He'd only been in the job two weeks.

Two bloody weeks and already he was required to attend a social event. A wedding.

"I imagine it's not really your kind of thing."

"You imagine correctly."

Q and Tanner were in the Chief of Staff's office for a meeting regarding reshuffling some of the Q branch minions with a view to developing their existing skillsets. Q took a sip from his mug of tea.

"Is it normal?" Q asked, looking over the rim of his mug. "I mean, a gathering of SIS employees in one place might garner attention from unwanted quarters."

Tanner waved his hand dismissively. "Oh it's all locked down tighter than a nun's knickers, Q."

Q chuckled. He may not be the most social human in River House or in all of London for that matter, but he liked Tanner. The man understood people and wasn't at all flaunting about it.

"Henson's very well liked amongst the staff. Though the shoes she had to fill had to be fumigated when her predecessor moved to MI5 so she's practically treated like a rock star," Tanner said with a smile.

Q stood then. "I'm sure it will be an affair to remember."

Tanner rose to show him to the door. "Births, Deaths and Marriages. Aren't they always? Plus it'll give you an opportunity to meet some staff from other departments and the Double-Os of course, on a more… relaxed footing." As if anything involving agents that carried a Licence to Kill could be considered relaxing, Q thought to himself.

Tanner can tell Q's smile is a little strained. "If I must…" He paused to look back at Tanner then. "Don't suppose there's a chance I could just Skype in on the ceremony?"

The Chief of Staff adopted his Chief-Of-Staff Look.

"Right. Thought not. Worth a shot," mumbled Q shutting the door behind him.

It wasn't nearly as much the ordeal Q had thought it might be.

At least the ceremony was fine. It's the mingling after the fact that's such a godawful chore. Still. Needs must. But there was no need to steal the brides' thunder. Though to be fair, she didn't seem particularly bothered.

Having familiarised himself with the agents of the Double-O division's files, it's not as though Q should be surprised that they knew how to make an entrance with as much aplomb as knew how to appear out of thin air to dispose of a mark with the ease of tossing aside a used napkin. Even a blushing bride, donned in a suitably clingy-in-all-the-right-places silk gown, couldn't provide sufficient distraction, especially when she herself became distracted by said entrance.

"James! You came!" the bride, Felicity Shoals formerly Henson, gushed.

James Bond - 007, Licence to Kill, was standing at the entrance to the room with whom Q recognised as 004 hanging off his arm. Q hadn't been aware he had been staring until a soft voice next to him shook him out of his vacancy.

"You know, he doesn't actually mean to look so devastatingly gorgeous. He was just born that way."

Q started and looked back over his shoulder at the owner of the voice.

008 - Lucas Hemmings - was gazing at him. And while Q had usually avoided social interaction with all the vigour of an agoraphobe dodging open spaces, he knew an appreciative gaze when he saw one. His avoidance of social niceties wasn't in fact because he was anti-social by nature. He was simply so keyed into the needs of others that sometimes it became overwhelming, blindsiding him unless he was prepared for it. Computers and coding were safer. The impersonal mathematical nature of that world gave him everything he needed and asked for nothing in return.

A slow, easy smile broke over Hemmings' countenance. "You must be our new Quartermaster."

Q turned bodily around to greet the man. "008. It's a pleasure to meet you," he said, a little too primly perhaps.

"The pleasure's all mine. Q," he replied, extending his own hand in return. Q vaguely wondered if the Double-Os ever turned it off. He knew full well he was being assessed, appraised, catalogued and filed away for future reference. Still, he stood unabashed beneath the scrutinising probing look of the agent. Wouldn't do to betray any uneasiness, no matter how intimidating they appeared to be.

"You're much… younger than I expected," he said, though his tone was far from disapproving.

"Looks can be deceptive, 008. Though I'm sure in your line of work you are more than well aware of that fact." Q leaned forward with a slight smile, well accustomed to the sentiments passed on his youthful appearance. "Besides, these days, age is no guarantee of efficiency…"

"And youth is no guarantee of innovation," a deep voice sounded behind him, countering his comment. Q turned around to be faced with 007 and 004. Wonderful. Practically surrounded by the deadliest weapons in the arsenal of the SIS. He almost subconsciously reached around to pat his own arse to make sure none of his staff had surreptitiously tagged a post-it with the words "NEW BOY" in large, neon letters to it.

007 kept a level, deep blue gaze on Q while 004 greeted 008. "Hemmings. Glad to see you made it back from Afghanistan in one piece."

"Knowing the sight of you waited me back in London, Clare, was all the incentive I required," he replied smoothly, kissing the back of her hand.

"Charmer. You're making me blush," she said, feigning coyness.

Bond, feeling mischievous, unhesitatingly tested the waters. He allowed his gaze to roam Q's slight frame from stylish sneakers to the unruly mop of waves seemingly balanced precariously on his head. "I see that MI6 has established a new cradle-snatching policy while I was away," he said coolly.

There was no doubt in his mind that 007 knew exactly whom he was addressing. He regarded the agent with an equally measured look of coolness in return. "Yes. M thought it a good idea to even out the average age of SIS employees. You know, in case the Department of Health mistakenly pegged the building for a retirement home."

Hemmings couldn't suppress the laugh while 004 raised an eyebrow at the brazenness of the youth in the face of three of the Division's deadliest assassins. "I think you're going to do just fine here, Q," Hemmings said good-naturedly, clapping him on the back while passing him one of the two glasses of Scotch he'd just ordered from the bar behind them.

Despite himself, James was feeling particularly enamoured by the sassy Head of Q-Branch. He smiled inwardly as he observed the new boy, not quite comfortable but adapting to his environment. Besides, a little bit of extra-curricular activity never went amiss. As he watched Q glance his way over the rim of those nerdy spectacles, he could see the challenge in his eyes. Raising his tumbler to his lips, Bond found himself wondering if that mouth tasted as brazen as it sounded. He silently made a promise to himself in that moment that he would do whatever it took to find out.