A/N: I have a sore throat and fever that just may be strep. I had fever dreams all afternoon, and for some reason dreamed about Picard/Sulu shounen ai/yaoi. This is almost exactly what my dream was. This pairing does not exist (for some strange reason, like series continuity), but it is now necessary to my life. Whatever. I don't feel good.
I don't own Star Trek, Picard, or Sulu, but I think I own this ship!
Also, the dancing I describe exists. The pavane and bourree are both old French dances and can be found on YouTube. The last dance was all mine.
Warning: Very, very, very A/U, with no explanation of how a youthful Sulu was ripped out of time and onto Picard's Enterprise.
A Bit of Culture
There was a party in the Enterprise's cargo bay four. A tricky and dangerous rescue mission of an abandoned ship with critically sensitive Federation information had succeeded beyond anyone's wildest imagination, and in relief and joy, the crew was having a rare impromptu celebration.
The cargo bay was filled with laughing, rejoicing officers and crew members, slapping each other on the back and raising hastily synthesized glasses of champagne, whiskey and other libations. Lt. Hikaru Sulu was celebrating with the rest, although his eyes scanned the crowd restlessly. Even as he was jostled by the overenthusiastic crowd, his dark eyes searched constantly. A burst of hilarity in the corner caught his attention, and there his eyes stayed.
In the middle of a loud cluster of senior officers stood Captain Jean-Luc Picard, his wiry frame standing almost at attention, even in this most relaxed of atmospheres. His face was wreathed in a smile, as some of the officers around him seemed to tease him mercilessly. Lt. Sulu's eyes locked on the captain, as he drifted closer to the rambunctious group, moving with the eddy of the crowd.
Slowly, words, then sentences became intelligible over the noise of the crowd and the sudden blare of raucous music that some enterprising person switched on. Just as Lt. Sulu reached the edge of the group, Commander Riker raised his voice so he could be heard. "Now, Captain, " he grinned insouciantly, "the music has inevitably started, as we knew it would. You have no excuse to withhold your legendary ancestral dancing technique. Before the party gets out of hand, I, and my fellow officers would love to see it. What better occasion is there than this?" His teeth flashed wickedly as the other officers agreed with him in an incoherent burst.
Lt. Sulu inched even closer, unobtrusively worming his way from the edge of the group, to almost at Captain Picard's right elbow. The captain was gracious as always, laughing off Lt. Riker's words, but as the importuning of his crew grew louder, he swept them all with one look, ending at Lt. Sulu. The twinkle in his eyes presaged his next words as he rumbled, "Well, it is a special occasion, so just once…but I will hear no word of this after this evening. Is that understood?"
"Yes, Captain." "Whatever you say, sir!" "What happens in cargo bay four, stays in cargo bay four!" All the officers sang out their agreement with mock seriousness. Lt. Sulu did not say anything, but his dark eyes glinted as the captain turned on one heel to walk behind a sheltered pile of crates.
In only a moment however, Captain Picard returned carrying what appeared to be a priceless gramophone. He had changed out of his uniform as well, and was wearing only a rough pair of woven grey pants tucked into simple black boots. A wide black sash was wrapped around his waist, providing double duty as both a contrast on the grey pants, and as a type of belt that held the pants on. Every female in the cargo bay stopped talking mid-sentence, and turned to stare at Picard's surprisingly muscular bare torso as he placed the gramophone down on a convenient box. He then turned around, saw the now silent crowd staring at him, smiled, and said, "At ease, ladies." He paused, grinned, then continued, "And gentlemen too. Now I've been bullied into performing an ancient dance from my home in Brittany by my senior officers. This dance has been performed in one variant or another for nearly a thousand years, and I am one of the last practitioners alive. It's a piece of Earth history that is rarely performed, especially by me. So enjoy, but remember, this is a one-time occurrence."
As Captain Picard turned away to fiddle with the gramophone, Lt. Sulu let one corner of his mouth infinitesimally quirk up. He took a healthy swig of his champagne to hide his amusement and walked forward to be at the very edge of the cleared circle around the captain. As the first eerie notes of the music filled the room, everyone pushed forward a little, standing on toes, and straining their eyes to see their normally staid captain begin a stately pavane.
The music swelled, matching exactly the slow, measured pace of the captain, as he turned and stepped, occasionally bowing to an invisible partner. The audience was rapt, not fidgeting, coughing, or even moving as the ancient dance progressed. The music slowed, as did the captain, then stopped. The crew caught their breaths, preparing to clap and whistle for more, when the gramophone suddenly erupted into a boisterous dance step, causing the captain to leap high in the air with a spectacular kick. He immediately began turning as he jumped, his feet stomping on the ground in a staccato, intentional counter-rhythm to the music.
Lt. Sulu suddenly drained the last of his champagne, and threw the glass to the floor, where it shattered into dull safety-glass. His eyes lit up with a joyful ferocity, and mimicking the captain's initial spectacular kick, he leapt into the circle, exactly opposite the captain, and so close, their chests were almost touching. Immediately he mirrored the captain's every move, with a skill that bespoke long practice. Captain Picard's eyes grinned into Lt. Sulu's own, as they spun in the energetic bourree. As they danced a mere whisper away from each other, sometimes back-to-back, sometimes front-to-front, and sometimes one man's chest almost brushing the other man's back, their eyes never left each other, and they never touched.
The crew was awestruck at this virtuoso display of talent and raw sensuality. Both Lt. Sulu's and Captain Picard's hands sporadically clapped out an even stronger counter-rhythm, as well as almost touching in several turns of the dance. Neither were breathing hard, although Lt. Sulu brushed his dark hair out of his eyes more than once. They were both grinning maniacally at each other, neither missing a step and both perfectly matched.
The music changed again, becoming more sultry, slowing, and taking on a challenging melody. The two men slowly stopped their whirling and jumping, and faced each other. Without hesitation, they placed their palms together just in front of their chests. Again, without taking either taking their eyes from the other's face, they began a measured dance. This time they did not turn away from each other at all, although they turned and stepped. But it was always as one entity. It was amazing. It was inspired. It was—
Dr. Crusher leaned in towards Commander Riker. "Is it getting warm in here to you?" she whispered softly, pulling at the collar of her uniform absently without taking her eyes from the two dancing men. Commander Riker's smile only grew, although uncharacteristically, he did not eye the flustered Dr. Crusher as he normally would. His eyes were also glued to the performance taking place. "So formal, so decorous, but so…suggestive," he murmured. "It's no surprise that the French have the reputation they do. But how does quiet, introverted Lt. Sulu know this dance?"
Commander Riker's eyes narrowed with the hint of speculation, but Dr. Crusher shook her head, still staring. "No," she stated authoritatively, "you have the habit of jumping to the most scandalous conclusions. Lt. Sulu is an avowed admirer of ancient Earth culture, so it's no surprise he knows ancient dancing. He's a very cultured man. And I know quite well that Jean-Luc likes women. Intimately." She paused for a second, then whispered even more quietly, "But thinking about the possibility is very intriguing."
At that moment, the music came to a complete halt. The crew waited hopefully for another song to start, but after a moment, the cargo bay erupted with cheers, applause and catcalls. Both Captain Picard and Lt. Sulu made formal bows to each other and began to mingle with the crowd again. Almost immediately they were surrounded, although separately, and their admirers started talking at them at the tops of their lungs. After a few minutes of gracious acknowledgement, the captain excused himself from the party to go shower and change out of his costume and took his gramophone with him. He left without a glance back, and as he exited the cargo bay, the normal music started again.
Dr. Crusher and Commander Riker cornered Lt. Sulu and started to cross-examine him on his dancing skills. With every question that he answered, Dr. Crusher threw a small glance of triumph at Commander Riker. Lt. Sulu stated that he had learned many folk dances in his study of old Earth culture. He was not at all aware that Captain Picard performed them, but he was very glad there was someone who knew them that he could talk to. With his usual quiet politeness, Lt. Sulu managed to fade into the background once again. Even Dr. Crusher couldn't believe that this quiet, restrained man had so recently danced with such abandon and sensuality. A more interesting conversation drew both Dr. Crusher and Commander Riker away, and Lt. Sulu took the opportunity to slip out the door.
When he entered the turbo lift, Captain Picard was inside, in a clean uniform, and gave him a friendly nod as the doors closed. Lt. Sulu smiled gently as he stood directly next to him. "Not going back to the party?" he inquired.
Captain Picard shook his head and smiled back. "I think we gave them enough to to be scandalized about. Whatever possessed you to jump in and join me like that?"
Lt. Sulu chuckled, "After all this time of practicing with you, you want to hog the spotlight? Anyway, the dance is not complete without a partner, and I am most definitely your only partner, Jean-Luc. " His hand moved towards Captain Picard's, and brushed it softly.
The captain's fingers entangled gently with his own, as they rode the turbo lift, both grinning at each other out of the corners of their eyes. "Since tonight is a celebration, and celebrations always call for dancing, perhaps you should come over and we can dance privately," Picard suggested archly.
Lt. Sulu chuckled, "Your place this time? But everyone always barges in on you there. It could cause an even greater scandal. In fact, I think Riker may even suspect something. The line of questioning after you left was quite speculative. I had to be incredibly boring until they got distracted."
Captain Picard only squeezed his hand, and swiftly turning, cupped Lt. Sulu's cheek in his palm. "No one will find out," he declared. "No one has found out in two years, and no one will find out in two more. But even if they did," he said, looking again into Lt. Sulu's dark eyes, "I'm not ashamed of it. You are the only man for me, and you are definitely not boring." As the lift slowed, Captain Picard again faced forward, and reluctantly let go of Lt. Sulu's hand. Just before the doors opened, the captain leaned over, and breathed into Lt. Sulu's ear, "My quarters at 2330, lieutenant. That's an order."
Lt. Sulu stiffened, with a beatific smile and snapped to attention. "Yes, sir!" he replied, as the doors opened and the captain stepped out of the turbo lift without a backward glance. Lt. Sulu changed his destination to Ten Forward, and its neverending fountain of coffee. It was going to be one of THOSE nights. After his captain was finished with him, he'd need every bit of stimulation he could get.