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Bond had noticed it as soon as he had returned south from Skyfall. Despite an absolute shed load of work to do as a result of Silva's decimation of their security, Q had taken the time to mark the birthday of one of his minions. There had been cake, singing and the surprise gift of the afternoon off. Each time Bond called to Q Branch, there seemed to be a desk covered in cards, or semi-deflated, shiny helium balloons. Three months after Skyfall, Bond had arrived to return his equipment only to find Q hanging up birthday bunting in preparation for the morning.
He didn't see the fascination with birthdays himself. He had a vague recollection of cake and singing from when he was 7? 8? There had never been a big party- so few other children in the area. At Eton, his birthday had only served to remind him of how alone he was- no big parcels of food and cake for him. As he'd grown older, he had even begun to see his birthday as a steady march towards the inevitable; each one firmly reminding him of the ever shortening odds of him remaining alive.
Clearly, though, his Quartermaster loved them. James imagined a childhood of parties and games, maybe visits to museums and art galleries as he grew up. Definitely a lot of love and warmth. Why else would he insist on making such a fuss of them?
Ten and a half months after he and Q had first met, James had found a small, shiny wrapped parcel in the go-bag he had retrieved from the Aston's boot. Suspicious of an unknown object, he had laid it carefully on the bed, circling it. There were no ticks, it had no smell and wasn't moving or shaking in any way. Gun unholstered, he pulled on the bow, the silver-grey ribbon falling away to reveal a box. Nestled within were a pair of oval cufflinks, platinum and engraved with his initials. He found the note underneath the cushion:
"Happy Birthday, Bond. Do take care of these, they contain a tracker, of course, but also an EMD that will disable all electronic devices within 10 meters, quite the range, if I do say so myself. Regards, Q"
It was only as he shot his cuffs to admire them in place did Bond calculate this was the first birthday gift anyone in MI6 had ever given him and his first since a girlfriend 17 years ago.
***
Bond threw the paper folder at the wall in disgust, the 4 sheets contained within floating gently to the ground. He had reached another dead end. Every single time he thought he had a lead, it just turned out to be a brick wall. The Quartermaster didn't have a birthday. When Q had adopted his new identity, it had not come with such a mundane thing as a birth date - or confirmable age. Such a good job had been done in burying his previous existence that even calling in 3 favours had resulted in drawing a blank. So, he decided to try a different approach.
A few careful questions, a lifetime of reading micro expressions because his life depended on it and some word association meant Bond had narrowed it down to February. He then launched a campaign of attrition. He asked, begged, pleaded, hounded, harassed and even threatened Q to tell him when Q's own birthday was. None of it worked.
Which is why Q now found his office filled with 5 balloon displays, 3 bouquets of flowers, a number of half eaten trays of doughnuts, no less than 12 birthday cards and a pile of unopened gifts. Bond had just treated the previous 2 weeks as if everyday was Q's birthday. Each offering had received the same response; a shake of Q's head and a muttering of, "but it's not my birthday."
February 21st arrived overcast, but a little milder than the previous few days. Bond arrived at Q's office for 9.30 a.m. He handed Q a takeaway cup of Earl Grey and a small, red gift bag. Q placed the tea down carefully and met Bond's hopeful gaze. For the first time, he actually opened his gift - a selection of 3 colognes from his favourite place. Raising his head, he smiled at Bond:
"Thank you, James. It has been a very long time since I marked my birthday."
Bond beamed in delight."So I finally got it right? Happy birthday, Q! May I give you a hug?"
Q nodded and Bond drew him into a warm, relaxing hug. They stayed there for a long moment. Both men knew Q was lying, but they didn't care. From now on, as far as James was concerned, February 21st would always be Q's birthday and he was already planning how to outdo himself next year.