Chapter Text
“You’re my new Quartermaster.” It was a statement, but the disbelief in the voice made it sound more like a question, and Q braced himself before turning around, ready for another round of questions about his age, his looks, his level of skill and the inevitable-- this must be a joke, where’s the real Quartermaster?
“Yes. Nice to meet you, 007.” Q said flatly, keeping his expression carefully blank as he studied the agent in front of him. Bond was still favoring his right shoulder, which wasn't a good sign, and he hadn't shaved in a few days either. The slight whiff of alcohol, but this was England, and he was an agent, so nothing less was to be expected. A stubborn jaw, and more frown lines than smile eyes, and glacier blue eyes that were studying Q just as intently as Q was studying him.
“Charmed, I'm sure.” was all Bond said after several minutes, and Q gave a short nod before going back to his computers, picking up his cup of tea and taking a sip before clicking back into his system.
“Oh, hello James!” Eve walked through the doors. “M is looking for you, but he wanted to be sure you met the Quartermaster first.”
“Yes, we’ve met.” Bond said without looking away from the back of Q’s head. “A bit young isn't he?” he lowered his voice so only Eve could hear him. “He’s still got his spots. How did Six even find him?”
“He found us.” Eve kept her voice appropriately quiet as well. “He hacked our system to download his own plans for our surveillance system, and then told the agents who tracked him down that it was about bloody time they found him, and if they had his system they would have found him faster.”
“Cheeky bastard.” Bond couldn't help the thread of admiration in his voice and Eve inclined her head in agreement.
“M thought so as well. Bloody brilliant though.”
“Hm.” Bond narrowed his eyes. “Little thing. I could break him in half if I wanted.” he put his hand on the small of Eve’s back and steered her towards the doors. “Lets go see what M wants, shall we?”
They were almost out of the room when the Quartermaster spoke again. “Bond?”
“Q.”
“You could try to break me in half, but I have my doubts as to your effectiveness.”
“What did you say?” Bond had taken three steps toward the man before Even managed to stop him. “What did he say to me?”
“You could always prove me wrong, I suppose.” The boffin turned to send him an appraising look, cocking a head full of unruly hair. “Old dog and new tricks and all that.”
“Did he just call me an old dog?” Bond demanded, and Eve tried not to laugh as she dragged him out of the room.
Q smiled the littlest bit before going back online to the mission in Nicaragua. “Alright, 002, let’s get you out of there, shall we?”
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“Bond, what the hell are you doing?”
“What does it look like I'm doing?” Bond answered irritably, stripping off his tie to wrap it around his arm, trying to stem the flow of blood from a gunshot that had grazed him. “I could stop of course, if you prefer me bleeding out on the basement floor of this hotel.”
“ I'd prefer if you listened to my directions and then didn't end up shot!” Q sounded exasperated, half past furious really, and Bond briefly considered tossing the earpiece away. The old Q had never felt the need to listen in on his missions, but apparently this one did.
“Q, I've had you in my ear for thirty six hours now and you are starting to get on my nerves.” Bond pulled the tie tight, and jumped back up to his feet, shoving his gun in his back holster. “Tell me how to get out of this place.”
“Well since you decided to take a detour instead of following my directions the first time--”
“Tell me how to get the hell out of here first, and then I can listen to you preach later!” Bond interrupted. “Be useful for more than scolding me for using too many bullets and complaining that I don't listen to you! Is your job to help me or to berate me?”
“There’s an elevator. Three floors up and then a hundred yards to your right, around the corner, top floor, I have an extraction chopper en route. Try not to kill anyone on your way, please.”
“No promises.” Bond grunted and took off running up the stairs, cursing under his breath every time he turned a corner and there were more stairs. He was getting too old for this shit.
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It wasn't until Bond had been extracted and deposited in a safe house that Q spoke again.
“At least tell me you managed to get the computer chip? Otherwise you killed all those men for nothing.”
“Christ!” Bond jumped and cursed, his hand flying to his gun automatically, cursing all over again when he heard the amusement in Q’s voice.
“At ease, 007.”
“I got the computer chip.” he groused, put off by being caught unawares. “Why don't you get the hell out of my ear? The mission is over and I'm halfway to drunk and certainly not going anywhere tonight.”
“It's my job to be present with you at all times until you are back on our soil, 007. I may not be speaking, but I am listening, and if you need anything you only need to say it.”
“And if I take this annoying thing out of my ear? How on earth will you keep tabs on me then?” Bond goaded, pouring himself another drink and heading towards the bedroom.
“I will tap into the hotel systems and observe you this way. It's for your own protection 007. Welcome to the new millennium, someone is always watching, and for you, that someone is me.”
“Seems to me as if I'm being babysat.”
“Yes, well, if you didn't spread wanton destruction about you as a toddler does, you wouldn't need a nanny, would you?”
Bond ripped the earpiece out and threw it across the room.
Brat.
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“Q.” Bond dropped his watch, his gun and his phone on Q’s desk. “My equipment returned as ordered.”
“I ordered it returned in one piece.” Q had an entirely irritating habit of never taking his eyes off the half a dozen screens in front of him, one hand constantly typing, the other usually taking notes or lifting his cup to take a sip. “And where is the rest of it.”
“Oh, didn't your predecessor tell you? I am notorious for not returning things, you’re lucky I brought anything back at all.” Bond was grinning, or rather, smirking in that infuriating way, eyes narrowed as he watched Q for any reaction to his words.
“You know as well as everyone else that I never met the former Q, but I was warned as to your penchant for ruining your tech. Tell me, did you drive over your phone on purpose, or is that just normal wear and tear on a mission?” The Quartermaster still hadn't looked at him, and Bond couldn't believe how angry that made him.
“If you had ever set foot in the field, you would know the answer to that question.”
“I know the answer to that question and every other one you will probably ask me.” Q said calmly. “I was just curious as to what your answer would be. If you would lie to get into my good graces, or be your usual blunt self just to irritate me.”
“I'll have you know--”
“Not that way, please, thank you. When I said right I mean it.” Q interrupted and when Bond looked at him blankly, Q tapped his earpiece, then pointed to the screen. “You didn't think I was staring at the screens just to avoid looking at you, did you 007? I have a whole other mission going on, which is why I must ask you to leave the remnants of your tech and leave me be.”
“I did think you were avoiding looking at me.” Bond stated and Q seemed to twitch a little, which was… interesting . “It must be difficult for you to look agents in the eye, young thing like you. 00’s are some of the most dangerous people in the world, and you are--”
“The power behind them.” Q finished. “You are a blunt instrument Bond, and I am the high tech that makes you useful. Now if you’re quite done--”
“You still haven't looked at me.” Bond cut in, not even sure why he was insisting on it, but something about the way Q was suddenly on guard, the way he was pushing him away made Bond want to press the issue. “The least you could do is make eye contact, or is that difficult for you, considering you spend all your time behind computers and not in the real world?”
“The real world.” Q nodded, then sighed and put his keyboard down, finally turning to face Bond. “Forgive me, Bond. I tend to forget that the blinking dots on my screen and the voice in my ear belong to real people.”
“Oh.” Bond was taken aback by the apology. “Well then.”
“Yes. Well then.” Q faced him fully, looking young as hell in fitted slacks and a button up shirt under an ugly cardigan, his hair rumpled and green eyes hidden behind a pair of glasses. “Welcome home, Bond. Kudos for a safe return and all that.”
“Hm.” Bond replied, and spent an inordinate amount of time looking the Quartermaster over. “You really do have spots, don't you?”
“Rather spots than grey hair.” Q responded primly, and turned back to his computers. “Till next time, 007. Ta.”
Bond had left Q branch and made it halfway to the garage to fetch his car before he could even begin to think of an appropriate response, and by then of course, it was too late.
“Impertinent little shit.” he muttered as he slammed the car to his door.
But he smiled, just a twich of his lips really, because despite the new Quartermasters age and frankly infuriating attitude-- Bond liked him.
It had been a while since he had been challenged, with most agents and support at Six going out of their way to avoid him, or make sure he had what he needed so there was no reason for him to speak to them at all.
Bond new that since Vesper he had become nearly impossible to work with. He knew M was worried that he would never fully recover, he knew they wondered if he killed because he liked it, because he didn't feel any remorse for it anymore.
Maybe he did.
Vesper had taken such a big piece of his heart, sometimes Bond didn't think it beat anymore. And no one knew that he didn't sleep with women or men anymore on his missions. Seduce them yes, but it was easy enough to seduce someone without actually completing the act, or to satisfy them, and then beg off before they tried to reciprocate. Most of them ended up dead anyway, so there was no reason to worry, he supposed.
In fact, it had been so long since Bond had felt anything resembling desire that it had been a shock to think that he was attracted to the new Q. And he wasn't, not really, it was just the challenge the man presented that had Bond intrigued.
He could match wits with the Quartermaster, but his heart was long past anything like that.
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Q watched from his desk as 007 tore out of the garage and headed towards the street. The cameras in the area ran constantly, but it was set to alert him anytime anyone set foot in the garage.
Safety, of course.
He had been warned that Bond wasn't alright, that he had developed an overly eager trigger finger and killed almost indiscriminately since returning after the debacle with Vesper. Q knew Bond had killed almost everyone he came across on the last mission, and still had been able to have a drink and sleep the entire night.
It was fascinating, and horrifying how he disconnected like that and Q knew better than to think about it.
But he watched anyway as Bond left, and smiled thinking about the look of shock on the agent’s face when he had made the comment about grey hair versus spots.
This was going to be an interesting partnership, between them.
Interesting, indeed.