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Bond promised that after the longest flight Q had ever taken in his life, he wouldn’t have to get back on a plane for three weeks until they needed to return to London from their holiday. He had been true to his word.
Q thought that if they weren’t going on a plane, they were at their final destination - he had made the reservations after all - but Bond once again proved to be a surprise. Perhaps by now, Q should have come to expect the unexpected but with Bond, there was no way of knowing what would happen next.
Which was why he found himself gripping tight to the side of the boat as Bond expertly sailed them through choppy waters. Having never before had the opportunity to be on a boat for more than an hour or so in his entire life, Q was unprepared for the seasickness that swamped him the moment they lost sight of the shore.
“This was not the relaxing Christmas holiday I had in mind,” he complained as Bond turned the boat eastward. Q had an intelligence far above average and an encyclopedic knowledge of many different topics but geography never interested him in school. If there was an island east of the island where they had landed, he didn’t know it. Bond was smirking, the bastard, and still not telling Q where they were heading.
Nausea struck again and Q closed his eyes, waiting for the rolling to stop. “We’ll be there soon. It will be worth it.” Q clung to Bond’s words and vowed to get revenge in the near future if he determined that all of this was not worth it, despite Bond’s claims.
After what felt like hours, though according to his watch had only been ten minutes, the waves were less choppy and the sea became so clear you could see the bottom. Fish swam freely through the aquamarine water, reminding Q of a screensaver his parents had on the first computer they ever bought him.
Bond docked the boat like he had been sailing his whole life (he once confided that his parents were never interested in sailing so he didn’t learn until he was in the Navy), and helped Q onto dry land. Never before had he been so happy to stand on a beach. The ground felt as though it swayed underneath him and he held onto Bond to keep from falling over.
“We have to sail back to catch our flight, don’t we, James?” Q asked, already knowing the answer. “Maybe we can just live here.” It wasn’t a bad idea. The small house sat just off the beach, with a view of the crystalline water and endless sky. He’d arranged to have it well-stocked with food and aside from his phone which could be used anywhere in the world, they’d left all their technology behind.
For three weeks, it was just James and Q. Work couldn’t intrude. Their friends couldn’t intrude. The world could be burning and neither of them would know.
It was the perfect holiday for them.
The people Q hired had thought of everything, so despite the tropical atmosphere outside, inside was a perfect Christmas tableau. Stockings were hung by the fireplace, the tree's lights twinkled with the ornaments that matched the sea outside, and everything was just...perfect.
"If we ever retired," he found himself saying, bringing in his bag and setting it in the small bedroom. "We should retire here."
They rarely discussed retirement, knowing how unlikely it was for one or both of them to survive their job, and yet here in this place, with Christmas inside and a tropical paradise outside, everything seemed possible.
"When we retire," Bond said coming up behind him and wrapping his arms around Q's slim waist, "we will buy this very place. Sounds like heaven."
Here, in Bond's arms, with the rest of the world safely away from them, Q had to admit, this was a close to heaven as he would ever be. And that was just fine with him.