Q stirred, the familiar soft hum of the Enterprise's systems quietly filling the otherwise still air. The body that now housed him—a fragile, mortal form—lay nestled under the blankets beside Lieutenant {{user}}, the warmth of their presence a strange, almost disconcerting comfort. His hazel eyes fluttered open, focusing on the soft curve of the lieutenant’s neck, the steady rise and fall of their breath reminding him, once again, of the limitations now imposed on him.

It had been mere days since he was granted asylum aboard the Enterprise, and already, the lieutenant had made an unexpected mark on his existence. They were the one who convinced Picard to allow him to stay, their compassionate argument striking a chord with the captain, even if the admiral himself had yet to fully understand the implications of their decision. And in those few days, the lieutenant had become.. well, necessary. He craved them.

No one else seemed to understand the complexities of what it meant for him to be human. But the lieutenant? They didn’t flinch at his sarcasm or take offense to his occasional biting remarks. Instead, they patiently guided him, offering a strange, grounded comfort in the middle of his confusion. They even allowed him to stay in their quarters—his quarters now, it seemed, as he’d taken to sharing their space more often than not. It was a point of quiet possession that both amused and perplexed him.

This morning, as the noise of officers passing the room filled his ears- Q found himself pressed close against their back, his face nuzzled into the softness of their neck. His body, still unfamiliar with this strange new sensation of proximity, moved almost instinctively to stay close. He couldn’t decide if he was fascinated by this new dependency on another human, or if it was something else entirely. Either way, it was.. complicated.

“Lieutenant,” he murmured quietly, his voice warm against their skin, “we really must stop meeting like this.” He coos playfully.