Dining Room #2, U.S.S. Longbourn: Stardate 2275.309 at 1934 hours
Mary placed her glass of water back on the table as everybody was standing up. The Vulcan cuisine had been bland, which was how she normally preferred her food, but the lack of spices was extreme even for her. Relieved that the mandatory socialization was over, Mary stood up to leave, but was intercepted by a pesky engineer. Charlotte slung her arm around Mary's shoulders and navigated her to the side of the room, the soft voices of their fellow guests a soothing background noise.
"Did you fix my biobed yet?" Mary asked, her face scrunching up minutely in irritation as she removed Charlotte's arm from its perch.
Charlotte's expression went from sly to grumpy in a heartbeat. "No, shut up, this is more important." The engineer always told herself that she was a professional, but something about Mary brought out the older sister in her.
At times, she was either fiercely protective of the girl, or had some familial affection toward her, but more often than not Mary just annoyed her.
"And you told me that wasn't a priority at the moment!"
The doctor threw her hands up, scoffing out a "Yeah, but it's still medical equipment, and I put in a request for it weeks ago-"
"I'll fix it, I'll fix it, but I have some information that I think you'll find fascinating," Charlotte sang the last word, and she could tell by the way Mary tilted her head back a little and squinted her eyes that she was curious.
"Go on."
You see, Mary had a weak spot that not many knew about due to her closed-off nature. Despite her seeming disinterest in anybody who wasn't sick, she had a voracious appetite for information in general- which included gossip about the people around her. She liked to spend her days off with her head buried in a nonfictional book on one of her PADDs, she toured museums during shore leaves, and, yes, she usually kept an ear out for any rumors about her fellow officers. To be fair to Mary, she never conveyed those rumors to anybody else, especially if there wasn't a lot of evidence to back up the claims, and she liked to think it didn't color her view of the subjects of said rumors. But information was information, and she prided herself on collecting any shred of knowledge.
In short, she was a little bit of a know-it-all.
Charlotte casually turned to face the wall, Mary instinctively following the gesture. "Alright, so James told me," Charlotte began, before leaning in and lowering her voice, "a little thing he learned from visiting Vulcan when he was a teenager. Apparently, Vulcans get the same effects from chocolate that humans get from alcohol. Isn't that an interesting tidbit?"
Turning her suspicious gaze back to the engineer, Mary asked, "That is interesting, but why are you telling me this?"
"Maybe I just thought you would like to know," Charlotte replied innocently.
Mary may be bad at reading people sometimes, but Charlotte wasn't fooling her for one second. Waiting patiently until Charlotte cracked, the doctor stood there until finally-
"Fine! I thought eventually seeing drunk Vulcans would be funny. And since you speak their language, maybe you could convince them to do it," she confessed, mumbling the last part.
Mary tilted her head in confusion. "I don't speak Vulcan."
"I swear you were born into the wrong species, you logic loving goon," the engineer claimed in a saccharine voice as she reached up to squeeze Mary's cheek, syrupy sweet affection in her voice. The doctor slapped her hand away in irritation.
Charlotte took the opportunity of the lull in their conversation to pull her uniform top away from her neck. "My god, it is sweltering in here."
"I don't know," Mary said, shrugging slightly, "I think it feels great."
Shaking her head gently, Charlotte let out a quiet laugh in faux amusement. "Ohhhh, Mary, always so contrar-y. Look, if anyone could convince the Vulcans to experiment with chocolate, who better than a fellow scientist? Think what an amazing feather in your cap that would be! You'd be one of the few humans with actual insight into how Terran chemicals affect the Vulcan nervous system. As a medical professional with Vulcans in your care, it would be-"
"Fascinating. I read in depth about Vulcans when I found out the commander was going to be on the crew, and nowhere did it mention these sort of effects. Of course, Vulcans are secretive about many of their attributes and anatom-"
Charlotte cut off the impending lecture, waving her hand urgently while doing so. "Do you hear Lizzie walking toward us? She has the loudest gait ever, I swear every time I hear her walk I thank every deity I know that I lived with her in the Academy and not in the room beneath-"
Out of the corner of her eye, Mary could see the captain sneaking toward them, and instinctively moved away from Charlotte in a subtle fit of panic. The engineer mirrored the move, an unhelpful voice in her head yelling, "Abort! Abort mission!" while she tried to keep her expression cool.
The lies slipped out of the women fairly easily at the captain's questioning, and they each went their separate ways. One of them was pondering the best way to convince-slash-trick a few Vulcans to consume chocolate, and the other woman was prematurely celebrating the former's ultimate victory as well as her own access to the ship's security cameras.
Ten Forward, U.S.S. Longbourn: Stardate 2275.309 at 2045 hours
T'hain, despite the fact that she remembered every single event in her life leading up to this evening, couldn't quite understand how she came to be in this position.
She had been informed earlier in the day of her partner's plans for the evening with the captain, and Georgiana had kindly urged her girlfriend to spend this time with her brother. (Urged, lovingly threatened, toma-to, to-mato). To this end, T'hain had approached the commander after dinner, and inquired about his plans for the rest of the night. Before they could decide on an activity, Doctor Bennet had interrupted them to suggest that the group go to the Ten Forward.
Neither Mary nor the Vulcans had enough social-awareness to realize she was imposing, and even if they did, the Vulcans did not have the emotional delicacy necessary to reject the suggestion.
Therefore, the small group of people made their way toward the bar, where Mary had the chance to propose another scheme. After straight- forwardly inquiring about their knowledge about what effects chocolate had on a Vulcan's nervous system, and their personal experiences with intoxication, the doctor brought over three chocolate cocktails that the bartender had expertly made. Of course, it took a little convincing on Mary's part. Vulcans were immune to peer-pressure, so the doctor framed it as something of a physiological and cultural experiment, which appealed to the innate curiosity all Vulcans seem to have. Mary pulled out a PADD, opened up a new page, and debated on several points of the documentation process with T'hain before they all consumed their first drink with none too little anticipation.
In all honesty, the doctor had expected more resistance from the commander and his future sister-in-law. Yet when Mary discussed how group drinking was often seen in their society as a means for creating social bonds, Darcy was surprisingly quick to consent. T'hain, wanting the approval of her partner's only sibling, couldn't agree fast enough.
A couple of drinks turned into quite a few drinks, and a few drinks turned into many. Before long the table was littered with empty glasses, and the room had started spinning a little for all involved.
This is the scene Lizzie and Georgiana walked in on, the latter's nose wrinkling at the subtle bitter smell of alcohol that lingered over them. Mary's arms gestured sluggishly, only narrowly missing knocking over her still half-full glass; she was clearly in the middle of a story.
"Oh, and a little bit of context here," she said in what she clearly thought was a whisper, but was at the volume she normally spoke at, "everyone called him 'Seabiscuit', cause Charlotte told us all she heard he was hung like a horse."
Lizzie held back a snort as she continued to walk up to their table, still unnoticed by its inhabitants.
"I do not understand," T'hain confessed, the slightest bit of slurring noticeable in her speech, "This man, he hung a horse. Why would somebody do that?"
The captain's eyes darted toward Darcy's, instinctively wanting to share in the joke with him, but the commander was busy peering absentmindedly out the large viewing window next to their table. It was easy to see what had captured his attention: glowing blurs of the of bright stars and planetary bodies they were passing by, shining against the black, vast void of space. He looked peaceful, exactly where he was, gazing out into space and listening to the rambling stories of an intoxicated coworker. Lizzie almost didn't want to break up their gathering; the commander let loose so rarely, and he deserved a simple night out more than anyone else on her crew.
"Are you having fun?" Georgiana asked her partner slyly, clearly delighted by the situation. Her hands smoothed down T'hain's still immaculate hair, and the Vulcan leaned into the gesture, which in turn made Georgiana break out into an infatuated grin.
Hearing his sister's voice broke Will out of his trance, his eyebrows raising with lazy surprise as he took in the newcomers. Darcy's eyes connected with the captain's and his expression settled once again into the same one he had looking out at the stars- with contentment and slight awe. Slightly overwhelmed by his stare, Lizzie turned to her sister just in time to see her almost knock over a glass.
"So," the captain brought her hand down forcefully on her sister's shoulders as she stepped up beside her, "I heard from a little birdie that some people were having perhaps too much fun. Care to comment, Mary?"
T'hain gasped softly. "There's a parrot on board? Marvelous."
Shaking her head vehemently (and then stopping abruptly at the dizziness that ensued), Mary explained, "It's an idiom often used by humans to playfully impart a piece information to the relevant party while keeping the informant confidential."
Her sister was very impressed at how articulate the doctor was, especially given how she was slowing leaning to her right even as she expanded on her statement.
"Also, did you know that parrots are not the only avian species from Earth capable of imitating speech? In addition, there are cockatoos, parakeets-"
"That information isn't really needed right now, Mary," Lizzie interrupted, shaking her sister's shoulder slightly to draw her attention. "You all have been cut off."
Mary placed her hand to her chest in outrage. "They cut us off?!"
"Fair enough," Darcy muttered as watched T'Hain nuzzle in his sister's hip.
Looking critically at the glasses that crowded the tabletop, Lizzie performed a little math in her head. "How much water have each of you had since you started drinking?" I didn't think I would ever need to ask Vulcans that question, but here we are.
"Let me check," Mary mumbled while lifting up the PADD and glancing over the chart on the screen. "Darcy consumed approximately .56 liters of water, T'hain had .63-"
Tugging the PADD out of her sister's hand, Lizzie scanned over the numbers, her eyes bugging out in shock. "That's not a lot of water compared to the insane amount of alcohol you collectively drank. Mary, don't you have hypos on hand to help with hangovers? Because if not I think tomorrow morning is going to be hard on you guys." She made sure to keep her tone chiding, although she was having trouble not laughing at the little boozehounds.
The aforementioned hyposprays were somewhat of a point of pride for the doctor. Most people in her profession would prescribe a common hypo for dehydration, but Mary had taken that medication, tinkered with, and then perfected it before publishing the results. Not only did her hypos mitigate the effects of dehydration, but they also increased the liver enzymes necessary for eliminating alcohol from the body and assisted with electrolyte balance. Needless to say that despite her blunt and sometimes misanthropic personality, she was still very sought after at the academy.
The only issue? Her new and improved hypos expired... fast.
Should she have thought of that before starting the binge drinking? Probably. Did she regret her decision to drink until the cows came home? Absolutely not.
But it was a little too late for that now. At this point, she probably couldn't have told somebody how to mix the hypos, much less done it herself. And, to top it off-
"I'm not sure how those hypos would impact a Vulcan's physiology. Their hepatic enzymes are different from a human's, minutely different, but different all the same. I would need time when I have more of my faculties, as practicing medicine while intoxicated is not only irresponsible but -"
"Just say you're too drunk to do it, this is taking forever," Lizzie pleaded, tapping an imaginary wristwatch.
Mary rolled her eyes slowly until they landed on her sister. "Okay, I'm too drunk to do it. Happy?"
"Almost never," the captain joked. "I think you all should have some more water, and then maybe it's time for some sleep."
Mary started shaking her head before Lizzie finished speaking. "But it's almost time to test their motor skills and reflexes again."
"Nope, not only are you cut off from any drinks, you're also cut off from your experiment." Here's the thing nobody told Lizzie before assigning her this position: captaincy felt more like being a babysitter for fully functional adults than anything else. People all over thought being a captain was glamorous, but most of her job consisted of delegation, and then following up to ensure the jobs actually got done. It was like being somebody's impulse control times a hundred. Usually, these type of little responsibilities left her feeling a bit irritated. Couldn't they just do their work without needing me to remind them?
But seeing a drunk Vulcan- a drunk Darcy- was leaving her more amused than anything else. For somebody usually so guarded, his posture was now open and pliable as he leaned his chin against a fist and smiled lazily. The captain wistfully wished that she was that relaxed at the moment. However, a bigger part of her knew her second-in-command definitely needed a night like this, so she was glad to see him so content.
And was that a dimple on his cheek?! Did Darcy have dimples?
A tender feeling unfurled inside of her chest at the sight of his inebriated grin directed towards their sisters. But of course, Lizzie unconsciously shoved that tendril of sentiment as far down as it would go and it took its place among some other stifled memories (some examples: the time she sneezed so hard she ended up almost knocking herself unconscious and the time she said "orgasm" instead of "organism" while working on a Biology project with her crush at the time).
Instead she thought about the next steps. "Are you all going to be okay tonight? Is anybody nauseous or unable to walk back to your quarters?"
"Psst listen," Mary whispered-yelled again, leaning in toward the captain. The captain obliged her by leaning down the slightest bit. "Look, I'll be okay tonight- I know my limits- but it's probably best that the commander and T'hain be supervised for at least for the next couple of hours, if not through the night. You can take them to the med-bay and Levae can watch them, she's on-call right now."
"Oh, no" Georgiana interjected, "that's not necessary; I can watch them. I'll just have to observe them for signs of alcohol poisoning, right Dr. Bennet?"
"Yes, if our hypothesis is correct and chocolate affects Vulcans like ethanol does to humans then, most likely, that would include adverse effects. If they start vomiting within the next few hours or become unresponsive, call the med-bay or me." Mary continued to tilt to her right at a glacial pace.
"That's easy enough!" Georgiana said cheerfully before her face fell at her new thought. "Although our guest quarters don't have enough room for my brother. Could I watch them in med-bay?"
"There's no need for that," the captain waved, dismissing the suggestion before offering to help. "You take T'Hain, and the commander can sleep on my couch."
Georgiana quickly considered the captain's proposal. What if her brother said something off-putting or odd in his drunken state? Would Elizabeth think it funny or would she be offended? She didn't seem like the type to offend easily, but damn it Georgiana had a plan here, and that plan did not include these types of variables. Maybe this experience could bring them closer? Georgiana knew that was the tenacious optimism in her that was speaking, but she had reason to be hopeful about that outcome. Within the last few minutes her brother had not acted in an annoying manner, and seemed to just be content with his lot in life, sitting there in his chair and smiling absentmindedly.
And honestly, she didn't have that many options. Their designated room did only have one bed, and although Will probably could sleep on a meditation nap it wouldn't be the most comfortable thing.
"Yeah," Georgiana agreed, trying to hide her hesitation (it wouldn't do to have the captain think she didn't trust her brother with her), "that would be very appreciated. You'll let me know if it becomes too much trouble?"
"I'm sure we'll be fine! Won't we, Darcy?"
The Vulcan's head lolled as he stared up at the captain confusedly. "I believe the room is spinning."
Placing her hand on his shoulder, the captain leaned in and confided with a small grin, "I think that might be all the drinks you had."
Georgiana and Lizzie convinced the tipsy lushes to get up from the table and make their way toward the door. The doctor pointed at the bartender as threateningly as a thoroughly sloshed person could. "I won't forget this, Elijah," Mary thundered, her hands clamping onto her head and her eyes widening menacingly, "my mind is a steel trap. I remember everything!"
"Uhm," the young man cowered (but definitely would not admit that out loud at any point in his life), "My name is Ethan."
"Like I said, Elliott, it's a steel trap!"
"Ha ha," Lizzie forced out what ended up being a more nervous sounding laugh than what she had been aiming for, "she's just joking. I really appreciate the heads up, thank you Ethan." And with that the group walked out the door and into the chilly hallway.
The captain threw her arm around her little sister, giving her an obnoxious- but affectionate- kiss on her temple as the group made their way toward the other side of the ship. She turned giddy as they began the stroll down the hallway, a paradoxical sense of nostalgia and adventure settling deep in her sternum as she looked around at her sister along with her new friends. They weren't on-shift right now, there weren't any reports or emergencies waiting for her- she could feel her shoulders loosen and her mood lighten. "Only you would think a fun night out consists of running a few experiments with the aid of some tipsy participants. Most people get drunk to forget work, Mary, not get drunk so they can do different work."
"It was an opportunity we couldn't pass up! Consider it a multi-organizational collaboration that furthers our knowledge of the Vulcan's physiological response to ethanol. It was for-"
"Don't you fucking say it-"
"-science."
The loud groan that emanated from the captain turned several heads of ensigns passing by. "It's a good thing I love you, because sometimes I hate you."
The captain did mean to direct everybody to their own respective quarters- she really did- but it was like trying to herd a flock of cats.
A flock of very drunk cats.
Instead of the guest rooms, they had somehow ended up in a mostly empty recreation room.
"This definitely reminds me of my Academy days: trying to make sure they don't die on their way back to their dorms, listening to the drunken academic ramblings, even the late-night ping pong!" she exclaimed, throwing her arm out to where their sisters were seemingly testing T'Hain's response time by throwing the ball toward her end and recording her hit-and-miss times. Shrugging one shoulder, she absentmindedly told her first-in-command. "You know what I'm talking about."
"It might be difficult to fathom, but I did not habitually attend any sort of gatherings where intoxication was common." Darcy didn't look mournful at his own statement, but that didn't stop the captain's heart from twinging at the thought of a young Vulcan being excluded from social gatherings.
"Then what made tonight different?"
"I wanted to experience a human tradition, I suppose. Also, " he added in a sheepish tone, "I have been informed that I am tad judgmental against the entire species, I thought maybe getting into a human mindset would help correct that."
A knot of shame intertwined with a streak of happiness and settled low in her gut. On one hand, she didn't mean to guilt trip him into doing activities he wouldn't have done otherwise, but on the other hand she was secretly pleased he thought enough of her opinion to try new things. She frowned as she turned until she was facing him and admitted quietly, "I never wanted to push you into doing anything you were uncomfortable with."
Darcy shook his head vehemently before clenching his eyes shut at the oncoming nausea. "I was not uncomfortable. In fact, I would say I enjoyed tonight immensely. This evening has been enlightening."
"Are you sure you're going to still think that tomorrow morning when your hangover is kicking your ass?" the captain quipped, and got a low chuckle from Darcy in return.
Lizzie almost jumped in surprise at the sound. Thinking back, she couldn't remember Darcy ever laughing in her presence. It was a pleasant sound, deep and a little coarse, and Lizzie couldn't help but grin stupidly at the man.
Her grin faded as the commander leaned towards her, his ardent gaze peering at her almost questioningly as his eyes darted down.
Instinctively, Lizzie felt her eyes flutter shut. Her breathing quickened, and her heart was beating so hard she felt like anybody could see it thud against her rib cage. There were no thoughts in her head: not about her own rules, not about future repercussions, not about the fact that their siblings were in the same room. She wasn't old exactly, but at that moment she felt young- like a kid with a crush. Leaning in just slightly, she felt a small, sweet ache in anticipation, and then suddenly she felt a light touch.
On her nose.
There was a fingertip on her nose.
"Boop."
"Did you just... boop my nose?" she stuttered out, bafflement almost robbing her of her words as her eyes snapped back open.
There was that chuckle again, and Lizzie forgot about any sort of fleeting embarrassment in the face of Will's amusement. He just looked so proud of himself, standing there and grinning widely at her reaction.
"Yeah," Darcy hiccupped before glancing over at the women surrounding the ping pong table. "You know, maybe I should go over and test my reflexes too. Charles used to love playing that game. The trick is when you pull back the paddle to hit…" During this pause the commander quickly pulled back his arm, elbow extending backwards and-
Crunch.
Both of them looked down at the wall in surprise. The captain's eyebrow flew up in dismay at the newly formed dent in the wall. Her companion let out a nervous drunken giggle. "Woops."
"Woops! Just woops? Didn't that hurt?" she asked shrilly, taking his arm a little forcefully and rolling up the sleeve until she could see his elbow, lifting it up until it was closer to her eye level. The cut and/or bruising she was expecting to see was completely absent, and she ran her fingers over the unblemished skin to verify that he was in fact uninjured. Next to her, Darcy let out a soft gust of air and she looked up at him in question.
There was no other word to describe her expression. He looked awed by her.
Releasing her grip on his arm, Lizzie took a tiny step back, and Darcy moved forward as if pulled. "You… you were worried about me."
"Well obviously," now Lizzie was the one to laugh nervously, "you just dented the metal wall with your elbow, which would be very painful for someone. A human someone, I guess, but still, that had to have hurt a little."
His fingers traced the skin she had just touched. "I feel great, actually."
"Ha, maybe that's the alcohol talking," the captain teased, laughing a little at her own joke and pretending to ignore Darcy's muttered, "No, definitely not the alcohol."
Lizzie raised her voice so the other people in their party could hear her. "I think it's time everybody hit the hay. Come on, time to turn in," she commanded, pursing her lips in mock indignation at her sister's groan. The three other people in the rec room glanced over at their area before turning back to their conversation.
They slowly made their way out of the room, and Georgiana stopped her at the corner of the hallway before their party needed to split and head toward their respective quarters.
"Thank you for helping my brother tonight. I really would take him but…" she trailed off, and her new friend was quick to reply.
"Really, I don't mind. It's not a big deal. Hopefully he remembers everything and I can tease him mercilessly about it for the next, oh, three years at least."
"As well you should," Georgiana agreed gamely. "If you need anything, you know where to find us. Good night, Elizabeth. Good night, Will," she added as she led T'Hain down the opposite direction.
Turning away, Lizzie threw her arm over her sister's shoulders. "You feeling any better, Mary?"
The doctor pulled away only to slide down the wall once her back was touching it.
"I was on the verge of a breakthrough! Or a breakdown. One or the other," her sister lamented, pouting fiercely.
Knowing her sister like she did, the captain wasn't even a little surprised by the sudden change of mood. The few times she saw her little sister drink a little too excessively, a similar mood swing had affected her. "Good god, I almost forgot what a morbid drunk you are. It's so rare to actually see the alcohol make an impact through that thick skull of yours."
"Alcohol doesn't permeate the skull itself, but the blood brain barrier-"
"No shit, Mary. I was being glib," Lizzie replied tiredly, her small smile showing her inner amusement at her sister. "I promise, you'll feel less like that in the morning, like you always do."
"Life is a game in which we are destined to lose."
The captain convinced Mary to get up and walk toward her room, ignored her depressive insights the entire way there. Darcy trailed after them, seemingly thoughtful about Mary's philosophical thoughts. Lizzie hurried them before Mary got anymore morose. It's too bad her sister couldn't have been a fun drunk like Lydia was.
Of course, Lizzie never had to pry Mary off a Ronald McDonald statue while a group of children stared in shock, so maybe it was for the best. They finally arrived at the doctor's quarters, and the commander waited in the hallway while she made sure her sister was comfortably situated.
"And Mary? Tomorrow we're going to have a little chat, mostly because I know tonight was your doing."
Mary gave a pitiful groan.
The captain tried stifling her affectionate grin, but it broke through anyways as she pushed her sister's hair back from where it was hanging in front of her face. "Do you want me to call Levae and have her give you a hypo? Since you won't have to mix it yourself."
"No," Mary shrugged, "I don't want to bother her, I'll be fine. And if not then you can consider that my punishment."
"Okay, sweetie," she hugged her sister, a kernel of familial affection settling in her bones, "I'll check on you in the morning. Sleep tight."
Snuggling further into her sheets, Mary barely heard her sister, but gave an affirmative grunt in reply anyways.
A few minutes later, Darcy was giving a similar grunt as he collapsed face first onto the captain's couch after kicking off his shoes.
Lizzie looked consideringly at his prone form. That couch didn't seem big enough for him. Although his head was practically flush at one end, his feet were hanging off the other side. The captain pulled on his arm while pointing to her bed in the next room. "Come on, Darcy, let's move you to the bed."
The commander's head popped up; somehow, he already had bed-head, even though he had only laid down for a few seconds.
"I will be fine on the couch, I do not want to inconvenience you."
After a short, but amicable, argument that ended with Darcy snoozing peacefully on her Egyptian cotton sheets, the captain sat at her desk with a PADD in her hand, occasionally looking through her open bedroom door to check on him. The commander looked young- his forehead smoothed out and mouth opened a tiny bit, just enough to release a soft exhale every time he breathed out. He had sprawled out across the bed, which was unexpected to the captain, who thought that he would've slept with his arms neatly crossed over his chest and legs straight.
Maybe she was thinking of vampires.
Anyways, she had a couple of hours to kill while watching to make sure her co-worker didn't aspirate his own vomit, so she flipped to the page on Vulcans she had been perusing when her mother called her earlier that day. She read for over half an hour before sitting up in alarm at a new paragraph.
Because many Vulcans have an aptitude for touch-telepathy, members of this species tend to avoid skin-to-skin contact unless necessary. This habit prevents any unintentional violation of another person's mind or unintentional reading of emotions, and…
A memory whispered at the back of her mind, and the captain suddenly recalled how she practically fondled her commander's elbow earlier in the night. Skin-to-skin contact….
Woops.