Summary: Bond realizes how often he caves in to Q’s requests.
Inspired by this post.
“James, it’s official. I sold my soul to the devil with no hope of return.”
Bond snorted without bothering to look up from his newspaper. Either his hearing was better than he’d assumed, or the noise level in the fast-food restaurant had gone down for a change despite the numerous kids he could still see swarming the play area out of the corner of his eye. “Q, I highly doubt your sister would appreciate you calling her a devil,” he said, sipping the weak coffee that made his eyes water. He glanced up from his paper to find Q watching the play area with a raised brow, and he glanced over to see Q’s two, young, babysitting charges climbing the play structure. He suppressed a sigh: two days ago, he’d imagined a lazy Saturday morning in bed with his partner, preferably with no clothes, maybe getting up every now and then to deal with the cats, something that wasn’t related to work.