|Tales of The 00Q Variety
Author: Batmobiled PM
A collection of 00Q drabbles. 00QRated: Fiction T - English - Romance/Humor - James Bond/007 & Q 1 - Chapters: 9 - Words: 7,476 - Reviews: 17 - Favs: 10 - Follows: 16 - Updated: 01-30-13 - Published: 01-19-13 - id: 8924264
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
This is a collection of drabbles based on prompts I received on Tumblr.
Hope you enjoy!
Prompt : 00q and and a little bit homophobic reaction other people. Thanks 3
It's whispered to him in the halls of MI6, a place where his intellect and ingenuity had always been the only thing anyone had ever cared to mention. He whips his head around to catch the perpetrator, half-hoping to have had imagined it entirely in his head. But there, down the hall, are two figures walking in the direction of the cafeteria. They are laughing in an altogether too predatory way, so Q keeps walking with his head lowered to stare at a point only slightly above his feet.
"Faggot" he whispers to himself, as if repeating the word aloud to himself will somehow banish it altogether from his troubled mind. As if repeating a curse could somehow lift it from him.
It wasn't as if he'd never been bullied before, his formative years had been spent in near-constant torment. However, they had merely been ignorant, weak minded children attacking the easiest target which just so happened to be a little boy who's glasses were always a little too large for his face, one who had always preferred sitting inside taking apart and putting back computers than playing football.
The word itself was still new to him, he'd graduated far past his peers before they could even fathom to question what sexuality was.
He puzzled over the word, rolling it over in his mind, as if to examine every possible meaning and curvature of its structure. It sat in his mind as if it were somehow a complex code he could analyze and take apart, as if doing so could make it unlock hidden depths. The word refused to cooperate, instead obstinately refusing to reveal anything of any merit.
He found himself in front of his section, the familiar bulletproof glass the only barrier between him and his second home. His department was a place completely his own, the furnishings and equipment all handpicked especially by him to his exact specifications. He normally strides in with at least a hundred different problems in his head, barking orders to his underlings. But today he simply walks in noiselessly, and takes a quiet seat at his desk. His minions are confused, unused to this silent quartermaster they stare at him with trepidation. He doesn't notice.
He simply gets to work putting the finishing touches on a new weapon for an agent. He'd had Bond in mind when he'd created it. The small pen casing housed up to 20 micro explosives, able to be detonated remotely at the command of the agent holding it. It was Bond's bloody exploding pen. He smiled to himself.
At that exact moment, the agent in question ambled in with his usual charismatic smile. Sighting his quartermaster, he walked up and sat right on his desk on top of numerous papers with a practiced ease.
"Hello Q," he says looking at the object was tinkering with in his hands "is that for me?" he looks at Q with a slightly muted version of an expression that would not look out of place on a child on Christmas morning. A chuckle rumbles through him "Exploding pen?" he notes with the memory of their first meeting lingering in his thoughts.
Then Bond notes the expression on Q's face for the first time since he had walked in, a completely preoccupied and altogether unusual look to his features.
"Do you think I'm a fag?" Q asks with no intonation except the casual lilt of the question.
Bond freezes and looks to Q with a dangerous expression, one that shows exactly how lethal he is.
"Who called you that?" he asks with poison lacing each syllable, the promise of retribution in the clenching of his fists.
"I don't know," Q says honestly "I only saw their backs…" by that point he had abandoned all pretense of working on the gadget and was instead staring up at Bond with an inquisitive look.
Bond silently swears to himself that he will find those men, and he will hurt them. But for now, he had a distressed Quartermaster to attend to.
"Those people were small minded idiots, as you are already probably aware." Without really thinking about it, Bond put a hand on Q's shoulder since his training and charm seemed to have failed him and he had no idea what to say. He went for honesty, "They were wrong."
"Not really," said Q with something resembling his normal smarmy tone "I'm just attempting to process why they think it's some sort of insult. My boyfriend is much more attractive than their ugly little girlfriends any day…"
Bond was surprised at first then burst into laughter at Q's offhand comment. He leaned down and kissed Q with a smile on his lips.
"Why yes, yes I am." He said with a soft look in his eyes that only Q seemed to be able to achieve. "Though it isn't like you to stroke my ego." He runs a hand through Q's hair.
"Yeah, yeah." Q says waving him off but he's smiling as he goes back to his computer.
Bond kisses the top of his head once more before walking out to report for his next mission.
And if anyone noticed that two rather new recruits to MI6 had somehow landed themselves in the hospital, then no-one mentioned it.