"This one," Nyota says, pulling an emerald green dress from the back Anne's closet. For the past ten minutes, Nyota has been picking through her captain's wardrobe in search of a dress to wear to the banquet. The entire time, Anne just nods her head, agreeing with whatever her communications officer says because usually she doesn't care how she looks. However, tonight, she probably should. Anne turns away from her window, from the perfect view of the bay before her, to examine the garment Nyota has pulled. The green dress is floor-length and strapless, pulled in at the waist and corseted in the back. The chiffon bottom creates a beautiful A-line which Nyota tells her will make her look taller. Glancing at the bust, Anne determines that this dress will indeed do its task.
"That one," she confirms. Nyota smiles brightly and pulls her to the bathroom. Strewn across the floor are heaps of dresses that Nyota told Anne to try on but later denied.
"So, for you I'm thinking we should do a smoky eye look to go with the whole emerald green scheme that you're going to have going on." Nyota says, shuffling through all of the beauty products that she hauled over from her personal quarters just down the hall in a huge box. Scattered across the crème colored counter in front of the impeccable clean mirror is an array of eye shadow and liner in a multitude of colors, blush, and lipstick and a bunch of other makeup. Sitting next to the makeup are at least three different curling irons, two straighteners, and a crimping tool. Nyota continues to ramble about how good Anne is going to look before she's abruptly cut off.
"Nyota, I honestly do not care as long as I'm not going in my underwear," Anne explains, sighing. She honestly does not understand why her best communications officer is concerned so much about her appearance; she is already the most beautiful woman that Anne has ever met. Except maybe herself, but that's just the captain's massive ego talking.
"Then can I work my magic?" her friend asks with a hopeful smile.
"Go ahead." Nyota jumps up and down, clapping her manicured hands, excited for the chance to make her friend even more beautiful than she already is.
An hour later, the women are dressed in their gowns and Anne is waiting impatiently for Nyota, who is sporting a short, blood red dress that hugs her figure. Anne looks to her friend, waiting for her to stop fussing over her perfectly curled hair.
"Oh my God, you look perfect," Anne says, tapping her black flat on the floor to a slow beat. The noise echoes slightly throughout the room as she watches Nyota places the curling iron back onto the counter in the bathroom.
"I guess I do," Nyota resigns, dropping her hands to her sides. She turns to Anne in order to gauge her reaction to the question she's about to ask. "Anne, are you sure you want to do this?" She questions hesitantly, eyeing her captain nervously. Earlier, Spock had agreed that it be in the interest of her safety that Anne tell all the senior officers of the plan. No one had been happy about it and they protested for an hour in attempts to keep their friend safe. But she had put her foot down, telling them that the plan was set, she was only informing them of the events to come. She doesn't have a chance to respond before she hears a ding and when she snaps her head towards the door, Nyota sighs.
"Shut the hell up," Anne snaps before ordering the door open. Bones steps in, wearing a white button-up shirt and black trousers with his blue Starfleet Medical tie, looking very uncomfortable. He tugs at his tie before he gives up and shoves his hands in his pockets. Looking up at his best friend, his jaw slacks at the sight of her not in her usual yellow command dress.
"God damn," he says, looking at his best friend, not expecting her appearance.
"Bones, I don't give a fuck as to how I look," Anne responds sharply, her arms crossed. She is frowning upon the doctor's behavior, despite the fact that she loves attention.
"You look like you just fell from heaven or some shit-ass sappy line like that," he clarifies, clearing his throat and glancing back down at his polished black shoes.
Anne feels the blood rush to her face, turning her angular cheeks pink. "Thanks," she says in a small voice, turning away from her CMO awkwardly.
"Well," Nyota interjects, "we should get going." She states with finality in an attempt to keep the situation from becoming even more awkward than it already is.
The heavy bass pounds through the floor of Starfleet Headquarters' banquet hall. Spock stands on the dance floor, looking out of place while searching for Anne in the spot she will most likely head to first. To anyone who looks at the Vulcan, he looks as stoic as ever. But internally, Spock is having trouble keeping up his cool facade. His brown eyes scan the room, desperate to find the face that haunts him endlessly. Feeling her presence behind him through their bond (which she is unaware of), faintly but surely, he turns around to see her dancing her way towards him. His jaw slightly drops and he twitches a bit as he sees her looking ravishing in the green dress that he's starting to have inappropriate thoughts about tearing off.
No matter how hard his attempts, Spock can't bring himself to bring his eyes away from her stunning appearance. Even her hair is perfect, twisted into a low ponytail that cascades down her left shoulder, her dirty blonde hair creating a starting contrast to the makeup that adorns her face. Spock believes that is called a "smoky eye", and her lips have a deep red tint that pull his eyes down. For a moment, Spock is unsure if the dress will do its intended job, but as Anne gets closer, he sees the extent of the flattering dress and how the dress accentuates her curves as well as her breasts, which by most males' standards are too small, but Spock would care to disagree.
He feels his pulse rise as he fights the urge to close the distance between them. She must have the same idea as she takes charge and eliminates the space between their bodies, wrapping her arms around his neck. She rises onto her toes and hugs him tightly, her head resting lazily on his broad and muscular shoulder when she breaks their silence.
"To sell it," she whispers, her warm breath tickling the point of his ear. Spock lightly returns the embrace, his muscles moving without being commanded when the sweet scent of freshly picked lavender reaches his nose. He knows that she is acting, that this is just part of their plan, but Spock can't help but wish that this was real and she was doing this of her own accord because she felt the same way about him that he felt about her. Attempting to pull himself together, he compliments her.
"Captain, may I attempt to convey how astonishing you look this evening?" he questions. In response, Anne pulls back, returning to her normal height and looks at her first officer.
"Spock," she says. "Do you mean that?" she asks, wide-eyed with a small smile gracing her features.
"Certainly," he replies emotionlessly. Anne is about to reply, but before she can say anything the pair hears three taps on a microphone. Their heads whip to the disc jockey's station and they see none other than Thomas Wilkes. He's dressed in a black suit and around his neck sits a golden bow-tie. Anne winces at the painful sight of his outfit, practically curling into Spock to shield her from the atrocity.
"Good evening, crew of the USS Enterprise, I'm Thomas Wilkes and I will gladly be your host this evening. Dinner is being finished up as I speak, so I hope you're all hungry for a good home-cooked meal," he laughs. "In case you were unaware of the occasion for tonight's ceremony, I'll tell you. It is to congratulate you all on a job well done and to look forward to your futures." Wilkes looks toward the young captain and their eyes meet before he looks her up and down with a hungry look in his green eyes. "With that, everyone: bonne appetite!"
Taking Spock's arm, Anne leads them to the table with their names on it. They're sitting with Bones, Scotty, Uhura, Chekov and Sulu, chatting quietly when the first course comes around. It's a create-your-own salad which they bring around in bowls. They have toppings from cheese to chicken to tomatoes and more all placed on their table and ready for consumption. Anne reaches over to the bowl of lettuce and picks up a small amount of the leafy green. Looking over the options of toppings, she decides to keep it simple and puts only cheddar cheese in her salad.
"Captain, are you certain that the amount of nourishment that you intend to consume will be enough to satisfy your nutritional requirements?" Spock asks, glancing at the salad in front of Anne. In response, she glares at the science officer, her bright blue eyes that can only be described as "hers" looks over him. Her heart seems to skip multiple beats in her chest as she notes for the first time what he is actually dressed in. The baby blue dress uniform hugs his skin and the gold piping along the edges makes him look a bit pale in the hall, which is drowned in dim lighting that causes a few of the medals on Spock's chest to gleam. Looking back at his face, Anne realizes that Spock has been watching her in wait for a response.
"Yes, Spock; this should help to satisfy my nutritional needs. Keep in mind that most upscale Earth meals are served in three courses," she replies smoothly, drizzling a bit of ranch dressing over her small plate.
"That is highly illogical," Spock comments while turning back to the empty plate in front of him. Anne nods in agreement before the pair gets quiet, Anne eating her salad and Spock looking ahead stoically, the silence between them filled as their crewmembers chat idly amongst themselves.
As Anne glances around, she notes the way that her chief engineer is looking at Nyota. She smiles back at the engineer in a flirty manner, occasionally laughing at one of his incredibly bad jokes. He so likes her. Anne thinks. And she so likes him back. It's too bad that we're all going to be paired off and expected to marry. I wonder who I'd get stuck with if I wasn't going to be placed with Wilkes. She eyes her first officer subtly as she continues to ponder. I hope I'd get "stuck" with Spock, because I would so hate that. She adds sarcastically. An idea strikes Anne and she turns to her first officer. "Thpock," she says, mispronouncing the Vulcan's name while turning to him with her mouth stuffed full of salad.
"Captain, it is inappropriate to speak with your mouth full," Spock chastises as Anne realizes that she has a forkful of salad in her mouth. She swallows quickly, her gulp audible to the Vulcan next to her.
"Sorry," she apologizes, looking at him sheepishly. "I was just wondering…" she trails off, wondering if it's safe to ask her question at the moment. Thinking her options over, she decides that pulling Spock from the room and whisking him into a supply closet would be effective to the plan and allow her to ask her question. "Come with me?" She asks, batting her eyelashes at him while making what she would describe to be a "puppy-dog" face.
"Certainly, Captain," Spock responds, standing from his seat, giving in to his illogical want of being close to her.
Anne stands with him, brushing her skirt free of any debris. She shoots a suggestive look to Nyota for two reasons. One: she can see her flirting with Scotty through her suggestive looks and classic flirtatious moves, and two: to help sell the plan. Nyota glances back at Anne, a knowing wink accompanying her sly grin before she turns back to Scotty. Spock offers his arm and Anne gladly takes it, looking at her first officer somewhat mushily. They exit the banquet hall and walk silently but quickly down the hallways. Anne sees a figure up ahead and notes a storage closet up ahead. As they approach the figure, Anne is able to make out Thomas Wilkes's face. Perfect, she thinks as she pulls Spock into the storage closet. It's small in there and Anne takes charge, shoving the Vulcan back against the now closed door.
"Captain, what are you doing?" Spock asks, not bothering to hide the confusion in his voice. He can't help the odd feeling he gets in his stomach when he sees the little space separating them and her deep blue eyes gazing into his emotional brown ones. He resists the tug in his head to give in to his inappropriate desires that plague his usually logical mind.
"Play along," Anne instructs, pulling him back to her. She wraps her arms around his neck and removes the distance between their bodies. He relaxes a bit in her grasp, his muscles involuntarily loosening. She's on her toes, about to make a move when the door swings open, revealing Thomas. Anne hides her face, pretending to be embarrassed, but a smile pulls at her lips, knowing that her plan had worked. She notes that Spock has stiffened again, and wonders why he was even relaxed a minute ago to begin with.
"Excuse me," Wilkes says, his posture stiffening to become tenser than a rod, closing the door quickly. The pair stands in silence, hearing the fading footsteps of the ruthless dictator scurrying away from his awkward and maddening discovery.
"Fantastic," Anne whispers, her face still buried in Spock's chest. She basks in the warmth radiating from his body, inhaling his scent that is efficiently succeeding in seducing her.
"How do you mean?" Her first officer responds, looking at the stunning woman before him. He feels his mind begin to wander at how wonderful it feels to have her in front of him in a somewhat romantic situation. Pulling himself together, he looks down at Anne expectantly.
She looks up at him before explaining, her arms still around his neck. "It'll make him jealous to think that I have a non-professional relationship with you. It'll make him more vulnerable. If he thinks that we care for one another in an unprofessional manner, then logically, because he wants me as his own, he'll get defensive whenever I'm around you; resulting hopefully in his other senses becoming diluted. Hence, he should be more vulnerable and easier to take down." Well, if he thought that you care for me unprofessionally. Because it already applies to me since I'm trying really hard to not kiss you right now, Anne adds in her head.
Spock pales a bit before clearing his throat, as if he could read Anne's thoughts. She should be informed of the bond, he thinks. He remembers how long he's kept it from her and he is unsure if he can do it any longer. He first suspected it when Vulcan was destroyed by Nero and he felt her sympathy for him, and the idea was confirmed when she endeavored into the radiation chamber to save the crew as he felt half of his soul separated from him. It was odd that he had been able to survive her death; he wasn't even sure how he did it. If he believed in miracles, he may go far enough to say that it was one; but Spock doesn't believe in miracles. "Julie-Anne," he starts. She stops him by putting a finger to his lips and shushing him. Due to his touch-telepathy, Spock can feel her dominant emotions:
Hope, fright, satisfaction, worry, very strong affection, lust, and for a moment, Spock even thinks he can feel love coming from his captain.
He successfully conceals his confusion from her, but it is becoming harder for him to hide the animalistic side of the Vulcan species that has remained buried away from any non-Vulcan for thousands of years as he feels her soft touch lingering on his lips even after she lowers her hands back to her sides.
"We should be getting back," she whispers, avoiding his eyes. She can't believe that she let her emotions control her for even a moment; around Spock of all people. She opens the door, squinting as her eyes adjust to the bright light of the pristine halls. Despite Spock wanting to confess to her, he offers Anne his arm before they head back to the banquet hall. While wandering the white walkways, Anne remembers that there was a specific reason that she had asked Spock to meet privately with her, a reason that she cannot remember. She watches her feet as they walk, their feet barely making any noise against the marble floor.
Upon returning to the hall, the pair realizes that apparently, they were gone long enough that they missed the remainder of the meal and the crew is now sitting quietly as the tables are being cleared. They re-take their places at the table, everyone sending them odd looks minus Scotty, who is still ogling at Uhura. They all sit in silence for several moments before hearing the host talk once again.
"I hope you all enjoyed your meal," Thomas says in a fake-caring voice that Anne recognizes as the one that girls always used around her when they were trying to get on her good side for one reason or another. "Now, it is time to look to your bright futures on Earth."
There was indistinct murmuring as everyone looked at one another, confused as to what Wilkes means.
"Unfortunately, only one of you will be returning to the stars due to new Starfleet protocol, which clearly states that at age eighteen, you will be paired by the Leader with someone of the opposite sex to procreate with and spend the rest of your life with, married. After the age of twenty-four, there will be no space travel for the paired in order to insure their safety for a healthy family lifestyle," he explains. "Now, on to the pairing!" He adds cheerfully. Anne couldn't help but notice that he said "the Leader" without pointing out that he was the leader, which stands out in her mind because Barnett said he was pompous. Speaking of Barnett, I haven't seen him since this afternoon, Anne thinks while her brow burrows in confusion. I thought for sure he'd be here.
"I will call a female's name and she will stand. A picture of her partner will appear on the large screen behind me. Then, said male will stand in order to make his presence known, and they will then sit back down to later leave and return to the male's home, where they are expected to learn more about one another," Thomas instructs.
Everyone sits in their seats, dumbfounded. Spock's face is a mask of emotionlessness while Anne acts surprised, looking around at all of her friends, who are also playing their astonishment, shock and confusion well. Looking around at her crew, Anne notes the nervous muttering that has begun to spread along with the few people who are wringing their hands, something that has always annoyed the young captain.
"Ensign Williams, Yvonne I.," Wilkes begins. A woman who looks to be twenty-four stands awkwardly. She has beautiful blonde hair that she's wearing down past her shoulders. She's dressed in a medium-length light pink dress with short sleeves that complement her thin stature. She looks to the screen nervously, waiting to find out who her partner will be and she smiles when Chekov's face comes up on the screen. Anne glances at her young friend who appears to be happy with who he has been paired with.
The next few hours pass similarly, with Wilkes calling people out and assigning them to their partners. Anne is glad to see that the woman Bones is paired with looks nice, unlike the woman Sulu got stuck with. The captain nearly jumps for joy when Uhura and Scotty are paired to one another. They deserve each other. There are a few people remaining to be called when Wilkes gets a mischievous smirk on his face.
"Nurse Chapel, Christine C.," the host calls from the front. Nurse Chapel stands, and Anne can't help but to feel sick at the sight of her head nurse. She's always had a huge crush on Spock, which Anne didn't take to very well due to her own feelings towards the Vulcan. She has her hair down, pin-straight with an ugly bump in the front above her forehead. Anne wants to vomit as she sees the dress that Chapel's wearing: black, extremely short and tight, and shows way too much cleavage. Ever since that day… Anne ponders what Christine would be like if they hadn't had that huge argument over nothing. The nurse watches the screen with her eyes squinted, as if willing the screen to show Spock. Much to Anne's displeasure, her first officer's face appears on the screen and Chapel smiles smugly, looking right at her captain. If that bitch even thinks about touching him… Anne threatens in her head protectively. She looks to Spock who looks just as displeased as his captain, his usually emotionless face betraying his true thoughts.
Several minutes later, Anne is the only one who remains unpaired and she stands gloomily as she already knows the unfortunate outcome of this.
"Captain Kirk, Julie-Anne T.," Wilkes calls smoothly, looking at her hungrily. He turns back to the screen in order to see his face pop up. Anne silently hopes that there is some malfunction and she won't be paired with this psychopath, but her wishes are violently shot down when Thomas's portrait is shown on the screen. She unhappily plops into her seat as Thomas begins speaking again.
"That's all for tonight's banquet. Thank you all for coming, and don't forget that you will be going home with your partners tonight," he announces, dismissing the group. Everyone stands up, with the exception of Anne and Spock, and finds their way to their partners before leaving. Anne sees Chapel approaching and fights the urge to punch the nurse's face in as she obviously mentally undresses Spock. "Good evening, Captain," Christine acknowledges before turning to Spock. "Ready to ditch this place?" She asks him seductively and he nods, not noting her tone. He turns to his captain quickly and leans down.
"Good luck," he wishes as he presses two fingers into her palm, kissing her the Vulcan way. Anne is stunned silent as she feels a black hole grow in her stomach in realization. Does he like me back? Debating the idea in her mind, Anne is excited at the prospect of Spock possibly feeling the same way that she does, but also feels despair in not knowing for sure. Knowing that her first officer wouldn't do anything without meaning, Anne wonders why he kissed her to begin with. As part of the plan? She questions. But that was never part of the plan. She argues. Why me? She sits in silence, utterly confused at her own behavior as well as Spock's. As she sees Thomas making his way over to her, changed out of that horrid suit and now in a black t-shirt and jeans, she forgets the previous conversation she went over in her head and reveled in the fact that the Vulcan had shown her affection.
He just kissed me. Anne states disbelievingly in her mind. He kissed me.