She's drunk. There was no denying the fact. He'd watched the liquid ebb away in the bottle of Chateau Picard. They'd only had a few glasses, but Beverly was definitely drunk.
"Beverly, stop," Jean-Luc told her as she giggled. She'd been giggling for the last five minutes. Her face was pink with laughter; his face was pink with embarrassment. What kind of person get's their best friend's wife drunk?! He was furious with himself, there was no denying it. He should have gotten them synthahol instead, but he'd wanted to add a romantic air to their dinner with the traditional Earth celebration of Valentine's Day approaching. He'd rarely had real alcohol with Beverly. In fact, the last time he'd seen her have real alcohol was several years before. Perhaps she's not accustomed to alcohol anymore, her brain might not be able to handle what it used to...
Beverly kept right on giggling.
"I think you should go back to your quarters," Jean-Luc stood. She attempted an unconvincing pout. The giggling went on.
"Why? I'm perfectly fine Jean-Luc," she insisted, reaching up and gently tugging him to sit down beside her again. She was by no means strong enough to pull him down beside her; he sat of his own will to do as she asked him.
"Beverly, you're drunk," he pointed out. He'd tried to avoid raising the topic to spare her, no, his embarrassment.
"I'll be the judge of that," she stuck her head in the air with false pretension. Looking at him sidelong she resumed giggling.
Why is she giggling?!
"Oh, Jean-Luc!" she exclaimed theatrically with a grin. "I'm only teasing."
"Beverly, I can't let you do something you may regret in the morning," Jean-Luc expressed. Had it been any other situation where they could both give full consent, he'd have been all for the idea. But he could never do that, and neither could she. "What kind of friend would I be if I didn't stop you doing something you'd regret?" Her face froze, the smile dropping slowly.
"Is that all you see me as, a friend?" she asked, crestfallen. She's shocked, why is she shocked? Jean-Luc panicked.
"What would you rather I see you as?" the innocent words escaped before he could stop them. Sod it, that's now what I meant to say! Giggles.
WHY IS SHE GIGGLING!?
"Beverly, I can't let you do this in clean conscience," Jean-Luc sighed. "I'm sorry, I'm taking you back to your quarters." He stood, offering her his hand. She took it and rose, wobbling.
Blinking blearily she remarked, "Maybe I am drunk..." her voice soft. She put her head against Jean-Luc's shoulder. "Thank you Jean-Luc. I can always count on you," she whispered in his ear. No. You can't. I'm the reason your husband is dead. You counted on me, and I let you down in the worst way possible. His face turned bright red, starting from the ears and working inwards. Instinctively he put an arm around her shoulders. He wanted to stay there like that, Beverly resting on his shoulder, his arm around her. But he couldn't. It would never work like this between them. With Jack and what happened... no.
"Let's get you home Bev," the corner of her mouth turned up at the mention of the nickname he'd once used several years before.
"Maybe I'm not the only one who's drunk."