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In Sickness or in Health

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Q was most definitely not sick . Definitely definitely not. Q was a grown man, and if he were really sick, he would go home. But he was not sick, and 007 needed him anyway. How James Bond ever survived without Q by his side, Q would never know.

Right now, Bond was on his way back, and should be safe, but with James Bond, it was hard to say. Q liked to wait until his agent returned back to MI6 before clocking off. So what if Q's desk was littered with used tissues, and his nose was probably red, and he was currently too weak to get up and make himself more tea? Everything was fine.

The door to Q branch slid open, and in walked a surprisingly intact Bond. Q had to double take, worrying that maybe his non-illness was messing with his eyesight. But no, it was Bond, completely unscarred and not bleeding, at least where Q could see.

"You're fine", Q greeted, stunned.

Bond flashed a confused smile.

"You're not."

"I am totally okaayyy", Q slurred.

"Alright then", Bond answered, "You're totally okay."

But even as he was saying the words, Bond swept all of Q's tissues off the desk and into the bin. If Q had more energy, he would probably be more embarrassed. Bond then walked over to the closet and grabbed Q's coat, helping Q into it and into a scarf that Q had never seen before. It smelled like Bond. Not that Q knew what James Bond smelled like, definitely not.

"We're taking you home", Bond commanded.

"But you haven't debriefed yet", Q protested weakly.

The double-oh agent just rolled his eyes and steered Q towards the door, grabbing Q's laptop and bag on the way.

Bond flagged a cab and gave the driver Q's address. Q wondered aloud about how Bond came to get his address.

"But you keep tabs on where everyone goes, don't you?", Q murmured.

"Only the people that I like and the people that I don't trust", Bond answered with a small smirk.

"And which one am I?", Q asked.

Bond stayed silent.

When they got to Q's flat, Bond keyed in the access code. Q blinked. It was the access code he gave to guests, not the longer one that he used himself. Q wondered whether it was because the guest code was easier to come by or if it was out of respect for Q. Either way, he didn't care much at this point. Most of his security had to do with intruders getting out of the flat.

What did surprise Q though, was how familiar Bond was with the inside of his apartment. Bond lightly pushed Q into the bedroom, and then marched into the kitchen, looking like he had a purpose. Q could hear Bond put the kettle on before he promptly fell asleep.

When Q did wake up, he rolled over lightly and put his glasses back on. He was louder than expected or Bond had super human hearing, and Bond was in the room faster than he could blink.

"Are you awake now?", Bond asked.

"No", Q deadpanned, "I'm very asleep."

"The last three times you woke up, you just fell back asleep", Bond informed.

Q was now apparently awake enough to blush. Embarrassing. Luckily, Bond left to get something. When the double-oh agent returned, he was carrying a tray with chicken soup and cranberry juice.

"No orange juice?", Q asked with a raised eyebrow.

"You don't like orange juice", Bond replied.

So Bond had done his homework. Q sniffed at the soup.

"Is this homemade?", Q asked. He knew that there had been absolutely nothing in his kitchen other than pot noodles when they had arrived earlier.

"I stopped by the store", Bond replied.

"But you made this."

Bond shrugged.

"I've picked up a lot of things over the years."

The agent knelt by the bed and watched Q drink all of the soup and juice. He left briefly to put the kettle back on and make more tea. Q also had a nagging suspicion that Bond was not only doing the dishes, but sweeping the flat for bugs. Bond brought the tea back, set it on Q's bedside table and took the tray away.

"Get some rest, Quartermaster."

Q listened until the door closed behind Bond, and then he fell asleep. When he woke up in the morning, Q felt much better. He walked into the kitchen and looked around. Everything was clean.
Much cleaner than Q had remembered it being.

There was a note on the counter along with some ridiculous looking spy movies.


Q sighed. Well, he hadn't taken a day off in...well, ever. Q picked up the least terrible looking DVD and grabbed his laptop. Hopefully Bond had a decent taste in movies.