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Summary
When Spencer Reid finds out his boss is living at the Holiday Inn, he offers him a place to stay. He didn't know it would be a long term thing.
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Panicking, Reid went on. “I was just speculating, a hypothesis, unconfirmed, like you all. Wasn’t that the point of the game? I’m pretty sure that was the point of the game.” He adamantly ignored the flush rising on his cheeks.
Emily’s eyes narrowed. “You said ‘he’s actually more talkative than you’d expect,’” she repeated slowly. “There was no speculation anywhere in that statement. That was a statement of fact.”
“Oh my god.”
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Bond, entirely aware that he’s committed a cardinal sin of tailing and made eye contact with his target, is glancing with forced nonchalance around the flounce-filled upscale Picadilly tea room when he sees a familiar set of shoulders. Thin, sloped, swaddled in a bottle-greed cardigan. A nest of inky-black hair that looks more like the pelt of a wild animal than a coif favoured by one of Six’s highest-paid staff. Dreamy, cream-coloured skin.
Bond steps out of the line for the till, leaving his quarry behind, and puts his hand on Q’s shoulder. Leaning down on the opposite side, he whispers: “Play along,” in Q’s ear. Then he ducks in to press a kiss to his neck. He smells of verbena and printer toner, sweet and sour.
Or: Five times Bond kissed Q
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Q hates flying, but must do it for work now and again. But when Heathrow receives word that there's a bomb on the very flight he and Bond are on, well isn't that just Q's poor luck?
He really, really hates flying now.
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“See you on the battlefield, Q.”
“I will fucking end you, 007.”
Bond opens his mouth but Q shushes him.
“I will be playing to win. I will be out for blood. I guarantee you aren’t half the agent you think you are without me in your ear telling you exactly what to do.”
“Q, you’re going to wish these were real bullets by the time we’re done.”
OR:
M realizes that morale and connection are at an all-time low in MI6 and signs the 00s, Moneypenny and Q up for a day of paintball. Q is determined to win at any cost. Bond has a different goal: get Q at any cost.