AN: This is just a little moment between Beverly and Laris as a couple. It can be read alone, but it's better with the others that I've already written.
I own nothing from Star Trek.
I hope you enjoy! If you do, please let me know!
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Beverly wrapped her arms around Laris from behind, and she hugged her body against hers. She was taller than Laris, and so resting her head with her chin in the crook of Laris's neck took a little bending and strategic placement of her body, but it wasn't anything that wasn't absolutely worth it.
Beverly inhaled the scent of the woman, placed a kiss against her neck, and returned her chin to its original position, closing her eyes as though she might nap there—and truly thinking she could, if it wouldn't be uncomfortable for Laris.
There was a low laugh in Laris's throat.
"He hated me," she said.
"He absolutely did not hate you," Beverly said, pulling away from Laris, somewhat reluctantly, to stand near her while she finished up the dishes she was washing. "I'll dry," Beverly offered.
Although a recycler could have made this process far quicker, Jean-Luc had always insisted on a certain amount of "tradition" in the Château, even though he had given up and at least allowed the installation of some creature comforts, such as replicators, recyclers, and a personal transporter pad. He'd kept real dishes around—probably antiques passed down through his family—and he'd insisted on washing them by hand. Or, rather, he'd insisted that Laris wash them by hand—after preparing and serving his meal, of course.
Beverly was still working to break some of Laris's learned habits from her time at the Château, but old habits truly died hard, and it took time to unlearn and relearn behaviors.
Laris wasn't going to allow Beverly to wash the dishes—not even in exchange for the fact that Laris had prepared most of the meal on her own, and so Beverly would argue it was her job to clean up afterward—but she would at least allow her to help dry and put the clean dishes away. Beverly fell into step doing that.
"He does hate me," Laris said. "You heard him…question number one…is she a Vulcan?"
Laris smirked and raised an eyebrow in Beverly's direction. She wasn't offended. Beverly could tell that much. She was far more amused than actually hurt, and Beverly was at least thankful for that.
"It's not an entirely unexpected question," Beverly said. "There's virtually no apparent difference between a Vulcan and a Southern Romulan."
"He didn't even speak directly to me. He would have preferred if I were a Vulcan," Laris said. "You heard how he said 'Romulan,' when you told him."
Beverly sighed.
"I'll admit…Jack sometimes lacks…tact."
"And Romulans are still very much disapproved of," Laris said. "Especially when they're living with your mother…"
"He's adjusting," Beverly said. "This…all of this…has been…"
"So much," Laris said.
Beverly sighed.
"Yes. It really has been so much…"
Laris took the towel from Beverly's hands as Beverly finished the last of the dishes that Laris offered her. She dried her hands and tossed the towel at the counter behind Beverly, where she'd collect it later for recycling. Laris pressed into Beverly, pressing her back against the counter.
Beverly welcomed the closeness of Laris's body. She wrapped her arms around her, silently asking her not to move away.
There was something comforting about Laris's proximity. There was something about the woman that made Beverly simply feel safe.
"You make me feel so…good…so safe," Beverly breathed out.
Laris hummed in a satisfied way as she hugged Beverly and rested her head against her shoulder. Beverly ran her hands over Laris's back. Laris laughed quietly.
"Ticklish?" Beverly asked. She smiled. Sometimes, she did find ticklish spots when she was exploring Laris's body. It amused her when she found them—a Romulan who, in her past life, as they jokingly called it, was no stranger to doling out torture or to receiving it, from what Beverly could tell from the few confessions she had gotten from her partner, was sometimes ticklish.
Beverly savored those little pieces of knowledge she gathered about Laris. She savored, too, the little bits of her that made her so endearing to Beverly.
"No," Laris said, not bothering to lift her head. "He asked…if you're sleeping OK."
"He worries," Beverly said.
"What he worries about is his mother sharing a Romulan's bed," Laris said.
"I'm sorry," Beverly said, squeezing Laris gently. "I am. He doesn't mean it…not really…he's just…"
"He's a boy," Laris said. She pulled away from Beverly, and Beverly let her go. She didn't sense any tension, so she didn't feel the need to hold onto her when she was ready to move away. "He's just a boy, trying to learn to be a man…and he's only just met his father to lose him again. It's only natural that he would worry about you, and…well…I'm not sure that I would respect him, if he didn't."
Laris gathered up the dirty dish towel. She gathered a few things besides that. She retrieved the laundry basket, and Beverly followed her as she wandered through the house adding items to the basket. This was part of her nightly routine, and she often fought Beverly when it came to this chore, the same as the others.
"You're allowed to be hurt," Beverly said.
"I'm not," Laris said.
"You're allowed to be…angry," Beverly offered.
"I'm not," Laris said. She laughed. "And I'm not suppressing my emotions, Beverly—I'm not a Vulcan!"
Beverly laughed in response. She followed Laris into their bedroom where Laris was piling the dirty items that she'd gathered on her journey around the house into the recycler. She had, at least, finally eschewed Jean-Luc's need to have things washed. Clothing and other such items were just as easy to replicate and recycle as they were to wash and re-wear, and the toll on the environment was much less. The only things that they washed and reused were those things that, for whatever reason, ended up holding sentimental value.
Beverly sat on the edge of the bed.
"I just don't want you to be hurt," Beverly said. "I don't. I don't want Jack to hurt you. Laris—I don't want anyone to hurt you. Not ever again. And—that's the absolute truth."
Laris smiled.
She had told Beverly about the importance of absolute truth in a Romulan relationship. If they were going to bond with each other—which was important for Laris, as a Romulan—then they were going to have to agree to absolute truth. Beyond that, Romulan trust bonds usually required three partners to start, but Beverly was requesting that they not look for a third partner. The third partner was, traditionally, to ensure honesty.
Beverly had promised Laris that if she would bond with her—just the two of them, with no need for a third partner—she would promise her absolute honesty, no matter how hard she had to work to make it happen, especially given the fact that she'd learned to keep pieces of herself hidden for her own safety and that of her children.
"I believe you," Laris said. "Truly…I do."
"Believe this, too," Beverly said. "I love you. More than I would have ever thought possible. And I sleep…Laris…I sleep better with you than I can recall sleeping in…I don't even know how long. I sleep like the dead…only better, because I'm fully alive, and I'm not afraid of anything."
She saw Laris blush green, though she tried her best to keep her face somewhat hidden from Beverly as she drew out her work for as long as possible.
"I'm not afraid of anything, here and now, except that…I'll wake up one day, and you'll be gone."
"I'm not the one of us that's given to disappearing acts," Laris challenged.
She finally seemed to feel confident enough in her ability to control her expression that she looked at Beverly. She had also finished recycling everything she could reach, practically, so it was time to stop pretending busyness. She turned to face Beverly.
"I'm not going anywhere," Beverly said. "Ever. I don't belong to the stars, Laris. I don't have to. I'm happy with a home and a family. I have my work with Starfleet. I can have a full life that way. I can have a full life here, with you. Just—tell me that he didn't offend you enough that I'm going to wake up tomorrow and find you gone?"
Beverly saw Laris soften. She walked toward her. Beverly spread her legs, making room so that Laris could walk between them. She rested her head against Laris's chest. She heard the racing of her heart—the sound of a strong, healthy Romulan heartbeat. Beverly's whole body responded to the sound of it.
"You have my word," Laris said. "I'm not going anywhere that I don't take you…or, at least, tell you where I'm going. Jack was just being Jack. Your son. Looking out for his mother, and I respect him for that. He will trust me…in time."
Beverly hugged Laris. She closed her eyes. She squeezed the woman gently. She felt Laris's fingers—she had very strong hands—as they massaged her back.
"Jack will love you," Beverly said. "It's impossible not to. You would be a wonderful mother."
Laris laughed quietly.
"Well—we won't know about that now, will we? Jack is hardly a child, Beverly. And he doesn't need another mother. He's practically grown enough to say that he doesn't need the one he has."
Beverly lifted her face to look at Laris.
Laris's eyes were soft, and her smile was, too. She affectionately stroked Beverly's face, only really ever able to stand over her in this position. Beverly reached a hand up and affectionately rubbed Laris's ear. Laris shivered in response, as she always did, and smiled at Beverly.
"What about—a baby?" Beverly asked.
"A baby?" Laris echoed.
Mmmhmmm…" Beverly hummed. "You're only a little over sixty. You've got a hundred good childbearing years ahead of you…if you want them. That's—that's at least fourteen cycles of guaranteed conception, if you choose to use them, and that's not even counting all the other times that you're just as fertile as any other female."
"Except…I'm not," Laris said.
She smiled at Beverly. She clearly tried to make her voice sound happy and upbeat. Beverly heard something, though. She sensed something. It made her chest catch. It made her throat ache.
"What does that mean, Laris? Truth." She added the final command as a reminder that she expected not to be lied to when they'd sworn honesty to each other.
Laris seemed slightly amused, but more than a little melancholy suddenly. She half-shrugged her shoulders.
"I don't use contraception, Beverly. I never have. There was only one baby-to-be before," Laris said. "A long time ago—when I was first fertile, and first married to Zhaban. It was after my first seven-year cycle. I fell pregnant, as was to be expected."
"What happened?" Beverly asked.
"The Tal Shiar happened," Laris said. "Something—I didn't do as I should have. I paid for it…"
"With your baby?" Beverly asked.
Laris frowned at her.
"With all of them, I suppose," she said. "There was never another."
"Laris…" Beverly said.
"It doesn't matter," Laris said. "It isn't as if that's a part of my life now. Our lives. It isn't as though we have a way…"
"But there is a way," Beverly said. "There's a way. There's a process. You and I could have a baby together."
"Adoption?"
"Yes, of course…but…there's a process where we would use my DNA and an artificial cell for fertilization. We could use my DNA in an artificial cell and your egg…or the other way around, however it would work best. Once the fertilization took place, we'd transfer the stable embryo to your womb, where it would attach and grow."
Beverly felt a swell of excitement within her. She felt a sensation of hope and anticipation.
"Laris, I could help you! I could…help you every step of the way! We could do this, together!"
"You've done this before?" Laris asked.
"Not personally," Beverly said. "But—I would love the chance. And with our baby? Laris…tell me the truth…is this something you want?"
She felt Laris tense. She didn't know if it was from excitement, or fear, or both.
"I know Romulans are secretive," Beverly said. "I could handle most of your care myself. I could make sure that Starfleet knew that."
"What if it doesn't work?" Laris asked.
Beverly smiled at her reassuringly. She got to her feet, gently pushing Laris back enough to allow her to do so. Standing, she felt like she could hug her more completely. She felt, even though there was no threat, that she could somehow protect her better in this position.
"Then we're no worse off than we are," Beverly said. "And if you still want a child, we'll talk about other options."
"You could find a partner that would make this possible without question," Laris said. "You could even…"
Beverly stopped her speaking by kissing her. At first, Laris tensed, but then she relaxed into the kiss. Beverly, too, relaxed into it. Soon, it was slow and drawn out, each of them simply enjoying the exchange back and forth—the lazy kissing allowing both of them to breathe and to remain relaxed.
Beverly finished the kiss by purposefully nipping Laris's lip.
"There are no guarantees in life. Not with anyone. And I don't want to do this with anyone else," Beverly said. "I won't ask you to do this if you don't want to do it. If you say no, we'll never speak of it again. But—if you want? I would love to help you, Laris. I would love to help us."
For a moment, silence fell between them. Beverly could tell that Laris was thinking, and she let her think. There was no rush. No matter what Laris said, this was where Beverly hoped to spend the rest of her life—here, in the Château, in Laris's arms.
Finally, Laris smiled and wrapped her arms around Beverly.
"Is tomorrow too early to start?" Laris asked.
Beverly smiled back at her. She captured her lips, once more, in a soft kiss.
"I'll call Starfleet Medical first thing in the morning," Beverly said. "And tell them—I have a very important, personal project that I'd like to do."
"Do you think they'll allow that?" Laris asked.
"I'm an admiral," Beverly teased. "I tend to get my way."
