Just a bit of fluff I wrote one day. I don't own James Bond or any of the characters. So don't sue me. I'm a poor starving college student anyway who doesn't have any money.
That being said, I didn't have anyone in particular in mind for Bond's wife. Imagine your favorite Bond girl or yourself if you want.
It was usual for James Bond to receive stares as he walked down the hallways of MI6. Secretaries would peer out from behind their desks to catch a glimpse of the spy as he walked to his office, his broad shoulders filling out his expensive tailored suit without a wrinkle, his blue eyes winking suggestively as he strolled leisurely down the hallway, confident that he was in his domain.
Today was no exception. Today he received the usual admiring looks, but they were quickly replaced by looks of astonishment as the usually suave spy raced down the hallway, obviously late, juggling a diaper bag in one arm and his sixteen month old in the other.
"James, there you are, you were supposed to meet with M fifteen minutes-" Goodnight stopped short in the doorway to James's office, where he'd plopped his giggling daughter onto his desk and begun riffling through the diaper bag. "James, what on earth…" The other agent trailed off as 007 pulled a blanket, a teething ring, and bottle out of the bag decorated with green dinosaurs.
"I can't find her pacifier," he said, looking up and running his fingers through his immaculately groomed hair.
"You'll be looking for a lot more than that if you don't get yourself up to M's office," the blonde woman said, shaking her head as the harried agent scooped up his daughter and looked up at her with a pleading expression. Goodnight shook her head, though he looked absolutely adorable. "No way, James, you're not slumping your offspring off on me." With a martyred sigh James adjusted the toddler on his hip and bolted out the door.
Jane Moneypenny was tapping her pen idly on the desk, frowning at the clock. James was twenty minutes late. She checked her makeup in the window again, and wondered if something had happened.
She looked up at the sound of footsteps, preparing a charming smile, but the witty remark died on her tongue when she saw James round the corner with Juliet in his arms. He was probably all too aware of how dashing he looked with the child in his arms, and as such he wasted no time in plopping the little girl down on her desk with a "Be good for Aunty Jane" as the flabbergasted secretary looked on before sprinting into M's office.
"You're late, 007," M said, looking up from the file she was reading. She noted with interest that Bond appeared flustered, judging from the way he hastily straightened his tie as he sat with down without his usual flippancy. Today his tie had actually needed to be straightened.
"My apologies, Sir," he said smoothly, regaining his usual composure. M filed her observation away for later. A morning romp with his wife, no doubt, she mused silently.
"As you know, the situation in the Middle East is particularly volatile-" The head of MI6 was abruptly cut off as the sound of Moneypenny's agitated voice came crackling over the intercom.
"No, Juliet, don't! Don't put that in your mouth!" M cast a surprised glance at her agent, who was trying his best not to look guilty.
"Double oh seven, am I to understand that you brought your daughter to the office with you today?" she asked incredulously. Bond nodded sheepishly.
"Her mother has recertification today and the nanny has the flu," he said by way of apology, doing his best to meet his superior in the eye. The sounds of falling objects came through over the loudspeaker as the two sat and stared at one another.
"You never cease to surprise me," M said when she'd recovered herself enough to speak. Leaning over and pressing the intercom, "Miss Moneypenny, please escort the young Ms. Bond into my office." Inwardly James groaned. The slim redhead opened the door, carrying a smiling Juliet in her arms. The child's eyes lit up when it spotted James, and the little girl immediately held out her arms with squeals of "Da-da!" James stood quickly and relieved the secretary of her charge, cringing when he noticed the large ink stain on her blouse.
"Moneypenny, I'm terribly sorry," he said to the woman glowering up at him. "Have your dry cleaning bill sent to me."
"I should think so," the redhead huffed, turning and walking out the door.
"When you've found an adequate sitter please report back to my office, Bond," M said wryly. "We're not finished here."
"Of course sir," the agent said, ducking quickly out of the room. The child clutched her father's jacket, waving at M over his shoulder. The older woman was startled to see a pair of deep blue eyes, eyes that had so often looked back at her from the other side of her desk regarding her quizzically from the small face. She sighed. She was James's, through and through.
James walked back to his office, carrying his jubilant offspring, babbling excitedly in his ear. He could half make out what she was saying, but she still dissolved into baby speech whenever she was excited.
"Morning, James," Alec Trevalyan said as he passed his friend in the hall. The two men stopped and turned toward each other. "What's Juliet doing here?" the blonde man asked in surprise. "Did something happen to Cass?"
"No," James said tiredly, shifting his progeny onto his hip. "She's going for recertification today and the nanny has the flu."
"That's unfortunate," Alec said, preparing to turn away. Unfortunately for him he wasn't fast enough, and before he could protest James had thrust the child into his arms.
"Hold on to her for me, Alec," his friend pleaded. "I'm late for a briefing."
"But I'm due in Q branch!" the usually composed agent sputtered, holding the little girl out in front of him. "I don't even know how to hold it!"
"Hold her like an American football," James said as he made his escape down the hallway. "Besides, Q loves children." Alec held the child up to eye level. She looked quizzically back at him, cocking her pretty head to one side.
"Well there's no doubt your James's," he mused out loud, looking into the big blue eyes that regarded him curiously. The little girl giggled and squirmed in his grasp. "Woah, there," Alec said, resting her awkwardly on his hip. She looked up at him and said something incomprehensible. Alec sighed. "Well, come on then," he said trotting down the hall with the giggling girl.
"Ah, there you are 006," the ancient weapons expert said as Alec walked through the doorway. He glanced at the child in the agent's arms. "So you've finally had one, I see?" He walked towards a table, shaking his head. "Can't say I'm surprised, though I always thought it'd be Bond who'd walk in with one."
"Q," Alec said, exasperated, "she's Bond's. Look at her eyes." The old man turned and squinted at the child, who smiled and clapped her hands.
"Dear Lord!" he said, clutching his chest. "Get her out of here! She'll bring the whole place down around us!" Alec frowned, holding the child protectively to him.
"Q, she's not even two years old," he said as the other man waved an umbrella at him. "What damage could she possibly do?"
"What damage?" the older man sputtered. "She's a direct blood descendent of 007. There's no telling what damage that child could inflict on my workshop! Shoo!" Juliet giggled, putting her tiny hands to her face. Q put down his umbrella.
"She is a cute little thing," he admitted, putting his finger under her chin and crooning, "coochy coochy coo!" The toddler giggled as Alec watched in amusement. The older man looked up and snatched his hand away.
"Right," he said, clearing his throat in a manly fashion. "Off we go. If you'll follow me, 006, I've some new gadgets for you to test out." Alec obliged, putting the little girl down on an empty table while he focused on Q's explanation of how to assemble a pistol from an electric toothbrush and a hairdryer. Alec had successfully assembled the pistol himself when a shout from behind them grabbed both men's attention.
Someone had placed the umbrella on the table, and the toddler had begun playing with it, unknowingly pressing a button that released tranquilizer darts. The agent pushed his aging superior to the ground as a series of green barbs cut through the air above them, sticking in an unfortunate technician who happened to be passing by.
"Get her out!" Q yelled as the technician slumped to the floor, unconscious. The old man tried to hobble towards the toddler but Alec beat him to her, grabbing the child and lifting her onto his shoulders, out of Q's reach, where she promptly hit her head on an outdated bazooka hanging from the ceiling and began crying.
"Damn," Alec muttered. "James is going to kill me."
"Not if I kill him first!" Q swore, swatting at the child that was whimpering on Alec's shoulders.
"You've yet to make good on that promise, Q," said the cause of all the trouble. James zeroed in on his crying child, bounding over to Alec's side.
"What did you do?" he demanded as his friend tried to extricate Juliet from his shoulders. Juliet, on seeing her father approach, threw her hands in the air with a squeal of joy, hitting the launch button on the bazooka. James snatched his daughter as the three men hit the deck. The shell, thankfully empty, merely sailed through the windshield of a blue BMW, startling the technician in the driver's seat, who inadvertently pressed the button for the headlight torpedoes. The offending items hit the wall on the other side of the room, exploding and knocking a over workbench and several staffers. James and Alec cautiously got to their feet, wincing at the damage. Juliet, excited by all the commotion, had the bad grace to clap.
"Control your progeny, double oh seven!" Q sputtered. As he turned to survey the remains of his workshop, Alec elbowed James in the ribs, who took the opportunity to make his escape. Alec couldn't help but chuckle as Juliet waved over her father's shoulder.