A headcanon prompted by @anyawen (any [00Q], #37. The tender ache when you press against a bruise)
Q has always been the sort to poke at things better left alone. (He wouldn’t exactly be very good at his job if he wasn’t.)
He’d pushed schoolmates and friends as a child, making pointed observations that he later learned would be more polite to keep to himself. He’d questioned teachers relentlessly when he felt they weren’t being clear, or when things simply didn’t make sense, and only felt vindicated when he wound up in trouble for it. He’d learned to push whatever technology he got his hands on past its limits, learned how to slip past boundaries he was never meant to pass (he feels less vindicated getting in trouble for that, but it earns him his job in the end, so it all turns out alright).
One habit in particular that his mother had despaired of was his tendency to poke at bruises as they healed – testing the give of the flesh as it colored from black and purple to green and yellow, feeling the way the ache would lessen over time when he tapped around the edges.
It’s a habit he never quite grows out of, and one he doesn’t feel inclined to break when Bond goes out on missions, and it feels as though the shape of his mouth and the dots of his fingertips bruised into Q’s skin are the only thing he’s left with. The ache isn’t a fascination, then, but a reminder, and a keepsake to hold onto until Bond returns.
