Internal Memo: FYEO All MI6 Department Heads
Reminder: To those of you who may have "forgotten" or "who's cat/dog/tortoise may have eaten their invite," be advised that your attendance at this Thursday evening's reopening of the refurbished MI6 HQ is not a request. The Minister for Justice will be there so best foot forward. Your attendance is mandatory. If I must attend, so must each of you.
On pain of death,
Gareth Mallory.
PS Plus ones are encouraged to dissipate the stuffiness of the occasion.
Q closed the email message and could only rest his forehead on his desk and groan.
KNOCK KNOCK!
The distinctive sound of Moneypenny's sharp and shapely knuckles didn't cause Q to raise his head, though he did grant her access to his inner sanctum. "Come in!"
"Ah," she said. "Got the memo then?" she said, all too familiar with Q's lacklustre feelings on grandiose, tuxedo-clad events.
"Be my plus one?" he queried looking up at her then, framed eyes pleading hopefully.
"No can do, my fair Quartermaster. M pipped you at the post for that privilege." She sighed. "His divorce came through this week so he's a lone gunman once again."
Q looked a little dumbstruck at the information. "Should you even be telling me that?"
"Consider it a test of my faith in you not to abuse the information for your own unwieldy gains," she said, propping a thigh on the corner of his desk, much like Bond would have done.
Q huffed at the insinuation that he would be anything less than the model of discretion. "Hardly."
Moneypenny smiled. "Besides. You know this is the 21st century Q, and the Military Intelligence Services are spearheading recruitment of LGBTQ persons. Or I should say, such things are not an issue in a person qualified to do the job."
She took his chin in her hand and levelled her best Moneypenny look-of-stern at him. "Bring a plus one you want to bring. Not one that panders to society's warped perceptions of reality."
"Yes, Miss Moneypenny."
She gave a curt nod. "That's more like it, Quartermaster." She released him and gave him a little pat on the cheek. She looked down around her feet. "Now. Where's my cup of tea and customary cuddle from your furball….?"
Thursday evening 8pm, MI6 Conference Room
"Thank you for doing this, Miss Moneypenny."
Moneypenny laid a gentle hand on Mallory's forearm. "You've thanked me twice already and while I don't want you to think I'm encouraging any informalities between the Head of MI6 and his PA, you should call me Eve. At least in this semi-social scenario, M."
He conceded. "Very well. Eve."
They stood together in the centre of the room, for while M wasn't much of a one for these things himself, he accepted that it was his responsibility to maintain a high level of visibility for the duration of the evening. Needless to say, such visibility lends itself to being cornered by all manner of dignitaries and the like. M was nothing less than the quintessential host that was required of him. He was just launching into the benefits of streamlining the bureaucracy of the decision-making process with the Justice Minister and one of the senior bodies of the CIA for whom a trip to London happened to coincide with the event when Moneypenny excused herself under the guise of grabbing them a couple of more drinks. M noted however, her route was more towards the room's entrance. He glanced over the shoulders of the men in front of him to see her accost the Quartermaster, who was being helped slip out of his wool coat by his… companion.
Of course, Mallory knew Q was gay. But…
Q was looking furtively around the room while his companion had laid a reassuring hand on the small of his back and he leaned over to hear something whispered by Eve in his ear. Moneypenny glanced in M's direction who immediately took the initiative and beckoned the trio over.
"Gentlemen, so sorry to interrupt but there is someone I'd very much like you to meet…" M rumbled through a depreciating smile. M noted Q's companion had drifted off, no doubt to procure some drinks for them. M had witnessed such a move many times before. Not a permanent fixture then. A professional escort.
Moneypenny had him by the arm as the men turned for introductions. "May I present our next generation Quartermaster," said M, as Q extended a hand, pumped firmly by the Justice Minister and taken with a much more measured degree of care by the CIA agent. "I was hoping you'd regale these gentlemen with some of the latest inventive gadgetry soon to be gracing the field, Q."
"Of course, M," Q replied and while M noted the smile was slightly strained, he could see Q appreciated at least being put in a position where he was conversationally competent by his superior.
M listened politely for a few minutes before drifting off to mingle and stood nearby keeping the Quartermaster in his peripheral vision. M vaguely observed that Q's companion for the evening was quite reminiscent of a certain former Double O…
It was an hour later when he regrouped with Moneypenny and just before the official speech by the Justice Minister. M glanced around and caught sight of Q, sipping from a flute of champagne and giggling at something his date for the evening had said. Moneypenny couldn't help but comment on his noticeable distraction.
"Surely you knew…?" she murmured, looking at Q herself just as M glanced her direction.
"Of course I know, Eve. This is the 21st century and while I may be old I'm no backward-thinking, fuddy duddy regressive." Moneypenny smiled. The man could even sound smooth when he was being a little huffy with her.
Knowing it from his file and seeing it in the flesh so to speak? Was an entirely different matter, M thought to himself, though didn't verbally give life to that observation.
"Excuse me, Eve."
"Of course, M," she replied, as he turned to relieve himself before what would no doubt be a long-winded speech. He entered the gents and took a cubicle to compose himself with a moments respite. The door opened thirty seconds later and it was only mere moments after that, in which M realised who the occupants were when a second set of footsteps followed and the voice to whom they belonged spoke.
"I really would like to take you home. No extra charge. It would certainly be no hardship to end the evening with you writhing beneath me…" Q's date was seduction personified.
"That won't be necessary."
M couldn't help the small smile at the curt but cool response from Q.
"Are you sure?" Persistent fellow, M thought to himself, though he could hardly blame the man. He may be his superior but M wasn't blind.
"Quite," said Q. M heard a quick shuffle of feet and a trouser zipper being quickly pulled up, as though Q had to dodge an unwelcome physical advance. He was poised to make his presence known when Q spoke. "We are both professionals. I expect you to behave as such." There was a pause and a few steps forward in which M imagined Q was squaring up to the man. Feisty too it would seem. Always a good quality in our line of work.
"You've been paid for your services and extra to cover a taxi. I think you should leave."
Of course, these particular businesses were fully vetted before being used and M knew the man wouldn't risk besmirching their reputation, but if on the off chance he did… His fingers hovered over the door latch.
"Very well," came the equally cool response. "I'll see myself out."
"Do that."
The door slammed and M heard Q let out a long exhale. "For fuck's sake, who do these people think they are?" he grumbled to his reflection. He straightened his jacket and tie. "For once it would be nice to be cornered by man who didn't think cock was the alpha and the omega of every sodding encounter in the gay community…"
He washed his hands and exited the restroom. M waited a minute more before leaving himself and rejoining Moneypenny. The next twenty minutes were boring as hell, but at least it took his mind off other things.
"Thank God that's over," grumbled Q.
The gathering was dissipating and Moneypenny and Q were standing at the cloakroom while he helped her don her coat. "You mean to say you didn't have fun?" she teased, buttoning up her rather stylish trench coat. Mind you, the woman would look good in a hessian sack.
"Maybe I'll swing by my dentist for some molar extractions for comparative purposes," he retorted sarcastically.
"Ready, Eve?" M, it seemed was well versed in stealth as was any Double O. Q startled ever so slightly.
"Can I offer you a lift home, Quartermaster? As you appear to have been abandoned by your date for the evening."
Q refrained from pointing out that it was he who had sent him packing, but the slightly amused look in his eye made him suspicious that M already suspected that much. Bloody spies, thought Q, is nothing sacred?
"That would be much appreciated, Sir. If it's not too much trouble I mean."
"Nonsense. It's practically on my way. Shall we?"
It took M's Chauffeur thirty minutes to pull up to Moneypenny's abode. She parted with a smile and a wink over her shoulder at Q while M deposited his PA to her front door. Q rolled his eyes. Champagne always made the woman more flirty, even toward those with whom she didn't stand a chance.
M climbed back into the car. Q shuffled into the far corner.
"So," he began, "what did you think of our Justice Minister, Quartermaster?" Q had drifted off slightly while M had taken care of Eve and was on the cusp of solving a problem that had occupied half his brain for the evening. In his relaxed state of mind, he briefly forgot where he was and with whom he was currently sharing the back seat of a car. "A bit stuffy, but he's a politician so hardly a surpr…." He trailed off, risking a glance at M who apparently was giving him a steely-eyed stare whilst doing his best it seemed, to fight back a grin.
"I'm a politician. Of sorts you realise…" he replied, quirking an eyebrow.
Q's mortified look at his faux pas broke M's resolve. He released a chuckle, warmed with wine and finally free of the pomp and circumstance of the occasion.
"But you're absolutely right, Q. Poles up their backsides that could rival the Olympic standard, the lot of them." Q flopped back with a laugh, the tension ebbing from his body. And for the next twenty minutes they debated and argued on the purpose of the Olympics and the origin of some of the sports that made up the games, meandering and ending somehow on the topic of Greek Philosophy.
Before Q knew it, they were outside his Bayswater home. He thanked M and climbed out of the car. His foot was on the first step leading to his front door when he heard M clear his throat, drawing his attention back to the car, idling by the kerb.
"Oh and Quartermaster?" M rolled down the window a little further and gave him a knowing smile. "I look forward to your next move," he said cheerily, before tapping the dividing window and signalling the driver.
It took Q a few minutes to move from his spot on the pavement while he was left pondering on what the hell had just happened.