Fanfiction: Albedo 2/? (James Bond - Skyfall)
Title: "Albedo 2/?"
Status: WIP
Fandom: James Bond (Craig!Bond; Movieverse)
Pairing(s)/Character(s): James Bond/Q; M (Gareth Mallory), Eve Moneypenny, Bill Tanner, minor OCs
Disclaimer: The James Bond Franchise belongs to MGM and Ian Fleming, not mine, no claim.
Rating: T
Genre: Alternate Universe, Sentinel/Guide, spirit animals, H/C, angst, humor, slash, 00Q
Warnings: unbeta'ed, canon-typical violence, language
Summary: “I want Q.”
Note: "Albedo" is a collection of drabbles and one-shots, situated in the same AU, as such each part is a stand-alone and complete.
AN: I botched up the timeline, see for yourself. Skyfall events will be dealt with later, just pretend that Q and James met in the course of another mission, please ^-^”
Part One Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten
Was About To Change
M was sitting at her desk, about to sign a document, when the glass door to her office was opened with the kind of disregard for her position she had come to associate with exactly one special agent on MI6's payroll.
She didn't bother to look up from the blueprint she had spread out to her left, one edge weighed down with her cup of tea. Nearly silent footsteps came closer, their sound swallowed by the thick carpet.
“007. I was not aware that we have an appointment.”
“We don't.”
“Maybe I should have Moneypenny shoot you,” she commented. M left her pen to rest on the feasibility report Q-branch had submitted for clearance. “I'm sure she would enjoy it.”
“I want Q.”
A momentary silence settled over the room, only interrupted by the hum of the computer terminals. M took off her glasses, settled back in her well worn leather chair, and finally looked up to give Bond a once over.
His grey suit was rumpled, one sleeve torn and lapels flecked with blood. He was unshaven, face pale, and the dark circles under his eyes matched the bruise spreading over his left cheekbone.
Bond had obviously skipped both his mission debrief with Tanner and the mandatory visit in medical to come straight to her. More importantly his hands were steady, arrogant expression firmly in place and he had not made any attempt to raid her liquor cabinet. - Yet.
M suppressed a sigh, wondering why nothing could ever be simple with this insufferable man. Of course Bond 'wanted' Q, of all Guides. He should get in line and draw a number.
Bond smirked under her scrutiny, one eyebrow rising as he returned her stare, completely unfazed. Familiarity had both its perks and its drawbacks.
“Do you?” she asked, giving nothing away, her tone matching her cold look. “Whatever for?”
Bond's stance shifted as he tried and failed to get a read on her. “He is a Guide. You have been pestering me to work with one ever since I came online. He must be new on the list, yet you never mentioned him.”
M took a sip of her cooling tea to hide a grimace. Bond really had no idea. Hardly a surprise, considering that Q's file required a security clearance way above his pay grade and was only available as a digital copy, which meant that he had had no means to steal or otherwise access it.
“And you feel that the two of you are compatible?”
“Yes.”
That simple answer gave M pause. After the whole mess first in Russia, then Venice and finally Chile, she had forced Bond on a long-term mission that had been rehabilitation in disguise. Which meant that Q and him had met for the first time in the National Gallery two weeks ago.
Bond was not given to acting on impulse, well, at least not where his private life was concerned. Q had obviously left an impression.
“I see. And what is Q's opinion on the matter?”
“I haven't asked him yet,” Bond admitted. He had the decency to sound sheepish; M realized she must have given him an incredulous look. “But I'm sure he will be flattered.”
“Flattered my ass,” M muttered under her breath and huffed a laugh. “Unbelievable.”
“Ma'am?” Bond's eyes narrowed at her outburst.
“You are very convinced of yourself, Bond.”
“No more so than usual,” he said with a careless shrug. “You wouldn't want me any other way.”
“Of course not. I appreciate your arrogance. If nothing else, it makes you predictable.”
She was inexplicably fond of Bond, more so than was advisable, perhaps, but that did not mean that her primary concern was anything other than getting results. Allowing 007 a long leash was a matter of securing a tactical advantage and self interest.
“Always glad to be of service.”
Bond turned his back on her and walked over to the liquor cabinet, pouring himself two fingers of her Macallan. She watched him drink for a moment.
“Q is not mine to just 'give' to you and even if he were, I would strongly advice him to reject you. Anything else would be a waste.”
He sat the empty glass down harder than necessary. “I only felt his presence when we shook hands. Is that the reason? You fear I would overwhelm him?”
'Burn him out like Vesper,' Bond didn't add.
Here it surfaced again, Bond's driving force, a special blend of remorse and guilt, mixed with loyalty to Queen and country.
“James. You seem to labour under the misapprehension that this is about you. It is not.” M paused, waiting for him to turn around and face her. “Q is by far the most talented Guide to ever be tested, possibly in the whole of Europe. You, on the other hand, are a second rate Sentinel. Anything beyond a working relationship between the two of you would be an utter waste of Q's potential.”
“I see.”
M studied his face, the working muscles in his clenched jaw, that icy look, the determined set of his shoulders. “I doubt it.”
Bond stopped at the glass door, hand on the silver knob to open it. “You won't interfere?”
“The decision is up to Q. And James.”
“Yes?”
“Good luck. Dealing with our quartermaster, you will need it.”
M watched him leave, past Moneypenny who looked anything but amused that he had used her coffee break to sneak past without permission. M caught her eye and nodded, indicating it was fine; no harm done.
She wondered what Bond might do from here on out, and almost reached for her phone to warn Q... On second thought, scratch that, she needed a stiff drink.
She sighed to herself, “I better make that three.”
Status: WIP
Fandom: James Bond (Craig!Bond; Movieverse)
Pairing(s)/Character(s): James Bond/Q; M (Gareth Mallory), Eve Moneypenny, Bill Tanner, minor OCs
Disclaimer: The James Bond Franchise belongs to MGM and Ian Fleming, not mine, no claim.
Rating: T
Genre: Alternate Universe, Sentinel/Guide, spirit animals, H/C, angst, humor, slash, 00Q
Warnings: unbeta'ed, canon-typical violence, language
Summary: “I want Q.”
Note: "Albedo" is a collection of drabbles and one-shots, situated in the same AU, as such each part is a stand-alone and complete.
AN: I botched up the timeline, see for yourself. Skyfall events will be dealt with later, just pretend that Q and James met in the course of another mission, please ^-^”
Part One Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten
Was About To Change
M was sitting at her desk, about to sign a document, when the glass door to her office was opened with the kind of disregard for her position she had come to associate with exactly one special agent on MI6's payroll.
She didn't bother to look up from the blueprint she had spread out to her left, one edge weighed down with her cup of tea. Nearly silent footsteps came closer, their sound swallowed by the thick carpet.
“007. I was not aware that we have an appointment.”
“We don't.”
“Maybe I should have Moneypenny shoot you,” she commented. M left her pen to rest on the feasibility report Q-branch had submitted for clearance. “I'm sure she would enjoy it.”
“I want Q.”
A momentary silence settled over the room, only interrupted by the hum of the computer terminals. M took off her glasses, settled back in her well worn leather chair, and finally looked up to give Bond a once over.
His grey suit was rumpled, one sleeve torn and lapels flecked with blood. He was unshaven, face pale, and the dark circles under his eyes matched the bruise spreading over his left cheekbone.
Bond had obviously skipped both his mission debrief with Tanner and the mandatory visit in medical to come straight to her. More importantly his hands were steady, arrogant expression firmly in place and he had not made any attempt to raid her liquor cabinet. - Yet.
M suppressed a sigh, wondering why nothing could ever be simple with this insufferable man. Of course Bond 'wanted' Q, of all Guides. He should get in line and draw a number.
Bond smirked under her scrutiny, one eyebrow rising as he returned her stare, completely unfazed. Familiarity had both its perks and its drawbacks.
“Do you?” she asked, giving nothing away, her tone matching her cold look. “Whatever for?”
Bond's stance shifted as he tried and failed to get a read on her. “He is a Guide. You have been pestering me to work with one ever since I came online. He must be new on the list, yet you never mentioned him.”
M took a sip of her cooling tea to hide a grimace. Bond really had no idea. Hardly a surprise, considering that Q's file required a security clearance way above his pay grade and was only available as a digital copy, which meant that he had had no means to steal or otherwise access it.
“And you feel that the two of you are compatible?”
“Yes.”
That simple answer gave M pause. After the whole mess first in Russia, then Venice and finally Chile, she had forced Bond on a long-term mission that had been rehabilitation in disguise. Which meant that Q and him had met for the first time in the National Gallery two weeks ago.
Bond was not given to acting on impulse, well, at least not where his private life was concerned. Q had obviously left an impression.
“I see. And what is Q's opinion on the matter?”
“I haven't asked him yet,” Bond admitted. He had the decency to sound sheepish; M realized she must have given him an incredulous look. “But I'm sure he will be flattered.”
“Flattered my ass,” M muttered under her breath and huffed a laugh. “Unbelievable.”
“Ma'am?” Bond's eyes narrowed at her outburst.
“You are very convinced of yourself, Bond.”
“No more so than usual,” he said with a careless shrug. “You wouldn't want me any other way.”
“Of course not. I appreciate your arrogance. If nothing else, it makes you predictable.”
She was inexplicably fond of Bond, more so than was advisable, perhaps, but that did not mean that her primary concern was anything other than getting results. Allowing 007 a long leash was a matter of securing a tactical advantage and self interest.
“Always glad to be of service.”
Bond turned his back on her and walked over to the liquor cabinet, pouring himself two fingers of her Macallan. She watched him drink for a moment.
“Q is not mine to just 'give' to you and even if he were, I would strongly advice him to reject you. Anything else would be a waste.”
He sat the empty glass down harder than necessary. “I only felt his presence when we shook hands. Is that the reason? You fear I would overwhelm him?”
'Burn him out like Vesper,' Bond didn't add.
Here it surfaced again, Bond's driving force, a special blend of remorse and guilt, mixed with loyalty to Queen and country.
“James. You seem to labour under the misapprehension that this is about you. It is not.” M paused, waiting for him to turn around and face her. “Q is by far the most talented Guide to ever be tested, possibly in the whole of Europe. You, on the other hand, are a second rate Sentinel. Anything beyond a working relationship between the two of you would be an utter waste of Q's potential.”
“I see.”
M studied his face, the working muscles in his clenched jaw, that icy look, the determined set of his shoulders. “I doubt it.”
Bond stopped at the glass door, hand on the silver knob to open it. “You won't interfere?”
“The decision is up to Q. And James.”
“Yes?”
“Good luck. Dealing with our quartermaster, you will need it.”
M watched him leave, past Moneypenny who looked anything but amused that he had used her coffee break to sneak past without permission. M caught her eye and nodded, indicating it was fine; no harm done.
She wondered what Bond might do from here on out, and almost reached for her phone to warn Q... On second thought, scratch that, she needed a stiff drink.
She sighed to herself, “I better make that three.”