Q tiredly rubbed his eyes as he shuffled the few stairs up to his little apartment. The last mission had been like a trip to hell. Like practically any mission that involved Bond in any way. The man just seemed to attract catastrophes like a magnet iron filings. The sort of catastrophes that ended with lots of triggers pulled and huge explosions and Q having to get the agent out of the mess.
His head complained about his recent lack of sleeping with violent head aches and he felt like his cardigan suddenly became 100 pounds heavier and was now steadily attempting to drag him to the ground.
Nonetheless, he made it to the door, fumbled with the keys and finally managed to unlock the door.
His fingers fumbled around for the light switch on the wall as he closed the door behind him and with one click the tiny corridor was flooded with light.
„Hello Q."
Q jumped at the sound of the deep voice and backed up against the door, adrenaline coursing like an electric current through his veins.
The by now familiar frame of 007, agent of his Majesty, broke away from the wall he had been leaning on.
„Y-y-you", Q stammered, looking at Bond like a deer caught in the headlights, the shock waking him better than ten cups coffee.
„I mean: what the hell?"
The corner of Bond's mouth quirked in an amused grin.
„Okay, let's just... don't do that again, okay? I mean, you can just knock if you want or something, just, no creepy ambushing in my hallway alright?"
„I see what I can do", Bond replied and Q let out a tired groan.
„Just like you try to bring back the gadgets I give you?"
Not waiting for an answer he shuffled past Bond towards the kitchen. Rummaging in the cupboard he found the already opened cookie can. Popping the lid open he took one of the cookies out and put it into his mouth, regardless of the weird looks Bond gave him.
Geniuses needed comfort food after heavy shock.
Bond silently watched as Q ate his cookie.
„So, what can I do for you?", Q asked after the cookie had fully disappeared from the world of living, looking at Bond curiously.
„How much experience do you have in the medical field?", Bond asked.
„Medical field?", Q asked slightly baffled. „Well, I got the standard training from MI6, so better than your average civilian I guess, but I'm not a doctor."
Bond shrugged. „Will do."
Then he started to unbutton his jacket.
Q paled significantly. He had heard of Bond's reputation (after all, who hadn't), but this was... unexpected.
Before he could say something, Bond had shrugged the jacket off, revealing the white shirt he wore underneath.
Which wasn't so white anymore.
On Bond's upper arm a large stain had seeped into the cloth, its colour already starting to turn from fresh red to brown. In the middle of the stain the shirt was ripped, revealing a still red glistening wound. Q looked at the jacket Bond had flung over one of his kitchen chairs too, only now noticing the darker spots and the rent at one of its arms.
Looking up he saw Bond eyeing him expectantly. He sighed. „I get the first aid kit, you stay here and be careful to not bleed on the table, alright?"
A few moments later he was carefully wrapping white gauze around 007's upper arm and wondered when his life had became that weird (given that his life had never been normal, but this was just starting to go overboard).
„So, someone has an animosity towards medical?", he asked to break the awkward silence.
Bond stayed quiet for a few moment and the silence became even more awkward.
„The doctor's there fuss too much", he replied finally.
Q rolled his eyes. „Oh, the great weakness of the almighty agent of his Majesty: fussing."
Bond let out a small huff that might pass as a chuckle.
Q sighed and taped the gauze tight. „There. I won't kiss it better for you. And the next time feel free to go to medical instead of lurking in the dark in my apartment. Just saying."
„Will do", Bond replied shortly and stood up. He swayed dangerously for a moment and gripped the edge of the table to steady himself. Then he slowly shuffled in the direction of the front door.
„Hey, wait a minute." Without much thinking Q made a grab for Bond's arm – the (hopefully) uninjured one. „Where exactly do you plan on going in this state, hm?"
„To my flat", Bond said as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Which it probably was, except for when one is in serious danger of collapsing after walking more than five meters.
„Of course. You're going nowhere like this. My bed is big enough even for someone like you and I have a spare set of blankets, so there we go."
„Q, don't be ridiculous."
„Don't be ridiculous yourself", Q answered stoically. He forcefully dragged Bond in the direction of his bed room. It was probably the most telling sign that he was indeed exhausted that Bond let him.
Q flipped the light switch and practically shoved Bond towards the bed.
„Blankets, pillows, everything here. So. There. Sleep. Now", he ordered.
„When people normally drag me to their bedroom it's for completely different reasons you know?", Bond said, but already starts to loosen his tie.
„Who would have guessed?", Q answered dryly. „Good night then."
He closes the door and makes his way to the couch, grabbing a spare blanket on the way.
He would probably have terrible neck cramps the next morning, but for now the warm blanket and the soft cushion feel like heaven and he's asleep within three seconds.
A/N: English isn't my mother tongue. Reviews warm my heart! =]