hive london

morethancupcake  asked:

For the prompt thing : 00q - sweet like honey :) please and thank you

“What’s all this?” asked Q. He barely had time to take in the sight of a row of jars on his desk before another fit of sneezing hit him.

A tissue was presented to him, and after another embarrassing moment dealing with phlegm, Q looked up into Bond’s concerned blue eyes. “It’s local honey from hives around London,” he said. “I heard you were having allergy problems.”

Q huffed. “If Medical would refill my prescription, I’d be fine,” he said, turning to get another tissue and blow his nose again. “Why?”

“Local honey has pollen in it, a teaspoon a day is supposed to-” began Bond.

“Not why the honey,” said Q. “Why do you care?”

Bond gave him an amused look. “You think I shouldn’t want a phlegm-free earpiece next time I go out, and perhaps a gun you’ve not sneezed inside?”

“Your concern is touching,” said Q, though he relaxed at such a mundane, self-serving explanation. Bond being selfless and thoughtful was more than Q’s allergy-addled brain could handle. “Colin?”

“I’ll rotate you through them,” Colin said, gathering up the row of jars. “Might have to experiment a bit to see how much is right.”

“Three big spoonfuls,” said Q, trying not to be embarrassed at his sugar habit. “And make sure it all dissolves.”

“Will do,” said Colin, beaming as he toted the lot back to the tea room, followed by a a stray minion or two hoping for a cup of their own. Colin wouldn’t share Q’s honey, but everyone knew he made the best tea, and Q had long ago given him leave to make it for anyone who asked as long as he got his other duties done.

It had been one of his most popular decisions since taking over the post as Q.

Bond chuckled. “I’ll have to arrange a bigger delivery,” he said, “if it helps.”

“If it helps,” agreed Q, “that would be much appreciated. Thank you.” Q was still a little suspect of Bond’s motives for a moment, but then he was too busy sneezing and blowing his nose to worry.

When he took the first warm, honeyed sip of tea from his favourite mug, Q decided he just really couldn’t care less about ulterior motives. “This one is a good one,” said Q, breathing in the steam.

“I’ll keep notes,” said Colin, moving to his computer to start a new spreadsheet.

“I’ll leave you to it,” said Bond, heading out just as unexpectedly as he’d arrived.

Q stared after him, absolutely not ogling his arse in those obscenely well-fitted trousers. “Huh,” he said.

“D'you think he wants better equipment or a date?” asked Divya, one of the senior minions.

“Or both,” added Colin, sipping a cup of his own tea.

Q huffed. “I’m going to assume the former, though I think I’m going to have you do his gun this time, Divya. You said you wanted the practice.”

“And he did say he wanted a gun that hadn’t been sneezed in,” she replied. “All right, do you have the info on his mission?”

“That’s weird,” said Colin, poking at Q’s email for him while Q continued to cradle his tea mug like it held the elixir of life. “We don’t have one. He’s not scheduled to go out.”

“My vote goes to date, then,” said Divya. “He did wear his tightest trousers for you.”

Colin chuckled.

Q sighed, and pretended that he absolutely wasn’t considering whether or not he’d say yes.

(He’d say yes.)