I'm really quite please with this one. I perhaps took a few liberties with the prompt, but still, enjoy!
60's
Q left his flat unlocked when he got home for the night. It was more of a courtesy than anything; Bond hated picking locks. Also, Q rather liked his door the way it was, sans bullet holes. He kicked his shoes off with a sigh. Days like this, it was hard to remember why he did what he did. Some missions were so bloody that he…
He shook his head, cutting off his train of thought. He had long since learned that it would get him nowhere. Instead, he filled the kettle and grabbed a pair of mugs from the cupboard at random. While he waited for the water to boil, he wandered over to his movie collection. He had easy online access to literally any movie ever made, but there was something satisfying in actually putting a DVD into the player. He browsed the titles absently, never sure of what would go over well.
The kettle whistled, and he tripped into the kitchen, catching his hip as he always did on the island that separated the sitting from the kitchen. He warmed both mugs, then set an Earl Grey teabag in his own and a darker concoction for Bond. He didn't know why he bothered. The man would probably just hold it for a while before reverting to whatever bottle he'd brought. He made it anyway, because no one should be without a cup of tea after a hard mission.
By the time he was finished with the tea, Bond was perched on the edge of his couch with a bottle of scotch in one hand. He had entered as silently as he had that first afternoon, after returning from a mission in Bangladesh that neither of them liked to remember. Q fetched a tumbler, and handed him both the glass and the mug without a word. They rarely talked during these post-traumatic sessions, and that suited Q fine. He picked a movie at random, which turned out to be "Psycho", shrugged, and put it in. Hitchcock seemed strangely appropriate after the day's events.
As he'd predicted, Bond barely touched his tea. He did drink most of the scotch, though he at least took the time to pour each glass first. When the movie finished, they stared at the blanked glowing screen for a long time. It was unbearably late, but Q knew that he, at least, wasn't going to get any sleep.
"Another?" he asked finally. Bond just nodded, tried to take a swig of the tea, and grimaced at the tepid water. Q put "Psycho" back in its place, then stood baffled in front of the DVD's, trying to decide on another. "Anything in particular?"
Bond shrugged. "Might as well stick with the classics."
So "The Birds" went in next, followed by "Dr. Strangelove" and "Bonnie and Clyde." It was perversely comforting, these old dark films. They were a reminder that they weren't the only ones who lived in fear and anger, a promise that it wasn't just now. The world wasn't falling apart on them, any more than it had been for the past fifty years.
When the sun finally reappeared, it was time for Q at least to head back into work. He gathered up the dishes and deposited them automatically in the sink. He retreated into his room to change and brush his hair, knowing that when he came back out, Bond would be gone. He made himself another cup of tea, and turned his thoughts to the day ahead. It was a difficult business, but he did it, because he was a professional and that was what he did. Still, a little bit of company and a few old movies never hurt.
As always, leave me a review, let me know what you're thinking and what you want to see!
Also, you guys are pretty much the best readers ever. Give yourselves a hand.