AN: I was having a hard time getting going on writing anything, so I decided to write this entirely ridiculous (fluffy and purposeless) story to try to get the gears going again. There is nothing profound here. I'm sorry. LOL
I own nothing from Star Trek.
If you read, I hope you enjoy! If you do enjoy, please do let me know.
111
Jean-Luc was so happy to be home.
Happy to be home was a sentiment that he had never really imagined might apply to him. Normally, as an assignment drew to a close, or he found himself facing something like required R and R, Jean-Luc began to feel anxious and, if he were being honest, even a little miserable at the thought. Ther was never anywhere that he wanted to be more than aboard a starship with a duty and a purpose driving him.
Until now, that was.
He was truly happy to be home, now, because for the first time in his life, Jean-Luc had a home. He had what other people had talked about, and something he'd always felt had never really belonged to him—something that never would. He had a home that was full of everything—every emotion, every experience, every essence—that he'd always been told home was supposed to provide.
Of course, Jean-Luc Picard was, at times, a fool, but he wasn't foolish enough to be entirely oblivious to the fact that he owed all of that to Beverly.
Beverly had been called to Starfleet Medical for an important mission of her own. She'd gone, just as Jean-Luc imagined she would, and Jean-Luc had supported her decision. She was, after all, as driven by duty and purpose as he was, she simply hadn't believed that it needed to be at the cost of everything else in her life. She had, after all, been married before, was open to love, and had a son who was already serving in Starfleet as an ensign.
She had finally convinced Jean-Luc that he could have more than he imagined. Of course, that had taken very little convincing, once she'd realized that she was the greatest of his daydreams.
With Beverly at Starfleet Medical, and Jean-Luc aboard the Enterprise, they hadn't seen each other, now, for nearly four months. When possible, Jean-Luc called Beverly every night, and he at least had the opportunity to delight in her voice and a glimpse of her face before he slept. Tonight, though, Jean-Luc would see and hear as much of her as he liked—and he would see, in person, the little Starfleet issued starter house that she was fashioning into a temporary home for them.
Jean-Luc had never seen the little house before, but it didn't matter. Home, after all, wasn't a structure. Home was Beverly Crusher—and wherever she was with him, Jean-Luc knew that he would find all those wonderful things that people had told him home held.
After leaving his transport and choosing to walk the last leg of the journey to the starter house for the fresh air, Jean-Luc finally arrived at the address he'd been given. The little base houses were all the same, like cookie cutter houses, and lined up in the little neighborhoods dedicated to housing those who served in Starfleet. The only things that set one house apart from another were the numbers on the house and mailbox, and whatever little touches those who lived there chose to use for adornment.
The little starter house that waited for Jean-Luc had pumpkins lining the steps, an autumn-themed wreath on the door, and a little sign under the house numbers that was painted with "The Picards" in decorative font.
Jean-Luc's heart went wild in his chest. Something so absolutely simple had no business bringing tears up to prickle his eyes and a lump to tighten his throat—but it did.
He could think of very few things, in the moment, that he had ever appreciated as much as those few precious items that marked this as his home—at least temporarily.
Beverly knew that Jean-Luc was coming. She knew that he had two weeks home with her, and then he would be leaving, again, for some time—they weren't sure exactly how long. She would return to the Enterprise when her work at Starfleet Medical was done, but they had no idea how long that might last, either.
They had to make the best of the two weeks they had, and Jean-Luc was thrilled that he managed to finish his debriefing at headquarters in time to get home approximately two hours early and, hopefully, surprise her.
He hoped, too, that the small present—a box of fine chocolates—and a small bouquet of fresh autumn flowers would be a little something to make his arrival even more special to Beverly. They were truly subpar gifts in comparison to all that she gave him, but Jean-Luc hoped they would at least bring a smile to her face.
He laughed to himself as he made his way up the walk. His knees felt oddly foreign and a bit like jelly. He could face threats that most people would find terrifying, but the thought of a reunion with his beloved—and fairly new—wife was enough to unnerve him entirely. Still, this was the best kind of nervousness, so he relished it.
It felt odd to think of knocking at his own door or ringing the bell. Beverly had left a package for him at headquarters, and it had simply contained the key and a letter reminding him that she loved him and looked forward to seeing him. It was meant, he knew, to make him feel even more at home. He was no stranger here—he held the key to his home, the same as any man would.
Still, he lingered a moment and considered whether or not he ought to let himself inside without first indicating, in some way, that he'd arrived.
Finally, he decided to unlock the door.
Immediately, Jean-Luc's senses were stimulated. He smelled a wonderful scent—warm, and spicy, and welcoming. He heard the sounds of music playing, and the sounds of Beverly singing—just enough off-key to let him know that she was simply enjoying herself and not expecting to be giving any sort of performance.
His heart felt like it swelled in his chest, and he carefully closed the door behind him and practically tiptoed into the house, hoping to get one precious moment of observing her, as happy as she must be right now to sing as she was, before she knew he was there.
He wanted to see, for one moment, how happy she was knowing that he'd be home—especially since he knew, already, how incredibly happy the anticipation of seeing her made him.
When he did see her, she had her back to him. She was off duty that day, and she was wearing civilian clothing—comfortable looking pants and a sweater that hung off one shoulder. She had decorated the house with pumpkins, and leaves, and everything else he might have believed only existed in homes on movies. She was dancing, slightly, as she arranged a collection of white fairy lights, like those he usually imagined reserved for Christmas, among the fall foliage—probably fake—that she had used to decorate the mantle.
She arranged little pumpkins on the corner of the mantle, and she stood back to admire her handiwork, unaware that he was there, his careful footfalls covered by the music that played and the sound of her own singing.
Jean-Luc had very carefully put down the flowers and chocolates, and when Beverly backed up to admire her handiwork, he slipped up behind her.
"May I dare to ask a woman as beautiful as you for this dance?" Jean-Luc said softly, leaning toward Beverly and placing his hands gently on her shoulders.
Her initial reaction was far more violent than he might have expected, but he realized that he deserved it when she turned quickly, prepared to defend herself against an intruder. He caught her arms and she quickly calmed and realized who he was.
And, then, her fear gave way to anger. She barked his name out and scolded him for scaring her.
"I'm sorry, my love," he said. "I only wanted to surprise you. And when I saw you…I couldn't help but be swept up in…in all of this. In you. Can you forgive me?"
For one moment, she eyed him, and then she seemed to melt a little with relief. A smile came to her lips and she practically fell into him. He wrapped his arms around her and closed his eyes, savoring the feeling of holding her. He buried his face in the crook of her neck and inhaled her scent along with the warm, spicy smell of the house.
"I missed you," she breathed out. "I love you."
"I love you," Jean-Luc said. "And—I missed you, Beverly. Truly. I would still like that dance, you know…"
She laughed and pulled away just enough to look at him, but also to make it clear that she didn't actually wish to be parted from him.
"This is hardly a song for dancing," she teased.
"Then, we'll make our own music," Jean-Luc offered. "I don't care about the music, Beverly."
Her smile grew.
"Neither do I," she said.
She pulled closer to him, and he held her. He swayed her around the small living room, ignoring any music that their ears could hear, guided only by that which he felt in his heart, and which her heart must have somehow heard. Beverly was a wonderful dancer. She loved it. Jean-Luc, for his part, had never cared for dancing, and he'd told her as much when they'd first started dancing together, but he'd found that he had to amend that statement. Jean-Luc hadn't cared for dancing—but, now, he looked for any excuse to dance with Beverly. He looked for any excuse to simply hold her closely and to rest in her arms.
And she didn't complain about the fact that she sometimes had to lead, that they were almost always out of rhythm, or that her toes were frequently trod upon. She seemed, instead, to simply relish the moments with him as much as he did with her.
"You're home early," Beverly said.
"I wanted to surprise you," Jean-Luc admitted. "When I finished at headquarters, I thought…this is really the only opportunity I have to surprise you."
"Well," she said, pulling away from him, "other than the fact you nearly scared me to death, I love your surprises. But—I'm afraid you…sort of ruined the one I had for you."
Jean-Luc felt a slight sinking feeling in his stomach.
"That was never my intention," he said.
"I know," she said. "But—I wasn't quite done here."
Jean-Luc looked around.
"It looks beautiful to me," he said. "I love it. It's like something out of a fairy tale."
She smiled and blushed slightly at the compliment.
"And it's incomplete," she said.
Jean-Luc held his hand up to her. He moved for the bouquet of flowers and the box of chocolates. He offered both to her. She took both and gave him the pleased sigh and the happy smile that he had dreamed of getting in return for them.
"May I hope that this makes up for my transgression?" He asked.
"Oh—Jean-Luc," she said. "This is so sweet…but…"
"But I have ruined your surprise," Jean-Luc said. "And, for that, I will be eternally sorry. Please, Beverly…tell me how I can repair this, at least a little."
She laughed, and she looked back toward the mantle. Jean-Luc noticed a slightly deeper blush on her cheeks than he might have expected. He thought, too, that he might even see something like the slight glitter in her eyes that came when she was determined not to show emotion that she felt deeply.
He touched her chin and turned her face back toward him, forcing her to face him.
"I really have ruined something, haven't I?" He asked.
"It's silly," Beverly breathed out, shaking her head. "You haven't ruined anything, really. I'm sorry—I'm overreacting. Honestly, Jean-Luc…it's silly, it's just…"
Jean-Luc felt like he understood. He felt a squeezing in his chest. He gave her the most reassuring smile that he could.
"It's just that you were…looking forward to something," he said. "And I didn't ruin that, perhaps, but I did take away that which you anticipated. Some sort of final reveal?"
She half-shrugged and nodded, clearly embarrassed by her own emotional reaction. Oddly enough, the reaction only made Jean-Luc's body feel like it flooded with love even more than it had before. He leaned and kissed her, gently. She accepted the kiss and returned it with a touch more hunger. He indulged her.
"I assume that…our home has a bedroom," Jean-Luc said. "And that there might also be a bathroom here?"
She smiled.
"Of course," she said. "Sonic and traditional shower options."
"I will hardly pass up the option for a leisurely, traditional shower," Jean-Luc said. "That might give you some time, Beverly. I would also like to change into something more comfortable."
"We have replicators," she said. "And there's stew—for dinner."
"I look forward to all of it," Jean-Luc said. "The surprise, especially."
She smiled and kissed him once more.
"I hope it's everything you could possibly want," she said. "That way to the bedroom."
"I'm sure it will be. I'll leave you to your work!"
111
Jean-Luc took his time. He didn't want Beverly to feel rushed in any way.
Whatever she was planning was important—despite her insistence that it was silly or her obvious embarrassment at feeling somewhat emotional over something she deemed not important enough to elicit such emotions. The fact of the matter was that it had elicited emotions and, to Jean-Luc, that made it neither silly nor unimportant.
Even if Beverly only wanted Jean-Luc to see the house arranged "just so," and her anticipation of his reaction and the subsequent disappointment that he might never see it, had caused her upset, he thought it was important and wonderful—because it was just one more example of the fact that she cared for him even half as deeply as he cared for her. After all, he had anticipated her simple reaction over the flowers and chocolates, and he would have felt let down, if she hadn't enjoyed them.
When he was showered, and dressed, and had spent a little time simply taking in the room and thinking about the fact that this was the first place, besides his quarters aboard the Enterprise, where he and Beverly would be "home" together, Jean-Luc emerged from the bedroom. He stuck his head out the door, first, and called out to Beverly.
"Are you ready for me?" He asked. "If you aren't, I can read a chapter or two…"
"Come on, Jean-Luc," Beverly called out. He heard the lightness in her tone—excitement, happiness. He smiled to hear the sound, and returned to the small living room.
Beverly had finished with her decorations in his absence, and she'd cleaned and straightened the room. The flowers he'd brought her were now in a vase and arranged in the middle of the coffee table. Several candles flickered—the probable source of the warm scent that filled the house. The room was peaceful and cozy. There was a blanket, no less autumnal than the rest of the decorations, on the couch where Jean-Luc could imagine curling up with Beverly, later, to enjoy tea and some simple time being close to one another.
"Beverly—it's beautiful," Jean-Luc said, hoping to convey every bit of appreciation that she hoped to feel from him.
She was smiling all the way to her eyes. He noticed the slightest hop on the balls of her feet.
"Do you notice anything in particular, Jean-Luc?" She asked.
He looked around, suddenly feeling nervous. He was observant in many ways, but he always felt destined to fail these sorts of tests.
"Forgive me…what exactly am I noticing in particular? I notice a great deal of things…all of them wonderful…"
Beverly laughed quietly, finding some amusement in the fact that his senses were too overwhelmed to pick out something that, clearly, they were meant to notice above all else.
"Look at the mantle, Jean-Luc," Beverly offered.
Jean-Luc let his eyes dance across the well-decorated mantle. There was the brightly colored foliage placed there for decoration. There was the soft, happy glow of the fairy lights nestled into the leaves. There was a candle that flickered and released its scent into the air. And, at the end of the mantle, there were pumpkins—the ones Beverly had been arranging earlier. As Jean-Luc's eyes settled on them, he truly took them in.
There were three pumpkins, and a small little decorative sign, next to them, that declared the small collection of pumpkins to be "Our Pumpkin Patch." Much like the story of Goldilocks and the three bears, Jean-Luc realized that the little decorative pumpkins were three different sizes. Where they faced Jean-Luc, he could see that they'd had something lettered on them. He stepped forward and read them, his pulse picking up: "Papa," "Mama," "Papa's Little Pumpkin."
"It's terribly cliché," Beverly offered, coming up behind him, not unlike he'd done to her earlier. "But—you did tell me that you're very traditional, and that you always imagined that…if you were to have a family…you would like to experience all the super traditional practices."
Jean-Luc turned and looked at her. She was looking at him eagerly and with anticipation. He still felt shocked, and almost afraid to accept his brain's interpretation of things.
"Traditional practices…" he stammered.
Beverly's smile was soft and reassuring.
"Pregnancy announcements like this are very traditional," Beverly said. "The more ridiculous and cliché, the better…and since we planned to do all the terribly cliché autumn activities while you're home, I thought…"
"Pregnancy announcements," Jean-Luc said, his brain still fearing to accept its interpretation.
"I know we only barely talked about it…" Beverly said. "Are you happy?"
Jean-Luc laughed, then, realization practically flooding his system.
"We only stopped using birth control just before our wedding," Jean-Luc. "You left for Starfleet Medical…Beverly…we've barely even seen each other."
"I guess we're more compatible than we even thought," Beverly said with a laugh. "I wanted to wait to tell you in person, but…I found out not long after I got here."
"A baby," Jean-Luc said.
"A baby," Beverly said, nodding her head.
Jean-Luc laughed. They had discussed this—yes. They had decided they would welcome the chance to be parents, should it arise. They had decided that they would stop taking birth control, in anticipation of their wedding, and they would leave things to chance and fate. If they were meant to have a family, they would.
But Jean-Luc had never truly imagined it would happen so quickly.
"Beverly—I…I'm afraid that…I don't know what to say," Jean-Luc said. "I never imagined…"
"Just tell me if you're happy," Beverly said.
"Happy doesn't even begin to describe it," Jean-Luc said. "Overwhelmed. Elated…and very much in love, Beverly."
"All wonderful things," Beverly said as Jean-Luc embraced her. He held her a moment, his eyes closed, before pulling away to press a kiss to her forehead.
"All the best things," he said. "And I have you to thank for all of it."