Disclaimer: I own nothing.

RHETORICAL QUESTIONS

M often ate breakfast at his desk. There were many early morning meetings and he liked to have as much time to prepare as possible. So there was a teapot, a dark glossy blue, and a small collection of almost matching teacups, stationed in his office. They were useful during meetings too, few of the people he met with refused tea.

And there was nothing like the first cup of the day. At his desk, breakfast consisted of sandwiches filled with whatever, in his experience, would work as effective breakfast food and show willing to fuel him.

Occasionally, M wasn't due into MI6 until midmorning. He always had Moneypenny emailing him anything important; her filter was very well attuned.

Following Bahrain last week, Q Branch will be trialling further explosives today. All departments have been informed. Details attached.

Tanner is overseeing the scans of level five.

007 has attempted to switch meetings with 008.

005 has submitted a second complaint about Dr Marshall.

M read through it all. The Double-Os somehow believed they could manoeuvre around whatever orders he'd given them. He always gave them space to improvise, it was why there were people in such roles rather than drones, but there were limits and very few Double-Os acknowledged them. They didn't bother to inform him of every change of plans but that did give him perfect plausible deniability.

M always preferred eating out, he appreciated cinnamon toast and scrambled he eventually made his way into MI6, more often than not Moneypenny was already on her feet, ready with the morning dispatches. She was coherent and detailed and made sure that the kettle was on by the time he arrived. There was always enough water to fill two cups.

M had discovered, thanks to a stray remark from Tanner, that Moneypenny's birthday had been and gone. That didn't sit well. He could have ordered flowers or tasteful appropriate jewellery, as he had done for previous employees. Instead, in light of the lifestyle of their work, he told her that when she next sought dinner out very much away from her job, he promised to foot the bill and make sure that the meal stayed work-free. The idea was something that M knew, from the weekend plans Moneypenny occasionally talked about, would be appreciated.

Invariably M would be busy all the way through lunch. Sometimes that meant lunch meetings, which were ideal for guiding people towards a solution. M was quite used to discreet tables at certain restaurants or out of the way establishments and the occasional pub. Any number of negotiations could begin over lunch.

M usually ate soup, followed by some variance on meat and potatoes with plenty of pepper. He liked his steak well-done.

Moneypenny frequently attended meetings with him. When lunch was involved, she ordered soup too and a stuffed toasted panini or wrap, something she could take with her if need be. She ate while taking notes, keeping track of M's day on her phone, smoothly intervening when he was late for his next appointment.

Once she helped foil an assassination attempt on a Russian representative. It occurred during pudding. Moneypenny wasn't armed, not officially. She didn't need to be on this occasion. It happened that she was more than a match for the highly-trained service man who was attempting to surreptiously use a syringe. Of course she was.

M ensured that a commendation was placed in her file.

Moneypenny often peeled hard-boiled eggs at her desk during the afternoon. She swept away the shells and dipped the eggs in salt before eating them. She drank her coffee with milk but no sugar and seemed to keep an unending supply of biscuits in her desk. Q invariably ferreted them out, 007 was not rewarded for attempting to do the same.

Moneypenny always offered M a biscuit to go with his afternoon tea.

"007," M was entirely used to using this particular tone now, though it never seemed to leave a dent. "Do not imply that I'm a maiden aunt where my employees are concerned."

Tanner was keeping a remarkably straight face, which likely meant he was trying not to laugh. Moneypenny was no doubt listening in; it was standard practice during these sorts of meetings, the sort that were followed by particularly strong tea.

007 merely looked amused, "Sir, the image alone-."

"That was rhetorical, 007, and as you've recently increased your nominally-covert efforts to seduce your way out of psychiatric and medical screenings, I would suggest you err on the side of silence."

Moneypenny had been the one to dig out evidence of 007's unbearably broad plots to avoid medical and psychiatry hence the current meeting. Afterwards, 007 lingered to flirt with Moneypenny, especially heavy-handed today, no doubt as a result of his conversation with M.

"...a souvenir but I wouldn't want to interrupt, again-."

"We do keep track of company finances, 007," M pointed out from within his sanctum, able to hear 007 perfectly clearly, despite the occasional age-related jibe. "And you always strive to interrupt. May I remind you, again, that my employees' personal lives are their own unless my quartermaster tells me otherwise."

"Paid to be company voyeur," that was 007 again.

"Q's in your ear during every mission," Moneypenny responded, her own tone richly amused. "Did you think he didn't look too?"

M didn't bother to raise his head to catch 007's reaction but he did see Tanner's quick smile.

Dinner was as variable as breakfast. There were often days when M stayed at his office into the early hours of the morning. There were occasions when dinner was the last thing on his mind or inevitably skipped for the sake of something much more vital. Queen and country and someone with prescient demands.

More than once, Moneypenny appeared with a plate of something from the mess and M found himself grateful, for several reasons. He made sure to tell Moneypenny. Her smile was nothing like the expressions she chose when faced with demanding Double-0s or a particularly frustrated quartermaster.

"This isn't part of your job," M commented when Moneypenny delivered lasagne and salad one evening.

She smiled slightly, clearly amused, as she set the plate down on his desk, "007 is on his way, sir. I could ask him in future."

"His idea of a balanced meal would probably involve an olive with a martini."

Moneypenny's smile grew a little and she inclined her head, "Anything else, sir?"

M shook his head, "Make sure you get dinner too."

"Of course, sir."

Of course. It really wasn't her job to bring him meals, during work hours or otherwise, but Moneypenny seemed to enjoy redefining exactly what her role was. There was talk, apparently, that her decision to step out of the field actually consisted of a demotion or even punishment from M's predecessor. Tanner kept M apprised of it. Complete idiocy. Why would MI6 let such a talented individual languish?

Supper was often a necessity. It usually consisted of restaurants and cafes and M with his newspaper, it was essential breathing room. If there wasn't ventilation, there would only be rot. One particular day, when there'd been only bad news in dispatches and a couple of very nasty Whitehall encounters, Moneypenny appeared at M's restaurant table. She was still wearing the deep plum dress and jacket that she'd worn all day at work and a pair of earrings that complimented the colour and caught the light.

M reached for his wallet, readying for swift departure, "Another dispatch?"

But Moneypenny sat down and eased out of her jacket, her expression choice stilling M, "That promise, sir."

-the end