"I just– I don't understand," Mariner insisted.

The five of them were sitting around a table in the bar, looking at the glittering ring on Rutherford's left hand and the picture of Tendi swinging him over some sort of threshold. Mariner's fingers were laced into her curly hair, looking torn between having a conniption and proposing a toast. "Yeah, like, how did this even happen," Boimler agreed beside her as T'Lyn took the Padd, studying the picture with intrigue. "You guys weren't even dating!"

"I don't know, man, I guess when you know you just know," Rutherford said with a shrug.

"But how did you know?"

"Hm. Well after the people at the Heart Place pointed it out, it just seemed kind of obvious," Tendi said, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "After all, Rutherford– I mean, Sam–" she giggled before resuming: "–is the nicest, sweetest, most attractive person I know, and we want to be best friends for the rest of our lives! It honestly just made sense." Rutherford was nodding beside her as if this were the most reasonable thing he'd ever heard.

"Okay, but Tendi, I also think you're attractive, nice, and I want us to be friends for life," Boimler said, with strained patience. "That doesn't mean I want to marry you."

But Rutherford frowned. "Hey man, don't hit on my wife, that's not cool."

"I wasn't hitting– I'm not–!" Brad gave up and just said wearily, "You know what, you guys, congratulations. If you're happy then we're happy."

"Thanks! We're already having so much fun!" Tendi exclaimed, counting off on her fingers: "We've moved into the same quarters, filed our marriage license with the Federation—ooh, Rutherford!" She turned to him and clapped her hands. "You know what we should do next?"

"No, what!"

"Consummate the marriage! It's really important to a lot of cultures, so this way our wedding will be extra-official!"

Mariner face-palmed as Rutherford snapped his fingers. "That's a great idea! And we've already got the rest of the night off!"

"Perfect! –Oh wait, but we promised you guys we'd celebrate with you," Tendi said, turning to them with a guilty expression.

Mariner just waved a hand, still pinching her nose with the other. "No, no. You guys go, uh, do whatever you want to do. We can celebrate later."

"A toast tonight, the real party tomorrow," Boimler agreed, lifting his glass. "To Tendi and Rutherford: may you have many happy years together."

"Indeed," T'Lyn said, raising her glass of tepid water; Mariner, still half-exasperated, did the same with her own drink and a "Hear hear."

"Aw, you guys are the best," Tendi beamed as they all drank, standing up and taking the Padd back from T'Lyn.

"Yeah, for real, drinks on us tomorrow night!" Rutherford agreed, waving over his shoulder as Tendi took his hand and led him out of the bar. It was only once the doors had slid closed that Mariner let her head fall on the table with a soft kathunk.

"Y'know I know I call them mad geniuses behind their backs, but like, that was just an affectionate joke! I didn't think they were actually crazy!"

"Yeah," Boimler mused, patting her shoulder. "But at least they're the same kind of crazy."

T'Lyn raised an eyebrow at the remaining pair, tilting her head. "Are hasty marriages and announcing your upcoming sexual encounters a normal part of human or Orion culture?"

"Orions, no clue. Humans, not without a lot more alcohol," Mariner snorted, sitting up. "Look, Tendi and Ruthie just don't always understand, like, social cues and stuff; you'll get used to it."

"Curious." She checked the time and stood. "If the celebrations for their nuptials are to be postponed until tomorrow, I think I will depart. There were some subspace readings I intended to review this week, and I anticipate that my planned chocolate consumption tomorrow will make analysis at that time more difficult."

"Probably a good idea; we'll see you tomorrow then?" Boimler said, as Mariner waved with a lazy Vulcan salute. T'Lyn nodded, returned the salute and then likewise departed, leaving the two redshirts alone. Mariner shook her head and picked up her drink.

"Crazy," she repeated again, more vehemently this time. "They're crazy."

"Mmhm."

"I mean this is insane, right? You can't just get married at the drop of a hat like that!" She waved the glass so dramatically that the purple liquid inside threatened to slosh over the side.

Boimler quirked an eyebrow. "You okay? You seem stressed out."

"Wh– me? I'm fine," she said with a wave and a "psh!" sound. "Totally fine." He raised the other dubious eyebrow at her, and she rolled her eyes. "Okay, yeah, I'm freaking out a little here."

"Why? It's not like you're the one who got married."

"Because if they break up it's going to make things weird for all of us! I don't know, I just– I thought they were platonic, okay?! I mean you saw them, are they even aware of what marriage means? They're acting like it's some sort of new best-friendship level! What if things go wrong?"

"You're making a lot of assumptions," he pointed out. "They've been best friends forever, they practically slept in the same bunk for two years–" Something about the phrase made Mariner twitch in annoyance, "–and apparently they are attracted to each other, since they seemed fine with the idea of 'consummating.' Sure, I think they rushed the marriage bit a little, but just because you didn't see it coming doesn't mean this is out of the blue. I saw this coming like a mile away."

"I guess," she grumbled, swirling the contents of her glass irritably. "I still think it's a bad idea, though."

"Look, Mariner, I don't think it's really our job to judge whether our best friends' marriage is going to work out. Besides, why are you so convinced it won't?"

"I'm not saying it'll go bad for sure," she said, taking a drink, and then added: "All I'm saying is, I would never date a friend, let alone elope with one."

Funny, Bradward thought to himself. Dashed hopes sounded exactly the same in your head as a shattering limited-edition Tuvok collector's plate. "Huh. That's…interesting," he said carefully, trying not to cut himself on the metaphorical broken pottery and bleed all over his best friend. "What's your reasoning?"

Mariner shrugged. "You don't shit where you eat, that's just common sense."

He frowned. "Is that really how you see romantic relationships?"

"Look it's a crude metaphor but the point stands," she said, pointing at him over her glass. "I mean look at me and Jen, we were getting to be really good friends before and now we barely even talk."

"Because you won't forgive her," Brad pointed out. "You forgave me, why not Jennifer?"

"First off, you were just a little less-than-supportive, she was a stone-cold bitch; second off, you apologized and she hasn't–" That was pretty unfair, Brad thought, considering that Mariner's silent but very clear cold shoulder towards Sh'reyan ever since she'd returned to the ship had persuaded the Andorian to steer clear of her path for the time being, "–and third, who I choose to graciously pardon is my business."

He gave up. "Okay fine. Look, my point is, I'm not sure what your plan is here Mariner. I mean wouldn't any long-term relationship kind of require becoming friends anyway?"

"Yeah well, now you know why you've never seen me in a long-term relationship." She flashed him a smile and took a sip from her drink.

"That's…bleak."

"Look, I know not everyone agrees but this works for me." She shrugged and set the drink down. "I don't date friends, okay? A real friend, someone you can count on, someone you want to always be there… you don't risk screwing that up." Her gaze flickered down to the glass. "Romantic relationships always end one of two ways, and I'm not the lifelong-commitment sort. Obviously."

"Mariner–"

"Besides, why mess with a good thing?" She looked up and met his eyes. "Right, Boims?"

And just like that, he realized: she knew. This wasn't just a conversation, this was a rejection. Still, he had to know—if only for his own sanity, he had to know whether he'd just been making it all up in his head. "...Even if you felt the same way?"

"Especially if I felt the same way," she answered steadily, still holding his gaze. After a long moment, he nodded.

"...Right." He knew how to take a no, after all—even if it was crushing every single atrium and ventricle in his heart. "No, you're right. When you've got a good thing, you– you don't push it."

"A perfect thing," she corrected firmly. "Maybe even the best thing in your life. That's not something you take a risk on."

"Yeah. I know." And he managed a very small, pained smile, picking up his own drink. "To good friends."

Damn it all if the relief in her face wasn't downright palpable. "To good friends," she agreed, lifting her own.

And if the half-full glasses sounded a little hollow when they clinked them together, both pretended not to notice.