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NOTES: Trigger warning for non-con [past]; I make no profit from this work; Star Trek belongs to CBS not me; so far as I know this idea/headcanon is mine alone and published earlier by me on ao3; there is some specific sexual content in chapter 4 you may find objectionable, but it's "vanilla." Please leave comments (they help me know what readers like and don't like in my stories so I can adjust accordingly); direct any constructive critcism to me via PM, thanks!
Chapter 2
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They're sipping coffee on the balcony outside their room. Kat takes a deep breath and says, "I'm surprised at myself for coming up here alone with you."
He frowns, then raises his eyebrows in a "why?" gesture.
"But for some reason, I trust you. I don't trust men, as a rule." A sustaining, long sip of coffee, and she continues. "I don't think I'm ready for any …."
He puts up a hand and shakes his head. "I didn't intend to seduce you this weekend." Smiling gently. "Though I'd like to, but only if you lead. I'm not a psychiatrist, but I read human body language pretty well, even at my tender age."
"Thanks," she says. "I want to be with you, but just platonically for now." Finally meeting his eyes. "I am really attracted to you. But, fair warning, I need time. Maybe a lot of time. I don't know right now."
"Okay," he says, and reaches out to take her hand as they finish their coffee.
Later, sitting on the couch in front of the fireplace, watching the flames, Kat says, "I love this." They've been sitting close to each other but Gabriel lifts his arm, an invitation. She pulls his arm around her, snuggling into his side, her head on his shoulder. They're a perfect fit.
The weekend passes too quickly. They have reading to do for the CTC, but find time to hike the hills above the ocean, walk the tops of the cliffs, and go to visit the redwoods.
The mist is heavy there. Gabriel shakes his head, looking at the size of the trees. "And I thought we had big oaks in the South."
"This one is so big you could almost live in it."
They walk around it, arm in arm, and continue exploring the path through the tall trees. He leans back against one, gently pulling Kat toward him. As gracefully as she can, she extricates herself and looks over her shoulder, as if she might be flirting, but there's something odd about it that makes him stop and watch her carefully. She resumes walking, quickly, her face away from him. He catches up to her, but doesn't want to crowd her.
After hiking, they are ravenous, and they stop at an Italian place where the ravioli are so big there are only six per plate. The food is satisfying, and pretty decent. Not San Francisco dining, but good home cooking. Kat pours two glasses of table wine from a carafe. She lifts a glass. "Here's to hiking all day then eating well."
I love your smile, Gabe is thinking, and he nearly misses clinking glasses with her.
.
Monday the weather is blustery out, so they stay inside, with the fireplace. Kat lights a fire as expertly as Gabriel does. The warm gold light plays over the room as they sit comfortably together on the couch, reading the last of their assignments for tomorrow. They discuss the reading, and when they get to one point, Gabriel says impatiently, "That's bullshit."
"What about first contact protocols is bullshit?"
Gabriel springs up off the couch, facing her, enthusiasm for debate in his eyes. "That's not for the CO to do. It's what communications officers are for. They're experts, they're not just there to be a CO-comms interface. Forfucksake, Starfleet Command really needs to change that." He paces, gesticulating. "Our communications officer on the Liu Yang has twelve languages, eight of them alien, and great facility with a Universal Translator. You still have to interpret some of the translations, with an understanding of what words mean in the particular culture, as modeled on similar cultures encountered previously. At least you have a running start that way. To put a CO whose specialty is Operations on a planet with just a UT is utter bullshit."
"But xenoanthropoligists study cultures, not communications majors."
He whirls toward her, enthusiasm for debate all afire. "Want to bet?Comms majors headed for interstellar missions study cultural-linguistic commonalities. So Comms officers should be members of any first contact mission."
"You have a point," she says, and he raises his arms in a "victory!" gesture. "So introduce it, through your CO, to Starfleet Command."
He makes a face and flops onto the couch. "Oh. I did that months and months ago."
"Fresh out of the Academy? No CO likes a smartass." She leans over to give him a kiss. "So I hear. Personally, I like your smart ass."
"I like yours too." He leans in, as if to kiss her, and she turns her face a little so it lands on her temple. Pretending he doesn't notice, he inhales deeply and says, "Your hair smells great."
Her arms slip around him. "You smell pretty nice yourself."
"It's my soap." He kisses the top of her head. "No, actually, it's all me. All the cadets say so. They follow in my wake, worshipfully sniffing the air."
She pulls away from him. "I guarantee you will become a starship captain."
His brows go up in that way she loves. "Oh? Because of my sterling leadership skills?"
"No. Your ego."
"Ah, yes. It is the best, the finest ego in all the land."
She kisses his cheek. "I don't know about that, your ego's pretty far up there, but I think it's your ass that is the finest in all the land."
"But asses don't make good ship captains."
"They don't?"
"No. Have you ever met Captain Terral?"
.
The weekend passes too quickly.
They get back to the Academy just in time on Tuesday. Gabriel says, "I don't generally like rules and I hate arbitrary deadlines, but I've learned to get along with them in Starfleet." He looks at her and she meets his eyes. "All this by way of saying, I'd sure like to have had more time with you."
"Always thought you were the rebellious type. I wanted more time too." She takes his hand and holds it tight between both of hers. "But I'm glad we had the time we did."
After checking to see no one is watching, he raises her hand to his mouth and kisses it, and she bounces up to give him a brief, soft kiss, and they go to their respective rooms to change into uniform.
.
Next weekend is all simulations, designed to test the class members' tolerance of stress, thus requiring the sacrifice of Saturday and Sunday off, because most of the students are disgruntled to start with (except the three Vulcans). The Andorians and Tellarites, from less temperate races, are visibly ticked off.
During one simulation they each have to lead a brief conference in an urgent situation; a problem is presented, a team does quick research and proposes a solution. A Vulcan ensign presenting a solution begins explaining minutiae and everyone else exchanges subtle glances. One Tellarite, Gaveen, growls a little. Lorca, leading this conference, raises a hand in a casual wave and says, "Mister Solin, might I ask you to get to the point? If we want more details, we'll ask for them."
Solin says stiffly, "You may, Lieutenant Lorca. In answer to your pertinent question … the ship will explode in 8.75 minutes if we do not repair the warp drive control relays at Juncture 110, section A2."
"Thank you. Let's get to work, people!"
.
Sunday they are still working at midnight. Lorca bends to speak into Cornwell's ear. "Would you like to take a break next weekend in Fiji or Hawaii?"
"Um." Again he's caught her by surprise. "I'll get back to you, Gabriel. This is taking every bit of concentration."
He nods at the chart she's working on and whispers so no one else can hear. "You're absolutely right until you get to grid mark Zulu 4-5."
"Oh, shit." She looks up into his mischievous eyes. "You aren't messing with me, are you?"
He whispers again. "No … but I am kinda breakin' the rules."
.
"Hawaii," she says on Monday.
"Good choice. Volcanoes, waterfalls and rainbows in the mist. Not to mention the surfing."
"And sailing, I hope."
He sketches a salute. "O Captain, my Captain. At your service, sir."