Ok can I request that James finds a box full of kittens on one of his missions and against his judgment, he took them home. Q finds out when he hears meowing coming from James' coat pocket.
Oh my god, I’m so sorry this took so long to finish! I know you’ve been waiting!
And so, without further ado, here is just about the fluffiest thing I’ve written in a really long time.
Bond flung himself around a corner and skidded to a stop, landing hard on his backside in the dust behind the building. He winced. The unforgiving Tunisian sun beat down, a sweltering 40 degrees, and he ran his forearm across his forehead.
Footsteps approached, and Bond crouched, ready to spring away, but they passed without looking down the narrow alley he’d ducked into. Bond relaxed against the wall. With no radio and no weapon, he was on his own to get back to London. But at least he had the thumb drive. Bond didn’t pretend to know what all Q was going to do with the information Bond had collected, but he had collected it, so perhaps the third missing Walther wouldn’t sting so much.
He sat there for a few more minutes, catching his breath, then picked himself up, tugged his cuffs into place, and walked towards the other end of the alleyway. Halfway down, he heard something soft and desperate coming from a cardboard box shoved unceremoniously between two skips.
For a minute, Bond was afraid of what it might be. Of the creature that was calling, with its last breath, for help. Bond steeled himself for whatever was inside, being unable to leave anything helpless that way for long.
He flipped open the box, and deflated. Inside were three scrawny tabby kittens. They weren’t in good shape. They looked up at him with big, anxious eyes, and Bond, grumbling all the while, lifted them into his coat. He couldn’t very well leave them to their fate now that he’d been dramatic about it.
He acquired a bottle of water from a street vendor a few blocks away and ducked into another alley to pour the water into an old takeaway container for the kittens to drink from. If they’d survived in an alley this long, they weren’t going to snub their nose at a makeshift water bowl, unlike the prissy monsters Q considered pets. Bond shuddered just remembering the last time Q had brought the beasties into Q-branch. Repellent.
The kittens purred as they drank, and the next order of business was to find some kind of food. Bond shook his head. He really shouldn’t be wasting time with the cats. He should be finding a plane home. But, as he rose to walk away, the largest of them toddled after him on unsteady legs and meowed at his heels.
“Oh, alright,” Bond said, sighing.
Q glanced up as Bond loomed over his worktable, cradling his left arm against his stomach—likely favoring an injury that he was too stubborn to go to Medical about.
“You ought to get that looked at,” Q said, nodding at the arm. Uselessly, he knew, but he felt responsible for his agents’ wellbeing regardless.
“Hm?” Bond frowned, then glanced down at his arm. “Oh, yes. Appointment tomorrow afternoon.”
Q blinked, not quite believing his ears.“Really?” This would truly be a first, and Q had the impulse to write down the date and frame it.
“Of course. I’m not completely irresponsible. Speaking of which, here’s your intel.” Bond pulled a flash drive from his pocket and tossed it at Q. And as Q caught it, he noticed something under Bond’s jacket, above his arm, shift in an impossible way given human anatomy.
Just as the words left his mouth, a small furry ear poked out from behind Bond’s lapel, followed by another, and then an entire kitten head was sticking out of Bond’s jacket blinking at Q.
“That’s Mustard,” Bond said, his eyes uncharacteristically soft. Then another head popped up next to Mustard. “This is Pickle.” And a third. “And here’s Horseradish.”
Q stared at the kittens. The kittens stared back. Then Pickle let out the tiniest mew, and Q had to fight to keep himself from smiling.
“You’re taking them to the vet tomorrow,” Q said as everything fell into place. Bond’s arm wasn’t injured, he’d been holding the kittens.
“Yes. What did you think I meant?”
“You’d be insulted if you knew,” Q mumbled, and then, more brightly, he asked, “Who’s going to watch them when you’re away?” Q wasn’t hoping, but he kind of was, that possibly Bond would ask him. It had been so long since Peanut and Jelly had been kittens. While he loved the calm routine of their lives now, he missed the curiosity and rambunctious energy of kittens.
“Well, I’ve been thinking about that,” Bond said, as Horseradish climbed his shirt. Bond plucked the kitten off and perched it on his shoulder. “And I think Bill would like it.” Q tried not to deflate too obviously. “He’s always going on about how much the kids want pets, and having them look after these beasties while I’m away is good practice.”
“Oh, of course.” Q kept his tone neutral, but the disappointment was visceral.
Bond stopped scratching Mustard’s head and peered at Q for a moment, then chuckled.
“Did you think that because you have two of the vainest, most aloof animals I’ve ever laid eyes on that I would let you look after these three?”
“Q, you are many things, please don’t add ‘foolishly sentimental’ to that list. You know as well as I do that you spoil those monsters.”
He was right, but Q wasn’t going to let him get away with it.“They are not monsters,” he said primly, and turned away. He fiddled with the flash drive for a bit, then began the preliminary scans of its contents.
Bond merely laughed as he walked back out of the branch, Horseradish still clinging to his shoulder.
Q rolled his eyes. Bond’s...Condiments wouldn’t go too long without being spoiled themselves. And then he got to thinking about the logistics of Bill and family actually caring for these kittens. Q couldn’t wait to hear all about how they’d destroyed the curtains and climbed into the warming cupboard. He’d give it three days, and Bill would be knocking on his door, begging him to take the Condiments off his hands.
Bond may have gotten the last word today, but Q would get the last laugh.
