A/N: I don't think a disclaimer is necessary, but I want to do one anyway because it looks like fun.
Disclaimer: You are about to witness the manipulation of characters who have NOT expressed any consent, written or otherwise, to participate in the events that I have placed them in, nor have their masters, Paramount, et. al. Seeing as this is a non-profit endeavor, I will carry it out regardless of their own wishes. Have a nice day! :-)
Jean-Luc Picard has invited Beverly Crusher to his quarters for dinner—not breakfast—but dinner. They have just partaken of a scrumptious gourmet meal, which he slaved over the replicator for minutes to prepare. They are now sitting on the couch, each occupying their own respective cushion, enjoying a fine vintage Chardonnay.
Jean-Luc Picard: I believe a toast is in order.
Beverly Crusher: A toast would be lovely, Jean-Luc.
JL: Shall I make one?
Bev: Alright.
JL: Suddenly becomes incredibly frisky. Playfully. Oh, so you'd like that? Would that make you happy? Hmmm? Raising an eyebrow, he looks at Beverly almost as if he is about to spring upon her the moment an affirmative issues from her lips.
Bev: She is dumbfounded at Picard's uncharacteristic behavior. Quickly raises glass. To our long-lasting friendship!
JL: Also raising glass. And to all the benefits it entails!
The two clink glasses and Bev takes a sip of wine while Jean-Luc downs his whole glass.
Bev: Jean-Luc, are you feeling all right?
JL: Why, Beverly, whatever makes you ask such a thing? Heartily and jovially. I feel fine! As a matter of fact, I feel better than I have in ages.
Bev: Nevertheless, I think I should scan you just to be sure.
JL: Oh, Beverly, how I've longed to hear you speak those words! I would love for you to scan me! Scoots towards her.
Bev: Oblivious to Picard's close proximity. Now I know something's not right—you normally hate physicals! It's all I can do to get you into Sickbay twice a year.
JL: As Benedick from Much Ado About Nothing. Peace! This will stop your mouth! He draws her into his arms and kisses her passionately.
Bev is completely taken by surprise. She seems to enjoy the moment, yet she pulls away from Jean-Luc.
JL: Why, whatever is the matter, Beverly?
Bev: I guess I'm just a little surprised, that's all.
JL: Shall we resume, then?
Bev: The longing in her eyes indicates that she desperately wants to yield to passion. Instead, she speaks. Wait. Gathers her wits for a speech. Jean-Luc, in all our years together aboard the Enterprise, have you ever seen me romantically involved with anyone?
JL: Now it's his turn to be thrown off guard. Well, uh, of course, of course I have.
Bev looks at him as if wanting him to elaborate.
JL: A bit uneasily. There was Ronin.
Bev: A ghost. Disgustedly, as she reminisces. Who made love to my grandmother.
JL: Yes, well, there was Odan.
Bev: A parasitic entity.
JL: Right…deep in thought…Aha! Me!
Bev: You? I don't seem to recall—
JL: Astounded. What? You don't remember that glorious moment that we shared in my ready room, you pressed against the wall, our lips—
Bev: Jean-Luc!! We were under the effects of the Tsiolkovsky virus!
JL: So?!
Bev: Exasperated that Picard is missing the point, she sighs, then: Don't you see? All—I mean both—of my romantic interests while serving as the Enterprise's CMO have been with non-human entities. Let me explain. When Jack passed away, I promised myself that I'd never fall in love with another man. After awhile, that promise became a little difficult to keep, if you know what I mean.
Picard nods his head vigorously. He knows.
Bev: I needed to have some sort of, of. Embarrassed, she comes out and says it. Some sort of lover. I didn't want to break my resolution, so I found ways around it, assuming that, in my promise, "man" refers only to human males.
JL: So, what you're saying is, you can't love me because I'm a man?
Bev: Of the same species as myself.
JL: Yes. An idea dawns on him. Can you wait here for just a minute? I'll be right back.
Picard nearly sprints to his bathroom, leaving Beverly to mull over her thoughts.
JL: To the replicator. One pair of prosthetic Vulcan ears, fair skin tone.
The pointed ears appear, and Picard dons them, adjusting them in the mirror. He then walks back into the living area with a hint of a confident swagger in his step.
Bev: Aroused from her meditation, she immediately notices Picard's new "look", and is clearly amused. You didn't tell me this was going to be a masquerade event!
JL: Look Beverly, I'm a Vulcan! You can make love to me!
With that exclamation, Picard throws himself onto a space on the sofa, which just happens to include part of Beverly. He commences kissing her again, this time plunging his hands into her luscious auburn hair as he does so. Just then, the door chime sounds. The two occupants of the room are rather engaged at the moment, so no notice is taken of the chime. Will Riker enters the room, phaser at the ready. Wesley Crusher just happens to be walking by the open door, and, being the curious little bugger that he is, Wes decides to peek into the Captain's private life. His eyes widen at the peculiar sight within, and he frantically runs down the corridor, looking for someone he can report his findings to. He nearly barrels into a very bewildered Deanna Troi, and she has to put her arms out to stop him from running smack into her chest.
Deanna Troi: Concernedly. Wes, why are you in such a hurry?
Wesley Crusher: Struggling to catch his breath, (he's not very athletic). It's—it's—my—
DT: With excited anticipation. Out with it, Wes! I sense extreme passion and desire somewhere on this deck, and I'm hoping to locate its source.
Wes: Having regained his breath, but not his composure. That's exactly what I want to tell you! I know where the passionate feelings are coming from!
DT: Walking toward Picard's quarters. Please, Wesley, I know that you are a child prodigy and can solve nearly every problem that we come across, but just because you already have this little quandary figured out, doesn't mean that I want you to ruin it for me.
Deanna, like a hound dog sniffing out a trail, comes to a halt in front of Picard's quarters. She is about to ring the chime when Riker comes out, blushing furiously.
DT: Will?! Looking around Will and into the room, she notices Bev and Jean-Luc on the couch, now in a rather inclined (though fully clothed) position. Oh my gosh!
Clapping a hand over her mouth to stifle a squeal, Deanna locks her arm in Riker's and drags him down the hall. Wesley follows behind.
DT: I knew it!!! I knew Bev and Captain Picard were in love! I just had no idea how deeply they were in!
Will Riker: Having come out of his initial shock, Will realizes that his superior officer is a tiger! Consequently, he bursts into laughter. I have never seen anything so funny before!
Wes: I'm scarred for life!
DT: Completely overlooking this prime opportunity to show off her counseling skills. Wait 'til I tell Bev—oops, I forgot—she already knows! More hysterical laughter.
Deanna and Will disperse to tell anyone they come across—especially the other senior officers—their juicy gossip. Wesley returns to his quarters to devise a memory-erasing device for himself.
Meanwhile, Picard has begun to unzip Beverly's wispy floral dress.
Bev: Coming around to her senses. Jean-Luc, wait. We can't do this.
JL: Oh, yes, of course. Heroically. You needn't worry, Beverly. I sneaked a Pill or two out of Sickbay when you weren't looking.
Bev: Half-amused. No, that's not it. I think it in our best interests to end our encounter just when it's heated up, the way we always do.
JL: Are you sure?
Bev: No.
They pick up where they left off.
Bev: After about 30 seconds, she pulls away. Now I'm sure.
JL: I suppose you're right. Although there really is no logical reason for us not to—He is met with a mock glare of disapproval from Bev. I suppose you're right.
Awkward pause. Jean-Luc beholds Beverly. Her dress is sliding off of one shoulder, her hair is tousled, her cheeks are flushed. Her eyes convey the desire of her heart that she is attempting to quell with her mind. Jean-Luc is using every speck of his willpower to refrain from ripping that dress off entirely.
JL: In a pitch a bit higher than usual. I—I'd best be going.
Bev: But these are your quarters!
JL: Right. Pause. Pardon me.
Jean-Luc races to his washroom. A moment later, the shower is heard, as well as whoops and exclamations of "Cold! Cold!". Bev rearranges herself, and, not trusting her own self-restraint, shouts a hasty farewell to Jean-Luc, and quickly returns to her own room.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Tune in next time for: "The Morning After"!
A/N: I can't and/or am not inclined to write a true love scene. My apologies to anyone who was expecting deeper P/C passion.