"007, two bodyguards on the right. Yes, the ones with the tacky red ties." Q sighed, staring at his monitors. Six months of working with 007 and he could already answer the man's obnoxious comments before they even left his mouth. He worked with all nine double-ohs but Bond was the only one he could read. The others kept their distance, interacted with him to the extent that they needed to complete the mission, and then disappeared into the ether until they were required again.
James Bond was different. Where the others received their tech in silence and returned it in one piece, Bond always took his with a snide comment and heartfelt thanks but then never returned it. Ever. Q really was not sure which he preferred. Sure, he wanted his equipment back, but the feeling of appreciation and belonging he received from Bond meant more. Not that he planned on vocalizing that opinion. The man was a trained killer and notorious womanizer. Being the eyes and ears of most missions, Q had been privy to a number of these conquests. There was no way a geeky, gangly man in glasses could compete with beautiful, elegant women. Q nursed his school boy crush in his private hours while maintaining his utmost professionalism at work. He didn't plan to spend his tenure as the youngest quartermaster in MI6 history like a love struck, googly eyed teenager.
Glancing at his monitors, he watched as Bond effortlessly made his way through the crowd. Listening to Bond place his typical order at the bar then proceed to make small talk with the other patrons, Q marveled silently how the man excelled in every way that Q failed. He would never be suave or debonair. He would always look slightly too thin for his clothes no matter how well tailored they were. He could never mingle, fitting in no matter the situation. Even in a crowd of tech geeks, his intelligence made him stand out. And in their line of work, to stand out was to be a target.
"Just like Geneva," Bond was saying and Q shook himself realizing he had been daydreaming a bit.
"Yes, but I am pretty sure they aren't looking to kill you; just keep you out of the VIP room."
"I'd like to see them try," Bond huffed, sipping his martini and staring directly into one of the cameras he placed during the evening. Being the subject of that ice blue gaze, even from thousands of miles away, caused Q to shudder involuntarily.
Tonight's mission was more reconnaissance and set up. Tomorrow the real action would take place at the quarterly company event for Torbett Industries. The location was a high class restaurant completely lacking in CCTV cameras. All Q had to do tonight was point out the locations for Bond to set up the cameras and direct his attention to things that may be of use the following night.
When everything was in place, Bond asked, "Are you going to want to debrief tonight or can it wait until morning?"
"Tomorrow will be sufficient. I didn't see anyone there up your usual standards, 007. Have another pressing engagement this evening?" Q tried to keep his voice light with no hint of accusation. He tamped down his jealousy, forcing himself to focus on the mission.
"Only with a couple more martinis and a bottle of Scotch. Good night, Q." Hearing the connection break, Q collapsed in his chair, breathing out a sigh of relief. A night that ended with no explosions and no bullets was rare indeed. Taking a sip of his long cold Earl Grey, he allowed himself to relax. Hopefully tomorrow would go just as well.
Since the first mission that brought them together as Quartermaster and agent, they had worked two more missions. The first was the retrieval of a key drive that a low ranking government official lost, a fact that Q bemoaned loudly to anyone who would listen. He still meant to talk to someone about more secure forms of information storage, as he was certain he could cut the number of missions in half if he was just allowed to upgrade the entire security network for the government.
That mission found Bond in Bangkok, escaping from heavily armed guards through a door thought to be secure. Q had supplied him with an EMP generator shaped as a credit card that allowed the agent to disable the alarm system. He often wondered how much more difficult their jobs would be if henchmen had half a brain in their heads. If they had just checked behind the security door instead of writing it off as an impossibility, the whole mission could have ended differently. If Q felt any relief upon seeing 007 enter the department after returning, he hid it behind his mock despair of over the loss of his equipment.
The second mission was supposed to be a routine bodyguard-type event. The British ambassador to Belize was attending a summit in Geneva and there had been murmurs of an attempt on his life. Since the other double-ohs were occupied with other missions, recovering from injuries, or yet to be replaced following their unfortunate demise, the duty fell to 007 who typically believed babysitting pompous diplomats to be beneath him.
With ambassadors and delegates from locations as far flung as Andorra and Namibia, Brazil and Laos, there were more attachés, translators and bodyguards than actual dignitaries, making it simple work for 007 to blend in to the crowd. Q was unsure whether to be relieved or jealous when Bond took up with one of the bodyguards from the Indian delegation, a woman named Kitty, who kept him occupied during the down time.
After three days, Q himself began to believe that the whole mission was a waste of their time with not one shifty look to speak for through the whole meeting. That evening however, when he spotted Kitty slipping soundlessly from Bond's room and towards the ambassador's quarters, he regretfully had to inform Bond, who racked up another kill in the name of England's defense.
Even though he knew Bond's file in its entirety, that was the moment where Q truly understood what it meant to be a lover of James Bond. He began to realize that he may not be as different from his brothers as he had once imagined when the idea of the danger was more of an incentive than a deterrent. That mission finally caused him to admit to himself that what he felt for Bond was not completely professional. Thankfully, he told himself, James Bond was James Bond and when he could have any number of beautiful women he would never fall for a skinny nerd like Q. The infatuation was perfectly safe as long as it stayed one sided.
He was torn from his musings by an incoming text and, in the abandoned Q-branch, he did not have to hide his smile.
Go home. You work too hard. –007
Agreeing with the arrogant agent, but not willing to inflate his ego further, Q proceeded to finish up some paperwork and shut down everything before finally responding on his way out the door.
Good night 007. Try not to get killed before I get in this morning. -Q
