[Fic] this wasn't in the job description
Fandom: James Bond
Characters: James Bond, Q, Gareth Mallory, Eve Moneypenny, Bill Tanner
Pairing: None
Rating: G
Word count: c.850
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: Characters are not mine.
A/N: For the trope bingo prompt "au: magic".
***
Half the paperwork on M’s desk consists of increasingly hysterical complaints from every department in MI6 about how James Bond is an unstable pyromaniac, because everywhere he goes he seems to destroy something.
What M mostly gains from the piles of complaints that grow bigger as he watches is that Bond seems to be quite fond of their new quartermaster, since Q Branch is where most of the complaints come from. He also determines that Bond is definitely lying when he says that he can’t help it, because he’s perfectly controlled when on a mission, and takes great delight in setting Q’s things on fire.
Q storms into M’s office one afternoon, smelling slightly singed, and M sighs. Eve has a soft spot for the boy and tends to let him in even though what M really wants is to just be left alone so he can think about why this wasn’t in the job description, and then possibly find a spell that will make every complaint that flies onto his desk turn into butterflies.
Then he remembers the terrible giant insect incident a few weeks ago, and decides against it.
“He set my chair on fire,” Q says, furiously. A few of M’s things float an inch or so off his desk before Q reigns in his telekinesis, dropping down with clacks and thuds.
M’s a warlock, not a fire extinguisher. He doesn’t know what they expect him to do about this, because reigning Bond in has proven to be almost impossible.
“Invest in fireproofing spell,” M suggests. He’s not entirely sure why they haven’t done this before, it seems like a logical progression, especially since everyone in this building is magic in one way or another, but perhaps Q is just stubborn.
“While I was sitting in it.”
“I’ll talk to him,” M assures him, and Q leaves, although he’s not quite satisfied with that. M can’t really blame him, because he’s seriously beginning to consider if Bond is actually cost-effective. He wonders why Bond would have set Q’s chair on fire, and decides that he probably found the colour disagreeable, with the added bonus of being able to annoy Q at the same time.
Jilly pads into his office a little while later, something grey and limp in her mouth.
What is that? M asks his familiar carefully, because he’s not sure that he really wants to know.
Dropping the thing onto the carpet and looking pleased, she replies, Someone animated the miniature gargoyles again.
Well, it’s not the worst thing to have happened this week.
A lot of them are on fire, Jilly adds, and M resists the urge to bang his head against his desk. She makes an amused noise and wanders out again, thankfully taking the gargoyle with her -- M thinks it might still be twitching a little.
I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself, I’m the one who has to clean up this mess, M thinks at her, and she laughs some more, but tinged with a little sympathy, because Bond really does have a problem.
Jilly and M are often met with doubt and condescension; most powerful warlocks tend to have more extravagant familiars rather than the seemingly ordinary dog that M has bonded with, but they’ve both proved their worth many times over, and have no need for showboating.
“Who animated the gargoyles?” M asks Tanner when he passes by his desk on his way to check on the departments.
“It was the new receptionist,” Tanner replies. “He says it was an accident. I’ve already briefed him.”
M appreciates Tanner as one of the most helpful employees in the entirety of MI6, and probably one of the most sane. His ability to sense the powers of others makes him the perfect choice for the Chief of Staff, as well as his uncanny memory. His other ability is a closely guarded secret, and one that is not to be abused or taken lightly.
Eventually M finds his way down to Q Branch for damage control, and he’s relieved to see that Eve is already there. The gods bless Eve Moneypenny; she’s another employee unlike any other, far more than a simple assistant, and M really doesn’t know what he’d do without her. She looks between Q and Bond, energy crackling menacingly at her fingertips. M can smell burning plastic, and there’s a stapler that’s still snapping at one of Bond’s shoes.
“Stop that,” Eve tells Q, and the stapler stops moving. Q looks petulant.
She catches M’s eye and winks. He leaves gratefully, because he’s not particularly keen on being attacked by office supplies, and he honestly wouldn’t put that past Q right now, since he suspects that he’s been set on fire again, which tends to leave Q in a fairly foul mood.
When he gets back to his office, he finds a flaming gargoyle hopping around, Jilly snapping at its stubby wings, and his stack of complaints are now just a pile of ashes. M can’t bring himself to mind terribly much about that.
Characters: James Bond, Q, Gareth Mallory, Eve Moneypenny, Bill Tanner
Pairing: None
Rating: G
Word count: c.850
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: Characters are not mine.
A/N: For the trope bingo prompt "au: magic".
***
Half the paperwork on M’s desk consists of increasingly hysterical complaints from every department in MI6 about how James Bond is an unstable pyromaniac, because everywhere he goes he seems to destroy something.
What M mostly gains from the piles of complaints that grow bigger as he watches is that Bond seems to be quite fond of their new quartermaster, since Q Branch is where most of the complaints come from. He also determines that Bond is definitely lying when he says that he can’t help it, because he’s perfectly controlled when on a mission, and takes great delight in setting Q’s things on fire.
Q storms into M’s office one afternoon, smelling slightly singed, and M sighs. Eve has a soft spot for the boy and tends to let him in even though what M really wants is to just be left alone so he can think about why this wasn’t in the job description, and then possibly find a spell that will make every complaint that flies onto his desk turn into butterflies.
Then he remembers the terrible giant insect incident a few weeks ago, and decides against it.
“He set my chair on fire,” Q says, furiously. A few of M’s things float an inch or so off his desk before Q reigns in his telekinesis, dropping down with clacks and thuds.
M’s a warlock, not a fire extinguisher. He doesn’t know what they expect him to do about this, because reigning Bond in has proven to be almost impossible.
“Invest in fireproofing spell,” M suggests. He’s not entirely sure why they haven’t done this before, it seems like a logical progression, especially since everyone in this building is magic in one way or another, but perhaps Q is just stubborn.
“While I was sitting in it.”
“I’ll talk to him,” M assures him, and Q leaves, although he’s not quite satisfied with that. M can’t really blame him, because he’s seriously beginning to consider if Bond is actually cost-effective. He wonders why Bond would have set Q’s chair on fire, and decides that he probably found the colour disagreeable, with the added bonus of being able to annoy Q at the same time.
Jilly pads into his office a little while later, something grey and limp in her mouth.
What is that? M asks his familiar carefully, because he’s not sure that he really wants to know.
Dropping the thing onto the carpet and looking pleased, she replies, Someone animated the miniature gargoyles again.
Well, it’s not the worst thing to have happened this week.
A lot of them are on fire, Jilly adds, and M resists the urge to bang his head against his desk. She makes an amused noise and wanders out again, thankfully taking the gargoyle with her -- M thinks it might still be twitching a little.
I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself, I’m the one who has to clean up this mess, M thinks at her, and she laughs some more, but tinged with a little sympathy, because Bond really does have a problem.
Jilly and M are often met with doubt and condescension; most powerful warlocks tend to have more extravagant familiars rather than the seemingly ordinary dog that M has bonded with, but they’ve both proved their worth many times over, and have no need for showboating.
“Who animated the gargoyles?” M asks Tanner when he passes by his desk on his way to check on the departments.
“It was the new receptionist,” Tanner replies. “He says it was an accident. I’ve already briefed him.”
M appreciates Tanner as one of the most helpful employees in the entirety of MI6, and probably one of the most sane. His ability to sense the powers of others makes him the perfect choice for the Chief of Staff, as well as his uncanny memory. His other ability is a closely guarded secret, and one that is not to be abused or taken lightly.
Eventually M finds his way down to Q Branch for damage control, and he’s relieved to see that Eve is already there. The gods bless Eve Moneypenny; she’s another employee unlike any other, far more than a simple assistant, and M really doesn’t know what he’d do without her. She looks between Q and Bond, energy crackling menacingly at her fingertips. M can smell burning plastic, and there’s a stapler that’s still snapping at one of Bond’s shoes.
“Stop that,” Eve tells Q, and the stapler stops moving. Q looks petulant.
She catches M’s eye and winks. He leaves gratefully, because he’s not particularly keen on being attacked by office supplies, and he honestly wouldn’t put that past Q right now, since he suspects that he’s been set on fire again, which tends to leave Q in a fairly foul mood.
When he gets back to his office, he finds a flaming gargoyle hopping around, Jilly snapping at its stubby wings, and his stack of complaints are now just a pile of ashes. M can’t bring himself to mind terribly much about that.