Aalin was surprised to find Chris dressed in civilian clothes and puttering around their quarters when she returned from her shift. "Are you ok?" she immediately asked concern evident in her tone.
"Of course, why would you assume otherwise?"
"You're not usually done with work this early."
He walked over, circled his arms around her waist, and leaned down for a kiss. "Do you know what day this is?"
"Monday? Days kind of run together on a starship roaming through space."
"Well, yes, it is Monday. But I was referring to something more significant than the day of the week," he prompted while unzipping Aalin's uniform jacket and slipping it off.
"Some sort of sort of ship-wide holiday?"
He kissed the side of her neck and nipped at the spot where her shoulder and neck meet. "No. But that is an intriguing idea."
She sniffed delicately. "You're making dinner?"
"Yes. For my beautiful wife as is appropriate on this day." Chris pulled her closer and swayed them in an impromptu, musicless slow dance. "Why the smile? Did you figure it out?"
"I still haven't the slightest idea what day this is, but I like it already." Aalin reached up and caressed his cheek, then ran her hands over his shoulders and down smoothing the soft material of his light grey turtleneck. "It is chilly in here."
"Yes. You should put on a sweater. Go change while I finish putting things together."
By the time she returned dressed in soft clingy black pants and a sweater the color of a dusky blue desert sky, the lights were dimmed, and candlelight flickered. The chairs which normally sat opposite were now arranged on adjoining sides of the table, as close to its corner and each other as was physically possible. Between them one place setting was laid with two sets of silverware. Aalin didn't remember when the habit began, probably on a lazy morning with breakfast in bed, she thought. But now, as often as not, they curled up on the couch during dinner, sharing a common plate and trivialities about their day. There is something amazing intimate when personal space melds together when eating a meal.
Chris held out a chair dropping a kiss on the top of Aalin's head while settling her into it. She queried as he brought two dishes from the small kitchen area, "Is there a problem with ship's power?"
"Ah no. Why do you ask?"
"The chilly room. I thought maybe we were conserving again?"
"That's fixed. I purposefully lowered the temperature in here." Dimples making an appearance he added with a playful grin, "Makes for cozier snuggling." He poured her half a glass of wine. "Though we're splurging, this is your limit for the evening," he said firmly.
"You're never going to let me forget that night, are you?'
"You almost fell off the transporter platform," he reminded.
"It wasn't my fault," she protested.
"No. But like Vulcans and chocolate, even a small amount of alcohol goes to your head." Taking his own seat, Chris clasped her hand and kissed its palm then the wrist before twining his fingers with hers. He speared an orange from the salad offering Aalin the bite.
"You made my favorites, thank you."
"Dessert is new. And before you start with the questions, a surprise. I've been tinkering with the idea for a while."
She pretended to pout. "Not even a hint?"
"Red. Which is also a clue to the other mystery you are pondering."
"I give up. What day is this?"
"Valentine's Day." Chris paused. "I know it fell out of mainstream favor nearly half a century ago, but my folks still celebrate it, they always have. Every year, no matter what was happening in our lives, they bundled me off to grandparents and spent an evening and night focused solely on each other. I assume your mother and father did not."
"Half the time my parents aren't in the same city as the other, so I doubt it."
He gave her hand an affectionate squeeze before letting go. "Perhaps it's corny. But I like for at least one day in the year, a day that isn't uniquely special in another way such as an anniversary, laying aside all else and prioritizing the most important person in your life, the one you cherish. I want that for us."
"That's …" Aalin stopped, eyes dewy and shining. "That's one of the loveliest things anyone has ever said to me."
Chris cupped her chin and rubbed his thumb across her cheek, brushing away a tear snaking down it. Then he refocused them on dinner. "If they are so often apart, how did your parents manage to have and raise five children?"
She chuckled. "Just in case you missed the birds and the bees lesson at school, making the child doesn't require more than a few minutes of, shall we say, mutual time."
It was an evening of layered intimacy; kisses and touch, a meal shared, conversation about random inconsequence things, laughter, confidences exchanged, stretches of comfortable silence without the need to fill it. They nestled on the sofa; Chris' arm draped around Aalin's shoulder, his fingers idlily stroked her arm. Her head rested on his shoulder. Soft jazz, the romantic kind, a la Nina Simone, Billie Holiday, and Ana Caram played in the background.
Aalin laid her hand on his chest and sat up. "Who's minding the store?"
Chris tried coaxing her back against him. "Spock. He's taking the evening and overnight watches. It will be good experience for him."
"How did you get fresh raspberries?"
"The last planet we surveyed. Not true Terran raspberries but very similar. Chef took a cutting from the bush. The botanists think it'll grow in the hydroponic bay. Scary movie?"
She pushed further away. "Seriously? Isn't that a predictable cliché? The frightened girl falls into the handsome man's arms?"
"If I may point out, you were in my arms. I'm simply trying to get you back there," Chris replied edging closer. "Or …" he gently pushed Aalin down until her head rested on the pillowing leaning against the sofa's arm. He hovered over her propped on his right arm, weight balanced on that arm and knees, left hand roaming her hip and side. They kissed. Stopped for a breath. And kissed again. The kisses became increasingly penetrating and erotic, blurring the boundaries between them. For both it felt as if time had suspended, as if they had the ship to themselves …
The door chimed.
Chris broke contact long enough to whisper, "Ignore it."
A second chime sounded.
"Go away," he called out in his firm commander's tone of voice.
"They can't hear you," Aalin interjected.
He grinned. "Ok then." He pitched his voice louder. "Go away, I'm making love to my wife."
Through their five months of marriage, Aalin was learning her husband had an impish playful side. It didn't surface often, at least not on the ship. She often wondered if this aspect of his personality would be more apparent when on leave.
The response was a third chime.
"If it were important, the bridge would have called," Chris assured. He added stressing the first words, "Via the intercom. Meaning it's either someone with a last-minute request they're hesitant to take to Number One and therefore be on the bad end of one of her preparedness and planning ahead lectures, or it's Phil intent on mischief." His hand snaked up her sweater. "Now, where were we?" He trailed kisses across her collarbone and down.
A fourth chime rang out.
"Have you considered whoever is out there will become concerned and get security or medical to override the lock?" Aalin warned as she half-heartedly pushed him away.
"Isak's married, he'd call first to double check. As for Phil … damn …"
She sat up and straightened her clothes while Chris trudged to the door. He, in a humorless tone of voice, groused as the doors swished open, "This better be important."
"It is sir," Spock responded.
Chris crooked his finger and the Vulcan leaned closer. "I told you not to interrupt me for anything but an impending supernova." He paused. "A big one," Chris added with emphasis. "A really big one. A record breaker. One never before seen or recorded."
"Captain, many supernovae have occurred unseen by Federation eyes and undetected by our sensors," Spock pointed out and then pronounced, "Therefore your criteria are flawed."
Chris' head swiveled towards his wife as she tried to suppress a chuckle. He scowled at her. That unleashed her amusement.
Spock continued, "However, indeed, I am here to report an impending supernova."
"How close?" Chris demanded.
"To what are you referring sir?" Spock inquired.
"The …" damn, Chris thought before continuing, "star that is about to or has already exploded."
"I see. Close enough."
The Captain took over and he interrogated in rapid fire, "When will we intersect with the aftereffects? Can the ship be adequately shield from the path of destruction? If not, can we go around it?"
Spock answered the questions in order. "We shall not. Shielding is unnecessary. There is no need."
Chris' mouth gaped open for a second. Confused, he tilted his head tilted slightly to the side. "What?!"
"We shall not. Shielding is unnecessary. There is no need," Spock repeated in a serene monotone.
"No … I … mean," Chris sputtered. "If this phenomenon is not a danger to the ship, then why, exactly, did you come to here, at this moment, to deliver a report about it?" Immediately Chris realized his mistake as Spock explained, in precise detail, his reasons.
"… In conclusion, it is a uniquely interesting supernova meriting closer study and therefore …"
Chris held up a hand. Spock paused. Chris said in a less than patient tone of voice, "Very well. Study it. Wake the rest of the ship if needed." He keyed the doors to close. As they did, he added, "You can tell me all about it in the morning."
"I shall prepare sir," Spock promised.
Returning to Aalin, Chris held out his hand. While leading her to the bedroom he remarked, "Next year we're bundling a certain Vulcan off to the grandparents."