"This test has two possible answers. Both are right. But there's only one correct explanation."

There are two sorts of people out there on the streets. Those who know and those who learn.
One of them is from the stupid kind and one of them isn't.

When the alarm rang through the apartment, it was past eight.
The agent has made his way out hours ago.
But the quatermaster wasn't as much of a morning person as his temporary flatmate.

Draped across the sofa, he lifted a hand to search for his glasses.
On the tips of his fingers he felt a cold plastic frame, but when he reached out for it, it fell off the table.
So he finally managed to get up and look for them.

Even though it was still dark in the first place, he found them on the floor. Luckily they were still a whole.

"That's what I expected from you...", he murmured to himself in the empty room, "... you were a great inventor, predecessor."

Q couldn't help but smiling a little as he looked down on the unharmed pair of glasses. Even though they seemed so blurry in his eyes. He knew they would never fail him like his eyes did so very often. At least, they were the only thing he ever saw of his title predecessor. All he knew about him were stories.
Stories about him being a great inventor. Stories about the great help in 007s missions. The literally big footprints the new Q just stepped into a short while ago, were they a blessing? Or his heaviest burden?

He managed to walk over to one of the windows which were still covered by heavy dark brown night curtains and pulled them aside. So far he didn't know it was already that bright in the outer world. Neither did he know what was this heavy ponding on his head. It was an invisible, yet hurting pain.
"Ugh.", he muttured and closed the curtains in an instant.

And while he dragged himself to the kitchen to get a cup of breakfast tea, the memories forced themselves back into his mind. With the painful throbbing of every heartbeat they agonized the insides of his head like a never-ending torture.

First, they seemed as blurred as his sight, but it wasn't hard for someone like him to put them in the correct order. And as longer he thought as clearer they got.

"Don't tell me you never tried it?"

Q looked down to their feet, blushing.

"Really?!", the man in the suit laughed, then he handed him a glass, "At least you are old enough, aren't you?"

Qs hands were shaking as they covered the perfect, clean surface of it. And he could hear the ice crashing inside of it, when the agent poured the scotch. Time passed and all he did was watching the ice melt. He never had the need to try it before. But this time it was different. It wasn't from rivalry, nor from the pain the last mission has caused him, but for the other man he did it. For Bond to respect him. He looked up to the agend who pierced him with the unchangeable stare of his skyblue eyes. He knew Q would do it. If not for him then out of curiousity.

The glasses and bottles clattered this night. Scotch and Martini and Cigarretes.
- But not for the two of them.

"Ugh, what is this? - Poison?", the quartermaster caughed out after a single sip of it.
"It's because of the melted ice cubes. They ruined the taste."

Q looked up at him in disbelief, wiping off scotch and salvia from his chin.
"It's gross.", he murmured ashamed.
He fished ten pounds out of his wallet and left them on the bar table. Then he turned around to leave.
Bond let out a sigh and turned back to his glass with a sad expression. All he wanted to do was spending some time with his new colleague.

He remembered Q not being much of a extrovert, nor a social person. Most of the time, he spent in front of his laptop. Most of the time he was typing, doing researches, solving quizzes. Be it at the MI6 or be it home.
When Bond came back from death, they tried to share that place for a while. It was safer for both of them not to sleep in a hotel. Plus the two of them had some contact to each another.
First, it was far away from comfortable to share a one-bedroom-apartment. Bond got distracted of Qs sleeping habits, who never went to bed before 4 am, while Q got distracted by Bonds morning habits. Such as getting up at 6am.

But then, something happened. Something changed the situation from unconfortable to cozy.