Part 2
"You didn't bring Wesley?" observes Picard, handing Beverly a glass of wine, attempting not to allow his eyes to rove over her in her casual skirt and blouse.
Lips quirking upward, Beverly shakes her head stiffly, following Picard over to the sofa in the living room of his cabin.
"Why?" Picard asks nonchalantly, lowering himself onto the sofa, wine glass in his hand.
"I didn't want to tell him I was coming here," admits Beverly hesitantly.
Patting the cushion beside him, Picard motions for Beverly to join him. "Why didn't you want to tell your son you were coming here?"
Pursing her lips, Beverly hesitantly perches next to Picard on the sofa. "I don't know…what I'm doing here."
"We're having dinner, Beverly," smiles Picard jovially, reaching for her hand.
Averting her eyes, Beverly exhales audibly.
Inching closer, Jean-Luc brings her hand to his lips and kisses her knuckles. "Beverly, I want to be with you. I wish to spend time with you."
"Like…a date?" clarifies Beverly, brow raised.
Smirking, Jean-Luc sets his wine glass on the table in front of them and takes Beverly's glass and deposits on the table next to his. With his free hand, he splays his hand across her abdomen. "I don't care what you call it. I just want you."
Leaning forward, Beverly brushes her lips against his, mind reeling with emotion, trying to decipher her feelings and his words.
Bringing a hand up to her face, Jean-Luc strokes her cheek with his thumb, returning the kiss. After a moment, he breaks off, putting some distance between their lips. Taking a long breath, he gazes into her eyes and smiles warmly. "I've got dinner prepared and keeping warm. How about hors-d'oeuvre?"
Bobbing her head, Beverly nods gingerly. "Alright."
Jean-Luc reluctantly lets go and shuffles over to the kitchen, leaving Beverly alone in the kitchen to contemplate what had transpired.
He wants her here. Not for a brief fling. Not for an hour's recreation. He wants her. He wants her here, with him. Not just in the holodeck. Not just in the dark, protective shadows of the bedroom, but here. Out in the open, exposed. Real.
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"Well, I gotta say…."sighs Beverly audibly, stretching her arms above her head on the pillow in Jean-Luc's bed as he rests his head on her stomach. "That was a lovely dinner."
"I liked dessert best," jests Picard, brushing his lips over her navel, his hands lazily caressing her legs as he lays half on top of her, exhausted and thoroughly content.
Giggling, Beverly lays her head against the pillow and closes her eyes, soaking up his attention as he places open-mouthed kisses along her chest. "Yes…dessert."
Jean-Luc swirls his tongue over the nipple of one breast, simultaneously circling the other with his thumb.
"Jean-Luc…"whimpers Beverly, grasping for his head.
"Just lay back and relax," encourages Jean-Luc, sliding up to rub his pelvis against her.
"I have to go," protests Beverly meekly, grasping his neck.
"The night is young," argues Jean-Luc, lifting his head to grin impishly at her.
Moaning, Beverly shakes her head, trying to sit upright. "No. I must go home."
Letting out a frustrated groan, Jean-Luc slides off of her, allowing her to right herself.
"I've got to get back to Wes," explains, Beverly, laying her palm against his cheek. "He'll be back, and he'll wonder where I am."
Nodding stiffly, Jean-Luc exhales gruffly. "Very well. Come back tomorrow night after your shift."
Gazing questioningly into his clear hazel eyes," Beverly's lips quirk. "Another night?"
"Yes," breathes Jean-Luc, cupping the side of her face. "Come again."
Bowing her head, Beverly drops her hand. "I…I can't. It's Friday. Friday Wes and I usually have dinner and ice cream sundaes in Ten Forward."
Half smiling, Jean-Luc grazes her lips with his thumb. "Sounds delicious. May I join you?"
Eyes dilating, Beverly's lips part. "You want to come to Ten Forward with me and my son?"
This is entirely out of character for the stalwart captain. She had been on board for months, and Beverly had not seen Picard out socializing with the crew in the ship's bar.
"Why not?" shrugs Jean-Luc casually, wrapping an arm around her back, pulling her closer.
Silent, Beverly cannot formulate a protest as his lips meet hers. Truth is, she cannot conceive a good reason why he shouldn't come out with them, and she knows the captain could benefit from some relaxation. However, the last thing she wants is to be seen out in Ten Forward with Jean-Luc when she can hardly keep her eyes, or her hands, to herself around him. This new…whatever it is that they've got themselves into, has to get under control, and fast.
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"I'm sorry for crashing your dinner," apologies Deanna again, taking a bite of her pasta at the table with Beverly and Wesley in Ten Forward. "Will should have been here ages ago. Something must have come up."
Rolling her eyes, Beverly sets her fork on the table next to her plate of rice stir fry. "Deanna, stop. You're not crashing. We're here to enjoy everyone's company."
"I'll bet Commander Riker is trying to make sense of those sensor diagnostics. We couldn't make heads or tails of them," remarks Wes, shoving a forkful of lasagne into his mouth.
"Well, it's unfortunate," shrugs Troi dramatically. "He's going to miss chocolate sundaes."
"What? Are we too late for chocolate sundaes?" chortles Will, approaching the table behind Beverly, with Picard in his wake.
Giggling, Troi shakes her head, leaning back into her chair. "No. We haven't finished dinner. Have a seat and order some dinner. You must be hungry."
"Ravenous," Picard smirks at Beverly as Will pulls up an extra chair from the neighbouring table for Picard and sets it next to Beverly's chair.
Already blushing, Beverly averts her eyes to her dinner plate and reaches for her glass of carbonated water as Picard and Riker take their seats at the table.
"Did you sort out the diagnostics, Commander?" inquires Wes.
Nodding, Riker leans forward, elbows on the table. "We think so."
"Captain, what brings you to Ten Forward tonight?" Troi asks conversationally, abandoning her meal.
Lips curling into a mischievous smile, Picard glances in the direction of the bar. "Oh, just making an effort to get out and enjoy my crew in a more…intimate setting."
Spitting out her water, Beverly chokes, eyes as wide as saucers.
Concerned, Wes turns to Beverly immediately. "Mom?"
Beverly furiously dabs at her flushed face with a napkin, mumbling. "Sorry."
Hiding a smirk, Jean-Luc takes a napkin and swipes the table of the spilt water. "Everything alright, Doctor?"
Blushing, Beverly evades Troi's questioning glance and Riker's jovial chuckling.
Riker waves for the server to help tend to the little spill and take their dinner orders.
As Wesley returns the conversation to the sensor malfunction, Beverly inwardly groans, wishing she could escape.