Work Text
Once upon a midnight dreary, while he pondered, worn and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious problem of technologic lore -
While he nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a rapping
Of Italian oxfords tapping, tapping ‘cross his office floor.
“Oh, Q,” came the agent’s wheedling voice, which he struggled to ignore -
Quoth the boffin, “Nevermore.”“But Q,” began the query, and Q sighed as one so weary
Of creating cunning, clever weapons none had ever seen before
And then seeing them go missing, his blasted earwig hissing,
Because of that man's hit-and-missing, pissing away his stuff once more.
Sparkling eyes and teasing smile wanting more and more and more -
Quoth the boffin, “Nevermore.”“Your work has special merit, and I’ll bring it back, I swear it
Unless some wicked villain forces me into something I’d deplore.”
Q found his smile charming and his manner so disarming,
It was really quite alarming, harming his self-control once more.
Q stood firm against the onslaught recalling every time before. -
Quoth the boffin, “Nevermore.”“It could save my life, you know it; I’d be grateful and I’d show it
Over dinner and a good wine and then maybe something more" -
The agent purred, and he was smirking, his lips were gently quirking,
and something soft was lurking, lurking in eyes blue as heaven’s shore.
And entranced, Q yielded with a sigh from deep within his core,
Quoth the boffin, “Fine. Once more."