From Unexpected Places
By Djinn
You're keyed up, sitting in the lounge with no one to talk to. Ny went to bed long ago, Len's off with a new conquest, and you're not in the mood to chat up Chekov or Scotty.
"You're waiting," a husky voice, the sound of your savior—the captain who convinced you to give up ops and come back to the Enterprise.
"Waiting? For you, Jim?"
"Nope." He motions the crewman playing bartender over and orders the same single malt he had in the officer's club when he pitched you this opportunity. "For an emergency."
"Pretty sure those are your department now."
"And therein lies the problem." He holds up his glass and waits until you touch yours to it to say, "I went through this when I left the ship the first time and took a desk job. I kept...waiting for something to happen." His smile is gentle, and you realize he's right, that you were in emergency ops for so long you're not sure how to really just...turn off for the night.
No one's going to comm you in the middle of a dinner, or a date, or a deep desperate sleep.
Unless there's a shipwide emergency. But then everyone's going to get commed.
You're in a science billet now. You don't even have to worry about patients. Just...theoretical stuff. It's...
It's not boring. It's just really different and happens at such a different pace. And it's been years since you did this. Since miniscule changes mattered this much.
"What are you drinking?" he asks.
"I'm not even sure. I just asked for something strong in the whiskey family."
He laughs and tells the bartender to get you what he's having. "So, Commander Chapel, how is it being back aboard my ship?"
"It's different." You study him and see the disappointment in your answer so you grin and say, "You didn't let me finish. And it's like coming home."
"That's what I wanted to hear." He spins his stool so he's facing out, taking in the lay of the lounge. "I missed this when I was retired. So much. But...what did it take to get it?"
You know about his son. Len and Ny both told you versions. You've never heard it directly from him, though. "I'm sorry. Truly."
"I got Spock back. But lost my boy—and his mother. We were..." He takes a sip, his eyes narrowing.
"You were...?"
"I foolishly thought I was going to get my family back. Decades too late but finally. Carol was...open to trying. Until I got our son killed."
"You didn't get him killed."
He waves away the correction.
"No, Jim, I know what happened. That may be a closed file but some of us saw. Some of us know."
He nods but his smile is tight. "He was a lot like me. Took shortcuts." He takes a long sip. "Cheated."
"Now you're talking about the protomatter, aren't you?"
"Dead subject."
"Yes, it is. The Genesis device is too dangerous, so they quarantined the subject. So most people don't talk about protomatter because they don't even know about it. But for those of us who do, those of us who also understand the science behind it, well...it did work."
He looks at you, a question on his face.
"The device went off in a nebula. The base matter was unstable. It was always going to revert. Had it been a planet that met the original criteria..."
"It would have worked." He frowns. "Carol must know this."
"I'm sure she does. But if she's not allowed to play with it anymore, how likely is she to make it easier for someone else to run with her project?" You make a face. "I know her by reputation, Jim. She guards ferociously. Everything she considers hers."
He nods. Then he turns to meet your eyes. "But you know. So why doesn't Starfleet? You didn't tell them?"
"You saw what happened. We're not ready for that. Roger used to repeat Oppenheimer ad nauseam to us when we were headlong in discovery, not thinking of consequences. 'Now I am become death, the destroyer of worlds.' I don't want to become that. Someday, in the future, when we're ready, protomatter will be used again. I'm sure of it."
His smile is gentle. "Roger should have told that to himself before he tried to replace me with an android." Shaking his head, he laughs softly. "See, you're being nice and I say that. I'm on edge, too."
"Anything I can do?"
"Antonia's handling the sale of our cabin. It's this gorgeous place, up in the sierras. She keeps sending me stuff to sign. It's...got me cranky, I guess. Losing that place."
"I'm sorry." You're not sure what to say. You heard about the woman from all your friends. Gorgeous. Sweet. But ultimately not enough to hold him and not willing to share him with the stars.
What was it with the women he picked? He's in Starfleet. What part about space being part of the job is unclear?
"So," he says with a laugh, "aren't you glad I wandered over here to cheer you up?"
"Actually, yes. I've always felt like you understand me. And you never tease me about Spock."
"He interested?"
"Not a bit."
"Eh. His loss."
"Damn strait, toots."
His grin is gorgeous. "Another round?"
"Why not?"
##
"Have I told you how glad I am to have you back?" Ny's sitting on your bed, legs curled up under her. You think it's unfair how little she's aged over the years.
"You have. But say it again. I don't mind hearing it."
"Well, I am." She holds out her glass and you pour her some more of the Jevendian liqueur you both fell in love with on the first voyage. "Mmm, this is so good. We need to get Jan up here."
"Yeah, that's not going to happen. Not so long as our beloved captain sticks to his policy about the crew being off limits."
Ny leans back, sighing dramatically, and you laugh. "I think he's going to be getting together with Gillian. The woman who helped us with the whales."
"I know who Gillian is. I sat with her at the hearing. So did Jan. She seems okay."
"Sure she is. Off on a science vessel instead of taking care of George and Gracie—doesn't she realize how important they are? If that probe comes back... Anyway, how in the hell does she rate a science posting?"
You start to laugh.
"What's so damn funny?"
"It's not a science vessel. It's Science Vessel. Remedial training. She's not even really Starfleet." Roger used to make jokes about sending you to the ship when you screwed up something.
"Ohhh. Well, that makes a lot more sense. But still, don't you think she should've stayed with the whales? I mean she hitched a ride because none of us knew anything about humpbacks. Then she just leaves them?"
"Are you annoyed with her on behalf of the humpbacks or because Jim's seeing her?"
"The former. He can see who he wants." She shakes her head at you. "I'm with Scotty, remember?"
It's actually hard for you to remember that because you really don't get it. Scotty's a genius with an engine, but you've never considered him someone you'd want to date. But Ny seems happy and he's devoted to her. "Things going okay with him?"
"They are." She shakes her head slightly, the earrings she's wearing sparkling prettily even in the low light. "He got me these."
"Generous and smart."
"Yep, he's a keeper."
You think she's saying that as if she's trying to convince herself as much as you. You don't point that out.
"You're with Jim a lot." She sounds like she's fishing.
"Yeah, he's fun to talk to."
"But you're still interested in Spock, right?"
You roll your eyes. "Interested, maybe. Chasing him, hell no. I've lived that life once already."
"He might be open to it. He's been through a lot. That can change a person."
"Yes, being reborn will change a person." You laugh at her expression. "Do you want me to be that Christine again? The one that whines about him not loving me?"
"No, but I think you should at least explore the possibility. I might if I wasn't otherwise engaged."
"Mmm hmm." You find yourself yawning, not because she's boring you, but because you're finally settling down—and into this new routine.
A routine blessedly free of constant emergencies.
"I think I need to hit the rack," you say after another yawn hits.
She downs her drink. "I can't believe you're finally going to beat me to bed for once. I was a little worried that you weren't sleeping at all. You took a lot of stims in ops, didn't you?"
"On occasion. We all did. But it's not like we lived on them." And you haven't taken any since you reported in and don't miss them.
"Well, whatever the reason, you seem like the Christine I used to know. Not someone always looking like a flitter was about to run her over."
You decide not to tell her that more than one person in ops has been hit by flitters because they were exhausted or refused to stop trying to help someone in time to get out of the way. Instead, you just smile as she hands you her glass and leaves you in peace.
##
You sit across from Spock. He's behind his desk and you're in the visitor seat. You're unsure why he wanted to see you.
It's not to woo you, that's for sure. Assessing your feelings, you aren't terribly disappointed.
You think he might want you to fill in the silence, but you've learned not to. So you sit, trying to keep the look on your face expectant, not impatient.
Finally, he says, "As you know, I am in charge of the science section personnel."
As first officer, he's in charge of everyone else, too. You don't say that. "Yes, sir."
"I have had good reports of you."
That's funny, since you've done very little by ops standards. "Good," you settle for saying.
"I believe, however, you are perhaps not as challenged as you could be."
Is he saying you're slacking off? He's right, you are. But is he really saying that? "Sir?"
"Commander Wilson is leaving."
"Oh." Your boss. The head of life sciences. "And you think I..."
"I do. Jim agrees. Do you want this position, Christine?"
Christine. Your first name. But he's still so stiff. "Yes, Spock, I do." He doesn't flinch at your use of his name without the "Mister" you always slapped at the start in the past. Then again, you're going to be one of his section chiefs, so why would he? "Do you want me to want this position?"
He seems to understand what you're saying. "Yes. What you are doing now is a waste of resources."
"I don't disagree." You narrow your eyes. "Was this the plan? Because I've come to realize this posting I'm in now was never going to fulfill me."
"The captain and I both tend toward the long view."
"Were you going to let me in on the plan?" You're irritated and you aren't sure why. This is how things happen. People plan subordinates' futures all the time based on needs and potential and history.
"I believe that is what I'm doing." He lifts an eyebrow.
"And I'm being a jerk about it. Sorry." You lean in. "Yes, I'd like the position. Thank you for your faith in me."
"Christine, my father speaks very highly of your performance on missions he has shared with you. He does not bestow praise lightly."
"Maybe I'm just good with Vulcans?"
He gives you a dubious look.
"Maybe I'm just good with that Vulcan." You can't help it; you laugh. "Can we start this over? I think I've hit rock bottom and have begun to dig."
His expression lightens. "Our history has been...complicated. We will learn to relate in perhaps a more uncomplicated manner this time?"
"Yes. I would like that."
"As would I. Dismissed, Commander."
##
You see Jim in the mess and stride over with your tray. "This seat taken?"
He laughs. "Given the expression on your face, I'd like to say yes." But he waves you down.
You sit and take the time to get the things you don't want off your sandwich and the things you do want in.
"Wouldn't it be easier to just order it the way you want?"
"You'd think so, wouldn't you? But it's not. Trust me." You see he's eying your tomatoes. "You want?"
He nods and you push them onto his plate, then add the cheese you order extra to the sandwich.
"Why not just order a bacon and cheese sandwich with lettuce instead of a BLT and then go through all this?"
"Different bacon. Not sure why—maybe because a BLT is simpler and calls for higher quality meat. I just know this bacon is better." You sigh happily at the first bite. "So, Spock talked to me."
"Ah. That's what that look was. Are you going to take the job?"
"Of course I'm going to take the job. But why didn't you tell me you wanted me for that job."
"It's going to sound stupid. Spock basically told me it was idiotic, when I told him not to let on to you the position was coming open and you were our first choice."
You wait.
"You left my ship twice, Chris. I wanted to think you were coming back because you like it here, that you like the way I run a ship. I didn't want you returning solely for a really good job." He shrugs and gives the smile that could charm the birds out of the sky.
"Are you that insecure?"
His smile changes to an amused one. "That's your response? You're supposed to be touched." He points at the pickle on your plate. "You going to eat that?"
"No. Go for it."
He spears it with his fork. "Anyway, that's the actual truth. I wanted you here for me and for your friends and because this is a really good ship. Because somewhere in you is loyalty. Not because you're ambitious. But if you are ambitious, that's fine—I like it, in fact." He grins. "Told you it wouldn't make a lot of sense."
"It does, actually. So much of my early success was tied to Roger. I was never sure how much of what I got was due to me and how much was his championing of me. You were the first person after he disappeared to just...believe in me."
"You were convincing." His eyes are gentle. "And your story was compelling. Lost love. How could I not?"
"Some captains would have told me love and career are two different things."
"Well then you picked the right guy to snooker, toots." He laughs. "So are we okay?"
"Of course we're okay. It's a fantastic opportunity."
"Glad we got that settled, then." He's staring at your sandwich. "I'm going to test your theory about the bacon being different. You know that, right?"
"I have no doubt you will."
##
"Well, you don't look very happy for someone who just saw a newish flame." You sit and motion for the bartender to bring you what Jim's having. It's a testament to how often you've done this that the barkeep doesn't even look to Jim for confirmation he can go into the special stock. "So, Jim, what gives?"
He doesn't answer, just keeps drinking. His expression is the one you've come to characterize as pissy.
"Gillian a no show?"
"No. She showed."
You frown. "You chicken out? Couldn't land the girl? You?"
He laughs. "No. I got the job done."
You sit quietly, nursing your drink, enjoying how good his favorite scotch is, and he finally says, "Sometimes connections are situation specific."
You don't say anything, just lean on your elbow in an "I'm all ears" way.
"It's that feeling when you know there was a spark. You know it. And you're glad to see each other. And the sex is...fine. But..." He sighs. "But there's so little communicating going on that it's not really fine. Whatever chemistry you had when you were trying to accomplish a joint endeavor is gone."
"Was it just you, or her, too?"
"Oh, her, too. We agreed not to give it another try."
"I'm sorry. And I completely understand. We had an acronym for it in ops. EHUs."
He mirrors your position, stretching his elbow out and leaning on his hand. "EHUs?"
"Emergency Hook Ups. Fun at the time. But at the end just a big old 'What the hell was I thinking?'"
He starts to laugh, his normal charm reasserting itself as his grin comes back. "I like it. I might use it."
"You can." You study him. "I wish..."
"You wish what?"
"That I'd heard about it from you before the fact. Not from Len when I asked where you were." You don't tell him you heard it from Ny before that—he has no need to know what you two talk about. "I mean...we've been spending time. I taught you about the great bacon workaround."
He laughs. "You were right about that."
"Never doubt me and bacon. So, I guess—friends tell friends things, right?"
He doesn't look away, even seems to be assessing you. "It felt weird to tell you."
"Weird how? Like I'd judge?"
"No." He sighs. "Weird I don't know. Just weird."
"Hmmm. I recognize we're new friends, and I have no need to know your business. But..." You look away. "I wanted to know."
He doesn't say anything as he cocks his head and studies you, his expression one you can't interpret, but he doesn't look annoyed.
"Jim, maybe now is when you tell me to back off, grab a little of that ops professionalism you liked so much before you brought me on board, and remember you're my captain first."
"I am your captain first. But backing off? No, don't do that."
"I could read that a lot of ways."
He starts to smile, a one-sided smirk that you decide you like because it's good natured and amused rather than creepy. "I like you. I'm glad you're here to help me bury my hopes around this."
"Hopes, huh? How far did you think you and Gillian were going to go?"
"I don't know. Farther than we did." He puts his head down on his arm. "I have shitty luck, Chris."
"My romantic resume isn't exactly a 'how to' manual, either, Jim." You set your hand on his back for a moment and feel him press back into your touch. "I'm going to leave you. I'm beat." And you think it's safer to go. Because you know his rules and you don't want to start feeling things that can't go anywhere.
"Good night, Chris." He throws back his drink and calls for another
You leave him to it.
##
You make your way to sickbay. You've been enlisted as temporary staff during this shipwide epidemic and you're dead on your feet.
Len looks up as you come in. He looks like shit. You know you do, too. "All done?"
You nod and collapse into one of the chairs that's been moved into the main bay.
"You're still the fastest hypo in the west." He grins. "LaNella and Sanvok haven't finished yet."
"Yay, me."
He walks over. "One more shot and then I want you to collapse."
You nod. "Who's the victim?"
"Our esteemed captain." At your face, he laughs softly. "It hasn't escaped my notice that you two spend quite a lot of time at the bar. He'll listen to you—hell, I listen to you and I'm the world's worst patient."
You hold out your hand for the hypo he's filled.
"Try and get him off the bridge and to his quarters because he needs sleep—I may have added a cough suppressant that will definitely cause drowsiness. Spock's fine; he's got it under control."
"As we'd expect from our first officer."
"You seem over him. You're too tired to be cagey about liking him, and there's no rise out of you when I mention him."
"Even I can grow up, Len." You force yourself to your feet and head for the lift, riding it to the bridge. Jim smiles when he sees you.
Spock actually looks relieved and stares pointedly at Jim as if you don't know who you're there for.
"You look like crap," Jim says when you're close enough for the words to be just between you—and probably Spock. Damn Vulcan hearing.
"Thank you," you say just as softly. "I'd return the favor, but even sick you look like a god."
He grins, but it's an exhausted one.
"What say you give Spock the conn, and we mosey on down to your place where I'll shoot you full of antiviral goodness?" You're trying for funny but you're too damn tired, trying and failing to hold back a yawn.
And that seems to be the thing that gets him moving. "Spock—"
"Aye, Captain." He doesn't even let Jim finish, just nods to you as he takes the chair. "Commander."
"He wanted me gone hours ago." Jim sags against the wall of the lift. "Damn, I'm beat."
"Me, too." You want nothing more than to sink to the floor of the lift and curl up and sleep for days. But that would be stupid and who knows what's on the floor.
You follow Jim out of the lift and to his quarters, and he's wearing the uniform shirt you really like, the white one that shows off his arms, so you can just give him the shot without having to roll up long sleeves.
"You really are exhausted," he says softly.
You nod, suddenly too tired to form words. The walk back to your quarters seems endless.
He steers you to his personal area, pushes back the cover, tells you to take your boots off, and leaves you to crawl into his bed while he uses the bathroom.
When he comes out, you're still sitting on it. "I shouldn't sleep here."
"Then, don't. But I'm not rescuing you if you only get halfway to your quarters."
You figure both of you are too tired for something to happen that would damage your friendship, so you crawl into the bed and roll to your side.
He gets in and pulls the covers over you, staying carefully, you think, on his side of the bed.
You're out in moments. When you wake, Jim is spooning you, and you think how nice it feels to be this way with him.
And then you fall asleep again and the next time you wake up, Jim's out of bed and sitting at his desk working.
"Sorry," you say, as you free yourself from the covers. "I should have been out of here already."
"Don't be silly. You needed the sleep." He looks up at you, as you try to decide what your next move should be. Then he smiles. "You're pretty when you wake up."
You're relatively certain the small amount of makeup you dashed on the day before is smeared all over your face. "You're obviously an easy grader."
"Actually, I'm not."
You know you're blushing. "I'm going to go. Have a job to get back to."
"Are you still tired?"
"Yeah."
"Then go back to your quarters and sleep. If Spock has a problem with that, tell him his boss said it was okay."
"I will if you'll stay in here and rest."
"I was just about to crawl back into bed." He's not looking at you as he says it, but you feel the words landing heavily in the space between you.
"Okay, I'm going now."
"Right." He looks up and studies you. 'I'm really glad you came back here, Chris. To the ship. To...me."
"Me, too." Then you flee before you lose your mind and crawl back into his bed with him.
##
You're sitting with Ny and Scotty, trying to figure out if she's really in love with him. They remind you of high school, after someone you weren't already dating asked you to prom, and you felt compelled to act like there was more than just a dance between you. For a week or maybe two there was the weird waltz of "We like each other" until you realize you didn't want to be anything more than friends, and everything went back to normal.
Except it's been a while, and she's still with Scotty.
"Lass, are you glad to be back on the finest ship in the Fleet?" Scotty's well into his cups.
"Oh, am I on Excelsior?" You laugh at his expression. "Kidding. Of course, I am. Best ship, best crew, best captain."
"Aye, you've got that right." He gets up. "Another round, on me."
You nod but Ny says, "I'm switching to ginger ale."
Once he's out of earshot, she leans in. "So, what's going on?"
You hate loaded questions like that. She's a pro at it. You used to fall for it. General probing becoming an actual issue once you address something for her to latch onto. So now you just say, "With what?"
"With you?"
You almost laugh. She's so good at this. "What do you mean?"
"Christine. I was on the bridge the other night when you got the captain to finally rest."
"Oh, God, Ny, I'm sorry. I was exhausted. Len sent me up to get him and that was all I could see. I just wanted to collapse and sleep." Not a lie. And you did just that—just not in your bed.
"You saw Spock, too. Just not me or Sulu. I guess you're used to that now? The brass are more interesting than us regular folks?"
She thinks you're brown nosing? You suppose that's better than her knowing you spent the night with the guy who supposedly doesn't do that sort of thing. "I was wrecked, Ny. I'm sorry I didn't see you. It wasn't because of their rank. I just wanted to make sure Spock was doing all right before I left."
She smirks, but this is more like old times. "Now, that I believe. Speak of the devil."
Jim and Spock come in and head to the table with their chess board. Spock looks single minded, but Jim scans the room, stopping when he sees you.
His smile is sweet. Super, duper, make-your-toes warm sweet.
"Well, well. I know a certain blonde friend of ours who's gonna kill you."
"He's just making sure I'll stay on the ship this time." You roll your eyes at her expression.
"Don't lie to me. Do you like him? You think Scotty hasn't told me how often you end the night drinking with the captain?"
"Of course I like him. He's James T. Kirk. But he's not..."
Jim looks over at you again. You think this time he might not be aware he's doing it.
"Christine. Please." She seems...fine with it. But she's a master of sounding calm and composed.
"I'm honestly not sure what's going on. But yeah, I like him. We're having fun getting to know each other again. Talking. That's probably all this is. He'll move on."
"You do realize all his girlfriends have been scientists, right?"
"Not all. There was that lawyer woman." And Miramanee, but that wasn't Jim in his right mind. And Edith, but that seems too sad to bring up.
"Fine. A large percentage of his significant others have been scientists."
You cannot argue with this statement and she laughs as you do the shrug-nod of Chapel surrender.
Scotty comes back with the drinks. "What did I miss?"
"Not a thing, Sugar."
You wonder how much they'll talk about this when they're alone.
##
The lounge looks like a wonderland. Little lights are everywhere, some anchored, others floating. There are flowers and even a little fountain. The dance floor is crowded with crew in formalwear.
"Wow, this is amazing, Ny."
She looks smug and she should. You've never seen a lounge look better and you've been to a lot of shindigs in your time.
"I just wanted to dress up and dance, you know? In a magical place." She spins to take in her handiwork—or more accurately, the vision she had others implement. Her dress is gorgeous and pieces of crystal pick up the light.
"Fair lassie," Scotty says, looking dapper in his kilt. "Might I have this and many other dances?"
She pretends to have to think about it, then giggles as he hustles her to the dance floor.
"I wouldn't have seen that working, Nyota and Scotty," Len says in your ear as he presses a glass of something amber into your hand. "But they seem really happy."
"They do." You take a sip. "Rye. You remembered."
"That you're some kind of northern heathen who doesn't appreciate bourbon?"
"George Washington made rye. He lived in Virginia. And when haven't I ever appreciated bourbon?"
"That's true. I just like getting digs in."
"Old news there, Len." You study him. "No new conquest?"
"Oh, there is. Just not here yet."
"You ever going to settle down?"
"I did that once, remember? She took me for all I was worth. Now, I just play." He seems to be studying you. "I'm not the settling down kind. Unlike, say, our captain."
You force yourself not to react.
"I saw you coming out of his room the other day. You were just supposed to deliver the hypo, not..."
You laugh. "I fell asleep—you know I was dead on my feet. It wasn't...that."
He nods as if allowing your version into his personal reality. "But you like him. And he likes you. I've seen the two of you chatting it up."
Your turn so you can really see him. "What are you doing?"
"I don't want him leaving this ship anytime soon. Not now that I have all my marbles back and none of Spock's." He grins. "And the thing he's lacked up to now is someone on this ship keeping him happy so he doesn't do some fool thing like retire or take a desk job."
"Perhaps he lacked that because he doesn't mess in his nest."
"In the past, sure. But now? Things change." He grins. "Why, here he comes. Want to wager on which of us he's going to ask to dance?" He takes your glass. "Jim, she'd love to dance."
"Thanks, Bones." He's got you by the hand, gently easing you onto the dance floor, murmuring, "Did you want a say in this?"
"Nope, I'm good." You laugh at his smile. God damn this man is handsome. Why didn't you have a crush on him when you were both young?
"I didn't expect peach to be the color you'd be wearing. But you look beautiful."
The dress is an old one. But it's a favorite of yours. Flattering in the way it hides problem areas. Pleated like an old Grecian gown with ivory accents.
He holds you like you've done this before. Dancing with him is easy and you relax into him.
"The captain has to dance with whoever asks, right?"
He nods. "And find the shy ones who don't ask so they don't feel left out. I'll be a busy man." He makes a self-sacrificing expression.
"What you do for the mission." You squeeze his hand gently and he squeezes back. "My loss."
"Oh, I'll be back for you. More than once."
"Repeated dancing might send a message you don't mean to send."
He pulls you a little closer, his breath warm on your ear. "Who says I don't want to send that message?"
"Why Captain, you'll make a girl think you're serious."
"If you were a girl, and not a woman I like very much, I wouldn't be serious." He sighs as the music winds down. "I'd like to keep dancing with you."
"I'd like that, too."
"I'll see you in a while. Keep your dance card open. Consider it an order."
"Aye, aye, sir."
You can't see Len, so you make your way over to where Spock is standing since he's holding a glass of what looks like rye. You assume Len saddled him with your drink. "Are you the designated coaster?" You point to the glass.
He hands it over. "Doctor McCoy indicated you would want this."
"He's rarely wrong when whiskey is the subject."
"Indeed." Spock's in a robe instead of his uniform, but looks as uncomfortable as you remember from past voyages.
"You learn to dance since we last served together?"
"Assuming I do not know how to dance simply because I do not participate is an erroneous leap in logic I would not expect from you."
"Mom insisted you learn, huh?"
"Yes."
You laugh. "Relax, Spock. I'm not going to proposition you or ask you to dance."
"It is not you I am worried about, Christine. There is a young ensign in supply who is quite determined."
You take a long sip of your drink. Mmm, damn good stuff Len's picked for you—you'll have to ask him what it is. You've mostly been drinking Scotch when you and Jim are at the bar. "So I've lost my role as your chief stalker?"
"So it would seem." He almost sounds disappointed, but you assume that's because his new stalker puts you to shame in the obsessed department.
"So is this ensign male, female, or other?"
"The latter. A Tralaxian."
"I've heard good things about them." You laugh at his expression. "Which I'll keep to myself."
"Thank you. They are transferring off in a few weeks so my discomfort will be short lived." And then he asks you about the section and how you're liking being chief and for the next half dozen or so songs, you're content to just talk science with him.
But then Jim is back. "Can I steal her?"
"That would assume that I have some sort of possession of her, Jim."
"Just say yes, Spock." He rolls his eyes and takes your hand, pulling you back to the dance floor, but he stops just short of it. "Should I be worried? You liked him first." He's teasing but there's something serious in his eyes.
And suddenly you want nothing more than to put his mind at ease. So you opt for no joking, no flirting, no coy misdirection and simply say, "Nope. Don't worry."
His grin is gorgeous as he pulls you into his arms to dance. "Damn good answer, Chris."
##
You take a long sip of scotch as you wait for the comm terminal to connect you to Jan. Going through your mind is "Please don't be mad. Please don't be mad. Please don't be mad."
"Hey, you." She's smiling, but the smile slips as she studies you. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing. I'm good. You?" God, could your voice go any higher?
"Chapel, what is it?"
She's seen you at your best and at your worst and at every stop in between. She knows you too well for you to hide anything from her. And she only calls you Chapel when she's intent on getting the truth out of you.
"You remember a long time ago when we promised if either of us ever—"
"No way." Her voice is amused, not mad. "Kirk?"
"Nothing's happened." You meet her eyes. "But..."
"But it might?" She leans in. "Did you start this or did he?"
You think about it. "He did. Well..."
"Okay, if you don't know then it must be the real thing." She holds up a hand. "Hang on. Let me get my drink." She disappears and then reappears with an entire bottle of wine but no glass.
You break out laughing.
She grins and pulls out a glass. "Okay, so I'm only going to say this once. If you hurt him, I'll kill you."
"If I hurt him?"
"Yep. I'll tell him the same thing someday too if this really becomes something. And if I ever see him. I should have been the one to transfer. Shit."
You laugh because she's making this so easy.
Wait, why is she making this so easy?
"What aren't you telling me?"
She shrugs in that way she does when she wants you to guess.
"Jan...?"
"Okay, fine. Remember Jack, that consultant that we both thought was super handsome and smart and funny."
"Uh yeah."
"Well, we're dating. I ran into him and one thing led to another..." She smiles and looks really happy. "So you're off the hook, lady. But man, timing is everything, huh? Because I'd be clubbing you over the head with this bottle otherwise."
"I'm sorry."
"No, you're not." She leans in. "Is he a good kisser?"
"I don't know."
"Whaaaa-aat?"
"It's early. We promised we'd tell the other as soon as we suspected."
"How do you know it's anything if there's been no kissing. Or did you have sex with no kissing? Is he against kissing? Does he have a lip phobia?"
You're laughing so hard you can't answer.
"Seriously, Chapel, you're off your game. Go kiss the man."
"Howzabout you let me run my romance at my speed?"
"Fine. Be that way." She pours herself a glass of wine. "Okay, I want all the dirt on everyone. Is Ny still with Scotty?" She makes a little face that you think you're probably mirroring back as you nod.
You settle in to get her up to speed on all the gossip and let her fill you in on the ops goings on.
"I really miss you," you say as she finishes telling a particularly funny story about a captain you both despise.
"I miss you, too, kid."
##
You're in your office when you hear a soft knock on the wall and see Jim standing in the doorway. "Come in, sir."
He smiles and you think it's because on duty you don't use his first name. "Commander." He sits. "I need a science officer for the upcoming signing ceremony at Fohlara. I'd like to take you."
"Spock busy?"
"The signing ceremony will include a barbeque that will put Bone's brisket to shame. And as you well know, Spock doesn't eat meat."
"Durrance has been in place longer than I have."
"A month or so, that's all. Also, he's not the most sociable of fellows."
You try to bite back a smile and fail. The section chief of physical sciences makes Spock look like a screaming extrovert. "Fine, I'll go."
"Good." He doesn't get up, just sits, looking at you intently.
"Sir?"
He stands and hits the switch that closes your door. "I'm not going to sneak around. If we're going to pursue this."
"If? Are you unsure?"
"I'm not. Are you? I'm your captain. I don't want this to seem...like I'm forcing it. You tell me to slow down or stop, and I will." He's pacing, like he's actually worried you might feel pressured.
"I appreciate that. But I'm enjoying spending time with you." You smile when he turns. "I'd like to do more. But...can I ask why it's suddenly okay? It wasn't before. Your rule was well known among the crew."
"I suppose you got an earful from Janice?"
You shrug—no way you're discussing her with him.
He sits and takes a deep breath. "I lost everything, Chris. My son. My ship. Before that my two best friends were dead or going mad. Then I had Spock back but...he wasn't like he is now, and the rest of us were exiled on Vulcan for three months. I was going crazy. I was sure I'd spend the rest of my days in the brig if I ever returned."
"I know. It's why I called Sarek for you."
"Why did you do that for me?"
"Jim, I know I left the ship—and you take that personally—but you shouldn't. I cared for you. As a captain. As a man I'd seen hurt in sickbay. As the man who lost his wife and child—and then lost his son years later. As the man who covered up what Roger had become. Even if I didn't think so highly of you, I'd owe you for that alone."
He nods and for a moment looks down. Then he starts talking again, softly. "They didn't throw me in the brig. They gave me this ship. Again. The Enterprise. And I realized that they weren't going to take it away—and even if they did, I'd survive it. So if I think I've found someone really special that I want to break my rule for, I'm going to do it."
"An uncharitable person might say I was a rebound. From Carol, then Gillian."
"Do you feel like a rebound?"
"You haven't even kissed me yet."
"Exactly. We have time, Chris. We're here, not in different spaces trying to cram a relationship into a few shared days. I'm not rebounding. I'm exploring. Finding out who you are. Who we are together. If this works."
"It would have worked better if I were still in medical." You grin to show him you're okay that it's a little trickier now that you're not independent.
"You have a reputation for doing what's right, even bucking the brass if it's needed to get the job done. And you work for Spock. How much do you think I can influence him? He's as stubborn as Bones." He takes your hand. "We can transfer you to medical if it'll make it easier." He has a silly look on his face and is clearly trying not to laugh.
"That's okay. I like this job."
"Good. It suits you. So if you're up for this outing, dress uniform at the end of shift? I know it'll be a long day but the meal will more than make up for it. And they hate lengthy speeches so it shouldn't be too boring."
"Even if it is, I'll survive." After slogging through mud—or worse, bodies—this would be a cake walk.
##
As you hide behind a metal holding tank, you're desperately wishing you had a phaser. "I thought you said this would be boring."
"I thought it would be." Jim pushes you further under cover as he comms the ship. "Kirk to Enterprise. What's going on up there?"
Spock answers. "It would seem the Klingons take issue with the signing ceremony, sir. We are dealing with them."
"Deal faster. Kirk out." A few more blasts come raining down from the sky, then it goes quiet. "Thank God."
You're facing the opposite way he is and don't like what you see. "Crap, Jim, come on!" You pull him with you and he doesn't even question, just follows, until he must see what you do and starts to outrun you. He's pulling wreckage from the pavilion that was erected over the signing table. A pavilion some had taken shelter under.
You're helping him and you see Fohlarans rushing in to help also. Several dignitaries crawl out from the rubble, but you see another further in and not moving. "Don't let that thing fall on me," you say as you crawl into the space.
You feel Jim pushing something into your hip and reach back. It's a device the Fohlarans use that seems to serve a wide range of purposes, including a flashlight.
You hear Jim say, "Clear this carefully," as you continue to crawl toward the woman who is awake but clearly pinned down.
"It's okay. I'm a doctor." You play with the device and thank whatever deity looks after these people that science is their passion because there's a medical scanner among other sensors. You run it over her. Her leg is crushed and will require massive reconstruction but it's free of whatever hit her. It's her upper torso that worries you, a beam has fallen on her side, angled up so it's full weight isn't on her but still even partial crush injuries on vital organs are tricky, so you want that area freed as quickly as is safe. Her head and lower torso only seemed to be hit by small rubble. "Jim, clear the right side first."
"Roger that."
"Just hold on," you tell the woman, and then back away so you can help clear the area.
"Hell of a first date," Jim whispers as you work next to him.
"Is that what this is?" With a wry smile, you shake your head. "Seems like old times. I thought I'd left this behind."
"I know. Sorry. Although not sorry because you're the person I'd want with me for this."
You nod and stop gabbing, concentrating on getting the debris clear, and when they get closer to her, you're about to crawl in but one of the Fohlarans beats you to it. "The beam that's angled up across her?"
He nods.
"Make sure it doesn't come down if we loosen it—let us know if it starts to go." Fohlarans are stronger than humans so this isn't unreasonable to ask him to shore it up.
"Spock to Kirk."
"Can you get that, Chris?"
You grab the communicator off his belt and say, "Chapel here."
"The Klingons have been routed. Do you need assistance?"
The man inside the rubble is calling out, and a moment later he gingerly moves the woman to the opening.
"We're okay, Spock." You realize that's not really your call to make, even if it feels like old times when you were in charge, and hand the communicator to Jim with a sheepish smile.
He takes it with a grin, going off to talk to Spock without a lot of Fohlarans listening in, but you stay to help them with the woman.
A Fohlaran healer pushes through, and you introduce yourself and brief her on what you've seen. She nods as you talk, scanning with a device more elaborate than the all-purpose one you've been using.
"If you don't need me...?"
"We'll be fine. Thank you."
You wander the area, using the device to make sure there aren't others buried but most of you were lucky—or else the Klingons weren't trying that hard.
Although Jim should have been under the pavilion just about when they fired along with the Fohlaran prime minister. And they hate him after Genesis. Maybe this was more about him and less about the accord he was supposed to sign.
You turn to watch him, and he seems to sense your eyes on him, glancing around as he talks to Spock, his smile tight but still there.
You suddenly care very much that the Klingons might want to hurt him.
He stows his communicator and walks over to you. "I don't like your look."
"They could have done more damage. They were aiming for the pavilion."
"Yeah. Must have gotten wind I was here. Never going to forgive me for stealing one of their ships and then saving Earth with it." He gives you a breezy grin as if this is no big deal. "I thought we'd worked out some of our issues after Nimbus III. I guess I thought wrong." He takes your hand and pulls you out of the way of some men with an antigrav stretcher. "I saw you checking—anybody else hurt?"
"Nope. I'm glad you weren't up there."
"If the prime minister hadn't wanted to discuss a private matter, we would have been."
"What was his private matter?"
"If I thought there might be a market in the Federation for a Fohlaran spirit. It's mediocre but I find myself remembering it fondly since it was a literal lifesaver." He takes a deep breath.
"Captain, forgive the urgency, but I think we should dispense with ceremony and simply sign, don't you?" The prime minister gives him a harried smile. Once Jim's put his thumb over the signature block, the prime minister motions for a servant holding a bottle of orange liquid to come forward. "You seemed to enjoy this."
"Thank you." Jim even sounds sincere.
"Unfortunately, our food pavilion was hit during the attack. I regret there will be no meal to enjoy."
"Another time, then, sir. I look forward to a less exciting party the next time I'm here."
The man laughs softly but then his expression turns somber and he turns to his people, hurrying away.
"Let's get out of here." Jim takes your hand as he leads you to a spot well out of the way of the cleanup. "Enterprise, two to beam up."
"Two to beam up, aye, sir."
The familiar feel of the transporter takes you. Once out of the transporter room, he says, "I need to get up to the bridge."
You realize your uniform is torn—you must have caught it when you were crawling in the rubble cave. "Do you need me?"
"No, go get changed. I'll pop in later after I've washed off this dust." He hands you the bottle. "See if you can figure out a way to make this better than mediocre."
You laugh and head for the far lift while he takes the closest one to the bridge. Once in your quarters you strip, throw your clothes in the recycler and take a quick shower. Then you throw on comfy sweats and a t-shirt and assess the bottle Jim's given you.
It smells a bit bitter, and when you pour out a bit to taste, you decide it reminds you of the amaro your roommate in college used to bring back from trips to Italy. It's not as bitter to taste as to smell.
Your chime goes off and you say, "Come." Jim comes in, hair wet, in clothes that look as comfy as yours do. He sees you with the bottle and asks, "What do you think?"
"I have an idea." Also courtesy of your time in college. You pour some rye into glasses add a third as much of the Fohlaran spirit, then shake in some bitters and ice. "If I do this right, it should be like a Black Manhattan."
As you're stirring, he comes up behind you, his arms stealing around your waist. "I knew you could come up with something." He laughs as you lean into him, then you feel his lips on your neck.
"You're messing with perfection, buster."
"Shut up, I'm busy."
You laugh and finish making the drinks, then you try one. "Mmmm."
He turns you and you hold the drink up to him. His eyes widen as he tastes. "That's really good."
"Oh, ye of little faith." You share the glass because he doesn't seem inclined to let you go, then he puts it down on the table and pulls you closer. "I haven't kissed you yet."
"Yes, I know. I've pointed out this sad deficiency."
"Mmmm." He's grinning. "Kiss me."
"Why do I have to do all the work? 'Make me a drink, woman. Now, kiss me.'" But you lean in and kiss him, trying to make it a sweet kiss, not a "tear my clothes off this minute" one.
His smile is a lovely thing as you ease away. He grabs the other glass and pulls you with him to your bed, putting the drink on the nightstand—on the coaster you have so your water bottles don't leave a ring—and urges you onto the bed, but not to lie down. To sit up, backs against the headboard, sharing the drink slowly. Kissing carefully.
You think neither of you want to rush this.
And then talking. About nothing. About everything.
And more kissing.
You get up to make another drink because he claims to not be able to follow a recipe, which you think is bullshit, but you don't mind. You like to play around with cocktails and cooking. You hand him the glass and then crawl back onto the bed.
"I really, really like you, Jim."
"I really, really like you, too."
Eventually, you end up cuddled around each other, and you wake when your alarm goes off. "Someone fell asleep here."
"Someone doesn't care." He nuzzles your neck. "This was nice."
"It was."
He pulls you around and kisses you. "Dinner tonight?"
"Sure." Then you grab his arm as he starts to get up. "More kisses."
"Oh, fine, if you insist." His laugh is almost a giggle as he lets you pull him back down.
You think it's one of the best sounds you've ever heard.
##
You're on a frontier planet, in a bar charmingly called The Last Outpost, waiting for Len to get his butt down to the planet so you don't miss your dinner reservation. Jim's chosen a table in the corner and sits with his back to the wall. You chose the seat next to him and it affords you a good view of who's coming and going.
You bristle when you see a familiar face, and Jim seems to know it instantly.
"Who's that Romulan?"
"Pardek." You turn away and look at Jim. "He's in charge of Romulan support operations."
"Support for whom?"
"Great question. But...humanitarian. Wow that word really doesn't work in this case, does it?" You grin, but your smile fades as Pardek walks over.
"Commander Chapel. Such a pleasure to see you." He smiles less tightly at Jim. "And you, of course, need no introduction, Captain James T. Kirk. I am Special Envoy Pardek."
Jim ducks his head in the kind of greeting that's respectful but not overly friendly.
"Did she tell you we've often run concurrent operations?" He sits without being invited. "She's so...idealistic, this one. Thinking Starfleet's motives are purely to help."
"You think they're not?" Jim asks, his tone carefully neutral.
"I think they're exactly as ours or anyone else's are. Grateful people are often supportive people. They have good memories of who helped them. And it's no secret that the Federation prioritizes resource-rich planets before the poor."
"That's not true," you say quickly, then regret letting him pull you in again. "This is an old and boring argument."
"I don't think so. Do you, Captain?"
Before Jim can answer, you see Spock walk in, his eyebrow going up when he sees who you're sitting with. He walks over.
Pardek turns to see what you're looking at and then stands. "Ah, a man I have heard even death cannot hold. We're hard to kill, are we not, cousin?"
"We are not related." Spock looks over at you and Jim. "Doctor McCoy has an emergency patient. He said it was nothing for you to worry about but to go on without him."
"You want to come? We have an open seat?" You realize your mistake as you ask. Your reservations are at a place that specializes in exotic meats.
"I think not."
"Commander Spock. Perhaps you would sit and talk with me. As you say, we are not blood relatives, but our people do have much in common. I would enjoy...speaking of these things with you."
Spock looks slightly intrigued.
You're trying to figure out how to tell Spock that Pardek's an asshole, if a charming one, when Jim gets up. "Pardek, Spock, if you'll excuse us, we have a dinner reservation we don't want to lose."
"It was a pleasure to meet you," Pardek says, his charm more in evidence now, but you think he's trying to charm Spock, not Jim.
As Jim hustles you out, you mutter, "I don't like leaving him with that jerk."
"Spock's fully capable of ending any discussion that becomes unpleasant. And the bar's full of our people. Pardek can't pull anything if you're worried that's what this is?"
"No, I'm—I'm not worried. He's just an ass."
"Do you two have a history that goes beyond emergency support?"
"Ewww. No."
He laughs. "Well, you like pointed ears."
"I like Spock's pointed ears. Because they're part of Spock. I don't like them categorically."
"Okay, good."
He holds the door for the restaurant and you enter, and immediately moan at the tantalizing aromas coming from the kitchen and tables. "Oh, wow."
"Yeah, never eaten here. Gets great reviews. Bones is missing out. But I don't mind having you to myself."
"Me either."
"Is that why you invited Spock to join us?"
You study him, trying to assess if he's curious or something else. But his expression is unreadable. "We had the seat."
"We did." He seems to let it go and checks you in at the reception desk, letting the host know there'll be one less than you thought.
Jim puts his arm around your waist as you wait, just a casual move, natural and easy and you love it. You don't have long to enjoy it before the host is gesturing for you to follow him.
The restaurant has regular tables in the middle but set away in corners and side halls are semi-private alcoves for two, and he leads you to one. "I hope you don't mind not being in the main space?" His smile says he knows you won't.
As you settle in, you peruse the menu for a bit, then let Jim order whatever kind of wine he wants and agree that trying a little bit of lots of things sounds great. You lean back, enjoying having him all to yourself—and how much fun he's having picking out the food. A sommelier brings the wine and makes quite a production out of opening it. It's really good wine, so you don't mind.
Once the server leaves, he leans in. "So this Pardek. If he wasn't an...EHU, was it?"
You nod and laugh. "Then why do I dislike him so?"
"Yeah. Jan didn't sleep with him, did she?"
"God, no. He's just...underhanded. And he oozes that annoying charm like butter wouldn't melt and then you find out that say the newest pleasure drug circulating on a world where the Romulans are also there—supposedly providing relief—is from Romulus. The Romulans keep the prices artificially low until the population is good and hooked. That kind of shit." You sigh. "I've seen him gain more and more authority. Clearly his methods are not frowned on back home." You take a deep breath. "Jan saw him doing crap like that, too. So there's no way she'd ever say yes to him. I think he prefers males, though, anyway. From what I've observed."
"Maybe he has a crush on Spock?"
"Could be. Maybe that dippy female commander wasn't so dippy. Maybe he's irresistible to them and she couldn't help it?"
Jim laughs. "Kinda harsh to her, isn't it?"
"Really? I mean sure, it's no fun to be betrayed by someone you love. But she'd known Spock for five minutes. And he was the enemy. I'm not saying this because she was 'an emotional female.' I've seen men just as stupid move up in Starfleet. Generally, it's a personal connection to someone important."
He nods, and you laugh and both say "Styles" at the same time. "How he got the Excelsior I will never understand, Chris."
"Me neither. He can't stand me. Just in case you have to host him or something and want me to make myself scarce for the duration. He made the mistake of slapping that goddamned crop down on my desk when I was doing something more important than listening to whatever he wanted."
Jim starts to laugh. "Well, you're not in the brig, so you didn't sock him."
"Nope. But I told him where he could stick his crop and when he went in to put me on report with Cartwright, he told him where he could stick it, too. We were working on post whale-probe damage. We really did not have time for his petty bullshit."
He's grinning in a funny way.
"What?"
"I like that you've had a life away from the ship. There's things I don't know—facets to you I'll get to know."
"I hope you like them." You take his hand. "I really like being back on the ship."
"I'm glad. Means you'll stay."
"Well, I kind of like the captain so..." You grin at his expression.
"I've heard"—he leans in, his eyes shining—"that the captain kind of likes you, too."
"Really?"
He nods.
"I'm a lucky girl." You see servers coming with plates so you lean back and let them set them around the table.
The two of you abandon talking other than saying things like "Oh, God, try this one." The food is amazing and you think Len missed out big time.
When the plates are empty, he sits back, sighing happily. "We're going to be on Earth for maintenance in a few weeks. I thought we could go somewhere."
"That would be nice. Ny and are meeting Jan for dinner but she won't be back until the end of our leave." You see his look and smile. "She knows about us."
"You told her?"
"We had a pact. If something weird happened"—you laugh at his expression—"and she got together with Spock or you and I decided we liked each other, we promised to tell the other."
"Very adult of you."
"Real friends don't hide shit from each other just because it's uncomfortable. Or she and I don't, anyway." You're not sure Ny would do the same. Jan never suggested you extend the pact to her, so you think she wasn't sure of Ny, either. "As it turns out, she's dating a guy she's crazy for, so my timing was perfect. She's fine with it."
"Good. I'm a fan of hers—you know that, right?"
"I do. And she's a fan of yours. In ways other than romantic." You study him. "You could have looked her up when you left the ship the first time. Before you married Admiral Ciani. But you didn't, did you?"
"I didn't. To be honest, as soon as I met Lori, I was hooked. I wasn't looking for anything else. And then once it was over—well, I was a real son of a bitch. You saw it. Jan deserved better—and I knew she was assigned to the ship, so what was the point of pursuing anything?" He stops talking as servers gather up the plates. "Dessert?"
"I'm stuffed."
"I'll just settle the bill." He tells the server, then presses his finger into the pay screen the man hands him. Once you're alone again, he asks, "Do you think Jan and I would have been a good match?"
"I don't know." It's something you've thought about lately. "You like a certain kind of woman, I think. I'm not sure she's it."
"Are you saying she's not intelligent enough for me?"
"No. Because she's whip smart. But she doesn't always know it. I think she's not...confident enough for you. In what she knows. In who she is."
"I think that's a fair assessment. And I do tend toward a certain type. I like my women bright, and shrinking violets need not apply."
"What was Antonia like?"
"She was an outlier, I think, if you stack my women up. But she was what I was looking for at the time. She loved horses and dogs. She was fearless and athletic and she...adored me. She adored people, to be honest. She used to say that I looked up and she looked out, and she was right."
"Looking up isn't a bad thing. Especially given where we work."
"It was to her. She grew to hate it when I looked at the stars. She took it to mean I wanted to leave her. Eventually I did."
"Looking up would imply you don't care about the people around you. That you don't notice things. I think she was wrong. You see everything, Jim. You see everything and still look up. Maybe that's hope, you know?"
He's smiling at you sweetly. "Maybe so. You ready to go?" When you nod he gets up and holds his hand out to you. Once you're outside, he pulls you against him, his arm around your waist again. As you pass The Last Outpost, you both peek in. Pardek is inside with some Romulans; Spock's nowhere to be seen.
"Either he's back on the ship or they've kidnapped him."
"Do you want to call him?" You laugh as you ask.
"Nyah. I have faith in his ability to identify an asshole after a few minutes. He may seem socially inept, but he's actually a good judge of character." Once you're in the plaza, he comms the ship and requests beam-up. As you leave the transporter room, he murmurs, "Stay with me tonight?"
"Big move, Jim. Are we ready for that?"
"Well, not to sound uninterested but I've found a big meal and overly athletic sex to be a recipe for—"
"Heartburn."
"I was going to say disaster. Silly me—forgot I was talking to a doctor. But yes." He nuzzles your neck as you get on the lift. "But sleep with me. Morning sex is nice."
"It is."
The lift opens and he stops at your quarters. "Do you want to grab anything?"
You love that he thinks that way. That he gets you might want things. "Yeah, I'll be there in a sec." You palm your door open, and grab a few things that you throw in a little bag, then hurry down the hall.
You ring the chime and instead of Jim answering, Spock comes out with Jim behind him, holding the door open. "Christine. I trust you had a pleasant evening?"
"I did. Thanks." You try to hide your little bag behind your back but you know he saw it.
But what difference does it make? It's not like he'll care.
"You escaped Pardek."
"A curious individual. I am uncertain as to his motives, but he seemed intent on making a favorable impression on me."
"He's a jerk."
"So I gathered from your expression. It was interesting talking to a Romulan who did not appear to wish me ill." He raises his eyebrow in a sardonic way and you and Jim both laugh. "I have kept you too long. Goodnight."
"Goodnight, Spock." Jim says as he draws you into the room and lets the door close. He pushes you up against the wall and kisses you deeply.
"Mmmmm." You reach down, feel how ready he is for you, and ease away, walking to his work table and dropping your bag on it, then pulling the chair out so it's facing way from the table. "Sit."
He grins and does what you say.
You ease over him, straddling him, and kiss him, and the way you two are touching each other is different. Not so sweet, not so careful, not in a way that has to be stopped.
"Staying upright and going slow is a good way to avoid heartburn," you say between kisses.
"I'm all for that."
You unfasten his pants and then he lifts you up so he can reach under your skirt and pull your underwear off, then pushes his own down enough for you to slide onto him.
As you move slowly, he closes his eyes and says, "I'm going to think of this every time I sit here now."
"I think of doing it with you in one of the labs."
He pulls you down for a kiss and reaches between you, finding the sweet spot. "I think of doing it in the big chair."
"We'd have an audience," you say, then nip his low lip very softly before releasing it. "The bridge is never empty."
"It's during refits or something. It's my fantasy. We're alone up there." He's watching you as he touches, smiling just as you begin to feel it, the long climb up and up and up and then falling.
"God damn."
"Slow and vertical is nice." He's thrusting up slowly, and once you can think again, you begin to match his movements, until he too is gone. He presses his face into your chest as he comes, then a few moments later, says, "I haven't even seen your breasts," and begins to untie the wrap shirt you picked just for the easy access.
"Pretty," he says, as he takes in the gray bra that matches the panties he barely looked at. Then he reaches around and undoes it, pushing it up, playing, kissing.
"I guess you like the girls, huh?"
"I love the girls."
He pulls you down for a long kiss, rubbing lightly on your back, making you shiver. "Are you going to call me a sad old man if I tell you I'm really sleepy now?"
"No, I'm going to call you a satisfied and stuffed older man. And I'm sleepy, too." You ease off him and just as you begin to wonder why you didn't grab a nightshirt, he gets up and grabs a t-shirt, taking everything else off you before pulling it on over your head.
"I've been thinking about you wearing this." He's stroking and reaching under it, finding you again, pushing you back against the table, relentless as he touches you just enough to send you off again.
"I'm going to sleep like a goddamned baby."
"Yes, you are. I can't wait to wake up next to you."
You lose yourself in kissing him. "Me neither."