It happens as it often does for us – a mutual conclusion communicated with a subtle look. Alone in one of the conference rooms, reviewing a model for tomorrow' briefing, I reach up to point out one of the areas of concern and accidently brush against his hand. Which he captures in his. With the slightest of nods I answer the unspoken question. After months of pushing away the tug of attraction, it was time – time to take the next step. To explore whether this would settle into a comfortable and caring friendship with benefits or grow into something more with all the complexities that accompany a romantic partnership on board a starship. Still holding hands, he closes the model and I grab the data pad projecting it. As the door to the hallway opens, our hands part and we leave in opposite directions for the same destination.
Slowly awakening, I first notice our hands clasped in the middle of the bed. Turning carefully to maintain that contact, I prop up on my other elbow, chin resting in the palm of my hand. Chris is sleeping on his back, arms stretched out, like he meets the universe when awake, boldly and openly. His head is tilted a bit to one side and there is a slight smile on his face. The bedsheet is scrunched into a mess, casually tossed across his lower waist but falling short of his other leg. His hair is completely disheveled. I have mussed the Captain! The thought makes me feel wonderfully naughty. Noticing the clock, I lay my head on his chest, wrapping his arm around my shoulders, hands still clasped. Only 3:45am, the middle of the change to alpha shift. I can sleep another hour and slip back to my own quarters before most of the crew is awake.
Unfortunately, on a starship sunlight does not stream through the windows to remind your body it is time to wake up. My eyes open and reality hits me. Oh damn, I think as I jump out of bed and begin quickly, ok frantically, sorting through the clothes we tossed on the floor last night. Chris sits up in bed blinking at me sleepily. "Going somewhere?" he asks.
"My shift starts in a little over an hour."
"Oh," is his insightful reply.
I roll my eyes at him. It has been a while since he has had to worry about reporting for duty on time. "This is a disaster," I mumble to myself. Fully awake now, he looks at me with a bewildered and faintly hurt expression. Realizing my mistake, I sit on the edge of the bed and cup my hands around his face. "Not last night," I kiss him in a manner he won't soon forget and continue, "last night was incredible. And special. I planned to go back to my quarters at five, it's almost seven, half the ship is now up." I stop and point to the shirt I am holding, "And, I will be walking back to my room in yesterday's civilian clothes. I will stick out like a Ferengi at a charity event."
He brushes my forehead with a chaste kiss and replies with a bemused expression, "The crew is going to figure it out."
"I am happy if people know we are together, but not this way." I shake my head miserably. "It's been years since I've done a walk of shame after sleeping with the boss."
Delighted to find a way to tease me Chris grins and then asks, "Has this been a frequent problem for you?"
Ignoring him I concentrate on my more immediate concern. And then the solution hits me, well not a solution, but better than my current predicament. I'm in the Captain's quarters, the senior staff have their own replicators, I can get a new uniform. Having beat me to the idea, Chris says a bit sheepishly, "The replicator hasn't worked for a couple of days. I keep forgetting to tell Engineering."
So much for the perks of command. I sigh. Nothing left to do but get it over with. And I remind myself, no one will see me leaving this deck which contains only quarters for the command crew and VIPs. Unless I cross paths with someone from a species with an extremely sensitive olfactory system, no one will know who I was with. Hope reemerges. I can do this. "Wait at least 15 minutes before leaving so we don't end up on the same lift," I order. Laughter from inside trails me as I head out the door.
Halfway to my room I realize I left my data pad in Chris' quarters. The one I need for the briefing later this morning. The one whose information has not yet been transferred to the main computer. After hanging my head and indulging in a few seconds of self-pity I quickly retrace my steps. I don't have the security code required to enter the Captain's quarters. I need to get back before he leaves.
The universe smiles on me, and we somehow end up alone in the same turbolift. But before I can explain the door opens and Spock walks in. He nods to me and then says, "Good morning Captain, I am gratified to see you especially relaxed and well-rested this morning. Dr. Boyce will be pleased you are following his instructions."
As Spock continues talking, Chris shoots me a sideways glance and grins. So much for a benevolent universe. "Captain, there is a rumor you were engaged in recreational activities below decks last night. You do not usually participate in team sports on board the ship."
No, No, No, please no. Did he just say that! The lyrics to a long-forgotten song begin running though my head. When you're alone and life is making you lonely you can always go … downtown.
I can't decide whether to cry with dismay or laugh hysterically. Both try to rush out and it ends up as a strangled whimper. Spock raises an eyebrow, about to ask if I am well. Chris looks completely serene, like a Buddha with a tiny knowing smile. He instructs the lift to stop at the next exit. I stumble out and sag against the wall.
ooooo
Commander Una and Phil Boyce are comparing notes over breakfast when Spock joins their table. "Mr. Spock, you look puzzled," Phil comments.
"Having heard the same phrase repeated in separate conversations this morning, I am reviewing last night's reports to determine why a crew member is walking in shame." Spock answers as he continues reading.
"Was there a problem?" Una inquires wondering if she missed something important.
"Not that I have found. Why would a crew member feel shame when seen out of uniform and wearing the same clothes as the previous night?" Spock asks. "The Captain suggested the crewman was likely working late and lost track of time."
Una and Phil trade a knowing look. "Oh. Finally." Phil says for them both. Then mutters to himself, "They have been circling each other for months and he couldn't wait one more damn week? I picked next Tuesday in the pool." He explains to Spock, "The phrase, walk of shame, is a human idiom. An old one. Typically it refers to someone seen going home the morning after spending the night somewhere else."
Spock looks confused. Una clarifies, "That someone wasn't alone, wherever they spent the night."
"Meaning therefore, two consenting adults performed mating rituals acceptable to their culture. I do not see the connection to the phrase. Why be embarrassed because colleagues are aware one engaged in sex? That is not logical," Spock replies. Then he thinks for a moment. "I won the pool."
"What?!" Una looks flabbergasted.
"The betting pool. Lieutenant Scott insisted that Scottish intuition was better than Vulcan logic for predicting when the Captain and the Lieutenant would, as he phrased it 'get together'. He dared me to pick a date. I rigorously examined the subjects, calculated the variables, and decided within an acceptable margin of error it would be yesterday," Spock explains patiently with a deadpan expression.
Phil shoots Una a 'I get to tell Chris' glace while he struggles not to snicker.
"Though this now leads to another question. Earlier, in the turbolift, I mentioned Captain Pike was engaged 'below decks' last night referring to the basketball tournament and the Lieutenant's reaction was, using another human idiom, to say the least, unexpected. She suddenly appeared unwell, flushed, and hoarse; perhaps you should perform an examination Doctor. And please elucidate."
"Umm, Spock," Una starts and then grinning impishly, continues, "this is one of those questions you should ask of the Captain."
A/N: "below decks" is 23rd century slang for "downtown."