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The next morning, Q woke up stiff and exhausted. He was in bed, alone, and the flat was quiet. He could almost tell himself that it had never happened, that it had all been a… very vivid… dream.

However as the quartermaster stood up, the dull pain in his backside told him otherwise.

Stumbling to the shower, Q tried to slog through the haze of drunken memories from the night before. He could barely remember what had happened, right up until…

"Shit," Q said to himself, resting his head on the bathroom wall.

Under the hot jets of water, Q tried to relax his tense, overtaxed muscles and breathe. So what? He had slept with 007. Lots of people had. What made Q different?

He was still thinking that when he got to work at M16, the throb in his head matching the one in his shoulders and arse.

"So. Rough night?" Eve looked amused as Q walked into the building, and he treated her with a look of pure hatred before gingerly settling himself in front of his computers.

The day was long. Very long. And the one time Q saw Bond, he was handing the agent weapons and sending him to France.

The older man gave no hint that he even remembered making love to Q. So, Q did his best to remain the same way, debriefing Bond and seeing him off.

"Try not to break anything, alright?" was Q's last word to Bond. The slick smile that answered him left Q with the impression that he would have a job to do when Bond got back with every single one of his tools in pieces.


This is all I have time for today : But it's okay, I'll have a nice long chapter for you by this weekend!