Thought I would try my hand at 00Q. Thanks for reading!
Q hadn't been Quartermaster very long. He'd been working with Bond for even less time. He'd always heard Bond was trouble.
The rumors had all been true, apparently.
Bond was argumentative and at times, offensive. The real, core problem with Bond was that he could charm his way out of a paper bag. He'd certainly charmed his way out of death a few times. Every woman that crossed his path at Q branch fell all over him. Some of the men, too.
Q had never been interested in anyone he'd worked with. That was simply...absurd. Field agents were supposed to be gorgeous, well trained, dangerous. It was all in their job description. But something about Bond got under his skin. Dammit...something about Bond aroused him.
Maybe it was those eyes. Those brilliant blue eyes that always seemed amused about something. Maybe it was his excellent gun skills. Maybe it was that bloody irresistible charm.
Having to watch Bond train was torture. He had to sit and wait for Bond to finish his run to show him some gadget. Bond walked up to him, all muscles and perfect abs, shirt off, sweatpants swung WAY loose around his hips.
Q tried to hurry through the demonstration of the new (not exploding pen) gadget. Bond was impatient and grabbed it out of his hand.
"007," Q sighed in exasperation. "I was trying to show you how to use that."
"I can figure it out. Don't you trust me?"
"Hardly." Q snorted. "I trust you won't blow your hand off trying to get it to work?"
"How good was I?"
"Sorry?" Q asked, taken aback.
"My time. Running. How was I?"
"Oh, uh, splendid!" Q stammered. Bloody hell, I was so distracted watching him run that I forgot to check the fucking time. "You seem to be in top form, 007."
The smile that spread across Bond's face stunned Q so much his knees went weak.
Then the smile was gone and the trademark smirk lingered. "Good," Bond nodded, taking his gadget and striding off, all swagger and confidence.
Q bit his lip as he watched him walk away. I need to get home.
Q's apartment was very nice- M16 paid very well. As he walked into his living room, he wondered, not for the first time, what Bond's apartment looked like.
Usually, he would come in and make a cup of tea. But for the past two weeks, he seemed to have an altogether different sort of ritual. A ritual he hated himself for.
He skipped the tea and went to his bedroom. He closed the door and locked it- why, he didn't know. He lived alone. It was like he still lived in fear his mum might walk in, even though she lived two hours away.
His bedroom was perfect. Dark grays and reds. It would be the perfect place to bring a date- if he ever had one. He had a good job. It wouldn't be hard to find a nice guy.
But as he laid down on the bed and closed his eyes, he knew why he couldn't find a nice guy. His mind was too wrapped up with thoughts of a very not so nice guy.
Coming home and jerking himself off to thoughts of Bond was not something Q ever thought he would be doing. But as he unbuttoned his pants and slipped his hand inside, Q didn't care if it was morally wrong to fantasize about his coworker.
In his fantasies, Bond always found his way to Q's apartment. A gadget was broke after hours. Any nonsense reason would do. Then somehow Bond would end up with his shirt off, because honestly, that was when Bond looked best.
They would kiss. He always imagined Bond kissing hungry, thrusting his tongue in his mouth and biting Q's lip. They would fall on the floor and he would drag down Bond's pants and take his cock in his mouth. He imagined Bond grabbing his hair and fucking his mouth. He imagined Bond bending him over a desk and fucking him until he was sore.
But when he remembered that smile Bond flashed him, that's when he came.
He laid there afterward, breathing heavy, his hand sticky and trembling. "Why did you have to fall for a straight one, Q?" he whispered to himself. "You couldn't have made a worst decision if you had tried."