She left the bedroom, dressed in uniform and lab coat, and found him placing a basket of croissants on the little table by the window. He glanced up, "I made coffee," nodded towards the steaming carafe. She smiled and gratefully poured a cup of coffee, took a sip of the steaming brew. He slid a padd towards her, tapped at the report on the screen. "Beverly, I have to ask..does the research team know that you and I were the two subjects in your report?"
She set down the mug, taking in his careful posture. What is he afraid of?
"No. They only know that I studied the two subjects in depth. Which is most certainly true," she said almost to herself, as the side of her mouth quirked up in an involuntary smile.
He nodded, looking down, then up, as if he had reconciled something in his mind. "You do realize that I love you, Beverly, don't you?" He was quite matter of fact with his pronouncement, and her eyes widened at the unexpected turn of the conversation, along with the unnerving intensity with which he was gazing at her. Well, yes, but-
He stepped closer to her, so that they were face to face, and since she was dressed in uniform and boots, nearly eye to eye. His voice dropped to a focused murmur. "Beverly, I love you in every single sense of the word." She stopped breathing, mesmerized by his intensity, distracted by his closeness.
"And I intend on making sure that everyone else knows it, as well."
She blinked slowly, in utter shock now. And he leaned forward and kissed her. Oh my. It was firm, full of intent and just on the edge of forceful, then he drew back a tiny bit, lingered, and she felt herself softening underneath his mouth, and she felt his hand slide underneath her hair against her neck, and his palm and fingers completely covered the back of her neck, his thumb brushing against her ear as he pulled her against him. Her hands went up between them and her palms pressed against his chest, the fabric of his uniform warm against her hands.
This was a very, very good kiss. He pulled back and she felt herself leaning back towards him, missing the contact, missing him, and he slid his cheek against hers. "We're supposed to be going to Sickbay, aren't we?" He whispered into her ear.
What? Sickbay? Oh. Oh. Yes. Sickbay. She backed up slowly, meeting his eyes, distracted by his closeness and also a little tiny bit irritated that his mere kiss could disorient her so. Perhaps the reason she had stayed at arms' length from him all these years was because they didn't have the time to simply fall into bed together. The chemistry was just that potent.
"Beverly." It was a statement, not a question, and he gently kissed underneath her ear, in the hollow, and she shivered. "Sickbay," he whispered.
"Hmmm. Yes, Sickbay." She stepped back and broke their physical contact, needing a moment, and he was watching her face - ah, he was endearingly nervous, not nearly as confident as he had sounded when whispering in her ear. He was assessing whether he had crossed a line too soon. She gave him a reassuring smile, then, impulsively, she leaned forward and kissed him again. This time, her hands were on his face, and she guided him.
Far too soon, she pulled back with a contented sigh. "We should be going to Sickbay. And I love you, too, Jean-Luc. I have for a very, very long time." He smiled at her, and her stomach flipped. This is going to be so much fun.
They walked down the corridor towards Sickbay, just like they had hundreds of times before on the former Enterprise. But this time, his hand brushed against hers. In the past, hands brushing against each other happened, but it was an unspoken rule that such contact was reserved for behind closed doors, giving comfort or reassurance. The brush of his hand against hers, in the middle of the corridor, it was new, different.
Sickbay was just around the bend. The clear doors slid open at their approach, the pair entered, and Beverly smiled at the warm, familiar bustle of energy. It was midday, and there were doctors, nurses, crew, patients sitting, standing, talking, healing. It felt alive and vibrant. She saw Wilson from across the room, and he lifted his chin in a greeting and came towards them across the main bay with a smile.
"Beverly, you look well rested. And lovely as usual." He gently, almost absently touched her arm, then greeted Picard. She turned to watch them, glanced at Jean-Luc, then focused sharply. He was glowering at Wilson, darkness radiating off of him. His expression…well, she hadn't seen that expression on him since the previous Enterprise. He was flat, closed off, icy cool.
Withdrawn. And furious at something.
It disturbed her.
Picard and Crusher stood in the middle of Sickbay as Wilson evaluated the two, explaining what he was doing. "I'm recording a baseline for your brainwave signatures. As Dr. Crusher said, there's something about the chemical makeup of the Trium that has the potential to affect other humanoids and their thought processes. Ideally, this will be manifested only as simple headaches and generalized physical pain, but we'll make sure that we observe your brainwave signatures just in case."
With that proclamation, he snapped closed his tricorder with a warm smile. "You're both free to go. I hope the negotiations go well. And Beverly, take good care of my lab coat."
