By (sigh) JA Chapman
Q/K Major Satire and a little Songfic PG-13 Disclaimer: Why? Do you want it? Obviously you haven't read it yet then.
KARAOKE AND Q
The DJ was hype, the floor was a wild sea of sweaty bodies, and the drinks weren't as watered down as usual. All in all, the night didn't suck too hard.
The omnipotent being sighed and took another swallow of his frozen fuzzy navel. Thinking about things sucking made him also think of his beloved Jean Luc.
"Make one little innocuous remark about Rogaine and Viagra canceling each other out and it's Couch City for Q," he muttered.
"Want another there, buddy?" The Klingon bartender asked as he wiped down the bar.
"Yeah," Q put the glass down with a decisive thunk, "Make the next one a frozen margarita-a double."
"Watch it, pal. A few more of these and you'll get frostbite," the Klingon chuckled.
"I'll give you frostbite, you turtle-headed son of a---" Q looked around himself, all previous thoughts of sending Wolf-boy's third cousin to Antarctica during the cold season forgotten as he heard the most beautiful voice imaginable echoing from the sound system. "Who is that?"
The barkeep cringed and rubbed the bridge of his nose in a defeated gesture. "Fuck. I should have known he'd come on karaoke night-why I offered to switch shifts with that Romulan guy, I'll never know."
"Who?" Q repeated as he sat up a little straighter, "Who is that?"
The singer's words washed over the crowd.and most of them weren't happy about it from the sounds of things. Still, a few people other than Q sat in awed silence as the distinctive start and stop tenor sang into the much-abused microphone.
"Lost, in love. and Idon'tknowmuch Was I thinking about? Fell.outoftouch But I'm back! On my feet! Eeeeager to be.what you.wanted."
The pot-bellied singer swiveled his hips making the audience moan. With desire or disgust, Q didn't know or care; all he knew was that next to his fuck bunny, Jean Luc, this man was the most desirable creature he'd ever seen.
Captain James T. Kirk winked flirtatiously to the audience as he traced the buttons of his green sequined captain's shirt with a single, sensuous finger.
"Youknowyoucan'tfoolme! I've been lllllloooooving you--too long! It started so.'easy' You want to carry on?"
"I must have him!" Q breathed in rapt fascination.
"You want him? Take him!" The Klingon spat a nasty curse toward the chanteuse in question, "Take him far, far away from my bar and quick! I'm starting to lose business here. Even the drunks in the alley next door are sobering up from this shit!"
Q practically floated toward the stage, his body tense with desire as he and Jim locked gazes. All the lyrics suddenly were about them.just them. They were alone in a sea of people. They were discovering one another through the power of music.
"Now I'm loooooooost, lost in love! Lostinlove! lost in loooooove! Now I'm lost, lost, lost, lost, lost, lost, lost, loooost, in LLLL-OVE! Lost. In love? Lost, in love. Lostinlove! LOST IN LOVE! Lo-awwwwwwwst in love. Lost. In. Lurve."
"Oh God, the humanity," a boozer said as he looked down into his empty glass.
Kirk stood tall then bent dramatically at his waist with a sweeping gesture, signaling the end of his performance. Half hearted applause followed him off the stage but one audience member was on his feet and shouting, "BRAVA! BRAVISIMO!" as flowers seemed to descend upon him from no where.
All eyes turned to the flushed and grinning Q, most of them looking at him as though he were out of his cotton picking mind. Jim's golden gaze traveled down his body from head to toe, causing Q's groin to tighten with images of naughty after hours adult entertainment.
"Hello there," Jim purred with a 'come fuck me hard against the wall with a dog collar and a jar of peanut butter because I could really use a snack about now and come to think of it a roast beef sandwich would taste really good, especially with a little Velveeta---ahem,' grin. "Why hello," Q returned with pouty, 'I've sucked dick and have cheese in my refrigerator, baby!' lips (aka 'a cheezy grin').
"Care to join me..at.my 'table'?" Kirk asked in his sexy start and stop way.
"Anywhere and any time, baby," Q winked.
Kirk responded with a come hither chuckle and the two men were soon seated at a dark corner table, strawberry daiquiris in hand.
"So, tell me about yourself," Jim looked him over again in heady perusal. "Are you in Starfleet?"
"Not exactly," Q shrugged, "I'm just your average god-like entity. I travel a lot, collect African masks, enjoy long walks on moonlit beaches, like foreign films, and occasionally cause the destruction of whole worlds just to break up the monotony of it all. You?"
"Well, I'm a Taurus, my favorite color is green, I have a thing for men with pointed ears who like teddy bears, and I don't wear underwear," he leered.
"What a coincidence, neither do I!" Q paused, "Then again I'm not even wearing clothes, this is just a projected image of myself as my true form would be far too complicated for most corporeal beings to understand."
"Oh yeah? How complete is this.'projection' of yours?" came the innuendo-laced drawl.
Q chuckled, "Very."
"You.seeing anyone?" Kirk twirled a curl on his toupee, causing it to shift slightly on his scalp. Q gasped in arousal as he caught a glimpse of bare, bald scalp.
"Uh.yes, er-no.um," Q shifted uncomfortably, "We're separated." file://Well, he isn't here right now. That counts, right?// came the guilty thought.
"I know how hard that can be," Kirk nodded in sympathy. "I haven't seen my boyfriend in almost a century. Travel delays in the Nexus are a real bitch even with priceline," Kirk suddenly turned toward the audience with a plastic grin, "Priceline.com: travel the known universe for less!"
"Riiiiight," Q gave him an odd look. Maybe he'd been sniffing a little too much toupee glue.
"Well, that's that," Kirk got up and leered down at his companion, "I'm horny! Your place or mine?"
Let's hear it for inhalants! "Uh, well, my place is currently occupied by a bald Frenchman who has access to weaponry so let's go to your place, okay?"
"You got it, stud," Kirk agreed, patting him on the derriere and leading the way out of the bar.
The bartender breathed a sigh of relief as he watched the two men leave. Next week he was definitely asking his boss to take him off the schedule on Thursdays. If he had to hear one more garbled version of 'Misty' he'd grab his bat'leth and make like Kahless on their asses.
Still, the romantic in him paused as he heard one man turn to the other just before the doors closed and say, "No offense or anything, but could you lose the head tribble? I'm into men with much scalpage."
*sigh* Who ever said romance was dead?
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