The Quartermaster's Ire

"Q, please don't attack Bond just because he's being a sod," Moneypenny pleaded, holding the enraged Quartermaster by the arms. 007 spread his own arms wide.
"By all means, please attack me."
"I would like nothing more," snarled Q, still attempting to pull away.
"Neither would I," Bond agreed, his smile all teeth.

Q stopped trying to lunge for the agent's jugular. He sniffed.

"However, I suppose someone has to be the professional around here and it clearly isn't going to be you."

Bond's smile widened. Assured that Q had calmed down, Moneypenny released his arms.

"Aargh!"

With a yell, Q launched himself at Bond and toppled his over onto the floor. He fought back surprisingly well, given his size the fact that his opponent was James-007-Bond, but the outcome was inevitable. Within minutes, the tussling on the floor had come to a stop.

Q was flat on his back, with Bond sitting on his stomach, his feet pressed against Q's knees to stop his legs moving around and his hands clasped tightly around thin wrists.

Eve Moneypenny groaned at the sight of them and prayed M wouldn't show up out of the blue like it seemed he had a penchant for doing. She turned around just to check he wasn't already walking down the row of desks towards them and promptly met the astonished stare of everyone who worked in Q-Branch. Her own eye widened and she stared back. In the total silence, the outraged argument from the floor seemed louder than ever.

"Give it back."
"I can't."
"Yes you can, give it back."
"It's at the bottom of the ocean!"
"I know."
"Then how am I supposed to get it back?"
"I will strap you to an anchor and an oxygen tank myself if I have to. Give it back."
"You're being ridiculous!"

The entire room winced in unison. You did not call this Quartermaster ridiculous. It was high up on 'the list', above not insulting his glasses and below calling him a hipster. The top of that list was ensuring that, at all times, someone – it didn't matter who – had Earl Gray teabags, milk, and a clean mug on hand. That rule was never, ever broken.

"Me!? I'm being ridiculous!?"
"Yes! It was one piece of equipment! I brought back all the others from that mission, and besides, it's hardly the first tech I've lost!"

Someone moaned quietly in the back of the room. If you wanted to pacify Q, you did not remind him of your past transgressions. You brought him tea and chocolate, and apologised. And grovelled – there would usually be grovelling involved.

"Don't even get me started on your usual treatment of my equipment, Bond! We spent months on that prototype! Months! The only reason I gave it to you was because we literally had nothing else to give you, and only then because M made me! And you're the reason we have nothing left in the first place! Do you remember what I said when I gave it to you? I said 'You can lose all the other tech as long as you bring this back. I don't even care if you die, as long as this is returned with your corpse.'"

The whole of Q-Branch mouthed the words with him.

"You did literally the exact opposite of what I said!"

Bond had been growing increasingly amused and sheepish as Q ranted. Moneypenny wanted to take a picture of his face for posterity's sake, but was too cautious of turning Q's ire on her to do so. Bond opened his mouth to say something, but Q, apparently having decided he'd had enough, glared fiercely at the agent, set his mouth in a firm, determined line, and headbutted Bond. Hard.

"Jesus Christ!"

He let go of Q's wrists to hold his nose and Q, seizing his chance to escape, rolled out from under him and scrabbled to his feet. He stared impassively down at Bond, who was still on the floor and blinking back automatic tears as he tried to stem the bleeding.

"You're a lunatic!"

Q merely sniffed again and returned to his desk. He blinked slightly at the steaming tea, looked at his favoured scrabble mug suspiciously and then glanced around the room, fortunately not noticing one of the interns quickly settling back into her chair. He took his seat and began tapping at the keyboard.

"Miss Moneypenny," he said, and she straightened without stopping to think about it. No one laughed. Bond was still groaning on the floor.

"I'm arranging a week's leave for you and agent 007. You will go back to Australia, go out in a boat, and he will dive down to retrieve my equipment. He will get nothing from me until it is back on my desk in one piece. You will get a video camera with which you will film this historical event."

Moneypenny nodded, reached out and gently took the camera he was offering her, and hightailed it out of Q-Branch without looking back. Bond may have moaned something that sounded like, "Traitor".

The interns watched with baited breath as to what Q would do with Bond, who had now apparently given up on everything, including life, and was lying on the floor, spread-eagled.

"Don't stay like that for too long, 007, you'll choke on your own blood soon," Q said crisply. Bond coughed wetly and turned on his side. Q's mouth curved slightly, then he stood, closed the lid on his laptop and helped Bond stand, pulling the Double-Oh's arm around his neck.

"Honestly," Q huffed. "I didn't hit you that hard."
"You have a very hard head," murmured Bond.
"Yes, well, I supposed you would too, seeing how often you get knocked around."
"I think you broke my nose."

Q sighed.

"Don't be such a girl," he smiled.

Bond moaned again.

"I'm taking you to Medical, aren't I?"
"I hate you."
"I'm sure you do. If you like, I can tell everyone you got into a fight with a crocodile and are only showing the effects of it now."
"So much hate."

They made it to the door of the department, all eyes following them, and then Q turned around to survey the room with raised eyebrows.

The sound of typing was deafening.

A/N:

I have been reading 00Q fics almost obsessively over the past few days. It's a bit ridiculous.

I was meant to be doing my holidays maths work (because I only have two more weeks and it's huge...) when this happened. It took me something like eighteen sticky notes to write down. So you guys owe me a note pad. I don't know who, or how I'm going to manage to get compensation for it, but I will. Eventually. Probably not. Anyway, this is one of the probable hundreds of fics out there that involve Bond being a huge jerk by not returning equipment, but I thought I'd just add mine to the pile. Whatever. :) Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Cheers,
Foxboxtango97! :)

P.S I own nothing of import. Like, seriously. Hahaha, lol. -.- Also, all mistakes are all my own as I have no one to proof read my works except for myself. :)