Kissing the Quartermaster

Sleep deprivation negatively affects everyone, even the quartermaster of MI6. His symptoms may be unique, but Q-Branch spreads the notice as quickly as possible. Naturally, James Bond misses the memo. QBond. 00Q.

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So I was watching episodes 1-4 of London Spy today (oh be still my heart), and obviously that led to fanfiction...for a different fandom and with a plot that has nothing to do with either fandom really. Okay, Ben Whishaw was kissing people, alright? Gimme a break.

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MI6 never slept. There was always someone working on one project or another. The Double O program suffered from even more insomnia, with agents gallivanting across the globe at all hours of the day and night.

Q branch had gained a formidable asset in their new department head. Running on nothing but various brews of tea and biscuits, the new Q could keep working for two days straight with barely a blip in productivity. Q claimed he could keep working for more than two days, that he could handle three or four even, but the rest of the branch wouldn't let him stay longer than two without a respite.

The reason why Q branch wouldn't let their department head test the limits of his abilities was rooted in a day a several few months after the Silva incident. While some members of MI6 worked overtime during a crisis situation, they'd go home in their few hours off, or at least nap somewhere in the building for a bit between shifts. Q, on the other hand, had worked continuously for sixty-eight hours, hardly even pausing to take a piss.

He'd been leaning over his work station, neck bent as he stretched out the kinks that were forming, when one of the minions had approached him with a new cup of tea in his second favorite mug, intent on replacing the empty mug sitting on Q's desk.

"Tea for you, sir," she said as she approached and set the mug on the worktop.

Q rolled his neck and face in her direction. "Thank you, love," he slurred out, half asleep, leaning forward to grab the mug. In the same movement, he also planted a kiss to the young woman's cheek.

"Sir?" she squeaked, hand flying to her cheek once he'd pulled away.

The slender man took a long drink of his tea before focusing on the woman again, his eyes much more alert than they'd just been. "Oh. Cynthia. Did you need something?"

Cynthia shook her head, face bright red, and scurried away. The rest of Q branch heard about the incident from every gossip loving pair of eyes that had been in the room within an hour. The rumor mill began to move. Did Q like Cynthia? When had this happened? They worked the same shift a lot, didn't they? Now that you mention it…

Then Richard, another minion, approached Q with a handful of files. He wore a knowing smirk as he approached his boss, ready to weasel information about an illicit affair from the younger man if it killed him.

At that moment, Q was actually leaving his station. He had nothing in his hands and Richard wondered if he was finally leaving the office.

"Heading out, sir?" he asked.

Q shook his head. "Just a quick trip to the loo and I'll be right back, I assure you. There's still so much to do. Too much to do," he muttered.

Nodding, Richard held out the files as he walked along the open space of Q branch toward the doors with his boss. "Here are the hard copies of those files you asked for," he said.

"Brilliant." Q accepted the files and gave Richard a peck high on his cheek, almost at the crease of his eye, in return. "I'll read them like a paper, then, I suppose."

Though Richard had stuttered to a dead stop, Q didn't miss a beat. He continued out the automatic doors and around the corner.

"What," Richard let out on a breath.

The quiet titters of the other branch employees reached his ears and Richard's cheeks flamed as bright as Cynthia's ever could. Again the minions chattered. Again the rumors built.

The head of Q branch was cheating on Cynthia! Or were they in a polyamorous relationship? They didn't know Richard even played for that team. Well you never really know a person, do you?

It wasn't until the incident with Mallory that people started to put it together.

It was hard to get information from Moneypenny, but a few people knew all the right buttons to push and soon the story came out. Q had been called for a meeting with the new M. One of Q branch's prototype weapons had found its way into the hands of a certain Double O agent and been destroyed mid-mission. They needed all of the remains collected and a new prototype built by the end of the week.

"Of course, sir," Q had said before taking up M's uninjured hand and planting a kiss on it like some knight to his lady.

According to Moneypenny, Q had kissed her on the cheek as well and then left before M had fully registered what happened. "Only reason that man is still standing," she mused with a coy smile.

Strangely, it sounded like she was talking about M rather than Q.

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By hour eighty-eight, Q had reportedly or allegedly kissed eight members of Q branch, two other heads of staff, and one cleaning lady. All without seeming to think there was anything odd about the action or making one mistake in his programming.

There was now an invisible bubble surrounding Q's workstation. The implied warning label read "Kissing Range: Enter at Your Own Risk." The rumor mill had revoked all its previous work. Obviously, three straight days of work with no rest had made their boss lose his mind.

R posited that perhaps someone should make Q go home. Hendrix asked whether Q would even agree to leave, and if he did, whether he would sleep once there or if he'd keep working. R said someone should take Q home and force him to sleep – by drugging him if necessary. Jaime responded that the risk was too great for the volunteer. Who knew what Q would do if he had someone alone for that length of time.

Productivity for most of Q branch had dropped significantly in wake of the scandal. People wondered what would happen to their current boss, who might replace him if he'd honestly lost his mind, what they should do about the situation.

Then the automatic doors slid silently open and James Bond strode in. His suit was in perfect condition, but there was a cut on his cheek with fresh bandages on it and he carried a small bag in his right hand.

A hush fell over the room, only the hum of computers, the noise from video feeds, and Bond's own light footsteps interrupting the silence. Bond walked straight up to Q, popping the imaginary bubble without even an extra intake of breath for courage. Of course not. He was a Double O. But he also didn't know of the danger. He hadn't seen the imaginary sign in everyone's minds.

Without a word, Bond tipped the bag in his hand over, spilling its contents over the worktop next to Q's hands.

"I do wish you'd at least try to bring them back in one piece, 007," Q sighed, head tilting toward the agent.

Q branch held its breath.

Bond smirked and closed the space between them, planting a kiss directly onto Q's lips. R squeaked in the corner while several others let out surprised gasps. It was a scant moment before Bond pulled back again, but when he did Q was wearing a sleepy, pleased smile.

A shrug. "At least I brought you back all the pieces to your new toy," Bond said.

Q shook his head and examined the bits and pieces scattered over his work station. "This was a prototype, you oaf," but there was no heat in his words. "M wants a new one by the end of the week, so now I-"

"Now you'll go home before you scar any more of the minions," Bond interrupted smoothly.

As expected, Q look offended at the thought. "I hardly think I look that terrible, James."

Bond leaned forward and touched his nose gently to Q's neck, inhaling slowly. The department head closed his eyes but otherwise didn't react, though his fingers stilled over his keyboard.

"I'll give you a ride," Bond said, as if getting to sit in his car was a privilege anyone would pay for.

They probably would, actually.

Q didn't respond in words, but he let Bond lead him out of the building with a hand at the small of his back without protesting. In fact, he almost looked asleep on his feet.

Once the two were completely gone, the rumor mill started churning out new stories like the country was on fire.

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The following day, Q ambled in to work with new clothes, a thermos of good tea, sparkling eyes, and bright, vibrant features. He was clean, nourished, and wide awake, ready to take on the newest threat. With all of his faculties running at full speed, it only took him until he reached his workstation to notice how quiet the office was and how everyone seemed to be avoiding his gaze.

"R," he called easily.

His second-in-command arrived shortly, though she was cautious in her approach. He noticed it with keen eyes. "Yes, sir?"

"Why is everyone behaving so strangely?" he asked.

R eyed him warily. "You don't….How much do you remember of yesterday, sir?"

Q gave a slight shrug as he set his things down by his desk. "Plenty. Why?"

"Just…curious," she said slowly.

With a sigh, Q began signing into the systems before him. "I remember the new coding for the firewalls and the alarm system, 003's mission in Sri Lanka. The lounge ran out of tea." And again, more pointedly, "Why?"

"Nothing else?"

Now Q gave her his full attention. She shrank back as his eyes narrowed on her. "What happened?"

R shook her head. "Nothing," she insisted. "There was…an office prank. Q Branch was trying to lighten things up. But I guess you'd gone home by then," she explained quickly.

If Q had to guess, whatever 'office prank' had been planned, it had specifically involved him. However, he had obviously dodged whatever trap had been set for him, so he could forgive her the half-truths.

"I suppose I had," he agreed. "Now where are the broken husks 007 brought me yesterday? I need to get started rebuilding it for M for Saturday."

So it became clear that Q had no memory of his odd kissing behavior from the day before. One by one, group by group, all of MI6 decided to pretend it never happened. The only time it was allowed to be mentioned was if Q was verging on the sixty-hour-work-day mark. Then someone notified Moneypenny, who notified Bond, who came and retrieved Q for a rest at home. Even if 007 was on a mission and Q needed to be taken home, all it took was a conversation over earpieces with a few calmly ordered words to make the Quartermaster abandon his post and go home. So the Kissing Situation was managed. It might never happen again. The rumors were substantiated and forgotten.

The rumors about the relationship between the new Quartermaster and the infamous James Bond, however, abounded and showed no signs of ending.

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fin.