#skyfall reader insertl

[strawwritesfic]

Asexual!Q x Female!Reader: Logical Fallacy [Ch. 18]

Summary: Q’s got one hundred and two problems. His girlfriend is, technically speaking, every single one.

Challenge:  “102 Things A Guy Should Know About Girls” challenge by Miss Chocobo on Lunaescence Archives.

Ratings/Warnings/Tags: T (foul language; sexual references; asexual!Q; sexual!reader; a running gag about sexual harassment; double standard: sexual harassment, female on male; sexual harassment played for comedy; James Bond & Reader friendship; civilian!reader; artist!reader; complicated family relationships; reader has a really big family; miscommunications; MI6 would not behave this way in reality; set post-Skyfall; joking references made to Bond/Q)

Pairings: Q/Female!Reader; James Bond/Eve Moneypenny

Tag List: @imaginesfire; @rory-cakes​

Master List

Rule #18: Don’t say you understand when you don’t. That’s bad.

It didn’t take long to get Bond pulled in. Two days. That was all Q was given to handle the situation on his own. When his time was up, Bond went off. Without his (completely unregulated) bodyguard work, you were left to be dumped at MI6.

This was stressful for all parties involved. No one really wanted an unqualified citizen wandering around the place, but where else could you go? Leaving you to wander the city alone or even just stay at your flat would leave you open to attack, kidnapping, torture.

No one seemed to believe Q when he said he hadn’t told you anything.

He knew that it couldn’t be easy for you either. Not that he'd been able to see much of you. You’d been allowed to send only a brief message to Victoria to let her know you were okay. Other than that? No outside contact. And since there wasn’t anyone to be spared to look after you, you got shoved alone into one of the medical rooms in the cellar.

When Q went to visit you on that third night, he found you sitting eerily calm on the military-style cot there. Eerily, he thought, because your hands were covered in charcoal stains and you didn’t seem to be moving at all.

You looked up as he closed the door behind him, though. He ran a hand self-consciously through his hair. It felt greasy; he was badly in need of a shower. At least you had that luxury available. It would be another sleepless night for Q. No one got to sleep, not at a time like this.

The shadows underneath your eyes told him you hadn’t been sleeping anyway.

“Hey,” you told Q through trembling lips. 

To his knowledge, you hadn’t cried, not once through this entire ordeal. But he’d known you long enough that he could tell when it was close. He tried to smile reassuringly as he sat down next to you, but in his current state of disrepair and guilt, he couldn’t manage even that.

“Hello,” he replied.

“How are things topside?”

“They’re…coming along.”

Silence fell, and in it Q could hear the mosquito-like buzzing of the overhead lights. His exhausted mind buzzed along with it, though at the same time he was hyperaware of the fact that you were sitting right next to him, and that the last time he’d seen you had been nearly forty-eight hours ago.

“What have you been drawing?” 

He reached unthinkingly for your sketchpad, but you snatched it away and shoved it behind your back. 

Q’s eyebrows furrowed. "What’s the matter?”

Your eyes slid away from his and fixed on your bare feet hanging several inches above the tiled floor. “It’s not pretty.”

“Ah.”

Quiet again. He felt his blood rushing through his veins, carrying half-formed thoughts that didn’t help anything. He should say something. This was his fault. But–

“Alton,” you whispered. “I want to go home.”

A rough swallow cleared his throat enough for more words. “I know,” he said in what he hoped was a soothing tone. “We’ll get to go soon. Mr. Bond is an expert in these sorts of situations.”

When you turned back to look at Q, he felt a rush of fear. Your darkened eyes didn’t seem to be looking at him, and your voice cracked at just the wrong place. “I’m scared, Alton.”

Without warning, you pressed yourself against him and began to sob into Q’s shoulder. He didn’t know what to do. You never cried like this. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

But he couldn’t let you go home. He couldn’t let you out. The best he could do was take the short rest period given to him to hug you right back and whisper, “I understand. I know.”