#malloryq

It’s Supportive Sunday!

Supportive Sunday is a day when we encourage you to support someone in the fandom!

There are lots of ways to do that:

Kudos something you like

A short comment (“Loved this!” or “Extra kudos!”)

A more detailed comment (“X made me laugh out loud!”)

Make a rec post

Send a creator a short anon ask about their work! (“What inspired X?”)

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Reblog this post with a rec

As part of Supportive Sundays, we’re also highlighting some fancreations with few comments that may be overlooked.

April 2020, by Danger_Zone24. Summary: Short stories for every day of April. [Includes Q/Mallory, 00Q, Q/Alec, and gen]  

Keep Calm. Dance On., by Psychopersonified. Summary: “Is that Nish’s mix of Vodka, Redbull and Ribena?” Q surprises him by reaching for the glass, fingers curling around Bond’s to pull it close and takes a sip from it. The gesture is scandalously intimate considering they are still in HQ among colleagues - if anyone was watching, it would seem as if Bond was feeding him the drink. [00Q] 

Aquatic Therapy, by tayryn. Summary: After a close call, Olivia and James seek comfort in each other. [M/James Bond] 

Day 16: Cookies - Mallory’s favorite cookies are oatmeal raisin. Everyone is half convinced this is because no one else likes oatmeal raisin cookies, so he doesn’t have to share.

Some spies, Eve reflected with amusement, were not quite as good at keeping secrets as they liked to think they were.

At least, they weren’t particularly good at keeping secrets from her.

M’s office was professionally devoid of even the most tasteful holiday decoration; it had been so every year since he’d taken the position. This made the jolly red and green striped tin sitting on the corner of his desk stand out all the more.

The tin, Eve had quickly learned, was filled with oatmeal raisin cookies; though this was, in Eve’s opinion, a terrible waste of a cookie, M seemed quite pleased by them (at least as pleased as he ever seemed by anything.)

Lots of people baked, of course, particularly around the holidays; that wasn’t the giveaway. There were considerably fewer people from whom M would trust a gift of food but, though that shortened the list, that still wasn’t the giveaway.

No, it was the fact that Q had been bringing baked goods into Q branch all month in those very same tins that gave it away.

Though perhaps even more telling was the fact that Q had made them for M when he’d made it known in the past that he doesn’t take requests or make treats for just one person. Or the fact that M kept the cookies on his desk at all when his office was largely free of personal items. Or the way Q always looked up when M entered the room, distracted for a moment in a way he never was by anyone else. Or the way M’s eyes softened, just a little, only if you knew how to look, when Q was around.

Mallory is actually a very secret cuddler. It surprised Q at first, and he didn’t expect to enjoy it as much as he does, but it’s nice, having someone just a little bit bigger than him just hold him him the way Mallory does; Mallory loves the way Q fits against him (like he’s supposed to be there, Mallory might think, if he were a romantic)

Q likes to experiment in bed (not terribly surprising); Mallory doesn’t mind, as such, but he’s also a fan of routine and has his favorite acts/positions. They manage to compromise; not every experiment works out, but they never regret trying

Mallory is one of the few people authorized to know Q’s real name, and takes full advantage of that fact; Q loves being Q, but he also likes hearing Mallory call him by his name, and Q calls him Gareth in kind

They both know Mallory will eventually have to retire, the way Mansfield was meant to be put out to pasture, and that this will happen long before Q is ready to give up MI6 (if he ever gives it up), but they’re sort of avoiding discussing it

When they do manage dates, they don’t actually go out much, as they would present too large a target combined, but for one anniversary, when they both somehow manage the night off, Mallory pulls some strings and gets them an excellent security detail so they can enjoy dinner at a nice restaurant

Otherwise, they’ll stay in and cook or get takeaway and enjoy a quiet evening together, or just skip food completely and head straight to the bedroom or nearest available surface (and christ, Mallory hasn’t felt this young in years)

((Day 20! Only 11 days left, oh my gosh! This one fills the free space on the Fluff Prompt Table; it was an idea I had already and seemed suitably fluffy, so I plugged it in. No warnings, just silliness))

Read it on Ao3

Q squinted through the darkness at the clock on the dresser. 3:58. Or maybe 3:28. The eight might’ve been a three. It was hard to tell with digital clocks. Everything got a bit watery-looking when he wasn’t wearing his glasses.

Whatever. It was late. So late it was early, and Q. Could. Not. Sleep.

Behind him, Mallory grumbled into his pillow.

“Gareth?” Q ventured quietly, turning to look over his shoulder.

Mallory’s eyes remained steadfastly closed, but he continued to mutter. Q caught the words “absolutely not” and something about “bloody papers.”

((Day 7! I can’t believe it’s been a week already! I’m tired! Anyway, this fills the “Time Travel” square on the General Prompt Table. It’s probably a bit thin, but I really hate time travel and wasn’t sure what else to do. Warnings for implied torture, sorta implied PTSD?))

Read it on Ao3

Mallory is no stranger to nightmares, but they have always been his own. He has never had to soothe another’s fear in the night, to calm their cries or hold them until their shaking subsided. To be fair, he’s rarely had anyone else do this for him, either.

Even when he takes Q to his bed, nightmares are solitary affairs. Q knows better than to touch Mallory when he wakes tense and wild-eyed, uncertain where the danger is but certain it exists. And when Q comes to with a gasp and lays panting, trying to regain his own equilibrium, he just as often leaves the bed as does just quietly attempt to sleep again.

Of course, some things can’t be overcome so easily.

Three days in the hands of monsters is too long to come away unscathed.