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sleepycat82 · 15 days ago

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So excited for more of this!!!

The Baker's Baker - Part Two

Thank you so much to everyone who gave the first part of this fic a chance! There will be 4 parts overall, so we're halfway there! Without any further ado, I present Part Two!

Part 1 here.

Cross-posted here.

~*~

Lawrence Baker (MSW) x Reader

[A/N: There will be smut/smut adjacent content in future parts, so 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI!!!]

Warnings: Flirting, they're attracted to each other and not hiding it at all, kissing, a discussed age gap but it's not specific, I can't think of anything else? Protective Seth, maybe?

~*~

I knocked confidently when I reached the Borbey House Sunday night. The ever-stoic face that had been my unfortunate re-introduction to the estate greeted me when it opened.

"Good evening, sir. I believe Mr. Baker is expecting me," I said giving Peter a warm smile, despite his aloof demeanor.

The square jaw and sharp, steely eyes belonging to Mr. Baker's butler weren't quite as intimidating as they had been before. After having seen him with a dot of sky blue frosting on the tip of his nose, I couldn't quite bring myself to be afraid of him.

"Of course. Please, come in." Although taken aback by his newly-found cordial attitude, I crossed the threshold with my head held high. The quiet, familiar creaks of the floorboards in the dark entryway felt as though they were a hug from an old friend. Even after all these years, Borbey House still felt more like home than anywhere else. "May I take your coat?"

Surprisingly gentle, glove-covered hands helped me out of my coat, and I followed Mr. Jatich further into the house. Scaffolding and ladders, saws and pieces of wood stored atop sawhorses littered several open spaces in the rooms we passed creating a sort of construction maze. Given the state of the formal dining room when we passed it - furniture shoved to one side and various bits of drywall and flooring exposed for repairs - I gathered that Lawrence and I would be dining elsewhere.

Sure enough, Peter led me into the lounge instead where a small table was set up near the window. In truth, the room was something of a sitting room and library combined into one. The deep burgundy red of the walls coupled with the dark walnut bookshelves made the space a rather moody one, and incidentally, my favorite place in all of Borbey House. It was peaceful there, and I'd spent many hours curled up in one of the armchairs reading one of the ancient tomes that inhabited the shelves.

I couldn't suppress the smile that stretched my lips as I noted that nothing in here had been changed beyond the drapes.

"Mr. Baker will join you in just a moment. Please, feel free to look around, if you like, but I must insist you stay away from the areas under construction. Mr. Baker would be most displeased should a guest be injured under his roof," Peter said, and despite the vaguely ominous sound of his warning, I got the feeling that he didn't harbor any ill intent.

He closed the doors behind him, and I forced myself to walk at a reasonable pace over to the bookshelves. I hadn't really expected many familiar titles to be left, but I was pleased to note that I recognized almost all of the faded, worn spines. Skimming my fingertips lightly along the titles, I walked over to the hearth where a fire crackled away in the grate.

"Hello, old friend," I whispered touching the intricately carved wooden mantle. Judging by its sheen, the varnish had been given a fresh coat recently. At least Mr. Baker had a good eye for beautiful things. If he'd replaced the mantelpiece, I'd have had good reason to question his eyesight despite those red sunglasses of his.

I was so absorbed in my thoughts that I missed the sound of the door opening once more.

"My god," a quiet, husky voice murmured, and I turned to see my host looking at me with something akin to wonder in his eyes. "There's an angel in my library..."

A smile stretched his lips, showing off the lines on either side of his mouth. He was a vision in his crisp suit, perfectly polished shoes, and a deep red tie.

"Good evening, Mr. Baker." Mercifully, my voice didn't betray my nerves over being alone with such an attractive man. As he walked slowly toward the hearth where I stood, the fire's light sparkled and danced in his eyes.

"Please, call me Larry," he said grasping my hand and bringing it to his lips. Instead of releasing me afterwards, though, he stepped a little closer and laid my hand over his chest. Lost in his eyes, I was only brought back to reality by the crackling of wood in the fireplace.

"I see you've already made a few changes - improvements, of course," I said as I glanced around the sitting room.

"Forgive me, but you sound as though you've been here before...?"

"Oh, I have." The look of surprise that flitted across his face tugged a mischievous smile from my lips. "The previous owners were family friends long before they moved away. On school nights when my parents had to work late, I'd come here. I practically grew up in this house. I've read the majority of the books on these shelves, and I know many of this old place's secrets."

Taking a few slow steps toward me, Lawrence lifted my hand in his.

"Well, then perhaps you could share a few of them with a curious fellow student of history?" He kissed my knuckles softly and caught me with an utterly smoldering stare as he moved closer.

"I might be persuaded to give you a few hints, but if you keep looking at me like that, Mr. Baker, I might not be able to focus very well."

"Maybe that was my intention," he murmured, laying one of his hands on my waist. The warmth of his body seeped through our clothing easily when he coaxed me up against him. My heart thudded rapidly in my chest as his gaze dropped to my lips. Was he–?

"Excuse me, sir, but Mr. Weatherly is requesting a conversation about the renovations." Peter's voice snapped us both out of our trance, but Larry didn't let me go. He simply swallowed heavily and tightened his grip on my waist.

"I'm busy."

"I'm sorry, sir, but he said it was urgent." No sooner had Peter stopped talking than Charlie strode past him.

"I know it's late, but I fi–" he broke off when he saw me standing in his client's arms. "Oh, I...don't mean to interrupt, but I..."

Lawrence sighed and turned to face his contractor, but his arm wrapped firmly around my middle, making it clear that this was not the end of our discussion.

"This had better be important, Mr. Weatherly," he said with a tight smile. Admittedly, I shared his thinly-veiled frustration.

Charlie's eyes flicked between us. A lingering question about my presence hung in the air, but I didn't shy away. I had as much right to be here as anyone else.

"I have the figures you asked for, b-but they can wait–"

"Then why did you claim it was urgent?"

"Well, it's just that the specs you gave me seem off, sir. No offense, but I'm going to need to take another set of measurements in all the upstairs rooms to confirm–"

"Then take them. Tomorrow. As you can see, I'm entertaining a guest tonight," Lawrence said giving me his most charming smile. "My dear, this is Charles Weatherly, my contractor..."

With a small smile, I nodded my head.

"Charlie and I have known each other for years. He's like an older brother to me," I murmured, and the man in question agreed.

"You look good, kid. Y'know, Mr. Baker, she doesn't pull out that dress for just anyone. Consider yourself lucky," Charlie said as he laid a file on a table near the couch. "I'll leave the preliminary specs with you, and I'll come back tomorrow around nine to take the new measurements, if that's alright."

"Good. Thank you, Mr. Weatherly," my date said as he turned to face me once more. When we were alone again, he tilted my chin up. "Was he telling the truth about the dress?"

My cheeks began to burn under the heat of his gaze.

"You mean, do I really reserve it for special occasions? Yes."

A Cheshire grin split his lips, and he skimmed his thumb lightly over my chin.

"I can think of no higher honor than for you to consider this evening with me special," he murmured, "especially after your less-than-warm welcome."

"You were charming enough to make up for it," I mused gliding my fingertips along the lapel of his suit jacket. Larry smirked at that.

"Damn, you're dangerous. You really do know how to stroke a man's ego, don't you?" At his inquiry, I leaned in and whispered teasingly into his ear.

"You don't know the half of it." His hands gripped my waist tighter as a groan escaped him.

"Perhaps we ought to change topics before I do something impulsive," he murmured. "You said that you spent a great deal of time here over the years, yes?"

"Absolutely."

"Then perhaps you'll recognize this," Larry said walking over to a small set of drawers and opening the top one. He closed it after pulling out something small. When he turned around, something small and metallic glittered in his palm. I took a closer look and froze.

It was an earring - small red beads secured by golden wire. I had a similar pair, but mine had green beads instead of red.

This was Laurel Perrin's earring. She was wearing it the day she disappeared. She'd been in the Borbey House, but why? And, where was the other one? Had this simply fallen off, or had she removed them and lost one?

"Darling?" My date's voice snapped me out of my thoughts and I realized how long I'd been silent. He looked worried. "Are you alright?"

Forcing myself to smile, I nodded my head.

"Oh, yes! I'm fine. Sorry, it's just...well, I haven't seen this is in so long. I was wondering where it had been." Guilt began to gnaw at me as soon as I opened my mouth. What I'd said was technically only half a lie. The earring had been lost along with Laurel, and I hadn't expected to see it again unless she was found, so...? No, there was no disguising it: this was definitely a lie. I just hoped Larry wouldn't see through it yet. I needed to figure out what this meant, and...well, I really did like him. I didn't want to deceive him, even with innocent intentions, but my experience with Jessica and her mysteries made it crystal clear that sometimes it was necessary in order to discover the truth. "Thank you. I never thought I'd see this again."

That much, at least, was true.

"You're very welcome. I'm honored to have had the chance to return something so pretty to its rightful owner," he said skimming his knuckles lightly down the side of my face. His eyes dropped to my lips, and I wondered if he would kiss me tonight. "You mentioned something about this place holding secrets. I don't suppose I could convince you to show me one of them tonight...?"

With a smirk, I slipped the earring into the small clutch purse I'd brought with me and walked over to the bookcase. Curling a finger at him, I watched with feline satisfaction as Larry came toward me.

"Have you looked through all of these books?" I asked, and he lifted an eyebrow.

"Well, not yet. Some of William Borbey's personal diaries and a few pretty little first editions," he said watching me carefully as I reached up and caressed the spines of a few leatherbound books. "Why?"

"Because, I think this one in particular might interest you," I said pausing with my finger atop the volume and looking at my date. Allowing him to do the honors, I moved my hand, and he pulled the book from its spot. When I lifted my eyebrows encouragingly, he opened the cover to find glued together pages with a slot carved in the center. Inside was a small, pocket-sized book with long-yellowed pages covered in beautiful cursive writing.

"A book within a book?" He mused as he set the larger of the two down to focus on the smaller. "'Amidst the roses, she shines like the moon and all the stars. O, my lovely Sarah, a single day without you is as the ending of the world.' William Borbey wrote this, didn't he?"

Larry looked at me, thoroughly intrigued, and I nodded my head.

"I found that years ago. When I told the Masons - the people who used to live here - they agreed that it should be kept intact with the house," I explained. "When they sold this place, I was worried it might be torn down for some new real estate venture or someone who might not care for the place as well as it deserved. That's terribly sentimental, I know, but with little historical secrets like that dotted around the house..."

I trailed off with a shrug and Larry set the little book atop its container novel before taking my hands in his grasp.

"Well, I certainly hope that I will prove to be a worthy resident." His clear, blue eyes searched mine, and in such close proximity, I felt as though my soul was laid bare for him.

"I think you will be," I murmured, hoping that my voice sounded much steadier than I felt. "Now, tell me, how did you know that was written by William Borbey after just those two short sentences?"

At that he smiled just as deviously as I had earlier.

"He left diaries," Larry stated simply, and I blinked up at him.

"You've read them already? I got the impression that you'd only glanced through them."

"I spent several long days and nights going through each one. I assume you have, as well?"

"From cover to cover!" At my confirmation, my date looked utterly gleeful. In the brief pause before we launched ourselves into a conversation that would ultimately last us until well past midnight, Peter laid our dinner out on the little table by the window and excused himself for the night.

When we finally realized how late it had become, Larry insisted on escorting me across the street personally, arm-in-arm.

"I have thoroughly enjoyed your company this evening, and it could simply be an old man's imagination, but I believe - I hope - that I'm correct when I say that you might have as well," he said as we paused before my front door. Moonlight poured down over us, sparkling in Larry's eyes like jewels.

"Of course I did, and you are hardly an old man." Giving his hands a gentle squeeze, I smiled up at him only to watch his gaze slip to my lips.

"In that case," he began, "would it be too forward if I begged the honor of a kiss?"

My heart raced in my chest. His consideration for my own wishes coupled with my own desire for him had me moving before I could think. Though it was careful and brief, my lips met his beneath the twinkling stars.

When he finally bade me goodnight with a soft smile stretching his lips, I felt as though I could float.

I was only able to sleep for a few hours before I needed to be back at the bakery. My shop opened at nine each morning, but Larry and I hadn't parted company until nearly one thirty. The date - and that lovely kiss - had been worth the slight drowsiness in the morning.

After stocking the cases for the day, I finally got a chance to check in with Seth. The call connected after just one ring, with a rather curt greeting.

"Yes?"

"Seth? Are you alright?"

"Well, you took your sweet time, didn't you, darlin'? I had half a mind to send Sheriff Metzger to do a wellness check. Lord knows the man would have trouble climbing out of a bathtub, but I bet he could manage peekin' through a shop window," the Doctor groused. "I wouldn't put it past that Baker fella to do somethin' unsavory."

I rolled my eyes affectionately at his paranoia.

"We had a perfectly lovely evening, and for your information, Seth Hazlitt, Mr. Lawrence Baker was a perfect gentleman," I emphasized as I wiped down the counter in preparation for my first customers of the day.

"I just had Loretta from the beauty parlor in here askin' after you. Apparently, there is a rumor circulatin' that you didn't leave the Borbey place until damn near two o'clock!"

A sigh escaped me. Several ladies on my street frequented Loretta's, so I couldn't exactly pinpoint who'd spied on us. Ah, the hazards of life in a small town like Cabot Cove.

"What can I say, Seth? I don't have to justify my behavior like a wayward teenager." Tossing the cloth I'd been using into a small bin for things that needed to be washed, I readjusted the phone against my ear. "He and I got talking, lost track of time, and I got home late. So what? Seth, he's knowledgeable and funny. I enjoyed his company."

The doctor grumbled under his breath.

"Just as long as he doesn't try anything."

"He wouldn't dare, and even if he did, I can defend myself," I said trying to reassure him. When all he gave me was a noncommittal harrumph, mischief poked me firmly. "Besides, he's a great kisser. Talk to you later, Seth!"

While he was still spluttering in outrage, I set the phone back on its cradle and giggled a bit to myself. I'd pay for that later, but that was alright. I'd box up a half dozen of his favorite muffins before the day was done as an apology.

One apology, several dates, and a few weeks later, I found myself in Philip Holt's store with Jessica. As she perused his wallpaper sample books, I glanced curiously at a few items on display. Within moments, Philip Holt was by my side. His daughter was engaged to Laurel's brother, Dave, and since I'd been Laurel's friend for so many years, Mr. Holt was a good friend.

"I'm worried about you." Philip's murmured comment as I browsed his inventory made me look up at him. "That Baker fellow...nobody knows anything about him other than he's apparently rich."

I knew he meant well since he'd known me and my family for the majority of my life, but I still bristled with indignance. Did the entirety of Cabot Cove have an opinion about my seeing Mr. Baker?

"They don't seem to care that his life isn't their business, either–"

"No, you don't understand. I had Bill Truslow over at the bank check up on him, and–" he broke off as Mrs. Fletcher brought a swatch of wallpaper over to the counter. "Find what you need, Jess?"

"Yes, I think this would be perfect, but I feel like I should ask first: how long would it take to get if you ordered it?"

I was grateful for the topic change, even if it was unintentional on my friend's part. I moved down the counter and flipped open one of the sample books in an effort to look busy.

"We've got that in stock," Mr. Holt said checking his records.

"Oh wonderful!" Mrs. Fletcher let out a sigh of relief about something finally going her way. "I think my luck is finally changing."

"That pattern will be lovely, Jess," I chimed in while I skimmed through the wallpaper swatches.

"You said it would take two rolls to cover the bathroom?" She asked, and Mr. Holt gave her a confirmation. "Good, then I'll take those with me."

"I'll go grab 'em for you," he said making his way through the doors at the back toward his stock room. In the meantime, I closed the sample book and walked over to Jessica.

"The new contractor is coming over at seven tomorrow morning," she murmured. "Hopefully he won't abandon me like Charlie did for the Borbey house job."

Before I could say a word in reply, though, the door to the shop opened with a jingle. With a crisp, tailored suit, a fancy red tie, and perfectly polished shoes, Lawrence Baker walked into store looking like a million bucks. He closed the door after himself, glanced at the empty space behind the counter and looked around the store until his eyes met mine. The smile that spread across his lips sent a shiver of anticipation down my spine.

"Good evening, Larry," I called as he reflexively straightened his suit and made his way over to us. He lifted my hands to his lips and gave my knuckles a near-reverent kiss.

"Hello, beautiful," he murmured, and for the first time he caught sight of the fact that we weren't alone. He looped one his arms around my waist, pulling me gently against his side as he turned to face Jessica.

"Mr. Baker, this is a very dear friend of mine, Jessica Fletcher. Jess, this is Mr. Lawrence Baker." He shook her hand warmly.

"Ah, Mrs. Fletcher. Yes, I recognize you from the photographs on your book jackets. It's a pleasure, madam. I understand we're sharing a contractor."

"Well, we were until today," she corrected, and she did a very good job not expressing her frustration as she had earlier that day with me and Seth.

"I'm truly sorry for the inconvenience," Larry said giving her an apologetic smile.

"Here you are, Jessica," Mr. Holt called as he carried the rolls of wallpaper in from the back. He looked up as he crossed the space, but when his eyes hit Mr. Baker, he froze and his jaw clenched. Larry was unfazed.

"Ah, Mr. Holt. Just the man I wanted to see," he said as the man in question resumed his route to the back of the counter. "You see, I wanted to speak to you before you closed about the property that you have for sale on the road just south of town."

"It's not for sale," the merchant grumbled as he set Mrs. Fletcher's wallpaper down and placed his hands firmly on the counter, "and we're closed."

Larry let out quiet laugh.

"Not according to your sign, and my understanding is that the property is for sale." At Philip's scowl, Mr. Baker lifted an eyebrow. "Really, sir, if you treat all of your customers like this it's a wonder you're still in business."

"We have nothing to say to one another, Mr. Baker."

"I think we do. It's obviously not about real estate, though, is it?" He asked as he gripped my waist a little tighter.

"Philip–"

"You keep quiet," he snapped at me before turning back to Mr. Baker. "And you. You're old enough to be her father!"

"Well, judging by your behavior, I'm not sure you are." I bit my tongue quietly so I wouldn't laugh at Mr. Holt's stunned expression.

"Leave her alone and get out," he growled.

"I'll see you tonight, won't I?" At my affirmative answer, he gave a devilish smirk. "In that case, good evening, Mrs. Fletcher."

Not caring one whit about the shop owner's order, Larry tilted my chin up and gave me a gentle, unhurried kiss.

"See you soon, my darling." With a wink, he finally released his grip on my middle and left the shop, the bell over the door ringing in his wake.

"Was that behavior really necessary?" I asked fixing Mr. Holt with a glare which he returned steadily.

"You ask him who he is and where he comes from."

"What on earth are you talking about?" I asked raising an eyebrow in confusion.

"I was trying to tell you before he came in. Bill Truslow over at the bank did some checking on Mr. Baker at my request," Mr. Holt started. "There was no record. Nothing! Nobody ever heard of Lawrence Baker!"

That didn't necessarily mean anything on its own. He was rich enough to keep his life private, if the rumors were true. It wouldn't be the first time somebody shut up some officials with a cash incentive. True, it wasn't the most moral way of ensuring privacy, but it was effective.

"That's interesting," Jessica piped up. "According to Eve Simpson, he paid cash for the Borbey House."

Mulling this new information over, Jessica and I left Mr. Holt's store. By the time reached the street corner where we were supposed to part ways, I'd come up with a few different possibilities for why Mr. Baker would have no background and want to leave no paper trail.

Jessica called my name, and I turned to her.

"I'm not one to interfere with peoples' private affairs, but you will be careful around Mr. Baker, won't you?" She implored, and I agreed. Jessica was just being cautious, and I couldn't really blame her. Especially not when she was the queen of mysteries. She'd written about convicts and criminals enough that she was always that extra bit careful when circumstances seemed suspicious.

And, she was usually proved right, in the end.

Thus, I made a mental note to do a little covert reconnaissance the next time I saw Larry. A few delicately posed questions wouldn't give me away. After all, we were still getting to know each other. Questions were only natural at this stage. I just hoped I could find a way to ask them discreetly.

~*~*~

@bigblissandlove1 @starrynightgardens @sleepycat82

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sleepycat82 · 10 months ago

Note

Alright, so this is first time I am ever requesting something so I don't know, if I'm doing it right. I've read your last Hemmer Oneshot (as well as all your other Star Trek stuff) and thought I'd ask for a Hemmer x fem!reader Oneshot, as long as you're not bored yet.

How about a reader, who's not directly part of the crew but works in the bar and has a huge crush on Hemmer and therefore tries to ignore him, which he notices, however he thinks that she's scared/ digusted whatever. When Uhura then incidental and accidentally mentions that she (reader) actually really likes him, he really doesn't know what to do.

Just something fluffy with a bit of Angst, I guess. You can decide the ending, if you decide to actually write it. If not, no hard feelings.

Hey, Bartender

Author's Note: Sorry it's taken me so long to get this out, hope you enjoy! 🖤

Warnings: angst, fluff, f!reader.

It wasn't often Hemmer indulged in Nyota's offer to join the others in the bar for an after-shift nightcap, but after three weeks of long, grueling work and another away mission under his belt, his friends were threatening to drag him there themselves if he didn't show up tonight.

Seventeen-thirty on the dot, Nyota had said.

"And don't be late," She pointed at him and he could hear her smiling. "Or I'll send La'an after you."

While Hemmer has been sure the Security Officer wouldn't possibly bother trying to force someone to "take a load off", as Nyota had put it, La'an had begun to open up more as of late, and now he wasn't entirely sure if she wouldn't act as a begrudging enforcer if one of her friends asked it of her. Better to just show up and not find out.

And truth be told, he was enjoying it. His beverage was light enough to not inhibit his walk back to his quarters but it warmed his insides and encouraged him to relax into his seat as his senses expanded, allowing him to survey the room as everyone talked and laughed and had a good time.

He could sense eyes lingering on him, so he turned his head to the source. The bartender, a friendly human, fumbled with the glass she was drying when he faced her, nearly dropping it in her embarrassment.

He didn't know your name, but he knew you mostly worked Beta shift, and people often complimented your knowledge of cultural diversity since you served all different kinds of people and truly seemed in your element. You doled out a free drink or two if you knew it was someone's birthday, and according to Nyota, you always lent an ear—and occasionally some advice—for those that needed it.

But it confused him exponentially; you didn't act that way with him. In fact, he likened your behavior to repulsion, though he couldn't fathom why. Most people were fascinated by the Aenar like Nyota had been, but not you.

No, you made it a point to ask your co-worker to make his drinks for him when he deigned to accompany his friends for a "night out", and if you were working alone, your sentences were clipped and professional when you spoke to him. The drinks were always perfect—always—but you never lingered to talk to him like you did others.

"You should have another one," Nyota leaned over in her seat as she observes his empty glass. "You said it was good, didn't you?"

"It's great. That's the problem."

He senses her confusion before she voices it. "What do you mean? I'll make sure you get back to your room, you never have to worry about that."

"I know, that's not what I meant." The corners of his mouth turn up, amused. "And I should be saying that to you. Andorian liquor is quite potent. It would take many more of these to fully inhibit me."

"Alright show off." She rolls her eyes, leaning in her seat as she gives him her undivided attention. "What is it then?"

"I don't think the bartender appreciates my presence. I think she might actually hate me."

"What?" She glances over and sees you nibbling on your bottom lip in thought as you pour someone a beer. "Oh, that bartender. I get it."

"You do?" He asks dubiously.

"I do. She doesn't hate you."

He waits for her to continue, eyebrow ridges raising when she stays silent. "Well?"

She sighs uncomfortably, squirming in her seat. "I'm not really supposed to tell you."

"What am I supposed to do with that information? Either she likes me or she doesn't."

"What happened to being neutral?" She quips, confident she'd won and she wouldn't have to give up the secret she has been entrusted with.

"This is not political," His milky eyes narrow as she quotes the conversation they had the other day about Andorian and Aenar turmoil. "This is about wanting to know if I really do make her that uncomfortable, and how to fix it. I don't want to be the reason she feels she can't be comfortable at work."

He sounds so incredibly earnest that her stomach twists.

She groans. "She's got a bit of a crush on you, Hemmer—but you can't say anything, she made me swear I wouldn't tell you!"

"She..." He blinks, completely taken off guard. "She what?"

"Honestly I'm surprised you didn't figure it out on your own. You can't read her mind?"

"That's not how it works." He grimaces. "You don't just go around invading people's private thoughts. It's a very personal thing to allow someone into your mind! Like—"

"Don't say it." She interrupts, shaking her head. "Sorry I asked. But you should go talk to her, maybe she'll open up more if you make an effort and you can be friends."

He sets his glass down on the table and shoots her a look that's somehow more deadpan than normal. "Are you saying we can't be more than friends?"

"Well I don't know, Hemmer, do you like her that way?" She sasses.

"I don't know, Nyota, she's said all but two words to me."

"Then go say hello."

"Fine."

She tries in vain to suppress a grin but fails, crossing her arms as she sits back to watch him approach you. He sets his glass on the bar top, happy to wait for you to finish making drinks for a couple of technicians. Your eyes are bright and your expression cheerful, until you turn your body to address your newest customer.

And then your expression falls when you look at him and he can sense your hands shaking as you grip the counter. He instantly feels bad for ever making you feel nervous, even if his suspicions had been wrong.

"What can I get you?" You ask weakly. He smiles and shakes his head, gesturing to his half empty glass.

"I'm still working on this one."

"Oh..." You seem unsure on how to proceed, blinking confusedly.

"I did want to ask you a question, though."

You hold your breath, willing the butterflies in your stomach away. They don't listen and your palms start to sweat.

"Would you...want to get a drink with me? When you're off-duty?"

Nothing could prepare you for that question in a million years, and you feel your face heating up. Even though you're aware Hemmer can't physically see, you feel bare and vulnerable when you notice his antennae directed at you, like he's looking into your soul.

"Um..." You struggle to come up with a reply, hands starting to fidget. "I don't really like coming here when I'm off-duty, to be honest."

He seems to perk at that. This is the most you've said to him in one sitting.

"Understandable. What do you like to do?"

"I like to read." You blurt. "I know there's PADDs but I like the feeling of a real book in my hands. And the smell. I like the smell of the pages."

You shake your head, cursing yourself for rambling. "I'm sorry, you make me a little nervous."

"I'm getting that." His voice is as gentle as his smile, calming you down a bit and forcing you to take a breath. "The Enterprise will be docked by the end of the week, maybe we could see if there's a library in the city. If that's something you'd like to do."

A shy smile starts to stretch across your face. "Yeah. I'd love that actually."

"It's a date, then." His antennae sway happily, turning to go back to his seat where you spot Nyota huddled up with La'an and Una, all of them with mischievous and strangely proud expressions on their face.

You roll your eyes at them good-naturedly and turn to your next customer of the night, feeling like you could take on the universe.

#fluff #strange new worlds #star trek strange new worlds

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