A flutter of dark material seen in the far room, his most private space, caught Pike's attention. His shoulders pushed back; a slice of his brain assumed a cautionary alert. Without turning or lifting his head, he multitasked focus between peripheral vision and the man at his side while simultaneously continuing a conversation with this former commanding officer. They stood near the entry to the Captain's quarters, Robert April closer to its door.
"I'll say it again, Chris. Helluva of a tactic. Though for a moment, while you explained to the R'ogovians why they shouldn't align with the Federation, I'll admit I considered confining you to the brig and ordering a psych eval."
"Fair enough. But the horses are safely back in the barn and bedded for the night," Pike said, his eyes searching for a repeat sighting as he combed his memory for Aalin's duty schedule. She's off shift today, he confirmed to himself. Shoulders returned to a more relaxed posture.
Shifting fabric grazing the floor and the sway of a hip pivoted Chris' full attention to the bedroom.
"In other words, all's well that ends well." The Admiral shook his head. "Well played. With a bit of luck thrown in."
Having heard familiar voices, Aalin carefully positioned in the threshold between the living area and their bedroom, within Chris' field of vision, but hidden from April's by the wall at the entry which curved outward. Leaning against the doorframe, she presented a profile to her husband. Fabric fell away from a leg slightly bent at the knee. He noted the color of the dress she wore was maroon, deep maroon, which complimented her complexion and hair.
She smiled at him.
"Chris?" Bob said then repeated his observation about their new alliance with the R'ogovians.
Pike forced his focus back to the flag officer. "Yes, of course. We'll take care of it."
"What the hell?" Bob asked. "Take care of what?"
"The overdue maintenance."
Aalin turned, now resting her arm and shoulder against the doorframe. Among the dark panels of material falling from her waist to the floor were semi-transparent maroon sections of similar length with hints of dark stitching, and other panels which hid no secrets. The neckline of her dress plunged in a deep and wide vee, if the narrow bands of silk material gathered at her shoulders, widening slightly as they reached her breasts, joining half-an-inch above her waist then wrapping around it could be termed a neckline. Chris normalized his breathing before it hitched within Bob's hearing.
Turning to his friend, Pike clapped a hand on his shoulder then encouraged April to the exit with a light push, thumbing the controls for opening the door while saying, "Thank you."
Having seen Aalin's bared calf and ankle, Bob's face split into a wide, knowing grin. "Oughta order a snap level six inspection for Enterprise, commander's presence required for the many long hours needed to complete it. A little payback for not explaining your hunch before plowing ahead."
"Go away," Chris said in a forceful tone, his chin lifting in that authoritative way.
Seconds later Bob found himself standing in the hallway facing a closed door. He chuckled on his way to the turbolift and decided to check-in with Una before returning to the Starbase.
"Engage lock," Chris ordered the computer. He crooked his finger at Aalin beckoning her closer.
The multi-paneled skirt swayed as she walked towards him, revealing her legs from hip and pelvis to ankle. Semi-transparent fabric also flowed from her shoulders. When she reached him, he took her hand; she slowly turned in a circle. The back of the dress was maroon lace, mostly sheer; this netting also covered the sides of her waist.
"Hey."
"Hey."
"You like?" she asked.
He nodded. Very enthusiastically. Words would not form.
Aalin laughed when his expression turned slightly nervous. "Relax. The dress is new. You haven't seen it before and forgotten."
Dimples appeared. "Good. Otherwise, I'd have to resign my commission. Not remembering the sight of you in …" his hand waved up and down her body, "this … well … automatically declares me unfit to command."
Her cheeks warmed and tinged pink. The corner of her mouth quirked to the side.
He echoed the tick. "Excellent choice by the way." His eyes shone bright, vivid blue and twinkled with pleasure.
"A present from T'Pring. Yesterday when the R'ogovians pushed up negotiations interrupting her visit with Spock, we went shopping. She thinks our relationship needs more priority. This dress was her subtle hint. The extensive lecture over a lengthy lunch was less understated."
"Here's to Vulcan psychiatrists then." His head bobbed and a grin formed. "Always knew I liked her." He replaced the harsh overhead lighting with the warm and cozy low illumination of lamps and dozens of holographic candles. Then poured a drink. "Want anything?" After her negative headshake he said, "Many Earthers still repeat the fiction we created in our early dealings with Vulcan, that their choice of a logical framework ordering their minds and emotions means cold, distant, and unloving. Yet for a Vulcan, the relationship with their bondmate is paramount above all else including career, and worthy of sacrifice. We'd do well to learn from them."
Aalin smiled, the one she reserved for him. It was warm, soft, delicate, subtle, and communicated a range of caring sentiments. "Chris, you balance captain and husband well. Frequently this ship and crew are going to be your most urgent priority. And that's okay."
He gathered her into his arms. "Ditto on the subordinate and lover thing you juggle which I do understand isn't easy." His lips brushed the top of her head and the dimples reappeared. "But you married me anyway."
"You ordered me to. Remember?" Her tone was a mixture of mock scolding and amusement.
His smile widened.
"Rumor is, due to a brilliant tactic by this ship's Captain, the Federation has a new partner."
"A little bit of empathy, that's all."
With feet bare, the top of her head skimmed his shoulder. Standing on tiptoes, Aalin whispered in his ear, "There's my handsome, humble love. What reward do you wish to claim?"
The door's notification chimed. "Sir? I need authorization for …"
"Oh hell," Chris muttered. He shooed her into a far corner of the bedroom, out of sight of the rest of their rooms. After approving the junior lieutenant's request he said in stern voice, "Pass the word, I'm not to be disturbed except for onboard fire spanning multiple decks or enemy attack, a really serious foe like the Klingons or Tholians."
Task completed, crew member dispatched, orders given, he entered the bedroom and stripped off his uniform tunic leaving on the black undershirt. His hands rubbed together. "Where were we … ah yes … claiming my reward."
She placed a hand on his chest when he approached. "Now the crew is going to assume …"
He clasped that hand, tugging it to her side then kissed the spot where her neck and shoulder meet. "And they'd be right. I'm making love to my wife without interruptions."
"You're very confident."
"My instructions were precise. Ardent even." He paused, evaluated multiple factors such as duty assignments and transporter logs before adding with confidence, "And Erica's still off-ship."
Aalin stood close to a wall; his knee nudged her against it. Holding her gaze the palm of his hand slid up from her waist skimming the sides of her breasts not covered by the dress; it's fingertips stroking across her collarbone. Her back arched at his touch.
Chris traced his nose from her forehead down to her chin. Their mouths edged closer and closer, waiting, hovering, anticipating.
They kissed. Once like a whisper. Again with more pressure. A third time with the intimacy built through a years' long love story.
Chris pushed one of the straps off Aalin's shoulder, fingers stroked over it and down her arm. He walked them to the bed. With exquisite leisure their hands and lips roamed. Stress from the encounter with the Gorn fell away, along with its scare of almost losing one another. An uncertain future faded.
The hours passed; they stayed in each other's arms. No fires were reported, no enemies attacked.