When it Rains it Pours (James Bond, Q) Complete 1/10

[matilda3948]

Happy 2019 everyone!! Hope the first day of the new year is off to a good start.

I struggle a little with New Years. I get a little blue and introspective and kind of angsty. It always passes, but until it does I find that writing helps. So, I've got this over-the-top, angst-riddled, hurt/comfort story featuring a miserable Q. I plan on writing a second part that returns to banter and cuteness but for now it's just sad stuff (and sneezing  ). 

**

Q was riffling through his desk drawers in a somewhat frantic manner when Bond came into Q Branch. He had an entire clever series of excuses for how he damaged all his equipment this mission, but immediately sensed something was off and decided to attempt to be professional. Q looked frazzled; Q never looked frazzled. Even in the midst of the most tense situations, the young man was cool and composed.

“I don’t have time for you today, 007. Turn what’s left of your equipment in to R and be on your way.” Q spoke crisply and slammed his top desk drawer shut, obviously not finding what he was looking for. Bond unceremoniously dumped several pieces of what once were a gun and a mobile phone on R’s desk then returned to Q’s side.

“What’s wrong?” Bond asked quietly.

“I can’t find my spare set of house keys. I always leave them here in case I need to leave town suddenly and have a coworker take care of my cats and now I can’t find them anywhere,” he said, slamming another desk drawer.

“Are you leaving town?” Bond asked.

“I’m supposed to catch the 10:15 to York and I’m going to miss it if I don’t leehh hehh Ahh hehAHHNGKTss!” Q spun away at the last moment and sniffled a sneeze in the bend of his arm. Bond frowned as he watched Q get a tissue from the box on his desk and wipe his eyes before blowing his nose.

“I want you to slow down, take a breath, and tell me what is going on,” the agent said. Q leaned against his desk and closed his eyes for a moment. Bond was right—he was about to lose it. “My aunt died,” he said quietly.

“Q, I’m sorry. When is the funereal?”

“It was last month,” he said.

“Why are you just going now?”

“Because…” Q paused, holding up a finger and reaching behind him for another tissue. ahhGNTshh! “Sorry. I’m a bit under the weather.”

“When it rains it pours.”

“Indeed,” Q said. “Officially, I ‘died’ nine years ago when I joined MI6. I couldn’t risk going back for her actual funereal.” Bond crossed his arms as he did a quick mental calculation of Q’s age. He couldn’t have much more than 20 when he started working.

“What are the chances you’ll be recognized if you go back now?” Bond asked.

“None. My aunt was my last living relative. There’s no one there now but I couldn’t be sure that an old friend or two of hers would have flown in for the service last month. It just wasn’t worth the risk.” He sniffled and Bond wasn’t sure if it was because Q wasn’t feeling well or because he was sad. He had a lot of questions for the younger man, none of which were appropriate to ask now.

“This isn’t the sort of trip you should make alone,” Bond said. Q snorted.

“Who’s going to go with me? You?”

“Thought you’d never ask,” Bond said with a smirk.

“No. No. No. Bond, no.”

“Come on. You’ve missed your train. I’ll drive.” When he saw Q gearing up to argue with him again, Bond laid a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t go alone, Q. It’s going to be difficult in all the ways you’re expecting and in ways you haven’t even thought of yet. You’re on edge, you’ve got a cold, and if I know you, you haven’t slept properly in three days.” Q’s eyes teared up and he swallowed a lump in his throat. He gave Bond a tight nod. He patted Q on the arm. “Good boy. I’m going to run home and grab a few things, then I’ll meet you out front in an hour.”

“Still can’t find my keys,” Q said. Bond stepped around him and opened his top desk drawer, reaching all the way into the back corner and fished out small key ring. “I…”

“This is why you’re not going alone.”

hh’NGTK! Ngtkshh!

“So is that.”

An hour later Q stepped outside to find Bond waiting beside an idling Range Rover. Bond took Q’s bag and put it in the back seat. Q opened the passenger door and was surprised to find a travel pillow and a blanket folded up on the front seat. Bond slid into the driver’s seat and said,

“You coming?”

“Right. Yes.” Q got in and buckled his seatbelt. “Thanks for these,” he said sheepishly. “Here’s the address,” he added, handing Bond a piece of paper. The older man typed it into his GPS and reached into the back while it calculated their route.

“Here.” He put the bag in Q’s lap. Inside was a few bottles of water, some over the counter cold medicine, tissues, throat lozenges, and some snacks. Q was feeling a little overwhelmed by the thoughtfulness Bond had put into prepping for their road trip.

Five hours and twelve minutes, the GPS chimed.

“Challenge accepted,” Bond said, pulling out into traffic. Q bounced his foot nervously and tried to find a topic of conversation but couldn’t come up with anything. Instead he dug through the shopping bag and got out a bottle of water. He sipped it slowly, enjoying the temporary relief it brought to his stinging throat. He knew Bond was watching him out of the corner of his eye and the scrutiny was becoming unbearable. The other thing that was quickly becoming unbearable was the pressure in his sinuses. It had been increasing all morning and now it felt like a constant throbbing at the bridge of his nose and beneath his cheekbones. He could feel a sneeze building and didn’t have the energy to fight it. Besides, it wasn’t like he was going to be able to avoid it for the entire drive, might as well not even try. Q took a couple tissues and held them in his lap waiting for the inevitable. He sniffled wetly and felt the tickle increase, crawling down the length of his nose. He blinked and sniffed again stoking the fire.

HEHuhh..huh Ehh… hh’NGKshhoo! Ngtkshhoo!

“Bless you,” Bond said. Much as Q wanted to answer, his throat seized up and he turned towards the window coughing into the damp tissues.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

“More than ‘a bit’ under the weather then?”

“Just a cold. I’ve been fighting it for a few days.” Bond made a noncommittal noise that Q wasn’t sure how to interpret.

“Get some rest, Q. I’ll wake you when we’re close.”

He was tired. And if he was asleep he’d avoid having to answer the inevitable questions he knew would be coming from Bond at some point or another. Q tucked the pillow behind his head and covered his upper body with the blanket, curling towards the window. They’d barely left the city when his breath evened out and Q drifted into an uneasy sleep.

Bond’s mind was going nearly as fast as his car. He’d asked Moneypenny to find them a hotel and a decent place to eat while they were driving. Her over the top approval of Bond escorting Q on a personal trip was rather annoying but, from the moment he found his quartermaster disheveled and on the verge of losing it over a set of lost keys, James knew this was something beyond the ordinary. He didn’t really know anything about Q’s background but the uncharacteristic emotional distress coming off Q in waves worried him. His poor health was just adding fuel to the fire. James had made his decision even before broaching the subject with Q: he would not be taking this trip alone.

They were about thirty minutes from the cemetery (or an hour according to the GPS) when Q woke with a sudden gasp. His heart was pounding in his ears and he was burning up. He fumbled to get the blanket off of him and tried to put his window down but his fingers were shaking too hard to properly work the switch. Bond used the control pad on his side and slid the window half way down, filling the SUV with a rush of freezing wind. Q closed his eyes and leaned into the fresh air. In a less worrying situation, Bond might have made a quip about him being a very intelligent labrador riding with his head out the window. A minute or two later and Q sat back in his seat and put the window back up.

“Sorry,” he said. “Bad dream I think.” He sniffled wetly and grabbed a few tissues. “Or maybe just general anxiety about this whole thing,” he mumbled.

“Better now?” Bond asked, glancing at his passenger. Q nodded but he clamped the tissues to his nose and half stifled a trio of sneezes.

ehhNKT’shh! hh’NGKshhoo! Ngtkshhoo!

“Bless you.”

“Thags. HehhIHH…sorry—eh Heh more—hehIHHNKT’shh! EhhKtshhooo! hh’Ktsshhoo!”

“Bless you again. Maybe less hanging out the window in the future?” Bond suggested though, in truth, he suspected Q was just feeling worse.

“You might be right,” Q said after blowing his nose. He looked out the window and felt a knot in his stomach. “We’re close,” he said.

“MmHm.”

**

The tires crunches along the gravel paths of the well-kept cemetery. It might have been a nice little park if not for the headstones and statues lined up in rows. A steady rain had started to fall when they were about ten minutes from their destination and neither man had spoken a word for at least twice that long. James pulled into a parking spot and turned off the engine.

“Do you want me to go with you or stay in the car?” he asked. Q looked at him and opened his mouth but couldn’t seem to formulate an answer. A full minute passed and the younger man still didn’t say anything. “I’ll go with you,” Bond decided. He got out and took a large umbrella from the back seat before coming around to Q’s side of the car. James opened the door and held the umbrella so Q would be sheltered from the rain but Q made no move to unbuckle his seatbelt or get out of the car. “You don’t have to do this,” Bond said. “We could try tomorrow or I’ll drive you straight back to London this evening.” His words seemed to shake Q from whatever fog he was in and he got out of the car, shivering when the cold, damp air hit him.

“It’s fine. Let’s go.” His breath made little puffs and the patter of rain on the umbrella made the whole scene feel even more depressing. Q slowly made his way up a small hill and paused in front of a row of small, granite headstones; he stopped in front of the one the furthest to the right. Bond stood next to him, keeping them both in the shelter of the umbrella. Q’s eyes were dry but unfocussed, staring at his aunt’s grave. Bond looked at the four other headstones in the row. A woman, presumably Q’s mother, died in 1985. The next three all in 1996: Q’s father, twelve year old sister, and Q’s. The full weight of it hit Bond square in the chest. No wonder Q had been a mess; he didn’t just have to visit his aunt’s grave, but those of his entire family.

“My mother’s plane crashed. Cancer took my aunt and a car accident took the rest,” Q said quietly.

“Q—” Bond stopped when the younger shook his head.

“Don’t.”

Truth be told, James was relieved. He had no idea what the next words out his mouth were going to be. What could he possibly say? He stepped a few inches closer to Q so that their shoulders were very nearly touching and stayed silent. Keeping watch was a familiar task, so that’s what he did.

Q’s fingers were starting to go numb and his nose was beginning to run. He suspected that once he warmed up he was going to feel genuinely awful but, despite the cold, he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from his aunt’s name. He was glad Bond was there; it saved him from having to think or make any actual decisions. He sniffled and rubbed his nose against his wrist and a handful of tissues appeared in front of him. Q nodded his thanks as his breath hitched sharply. He didn’t have the energy to fight it.

heh Hehh…hehhIHH…hehIHHntshhhoo! HehhTSHHoo!

“Bless you.”

“Thank you,” he whispered. Q was afraid that Bond was going to insist they get out of the cold and rain, but the other man stayed silent. Time seemed to come to a stop and Q couldn’t have said if they stood there for thirty minutes or three hours. Scene after scene from his life before espionage ran through his head interrupted only by an occasional sneeze or cough. When he finally spoke, he vaguely registered that his throat was hot and sore. “I wonder what she’d think if she could see me now,” Q said.

“She’d be proud of you,” Bond said. Q gave a humorless laugh.

“She’d be furious,” he said. “She was always…unconventional. A hippie in her younger days, she hated the government.” He paused and sneezed into a tissue. HehhTSCHHooo! He rubbed his throat and sniffled. “She used to love when I’d hack into something I shouldn’t.” Bond’s lips quirked when he thought of a young Q hacking government databases to the approval of an anarchist relative. Q hung his head with a heavy sigh.

“I’m proud of you,” Bond said quietly. “For whatever that’s worth.” He’d kept his eyes straight ahead, not sure he could maintain eye contact while saying it, but he felt it was something the younger man needed to hear. It was silent for a few seconds and then Q seemed to crumble. He wrapped his arms around his middle and let out a choked sob, then another, curling in on himself. James didn’t say a word, but turned and pulled Q towards him, letting him press his forehead against his shoulder. One hand kept the umbrella overtop of their heads, and the other held Q close to him. James could feel Q’s whole body trembling and resisted the urge to haul him back to the car. He was never good at this part—just being present while someone he cared about suffered. There was nothing to do. No one to hunt, or shoot, or punish. No mission but to hold one of the most brilliant people he’d ever known while he completely fell apart.

Slowly, Q began to become aware of his surroundings again. The sound of the rain came back first, followed by the feeling of Bond’s wool coat against his face. Tears kept coming but maybe a little slower than earlier. Something caught in his throat and made Q cough—a sharp, deep barking noise that made his chest hurt. He’d tried to pull back but felt himself being tugged closer and Q didn’t have an ounce of fight left in him, so he simply coughed against Bond’s coat. He was freezing and bone tired. If the blasted cough would stop he could probably fall asleep standing up.

Bond frowned as he could both hear and feel the force of Q’s cough. He held him tighter and tucked his head against his chest. Whatever Bond had thought they were walking into, this was significantly worse. Once he was sure that he was calming down, James let Q pull away and he got his handkerchief out of his pocket, giving it to the young man. Q looked a mess—his face splotchy and tear-streaked, hands shaking as he dried his eyes and nose. The moment Q opened his mouth, Bond cut him off.

“No apologies, Q.”

“Okay.” Q was glad he had the handkerchief because all the crying had seemingly doubled the congestion he was struggling with. His nose was buzzing and he rubbed it back and forth in the fabric but rather than alleviate the itch, it simply intensified.

Hehh hehsnzgshhhoo! ehhNZSSHHoo!

More coughing followed and, once finished, James could no longer abide them standing out in the rain.

“If you need more time we can come back tomorrow, but you need to get inside.”

Q just nodded and let himself be led back to the car. His head was pounding, his throat was raw, and he just wanted to sleep for the next week. James opened the passenger door and took the blanket from the floor and wrapped it around Q’s shoulders before letting the younger man get in the car. By the time Bond came around the other side of the car, Q was sound asleep.

 

TBC...

Edited January 11, 2019 by matilda3948

[AngelEyes]

This is just so heart achingly beautiful. I love your angst. It's perfectly emotional but not over the top. Totally believable. 

3 hours ago, matilda3948 said:

He had an entire clever series of excuses for how he damaged all his equipment this mission, but immediately sensed something was off and decided to attempt to be professional.

Perfect Bond.

 

3 hours ago, matilda3948 said:

“Thought you’d never ask,” Bond said with a smirk.

LOL

 

3 hours ago, matilda3948 said:

“This is why you’re not going alone.”

hh’NGTK! Ngtkshh!

“So is that.”

Love this.

 

3 hours ago, matilda3948 said:

Five hours and twelve minutes, the GPS chimed.

“Challenge accepted,” Bond said, pulling out into traffic.

LOL, Oh Bond!

 

3 hours ago, matilda3948 said:

Q closed his eyes and leaned into the fresh air. In a less worrying situation, Bond might have made a quip about him being a very intelligent labrador riding with his head out the window.

Love this image!

 

3 hours ago, matilda3948 said:

No wonder Q had been a mess; he didn’t just have to visit his aunt’s grave, but those of his entire family.

Sad!

 

3 hours ago, matilda3948 said:

Truth be told, James was relieved. He had no idea what the next words out his mouth were going to be. What could he possibly say? He stepped a few inches closer to Q so that their shoulders were very nearly touching and stayed silent. Keeping watch was a familiar task, so that’s what he did.

I really love this. Wonderfully mature side of Bond that is often overlooked, but I definitely feel is there.

 

3 hours ago, matilda3948 said:

“She used to love when I’d hack into something I shouldn’t.” Bond’s lips quirked when he thought of a young Q hacking government databases to the approval of an anarchist relative.

LOL!

 

3 hours ago, matilda3948 said:

“I’m proud of you,” Bond said quietly. “For whatever that’s worth.” He’d kept his eyes straight ahead, not sure he could maintain eye contact while saying it, but he felt it was something the younger man needed to hear.

Awww!

I can't wait to see what follows, but this was just amazing!

[Dusty15]

Ahh I have such a soft spot for lovely Q! This is great so far and very sweet ❤️ 

[caramelfuzz]

This is so wonderful!!!! There's never enough sick Q 😍

[queenie]

Oh, how sweet. I do hope there’s more where this came from. Q seems to be feeling dreadful!

[Shamaël]

Matilda you are absolutely wonderful!!! I don't know why, I've been a bit obsessed by Bond and Q recently, so I'm overjoyed to see that you started a new story about them! As hou know, I love angst, so this is exactly what I've been looking for. The beginning of the year tends to be a bit difficult for me too and writing and reading works as a catharsis for me. Your Bond is a bit more considerate and nicer than Craig is on screen, but that's why I love him so much!

Happy New Year and thanks again!

[matilda3948]

You all the best!! Thanks for the nice comments   Still fairly angsty but there's a little more humor mixed in as well.

 

 

James unlocked the door to their suite and Q immediately went to the first bed and curled up without taking off his shoes or his jacket. Bond looked around their space and then put his cosmetics in the bathroom and the rest of his overnight bag in the closet. Figuring Q would sleep for a while, he left to take a quick walk around the town and maybe hit the gym.

When Q woke up, it took him a moment to remember where he was and why. He wasn’t sure what time it was, but it was dark out and the room was only lit by a single dim lamp. Q swung his legs over the side of the bed and took a mental inventory: the nap had done him some good. He still felt like everything from his throat to his forehead was full of wet cement, but at least the headache had eased up a little. The only thing that still seemed fairly severe was the prickling, toying itch at the bridge of his nose. Sniffling wetly, he got up and rubbed his nose back and forth against the back of his hand. While making his way to the bathroom he heard the soft sound of the television coming from the sitting room. Q had never stayed in a hotel room so large or so nice before. Case in point, when he got to the bathroom he found a box of lotion-infused tissues. One glance in the mirror told Q that his nose needed all the TLC it could get. His eyes were watery, sinuses swollen, and his poor nose was red and chapped around the edges. After blowing his nose, Q could feel the beginning of a sneeze building. He sniffled and decided to just take the entire tissue box with him for when he eventually sneezed.

Bond looked up from his mobile when Q came shuffling into the sitting room. The young man had a vaguely disconnected look on his face and with his hair sticking up in every direction and a box of tissues tucked under one arm, he looked like he came straight from a cold medicine commercial.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Bond quipped.

“What time is id?” Q asked, his voice thick with congestion.

“A little after seven. We have a dinner reservation for 8 at the French restaurant around the corner. Might want to comb your hair.” Q took a few tissues from his box and pressed them to his nose, ready to sneeze at any moment. He spoke around them without missing a beat:

“So, if there’s a four star restaurant withid twenty kilometers you just sdiff it out like bloodhound?”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t understand a word you’re saying.”

Q very much wanted to respond with something witty, but his nose would not be denied any longer. He took a sudden gasp and his head ducked into the fistful of waiting tissues.

Hehh ehhNZSSHHoo! hehsnzgshhhoo! EhhGNSHHooo!

“Bless you.”

“Thaahhh…hah ehh Ehh!” The tickle disappeared and he groaned in frustration. “Thag you.” He blew his nose and was able to breathe a little easier for the moment but the levity of their earlier conversation was gone. Bond’s eyes narrowed slightly as he watched Q. “What?” he asked.

“How are you doing?” Bond asked. Q shrugged.

“I’m okay. Feel like I constantly have to sneeze, but my head doesn’t hurt as much as it did earlier.” Q suspected Bond was asking about more than just his physical health and he wasn’t eager to discuss it, so he added: “I’m hungry. I should clean up so we can go.”

James smirked as Q successfully ducked half of his question; he supposed he could let him win that round.

The next round came when they sat down to dinner. Bond immediately ordered an expensive bottle of champagne.

“I don’t drink,” Q said.

“Seriously?” he asked as though Q had just told him he didn’t imbibe in oxygen. “Well you do tonight,” James said, nodding to the sommelier to open the bottle. Q watched the stream of bubbles surging from the bottom of the glass and then glanced at Bond. The older man raised his glass. “A toast to your aunt,” he said. Q swallowed the sudden lump in his throat and raised his glass as well. After clearing his throat, he finally managed a few words.

“Um…to my aunt Margaret, a woman of great conviction and tremendous kindness. She…” his voice trailed off and his jaw trembled slightly. Bond clinked his glass to Q’s.

“Cheers,” he said. Q nodded gratefully and took a sip of champagne. It was sweet but balanced with a crisp tart flavor. The bubbles made it light and refreshing and he felt it fizz in the back of his throat.

“I have to admit, that’s rather good,” he said, going back for a second sip. This time he felt the bubbles in his nose and sniffed several times in quick succession. Realizing what was about to happen, he grabbed his napkin off his lap and pinched his nose.

hehNGKtsh! GNKtshh! hehNKTsh! KTshh!

James rolled his eyes and topped off Q’s glass.

“Forgive me,” Q sniffled. His breath hitched again and he pressed a curled finger against his septum. He pushed his chair back from the table. More sneezes were imminent and he suspected they wouldn’t be so easily subdued. “Excuse me,” he said a bit breathlessly making his way towards the restroom. The door had barely closed when Q sneezed violently into cupped hands.

hehIhhNGSHHoo! HehNTSSHHoo! EhhNGtshhoo! ehnK’TSHHOO!

He shook his head and to try and clear the irritation and took a few paper towels to blow his nose before taking a few experimental sniffs to see if he was done. Seemed like it for now. He washed his hands and came back to the table to find the first course had already been served.

“I got tired of waiting,” Bond said.

“Culinary taste of an adult, patience of a toddler,” Q said, reaching for his champagne.

They ate slowly, making small talk or simply enjoying the quiet ambiance of the restaurant. Every now and then Q would notice Bond looking at him with an unreadable expression. It didn’t take long though before Q put it together.

“You have questions,” Q said. He supposed that was reasonable. He’d offered all of two sentences of explanation about his family despite Bond dropping everything and accompanying him. James leaned back in his chair.

“I do, but you don’t have to answer them,” he said.

“A little information isn’t too much to ask,” Q said, fidgeting with his fork.

“Q, you’re not a suspect and this isn’t an interrogation, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious.”

“Why did you come with me?” Q asked. It was a question that had been nagging at him all day and he felt like he needed to know the answer before sharing anything more about his past. In an uncharacteristic moment of understanding, Bond knew this was a test: a quid pro quo bit of honesty.

“Our line of work doesn’t allow for much in the way of trust or connection with other people,” James began. “But from our first meeting I knew you were different. Your motives were clean: help your agents, fight for your country. You’re a good man working in a world where there are few good men.” Bond paused and took a drink. He wasn’t accustomed to this sort of discussion and he was feeling a little uncomfortable. Perhaps it was best to just cut right to the chase. “I count you as a friend, Q,” he said. “And I may not have a lot of experience with friendship, but I know you don’t let a friend face what you had to face today alone.”

They sat in total silence for a few minutes.

“I’m going to need dessert,” Q said.

Armed with Tiramisu, apple tart, and a second bottle of champagne, Q slowly told Bond the story of how he was drafted into MI6.

“I was on an international watchlist at 14 for hacking NATO’s missile defense system.”

“You hacked NATO when you were 14?” Bond asked incredulously.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I hacked it when I was 12. It took them two years to trace it back to me.” Q paused and coughed into the bend of his arm. His throat was scratchy and his voice was feeling strained. Bond raised an eyebrow but Q waved off his concern. “I was acting out after my mother’s death. My aunt stepped in and helped keep me from going too far.” Q’s eyes took on a distant look. “The car accident was bad. I almost didn’t make it. When I regained consciousness the doctors told me I’d been in a coma for almost a month. I’d…I’d missed the funerals…”

Bond was silent until enough time had passed that he was afraid Q was getting lost in his own head. He reached across the table and tapped his fingers on the tabletop until the other man looked up. Q blushed and cleared his throat.

“Sorry. I haven’t talked about it in a long time.”

“I told you—no apologies,” James said. “And not an interrogation.”

“Right.” Q polished off his latest glass of champagne. He sniffled and rubbed his nose in his napkin. “Long story short: the next day an MI6 agent arrived with an offer to come work for them. They would fake my death, move me to a private hospital to finish my recovery, and then I could start my new life. Seemed like the best I could hope for. I agreed and two hours later they notified my aunt I’d taken a turn for the worse.”

James felt a surge of anger at the callous way Q had been treated despite knowing that it was simply the way things were done. Q rubbed his nose against the back of his hand trying to quell an itch that just kept coming back. In fact, he felt like he had a stray hair tickling the underside of his nose and his forehead and his eyebrows.

“So,” he said with a sigh. “That’s the beginning of my esteemed career in espionage,” he said. “In fact, let’s toast my esteemed career in espionage.” Q poured another glass of champagne and let out a noise that sounded almost like a giggle.

"Are you drunk?" Bond asked.

"I told you, I don't drink. Of course I'm drunk."

"It's not like you were throwing back shots; it was champagne."

"I also took two doses of cold medicine before we left" Q said, despite holding up three fingers to illustrate his point.

"Why did you—"

"Because I was disgusting and didn't want to sneeze through our entire meal. And I didn't realize that I was going to like that so much," he said, pointing to the empty bottle. "But I did like it. A lot."

"Obviously." Of course. He hadn't factored cold medicine into his equation when plying Q with alcohol. He'd simply wanted to loosen his tongue a little. Well, he was certainly loose. “Maybe we should get you back to the hotel.” This time Q did giggle.

“James Bond wants to take me back to his hotel,” he laughed. Bond rolled his eyes and signaled for their check. “M’nose itches,” Q mumbled, rubbing his nose back and forth. He held his napkin a few inches from his face and sniffled, screwing his eyes up to the ceiling.

ehh HehKTshhh! ehhNKtshh! hehhNGshhh!

“Bless you,” Bond said.

“Thag you. I am so tired of sneezing. It’s been relentless the last week.”

“I thought you said you’ve only been feeling bad the last couple days,” Bond said, getting up from the table.

“I lied,” Q said, sounding somewhat pleased with himself. Bond smirked and motioned towards the restaurant’s exit. When Q stood up he felt a little dizzy and gripped the back of his chair.

“You are such a lightweight,” Bond said, placing a hand in the middle of Q’s back and guiding him towards the door and out into the cold night air.

“Hold on. Gottahh…ahh Ehh snehhh Ehhh…”

“Yeah. Got it. Here.” Bond handed him a handkerchief. Q stood on the sidewalk and waited—apparently unable too inebriated to walk and prepare to sneeze at the same time.

Ehh…Hehh ehhNZSSHHoo! hehsnzgshhhoo! EhhGNSHHooo!

“Bless you, Q.”

“Thags. I’b so gross. All drippy and—”

“So you’re a chatty drunk, then,” Bond said. “How fun.”

“As opposed to a moody, sleep with anything with a pulse drunk?”

That earned him an honest to God laugh from Bond. Q joined in and was still laughing when they entered the hotel and stepped into the lift. When they got to their room he’d calmed down and yawned widely. It had been a long day and, despite taking a nap, Q was tired. James went and turned the shower on and then got Q a bottle of water.

“Drink this and then take a shower. It’ll do you good.”

Forty minutes later a freshly washed Q shuffled out of the steamy bathroom. The flannel pajamas he was wearing made him look even younger than he actually was. He had a fistful of tissues in one hand and he sat down on the edge of his bed with a congested sigh.

“Looks like both your buzz and your cold medicine are starting to wear off,” Bond said.

“Indeed.”

James observed Q’s body language. His shoulders were slumped, no longer in relaxation but in resignation and grief. He wasn’t dumb enough to think that one meal and a few drinks would magically fix everything, but he was hoping Q might hold on to that levity a little bit longer. As he made his way over to sit next to Q, Bond wondered if maybe he should have had more to drink. Q held a tissue to his nose and angled his body away from Bond.

Heh ehh…heh ehhGNSHHHoo! NGSCHHHooo!

“Bless you,” Bond said. He touched a few fingers to the back on Q’s neck to see if he was feverish and was glad to see that he wasn’t. But he was a little surprised when Q pulled away from him. “What’s wrong?” he asked. Q’s voice was shaking when he answered.

“I’m sorry. I’m um… I’m…” He sighed and rubbed hard at his eyes. “I’m going to start crying again.”

“Okay?” He tried not to make it sound like a question, but he didn’t really see the problem. However, when Q turned further away from him he realized that the younger man was embarrassed. Bond bit back the urge to tell him he was being stupid. Not the time, a voice said in the back of his head. That same voice told him what he needed to do next. He reached around and turned Q towards him, pulling him into a tight hug. “Stop being ridiculous,” he said into Q’s ear. “Of course you’re going to cry.” In a way, Bond almost preferred the intense outburst like the one at the graveyard. There was something sadder, more mournful about these slow, steady tears. After Q stopped crying he straightened up and blew his nose. He felt Bond’s strong hand on the side of his face and opened his eyes to find the older man looking at him with a look Q couldn’t quite catalog, despite seeing it multiple times over the course of the day. “What can I do?” Bond asked. Q sniffled and cleared his throat—the congestion was back in full force.

“Dothing.” He coughed into his fist. “Nothing. You’ve…you’ve been…wonderful actually.”

“No need to sound so surprised about it.”

Q was about to apologize when he realized Bond was joking.

“Thank you for everything today. You were right—it would have been a mistake to come here alone.”

“I am very smart,” Bond said with a smirk.

“Well, I hope you don’t think that your extensive help has earned you the right to destroy the equipment I give you on your next mission.”

“Of course not. I promise to exercise the same amount of care I always use.”

“So none, in other words.”

“I like to think I take care of the things that matter,” Bond said. Q looked down at his hands, embarrassed by the implication. Both men were well over their capacity for emotional conversations, so Bond got up and dug through the bag of cold supplies he’d bought earlier that morning, looking for the medicine that contained a sleeping agent.

heh Hehh…hehhIHH…hehIHHntshhhoo! HehhTSHHoo!

“Bless you,” he called over his shoulder.

ehh HehKTshhh! ehhNKtshh! hehhNGshhh!

“You’re seeing a doctor tomorrow when we get back to London.”

Heh EhhKitshhhoo! hh’TSHHooo! “I don’t ne—ehh…need a huhh HehhTSCHHooo! Ktsschhhoo! Ugh. Okay, fide.”

[AngelEyes]

This is totally wonderful. Sad to see it end, but what a beautiful ending!

3 hours ago, matilda3948 said:

The young man had a vaguely disconnected look on his face and with his hair sticking up in every direction and a box of tissues tucked under one arm, he looked like he came straight from a cold medicine commercial.

Absolutely love this image!

 

3 hours ago, matilda3948 said:

“Culinary taste of an adult, patience of a toddler,” Q said, reaching for his champagne.

LOL. Too true!

 

4 hours ago, matilda3948 said:

“Our line of work doesn’t allow for much in the way of trust or connection with other people,” James began. “But from our first meeting I knew you were different. Your motives were clean: help your agents, fight for your country. You’re a good man working in a world where there are few good men.” Bond paused and took a drink. He wasn’t accustomed to this sort of discussion and he was feeling a little uncomfortable. Perhaps it was best to just cut right to the chase. “I count you as a friend, Q,” he said. “And I may not have a lot of experience with friendship, but I know you don’t let a friend face what you had to face today alone.”

Awwww!!!

 

4 hours ago, matilda3948 said:

“Don’t be ridiculous. I hacked it when I was 12. It took them two years to trace it back to me.”

LOL, go Q!

 

4 hours ago, matilda3948 said:

"Are you drunk?" Bond asked.

"I told you, I don't drink. Of course I'm drunk."

LOL

 

4 hours ago, matilda3948 said:

“James Bond wants to take me back to his hotel,” he laughed.

I love drunk!Q, lol.

 

4 hours ago, matilda3948 said:

“So you’re a chatty drunk, then,” Bond said. “How fun.”

“As opposed to a moody, sleep with anything with a pulse drunk?”

Perfect!

 

4 hours ago, matilda3948 said:

Heh EhhKitshhhoo! hh’TSHHooo! “I don’t ne—ehh…need a huhh HehhTSCHHooo! Ktsschhhoo! Ugh. Okay, fide.”

Love his attempt at denial and almost instant giving in. Adorable!

[doggo]

THIS!!!! IS SO FRIGGING ADORABLE!!!! GAhhhhh can't take it!! 

[Shamaël]

YOU are the best. Now Q's family background has just become my headcanon as well.

19 hours ago, matilda3948 said:

“I don’t drink,” Q said.

“Seriously?” he asked as though Q had just told him he didn’t imbibe in oxygen.

Angst + humor = perfect combination!

19 hours ago, matilda3948 said:

“Our line of work doesn’t allow for much in the way of trust or connection with other people,” James began. “But from our first meeting I knew you were different. Your motives were clean: help your agents, fight for your country. You’re a good man working in a world where there are few good men.” Bond paused and took a drink. He wasn’t accustomed to this sort of discussion and he was feeling a little uncomfortable. Perhaps it was best to just cut right to the chase. “I count you as a friend, Q,” he said. “And I may not have a lot of experience with friendship, but I know you don’t let a friend face what you had to face today alone.”

I had to quote that part because awwww it's so sweet! I know I've already said it, but I love the fact that your Bond is more thoughtful and less harsh than in the movies.

19 hours ago, matilda3948 said:

“You hacked NATO when you were 14?” Bond asked incredulously.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I hacked it when I was 12. It took them two years to trace it back to me.”

Mwahahahaha. What I like with Q, it's his modesty.

19 hours ago, matilda3948 said:

“James Bond wants to take me back to his hotel,” he laughed.

... ... ... And here I laughed too. Oh Q you're completely ridiculous when drunk! I love it!

An amazing ending for an amazing story! Thank you!

[fickle_tickle]

I'm in love with this! It's so well written and in character from what little I've seen of Bond and poor little Q in the movies! The young Q is super cute in cannon, and even more so here!! 😍

[AntheaHolmes]

This was amazing. The chemistry between 007 and Q is adorable to say the least. The sneezing was great. Would love to read more.