Here we are, another piece!
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111
"What is that?" Jean-Luc asked as soon as Beverly slipped into library where he was reading in one of the comfortable chairs.
"Laris made it for me," she said.
"That hardly answers the question of what it is," Jean-Luc said. "That smells wonderful."
"She's practicing cooking," Beverly said, sitting at the writing desk with her plate. "She wants to impress Will and Deanna with something homemade."
"If it smells like that, it's bound to impress anyone," Jean-Luc said.
Beverly hummed her satisfaction as she bit into the food and chewed.
"It's like pizza," she said. "But—baguette, and tomatoes, and mozzarella, and…I don't even know what spices. It's perfectly toasted."
Jean-Luc laughed and got up from his chair. The book he'd been reading moved to the arm of the chair, where it would wait for the next time that he was alone with quiet time to kill. He smiled at Beverly, as he moved toward her, and she found herself laughing at his expression and the innate knowledge of what was coming.
"No, Jean-Luc," she warned. "This is…this is not for you."
"Certainly, you can share," Jean-Luc said.
"I'm already sharing!" Beverly said, laughing without being able to stop herself. "I'm sharing with Jack. Really—he's sharing with me. This is Jack's. Laris made this for Jack, because he wanted it."
"Oh, I see," Jean-Luc said, with a great deal of amusement. He sank into the chair nearest Beverly—a chair that was far less plush than the one he'd left. "I feel I'm going to lose any argument I may enter into for some time. Our sweet baby girl has her demands, and now Jack has his."
"Smart man," Beverly teased. "Here." She offered him the food and he shook his head.
'I don't actually want it," he said. "I was only teasing."
"I'm sure Laris would make you some, if you did want it," Beverly said. "She said she hasn't been in a kitchen in a while, and she wants to make sure she's not rusty when she's cooking for Will and Deanna. If you ask her for something, I'm sure she'll happily make it."
"Did you remind her that she needn't impress anyone?" Jean-Luc asked.
"I did," Beverly said. "Actually, Jean-Luc, there's something I wanted to talk to you about. Well—several somethings…"
"In relation to the announcements?" Jean-Luc asked.
"Yes, but really no," Beverly said. Jean-Luc waited patiently as she worked her way through bites of her food while she spoke. "Laris had no prenatal care prior to this."
"I am aware," Jean-Luc said. "I become acutely aware of more horrors each day, it seems. Are you about to introduce me to more?"
"Not exactly," Beverly said. "The baby girl is not measuring at all where she ought to be, Jean-Luc. Not for human standards, even, and certainly not for Vulcan standards, which is really all that I have to go on for Romulan prenatal care."
Jean-Luc flinched slightly.
"I see," he said.
"But—I don't think that it means what we would naturally think it means," Beverly said. "I think that Laris tried to guess how far along she was in her own pregnancy, as soon as she became aware of it, and I think she grossly misestimated how far along she actually is."
"Which means what, Beverly?" Jean-Luc asked.
"I originally thought that Jack would arrive when our baby girl was about a month old," Beverly said. "Now, I'm beginning to think that Jack might arrive at approximately the same time as our daughter—or even before."
"Which is problematic," Jean-Luc said, understanding her, "only if it interferes with your ability to deliver the baby girl. But—I do have enough emergency Starfleet training to deliver the baby, if necessary."
"You do," Beverly said. "You have more than enough. With the complicated nature of things, though, I think it would be much better if we were both involved. Also, I think that a lot of how well things go is going to depend on Laris's emotional state during labor and delivery, and I think that she's going to be calmer if she knows that I'm there and helping to make sure that things go as well as possible."
"What do you propose?" Jean-Luc asked.
"I am in the best health of my life," Beverly said. "Jack is thriving. He is perfect."
"All things that make me very happy," Jean-Luc said. "However, this whole conversation is beginning to make me quite nervous. So, perhaps you should go ahead and tell me what it is that you need for us to discuss, so that we can simply handle it."
Beverly smiled at him, reassuringly.
"I want to play things by ear," Beverly said. "I want to watch things, but I want us both to talk to Laris. She needs to understand that baby girl might need a great deal more time than we originally thought to finish baking…so to speak."
"And?" Jean-Luc pressed.
"And, as we get closer, I'd like to have the support of both of you in deciding if I should induce labor a little early with Jack, just to be sure that he's here before she arrives," Beverly said. "A week or two before her arrival should make it more than feasible for him to spend a night or so with Will and Deanna, while we focus on bringing our daughter safely into the world."
"And what about Jack?" Jean-Luc asked. "Will he be safe, if you induce? Why not simply induce Laris?"
Beverly sensed the tension in the air. She got up from her seat and came over to the chair that Jean-Luc had taken to move closer to her. She barely had to gesture for him to change his position slightly, so that she could settle on his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck.
"I will not put Jack at risk," Beverly said. "Nor will I put our daughter at risk. I will begin monitoring our supplements, and I'll administer what we both need to make sure that the babies develop as fully as they possibly can. I will monitor the situation and, as the time draws closer for each of us to deliver, I will make the best decision that will allow us to put at least a week between the births."
Jean-Luc frowned at her. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly.
"You must understand that this is all very new to me, and very overwhelming," Jean-Luc said. "First—you were simply gone. Now, I am engaged—happily, but newly—to be married into a three-person union. I am expecting a daughter, and a son, and I am told that there is a risk for one to be injured, if not lost outright. I thought that we would have a month to settle into parenting one of those, and now I learn that we are likely looking at a week. And—I discover that my son may be prematurely delivered into the world."
"By very little, if at all," Beverly assured him. "Two weeks at most, Jean-Luc. Babies are born at thirty-eight weeks all the time without incident. If it makes you uncomfortable, though, then…I won't do it."
"And what will happen, then?" Jean-Luc asked.
Beverly shrugged her shoulders.
"I guess we'll play it by ear," she said. "We'll…see what happens. I can make plans, Jean-Luc, and I can do my best to follow through with those plans based on the data that I gather as both of our pregnancies advance, or I can say that we won't intervene, either way, and leave things to chance. I can't really do both. Whatever I do, though, I want to do with the support of my partners—both of them. So, if you say that this is not what you want, then…we will figure it out as we come to it."
Jean-Luc clearly considered it. He frowned at her.
"And then…our daughter is lost," Jean-Luc said. "And I find it impossible to live with myself."
Beverly laughed nervously. She caught his face in her hand. She kissed him and held his eyes. She shook her head.
"No matter what happens, it isn't your fault. None of this is anyone's fault. We'll do the best we can, and that's what we have."
"I would not want him put at any unnecessary risk," Jean-Luc said, resting his hand on Beverly's belly.
"If I'm not confident," Beverly said, "then, I won't do it. I will continue to monitor both of us—all four of us. I'll use all that information to make my decision as to how to proceed. But, I would never put Jack at risk. I won't do anything that I'm not confident will be fine…but if something happens, Jean-Luc, I do need you to remember that things are always a little out of our control, even with the best of intentions and the most careful preparation."
Jean-Luc pulled her against him and hugged her.
"You are no more to blame for accidents than anyone," Jean-Luc said. "But—I trust you more than anyone, Beverly. I trust you to make the best decisions for our family—all of it."
"And you support me?" Beverly asked.
Jean-Luc laughed quietly. He kissed her and squeezed her again.
"I have always supported you," he said. "And I always will."
"We need to talk to Laris," Beverly said. "Just so she's aware of everything I've told you. I wanted to talk to you, first."
"Come along, then," Jean-Luc said. "There's no time like the present. Besides—Jack could probably do with another snack, and his Papa might like to try some of the things he concocts with his mama's assistance."
111
"What is this?" Beverly asked.
Laris offered her the spoon, her hand cupped under it to stop it from spilling on the floor.
"It's a Berovian dish," Laris said. "A spiced rice dish. Taste it."
"It smells good," Beverly said, still eyeing the dish.
"Taste it," Laris said with a laugh. "Unless you don't trust me not to poison you, in which case we need to rethink this entire marriage before your friends come for an announcement."
Beverly opened her mouth and accepted the bite of food. It was warm, and spicy, and sweet, but also savory. It was, at once, everything she didn't even know she'd be craving. She moaned out her satisfaction of it, and Laris beamed.
"Are you being sincere?" She asked.
"This is the best thing that I've ever tasted," Beverly said around the bite that she was still chewing. She swallowed. "Jean-Luc—you have to try this."
"I'm really quite comfortable where I am," he offered. He sat nearby, watching them as he drank his wine.
Laris took his words as an invitation to bring a sample to him, and she loaded a bite onto the spoon before carrying it over to him in much the same manner that she'd offered the bite to Beverly. He didn't hesitate, trusting Beverly's critique of Laris's cooking, and he accepted the bite without any prompting. Beverly, for her part, took another spoon and helped herself to what was in the pot.
"This is truly wonderful," Jean-Luc said. "Where did you learn to cook this? All of this, really—it's all been wonderful. And with so much variety…"
"Here and there," Laris said. She came back to where Beverly was, and Beverly felt her hand on her back. She smiled at her, and puckered her lips at Laris to ask for a kiss. She was indulged, as she'd expected to be, and Laris nipped her lip playfully. "It doesn't taste bad, does it?" She teased, when the kiss broke. Beverly laughed and helped herself to another bite from the pot. "Should I serve dinner, or do you just intend to eat it directly from the pot?"
"There are a number of delicious dishes here," Jean-Luc said. "I'm satisfied grazing, unless you'd both appreciate a more formal meal."
Laris answered that by helping herself to a sample from one of the other plates and leaning against the counter to enjoy it.
"Really, where did you learn to cook?" Jean-Luc asked.
"My kitchen, mostly," Laris said. "I've always enjoyed cooking. I've enjoyed trying new recipes from different cultures and backgrounds. I love new foods."
"I don't suppose we ever get the image of a Romulan being a chef and a homemaker," Jean-Luc teased.
"And Tal Shiar," Beverly offered.
"Nor do you likely realize that we have kitchens and homes," Laris said with a laugh. "It's not the image that is often portrayed when those who are doing the portraying only want to be seen as a race of warriors and nothing more. Still, it's a stereotype, like all of them."
"Well—I'm glad we have the chance to forget stereotypes," Beverly said, coming over and leaning over Laris, helping herself to the finger food from the plate that Laris had chosen to eat from for a moment. She kissed Laris's cheek while she was there, and nuzzled her ear before bringing her fingers up and rubbing it in a way that she knew was entirely suggestive.
Laris shivered and looked at her with eyes that immediately showed her interest. Beverly smiled and winked at her. Laris offered her one of the pieces of finger food, and Beverly accepted it from her fingers.
And, then, she winked at Jean-Luc who was unapologetically watching them—as he should, Beverly thought.
Jean-Luc got up and, within a matter of minutes, he'd selected some music for all of them. His wine glass, which he carried as he moved around, was rested on the counter when he walked around to where Beverly and Laris were still slightly huddled together, both enjoying food from the same plate.
He offered a hand out to Beverly.
"Could I have a dance with you?" Jean-Luc asked.
"In the kitchen?" Beverly asked.
"I can't think of a better place, at the moment," Jean-Luc said.
Beverly offered her hand to him and he pulled her quickly toward him. She leaned against him and appreciated the way that he held her. She inhaled the scent of him, and she relaxed in his arms. She closed her eyes and, for a half a moment, she thought of stepping onto his feet to allow him to move them more completely across the tight little space.
Still, for a moment the kitchen was everything it needed it to be. There had never been a ballroom that was more inviting than that little space—their home.
They had already told Laris everything. They told her Beverly's concerns about the baby girl—and her belief that she was, instead of being terribly underdeveloped for age, simply not the age they had once thought she was. They told her about Beverly's plans to carefully monitor both pregnancies, and to make a decision, as she thought their times to deliver were drawing closer, about how to handle things.
They told her that, no matter what happened, they would handle this all together. They would support each other every step of the way. And that support and love would only continue to grow after they saw both of their babies come into the world.
And, now, Beverly was almost feeling like she might sleep as Jean-Luc rocked her and swayed her in a tight but relaxed formation around the space provided for them. As the song faded, Beverly looked at him and smiled. He knew what she wanted. He wanted it, too. He could see it in her eyes. The kiss took her breath away, and she lingered there until he broke it.
The music started up again—another song of an almost equally soft sound—and he raised his eyebrows at her.
"Another?" He asked softly.
She flicked her eyes in Laris's direction, directing him with a look.
"I think…I might sit this one out," she said.
"Of course," Jean-Luc said with a smile. He kissed her once more before releasing her. He centered himself in front of Laris. "May I ask for the first dance with my future wife?"
Laris smiled at him.
"You looked like you were doing fine," she said.
"Make no mistake," Jean-Luc said. "I could dance with Beverly all night. But—I have a few openings on my dance card, as well…and I would treasure the opportunity to dance with you."
"I don't dance," she said.
"Clearly, that's simply another Romulan stereotype," Jean-Luc said. "One that—I will help you to overcome. You see, it's simply a Château rule. A requirement, really. You must dance in the kitchen."
Laris smiled, and Beverly saw her cheeks darken across the distance.
She accepted, though, and let Jean-Luc pull her against him.
"I don't know how to dance," she said. "I wasn't joking."
"Just relax," Jean-Luc said. "I'll guide you. All you have to do is relax and move with me. Baby girl loves movement—she's going to adore this. Just breathe and relax. I've got you."
Laris laughed and leaned into Jean-Luc. The way he was holding her looked a little more relaxed and natural than it had a moment before. He took his hand from her back only long enough to invite her to rest her head against him, and she decided to do as he requested.
"You're in good hands," Beverly offered, her mouth half-full of the rice dish she'd returned to in the meantime.
Laris laughed quietly. The laughter sounded much more easy than it had before.
"I never doubted that for a moment."