Star Trek: TNG: Q's Day Out

Chapter Four

"I've made breakfast," she called out to him, as she set out two plates of food on the table. She poured some coffee into two mugs and put them, also, onto the table.

Q at up from the sofa and approached her. He smirked when he saw the meal she had made.

Noticing his wry, amused smile, she commented, "What's so funny?"

"You've wasted your time," he replied. "I've all ready made it clear that I don't need food."

"A 'thank you' would go a long way," she murmured. "Anyway," she added, sighing. "You asked me out for coffee not so long ago."

"I did not ask you out for coffee," he snapped.

She raised an eyebrow. "Yes. You did." She gestured to the table and sat down. "It won't do you any harm to eat."

Agreeing, albeit, rather begrudgingly, Q shrugged and obeyed. He sat down opposite her and examined the contents of the plate before him.

She had already tucked into her meal hungrily, but Q was still just sat there rather stoically. He poked around the food on the plate curiously. "I guess it was a waste, then," she muttered.

"I don't like scrambled egg is all," he said flatly.

"Shame," she said. "You know, I didn't have to make you anything."

"You didn't," he said simply. "You could've used the time to spend more time on that novel of yours."

"I thought you said it was crap," she said.

Finally, Q started eating his meal and quite simply staring at it. "Dismal," he agreed. "Not that that means you shouldn't continue writing it."

She sighed and finished off her meal, getting to her feet and scraping the leftovers into the bin. She leant on the countertop and said, "I won't do that just to give you the satisfaction."

A started back, appearing offended. "You've offended me."

She blinked at him and stated. "I what?"

"I said, you've offended me," he repeated.

"Don't," she warned, as she took the meal from him and put it on the draining board. He looked up at her, in slight disgust. "I was enjoying that."

She moaned and tied her hair up in a messy pony tail. Q studied her curiously. "What are you planning on doing today?" she asked him.

Q, as always, was without much care. "Everything seems to... annoy you." But, before she could interject his rude statement, he added, "What suggestions do you have?"

"I need to go shopping," she replied. She opened and then closed the fridge door. "It's getting a little bare."

"You're not going out in that, are you?" he observed, looking at her.

She scoffed, and then calmed down. "What would you rather I wore?" she teased.

Q cleared his throat. "... That's up to you."

Half an hour after going to change clothes, she emerged wearing a T-shirt and jeans. He frowned when he saw her.

Catching sight of his gaze, she said, "Let me guess: another one of your criticisms?"

"Not at all," he simply replied, smiling. "I was just wondering why Frankie says relax."

For a moment, she simply stared at him stupidly. Then, her expression morphed into a laugh and she sighed, very amused. "Never mind." She picked up her purse and opened the door, watching him regrettably as he left.

"Where will we go?" he asked her, sounding particularly excited.

"Everything doesn't have to be an adventure, you know," she told him, in a slightly scathing town.

"Adventures are fun," he said, beaming at her. "And, this is fun."

She rolled her eyes and walked in awkward silence as the two of then walked down the high street. They approached a large car park, which was attached to an equally large shop. She picked up a basket once they had entered the building.

Yawning, she led him to the fruit aisle. "If you want to be helpful," she told him, "you can go and fetch some apples and... oranges."

"I didn't say I wanted to be helpful," he countered, smugly.

She harrumphed and said firmly, "You're so frustrating, has anyone ever told you that?"

Beaming proudly, he replied, "Everyone. All the time."

"Just get the fruit," she said exasperatedly.

Smilingly, he went off to get the fruit. When he returned to her, he gave her the objects roughly.

"Great," she moaned. "Now they're bruised."

"Oh, I do apologise," he said half-heartedly. "I'm just a little disturbed after that woman's odd looks."

"What woman?" she asked.

Q wrinkled his nose as he pointed over to an elderly woman in a far aisle. "Her."

"It's probably because you're dressed in that," she said, looking him over as he stood tall in the uniform of a 24th century Starfleet captain.

He frowned. "I rather like this."

"Then, don't worry about what other people think," she advised. "Just stay quiet and don't draw too much attention to yourself for the time being."

With mock obedience, he bowed his head and let her lead the way.

When they left the shop, they soon returned to her flat.

"Are you going to continue with your novel now?" he asked, grinning.

"I might as well," she finally decided.

She sat at her typewriter, after putting away the newly bought food, which Q didn't offer his help in sorting out. He leant down to watch her closely a she typed.

"Oh, that's not good," he muttered, observing.

"What isn't?" she wearily asked, stopping typing for a moment.

"This may take some time," he said. He saw her glower at him, so added, "But, change the setting."

"The what? The setting?" she asked, confused, and offended. "Why?"

"It just doesn't sit right with me."