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"The fuck is that?"
Q glanced up from where he was reviewing an inventory slip for replacement watch components to his computer screen. It was early in Q branch, and he'd taken to sitting in his office rather than stand in the center of the main room, as he usually would. No need to exert the energy before the minions filed in, after all.
The feed on the screen was from 007's lapel camera. There was a beautiful view of the Fontana di Piazza Castello in the morning sunlight, before it was swarmed with tourists and locals alike, with Castello Sforzesco behind it. Beside the feed was a readout of Bond's vitals and a miniature map of Milan with a red dot showing his exact location.
"Tell me you know what a fountain is, Double Oh Seven, or I may need to request a cognitive evaluation," he said dryly.
The feed rocked slightly as Bond shifted. "I damned well know what a fountain is, Q. That's not what I meant and you know it."
Indeed, Q did know. Because next to the inventory slip sat his phone, and if he were to unlock said phone and open his third most recent app, he would find himself mid-scrabble game against one James Bond. He had known as soon as he played his final word last night that he would receive a reaction like this once Bond was up and opened his own app. He simply hadn't expected Bond to check his game so soon.
"I assure you, it is indeed a real word," Q said, and signed his name on the inventory slip. "It's in the Scrabble dictionary."
"You're Q. I don't doubt you could hack the Scrabble dictionary to say whatever you bloody well please," Bond muttered like a curse, but it made Q's cheeks burn like he had received a compliment. Because, for them, it rather was one.
It had actually been Bond's idea to play Scrabble. He had been bored on a mission and bugging the hell out of Q branch just for something to do, and when Q suggested Bond play a mobile game to distract himself, well…The rest was history.
"If I were cheating, I would win more often," Q reasoned, and was miffed to hear his voice come out flustered.
"Quixotic," Bond growled, holding his phone up just enough that the feed caught sight of it, Q's last play visible and taunting.
"It's based on the story of Don Quixote, actually," Q continued conversationally, shifting papers around on his desk. "Since at least the early eighteenth century, it has been used to describe unrealistic idealists." He picked up a request for new lasers from R&D and began skimming the words. "You can't complain this time. It's much more commonly used than syzygy."
That was the last obscure word Q had played. Bond had dared to call him esoteric.
Bond huffed a noise that might have been a laugh but could have been the sound of a man quite done with Q's nonsense. Since Q liked their gaming sessions—and Bond himself—he rather hoped for the former.
Q's phone buzzed, drawing his attention away from both his papers and the feed. Oh. Bond had taken his turn in Scrabble. Opening it up, Q's eyes narrowed.
"You."
The feed jiggled with Bond's soft chuckles. "It's in the Scrabble dictionary."
XI. The fourteenth letter of the Greek alphabet. The basis of the Roman X and the Cyrillic Ѯ.
Which would be fine usually, being that it was only worth nine points. Except that Bond's "I" was on a Triple Word Score. It didn't match up to Q's last play, but it was still aggravating. Q had never managed to allow himself to play short words, but Bond did it with aplomb, and raked in the points with them.
Q decided not to respond to Bond's words, only to his play. The "Q" was still open, and he had too many vowels anyway.
Through the feed, Bond gave a soft huff of laughter again. A smile tugged at the corners of Q's lips. "Is that word more acceptable, Agent?"
Something on the other end of the feed caught Bond's attention and he stood, no doubt sliding his phone into his pocket. So much for their game. Q would have to wait for a response until Bond was safely back in his hotel room that evening.
"When I get back," Bond murmured, his voice heavy with promise, "we'll explore the meaning of that word. In detail."
Even as Bond fell into step behind his target, Q's face burned. He reached forward to click mute on his own microphone before letting out a blustering breath.
"That man," he said, shaking his head. "Time and place, Bond. I still have a full day's worth of work ahead of me," he continued, as if reprimanding the older man, even though his mic was off.
From his phone screen, his last play stared back, glowing with promise.
QUEER.
…
…
fin