear had Bond wincing in pain, not that a little bit more pain mattered at that point. His swim earlier and one too many blows to the head must have rattled the little receiver. 

“Yesterday,” Q began, “a large delivery of imported crisps was delivered to MI6. Security was concerned.”

“Large delivery hm.”

“Six foot by eight, bubble wrapped, cardboard box,” Q paused for effect, “of crisps.” Q groaned, remembering the monstrosity in the Q branch lobby - after it was cleared by administration and security. 

“Let me guess-” Bond hummed, a playful lilt in his tone. “From Japan.”

“Bloody- did you put them up to that?” Q exclaimed, then staring at his screen where a dot blinked red on the map of Krasnoyarsk.

“Unfortunately,” the agent sighed, “I can’t take credit for that.” 

“Cube has eaten herself into a croaking voice box, Phil managed to cut the sides of his mouth, the rest of them are coughing out a hospital orchestra.” 

Bond chuckled softly as Q ranted, the mental image of a Q branch covered in crisps crumbs.

“I don’t think you can blame the cough on the crisps.” Bond huffed a laugh, feeling oddly amused at his own sentence. Cough on the crisps. His shoulders shook as he huffed out quiet chuckles, lips pressed thin in a grimace. Laughing really wasn’t a good idea. 

Q seemed to have picked up on that, silence falling between them again as the momentary distraction lost its effect. Hours passed as Q listened closely to his agent’s breathing as his fingers flew across the keyboards.

“007.” Q called out, when the shallow breaths grew even harder to hear. 

“Bond, are you there?” Q heard the strain in his voice, he didn’t try to keep it out. It’s been close to 30 hours now since the double oh was locked up. Bleeding out, alone.

“Q.” Came the agent’s response, voice low and raspy as he straightened himself. Having slid down sideways as he listed away. He listened closely and tried to follow as his quartermaster led him though a few breathing exercises. Bond thinks he feels better, he’s not very sure, but at least Q’s voice sounds clearer in his ear.

Q branch had pinpointed 007′s location an hour ago, still on the river, edging closer to Divnogorsk. On a large shipping vessel, loaded with hundreds of shipment containers. It would take some several hours before the retrieval team reached their agent. 

“James.” Q’s voice is soft through the tiny speakers of the receiver.  “We’re on our way.”

The tightness in Q’s voice dredging up a memory of pale slim fingers clenched tightly against the agent’s back - the night he returned from Kosovo. It was the first time Bond had ever seen Q that distraught.

“I thought I’d look for my Walther first.” He tried to joke, hearing Q huff a laugh on the other end. 

“Never mind that now.” Q said. “Just hold on till we get there.”

“I think I can manage that.” He replied, before trying to fall asleep, hoping time would pass more quickly. 

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[akwelvhi]

Q Branch Headcanon

For Fluff Table Prompt - Home

Q Branch is home to Q and the minions alike. 

What with the amount of time they spend there, many call Q Branch their second home (if not their first).

Q may have his own office, with that old but comfortable sofa he sometimes sleeps on more often than his own bed.

But the minions have their sleeping bags, inflatable pillows, and a comfy nest they’ve made in a corner of their break room.

Often, after a long drawn out mission. Q could be found catching a nap in his office. While a few minions caught theirs in a tangled heap of limbs.

Bond pops by the break room whenever he comes by Q Branch, if only to fetch Q a tea refill.

So if he spies comatose bodies sprawled out in the beanbag corner. He’ll be sure to order something special to leave on the break room table. 

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[akwelvhi]

Fluff Prompt Table - Completed

Links to posts made for Fluff Prompt Table 005 :

Home - Headcanon

Pets - Fic. Headcanon

Habits - Headcanon

Transformation - Fic, Fic

Anniversary *Free Space* - Fic

Holiday - Fic

Reconciliation - Fic

Bed Sharing - Headcanon

Trust - Headcanon

Achievement unlocked! -is pleased with self- ^_____^

[akwelvhi]

Q Headcanon

Q Headcanon - Bed sharing 

Bed Sharing fill For Fluff Prompt Table 005.

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Q had always wanted a king sized bed. He realised sometime in his youth, that a single just wouldn’t do. Not when you had to share.

It all started when his bedside table grew too cluttered, and he had to place his laptop next to him on the single before falling asleep.

It got more crowded as Q grew older. When his phone, tablet and other tablet joined him in bed.

Then when Q got a place of his own, there was his cat. Then another cat. And another. 

When he moved into the new - more spacious, MI6 issued - flat. He bought the king he always wanted, and even outfitted a proper study-workshop for all his tinkering and experiments.

But every time Bond snuck into bed with Q, the agent would find himself sharing the bed with more than just Q and his cats. 

The charger head of Q’s phone would poke him when he stretched out his toes. The coiled length of a connecting cable brushing against his back. A thumbdrive or two under the pillow.

And always, a warm and pliant body, legs rubbing against his own.

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