Title: Developments
Rating: G
Codes: W/T
Feed back?: Please, but go easy on me, this is the first time posting. I
know that the pairing probably won't win me any popularity contests, but
what can you do?
Disclaimer: Paramount owns everything and I sure don't make any money of
this.
Swallowing his anxiety the young teacher moved away from the familiar group of adults he had been talking to kai approached the imposing solitary figure of the Enterprise's chief of security. This was the last place he had ever expected to see the Klingon, and from the expression on the other man's face, he wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea either. They were standing on a warm sandy beach in holodeck three watching the children and a couple of the more energetic parents play tag in the surf. Alexander was here, of course, laughing and shouting with his classmates as they tried to keep ahead of the one who was 'it'; but he didn't usually bring his father along on school outings. Maybe it was a good sign. He shrugged, shading his eyes from the bright simulated sun and said, "I didn't think you would be able to make it, sir,"
"I always have time for my son, Mr Llewellyn," came the gruff response.
Llewellyn swallowed, suddenly aware of how his words might have sounded, "I'm sorry, sir, I, I didn't mean to imply-"
"Good," Worf cut him off, in no mood to indulge the stuttering ensign.
"Sorry, sir," The Klingon said nothing more, merely turned back to watching Alexander and his friends, indicating that Llewellyn's presence was no longer welcome, and the human left. The boy seemed to be enjoying himself, and the game they were playing was not without it's merits as a training aid. To be successful you needed speed and agility, and an awareness of your enemy's position at all times. Worf allowed himself a rare smile, proud of his son's performance. Counsellor Troi was playing as well, barefoot and smiling amongst the children, keeping them safe without their notice. As he watched she and Alexander krept up behind the child who was meant to be pursuing them, tapping the little girl on the shoulder and running off before she had a chance to catch them. The only problem was that they were laughing so hard in their flight that they nearly ran into each other and both ended up being tagged. Deanna collapsed when she was touched as if she'd been shot, and was soon covered by a hoard of giggling children. The madness continued for a few more minutes, until, becoming aware of his scrutiny Deanna stood and called for one of the other adults to take her place. Leaving the playful heap of young bodies behind her she jogged up the beach to greet him.
She stopped inches away, taking a moment to catch her breath before she looked up, a radiant smile lighting her face as she met his gaze. He felt that rare smile deepening in response, his lips curling back from his teeth in feral appreciation of the sight before him. Strong and vital, her eyes shining and her cheeks flushed from exercise she faced him completely without fear. Once, alone, she had removed a knife from his hand he remembered. It was something unique to her, even amongst his closest friends, a refusal to be intimidated, either by his size or by his aggression, born out of supreme confidence in herself and a profound understanding of him. Unable to stop himself, his eyes raked over her lithe body, almost unhindered by her simple two piece swimming costume or the delicate sarong she wore tied loose around her hips. She was magnificent, small and beautiful yet perfectly formed with gently toned muscle playing under soft olive skin. Realising that he had been staring for some time, the bold warrior coughed and looked away.
When he looked back there was mischief in her inky eyes, her voice light and teasing as she asked "So, what do you think?"
His eyes widened, shocked by the forwardness of her question at such a public place, but his answer was direct "You are most attractive,"
"Thank you," she said, "But I meant about the programme, Worf,"
"Oh," he looked around him for a moment, "It is not something I would normally use a hollodeck for,"
"I know, there's nothing to kill," the seriousness of her expression as she said it would have challenged even Riker's formidable poker face. At least until she spoiled it by laughing.
His eyes softened, sharing her amusement "I don't know," he said, "there's always Ensign Llewellyn,"
"Hardly a challenge worthy of a Klingon,"
"Perhaps not,"
"You seem a little over dressed for the beach." Her sudden change of subject caught him a little off guard, but looking down at his uniform, he thought she might have had a point. "You could at least take your shoes off,"
"I could," he nodded his assent, bending to do as she suggested and more, his sash and jacket joining his footwear in a neat pile beneath a near by tree.
"Much better," she said, reaching up to brush her lips across his cheek before sitting herself beside his disguarded clothing.
Always cautious, he hesitated as if checking for danger before joining her in the sand, "Alexander is doing well," he rumbled wondering if she knew the effect her presence, close enough to feel her warmth along his now bare arms but still not touching, was having on his tightly controlled Klingon emotions. One look down into her midnight eyes told him that she did, and that she shared his feelings. In them he found a mirror for his tortured soul, one that surrounded it with light, and for the first time since the death of Alexander's mother he allowed himself to hope; and to feel. She smiled up at him, confirming what he had seen, and closed the remaining gap between them. When she spoke, her voice was soft, but conveyed nothing of what had just passed between them that might be interpreted by anyone over hearing as anything other than abiding friend ship.
"He's having fun," she corrected him, playfully tolerant of his tendency to turn every thing into a competition. "They all are,"
"But he seems most proficient," Worf insisted enjoying the current that seemed to flow between them where they touched.
"Of course he does," she relented, her voice soft and sincere "He's your son,"
"Thank you," although surprised by the unaccustomed warmth her words brought to his face, he accepted the compliment with his usual stoicism.
If she noticed the subtle shift in his emotions, or the slight flush it brought with it, she gave no sign as she continued, "You are wonderful with him, you know? You have achieved so much in the last few years," she was aware that he valued his self control, just as she did.
He nodded solemnly, watching his son for a few minutes more before he turned back towards her, "I doubt we could have come this far without your help,"
Deanna smiled, running an affectionate finger down one rippling bicep, "Glad to be of assistance,"
"Alexander looks up to you,"
"I'm very fond of him too," she paused, looking straight into his eyes, "I'm very fond of both of you,"
"Deanna , I," for the first time in his life Worf found that he was unsure.
"Go on,"
it took only the smallest encouragement for his direct manor to reassert its self, "I would like you to eat with us tonight" he announced, his dark eyes locking with hers, almost daring her to turn him down.
Mischief tugged at the corners of her mouth as she recognised his challenge, and she found it impossible to resist the opportunity to tease him. "Really?" she asked, a smile betraying the ire her words tried to suggest. "and are you going to try to uncover my feelings on the subject, or do you just presume that I'll jump when ever it suits?"
"Deanna," his tone was warning to start with, then softened as he joined her game. "I could always schedule you an unexpected security drill in my quarters,"
"But you wouldn't,"
"Perhaps not," he was actually starting to enjoy their verbal sparing, "But it would at least insure your presence,"
she actually laughed at that, "If you're prepared to go to such lengths how can I refuse?"
"You can't," A brief tilt of the head was the only outward sign he gave of her acceptance, but it didn't matter. She could feel his relief, and his pleasure, and she could see it in the way his eyes rested on her beautiful face, as if he was wondering what it would be like if he just leaned over and kissed her. Her cheeks flushed prettily under his scrutiny, but she refused to look away and he knew that she'd read his desire. Although he frowned in response, he did not back away from the thought as he once might have. Instead he was curious, suddenly overcome with the need to understand the woman at his side.
"Are we always there?" he asked, the knuckles of one hand grazing her forehead, uncaring for once what any of the others might see or think.
"Yes," she released a soft breath, trying not to shudder at the intimacy that particular contact brought, "My mind is only half what it should be; I have the sensitivity of a Betazoid, but not the focus I would need to read actual thoughts or shut myself off completely,"
"Does it cause you pain?"
"Sometimes," she admitted softly, "But it is part of who I am,"
"Yet you do not resent it," he stated, feeling a growing admiration for the courage she displayed in living amongst them when she could have found peace so easily with her own kind. They both had to struggle against their nature at times. "You are stronger than I am. I find it difficult to achieve balance with only my own feelings to concern me."
She smiled, deeply touched. "You have a restless spirit, Worf," she said, "Like any great warrior should,"
His expression softened at her insight, and he lapsed once more into silence. He enjoyed her nearness and the opportunity to relax, if only a little, as he watched his son's childish antics; and despite his initial misgivings he found that their time on the beach ended too quickly for his liking. The teacher gathered the children together a final time before wishing them well for the holidays and every one started to disperse. Deanna returned to her quarters to change, but not before arranging to meet him and Alexander within the hour.
Patience had never been something Worf held in high regard, seeing it as a sign of weakness and indecision. Every fibre of his being called for action, and be it on the battlefield or in his every day life it was a voice he found almost impossible to ignore. Not that he did not see the wisdom of preparation and the discussion of tactics, or even the usefulness of delay to confuse the enemy, being forced to wait was intolerable. There was half an hour left before she would be late, but still he found it impossible to rest and as he paced through the living space of his quarters, he noticed his son watching him with an ironic smirk on his young face. He knew exactly why it was there. A few weeks ago Alexander had been worried about an exam, to the point where his nervous fidgeting and refusal to eat had started to grate on the older Klingon's nerves, and Worf had sharply informed the boy that anxiety was unbecoming of a warrior.
"It's only Deanna, father." Said Alexander, not helping in the least. "She's been here before you know," he was sure that his father would face a visit from the entire ruling council with less trepidation than he was displaying now, but was at a loss to explain why.
Worf stopped pacing for a moment and faced his son. "Of course I know that," he hissed in frustration, "But there are things I need to discuss with her,"
"like what?"
"I," he scowled "I do not have to explain my self to you,"
The boy shrugged, unconcerned by the harshness in his father's voice, "Whatever it is, it's making you nervous," he observed.
"I am not nervous!" snapped Worf, but was he really? Relations between he and their striking empathic counsellor had been steadily warming since he first turned to her for help with Alexander, and over the last few months especially he had found himself wanting to spend more and more time with her. He'd always known she was a beautiful woman, but when they'd first come aboard her small stature and gentle nature had convinced him that she would be too fragile for Klingon mating, and he had pushed away his initial attraction to her. Experience had taught him how wrong he might have been. He'd seen her face down their most implacable enemies with an otherworldly calm, and he'd watched amazed as she levelled opponents almost twice her size at Mok'bra. A fire blazed in Deanna Troi's soul hot enough to challenge the most ardent warrior; that she kept it hidden beneath the image of a demure and softly spoken Starfleet officer only intrigued him more. After the holodeck today he knew his interest was reciprocated, and tonight he was going to act on it. What he didn't know was how, and it was that which was unsettling him. If Deanna was here, he was sure she'd be telling him to simply follow his heart, and surely she would never expect him to be anything less than he was around her, but at the same time he didn't want to scare her. He shook his head at the thought, in all the time he'd known her he'd never seen her scared. Of anything. Maybe the direct route was best. The door chimed.
"Come," Any remaining uncertainty vanished as she stepped into his quarters, and he walked right up to her and kissed her. He felt her tense in his arms, and for one terrible moment he thought that she was going to pull away, but then she relaxed and kissed him back.
End.
Swallowing his anxiety the young teacher moved away from the familiar group of adults he had been talking to kai approached the imposing solitary figure of the Enterprise's chief of security. This was the last place he had ever expected to see the Klingon, and from the expression on the other man's face, he wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea either. They were standing on a warm sandy beach in holodeck three watching the children and a couple of the more energetic parents play tag in the surf. Alexander was here, of course, laughing and shouting with his classmates as they tried to keep ahead of the one who was 'it'; but he didn't usually bring his father along on school outings. Maybe it was a good sign. He shrugged, shading his eyes from the bright simulated sun and said, "I didn't think you would be able to make it, sir,"
"I always have time for my son, Mr Llewellyn," came the gruff response.
Llewellyn swallowed, suddenly aware of how his words might have sounded, "I'm sorry, sir, I, I didn't mean to imply-"
"Good," Worf cut him off, in no mood to indulge the stuttering ensign.
"Sorry, sir," The Klingon said nothing more, merely turned back to watching Alexander and his friends, indicating that Llewellyn's presence was no longer welcome, and the human left. The boy seemed to be enjoying himself, and the game they were playing was not without it's merits as a training aid. To be successful you needed speed and agility, and an awareness of your enemy's position at all times. Worf allowed himself a rare smile, proud of his son's performance. Counsellor Troi was playing as well, barefoot and smiling amongst the children, keeping them safe without their notice. As he watched she and Alexander krept up behind the child who was meant to be pursuing them, tapping the little girl on the shoulder and running off before she had a chance to catch them. The only problem was that they were laughing so hard in their flight that they nearly ran into each other and both ended up being tagged. Deanna collapsed when she was touched as if she'd been shot, and was soon covered by a hoard of giggling children. The madness continued for a few more minutes, until, becoming aware of his scrutiny Deanna stood and called for one of the other adults to take her place. Leaving the playful heap of young bodies behind her she jogged up the beach to greet him.
She stopped inches away, taking a moment to catch her breath before she looked up, a radiant smile lighting her face as she met his gaze. He felt that rare smile deepening in response, his lips curling back from his teeth in feral appreciation of the sight before him. Strong and vital, her eyes shining and her cheeks flushed from exercise she faced him completely without fear. Once, alone, she had removed a knife from his hand he remembered. It was something unique to her, even amongst his closest friends, a refusal to be intimidated, either by his size or by his aggression, born out of supreme confidence in herself and a profound understanding of him. Unable to stop himself, his eyes raked over her lithe body, almost unhindered by her simple two piece swimming costume or the delicate sarong she wore tied loose around her hips. She was magnificent, small and beautiful yet perfectly formed with gently toned muscle playing under soft olive skin. Realising that he had been staring for some time, the bold warrior coughed and looked away.
When he looked back there was mischief in her inky eyes, her voice light and teasing as she asked "So, what do you think?"
His eyes widened, shocked by the forwardness of her question at such a public place, but his answer was direct "You are most attractive,"
"Thank you," she said, "But I meant about the programme, Worf,"
"Oh," he looked around him for a moment, "It is not something I would normally use a hollodeck for,"
"I know, there's nothing to kill," the seriousness of her expression as she said it would have challenged even Riker's formidable poker face. At least until she spoiled it by laughing.
His eyes softened, sharing her amusement "I don't know," he said, "there's always Ensign Llewellyn,"
"Hardly a challenge worthy of a Klingon,"
"Perhaps not,"
"You seem a little over dressed for the beach." Her sudden change of subject caught him a little off guard, but looking down at his uniform, he thought she might have had a point. "You could at least take your shoes off,"
"I could," he nodded his assent, bending to do as she suggested and more, his sash and jacket joining his footwear in a neat pile beneath a near by tree.
"Much better," she said, reaching up to brush her lips across his cheek before sitting herself beside his disguarded clothing.
Always cautious, he hesitated as if checking for danger before joining her in the sand, "Alexander is doing well," he rumbled wondering if she knew the effect her presence, close enough to feel her warmth along his now bare arms but still not touching, was having on his tightly controlled Klingon emotions. One look down into her midnight eyes told him that she did, and that she shared his feelings. In them he found a mirror for his tortured soul, one that surrounded it with light, and for the first time since the death of Alexander's mother he allowed himself to hope; and to feel. She smiled up at him, confirming what he had seen, and closed the remaining gap between them. When she spoke, her voice was soft, but conveyed nothing of what had just passed between them that might be interpreted by anyone over hearing as anything other than abiding friend ship.
"He's having fun," she corrected him, playfully tolerant of his tendency to turn every thing into a competition. "They all are,"
"But he seems most proficient," Worf insisted enjoying the current that seemed to flow between them where they touched.
"Of course he does," she relented, her voice soft and sincere "He's your son,"
"Thank you," although surprised by the unaccustomed warmth her words brought to his face, he accepted the compliment with his usual stoicism.
If she noticed the subtle shift in his emotions, or the slight flush it brought with it, she gave no sign as she continued, "You are wonderful with him, you know? You have achieved so much in the last few years," she was aware that he valued his self control, just as she did.
He nodded solemnly, watching his son for a few minutes more before he turned back towards her, "I doubt we could have come this far without your help,"
Deanna smiled, running an affectionate finger down one rippling bicep, "Glad to be of assistance,"
"Alexander looks up to you,"
"I'm very fond of him too," she paused, looking straight into his eyes, "I'm very fond of both of you,"
"Deanna , I," for the first time in his life Worf found that he was unsure.
"Go on,"
it took only the smallest encouragement for his direct manor to reassert its self, "I would like you to eat with us tonight" he announced, his dark eyes locking with hers, almost daring her to turn him down.
Mischief tugged at the corners of her mouth as she recognised his challenge, and she found it impossible to resist the opportunity to tease him. "Really?" she asked, a smile betraying the ire her words tried to suggest. "and are you going to try to uncover my feelings on the subject, or do you just presume that I'll jump when ever it suits?"
"Deanna," his tone was warning to start with, then softened as he joined her game. "I could always schedule you an unexpected security drill in my quarters,"
"But you wouldn't,"
"Perhaps not," he was actually starting to enjoy their verbal sparing, "But it would at least insure your presence,"
she actually laughed at that, "If you're prepared to go to such lengths how can I refuse?"
"You can't," A brief tilt of the head was the only outward sign he gave of her acceptance, but it didn't matter. She could feel his relief, and his pleasure, and she could see it in the way his eyes rested on her beautiful face, as if he was wondering what it would be like if he just leaned over and kissed her. Her cheeks flushed prettily under his scrutiny, but she refused to look away and he knew that she'd read his desire. Although he frowned in response, he did not back away from the thought as he once might have. Instead he was curious, suddenly overcome with the need to understand the woman at his side.
"Are we always there?" he asked, the knuckles of one hand grazing her forehead, uncaring for once what any of the others might see or think.
"Yes," she released a soft breath, trying not to shudder at the intimacy that particular contact brought, "My mind is only half what it should be; I have the sensitivity of a Betazoid, but not the focus I would need to read actual thoughts or shut myself off completely,"
"Does it cause you pain?"
"Sometimes," she admitted softly, "But it is part of who I am,"
"Yet you do not resent it," he stated, feeling a growing admiration for the courage she displayed in living amongst them when she could have found peace so easily with her own kind. They both had to struggle against their nature at times. "You are stronger than I am. I find it difficult to achieve balance with only my own feelings to concern me."
She smiled, deeply touched. "You have a restless spirit, Worf," she said, "Like any great warrior should,"
His expression softened at her insight, and he lapsed once more into silence. He enjoyed her nearness and the opportunity to relax, if only a little, as he watched his son's childish antics; and despite his initial misgivings he found that their time on the beach ended too quickly for his liking. The teacher gathered the children together a final time before wishing them well for the holidays and every one started to disperse. Deanna returned to her quarters to change, but not before arranging to meet him and Alexander within the hour.
Patience had never been something Worf held in high regard, seeing it as a sign of weakness and indecision. Every fibre of his being called for action, and be it on the battlefield or in his every day life it was a voice he found almost impossible to ignore. Not that he did not see the wisdom of preparation and the discussion of tactics, or even the usefulness of delay to confuse the enemy, being forced to wait was intolerable. There was half an hour left before she would be late, but still he found it impossible to rest and as he paced through the living space of his quarters, he noticed his son watching him with an ironic smirk on his young face. He knew exactly why it was there. A few weeks ago Alexander had been worried about an exam, to the point where his nervous fidgeting and refusal to eat had started to grate on the older Klingon's nerves, and Worf had sharply informed the boy that anxiety was unbecoming of a warrior.
"It's only Deanna, father." Said Alexander, not helping in the least. "She's been here before you know," he was sure that his father would face a visit from the entire ruling council with less trepidation than he was displaying now, but was at a loss to explain why.
Worf stopped pacing for a moment and faced his son. "Of course I know that," he hissed in frustration, "But there are things I need to discuss with her,"
"like what?"
"I," he scowled "I do not have to explain my self to you,"
The boy shrugged, unconcerned by the harshness in his father's voice, "Whatever it is, it's making you nervous," he observed.
"I am not nervous!" snapped Worf, but was he really? Relations between he and their striking empathic counsellor had been steadily warming since he first turned to her for help with Alexander, and over the last few months especially he had found himself wanting to spend more and more time with her. He'd always known she was a beautiful woman, but when they'd first come aboard her small stature and gentle nature had convinced him that she would be too fragile for Klingon mating, and he had pushed away his initial attraction to her. Experience had taught him how wrong he might have been. He'd seen her face down their most implacable enemies with an otherworldly calm, and he'd watched amazed as she levelled opponents almost twice her size at Mok'bra. A fire blazed in Deanna Troi's soul hot enough to challenge the most ardent warrior; that she kept it hidden beneath the image of a demure and softly spoken Starfleet officer only intrigued him more. After the holodeck today he knew his interest was reciprocated, and tonight he was going to act on it. What he didn't know was how, and it was that which was unsettling him. If Deanna was here, he was sure she'd be telling him to simply follow his heart, and surely she would never expect him to be anything less than he was around her, but at the same time he didn't want to scare her. He shook his head at the thought, in all the time he'd known her he'd never seen her scared. Of anything. Maybe the direct route was best. The door chimed.
"Come," Any remaining uncertainty vanished as she stepped into his quarters, and he walked right up to her and kissed her. He felt her tense in his arms, and for one terrible moment he thought that she was going to pull away, but then she relaxed and kissed him back.
End.