Summary: Q, looking to tie up some loose ends regarding the case they’d just solved, knocks on DI Bond’s office door late one night. Naturally, Bond is more than willing to distract him from paperwork but doing so forces Bond to admit what he’s been feeling for Q may not just be attraction...
A submission to the 2020-2021 00Q Reverse Big Bang from @00qreversebang
Inspired by @azure7539arts‘s absolutely gorgeous piece of art “Late Night Collaboration”
A prompt fill for the incomparable @alexandre00q whose prompt was
“Defenestration is my favorite word.”
Mission Report
“Double-Oh Seven returned his kit, I take it?” Q didn’t bother looking up from the tablet in his hand as he passed by R’s station.
“Uh, sir? About that…”
It wasn’t at all like R to hesitate or stutter and Q stopped mid-step.
“What about it?” Q ground out as he turned back to look at her. “He ‘lost’ the bloody rifle again, didn’t he?”
R paused. “He…hasn’t been by.”
Q narrowed his eyes at her in confusion for a moment before diverting his attention to his tablet. “He was supposed to get in at seven this morning. It’s half three.”
“He did get in then,” R paused to pull up a few screenshots from security cameras in and around MI6. “From what I gathered, he’s debriefed with M already, checked in with Medical, and swam some laps.”
“And where is he now?” Q didn’t bother suppressing the moue twisting his lips.
R cleared her throat. “According to computer logs, he’s in his office, working on his After Action Report and…playing Solitaire.”
Q snorted, convinced she was having him on. As if James Bond would complete an AAR in anything close to a timely manner. He took in R’s serious and rather apologetic expression and sobered.
“Oh, bollocks.”
—————————
“‘Defenestration,’ Bond?” Q threw the AAR on his desk and began to pace in front of the chair Bond had planted himself in without invitation.
He kept his face politely neutral in spite of Q’s increasing ire. “Q?”
The Quartermaster stalked back to his desk and snagged the offending paper from its surface.
“‘Tracker [prototype] attached to previously cited myrmidon (Section 2, subsection B); destroyed via defenestration,’” he read out loud, his voice rising. “‘Defenestration’ — are you fucking kidding me?”
Q belatedly thanked whatever deity was responsible for Bond shutting his office door when he’d strolled in. He stalked to his office windows overlooking the bullpen and snapped the blinds shut.
Bond barely managed to stop himself from smiling at his Quartermaster’s outburst. “Of course not, Q.”
“So you can take the time to crack open a thesaurus while writing your bloody report but not keep track of my goddamn prototype? Which you stole!” Q wheeled around to point an accusatory finger in Bond’s face. “You’re a thief. You’re a bloody thief!”
“Defenestration is my favorite word,” Bond drawled in explanation as he reached up to take Q’s hand in his.
“Not, it’s not,” Q scoffed. “Your favorite word is probably four letters long and not suitable for polite company.”
Bond gently straightened out Q’s fingers and shifted forward to get closer to the other man. He brought the hand up to his mouth and began pressing light kisses across the back of it.
“The fact that you were able to comprehend and correctly use a five-syllabic word far exceeds any expectation I’ve ever entertained about your intellect, Double-Oh Seven,” Q continued undeterred, his tone clipped. “Based on your performance in the field and your history concerning your equipment, I’d think anything beyond three syllables would push your brain to its limits.”
Bond nipped at the tip of Q’s middle finger. “Now you’re just being mean…”
Q could feel Bond’s lips caressing his palm as he spoke, a light puff of air followed by the scrape of stubble. Loathe though he was to admit it, he could already feel the tension leeching from his shoulders as the fight drained out of him.
Sensing the subtle change, Bond pulled Q to him with a gentle tug on his wrist. He reluctantly settled himself into a more comfortable position in Bond’s lap, still frowning.
“I hate you. I really, really hate you,” Q sighed.
Bond nodded cooperatively as he leaned in to capture Q’s mouth. Q wanted to resist purely out of spite, but the pressure of those lips against his own proved too much. He kissed back with increasing fervor, just managing to reign in a moan when James caught his lower lip with his teeth. James pulled away and leaned back far enough to look into Q’s eyes.
“I am sorry, love.” Bond had the good sense to look contrite.
“Yes, well…as you should be.” Q righted his askew glasses and sat up straighter. “It still doesn’t make up for the fact that my tech is — Christ, do you have any idea how much time and money went into that tracker? Even if it was in pieces, I still would’ve happily accepted it and been able to analyze-”
Bond shut him up effectively with another kiss.
“It worked perfectly. I wouldn’t have found their headquarters without it. And I still have the phone so you can at least analyze the information it got from the tracker,” Bond argued. “And next time, I promise I’ll remember to remove the tracker from the guy I’m fighting to the death before throwing him out the window.”
“Damn right you will.” Q twined his arms around James’s shoulders and relaxed against him for a gentle kiss. “Sorry I yelled. I’ve just…I missed you.”
The corner of Bond’s mouth quirked up at the sentiment.
“I missed you too, darling. Can we go home now?”
Q arched an eyebrow at Bond. “Don’t think I’ve forgiven you so quickly, Double-Oh Seven. It’ll take a lot to get back in my favor again.”
“Would picking up curry and a bottle of Shiraz help, perhaps?”
“It’s a start. I appreciate where your mind is headed,” Q smiled, slipping off his lap only to bracket Bond in between his arms and the chair, “but I expect you to be a bit more imaginative than that.”
There was no mistaking what Q meant as his heated gaze slipped down Bond’s face and chest, landing on the bulge pressing against the front of his trousers.
“I’m sure I’ll rise to the occasion.” Bond smirked.
Q hummed and stood back to lean against his desk, allowing Bond to get up. He crossed his arms and grinned.
“See that you do.”
Bond left Q’s office smirking. No, he wasn’t absolved yet—not by a long shot. But getting back on Q’s good side was a challenge he’d always meet with enthusiasm.
I’m sneaking in just before midnight on the West Coast so this technically still qualifies for Moneypenny Monday, right? ;)
A fic fulfilling the “Moneypenny friendship” and “Reverse a common trope” for the Trope Prompt Table (004) by @mi6-cafe
avi•o•pho•bia
—————
“Your target,” M said as he handed the file folder over to Q, “and your tickets to Hong Kong. Double-Oh Nine will be waiting for you in a silver MG6 in Car Park 4. ”
Q nodded, opening the file to skim the first page. M hesitated before continuing, waiting for Q’s attention to be back on him.
“I know it’s a bit. . .unusual, this. But we wouldn’t be sending you if we didn’t think it completely necessary.”
“I understand. A paper file feels a bit nostalgic, really,” Q smirked, holding it up. “I’ll be sure to destroy it after reading.”
“Yes, well, that’d be a good idea. To have our analysts worried about just having his name in our system, you’d think the mere mention of it would alert him to our presence,” Mallory sighed and shook his head. “But no, I apologize about having to send you on such a. . .lengthy flight.”
Q shrugged and slipped the file into his messenger bag.
“All in a day’s work, sir. I don’t mind a bit of field work now and then. It gives me a bit of perspective about what agents deal with out there; it can come in handy during the design process. Is there anything else?”
M studied him for a moment, feeling a bit like they weren’t having the same conversation.
“Uh, yes. I took the liberty of contacting Dr. Smythe ahead of our briefing. If you’d like to swing by Medical, she’d be happy to provide you with something to make the trip more bearable.”
Q frowned, hiking the strap of his messenger bag up higher on his shoulder as it began to slip.
“I’m afraid I’m not following.”
M shifted uncomfortably.
“Ms. Moneypenny informed me some time ago of your—er, aviophobia, is it?”
“Ah,” Q frowned and he looked down, fidgeting with the fraying cuff of his cardigan, “I see. Well, don’t worry about me, sir. I’ll be fine.”
M cleared his throat as he sat down behind his behemoth desk.
“Of course, Q. Good luck in the field.”
—————
As he rode the lift up to Moneypenny’s flat, Q took a deep breath and tried to relax his shoulders for the first time in what felt like months, despite it only having been two weeks. He hadn’t been lying when he told M he enjoyed being in the field occasionally, but it was good to be on home soil once more.
His physical presence had actually been required this time and taking down their target had challenged Q in a way he hadn’t been in a long while. And even though the target had been taken care of, Q was positive it wasn’t the last they’d see of his network.
The doors of the lift opened with a laconic ding.
Q knocked on Moneypenny’s door moments later and wasn’t kept waiting. Eve flung the door open with a sunny smile and Q couldn’t help returning it.
“I got Pad Thai,” he said, toeing off his shoes as Eve grabbed the take away bag from him.
“Did you know you’re my absolute favorite?” She said, pulling plates out of the cupboard. A bottle of red was already breathing on the counter, two empty wine glasses beside it.
“You say that to everyone, Eve,” Q snorted as he poured them each a generous portion.
“Yes, but I actually mean it with you.” Eve grinned, opening up one of the containers and inhaling the spicy-savory-sweet steam it emitted. “When’d you get in?”
Q paused to think and shook his head.
“Fuck if I know—I technically left tomorrow? My body has no idea what time is anymore.”
Eve giggled as she dished them both heaping platefuls.
“Well, it is eight o’clock on Friday night and you, my love, are in for a much needed wine and whinge night.”
He toasted her before taking a healthy slug of his wine.
She grabbed their plates and chopsticks while Q managed to pick up Eve’s glass and the bottle of wine, following her to the living room. They settled beside each other on the couch, the coffee table acting as a suitable substitute for the dining table.
Q recognized the grin on Eve’s face as she turned towards him and he narrowed his eyes.
“What?” He asked warily.
“You. Double-Oh Nine. Hong Kong. Spill everything,” she gushed.
He sipped at his wine primly before setting the glass beside his plate with a theatrical sigh.
“Nothing to spill, really. The target’s network was well beyond anything Alex could have hacked and he needed help. To be honest, I was almost stumped at one point but managed to get in with a brute force attack using—“
“So it’s Alex now, is it?” Eve interrupted, just before shoveling noodles into her mouth.
“It is his name, isn’t it?” Q picked his plate up and shrugged. “You don’t spend two weeks in a rather cozy safe house without getting to know each other a bit better…”
Eve emitted a high pitched noise that Q was fairly certain could be classified as a squeal.
“I knew it! I knew he wasn’t just hanging around Q-Branch because he was ‘interested in computers.’ Interested in your arse, more like it.”
“Eve!” Q admonished, laughing. He paused to pick up his wine when a thought struck him. “By the way, you wouldn’t happen to know why M thinks I’m terrified of flying, would you?”
Eve coughed, inhaling a noodle on accident as she swallowed. It took her half the wine glass to be able to speak again, but Q wasn’t entirely sure that it wasn’t because she needed some time to form a response.
“It. . .Well, I—,” She started before deflating a bit and slouching back into the couch cushions, “Shit, I’m sorry, Q. It wasn’t something I thought would become a thing, really. . .”
“What would become a thing?”
“I may have sort of implied to M—not Mallory—that you were afraid of flying?”
“Why? When?” Q blinked, trying to process her response.
“Ugh, it’s stupid. I swear I thought it would just be that Shanghai mission, really.”
“Wait, Bond’s Shanghai mission? Before—“
“Yeah. . .I—,” Eve’s gaze had become fixed on a spot next to her wine glass. “We had just lost so many people and you were just settled into your position but the mission wasn’t something that needed you specifically there and. . .”
She cleared her throat, trying to rid it of the hoarse tone coloring it as she went on. Silence stretched between them before Q reached out to take her hand.
“And?” He rubbed his thumb against the back of her hand.
“I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you too.” She looked at him, sadness etched in her smile.
“Come here,” he shifted on the sofa to pull her into a fierce hug. Releasing her, he pressed a kiss to her hair. “I get it. It’s okay.”
Pulling back, she surreptitiously wiped a stray tear from her face.
“I’m sorry. Somehow I think it ended up in your personnel file because Tanner started talking about it out of the blue and I couldn’t find the right time to correct it or—“
“Eve, really. It’s okay. Please, don’t be sorry,” Q paused, settling back against the couch cushions, shoulder to shoulder with her. He continued in a soft voice, “Thank you.”
She frowned and she echoed his words back to him.
“‘Thank you?’”
He smiled and nudged her shoulder with his own. “Yeah, thank you. You’re the first person who has ever cared enough about me to put their own life in danger over mine. That’s. . .it means a lot to me.”
A soft smile bloomed on her face and she nudged her shoulder against his in return.
“Anytime, Q.”
Q handed Eve her plate again and silence engulfed them once more as they ate, content to enjoying the other’s presence for a bit.
After some time, Q leaned forward and topped both of their wine glasses off before handing Eve hers.
“I have my pilot’s license, you know,” he mused. “Just a private license, of course, nothing excessive. But when you do manage to access that personnel file, maybe put something in about exposure therapy or whatever.”
Eve gaped at him before laughing, gobsmacked, into her wine glass.
He smiled to himself, pleased he could still surprise his closest friend when they dealt in secrets for a living.
“So,” she eventually drawled, wicked grin returning, “just how cozy was this safe house?”
Q hid his irrepressible grin behind his wine glass before responding.
“Oh, the standard bare-bones affair. . .of course, in places that size, there’s really only room for a single bed. . .”
Eve’s jaw dropped.
“You didn’t.”
“He was a perfect gentleman—offered to sleep on the sofa and everything. But I managed to convince him we’d get along just fine in the same bed.”
“And?”
“Oh, we got along just fine,” he smirked.
“You hussy! That first night?”
“The next morning, actually.” He gifted her with a perfectly innocent expression. “There are only so many options one has when they wake up to their bedmate’s erection pressed against their thigh.”
Listening to Eve’s playfully jealous whinging about Double-Oh Nine made Q’s heart lighter than he could remember it being.
Was she a bit too invested in his love life? Perhaps. But he couldn’t bring himself to deny her any of the information she wanted.
