Hot Saints and Cold Shoulders

Giotto released a sharp breath when the shower door closed behind him. Hours of working to burn off tension had been completely shot to hell by the sudden appearance of a naked and incredibly persistent young woman. Gaila was clearly determined to drive him insane. Sam wasn't about to start behaving like some mindless stag losing all sense at the scent of a doe, but adding visual to biochemical stimuli had been hitting below the belt (in more ways than one). Stripping, he set the shower to a temperature barely above 'sleet'. Anything else would come too close to giving in to pheromones.

As he let the cold soak in, Sam considered ways to murder his so-called best friend. He hadn't been with anyone since Maria had died and at the moment temporary insanity struck him as a perfectly reasonable defense for killing his Captain. Sticking him with a randy 19-year-old Orion Cadet - there really ought to be a special place in hell for that, preferably a spot in a narrow cage with green succubi dancing around just out reach...

Fortunately Gaila's latest attempt at seduction had set off enough internal alarms to keep him on the straight and narrow. If you were in security long enough, certain assumptions became automatic: the pretty young thing who offered you a drink had probably drugged it; the scantily-clad dancer was likely there to keep you from noticing the guy creeping past your position; and the knock-out who wanted to come back to your place was almost certainly more interested in having a way inside your defenses than having you inside of her.

If you wanted to survive, and more importantly, if you wanted the people you were sworn to protect to survive, you learned to be very, very good at resisting temptation. By this point in his career, Giotto had a long and impressive record when it came to survival.

He shut off the shower and shook the icy water from his hair. He was on duty here. Despite Dr. Boyce's contention that he was beginning to make Vulcans look warm and cuddly, work was what had kept him sane since losing Maria and that single-minded focus had served him well. Staying focused was a matter of resolve and Sam had, as his wife had been fond of saying, 'a textbook case of stubborn'.

If all else failed, he would just recall that wherever Maria was now, he could've sworn he'd heard her laughing when Gaila had made that offer to let him tie her up.

Gaila might not be especially good at taking 'no' for an answer, but Giotto was confident that he could keeping saying it.

.

.

Gaila looked in the mirror, submitting her reflection to a thorough and critical evaluation. There was only one possible conclusion: she was totally hot.

She really was. Basic training and all those drills at the Academy had left her even more toned and shapely than when she'd first met Capt. Pike. Like most men, his eyes had nearly popped out of his head when he'd seen her naked.

Beyond the first moment, Giotto hadn't quite shown it, but he'd definitely been turned on. Scent did not lie. Yet for some bizarre reason, he'd absolutely refused to do anything about it. Well, other than whatever he was doing in a long shower, which in her opinion was a complete waste given the availability of a perfectly willing partner.

...Maybe she was too willing? She'd heard that some men didn't like women to be 'too easy'. Of course, she'd never met one. Gaila looked at the rounded curves of smooth, green skin in the mirror. Nah. Hard-to-get could be fun to play, but when it came to bouncing fit, attractive bodies together, there really was no such thing as 'too easy'.

A dark little doubt nagged at her. What if that line he wouldn't cross was there because he thought she might be some kind of spy? Nearly all of the Orions in earth holovids were either slave girls, Syndicate, or pirates. It was a preposterous stereotype, and she'd been through enough psych tests for Academy admission, not to mention the interview panel with two Betazoids, to make the idea ridiculous. Still...

No. Pike had said that she could trust Giotto, and she trusted Pike. Chris wouldn't stick her with someone who was prejudiced against Orions.

So what was the problem?

It couldn't be because she was a cadet. He wasn't an instructor, or even an engineer, so favoritism wasn't an issue. Sure, he out-ranked her, but the idea of the Commander using rank to coerce her was laughable. Some stereotypes about Orions were true and Giotto had a strong, well-muscled body. Anyone with even a little xenopsychology would know that she'd gladly do him just for the fun of it. Besides, after being alone together on this shuttle, people were going to assume they'd done it anyway.

So why wouldn't he?

One way or another she was going to find out. Of course the best way would involve some hot UST-releasing sex afterward, but once she got the reason out of Giotto, that shouldn't be a problem. Humans had so many silly hang-ups about sex. There were times when she honestly felt like some kind of missionary bringing enlightenment to superstitious tribesmen. It was practically a calling. And she had a really high conversion rate.

hmm. 'Saint Gaila' had a nice ring to it...

She looked over her wardrobe and smiled. The Commander had asked her to be dressed, but he hadn't said in what. Sometimes the right dress was even sexier than being naked.

.

.

Giotto set out two plates of lasagna. He was aware that he had probably offended Gaila and even the inferior replicated version should count as a minor peace offering. Besides, it was a dish that made him think of grandmother's restaurant and family dinners with his parents, which were possibly the least erotic thoughts in the known universe.

Taking a seat, he began scanning a logistics report (which was probably the least erotic reading material in the known universe). It would however hold his focus, especially since he'd already noted evidence that some idiot's 'design for minimum cost' would make upgrading his tactical systems next to impossible. In fact, it wasn't long before Giotto was thoroughly absorbed in composing a choicely-worded response to a 'chairborne ranger' who richly deserved to be posted somewhere in the Neutral Zone armed with only his own cost-saving measures.

"What are you up to, Commander?" Gaila interrupted with a little purr of double entendre. She was wearing a micro-dress that appeared to be made of translucent crepe paper held together with spider webs.

Interesting choice. Sam briefly entertained an evil fantasy about siccing Gaila on a certain faceless bureaucrat, but decided that the man would probably give in too easily and enjoy it too much. No, if he made his response a borderline threat and cc'ed Chris, he could torture two birds with one stone.

"Nothing, Cadet. Just catching up on some correspondence."

"I hope that's not work, Commander, because I was told to make sure you put that PADD down and had some fun." She leaned over, causing her paper-thin dress to leave even less to the imagination. "You wouldn't want me to ignore an order, would you?"

Forget borderline. He was going to write a blatant, direct threat to establish state-of-mind for when he got back and beat his Captain to death with a roll of crepe paper.

"Have a seat, Cadet." He set the PADD aside and lifted the cover from his plate. Nice, prosaic, homey lasagna. "Our food should still be warm."

Gaila paused a moment and Giotto smiled to himself. His chair was pushed too far in for her to take any seat but the empty one on the other side of the table.

"Mmm," she murmured, exuding a little cloud of pheromones as she settled into her chair. "Italian."

Giotto took a shallow breath and told himself firmly that her comment pertained to food. Besides, he'd been born on Asimov Station, so technically he was a Martian. "This doesn't quite count, but there are several good restaurants outside the Academy. I can give you some names when we get back."

"You could take me," she suggested. "Then you can show me what you like. I'll try anything."

Yes, apparently she would, including bad lines. "We're on the way to your home at the moment, Cadet. You mentioned earlier that your mother isn't too fond of Starfleet. Would it make things easier if I found a hotel?"

"No!"

He glanced up in surprise.

"...that is, Ama probably isn't going to greet you with open arms, but she'd be really insulted if you decided to stay at a hotel." Gaila switched to an enthusiastic smile and bounced a little. "Besides, the bed in the guest room is huge! All of my sisters can join us."

Sam considered the ice in his glass while carefully detaching his libido from that last sentence. Ice. He could think of at least three ways to kill someone with ice cubes, all of them far too quick and merciful for Chris.

"I was under the impression that you still had your own room."

"Oh, it's okay," she replied brightly. "I do. If you're worried about hurting someone with that waking violently thing, we'll all clear out before you fall asleep."

Hmm. Maybe he should have her to speak to that moron in logistics. Gaila at least seemed to have some grasp of planning ahead to avoid the potential for negative outcomes.

"It would be worth warning your sisters-"

"Was that it?" She clapped her hands and started to get up. "You could have just said so! I really don't mind not cuddling afterward."

Sam shook his head, motioning for her to sit back down. "I was going to add that it would be a good idea to stay out of my room anyway. I'd prefer not to contribute to your mother's already low opinion of Starfleet."

Gaila rolled her eyes. "It's Orion. Besides, the boys from next door come over all the time." She grinned at him. "You know, if we put an extra mattress on the floor-"

Giotto cleared his throat. "I do not like ...crowds."

"That's so strange."

It wasn't. Not if you'd ever had to investigate an assassination that had occurred in the middle of an orgy, but that was not a direction he intended to take this conversation.

"I'm sure those young men are eager to see you again." Giotto made a mental note to catch their faces so he wouldn't mistakenly break someone who wasn't actually breaking in. "And you'll want to catch up with your friends and family, so please, don't worry about entertaining me."

"But I want to, Commander." She paused and slowly sucked a bit of ricotta off her fork. "What kind of entertainment do you like?"

Watching people who richly deserve payback receive it. He didn't say it. There was a set answer that he'd prepared as an excuse to tag along and keep tabs on her for the next few days. "I enjoy visiting new places. I've never been to your part of Orion before, so I'm sure it will be interesting."

"I could take you all kinds of places." Gaila grinned slyly and let the dress slip down one shoulder.

Giotto closed his eyes. There was no one else on the ship who could be creeping past, but the impulse to look was there anyway. "I've heard that there's an interesting museum near the local marketplace."

"That's not what I meant."

"I know," he admitted. "But the places you're alluding to aren't in my travel plans."

"Why not?" Her brows drew down in bewilderment. "I can tell you like women and men with medical issues don't give off your kind of scent."

His eyebrows rose. He hadn't been planning to claim impotence since it seemed likely that she'd take that as even more of a challenge, but he hadn't realized she could literally smell that kind of lie. Good to know.

"Cadet," Giotto said patiently. "We've been over this. My personal life, preferences and/or mental health are not open for discussion."

She pursed her lips. "You know, Commander, you don't have to be embarrassed if it's something weird. I'm really flexible - and not just physically. I mean, Starfleet would never have taken you if you had the kind of fantasies I couldn't get into."

Sam looked down. A face plant into half-eaten lasagna would be extremely messy, which was the main thing stopping him. "Cadet, my only fantasy at the moment is to have this conversation end."

"Commander," Gaila replied in a throaty voice, running the edge of her foot up his calf. "There are plenty of things we could do besides talking."

Focus, Sam. He moved his leg and assumed a deadpan expression. "Would you like to help me write a strongly-worded objection to a logistics proposal?"

Gaila looked like she might throw something. That would be bad. A food fight held entirely too much potential for requiring another shower.

"Talking is fine," he conceded. To be safe, Giotto decided to suggest a topic that couldn't be easily steered toward the suggestive. "Why don't you tell me a little a more about your mother? I do have a bit of experience with people who have a negative opinion of Starfleet."

She arched an eyebrow, mouth set in a thin line. "I'll bet you do."

AN: This is an unplanned chapter that turned up because a comment from StarTrekFanWriter inspired an out take that morphed into a real chapter. Many thanks to my beta, Artemiis Boz, for helping with this on short notice. I tore a muscle in my leg and I've been on painkillers, so she had her work cut out in pulling me back from some lame jokes and meandering sentences.

Also, I forgot last time to thank NotesfromaClassroom for giving me a tip for writing clearer dialog. I really do appreciate suggestions that help me to become a better writer, esp. from people who write as well as Notes.

Ama = Orion for mother

'Chairborne ranger' is a slight anachronism, but it's one of those bits of military slang that really deserves to survive.

Giotto and Gaila will be on Orion in the next chapter. I promise.

Please r&r