Summary: Alec Trevelyan, 006, returns to London after a long mission to find a new quartermaster in place. Bond wonders how Q and Alec know each other. Post-Skyfall. Features brotherly banter and shenanigans. Bright Star 'verse, but may stand alone.
Title: The title of this fic comes from a John Le Carre book. I haven't read it yet, but it's on my to-read list!
Note: Features references to my fics "The Recruit" and "A Sudden and Unexpected Promotion." I would recommend reading those stories before this, but it's not strictly necessary. Takes place after "Crash and Burn" but before "The Star to Every Wandering Barque."
The Spy Who Came in From the Cold
2013
Q, as usual, was working late.
Bond, who had returned from a short mission earlier that day, none the worse for wear (but sans equipment, as usual), had spent the afternoon and evening loitering around Q-Branch, seemingly having nothing better to do than to get under Q's feet and bother his minions - that is, his staff.
And now, he was leaning casually against Q's desk, tossing a screwdriver up and down in his hand and looking very bored.
"007," Q sighed for the nth time that day, "Please go away. I am too busy to deal with you right now."
Bond smiled slowly and threw the screwdriver up higher than his previous throws. It turned gracefully in the air, reaching its zenith and seeming to hover there for a moment, before it fell, turning, turning, down into Bond's waiting hand.
"You're always busy, Q," he drawled. "Are you ever not?"
Q rolled his eyes and huffed, never taking his attention from the screens in front of him. "I would be less busy if certain agents didn't make more work for me by destroying all of their equipment," he said pointedly.
Bond chuckled and tossed the screwdriver again.
A slender hand snaked out and caught it on its descending arc.
Bond raised an approving eyebrow at the quartermaster, who had caught the tool without looking away from his screens.
"Can't you go bother someone else?" Q groaned, "Like, oh, I don't know, Moneypenny or someone?"
Bond grinned, "They've all gone home for the day."
Q snorted. "Lucky me, then. Unpaid overtime, plus babysitting. Lovely. Why don't you go home, too, Bond?"
Bond snorted and picked up the screwdriver from where Q had put it.
"Bored," he said, and began tossing the tool once more. And really, it was boring at home, since there was nothing to do there but eat, sleep, and get drunk.
Q caught the screwdriver again, this time leveling a glare at Bond as he did so, and put it back down on the desk with an irritated click. "Bond, tools are not meant to be thrown about in so cavalier a manner. For the last time, please go bother someone else. I haven't the time for this."
Bond tilted his head and decided to poke a little bit more. Q wasn't actually angry yet; it would take quite a bit more prodding to achieve that.
"I suppose," he said, not meaning it in the least, "I could go bother one of your minions." He gestured towards the open office door to the night shift staff with a toothy grin.
He got Q's undivided attention at that. Hands on his skinny hips and his lips flattened into a tight line, he gave Bond the full force of his most annoyed glare. "You will do no such thing, 007. I need them in full working order, and letting a bored double-oh loose among them will only terrify them into complete uselessness."
He huffed another displeased breath and motioned imperiously to the sofa in the corner. "Very well, Bond. You may stay here. Sit. Touch nothing."
Bond smirked and spread himself out in a controlled sprawl on the comfortable couch like a very satisfied cat. "I'm still bored," he remarked.
Q growled and in one swift movement, threw the screwdriver like one would a throwing knife straight at Bond's head. Without looking.
Bond, of course, caught it, surprised as he was, and looked at his quartermaster in a new light. If he hadn't caught it, the sharp end would have gone right through his left eye.
How interesting.
He had, of course, looked into his new quartermaster's files as soon as he'd gotten the chance, back during the Silva mission. Mallory and the new Q had been new players then, and he had wanted to know all about them if he was to work with (or around) them.
He had found the expected sort of information for both: Gareth Mallory had been in the SAS and had served in Northern Ireland, including three months in the hands of the IRA.
Q (name redacted) had been hired straight out of university, and had been a very good hacker with a degree in engineering who had been given the usual "come work for us or go to jail" talk before joining the service. He had been R for two years before the explosion at MI6 had resulted in his premature promotion.
A bit more digging while MI6 was getting used to calling Mallory 'M' had turned up more information. Q's redacted name was actually Robert Frobisher, although he strongly discouraged people from using it with a raised eyebrow and a crisp "What is the use of having an alias if one does not use it?"
Those who knew his name seemed to be mostly Q-Branch staff, who all seemed to like and respect him, even though he was by far the youngest employee in the branch, and by no means the longest-serving - another interesting observation. They even seemed to think that Q had six doctorates, which was ridiculous.
There had been nothing in the file or in office gossip to suggest such a facility with throwing knives, or guns for that matter. One could reasonably expect a quartermaster to be able to use the equipment his branch provided, but Bond's poking about had discovered that Q's marksmanship scores were very good. Extremely good. Good enough to qualify for the double-oh program good.
Intriguing.
Bond often wondered at the veracity of Q-Frobisher's files. After all, they were digital, and Q was nothing if not a genius at computers. It would be very simple for him to just make the whole thing up. Actually, Bond was quite sure that Q had done some creative editing in his own files; the dates simply didn't match up with peoples' memories, to begin with. A person might very easily hack a computer file, but hacking people was near impossible.
Bond, knowing this, had gone about asking innocent questions about the quartermaster of a variety of MI6 employees, and had had absolutely no luck in finding the truth. Had Q been at MI6 for three years or seven? How old was he? Everyone he'd questioned had had a different answer. Even the other double-ohs were of little help, beyond assuring him that the new Q was 'a good egg.'
There was that rumor, too, about him scolding dozens of panicking MI6 employees directly following the explosion. That part of it was believable, as the young man had the gall to scold even a double-oh. No doubt he'd scold the Prime Minister if he wanted. The part where he had evidently climbed out of a free-falling lift compartment and up the shaft (like a double-oh, which he was very much not) was less plausible, however, though every Q-Branch tech had readily confirmed it with awe.
(It had often struck Bond that Q-Branch techs viewed Q as something like a god, clearly believing that no feat was above his considerable abilities.)
Now, a year later, as Bond was mulling over these points one by one, like beads on a string, another unrelated thought struck him.
"I heard that 006 is due back," he said.
Alec Trevelyan, the next longest-serving double-oh agent after Bond, had been in deep cover in Russia for the last two years. Two years, which meant that Alec had yet to meet their new quartermaster.
Bond grinned as he imagined what Alec's reaction would be to Q, who, as Bond had remarked upon their first meeting, was still young enough to have the occasional outbreak of pimples when especially stressed. His complexion was still recovering from Bond's latest SNAFU.
Alec still didn't know how positively dangerous the skinny little boffin could be with only his laptop.
Oh, yes. This certainly had the potential to be hilarious.
"Yes, he should be here tonight," Q said, sounding a little distracted as though executing a particularly tricky bit of coding, "Technically, he was supposed to be here this afternoon, but well...he never does as he's told, does he? He missed his flight - I'm quite certain that he was the cause of a small fire near his hotel - but he boarded a later one. Should be touching down in about half an hour."
Despite his furiously-typing fingers, Q had a fond smile on his face. Interesting.
"You seem to know him rather well. I didn't know you'd met him. He left for his mission before your time, didn't he?"
At this, Q let out a surprised laugh. "Before my- Before my time?" he sputtered, a wide grin spreading across his face, and finally looking away from his computer screens. "Bond, just because you hadn't met me before I became quartermaster doesn't mean that I sprang up from the ground fully formed. I was R before this, you know? I'd met all of the other agents, and worked with most of them on some level. You were the special case who needed M to hold your hand because you wouldn't listen to any other handler."
This last was said with an amused chuckle and shake of the head.
Bond scowled, but didn't really mean it. "You're my handler now."
Q snorted. "I'm also special. Either that, or very unlucky."
Bond decided to dig a little more. To stave off boredom, of course. "So you do know him well? 006?" He noted how Q's expression softened when 006 was mentioned. "Did you sleep with him?"
Alec, Bond knew, was flexible, and Q was very, very gay. It wasn't impossible. Young new employees at MI6 often went through a phase of having gigantic crushes on field agents, especially double-ohs, and there was no reason why Q should be any different.
Q shut up like a clam, but Bond detected a faint trace of amusement running under the indignation. "My personal life is none of your concern, 007. Now, please either go away or shut up. I have work to do before our resident pyromaniac returns. He'll be here soon."
Well, obviously, Bond was not going to leave. Not now, not at this point. This was much too amusing to let go of now.
Sure enough, Alec Trevelyan soon sauntered into Q-Branch like he owned the place, despite having never been to the new HQ in the underground tunnels after the SIS building had been blown up last year.
The minions, sensing the danger oozing out of the man, skittered out of his path as he made his way towards Q's office.
He stopped in the doorway, and his sharp eyes took in the two people in the room. His stance relaxed immediately and a big grin spread across his face as he walked in, closing the door behind him.
Bond watched Q, too. The younger man was sporting a happy smile and his eyes had crinkled up with genuine delight behind the thick hipster glasses.
Bond, being closer, got up from the sofa and walked forward to greet his old friend. "Alec."
"James," Alec returned with his charming, sharp-toothed grin. "Heard you died again. Got tired of hell, did you?"
Bond chuckled, the laughter coming easily with Alec, even after two years apart. "Came back specifically to annoy M." His M, not the new one.
Alec spread his arms to hug him, and James readily stepped into the embrace. Alec had always been more tactile than James, a little more free with his affection, not that any double-oh was ever really emotionally attached to too many people. There were exceptions, and those people were special.
Alec gave him an extra squeeze to let him know how much he'd missed him, and to let him know, too, that he was sorry about M. He ended the hug with the usual back-slapping and shoulder-clapping that Bond knew to expect from him.
It was interesting to see how Alec's face changed when he turned his attention to Q, who had stepped quietly around his desk and was standing watching the two agents' reunion with intrigued eyes.
"Quartermaster." Alec's voice was fond, with a gentle softness that set Bond's senses tingling.
"006." Q's smile was equally affectionate.
Had they really been lovers? Bond wondered. But no, there was no sexual tension, which was something that he was especially sensitive to. Then what was their relationship? More than casual friendship, at least.
Alec strode forward and picked Q up in a giant bear hug. The younger man let out an undignified squawk and flailed.
"006. Put me down this instant," Q said angrily, but his expression, which wasn't visible to Alec, was glowing with delight. "This is highly unprofessional."
Interesting, Bond thought. Almost like...siblings? Impossible, of course, since Alec had been orphaned young.
Alec put him down (gently, Bond noted) after another affectionate squeeze, then placed his big hands on the slender shoulders, brushing off imaginary lint with a proud air. "Quartermaster. Look at you! Youngest quartermaster in the history of MI6. We all knew it was coming, but bloody hell!"
Q gave him a sad smile, as he shrugged awkwardly under the warm weight of Alec's hands. "It did happen rather earlier than expected. And not quite as planned."
Alec let one hand down, leaving the other still on Q's shoulder. "He was a good man, but…" He trailed off with a wince.
The previous Q had been a good scientist and researcher and a good man on top of it all, but he had been a bloody awful head of the department (and knew it, too, the poor bastard, but there really wasn't anyone else, what with all the petty office politics floating around the place), and the agents had taken the brunt of his deficiency.
Q sighed, his eyes downcast and a sad expression on his face. "Let's not speak ill of the dead, Alec. He was a brilliant scientist and a good mentor to me."
Alec patted the bony shoulder under his hand and nodded. "He would have been proud of you," he said as a peace offering.
Q's eyes darted to the Q₁₀ mug on his desk. Alec saw it, and picked up the white ceramic mug to look at it more carefully.
"He left it to me in his will." Q's smile turned wobbly, so Alec put the mug down gently and hugged him again, letting him bury his face in his shoulder.
Q clutched at the back of his jacket and heaved a big sigh, as though letting go of some heavy load.
After a minute, though, the younger man shook off his melancholy and resumed his usual brisk, businesslike manner, taking his place behind his desk again. "I don't suppose you have any equipment to check in, 006?"
Alec shrugged, the flippant smirk on his face telling both Q and Bond that he thought that the notion was ridiculous. "Two years is a long time, Quartermaster."
Q had his hands on his hips again. "And it was a lot of equipment," he scolded, frowning.
Alec looked as though butter wouldn't melt in his mouth and went to sit on the edge of Q's desk, smiling innocently at him.
Q sighed and let his head fall back in defeat. "I knew it was too much to hope."
Alec, now smirking, reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a watch, which he tossed to Q. "The strap broke, but it still works."
Q caught it in one hand, and looked pleased, but pursed his lips anyway. "Does it?"
"It tells the time," Alec said, exasperated, "What more do you want?"
Q merely raised an eyebrow at him. "You could get your arse off of my desk, for starters."
Alec threw his head back and laughed heartily, but did not move from his seat. "Still a pretentious little brat, aren't you?"
"That's pretentious little brat, sir, to you. I rank above you now, 006," Q said with a triumphant smirk.
Alec shook his head, still chuckling, "Your head's going to get so big one of these days, Danny, Q-Branch will be able to use it as a hot air balloon."
Bond raised his eyebrow and filed the name away for later perusal.
"Hot air balloons are so 1800s," Q quipped, tapping away on his tablet. "Are you feeling nostalgic for your childhood? Also," he looked up and fixed Alec with a trademark Q Look, "You know better than to call me that, 006."
Alec had taken the joke about his age with a laugh, then raised his hands in a placating gesture. "I know, I know. I'll use your secret spy name from now on, Quartermaster."
Q nodded, satisfied. "You'd better, if you know what's good for you, agent."
Alec leaned further in, invading Q's personal space. "Or what, are you going to send me out with a water pistol?"
Q shrugged. "I was thinking something along the lines of dental floss," he said nonchalantly, then reached a hand towards the invading agent's face.
Bond watched the pair in amazement. Had Q actually had the audacity to flick a double-oh agent on the nose? How was he still alive?
Alec only poked a finger into the boffin's skinny, cardigan-covered ribs. "Garroting dental floss? Might be fun."
"Mint-flavored, waxed," Q said primly, while trying to squirm away from the tickling finger.
"But aren't I your favorite agent?"
Good god, Bond thought, was Alec actually pouting?
"Are you?" Q challenged.
Alec reared back in dramatic and feigned dismay. "Don't tell me you've replaced me?"
Q merely arched a brow at him.
"Well, who is it? Don't tell me it's Bond."
Bond didn't like Alec's accusatory tone, so he decided to deflect. "I think it's Papava," he said, throwing 004 under the bus, "They get along very well."
Alec looked supremely offended. "Oh, that backstabbing bitch."
Q had an amused look on his face that he was evidently trying to suppress, though not very hard. "She certainly brings back more of her equipment in one piece than the two of you combined on average."
"You calculated the statistics?" Alec said, throwing his hands in the air. "What am I saying? Of course you calculated the stats. Let's have it, then."
Q pulled up a page on the tablet and slid it over to him without giving him a glance or saying a word. The smug silence was eloquent enough.
Bond peered over Alec's shoulder at what was definitely a spreadsheet of all the equipment issued to each double-oh with dates and various percentages. 006 and 007 had the lowest scores.
Alec whistled. "You gave her a Bugatti? And an exploding perfume bottle? Hair dryer gun?"
It was Bond's turn to pout now. "She gets a Bugatti and bulletproof lingerie with knives in it, but I can't even have an exploding pen?"
Bond got a Look from the quartermaster, reminding him of the expression his old headmaster at school used to get when he had been especially naughty. "What do they say about nice things, Bond? Guns are not meant to be fed to komodo dragons."
Alec snorted. "You-?" He snickered.
"Long story," Bond said, waving aside Alec's incredulity, "And it was once. I can't believe you're still sore about that, Q."
"Oh, you can believe it," Q said sarcastically, "By the way, I'm also still sore about the gun you threw in a volcano, and the one you flattened with a tank, the one you used as the not-so-metaphorical wrench in the works...Shall I go on?"
Well now, it was time to defend himself, or at least try. "You gave me a radio and a gun the first time you sent me out. A radio!"
Q looked up from his computer with a deadpan expression. "I'd read your file. You managed to bring the radio back, so I upgraded you a half-level."
"There are levels?"
"Oh yes, of course." Q rolled his eyes. "Keep asking and I'll demote you to the dental floss level."
Alec was grinning widely the whole time, his eyes bouncing between the two of them as they bantered. He chuckled and moved to engulf Q in a big hug again. "I missed you, kid."
Q relaxed into the tight embrace with a sigh, immediately pausing his neverending typing for his friend. "I missed you, too. And I'm not a kid."
"Of course. I bet you even shave now," Alec said, grabbing Q's chin with his big hand, which the younger man batted away with an annoyed look. The agent feigned wiping away a tear. "My little boy's all grown up."
"Shut up, Alec," Q said, the laughter evident through the mature facade he was trying to exude. "I was shaving before I ever met you, you tosser."
Alec ruffled the already-messy hair, then slung his arm around the thin shoulders with a congenial air. "So are you about ready to go now? I take it you haven't eaten yet, as usual."
Q tilted his chin up to look at the taller man. "Are you buying?"
"What, not old enough to buy your own drinks and dinner?" Alec teased.
Q chuckled and elbowed him away, patting his hair down into something a little neater than the bird's nest Alec had disheveled it into. "Give me ten minutes to wrap things up, Alec. I'll buy yours if you promise to tell me all about your adventures. The unofficial bits."
Alec perched himself on the edge of the desk again. "Every detail."
"Bond," Q said, not looking up from his computer screen, as usual, "you're paying for yourself, by the way."
"What?" Bond said, glad that he wouldn't have to make up an excuse to be invited along, "I have adventure stories, too."
Q snorted. "Yours consist solely of wrecking my equipment, blowing things up, and seducing women."
"And?"
"Of those three things," Q said sternly, "I'm only interested in one."
Bond barked out a laugh. "Good point." Q was rather fond of explosions - in controlled settings, of course.
"Dinner and drinks on me if you tell me how you two got to be such good friends," he offered, itching for more information.
Q and Alec exchanged looks, and Bond saw the moment Alec let Q decide.
"No," the quartermaster said, smirking. "Why ruin a good mystery?"
Now, this was interesting.
. . . . .
Note:
If you're wondering why my fics jump all over the place from baby Q to adult Q and everything in between, it's partly because I write like that but also because I want to balance funny/fluffy stories with angst. I have a schedule for posting my stories that takes into account certain holidays and whether I posted a kid Q story or adult Q story or funny/sad story recently. I've got enough to last until about Christmas right now.
I've started writing that Sam's Mamma Mia fam meeting his spy fam story that I asked you guys about last week, but you probably won't see it for a couple of months (see above). Also, right now, it's a bit rubbish (as the Brits say) so it needs a lot of tweaking and maybe some more planning. Thanks for the feedback!
