The importance of stealth and biscuits
Despite his reputation as a ‘blunt instrument’, Bond is well acquainted with stealth. He knows how to blend into the surroundings or lurk, hidden just out of sight, in dark corners, ready to spend hours without moving a muscle.
He’s ready now, concealed well and patiently waiting for his perfect opportunity to come by. His muscles tense in anticipation when his target approaches; Bond watches him slip into the small room, rummage in the cupboards, take what’s needed, put everything together and then leave.
Soundlessly, Bond slips out of his hiding and follows his mark, smooth and quiet like a ghost, keeping carefully out of the line of sight. He maintains just the right distance and moves quickly, aware that every second counts before the security guards absentmindedly staring at CCTV feeds realise he’s not supposed to be heading down this corridor.
Bond knows all about stealth. Knows the difference a split second can make, knows how to walk quickly yet without making a sound, and he knows how to spot the right moment to pounce-
“Chri-ist!” the minion shrieks and jumps, barely avoiding spilling the steaming hot tea from the mug clutched in his hand. “007… what- why-”
Bond smiles, sharp like a shark, and crowds the minion, smoothly backing him up until the keycard in his lab coat pocket beeps against the scanner and the irritatingly secure door to R&D slides open.
“I’ll take it from here,” Bond says and gently lifts the precious mug out of the minion’s hand.
“B-but… the Quartermaster said you can’t-”
“That’s for me to worry about,” Bond says and saunters triumphantly in, leaving the minion squirming undecidedly behind.
R&D is always bustling with life, the electric thrill of genius and innovation always crackling in the air as ideas spark and whirl and develop all across the various sections of the vast yet cluttered space. Minor (and occasionally major) explosions and incidents can and do happen at any minute, and the fire extinguisher is in urgent use at least twice a day. Bond enjoys R&D tremendously, and therefore is quite put out whenever Q throws him out for fiddling with one too many hazardous prototypes. Apparently, warming the Quartermaster’s bed can get one only so much special treatment.
Still, sneaking his way back in is always good fun.
He locates Q almost immediately and assumes his swankiest gait as he strolls over to where he’s busy with the skeleton of a brand new motorcycle he’s working on. He’s also deliciously focused, slightly ruffled, and sporting a grease stain on his cheek. Bond wants to ruffle him even more.
Q purses his lips when he sees him.
“I thought I’d got rid of you,” he says in lieu of a loving greeting.
Bond produces his most charming smile.
“I come bearing gifts,” he offers the tea.
Q huffs but accepts the mug, peering at it snootily.
“Stolen gifts, at that.”
Bond blinks and tries to remember how to look innocent.
“Stolen?” going by the unimpressed look on Q’s face, he’s less than successful.
“I can see Marvin traumatised over there by the door. And you can’t make proper tea for shit, you coffee-drinking heathen.”
“I still brought you a gift,” Bond smiles, taking half a step closer, hands in his trouser pockets, head cocked a little to the side. Q watches him closely over the brim of the mug, and Bond rather likes his chances of being forgiven this time.
“Hmm,” Q says nothing and blows on the tea so as not to appear too yielding.
Bond waits, patient, while Q takes a tentative sip, careful not to burn his lips; Bond knows the soft midnight blue suit he’s wearing is one of Q’s favourites on him, so standing there and looking pretty seems like a good strategy. It pays off - mollified, as always, by having his tea, Q makes a sound in his throat, licks his lips as he puts the mug down on a chair (the only surface near him not cluttered with tools, wires and blueprints), and turns a slightly playful gaze on Bond. Expectant, Bond smiles just a little bit, trying to look especially charming.
“Get me some biscuits and I’ll see about letting you back in,” Q says with the air of an emperor caught on a particularly generous day.
Bond smirks victoriously and says nothing, but sends Q a very meaningful look before he turns around and sashays back out of R&D, lifting the keycard off one of the minions on his way out.
Twenty-nine minutes later he’s on his way back to R&D, carrying an elegantly wrapped box and having made truly spectacular time getting to and back from a nearby bakery Q is quite fond of. So he allows himself to look particularly smug when he re-enters R&D and marches towards Q to make a gourmet biscuit delivery.
Q pretends not to notice him, focused on some intricacies of the wiring, so Bond clears his throat, standing behind him and more than happily eyeing that pert arse presented so well on display as Q leans over the tangle of wires.
“Oh, there you are,” Q also pretends not to be impressed by the box, but Bond doesn’t miss the way his eyes brighten up. “Well,” his eyebrows twitch when he takes the box and peers inside; he’s teasingly prim and composed as always, but there’s a hint of a smile on his normally downward-dipped lips. “These might even get you permission to touch a thing or two around here.”
“Oh?” Bond flawlessly reacts to the nonchalantly dropped innuendo, smirking and smoothly moving into Q’s personal space.
“Mm,” Q puts the box down next to his tea - refilled in Bond’s absence and steaming. Then he reaches out, takes hold of Bond’s tie, and pulls him into a kiss that’s thrillingly demanding.
Bond responds immediately, settling his hands on Q’s hips and squeezing just a little when Q licks deep into his mouth. It’s not often they engage in public displays of affection, especially not around Q’s minions who already gossip enough, but every now and then Q likes to be workplace-inappropriate in front of an audience. Bond always relishes those moments.
(Q enjoys being workplace-inappropriate in private as well, especially in his office with the glass walls blacked out so no one can see them half-undressed and shagging over Q’s desk… but that’s another thing entirely.)
Q ends the kiss as demandingly as he’d initiated it and smirks at Bond, eyes glowing and full of intent behind his glasses as he smooths Bond’s tie back into place.
“Go and don’t make yourself a nuisance,” he says in his best, haughtiest Quartrmaster voice that always sends a tingle of interest right into Bond’s groin. “I’m busy. If you behave, we’ll go home early when I’m done.”
Bond’s eyes gleam.
“I’ll hold you to that.”
Bond is well acquainted with patience - when it suits him.
This started as a drabble for the 15 minute challenge by @mi6-cafe but then I liked how it turned out and decided to write more :) The prompt was ‘honey’ by the lovely @castillon02 - the prompt gave me this idea which somehow does not feature honey in any shape or form :D