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He wasn’t sure why 007 hated him, he just did. Honestly, Q must have killed the agent’s child in another life for 007 to glare at Q the way he did.
And God, could he be cold. Q had thought that their little disagreement in the museum had been a one-time thing; he hadn’t imagined that the agent would always be so cold to him.
That is, when the agent even spoke to him. Most of the time, 007 would try to get through their meetings with little to no verbal communication. Q could talk to the agent until his face turned blue, 007 would simply nod and leave as soon as he could.
Q wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do. True, it wasn’t like the Quartermaster needed 007 to like him…
But that didn’t mean he didn’t want him to.
He was sure he had tried everything at that point, from being warm and polite to complimenting 007’s work on the field (even if he did usually destroy Q’s equipment in the process). But no matter how much Q had tried to get on the agent’s good side, 007 remained cold and distant.
Until the day Q got new glasses.
To be honest, it wasn’t even that big of a deal, Q just needed a new pair of glasses for when he needed to stare at text for hours on end as opposed to working with intricate wiring (or at least that was what Medical had said). And the glasses didn’t even look that different from his usual pair, the only real difference was the frames were a navy blue instead of black. No one even noticed the switch while Q was working in Q branch.
“You look good in navy.”
Q blinked, looking up from his work. 007 was standing in front of Q’s desk, returning his equipment from his mission in Delhi (or rather, what was left of it). “Excuse me?” He asked, not sure if he even heard the agent correctly.
“The glasses.” 007 gestured toward Q’s face, “They suit you.”
Q was still registering what had just happened when the agent turned and left the office. Since when did 007 comment on someone’s glasses, let alone his glasses? How was it that the only person who had even noticed anything different about Q that day was the one person who Q was sure hated him?
Right?
Of course, Q spent the rest of the day trying to figure out just what was going on. He did not want to say he was getting a bit obsessed with the 007 situation (even if he was lying to himself about that bit), but it was driving him mad.
So the next time 007 was in his office, Q had to ask.
He was shocked when the agent in turned asked him out to dinner.
“But you don’t like me.” Q blinked, “You don’t even talk to me.”
The agent looked somewhat sheepish at the statement, “I don’t exactly have a good track record with relationships…”
Well…that was true, “So…” Q started, “how long as this been going on?”
Bond looked like he’d rather go through torture than admit how long he’d been suffering from emotional constipation, judging by the look on his face.
“…a while, then?” Q raised an eyebrow.
Bond simply nodded.
“Well alright then.” Q chuckled to himself. This should be an adventure, “When shall we have dinner?”