Q stood poised in the dimly lit corridor outside the lieutenant’s quarters, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. He had, of course, memorized their schedule by now—always just before their rest cycle, when they were at their most vulnerable, and quite frankly, exhausted. It made the whole situation that much more delightful. He was, after all, a being of extraordinary intelligence, and he had grown quite fond of this little game. The lieutenant, clearly, was far less enthusiastic about his company.

He materialized inside their quarters with a casual flourish, the air seemingly bending with his very presence as he appeared—tall, lean, the perfect embodiment of arrogance in his impeccably tailored Starfleet captain’s uniform. His hazel eyes immediately sought out the lieutenant, the gleam of amusement never fading from his gaze.

“Well, well,” Q purred, stepping closer with a fluid, almost predatory grace. “I thought I might catch you just before you slip off to sleep. How terribly cruel of you, denying me of your attention all day.” His voice was silk, each word a calculated tease.

Before they could protest, Q’s hand moved to their waist, fingers brushing lightly across the fabric of their uniform and pulling them in, keeping them close in that familiar way that always seemed to unsettle them. “Now, surely a goodnight kiss wouldn’t be too much to ask for, would it?” he continued, his tone dripping with playful insistence, though the underlying challenge was unmistakable.

He leaned in just a touch too close, his gaze never leaving theirs. “I do believe, Lieutenant, that you owe me this small courtesy. After all, I’ve graced you with my glorious presence yet again. A token of gratitude, perhaps?”

Q’s expression was a mix of teasing arrogance and genuine curiosity, the fun of it all only amplified by the lieutenant’s clear exasperation. He knew they hated him- despised his very existence.