Q scratched his cheek and paused—he had oil on his fingers. He sighed, but didn't move to wipe it off. He was alone in the lab, like most days, and the chances of anyone dropping by in the middle of the night were slim.
He should’ve gone home hours ago, but the prospect of being faced with familiar dull walls and a silence broken only by the few meows of his cats wasn’t enticing. The downpour of rain and perpetually gray skies had put his cats into an almost hibernating state these past few days. His habit of playing with them before bed was put on hold, but he didn’t blame the cats—he understood, the past few days had been rough on him too.
Although it may have seemed it, Q wasn't a fanatic at his job. He appreciated the stability and various opportunities it provided him with, but he preferred to leave it behind once his shift was over.
He noticed midnight passing a few minutes ago, the clock one of the few sounds in his lab. He should've gone home, but his mind would be able to wander there, towards things that would only bring more pain. He’d had enough of sleepless nights leaving him more exhausted than when he’d laid down.
In the lab, he could at least be productive.
Q pulled the mechanism further apart. Being productive was a great thing while working for MI6, as it divided the few outstanding employees from the masses. It should've been a good thing to have those employees rewarded with new opportunities, right?
Even when it meant taking them away.
Q tossed the screwdriver onto the desk with a clank. His chest hurt again. He couldn't be free from those thoughts even in his own lab.
He leaned over his desk, forehead resting on his crossed arms. The main principles of working at a place like this had always seemed so simple to him. Do your job. Keep your eyes and ears open. Don't get attached to anyone.
He had failed, rather spectacularly, at the last point.
The elevator doors opened with a ding that echoed sharply in the silent lab. Q wiped his face vigorously, trying to wipe away any sign of what had been bothering him. The last thing he needed was questions he didn't want answered.
Q froze when he noticed it was you who entered. His eyes jumped to the bruises and cuts on your face. Only then did he notice a cake in your hands.
“You look like shit,” you said, nodding to the grayish smudges on his face.
“Have you looked in a mirror recently?” Q raised his eyebrows. “Did you get run over by a truck?”
“A taxi.”
“Should've called an Uber.”
“I'll be smarter next time. Care to join me?”
Q followed you to a cozy corner behind the shelves where the two of you had hidden a few chairs and a set of colorful lights over the last couple of years. Somehow, it turned into storage for all the things you might need while avoiding responsibilities during your breaks. It was better than going back to the more official part of the building.
Q sat down next to you, wondering how many of those trinkets you'd take with you after your promotion.
The cake looked pretty, although a little beaten down. He wondered where you got it in the middle of the night. Last he checked, bakeries in the area closed during the evening.
He took the offered fork.
"This place is going to feel emptier without you. When are you leaving?"
"Technically my plane is in a few hours, since we've already crossed midnight."
"A shame. Good choice for breakfast, though." Q made a small salute with the fork.
"I'm a genius, I know. Whatever will you do without me?"
"Probably finish my projects faster, since there won't be anyone breaking the test versions."
You gasped dramatically. "How rude, my dearest Quartermaster! I was only making sure they would adapt to field conditions."
“Just like your face did? Those are going to be some magnificent bruises by the time you get to the airport. You will surely make a grand entrance.”
You shrugged, leaning back in your armchair. It creaked loudly, always one wrong move away from completely breaking down, but you got used to it so much it felt like the most comfortable place in the world. For many years it was, after all.
The cake was half gone, but you barely tasted it. Q seemed too engrossed by whatever thoughts made his brows furrow to notice all the crumbles landing on his vest. He made quick progress on the cheap cake, despite it not being up to his usual tastes. It's a strange thing, how much you can learn about a person throughout a few short years, starting with the way they leave for home and ending in their favorite flavors of cake.
“I'm sure they would've been charmed by my endless grace and wit, but they will have to live the rest of their sorry lives without it.”
It took Q a while before he turned to face you, almost choking on the fork. “Am I missing something?”
You chuckled, stealing the last bite of cake. Somehow, it tasted better than the rest.
"You'd miss me a lot if I took that position, so I've decided to stay. For someone so intelligent, you really are dumb sometimes, my dear Quartermaster."
Q looked at the empty box and at the fork. For the first time in the last few weeks, his head was positively, completely empty.
"You're such an asshole," finally came out of his mouth.
"I know."
"I hope another taxi uses your face as a parking lot."
"I'm sure you'd make a video out of—"
Q's hand found the side of your face, wrapping gently around your cheek and smearing oil over it. But it was only a fleeting concern, and was soon gone when he pulled you close and firmly put his lips against yours.
Once he pulled back, Q took in your dazed expression with a satisfied smile. “Glad to have you back, agent.”
There was this novel I wrote back in 2004/05 that was structured after a Bond Movie, and it burned me out on Bond movies (and ultimately movies in general), but I drew up this flow chart of the opening sequence of a generic Bond movie (pre-Daniel Craig). They spend 20-50% of the entire budget on this one sequence, every time, and there's roughly how it goes (about 80% of the time).
Has anyone checked on Bill? As in Bill Tanner? The man who has to deal with nonstop bullshit from everyone’s favorite or least favorite, depends who you ask double-O? As in the man, the myth, the legend, who laughs at all of Q’s jokes? As in the poor guy who had to see and hear James Bond and Q pining for each other? Someone needs to check in on my favorite guy
Dedicated to @crewman-penelope who encouraged this idea <3 and of course all the people who liked that early post, thanks!
-------------------- 𐫱 --------------------
You heard distant music at the end of the hallway. You knew Safin used to play music to stimulate his plants, he treated them like his children and it showed in the vibrant color of each leaf that was born under the warm sun that caressed his garden every day.
Usually it was classical music but this time the theme was very different. Paying attention to certain lyrics you recognized a song from the 40's, you used to let it play in the background to better concentrate on your studies in the lab when the task was especially difficult and it didn't escape your attention when you heard it playing over the loudspeakers in the garden.
"I don't want to set the world on fire."
"I just want to start..a flame in your heart."
Without thinking you approached, still without descending the large steps but visible enough so the one who cared for his beloved plants would recognize your presence among the guards surrounding the area. He was arranging the leaves of one of his poisonous ones, it was taller than him and you were surprised how close he was without being afraid its roots would touch his face without any protection. You couldn't really argue with him since you knew much less than he did about botany so you let the warning you were about to exclaim aloud get stuck in your throat.
"I see you, come here." He said snapping you out of your trance.
You weren't sure about entering much less without protection of any kind but even before you could get up any courage to leave Lyutsifer made an appearance in front of you extending one of his hands once his gloves were discarded on the way. You didn't doubt him so now you were guided into the center of the garden by his warm hand.
"Dance with me."
He was a man of few words concise with his actions and thoughts his presence was the one that most communicated his way of imparting and directing others but something else was hidden, something that enchanted the moment you had him in front of you and you knew it because despite the fear he could instill in the lives of others no one was working for obligation in that place, he was a person who could easily guide you to the deepest rings of hell without you realizing it until you were on your knees in the mud, sinking.
You took his hand and he took yours, placed the remaining one on your back as you held his shoulder. You had danced this way before but with Lyutsifer you felt the nerves of an inexpert dumbass to make any mistake. He however placed his forehead against yours the moment you lowered your head and looked down at your feet not knowing what to do, nerves was not the feeling that could describe the closeness with that man, it was pure vertigo.
"Do not be afraid, I will guide you."
"I know how to dance.." You finally had the courage to speak in a soft voice, raising your face barely brushing the tip of your nose with Safin's.
His lips formed a small smile more like a thin curve that left an unsure feeling in your stomach not knowing if it was a genuine gesture of happiness or if he was uncovering your thoughts.
Another song began to play and your movements followed his, it was a slow waltz but very fluid. Your mind was focused on looking at a fixed point other than his eyes, those penetrating eyes that from the minute he saw you arrive never took off from your being as if you were a specimen worthy of admiration, the most beautiful plant in the place did not compare to how intense his gaze was on you and you knew that if you looked up you would feel things at the moment were hard to admit.
You were not only alert of his gaze but also the numerous natural species surrounding your body, Safin had taken you in the lightness of his dance to an area where his garden bloomed with such colors and shades never seen before, a peculiar kind of flower with an intense reddish at the base that ended in a white gradient kept your attention and if anything you could affirm that was engraved like fire in your memory was the moment he told you, "The most striking flowers are the most dangerous."
You felt your heart stop in your chest as one of these plants caressed your leg when you passed by, for inertia you attached your body towards Lyutsifer's looking for safety he instead seemed to hold a low chuckle as he caressed your lower back.
"Its poison has no effect unless with your bare skin."
Even as he said it you were not reassured to accidentally brush against any of the surrounding leaves again and the further away you were from them more attached your body was to Lyutsifer who didn't seem uneasy having your face against his shoulder.
"I would never kill you, not right now darling. I would die along in your arms if that happend."
Those words made you look up finding a confident look in what he was saying, minutes before you were frozen with fear now your pulse was racing so fast that you could barely concentrate on your steps because of your nerves. Safin was not a lying person if there was anyone more honest in this world you would love to meet them because didn't fit in your head that anyone was more honest than him and those words sounded like pure truth, an intense declaration of something you didn't expect to be mutual.
With his body he guided you to another area of the garden, with a gentle gesture he leaned your body back for you to trust into his arms the classic position of a dancing couple where you let yourself fall, without hesitation you put all your weight on him who leaned you until your face was under another very beautiful flower.
"Go on, smell it."
And you did, that was the richest perfume ever entered your system that flower possessed a sweetness mixed with an intense itch that didn't quite burn your nose but left it tingling as Safin took you up again, standing face to face he waited for your response.
"I really liked that flower."
"It always reminds me of you."
Your gesture of confusion was enough to elicit a brief chuckle this time.
"Sweet with a mysterious itch that's hard to spot the first time."
"And it's poisonous?"
"Not if treated with care."
There at those words you understood something, maybe he knew more about you than you thought. You also understood that not only was your interest so obvious but that he himself from afar had noticed it and was waiting for the right moment to reveal he felt the same.
There into a poisonous garden continued this deadly dance among the reeds, you lost track of how long you danced with him that day it was very easy to get lost in the calmness of his voice when he spoke, you calmed yourself with the vibrations of his chest were you rested your head closing your eyes. Having confessed those things nothing else mattered around, you just wanted to share moments like this because now your heart was truly intoxicated with fervor by his presence.
James Bond. Unsurprisingly, another one of my hate obsessions. I know an absolutely unreal amount of Bond trivia for someone who hates the films. But I’ve formed a sort of Stockholm Syndrome about them, and part of that revolves around my obsession with how I’d make them good (or just personally appealing to me as a piece of cinema).
LET’S GO.
So, back in the 60s-maybe 70s if we’re pushing it (because I know Roger Moore is an icon - HE NAMED GEORGE LAZENBY AS A TOP THREE BOND, LOOK, I GIVE HIM MY RESPECT FOR THAT AT LEAST), James Bond is called to tackle another villain who’s built a mysterious machine believed to be a superweapon MI6 isn’t totally sure about yet. A mixture of recon and destruction.
Bond fights the villain, he’s about to win, but Villain (nameless cos I’m lazy) activates the machine. 007 is officially pronounced missing.
Flash forward to the modern day.
A man turns up at MI6 headquarters, demanding to see M. He says he has important information for him, and claims to be ‘007’ - a sign that definitely doesn’t belong to him. They look the man up, probably to send him home, but they can’t find a single thing about him ANYWHERE.
The documents on Bond, and what he was fighting against, have all been super duper sealed, and everyone in his MI6 died and took the knowledge with them. He’s been wiped from history, pretty much. We’re a good nation at hiding things. So while MI6 work to unseal old documents, they reluctantly assign Bond to the mission of taking down Villain, who has also mysteriously reappeared and is being a massive Pain In The Arse.
(The machine in question somehow freezes the two in stasis; the level of threat posed to the world and villain’s motivation? You decide.)
Cue average time-travel comedy beats (mostly contributed by my friend who I bounced this idea off of).
“Wow, Q! You’ve really outdone yourself! What is this astonishing machine!?”
“Bond, this is an iPhone.”
Can:
Kill anyone within a mile radius
Speak several languages fluently
Fiddle with specialised equipment
Fly a jetpack
Can’t:
Coffee machine
“You’re telling me you disarmed a nuclear rocket and you need help because you changed your phone’s language to Japanese and can’t change it back.”
“THE ROCKET DIDN’T HAVE TOUCH-SCREEN.”
Bond still operates on what was considered ‘inconspicuous’ in 1969 and shows up to an undercover op in full florals and flares.
“You said it was a party. I’m just trying to blend in!”
M is going to be losing her mind. Q might die of frustration. It would be glorious. Lean into the weird family dynamic MI6 has in older Bond movies. Hell, no romance. Just 2 hours of “What do you mean, ‘CPR’?”
I did not expect Moriarty the Patriot to have so many James Bond references, but I'm absolutely delighted by it.
For instance, in the fifth chapter, when William talks with Blitz Enders, he explains that his brother is working for a company called Universal Trade, even though we know that Albert is now the head of a newly-formed hidden government agency called the MI6.
Well, it turns out that, in the James Bond movies, the agent's Secret Intelligence Service known as MI6 is concealed to the public eye and disguised as a company called "Universal Exports".
I don't think it can count as just a nod to James Bond at this point, but it's so funny to notice the little details!!!
TW: discussion of threats of sexual assault/rape, rape, and physical assault
Rant time! So I just got finished reading a fanfic where the MC got threatened with sexual assault, and when they refused to be raped, got beaten up (due to Reasons, no rape actually occurred). Now, when the Love Interest learns about this, they end up kissing (which then transitions into making out) the MC in an effort to comfort them, and for some reason, it works. The MC calms down and wow! It turns out both the MC and the Love Interest have liked each other for a while and this is the perfect moment to discover this! My guys, in what world would this 1. Be an acceptable response to learning your crush almost got sexually assaulted and 2. End in anything other than (at best) the Love Interest getting slapped/pushed away or (at worst) the MC silently letting it happen while someone they trusted reaffirms that their comfort and happiness is not the priority? And this isn’t even the first fanfic I’ve read where this or something similar happens. In fact, this isn’t even the first piece of media I’ve ever seen that has similar themes or messages? It happens in fanfics, YA novels, James Bond movies (according to my mom, who expressed a similar grievance when she told me about the only James Bond movie she’s ever seen), and probably almost all romance adjacent types of media (not that every piece of romance media has this in every single thing, but if a type of media has a romance genre, then some of those probably have this in it). Why? Seriously, why does this happen so frequently? (Idk how frequently it actually happens, I could be experiencing some Confirmation Bias, but the fact that it happens at all is gross). Has anyone else experienced this same frustration? Idk it just made me mad and I had to get it out of my system