Retirement wasn't for everyone. It made some people restless. Especially those who were used to an active working lifestyle. So needless to say, MI6 was nervous to see how 007 would handle retirement. After all, how does a 00 agent retire, when they were more likely to get themselves killed in action?
For James Bond, he never really retired. The 007 moniker was no longer his after he had retired from the 00 program, but he was still the best MI6 had. So it would seem obvious for the seasoned agent to train the new agents. And if there so happened to be a covert assignment, he was usually the one they called. But the former 00 agent's life was infinitely less active.
Not that he minded too much. Retirement had granted him a precious gift: watching his children grow up. He had been at every one of his older children's weddings, without having to worry about his cover or if someone was going to take a shot (well, at least not at him). He had been able to hold his first grandchild (and second, twins of course) without having to worry about some plot against him.
He had, in short, traded in a majority of his adventure for family and peace. And now, he only had one child left in the house.
"I don't like him." James frowned, watching his youngest daughter, and the strange boy she brought home, from the second story landing.
His husband pat his shoulder, "You haven't even met him yet, James." Q smiled. The Quartermaster (he had never been asked to retire, the brilliant bastard), "He's very sweet, and Charmain likes him. Be nice."
Be nice. Like that was going to happen. To him, Charmain was still the little girl he liked to dress up in pigtails and pink dresses, who took her first steps across the floor of Q branch. She was not hitting puberty (even if he had made more than one awkward trip to the store to buy tampons).
And she was certainly not allowed to like boys yet.
Especially boys James hadn't met yet. The boy (Jeremy, Q would remind him) had apparently been Charmain's partner for a science fair experiment. James had been unable to attend said fair because one of his trainees had accidently shot him and he had been in the hospital.
Yet here the boy was, not as Charlie's science partner, but as her boyfriend.
James didn't say anything as he and Q made their way downstairs to greet the two, simply glaring at the boy in question. He was a scrawny thing with big hands and feet, he wouldn't have lasted a single round of combat with any of the Bond children, including Charlie. His glasses didn't quite fit his face (through James had to admit the style reminded him of Q's earlier days), and he was constantly adjusting them.
Weak was the overall image the boy portrayed.
"It's so nice to see you again, Jeremy." Q smiled, "I hope your classes are going well."
The boy nodded, "They are, Mr. Bond."
Q chuckled softly, "You can call me Q." At the boy's confused expression, Q continued, "It's an old nickname that I've never been able to shake."
James smirked, trying to picture the boy's reaction if he ever learned about Q's job, or his own for that matter. He'd most likely faint or piss his pants.
Of course, Q interrupted James's daydreams with an elbow to his ribs. Right, he was expected to greet the boy as well, "Wonderful to finally meet you…Jeremy."
He could see the boy swallowing nervously, "Good to meet you, Mr. Bond."
James didn't bother telling him to call him James, he didn't intend on getting that familiar with him.
Q shook his head, "Come on Charlie, let's finish getting dinner ready while the two "men" talk…"
Before Charmain could protest, her father was dragging her into the kitchen. She sent back a pleading look to James, please be gentle.
Gentle, right…
There was a long moment when James and the boy stared at each other, the boy fidgeting under the former 00 agent's intense gaze. It had been a while since James had made one of his children's boyfriends squirm under his gaze, he missed the feeling.
"So…" The boy finally spoke up, clearing his throat, "Should we just skip to the part where to you show me your gun collection?"
James smirked, leading the boy to the living room, "We could, but we simply don't have enough time to look at all of them." He sat in his arm chair, gesturing for the boy to sit on the couch across from him. The boy did so.
There was another moment of silence. James was enjoying these, watching his victim sweat it out in front of him, "I'm not going to bother with asking what your intentions are towards my daughter. You're, what, 15?"
"16, sir."
Sir now, he must be terrified, "16 then. Not exactly an age where you know what the hell you're doing."
The boy nodded, "So you're just going to skip to the part where you tell me that if I hurt Charlie, you'll bury me somewhere where no one will find my body?"
James smirked, "Oh nonsense." He leaned forward, "There won't be a body left for me to bury."
Another pause, the boy was piecing together what he was going to say next, "Well sir, I don't think you're going to have to worry about that?"
"Oh really?" This would be good. Which line would he use this time? I'd never dream of hurting Charmain, I love her. She's my world. All I want is to make her happy. "You have no intention of hurting her."
"Of course not, what kind of monster intends to hurt someone?" The boy shook his head, "But I'm probably going to mess everything up."
James raised an eyebrow, "Oh?" This was certainly new, "And how do you know that?"
The boy looked up at him, eyes magnified behind his glasses, "I mean, look at me, and look at Charlie. She's…" He paused, "…beautiful."
That was an acceptable adjective, James conceded, "I'm well aware of this fact."
"I know," The boy had his hands on his knees, "I just meant that she's perfect: smart, funny, and beautiful. And I'm…well, not. It's just going to be a matter of time before I do something and she's going to get realize she can do better."
"And how is this supposed to put me at ease about you hurting her?" James asked, curious.
The boy shrugged, "I was just saying that if I ever messed up so bad that I hurt her…she'd probably destroy me before you could even get your hands on me…I've seen what she can do to the assholes—er, jerks—who get in her way."
There was a moment when James had to process what the boy was saying. Then he laughed. Hard. "You're probably right, Jeremy."
Jeremy smiled softly, unsure what to say.
Luckily, they were saved by Charmain coming into the living room, "Dad says dinner's ready, Papa." She smiled softly, "Are you done terrorizing my boyfriend?"
James chuckled, standing, "Of course I am." He looked at Jeremy, "Shall we eat?"
"Of course, sir." Jeremy was on his feet, smiling at Charmain.
"Please, Jeremy, it's James."