#Christopher Pike X F!Reader

[elen-aranel]

Helloo~ May I make a Christopher Pike x reader request? It's a month old scuttlebutt, that the captain is involved with you, based solely on misconstrued events (leaving the direction of his quarters early morn in a rumpled uniform, stopping by medbay for a 'shot') Everyone knows that everyone knows, from cadet to captain. Except you don't. And noone has bothered checking. And the captain finds it funny (and you 'apparently' don't mind either as you've not bothered to shoot it down) so any moments you two have in view of others, he gives you a conspirational wink with some flirty banter. You think (hope) he's really flirting and not just being friendly.

Is it a bit much for a request? If so lemme know. Or i can commission? Idk. The idea hit me and it made me giggle with all the ways it could go.

Thank you so much for the request, and for your patience... this took a while! I hope you like the direction I've gone with it <333

Common Knowledge

Pairing: Christopher Pike x F!Reader (no Y/N) Warnings/Notes: Reader wears the dress version of the standard SNW uniform. Food mentions, alcohol mention. WC: 5.8k

It all starts the morning after you spent gamma shift in a Jeffries tube. Well. Several Jeffries tubes, in fact, chasing down an issue with a relay that had blown and taken a bunch of circuitry out with it, including some life support systems.

You’re feeling good, though, as you step out into the corridor on a deck full of crew quarters. Yes, your red uniform dress is creased and you’re in dire need of a shower, but the relay and the burned-out circuitry are replaced, and all systems are back online.

You deserve a water shower, not a sonic one, you tell yourself as you head toward the turbolift, nodding to the occasional officer as you walk by them. You just need to make sure the ops console on the bridge is reading everything correctly, then your duty shift will be done.

“Commander, Lieutenant,” you greet Lieutenant Commander Chin-Riley and Lieutenant Ortegas as you enter the turbolift. Unlike you, they both look fresh and ready to face the day. Number One nods in greeting, but Ortegas looks you up and down quite blatantly, and you find you’re trying to smooth your skirt despite yourself.

“Long night?”

“I—” you start, but before you can reply—

“Computer, hold. Open the doors,” Commander Chin-Riley says, and as you turn, Captain Pike is walking into the lift. And somehow, even though you’ve been on the Enterprise for a while, you’re never not struck by his presence. His broad shoulders. How handsome he is.

“Good morning, Number One, Ortegas. Lieutenant.” He puts an odd weight on your title, even though of course he knows your name, and then your mind goes blank as he winks one of those blue eyes.

“C-captain,” you stutter, well aware of Ortegas trying to stifle a laugh next to you.

“Sleep well?” Una asks, something knowing in her voice, after the captain directs the turbolift to the bridge.

“I’ve had… more restful nights,” he says, and looks at you sideways, doubtless taking in your rumpled dress and less-than-fresh appearance. “Like the lieutenant here, I’d wager,” he adds, and you must have missed a memo somewhere because this ‘lift ride has gotten very weird, very fast.

You decide keeping quiet is your best bet — it’s a short ride, thank goodness.

But you can’t shake the feeling that there are eyes on you as you finish your work on the bridge.

It may have started in a Jeffries tube, but it continues in sickbay.

You appreciate knowing sickbay is there. Doctor M'Benga and Nurse Chapel are skilled at their jobs, and you’ve had cause to be grateful for them when accidents happen, from a pulled muscle during a workout to a painful plasma burn from faulty equipment.

That doesn’t mean you love getting your quarterly check-up and shots. But you decided early on in your career that you weren’t going to be one of those people doctors had to chase for their physicals. Every three months you turn up. You’re due for routine vaccinations against some common alien viruses that human immune systems need reminders about, and your contraceptive shot.

Not that you really need it, of course. You aren’t getting any. The closest you’ve been since you joined the Enterprise was Lieutenant Paulson, a senior engineer who sometimes commands gamma shift when you’re on that rotation. He asked you out to dinner on Starbase 1, and while you like him as a person, you had to decline. You’d known him for a while, and never felt any kind of spark. And there’s been no-one— there’s been almost no-one else on the ship that you’re interested in. But still, you get your shot.

Today your appointment is during your shift. You didn’t want to be interrupted; you’re working on a new scanning device to be used on a planet with an unusual combination of atmosphere and magnetic field, which affects the resolution of normal scanners. So when your reminder went off you kept hold of your PADD, and you carried on entering the design parameters as you walked.

“Woah there,” a voice cuts through the equations you’re focussing on, and you feel hands on your arms, steadying you as you stumble.

As it turns out, walking with a PADD is a mistake.

Especially when you walk straight into the captain in the corridor outside sickbay.

“Captain! I’m so sorry! I—I was— I’ll pay more attention.” You look up, flustered, into his blue eyes, suddenly keenly aware of the bulk of him, of the controlled strength in his hands.  Happily, he seems amused rather than annoyed, that half smile playing about his lips.

“I do admire your... dedication, Lieutenant, but you’re right. Paying attention is a good idea.”

And as the doors to sickbay swish open, letting Chief Kyle and one of your fellow engineers out onto the corridor, you realise the captain hasn’t moved. You’re still in his space, and he’s still holding you.

“Captain, Lieutenant... are you joining us?” Nurse Chapel looks as though she’s suppressing a smile. “You’re, uh... both here for your quarterly shots, right?” she adds, as Pike finally steps back, and you walk with him into sickbay. You nod, mutely.

“Yes. Timed it perfectly this time, didn’t we Lieutenant?” he says, and he grins at you, knowing.

“Sure,” you find yourself saying, sitting down a little abruptly on the biobed Doctor M'Benga indicates. Is Pike… flirting with you? Or just being his usual warm self?

“This shouldn’t take too long. I’m sure you want to get back to your... duties.” M'Benga looks meaningfully at Pike, who shrugs, a picture of innocence.

“Can you blame us?”

You can’t help your smile.

But actually, now you really think about it, maybe you’re wrong.  Maybe it started with the onions.

You have a shift free, moving from nights to days as you do on a semi-regular basis, since some edict came down from Starfleet that people shouldn’t just work nights for health reasons. It doesn’t entirely make sense to you; you’re on a ship, so it’s not like anyone has a real day or night, but being able to socialise with people who are always on alpha is a plus, and you suppose the same rules apply to planetary bases which do have day and night.

The captain has invited you to dinner. That isn’t special, even though you wish it were – he likes to get to know the whole crew in an informal setting, and it’s just your turn. And maybe you over-think it just a little, during the day, planning what to wear to make yourself look pretty but not like you’d tried too hard.

Either way, you are early. You only realise as you press the chime for the door, when it’s too late to back out.

But the captain’s smile is warm and welcoming. “Hi, come in, come in. You any good with a vegetable knife?”

You grin in return, relaxing. “Yes sir. It’s been a little while, but I can chop.”

“Chris. We’re not on the clock right now.”

“Yes, Chris.” You follow him into the kitchen area of his quarters, taking in the fire, the view of a green forest through the windows, all the details that mark the space as his.

“Excellent. That spatial anomaly today— well. I’m playing catch-up here.”

“Oh wow, you really are...” the vegetables are all laid out ready, and there are a lot. But then, you don’t know how many people will be here. “Set me to work. How do you want the carrots?”

Pike’s knives are sharp and well balanced, and it’s easy to chop carrots into even circles, and to dice potatoes into neat cubes. You chat, too, about the food he’s making, and the special unit he had the ship’s botanists set up to let him grow fresh herbs in space.

You’re pretty much on autopilot by the time you get to the onions. You know the technique: you slice them in half through the root, then make sure you don’t cut the root again as you cut from close to the root to the tip, then across into chunks.

“So, there’s something I’m curious about,” you say as you grab the next onion.

“Oh?” Pike pauses for a moment, hand poised over the control for the oven.

“The forest overlay you have for the windows. Is it somewhere special to you? It’s really lovely.” You blink a little as you chop. Perhaps you got a lash or something in your eye.

Pike presses the control on the oven, then turns to look at you. “No, actually it’s—” he frowns. “Wait, are you all right?”

You blink again. “Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” Your brow draws together, and you put your knife down, turning to him a little more.

“Because you’re crying.” He starts towards you.

“Oh, damn.” You can feel it now — that tell-tale sting in your eyes. You look down at your chopping. “The onions. But I was being careful.” You sigh, blink again, and feel a tear roll down your cheek.

“If there are a lot it doesn’t matter how careful you are. I’m sorry, I should have done them.” He reaches past you, and you’re terribly aware of him in your space. He pulls off a piece of kitchen towel.

 “It’s not your fault—” the words die on your lips as he turns to face you, blue eyes filled with concern.

“I’ll just—I don’t want you to use your hands—” and he takes the towel and dabs your face, and you suck a little breath in at his closeness, wondering why it has to be in a circumstance like this, when the door chime goes. “Enter,” he says, distractedly, blotting away one more tear before stepping back. “There. No harm done. But you should wash up. Ah, Spock, perhaps you can take over the chopping.”

You look round to see that Spock, Sam Kirk, Ortegas and Uhura have all walked in, just in time to see you with red eyes from the onions. At least, you think as you wash the onion off your hands, your makeup is waterproof.

Regardless of how things did or did not start, you’re pretty sure the captain only thinks of you as a friend. That this flirting is just a joke between the two of you... even if you wish it were real. Either way, you decide you might as well enjoy it.

You get back to the transport point from your solo hike on Chi Orianis Prime – it’s beautiful, with fluffy peachy-pink grass that’s soft underfoot and smells very slightly citrus-y when you tread on it, interspersed with lavender coloured bushes, with views of blue lakes and red mountains in the distance – right as Pike gets back from his fishing trip. Given how he’s carrying his cooler, it must have been a successful one.

You’re just about to ask him about it when Chapel and Ortegas arrive, with Uhura and La’an in tow, laughing together. They’re wearing t-shirts and shorts and sandals, carrying towels — clearly back from the beach, La’an actually looking like she might have caught the sun a little.

You take a step closer to him.

“Enjoy your trip?” The smile on Erica’s face is just a little too innocent.

“Yes, thank you. Wouldn’t have been the same without the lieutenant here, though.” Pike catches your eye, and you smile back at him, sappy, playing along.

“The captain’s right. We had a good time.”

None of your close friends wanted to go to movie night with you tonight. They’re showing a classic 20th century Earth film, Casablanca, and none of them were interested in seeing something that old. But it seems pretty popular with the rest of the crew when you get there. You pick up some popcorn first, wondering once again whose idea it was to put a Starfleet delta on the containers, and you head to find a seat.

Maybe it was a good thing your friends didn’t come. There aren’t too many spaces left when you go to sit down, but there are a few seats a couple of rows in front of where Spock and Nurse Chapel are sitting together. You settle in, allowing yourself three pieces of popcorn before the lights go down.

And right before they do, Pike slides into the free seat next to you.

“I thought you were going to stand me up,” you tell him, tilting your popcorn container over.

“A gentleman would never,” he replies, and you can hear the smile in his voice as he takes a piece.

The back of the shuttle is open to the bay, and Cadets Novakova and Manuel, on engineering rotation, are standing inside it with you, PADDs in hand. You’ve popped a panel off the inside of the shuttle, and you indicate a junction point.

“So, okay. You want to interplex the circuitry here. What will be the result of that? What are you hoping to achieve?”

“Well, the increased signal strength will improve thruster response time and efficiency.” Manuel says, shrugging his broad shoulders like it’s obvious.

“Yes, and we need better responsiveness for the planet. The atmospheric differentials are almost out of spec.” Novakova nods. “This is the easiest way to achieve that.”

“All right. And looking at the systems in front of you, will there be any other consequences?”

“No, there shouldn’t, it should just—” there’s a pause, then Novakova steps back, playing with a twist of her blonde hair as she considers. “Wait. That pathway, it connects to the impulse engine as well, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, it does, and the boosted signal would go through there too…” Manuel’s fingers fly over his PADD.

They look at each other as the penny drops, and you notice Pike in the bay, listening in. You tilt your head and raise a brow in a silent invitation, but he shakes his head a little, content to observe.

“So if we interplex the circuitry there, we will get an increase in thruster efficiency, but at the expense of introducing instability into the impulse control matrix.” Manuel sighs.

“You’re flying along, minding your business and then boom. Impulse reactor overload.” Novakova winces. “I didn’t see that.”

You nod. “You didn’t. Because neither of you really looked. For what it’s worth, it would probably have worked on the shuttles at the academy. But these are a different model. You have to work with what’s actually in front of you. That’s half the battle.”

“Wise words, Lieutenant.” Pike leans into the back of the shuttle, and you can’t help your smile at the praise as the cadets turn to acknowledge him. “The two of you should take them to heart.”

You're sitting on a bench in the bar, sipping a favourite drink, listening to Ensign Thyra play an Earth guitar but sing a wistful sounding song in her native Andorian, when Lieutenant Ortegas sits down next to you. And then Nurse Chapel sits on your other side.

“So, you and the captain. How’s that going?” Christine’s opening is straight to the point.

You give her a sceptical look. “It... isn’t? Hi to you too, by the way.” You turn to Erica. “To both of you.”

“Oh, come on. You guys are not subtle.” Erica rolls her eyes. “It’s been scuttlebutt for weeks. Me, Number One,” she starts counting off on her fingers, “Christine, Mbenga, Uhura...”

“Sam Kirk,” Christine adds.

“Yes, Sam Kirk, Spock, La’an...”

 “We’ve all seen it. I even heard the cadets talking about it. Everyone knows.”

You shake your head, putting your drink down on the table in front of you. “We’re not... I don’t—” you look from one to the other. “There’s nothing between the captain and me.” You take a breath. “He flirts, sometimes I flirt back, but it’s just a joke.”

“Doesn’t look like a joke to me.” Christine says, her voice soft, almost sympathetic.

Erica shrugs. “It’s okay. You don’t have to admit it, if you guys are keeping things to yourselves... We just wanted you to know that we’re happy for you. Pike should have someone on the ship. And you. You should have someone too.” Her smile as she stands to leave is genuine.

“I—I’m not hiding anything. But thanks, I guess? I appreciate the sentiment.”

Arriving early when the captain invites you to a crew dinner is your habit now. You enjoy helping with prep when you can, and having a quiet moment to chat with Chris.

But this time you use the computer to check that others have arrived before you get there. You try to relax; these are your friends, Chris is your friend, but with what Erica and Christine said… you feel self-conscious. Second guessing everything you do and say.

 You leave as soon as you can without being rude.

You feel a bit self-conscious with work, too, although you try to bury it. Especially with Pike piloting the shuttle for this mission. You’re sitting in your tactical uniform in the back of shuttle Kepler with Spock, Sam Kirk, La’an, and a couple more science officers. You would expect Kirk especially to pass some comment, but even he is quiet, because Zeta Lyrae VI’s wind shear is every bit as bad as science predicted.

A long-range scanning probe identified it as a possible source of dilithium as well as some other useful minerals — visual scan only, though, because the strange magnetic field prevented scanning of the interior. But that’s where the scanner you developed comes in. The visual scan also tagged some potential ruins which Kirk will investigate, and there’s general surveying to do too.

You grit your teeth against the turbulence. You trust that the captain’s piloting skills and the modifications you and the cadets made to the shuttle will see you safely to the ground, but you still feel motion sick. You know, though, there are pattern enhancers in the cargo. Perhaps you’ll be able to beam back up.

The turbulence lessens as you get deeper into the atmosphere, but you’re still very glad when the shuttle touches down. There’s a metallic tang to the air as the shuttle door opens, but it’s cool and refreshing despite that, and you take a deep breath, settling your rolling stomach, before you get to work.

The dawn sky of Zeta Lyrae IV is muted shades of pale blue and grey, warming a little to mauve-pink at the horizon, where the two suns have just risen. Barren-looking plains stretch out in front of you, with a river lazily meandering across, and there are hills leading to mountains not far away to your right. It’s hard to make out, but the lines of dark stones partially embedded in the ground to your left could well be the remains of a wall, and there are other, more defined structures further away in that direction.

“Lieutenant, you have everything you need?”

“Yes sir.” You lift your last case again, the heavy one, and try to keep your face blank at the weight of it. You know you’ll be feeling it tomorrow, but its contents were too large for your backpack. “I’ve identified a site two kilometres away that’s suitable for the scanner base. Enhanced scanning should be online within an hour.”

Pike nods. “Kirk, La’an, you have the ruins. Spock, the science survey is yours.” He turns to you. “Let me help with that.”

“I’m fine, honestly,” you protest as Pike takes the case from you, fingers brushing yours for one tiny electric moment.

“We’ll make quicker time if we share the load. Which I’m sure Spock will appreciate.”

“Aye, sir.”

You notice that there’s no flirtatious comment today.

This planet feels a bit like a dream, with its dead quiet, muted colours, pearly grey sky and the two suns gently highlighting the landscape. The only evidence you can see of the turbulent atmosphere are the occasional blue-green clouds scudding quickly across the sky.

You pick your way through the pathless terrain, looking for any signs of life. While there are scraps of ragged looking vegetation here and there, a lot of it seems dead, and the planet as a whole seems mostly barren.

You don’t make conversation; there’s something about the planet’s quiet and your confused emotions that steals your ability to make small talk, and Pike is quiet too. There’s just the sound of two pairs of boots crunching on the ground.

Until you almost step on a flower: a seven petaled bloom in the shape of a star, pale blue in the middle deepening to grey-purple just at the tips. You pause to get a better look, to see if there are any others like it nearby, but it seems solitary.

“Are you all right, Lieutenant?”

You look up to see Pike has stopped too, mild concern on his face.

“Yes sir, I’m fine.” You straighten up. “I just... this flower is the only one I’ve seen, and I wonder... is it the last gasp of the life that used to live on this planet, or is it a glimpse of hope for the future?”

Pike glances at the flower, but his focus is on you when he speaks. “We’ll likely never know, but I... I choose hope.”

The site you chose from the visual scan is obvious when you get there. You’re at the edge of the hills, and there’s a grey cliff curving round one edge of a flat open area. Geophysics had identified it as a potential location for dilithium, and as you get close you can see veins of the pink crystal running through the rock.

Now you just need to find out how much there is.

With Pike helping it doesn’t take too long to set the scanner up. You start with the base in the case he was carrying, and together you fold it out into a large circle, locking struts and its three legs in place.

You attach the probe that will drill into the soil, the antennas to communicate with the smaller unit near the shuttle and with the Enterprise, and to facilitate scanning in the atmosphere. Finally, you attach the computer from your backpack which is the brains of the system — you can’t help your private smile of satisfaction as it comes online. The shuttle is far enough away that its systems don’t affect the sensitive scans, and when the probe deploys and calibration data flows straight through immediately.

You talk to Commander Pelia and Lieutenant Spock on comms, making adjustments on the fly to the different parameters, optimising the uplink from the scanner and away team’s tricorders to the Enterprise.

Pike checks in with La’an at some point, but next time you look up you see he’s a little way away, tricorder out, following a standard scanning pattern working outward from where you are. You’re a little surprised he didn’t tell you that’s what he was going to do. Then the scanner beeps as the drill returns a result outside expected tolerances, pulling your focus.

It’s easier to get lost in your work than think about him, and for a long while, you do.

“Lieutenant, do you see that?” There’s a note of concern in Pike’s voice, and you follow his gaze to the horizon to your right.

It almost looks like a distant rain shower would on Earth, but there are green lights sparking all through it. Like lightning but less directional. You take a breath, and realise the metallic smell has intensified, to the point you can almost taste it.

“Yes, sir, I do.” You turn and meet Pike’s eyes.

“Plasma storm?”

“Plasma storm.” You redirect your scanner’s gain to maximum in that direction, sacrificing resolution elsewhere.

Pike’s tone is rueful. “Should’ve known when I scanned a burned patch of vegetation. It must have developed quickly.”

“Looks like it’s moving fast, too.”

“I’ll contact the rest of the away team, have them meet us at the shuttle. You start packing.”

“Sir,” you reply, distracted, already deep in the scanner readouts. You vaguely hear Pike calling Spock, then La’an, but you’re focused on one last scan.

“Lieutenant? I gave you an order.”

“Yes sir, you did, but look.” You point to the readout of the storm’s speed on the screen. “Scans show that even if we leave right now, we can’t make it back to the shuttle before the storm hits. We don’t even have time for them to pick us up.”

Pike frowns. “Options?”

“The cliff. There’s a cave system behind it. I don’t think there’s an entrance close enough, but...”

“Phasers? All this dilithium makes it risky.”

“Plasma burns are no fun, sir. I would know.”

He raises a brow. “Sounds like a story for later. All right. Let’s do this.”

You grab your phaser from your holster and dial the power up.

“Fire.”

You focus your beam on the weakest spot, and Pike fires at it too. And... nothing happens, for long enough for a shade of doubt to creep in. Then there’s a sound, a pile of rubble, and a gap. Just large enough for a person.

The cave is dark. It’s big, too, enough that the torches on your vests can’t illuminate the other side from where you are.

The storm is still raging outside, but the sound of it is quiet in here; the narrow space you opened the gap into curved round for a few metres before opening out into the space you’re in.

Now all you can do is sit and wait.

And you’re so aware of Pike, sitting with you.

He’s quiet, and now you come to think of it he has been all day. Definitely no flirting. You try to steal a glance at him, see what he’s thinking, but it’s too dark, and you don’t want to turn to face him.

You cast around for a distraction, and find a piece of dilithium embedded in the rock floor of the cavern next to you. The surface is flat and glassy-smooth, but with a few imperfections, and you like the feel of it under your fingers. In your head you go over the dilithium crystal eigenstates you memorised at the academy in one of your classes in warp field mechanics, and calculate the power output you would need for your phaser to trigger different levels.

“Sir, I’d like to try something, to give us some more light. It’s safe.”

“Sure. Go ahead.”

You adjust your phaser to its second lowest setting, scoot across a little and fire on the dilithium, counting seconds in your head. It starts glowing red immediately, but as you shut the beam off the glow spreads, along one vein, then another, then another, until the whole cavern is lit up like its own galaxy, surrounding you on the floor, the walls, the ceiling.

“Wow, that’s—that’s good work. Thank you.”

There’s something in his expression as he looks at you, the wonder in his eyes melting into a smile, that makes you brave.

“So… I had an—an interesting chat with Chapel and Ortegas the other day.”

“Oh?”

“Apparently the scuttlebutt is that we’re dating... we’ve been dating for a while. They wouldn’t believe me when I told them it wasn’t true.” You stare out across the cavern at all the glimmering lights.

“Oh.” He exhales. “Hah, yeah… I’m, uh, sorry about that? Things… got away from me.” You hear him stir, move into a different position.

You frown. “I don’t understand. What are you sorry for?”

“I’ve always been interested in you. And you’re not the sort of person that’s cowed by rank – Paulson is your superior, in your chain of command, but I was in the bar when he asked you to dinner, and you were so sure of yourself when you rejected him. So that day in the turbolift, Una and Erica jumping to conclusions... Your face was a picture, and I had to take Una’s bait. But by the time she told me there was already a rumour, you were joining in, and I—”

His voice goes quiet, like a confession.

“I couldn’t stop. And that wasn’t fair to you… making you an object of gossip like that.”

“Chris, I—” but now it comes to it, you can’t find the words. How do you tell him that you wouldn’t mind, not at all, if only the gossip were real? “But you did stop. We’ve barely spoken today. Until now.”

“I can read the room. You weren’t up for it the other night. Or today. And… I would never force my attentions where they clearly aren’t wanted.”

“But... they are, Chris. They are wanted.”

The cavern is dead quiet, and you almost wonder if you actually spoke aloud. But the look in Pike’s eyes when you finally turn to meet them—

“Lieutenant Spock to Captain Pike. Come in, please.”

Pike shrugs a little, face apologetic, as he flips open his communicator.

The ride back to the Enterprise is as quiet, and bumpy, as the ride to the planet. Spock and the rest of the away team had sheltered in the shuttle with shields up while the storm passed over them, and when the Enterprise’s scanners had shown that another one was forming, they came to pick you up.

All the equipment you left outside was destroyed.

But you think, as you climb in the shuttle, you catch a glimpse of one of those star-shaped flowers, still intact. Still blooming.

And Pike makes a point to catch your eye as you leave the shuttle bay. It’s subtle, but you recognise the invitation.

You think you can smell food as you press Pike’s door chime, and the scent only gets more appetising as you walk in. The lights are low, apart from the fire burning brightly, and Pike pauses, apron on over his gold uniform, to smile at you as you walk over to the kitchen area.

“You came.”

“Of course.”

He picks a small bottle up, and pours from it into a salad bowl in front of him. “I hope you’re hungry… I may have gone a little overboard on the mac and cheese. I thought we could use a little comfort food after that planet.”

“It smells amazing. Anything I can do to help?”

“It’s almost ready. You could pour the wine?” He indicates to the bottle and two glasses on one end of his L shape table. You uncork the chilled bottle and take care of the drinks while he brings plates, salad, and the macaroni cheese, piping hot and smelling delicious.

Sitting next to Chris, rather than opposite like you might at a restaurant or on the other side of the L as you have when you’ve been to crew meals here, feels so intimate. As he reaches over to get some salad, or you go to pick up your glass to sip some chardonnay, you can’t help but touch. You try not to let being this close to him distract you… as intimate as this is, as hopeful as you are, nothing is settled.

You take a bite of your pasta and sigh. “It’s perfect, Chris. Creamy, the cheese— everything. Perfect comfort food. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” You see him relax a little as you load up another forkful; he cares what you think.

You eat for a while in companionable quiet, then he takes a breath.

“I’m planning on demoting Spock. He has the worst timing.” He quirks one of those half smiles at you, the kind that make you melt a little, but then his expression goes serious.

“My position on this ship… I have to be careful of it. Your training – everyone’s training – tells you to do as I say. So, if I’m… interested… in someone, usually I try to set that aside.” He puts his fork down and shakes his head a little. “Clearly I didn’t do well on that score with you. But… I would have to be sure, before I truly pursue anything, that a person isn’t saying yes because of my rank.”

“I told myself that flirting was just a joke between us. That you don’t get involved with your crew. I want it to be real, but when people assumed that it was… It spooked me for a moment there.” You turn to face him more fully, to look into his eyes.

“I understand what it means for you to be Captain Pike. I understand that the Enterprise comes before me. But I felt that—that pull toward you, long before whatever this was started. It’s not your rank, your position of authority, Chris, it’s you.”

Chris stands from his chair, reaching a hand out to you. You stand and take it, his fingers warm in yours, and let him draw you to him, feeling the press of his body all along yours. You stare into his eyes, and see a wonder there that you’re sure he sees in your eyes too – the knowledge that you can finally have this. But then your eyes drift shut as he kisses you, gently, unhurried, savouring the moment.

You part for just a second, and then it gets passionate as you kiss him back, one hand on his chest, while his other hand finds its way to your lower back, holding you tighter. Your lips part, his tongue finds yours and you taste him, and you can’t get enough.

“So I know your shots are up to date,” Chris says, voice gravelly, when you pause for breath. “Would you like to take this to the bedroom?”

“Yes please.” You don’t care if you sound needy; you just want him. He takes your hand again and leads the way.

You are not quite sure what happened to your dress. You remember Chris helping you take it off last night, but quite how it got this crumpled is a bit of a mystery. You lift it up from the floor, and try to shake it out, not very successfully.

“Breakfast is served,” Chris says, looking fresh and neat in his uniform, not a hair out of place. No evidence to be seen of your activities last night, or how little sleep he may have had. “Oh, did you want a new uniform? I can synthesise one.”

“No need. I’ll have time to change in my quarters before shift.” You pull it on and try to smooth your skirt. “Breakfast?”

“Waffles. And real maple syrup. I know this little farm—”

It isn’t far from Pike’s quarters to the turbolift, and the officers in the corridor nod and smile to you as usual. Until you meet Lieutenant Ortegas.

She looks you up and down, taking in your creased dress with a raised brow and a sly smile. “I saw the duty rosters; I know you’re on alpha today. So… you get lucky last night?”

You try to hide your smile, but you feel too good – you don’t really want to.

“Yes, Erica, I did.”

Everyone will know, but you don’t mind. You and Chris are at the start of something special.

[queenlyfae]

HEADCANON: You��re Captain Christopher Pike’s Feral SO

Captain Pike x Female Reader

Authors Note: this was partially beta read but 100% written on my phone

◦ Really?

◦ You.

◦ No really, you?

◦ This is Captain Christopher Pike of the USS enterprise and you’re… you.

◦ When the discovery heard that Captain Pike long time SO (or as he told Michael ‘I have a Lady, she means the world to me and I had to pull a lot of strings to bring her over from my ship to here.”) was coming over from the Enterprise, they were expecting… not you.

◦ This got told to your face multiple times, especially by Tilly, not even questioning why she was helping carry your stuff to the captains quarters until she was halfway back to her own quarters and then she was like ‘…wait’

◦ Tilly’s your favourite, tbh.

◦ As Paul Staments once said when the entire ship realised you were Pike’s SO:

“it’s nothing against you, it’s just that you’re… you and Captain Pike is Captain Pike. When you think of who Captain Pike’s Lady would be, you think of someone very… Pikey. Not… you.”

◦ (If you imagine it in Anthony Rapp’s voice it makes total sense and doesn’t sound bitchy at all)

◦ In the crews defence, at no point did you or Pike ever attempt to correct them or let them know who exactly Pikes SO was.

◦ They just knew you came over from the Enterprise, that’s it.

◦ No one’s exactly sure what you do, like one moment you’re working with the ship’s Botanists and they’re like ‘oh okay’, and then the next moment you’re spelunking down a turbolift shute becuase Tilly’s gotten stuck in one.

◦ Even Spock not sure what you do. Do you know how hard it is to confuse a Vulcan?

◦ it’s actually Not that hard but now’s NOT THE TIME

◦ Then people starting seeing the two of you interact, usually in the form of you complaining as Pike took your second, third, it’s only my fifth if you’re going by binary numbers, caffeinated drink from you in the mess hall, shooting you a smile and a comment about how he doesn’t need his crew members all wired up.

◦ And because of well, everything about you (your lack of height, seemingly permanent babyface, etc etc), everyone just assumed that maybe you were a ensign of some sort that he felt a kinship too and was attempting to mentor through the command training program, because clearly you’re a ensign right?

◦ …Right?

◦ Oh, you’re a commander?

◦ *censored*

◦ You being Pike’s SO isn’t even a remote possibility, which is weird because you would think that they would suspect something, considering you’ve left the CAPTAINS QUARTERS IN DAYLIGHT HOURS IN FRONT OF OTHER CREW MEMBERs

◦ Also that one time you sat on Pikes lap during a party one time but everyone thought it was because you were tipsy and nobody noticed the way his hand was resting super high on your thigh and you could get away with it because ???

◦ It’s not until the one MINOR explosion that lands you in medbay and when the Captain hears about you getting some minor shrapnel to the leg and suddenly he’s running to medbay, pale as a ghost, and suddenly people realize this isn’t some weird mentor/mentee relationship but rather some weird romantic relationship.

◦ I mean, they didn’t realize something until you started getting into a very loud argument with him.

(it’s not uncommon for you to start arguments you’re a very argumentative person)

anyone passing by medbay that day saw you on the bed, yelling at him, while he stood there, hands on his hips, dumb smirk on his face like he’s turned on by it.

◦ He kinda is, not going to lie.

◦ Then Someone, yelled something about inches, and that’s when it clicked all across the ship.

◦ The man goes into double digits let’s be reasonable here.

◦ Jett Reno’s been suspicious of you two since the beginning, and it was pretty much confirmed for her one night when she ran into you and Pike stumbling out of his ready room with slightly messy clothes, giggling like teenagers, but it wasn’t her place to say

◦ Which again, begs the question- you?

◦ I mean he’s Captain Pike, he’s like the poster Boy Scout of Starfleet.

◦ You can usually be found scowling in the background somewhere, clutching your beloved caffeinated drink, a scowl on your face, usually grumbling about idiots as you diffuse yet another crisis.

◦ you also don’t like people, really.

Okay you don’t like MOST people, besides Pike, and that’s… questionable most days.

Pike said something about having some tramua from childhood you still need to resolve but idk

◦ Also you drink hot sauce on its own who does that.

So while you could usually be counting on for helping out the various groups and units on the ship, the only person you really opened up too on Discovery was Pike.

How you and Pike became a couple no one, not even Pike, are not really sure.

Okay Pike knows how but his mother raised him to be a gentleman and a gentleman doesn’t discuss dirty laundry.

Unless it’s with Spock and they were really drunk on Klingon Blood Wine and he felt so guilty about it afterwords he swore Spock to secrecy.

Spock does tells it to Kirk and Bones years later because he doesn’t understand why you and Pike were a thing really.

They don’t either tbh

So it’s a understatement when theres a unspoken rule formed shortly after you arrived was that no one got between you and your food.

If someone needed you for something and you happened to be eating during that moment, they could wait.

Even Pike knew not to mess with you unless it was like the entire crew/universe was at stake (and if that was the case he’d get you to get your food to go because in Pike’s words ‘you get bitey when you’re Hangry.’)

◦ That is until some jackass in engineering made Tilly cry over a minor mistake she made, and the day you hear about it, you’re having lunch.

A lunch you’ve been talking about looking forward for six weeks because Pike got his hands on some Bajorian argendi sandwiches for the crew, and it’s not everyday that you get bajorian argendi sandwiches.

Sometimes Pike will make one for you but that’s only after you do that one thing for him, and the last time Chris even thought about asking you to that one thing, it gave Spock a month long migraine so it’s been a hot moment for the two of you.

◦ You have a vanilla latte, a banjorian argendi sandwich on mapa bread, and a new bottle of hot sauce in front of you.

◦ The one thing that would make this day perfect is if you had someone’s you know what to look forward too later but THATS NOT THE POINT

◦ But then Tilly comes into the mess hall, trying and failing to hide her tears right as you’re pouring hot sauce on your argendi sandwich.

◦ You see this and everyone else goes quiet when with a sigh, you push your sandwich away and you walk over to her, and ask if she’s okay and you take her for a walk to talk about it.

◦ When asked about it, Tilly just smiles and makes a joke about how she underestimated Pike’s… girlfriend? Wife? Life partner?

◦ Again what are you?

◦ Jett Reno later sees you dressing down the crew member that made Tilly cry but again, not her place to say anything, she says, as she retells it though with glee.

[ozarkthedog]

summary — Chris makes a replica of his chair so you can finally ride him in it.

warnings — Capt. Christopher Pike x F!Reader. smut. thigh riding. dick riding. dirty talk. slight power play. degradation. slight threat of someone joining. soft!Chris. basically pure filth.

word count — 1.5k

author’s note — finished SNW and my trekkie heart is in love. never did i think i’d be writing Star Trek smut but alas, here i am. i have no shame. 🙃

☽ 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ♁ 𝐎𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞'𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 ☾

“Chris! What?! How?!” You exclaim with confused excitement. Your jaw opens and closes like a fish out of water.

What looked like a spitting image of his Captain’s chair was placed next to his bed. 

There’s no way he took it off the bridge. Or did he? 

You run your fingers over the supple leather and feel the warmth that radiates under the tips. The buttons and knobs are all in the same spot. The chrome plating is sparkling and so shiny you can see your reflection. 

“I had it made.” Chris explains, wrapping his arms around you. 

His chest is broad against your back, “I figured it was the best course of action. I really didn’t want to have to explain to the crew why the Captain’s chair suddenly disappeared.’’

You yelp in surprise when he nips at the column of your neck. His tongue swipes away the sting as he suckles lightly on the tiny teeth shaped indents. 

“What’dya say? Wanna take it for a ride?” He asks after sliding his lips from your skin.

Your belly tumbles in anticipation of finally having your fantasy come true. You’d had constant daydreams after you witnessed him in command one day. 

The authority. The confidence. Those thighs. 

The smutty images of climbing into his lap and riding him until you both were writhing messes drove you mad. Every time you rode him, you’d picture him in that godforsaken chair.  

His hands stretch the expanse of your torso, dragging you back to reality and forcing your ass to grind against the large bulge that steadily grows. 

Your cunt clenches as he cups you through your leggings and presses into the damp, covered seam of you.

“Already wet. Why am I not surprised?” Chris mocks and grinds his aching cock harder against your ass. Deft fingers circle your tiny clothed nub eliciting wicked gasps and spine tingling pleasure to course through you.

His breath is hot in your ear. “Gonna make good use of this chair, aren’t we? You gonna ride my cock like a good girl? Get every inch of my cock wet?” 

You tremble in his hold. Pathetic whimpers bounce off the walls of his quarters as you dumbly nod and barely mumble a “yes” in response. You’re already so cock drunk and he hasn’t even taken it out yet.

A harsh slap to your ass shocks you from your stupor and you stumble forward into the chair as it breaks your fall. You turn back to face the rugged man and watch him slowly unbuckle his pants easing the pressure on his cock.

“Take off your clothes.” He orders as he fists his length through the black trousers.

“Aren’t you going to take your clothes off?” You ask, timidly as your eyes travel up the towering, massive man as he stands self-assured with a smug grin. 

He flashes his pearly whites like a wolf playing with its prey. “But I’m the Captain. I can’t sit in the chair without my uniform on now can I?” 

You anxiously laugh at his condescending tone and the slick that drips between your thighs. 

Chris was a stickler for rules. He was after all called the “Boy Scout”.

He makes a dismissing wave with his hand, signaling for you to move before he sat down with a sigh. Chris sinks into the chair and spreads his thighs obscenely wide. 

Hungry, power drunk eyes drag up the length of your naked body making you quiver with nervous energy. He gets off on this just as much as you do.

“Now, why don’t you climb on up and put yourself to use.” He pats his right thigh, making the dense chord of muscle bounce.

You swallow hard at the debauched image. Your silver haired Captain sitting high and mighty with his trousers unbuttoned, framing his massive cock so perfectly that you feel faint.

Silently, you say a prayer to the cosmos to make it out alive before beginning your descent.  

Your hands find purchase on his yellow donned shoulders and you kneel precariously on either side of his thighs which makes the tendons in your own scream from the stretch.

Chris smooths his hands up the sides of your hips when he notices your features wince. “I think this position will feel better.”

Swiftly, he moves one of your knees to the center of the chair and with a strong arm forces your cunt down onto this leg. You yelp in surprise but it’s cut off with a moan as he easily moves your hips back and forth, grinding your sticky cunt against his thigh.

“See. Told you.” Chris jabs with a raised brow and tilt of his head. “Eyes on me.” 

Your fingers dig into his shoulders as your pleasure races. Your eyes flutter open slowly and meet a crystal clear ocean that looms with a storm.

“Thatta girl.” Chris purrs. His thumbs dig into your flesh as your soaked warmth suffocates his strong thigh.

Your clit glides over the smooth material as he drags you back and forth along the tendon. Slick seeps from your cunt and stains his trousers with a shiny gloss when you feel the muscle beneath you go rigid. 

A wicked gasp tears from your lips at the sensation. He’s clenching his thigh. That smug fucker.

His eyes crinkle with teasing delight as he watches your orgasm get closer with every grind. “You’re close. I can tell. Go on, be good. Just let go.”

Your body shakes under his hold. Your cunt throbs as fast as your racing heart when the sparks begin to ignite. With a hoarse shout and toe curling bliss, you come all over his thigh.

Warmth encompasses you as Chris pulls you in for a feverish kiss. His lips smooth over yours as he deepens the affection and lightly traces his tongue along your bottom lip.

Chris shifts but keeps his lips locked on yours as he presses the blunt tip of his cock against your soddened folds.

You break the kiss with a whimper as your tight core stretches to accommodate his girth. You always struggled to take his cock in this position but he always tries to ease your discomfort with raspy praise and precision touches to your clit.

“There you go, open up for me, Sweet Girl.” Chris coos.  

Your body shudders at the intense feeling of being so full. The bulbous head nestles against your cervix making Chris hiss now that you’re finally seated on his length.

Your velvet walls swirl around him as you drag yourself along his cock, rising and falling in a slow, steady motion until your nerves beg for another orgasm.

Chris senses the change. He unlocks his arms from around your waist and leans back in the chair. He’s almost tempted to put his hands behind his head and really enjoy himself.

“Go on. Bounce for your Captain.” He commands with bright, feral eyes. 

Sweat beads his brow when your cunt locks around his length and milks him as your hips rise up only to drive back down with a hearty thwack.

His eyes travel your body and over your curves before landing on your cunt. It’s puffy, dripping gooey slick, and spread so wide by his cock. A thick ring of cream gathers at the base and soaks his auburn curls.

He relishes your heated cries and soft mewls as you fuck yourself on his cock. 

“You’re drippin’ down my balls, Sweet Girl. Makin’ such a mess.” He murmurs into your chest. He laves at your skin and suckles harshly on your pert nips eliciting painful, angelic melodies from your lips.

“Maybe I should call Spock to come over. Show him how filthy my girl can be.” He halfheartedly threatens but grins when you clench and a copious amount of arousal floods his cock.

Your heart jumps into your throat at the idea of Spock watching you like this. You’d always had a bit of a crush on the Vulcan after working with him for years. Chris got you to admit it after a bottle of wine one night and from then on used it to fuel your flames whenever he could.

He roughly grasps your hips and fucks up into your soaked heat, forcing his fat cock deeper. His leaky crown grazes your cervix with cruel kisses and forces you to the blissful edge before you could stop him.

Your nails scratch his covered shoulders as you tumble down the peak and scream out your release coating his girth in a glistening sheen of slick.

Chris chases his pleasure after watching you unfurl, bucking against your hips with his powerful thighs. His sack tightens and he adds to the sticky, gluey mess with a feral growl holding you close to his chest overcome with the need to possess.

Chris’s chest rumbles with satisfaction as he feels your body tremble from the intense aftershocks. You stay curled together until your heartbeats slow to a steady rhythm and sleep tugs at your senses.

“Was that everything you were hoping for?” He asks softly while smoothing a warm hand along your spine.

You purr in response and clench your worn cunt for added measure making him groan. 

He stands suddenly, catching you off guard and you scramble to wrap your arms securely around his shoulders.

“Well, that was round one,” He walks effortlessly with you in his hold towards the showers. “We gotta get clean so we can get dirty again.”

Follow my side blog @ozzieslibrary​ for fic updates!

[tropes-and-tales]

Teddy Bear

Day 23 - Proposal || Nerves, candles, and a tasty meal.   (Santiago Garcia x F!Reader)

(For the 2021 December Challenge.  The event masterlist is here.)  

CW:  Mention of infidelity.  Pure fluff.

Word Count:  1642

AN:  Late and unedited.  There seems to be an implication of Frankie-related jealousy in this request, so that was intentional.

Requested by: the celestial @captain-christopher-pike​

Santiago Garcia has been in some shit.  Vicious fire-fights, secret missions that are redacted on official military paperwork.  He has done private contractor work in South America, and he barely makes it out of Colombia unscathed.

Nothing frightens him like the prospect of proposing to you.

Logically, he knows you’ll say yes.  There’s no reason you wouldn’t.  The two of you have lived together for a year now, and dated for a year beyond that.  You saw him through the Colombian disaster that saw Tom killed; you’ve been his most stalwart support.

You’re also Frankie’s ex-girlfriend.

That is ancient history, honestly.  You and Frankie dated all the way back when the guys were in basic training, and you were in college.  You’d met all of the guys at a bar near base, and you and Frankie had been instantly attracted to each other.  Santi had his own conquest in his sights that night, and he had barely registered you, truth be told.

As the months passed with you and Frankie, Santi couldn’t help but notice you.  Who didn’t?  Even the Miller brothers nursed innocent crushes on you.  Their crushes on you faded off pretty quickly until you were like a sister to them.  Santi’s crush on you never faded at all.  It just lay dormant.

Frankie is something of a cipher:  he presents as a sweet guy, a nice guy.  It’s the puppy-dog brown eyes, the soft curls. The plush lips that can pout or smile winningly.  But Santiago knows that Frankie, more than any of them, has a dark side.  His hand never hesitates to shoot to kill.  His conscious lays easier than theirs with the things they’ve done in the name of the United States government.  

You and Frankie broke up when he cheated on you.  It was years and years ago, and you disappear from their lives until you turn up again.  You work for the V.A., and when Santiago sees you again after all that time, the dormant crush he’s held for you blooms to life.

-----

The only bump in your relationship with Santi is your past with Frankie.  You and Santi keep it quiet for a long, long while, but there’s a moment where a picture of the two of you turns up on social media.  It creates a minor scandal amongst the guys.

This is all before Colombia, and the group is evenly split.  Frankie obviously is pissed, even though he is married with a baby.  Even though he was the one to cheat on you during a drunken night off base.  Tom takes Frankie’s side and cites some bullshit rule about hitting up another guy’s ex.  Which pisses Santiago off, as if what he has with you is just physical.

The Miller boys are on his side though.  They still love you like a sister, and they had come down hard on Frankie when he had been unfaithful.  They make some brotherly threats to Santi, promise to kill him and hide the body if he hurts you, but they give their blessings.

-----

The two of you take things slow.  Once the drama of coming out to Frankie is passed, it goes so easily.  What’s the worst issue between you otherwise?  You have some trust issues thanks to Frankie.  Santiago has his PTSD.  When you move in together, you bicker over paint colors.  When you adopt a dog, you bicker over names.

On the balance, it’s wonderful.  Fighting over paint colors and dog names?  That’s nothing at all, and the good is so much better:  all the meals cooked together, the classic Mustang you work on fixing up together.  The evenings in, the evenings out.  Camping together, hiking with the dog.  All the places you make love in your shared home.  The way you hold him when he wakes up gasping and sweating from a nightmare.  The way he holds you when you’re having a blue day.

Colombia convinces him to propose.  Seeing Tom get killed in front of him, nearly losing his own life…Santiago gets off of his ass and finally sees things with clarity.  You’re his person, and he should have made it official a long time ago.

The best time to propose to you was a year ago.  The second best time is now.

-----

It’s easy to plan the scene.  Santi knows your favorite thing is camping:  the crackling fire, the spread of stars across the sky.  Making love in the quiet of a tent or cabin.

He rents a cabin in a state park about an hour away.  He frames it as a long weekend away, since you’ve both been busy with work, and you buy the gentle lie easily.

Still, you arch a curious eyebrow at all the stuff he packs into the back of his trunk.  You open one of the boxes and your eyebrows drift higher.

“Why do we need all these candles, Pope?”

He grins, and he reaches past you to slap the lid shut playfully.  “Mind your business, cariño.  All in good time.”

You return his grin with your own, a teasing slant to your lips that make him want to kiss you.  “Is this a sensual weekend?  Should I pack some saucy sleepwear?”

He does reach out and tug you to him, kisses that smiling mouth of yours.  “Don’t bother,” he tells you, dropping his voice low.  “Prefer you naked.”

You laugh at that, and then you finish loading up the truck, and then you’re on your way.

-----

The trickiest part proves to be getting you the hell out of his hair for a while.  You stick to his side like a burr, and Santi is already nervous.  The ring is tucked away in the food cooler, and he can’t exactly unpack it and start dinner with you standing by him….

“Why don’t you go walk Jonesy?” he asks.  “Let me get everything prepped.  I got a nice dinner planned for us.”

“Don’t you want help?”

Normally, he’d say yes.  Normally, you would help him—the two of you always cook together, so it probably seems out of character to send you off.

“I’ve got it.  Go walk the dog, sweetheart.”

You brush a kiss on his cheek, and he waits until you’re out of the cabin to unpack everything.  He’s got a plan:  he’s sketched it out as detailed as any Special Ops mission, and he’s going to make it perfect for you.

-----

It’s as perfect as it can possibly be:  dinner together in front of a fire.  Santi grills up some nice steaks with grilled vegetables, and he breaks open a bottle of expensive whiskey afterwards.  

The cabin is warm.  There’s the fire in the fireplace, obviously, but he’s also lit candles all over the place.  Halfway through your glass of whiskey, you shed your flannel shirt and sit cross-legged in your jeans and camisole.  He can’t resist his usual position when you’re sitting like this:  he crawls over to you and lays his head in your lap.  You shift the whiskey glass into your other hand, and you finger-comb his hair in that way he loves until he’s practically purring against you.

“You’re just a big ol’ teddy bear,” you laugh as you run your fingers against his scalp.  

“Were you the type of girl who had stuffed animals growing up?” he asks drowsily, and you laugh again.

“Not really.  I had an American Girl doll.  The Swedish immigrant one, but I wasn’t really allowed to play with her because she was so expensive.”

Santi grumbles in sympathy, and you shift your hand to cup his cheek with your palm.  You peer down at him in your lap.  “You’re my only teddy bear,” you say with a soft smile.

Santiago has a whole spiel planned out.  It’s part of the mission:  serve you dessert, then get down onto one knee.  He has a list in his head of all the reasons why he loves you, and he wants to tell them to you as he presents you with the ring.  It’s an estate ring, a one-of-a-kind vintage thing that he is certain you’ll love.

But the rest of the mission goes right out of the window.  The plan fails here.  He’s curled up with his head in your lap, your slender fingers stroking his head.  And you’re smiling down at him like he’s the best thing to ever happen to you.  Santiago Garcia is powerless to stop his mouth.

“Marry me,” he blurts out.

It’s not even a question.  It’s a command, and your smile fails a little.  Your eyes narrow, as if you’re trying to guess at his intent.

“Are you kidding?” you ask.

He raises his head and sits up.  He kneels in front of you on both knees, but the effect is lost because you’re sitting on the floor too.  “I’m serious, cariño.”

Before you can reply, he clambers to his feet, strides over to the kitchenette where the ring is hidden and waiting.  He takes it and makes his way back to you, and with shaky fingers he fumbles open the velvet box.

“I’m serious,” he repeats, his voice almost a whisper.  “You’re my person, cariño.  Colombia convinced me to get my ass in gear.  I’ve loved you for so long, and I want—”

He doesn’t get the rest out.  Instead, you’re on him, your mouth on his.  You stop his words with a fierce kiss, and it’s clear what your answer is.

Still, you break away a long moment later and make sure your answer is clear.

“Yes,” you tell him.

“Yeah?”  He grins at you, feels tears film his eyes.  

“Absolutely.”  You cup his face in your hands again, and you kiss him again, and this time it’s gentler but still holds all the love you have for him.

~~~Tag List~~~ @bananas-pajamas  @massivecolorspygiant​   @imspillingcoffee​   @amneris21​   @paintballkid711​   @mad-girl-without-a-box​   @bestattempt​   @rosiefridayrogersunday​   @strawberrydragon​   @hoeforthefictional​   @greeneyedblondie44​  @leannawithacapitala​   @stardust-galaxies​  @isvvc-pvscvl​   @frankie-catfish-morales​    @janesofia7​

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Lonely

Pairing: Christopher Pike x Reader x Una Chin-Riley

Rating: Explicit - 18+ only (Minors interacting with the work will be blocked)

Length: 4.3K

Notes: This is just smut. Smut that has not been beta-read. There’s no use of Y/N or of Reader’s physical descriptions.

I didn’t tag my usual general list because I know not everyone is into Christopher Pike, so if you weren’t tagged and wanted to be, sorry!

Warnings: Cursing; fluff; Explicit sexual content - masturbation, oral sex, sixty-nine, spitting, scissoring, piv, unprotected sex, pegging, facesitting

Summary: For a moment, you just hang back. Christopher and Una are beautiful together. They move together with an ease that belies their familiarity.  

Your day off has been meandering and slow. You’ve taken care of the odd errand and chore that you’ve been meaning to get around to. You have time to take Chapel and Ortegas’ respective breaks with them, catching flack for wearing some of your comfiest civvies—sweatpants and a t-shirt. When you have nothing else to do, you make your way to private quarters. You know her code as well as you know your own—you know his, too.

You kick your shoes off by the door before venturing more deeply inside. The quarters are bigger than your own. There’s a small sitting room situated across from the bedroom, and a range of comfortable seating. You trail our fingers over the back of the armchair on your way over to the bed.

Crawling into it with a sigh, you settle on your back and peer up at the ceiling. You’ve got at least another half-hour before they finish their shift, maybe a little more. You close your eyes, allowing yourself to relax, reveling in the lingering scent of the both of them on the neatly made bed.

You thought this would stop after shore leave—it should’ve stopped after shore leave. But once active duty had resumed, you found yourself drawn by into their arms, and back into their bed. 

You smile, remembering that first night. You can practically see it dancing behind your eyelids now—their intrigued smiles and their shared glance when you’d propositioned them. It had been a nerve-wracking leap of faith. But you’d been tired of telling yourself that the innuendo-laced conversations and lingering gazes were nothing more than friendly. 

You shift back against the sheets, restless as you think about that night—the way your hesitance had melted with their calm hands, hot kisses and encouraging words. Even now, remembering their wandering touch makes you shiver. You glance at the PADD propped up on the bedside table and reach out. You groan as you eye the time, whacking your head back against the pillows.  You’re bored, you’re lonely...You’re a little horny...

You can wait. You will wait for them. When they’re off-shift, you’ll have dinner together, and then you’ll jump their bones the way you’ve been thinking about all day. You can wait.

You close your eyes again, throwing your arm over your eyes and drawing in a deep breath through your nose. But you make the mistake of thinking about them still, about her occasional penchant for harsher behavior, and his tendency to murmur praise, or tease. They can each turn on a dime—she can cradle you like a tender, sweet little thing; he can pry your thighs apart, pin your hips in a way that you both know will bruise.

You turn your head into the pillow, squeezing your thighs together and rocking your hips a little. It’s not enough, but you don’t touch yourself. Your nipples harden, creating a tantalizing brushing feeling against the cups of your bra. Your mouth falls open in a soft, sighing moan.

You go still and quiet as you hear the door swish open, then closed. Your eyes open, and you push yourself to sit up a little. You smile as Una approaches the bed, releasing her hair from the ponytail it’s likely been in all day. She stops when she sees you, brow arching as her lips pull into a smile.

“Well, this is a surprise.”

You prickle with embarrassment, pushing yourself up fully.

“I know we said we’d meet for dinner. Figured I’d, you know...Save us getting together some time.”

“Expedient,” Una chuckles. You reach out for her with grabbing hands, and smile as she toes her shoes off beside the bed before joining you. She gives your shoulder a gentle push, and you lay down. Una settles between your legs, sliding her hands up along your thighs. You sigh at the feeling of her resting atop you, her cheek pressed to your belly. You raise your hands, combing your fingers gently through her hair, untangling the odd knot.

“How’s your day off been?” Una murmurs.

“Oh—Fine, I guess. How was the bridge?”

“The scan of Misellus II was successful,” She sighs. “You would’ve enjoyed it.”

“I’m sure I would’ve.” You’re quiet for a moment, eyes fixed on the ceiling. “I missed you both today.” 

The admission makes you feel nervous and a bit childish. You’re not some lovesick teenager. But Una’s always made you far more nervous than Christopher has. You wouldn’t worry about admitting this feeling to Christopher. Una’s a different story.

But now, she pushes herself up to get a better look at you. Your arms slide to the side, hands settling lightly around her forearms. You bite your lip just a little, wary to meet her eyes. She watches you for a long moment; you don’t know what she’s looking for, and you don’t know if she finds it. You think she must, though, because she just presses a touch closer, and murmurs, “We missed you, too.”

Your eyes flicker to hers, and you find a warm, soft smile on her lips. Your stomach flutters at the expression, and you smile in return. Your eyes track Una’s lips as she leans in, and slide closed as she presses her lips to yours. You raise your hands, cupping her cheeks as you share tender kisses. Una hums softly into the kiss. She shifts slightly between your legs, and you shiver, pressing your hips up against hers.

Una lets out an interested sound that makes you go warm.

“Someone’s eager,” She teases between kisses.

“I missed you,” You reiterate weakly. “When’s Chris off-shift?”

“He has reports to approve.”

You whimper, kicking your feet petulantly. Una shushes you, sliding one of her hands up your side to grope and squeeze your breast through your shirt. You arch your back, pressing up into her hand as your hips push against her.

“Una,” You plead softly. She leans away, tutting, and reaches down, slipping her hand under the band of your sweatpants. She lets out a chuckle as she skims her fingers over your mound, feeling the warm, sticky wetness that you’d welled in your time alone.

“Feels like you had quite a productive day off.”

You shake your head hurriedly, blinking up at her. “I was just waiting for you.”

“And?”

“Thinking about you...And Chris,” You admit.

“Just thinking?”

“Yes.”

Una hums, fingers smoothing over your plumped, wet lips.

“What were you thinking about?”

“Our first night together.”

Una nods, urging you on. You lick your lips, tipping your hips down into her hand.

“I was thinking about you and Chris, and—And the way we...Well, you know.”

“Spell it out for me, baby.”

You groan, closing your eyes.

“I was thinking about how you—How you let me touch you. How wet your pussy was, and how good you taste.”

Una hums encouragingly, teasing her fingertip over your clit.

“And how Christopher—how he fucked me while I ate your pussy,” You add. You want to damn the quiet, breathless way you’re speaking—but Una’s attention always makes you more hesitant. You don’t think she means for that to happen. You just can’t help it.

“Christopher was fucking me so deep, and he—” You suck in a harsh breath as Una eases her middle finger into your tight, slick hole. “He kept saying the filthiest th-things.”

“Like what?”

“Like...Like—like how well I took his cock, and that he was going to cum in me—and how you were going to lick it out.”

“And I did, didn’t I.”

“Mhm.”

“And you liked it?”

“Yes,” You whimper as a second and third finger sink into you alongside the first.

“You looked so beautiful, coming apart for us,” She murmurs, “And you tasted so sweet, squirming against my tongue.”

You gasp softly, grinding your hips more harshly against her fingers. You reach up, tugging at the collar of her uniform shirt.

“Off—Una, please.”

“If I do, I’ll have to stop,” She reminds you, giving a pointed thrust of her fingers.

“I don’t care,” You whine. “I need to touch you. I wanna taste you. Please?”

Una shushes your desperate pleas, gently easing her fingers out of you and your sweatpants to undress. You scramble to sit up, too, desperately trying to ignore the sticky throbbing between your legs as you tug off your shirt, bra, and sweatpants as quickly as you can. Una just smiles at your impatience, standing and undressing at a leisurely pace.

You crawl to the edge of the bed on all fours, laying kisses to the tops of her breasts as she undoes her bra. You wind your arms around her middle, sucking one of her breasts into your mouth. She groans softly, running her hand over your hair as you suck and tease her nipple. You turn your head, sucking a mark between her breasts before turning your head a touch more and lapping at the other nipple. You slide a hand between her legs, moaning when you feel the growing wetness between her thighs.

You slide down on the bed, nuzzling at the apex of her thighs before you tease your tongue out. You can barely get a proper taste of her—but she’s just out of reach. You whimper, sliding your hand between her thighs and trying to coax her to spread them wider. 

“Lay back,” Una urges gently. You scramble to do as she says, pushing yourself back onto the bed and laying down. Una seems amused by your urgency, and takes her time getting onto the bed with you. She carefully throws her legs over either side of your face. She gives a little wiggle, laughing as you groan and curl your arms around her hips. She lowers herself down over you, leaning forward and running her hand gently over your breast.

You lean up, straining your neck just a touch before Una fully lowers herself over you. You open your mouth, lapping across her plumped, flushing pussy. You moan at the taste of her—the tangy, salty sweetness. You tip your head from side to side, laving her pussy with licks and lingering sucks. Una grinds down against your ministrations as she presses kisses to your belly. She smooths her fingers over your inner thighs, pushing them wider. You spread them obediently, lapping broadly and warmly along her lips.

You shiver as Una blows coolly over your aching cunt. You press your fingers into her thighs a touch, trying to entice her to return your attentions in kind. Una curls over you, and you feel her hair brush enticingly over your thigh before you feel something hot and slick sliding between your lips. You shiver at the feeling over Una sliding her fingers over your pussy, spreading her spit and mixing it with your juices. You push your hips up into her touch, silently begging for more. You suck her clit between your lips, lashing it with your tongue. You feel Una’s muscles go tense, and hear her moan. You fight away a grin, more focused on pulling more sounds from her.

But Una draws away from you before you can. You pout up at her, swiping your tongue across your lips and taking in the lingering taste of her. Una doesn’t get far—she kneels between your legs, lifting one of them to rest against her shoulder. You let your head fall back against the pillow, eyelids fluttering as she slots your bodies together. You moan softly at the feeling of the wet, hot slide of her cunt against yours.

Una turns her head, pressing a kiss to your ankle before she wraps her arm around your leg, steadying you. You let your eyes wander her covetously, taking in the way her breasts move as she grinds against you. You’re so caught up in the feeling of her, in her lustful gaze and your joint gentle moans and sighs, that you miss the sound of the door sliding open.

“Looks like the party’s started without me.” 

You blink up at Christopher hazily, smiling when you find him watching at the two of you, palming his hardening cock in his pants. You reach out to him with the same grabby motion that you’d made at Una, and she laughs softly.

“Someone was lonely,” Una tells him as he gets onto the bed beside you.

“Oh yeah?” Christopher asks. He pecks her lips before he settles down beside you. His eyes search your face, a warm, attentive look on his face as he strokes your cheek. “We missed you, too, sweetheart.”

You tip your chin up, nose brushing his. Christopher obligingly lowers his head, brushing his lips against yours. His tongue flickers out, giving a teasing lick along the seam of your mouth. He must taste Una on your lips, because he lets out a lustful groan and dips his head, deepening your kiss. You open to him, teasing your tongue along his. You whimper against him as Una’s hips shove more harshly against yours.

You reach up, tugging at the hem of Christopher’s shirt. He straightens obligingly, pulling off his shirt. You watch him, raising your hand and running your nails along his pecs and down his abs. You stop at his waistband, licking your lips at where his cock has filled out in his pants.

"Touch him,” Una orders breathlessly. You blink widely up at Christopher, sliding your hand down over the waistband and giving his cock a squeeze through his pants. He lets out a soft groan, reaching down and giving your breast a squeeze. Your fingers fumble a touch in undoing his pants, your focus split between the grind of Una’s cunt and the prospect of getting to Christopher’s cock.

“You want him?” Una asks. “You want him to fuck you?”

You nod hurriedly, looking up at Una. Christopher gets off of the bed to properly undo and push off his pants. You groan softly as Una draws away, smiling as she gives your calf a quick kiss before she climbs off of the bed in turn. You watch her walk over to the bedside table, but you’re distracted when Christopher gets back onto the bed, settling between your legs.

“Hi there,” He murmurs teasingly. You grin, sliding your arms over his thick biceps.

“How was your day?”

“It’s getting better.” 

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

Christopher grinds his cock against your sopping cunt. You shiver, nails digging into his muscles just a touch.

“You tell me.” He lowers his head, nipping your lip gently. You sigh, running your fingers through his neatly coiffed hair. You watch him lean back, smiling he catches the bottle of lube Una throws at him. You hold still, practically vibrating with need as Christopher flicks open the cap on the bottle. He pours some into his hand, slicking up his cock and working himself over a couple of times. You reach up, palming his chest, settling your hand over his thudding heart. He steadies his hand on your inner thigh, using the other hand to tease his cockhead along your slit.

He meets your eyes, looking for any hint of hesitation. You nod, pressing your hips down against him as you murmur, “C’mon.”

The head of his cock sinks in just a little, and you whine, cunt fluttering around him. He begins to press in a little more, a low, long grunt pushing out of his throat at the feeling of your pussy gripping him.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” Una warns from beside the bed. The two of you turn your heads. You grin, and Christopher groans at the sight of Una stepping into the harness of her strap on. 

“Where’s the lube?” She asks. Your fingers scrabble for it on the bed, finding it and holding it up.

“Such a little helper,” Christopher teases.

“Shut up,” You laugh. He leans down, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. The two of you sink into the feeling of one another, trading tender, hot kisses. You know the second Una eases a finger into him. Christopher goes just a little tense. You reach up, curling your arms around his shoulders and sliding your hand up into his hair.

Your pussy throbs around his cock as it twitches inside you. Christopher hunkers down over you, chest pressing to yours as you make out lazily. You love kissing Christopher. You love kissing Una, too, but it’s different with Chris. It always feels so luxurious and tender. Christopher kisses you like he’s never done it before—like he's trying to memorize every slope, curve and line of your lips; like he's trying to savor every lick, nip, peck, and suck to memory.

He leans into you more and more as Una opens him up. You settle back with a gentle suck of his lip, smiling at the way Christopher's eyes are closed. You watch as he shudders, loosing a slack-jawed, whining moan.

"How's he doing up there?" Una asks.

"I think his brain's melted," You giggle. Christopher's lips pull into a small smile, and he huffs out a shaky laugh. "How's he doing back there?"

"Someone's getting a sharp tongue," Una teases, watching you over his shoulder. You sink back into the bed, embarrassment swirling in your stomach.

"Una, be nice," Christopher urges, lowering his head and pressing tender kisses to your neck. You smile, tipping your head to the side to offer him more room. You peer up at Una, licking your lips as she rests her hands on his hips. She begins to thrust lightly, giving the three of you a moment to adjust to the rocking motion.

You bracket Christopher’s hips with your knees, giving him a gentle, spurring squeeze. Christopher pushes himself up over you, biceps twitching as he begins to fuck into you in earnest. You groan at the increased pace, shivering. Your eyes dart between Una and Christopher’s faces, unsure of where to settle, not wanting to miss a single lip-bite, or moan, or wicked grin.

You can’t help but smile wickedly yourself as you watch Una weave her fingers in Christopher’s hair and yank his head back. His groan is guttural and tight, his face screwing up at the tension. You reach up, tenderly running your hand over his neck, brushing through the gathering sweat in the hollow of his throat. You have to fight the urge to lean up and suck a mark in his neck. You know that if you do, he won’t be able to cover it up.

You like the idea of that, though—a bright red, blooming hickey on Christopher’s throat as he sits in the Captain’s chair, metes out orders to the bridge crew, silently daring them to question the mark. You imagine the stunned little faces, and the knowing looks between yourself, Christopher, and Una. 

But this information, this relationship, is the sort shared on a need-to-know basis, and you’re the only ones that need to know. You’re mostly alright with that. There are moments when you want to crowd up against Christopher, when some envoy or fellow crew member flirts with him. You usually catch Una’s eyes in those moments, and she simply gives you a small smile, and a short nod. She knows. You both know. You don’t ask if it drives her as nuts the way it does you, but you’re almost certain that you’ll never bring yourself to be able to ask.

You choke out a shaky whine as Christopher’s cockhead brushes that spot inside you that makes your toes curl. You shiver, a stunned moan rattled out of you as he brushes it again and again.

“Fuck—fuck, fuck fuck, Christopher!” You gasp, hips pushing up against him. He carefully twists his head out of the hold Una has on his hair, bowing over you to kiss and suck your breasts. You urge him on, sliding your hand around the back of his neck and keeping him close. You reach up, drawing Una down, closer to you. The movement pushes her dildo even deeper into Christopher, which pushes his hips even further into you. You shake at the sensation, straining up to catch Una’s lips in a desperate kiss. Your tongue poke out to slide and lap at each other, just a touch too far to kiss properly. Una smiles widely, watching you fall apart beneath Christopher. 

Your hips are still bounding, your orgasm is still rolling through you, and you can feel him tensing, too. His thighs and arms are shaking slightly as he fights to hold himself over you.

“Look at you two,” Una murmurs, lips brushing against Christopher’s shoulder. “So needy and tense.”

“Una,” Christopher warns softly.

“What would people say, hm?” Una eggs him on. “It takes so little for you two to fall apart.”

Christopher groans, lowering his head and pressing his face into your neck. You thread your fingers through his hair, eyes sliding closed as his hips hammer against yours. You gasp softly as you feel Christopher spill into you. He lets out an open-mouthed moan, panting wetly against your neck. You sag back against the bed a bit, swallowing thickly as Christopher’s hips twitch a touch more.

You glance down as he whacks lightly at Una’s hip, chuckling at his anguished groan as she carefully withdraws the strap on. Christopher draws out of you in turn, leaning back to get a good look at your face and your still-throbbing cunt. You nod reassuringly, reaching up and patting his cheek. Christopher plops onto the bed beside you, leaning down to give you a kiss before lifting his head to look at Una.

“Get over here,” He orders warmly. You push your aching body up, scooching down the bed and reaching out, gently helping Una undo the straps on her harness. She steps out of it, leaning in and kissing you before climbing onto the bed with Christopher. You smile as she straddles his shoulders, lowering herself over him as she had over you before. But now, she curls her fingers around the headboard, peering down at Christopher.

For a moment, you just hang back. The two of them are beautiful together. They move together with an ease that belies their familiarity. You can see Christopher’s tongue flashing between Una’s long legs, sweeping across her lips as his fingers sink into the plump flesh of her ass. Una sighs, tipping her head at the sensation, her hair cascading down her back.

You think that this interaction, this ease, would be unaltered without you there. Their dynamic was around before you, and will likely continue whenever they move on from you. That thought makes your stomach twist in dismay. Whenever this does end, however it ends, you’ll miss them.

Before you can sink too deeply into the thought, Una twists her head, catching your eye. Your eyes wander the blush rising in her cheeks, and the hunger in her gorgeous eyes. And then she holds out her hand. You crawl toward her, leaning back against the headboard and peering adoringly up at her as she rolls her pussy against Christopher’s lips. You smile as she leans in for a kiss. She’s breathless, grunting softly as your lips brush and press with each of the rolls of her lips. 

You smile as you feel one of Christopher’s hands reach out to gently squeeze your thigh. You slide your hand down, smoothing it over his likely aching scalp. You dip your head, catching one of Una’s nipples in your mouth, raising your hand and brushing your thumb over the other nipple. Una shivers, hips rolling more sharply against Christopher’s lips, chin, and nose.

You know that she’s close as she draws in a shivering breath, sliding her hand along your jaw. You lean up for another kiss, grinning as she stutters a moan into your mouth. You can feel her rutting harshly against Christopher; you can hear Christopher humming and smacking his lips, pleased.

Una shudders, leaning back off of Christopher’s face and rolling to the side. Her eyes close, breasts heaving as she catches her breath. You look down as Christopher wriggles between you, resting his head on your thigh. You reach down, smoothing your fingers over his forehead, taking in the shine on the lower half of his face. He opens his eyes, pursing his lips in an air kiss before glancing between you and Una.

“What do we want for dinner?” He asks.

“Let us catch our breath, Chris,” Una chides.

“Alright,” He sighs, rolling over onto his side and curling up against your thigh. “Computer, lights at 50%.” The lights lower around the room, pushing it into a comforting dimness. You watch Una slide off of the bed, taking up the strap-on and bottle of lube from the bed and heading toward the bathroom. You look back down at Christopher and he presses a kiss to your thigh.

“What’d you get up to today?” He murmurs. “Big day off.”

“Not much.”

“You relax at all?”

“A little.”

“She was relaxing when I got here,” Una comments. Christopher raises a brow at the tone, a teasing smile forming on his lips.

“Oh, was she?”

“It wasn’t like that,” You mumble, pushing gently at his forehead. Christopher just laughs, turning his head and setting it down again. You glance over at Una as she slides onto the bed, sitting against the headboard beside you.

“How do you feel now?” She asks, curling her arm around your middle. “Less lonely?”

You let your head loll to the side, grinning at the sight of her knowing smile. 

“A little less,” You agree.

“A little?” Christopher repeats with a grumble, pushing himself up and pushing your thighs apart. “Guess we’ll have to fix that.”

“It’s fixed!” You giggle, pushing at his head. “It’s fixed, I swear!”

The three of you share a laugh as Christopher presses back against the headboard on the other side of you, sliding his arm around you, resting just beneath Una’s. You close your eyes, sinking into the feeling of them on either side of you, cuddled and comforted.

Tag list: @wretchedwisteria​​ ; @brandyllyn​​ ;  @wildmoonflower​ ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink​ ; @mad-girl-without-a-box​ ; @moonlightburned​ ;  @amneris21​ ;  @kindnonny23 (tried to tag and tumblr wouldn’t let me)

[captainjimsexypantskirk]

REQUEST:How You Fell

Pairing: ReaderxKirk

Rating: Teen?

Characters: Jim Kirk, Reader, Bones, Mentions of Sulu and Uhura

Summary: REQUEST can you do a fanfic of kirk x reader where they work together but haven’t admitted they like each-other and how kirk admits it? Or how they meet?

Warnings: UNEDITED MESS, Bad language,

Tags: @yourtropegirl @fridgebiscuit @mishaissocoollike (I DON’T KNOW WHO WANTED TO BE TAGGED IN WHAT I AM SO SORRY IF I MESSED UP GUYS)

Author’s note: This request is months old, so let’s hope that I did okay. By the way, this is crap in my opinion. But I am trying to get things flowing again.

The day that you met Jim Kirk, one of your best friends and the future Captain of the enterprise, was quite embarrassing. You were both in the same class, him much further than you of course. He started a year after you; but you didn’t know this till after you met. When you met, you were at one of your lowest moments. Your ethics professor and you didn’t see eye to eye, matter of fact you were sure he hated you from the very beginning. That day you had discovered that your masterpiece of a midterm paper had been given a failing grade. This paper you worked for days on, the paper that had been revised by some of the greatest professors the Academy had ever seen, received and F! You were fuming, you were livid, you were ready to murder the man that was currently standing across from you.

“Sir, may I ask for a further explanation regarding my grade?” You asked the man. You tried your hardest to be polite and kind, but your voice was like poison. The man across the desk scoffed and looked at you with a disgusted glare.

“You failed. You are not cut out for my class it seems. At this rate, you may have to retake the whole class next semester” He said and then closed his brief case before crossing his arms and glaring at you again. You took in a breath. How dare he say that. You worked your ass off on that paper, that paper was praised by other professors. Your hands balled into fists at your sides and you suddenly snapped.

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!” You exclaimed and the male stepped back.

“Ma’am if you do not calm down, I will have to write you up” He said, his voice filled with anger.

“Go ahead and write me up you fucking prick! I would love to fight you in front of the leaders of the academy! You piece of-“And that is when Mr. Perfect hair came running in, Leonard McCoy following him.

“Whoa whoa whoa, what is going on in here? Miss? Sir?” He asked and you handed the paper over to Jim, not bothering to look at him. He read it over and then looked at you and Bones, handing it back to Bones. “Miss, I suggest if this man is unable to see eye to eye with you, that you take it to the dean. I’m sure if he really thinks your paper is that bad, he can defend it to the dean. But don’t get written up.” He said and you looked at him suddenly. The teacher took in a breath this time and he snatched the paper.

“I will review this…” He said and then scrambled out of the room. You stared in disbelief. You had been fighting with the asshole of a man for a solid month, then this guy came in and suddenly your problem went away.

“The name is Jim Kirk. This is Bones.” The man with bright blue eyes and perfect hair said, taking your hand. You looked at him and the other man rolled his eyes.

“Leonard McCoy, not Bones. Only he gets away with that.” Bones said and you chuckled.

“Y/F/N Y/L/N, thanks by the way. Sorry I was so… rude” You said with a soft smile and Kirk chuckled.

“Don’t worry, he didn’t like me much either” He responded with a charming smirk. That was the beginning of a lifelong friendship that you didn’t know was possible.

Years had flown by. You were there when Jim was called up for allegedly cheating on the Kobayashi Maru. You were not surprised by the behavior. He was always doing things that held up his reputation for being a smart-ass. You were there when Jim saved the Enterprise for the first time. You were so proud of him. He was becoming a fine man, and an even better Captain. The first thing he did was made sure that your job as head nurse was secured permanently. He said that it was because he needed the best of the best on the Enterprise; you knew it was because he needed his two best friends with him in space.

You were also there when Christopher Pike was killed. Jim didn’t let many in to comfort him. He didn’t let Bones in, but he let you in. He cried against your shoulder. It was the most heartbreaking thing you ever experienced. Jim was so strong, and had so much control at times; to see, feel and hear him break down against you tugged at your heart strings. But it was nothing compared to what came after. You happily accepted staying on the ship as he went after Kahn. You helped Spock and Bones transfer the cryotubes out of the missiles as Jim worked on saving the lives of his crew. Then he came back to medical in a body bag. You couldn’t hold it in. As Bones worked on a serum from Kahn’s blood to bring Jim back, you wept at Jim’s side. That is when you knew he was more than a friend. He was you smart- assed, brilliant, charming, and stubborn love. But you would never tell him. When Bones brought him back, you felt relieved, but you knew the adventure was never fully over.

You were by his side as he led the Enterprise into deep space. You watched his excitement and wonder turn into boredom. No, not boredom, but he was wondering aimlessly through the stars. He needed something to spark his love for the voyage again; but you didn’t anticipate the events that took place. You barely made it out of the ship. You didn’t know if Jim did, hell you didn’t know if any of your friends did. You watched Nyota and Hikaru work so hard to get help; and you started to feel lost too. What if Jim wasn’t there? What if the crew was really lost on Altamid? You heart sank, your hope was starting to become lost. Then the beautiful man came riding to the crew’s rescue. Then he was the Captain of a lost ship. Then he was riding waves of enemy ships that were on fire. You felt excited, and scared. You were there, watching with Nyota as he was almost sucked out into space. Thank the maker for doctor that was piloting that enemy ship. That year, his birthday was a relief. He was there, smiling, the spark in his eyes had come back. Although he had lost of the crew, you had your Jim back, and it brought you into an odd time.

As the new ship was being built, the crew was put to work on random assignments. Jim was working with the leaders of York Town, while you and Bones were busy teaching some of the students on the medical track. Bones enjoyed teaching, and he enjoyed making you be his assistant. You could care less, but you knew that at least with you and Bones teaching; not a single student would get an unfair grade like you had.

The whole time, you were hiding your feelings, oblivious that Jim was starting to catch on. It was the little things that were starting to give it away. Like the fact that whenever he was at your apartment, you insisted on taking care of him. Or when you two were alone, you would touch his shoulder and let your hand linger. Or the fact that you always blushed when he noticed something new about your appearance. He also noticed, that when he was making decisions, you were the first to bring up his safety. You were starting to voice the threat to him more than Bones. It made him happy, it made him feel at ease. He finally knew that he wasn’t alone.

When things were going to shit, his first fear was what would happen to you. When he was fighting Nero, who would make sure you made it home safe. When he was rushing to the warped core, what would you do when you found out he had died? When the bees attacked the ship near Altamid, had you made it to the surface of the planet safely? He loved you, but he thought you deserved better. He was married to his career, he didn’t know what you wanted, or what goals you had. But he thought it was better that it would be better If he kept it to himself.

You thought it was best if you kept your feelings to yourself too, but there was one person who just wasn’t having it anymore. That person was Dr. Leonard McCoy. He was so tired of you stressing yourself to unhealthy levels whenever Jim went on a mission. He was tired of having to listen to Jim talk about how wonderful, amazing, and perfect you were. He knew you were amazing, that is why he kept you as head nurse. He didn’t need to hear the love-sick Jim drone on about it every time they went out for drinks.

Then it happened. The main crew went out for drinks. The whole group was there, as well as partners. You had brought a date, and Jim puffed up when his eyes fell to the man next to you. His eye twitched and he turned to leave. Everyone knew why, but you of course. The man looked uncomfortable and Bones groaned. “Jim Kirk, get back here!” He said and Jim froze. The date looked at everyone and shuffled away. You looked shocked and Bones pointed to you.

“You” he said, his stern fatherly voice coming forward, “And you, Jim” He said, pointing to the blue-eyed man before taking a deep breath. “If you keep avoiding the fact that you are in love with each other, so help me god, I will make your deaths look like an accident. “He looked at you both and the whole crew went silent. You heard someone finish their drink, desperately trying to get the last drop through their straw, and you heard another person chuckle. You though, just stood there blinking at Jim then at Bones. “Everyone, why don’t we go play some darks or billiards? Let the love birds talk. Now I have to find another damn nurse.” He stood and everyone followed quickly. Nyota patted your back as she walked by before giggling and you just stared at Jim.

“What is Bones talking about” You whispered and Jim sat next to you slowly. You turned to look at him and Jim let out a shaky breath. He looked at you, his eyes soft.

“He knows what he is talking about when it comes to me. I just… I didn’t want to hold you back when it came to having a normal life.” He said, his voice quiet. You watched him and he smiled. “I knew there was something special about you the day we met. The way you didn’t hesitate to tell that professor off. You were so…. passionate, then I read that paper. You made ethics seem fascinating. I was happy to have you as just my friend.” He said and you took his hand gently.

“You are an idiot. A life with you is better than a normal life. And don’t you ever talk about that day again” You said with a smile, your heart beating at a speed that would make Bones freak out. Jim laughed and looked at you, his face happy and bright. He reached forward to touch your cheek. “Why don’t we give this a shot?” You asked and Jim nodded.

“I would like that” He leaned forwards and kissed your cheek gently. You leaned against him and he hugged you close. “Now, let’s get out of here before everyone starts teasing us?” You nodded with a smile and the both of you rushed out of the bar.

[ao3feed-johnharrison]

Star Trek One Shots and Imagines

by invisame

A collection of my various Star Trek stories featuring the characters from the new movies. Primarily Spock, Kirk, Bones and Scotty. Most are x reader. Enjoy.

Words: 9906, Chapters: 5/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M, Gen

Characters: James T. Kirk, Spock (Star Trek), Leonard "Bones" McCoy, Montgomery "Scotty" Scott, Hikaru Sulu, Pavel Chekov, Christopher Pike, Khan Noonien Singh | John Harrison, Carol Marcus, Alexander Marcus

Relationships: Leonard "Bones" McCoy/Reader, James T. Kirk/Reader, Montgomery "Scotty" Scott/Reader, Spock/Reader, Khan Noonien Singh/Reader

Additional Tags: One Shot Collection

read it on the AO3 at http://archiveofourown.org/works/18411998 via AO3 works tagged 'John Harrison' http://archiveofourown.org/works/18411998

Remember to check out the John Harrison fanworks community on livejournal and dreamwidth. Follow ao3feed-johnharrison for all your John Harrison needs including fanfic involving the character in any pairing, crossovers, fanart and links.

[elen-aranel]

Hold My Hand

For: @youvebeenlivingfictional Winter Writing Prompt 14, Mistletoe / Hands / Fake Dating Pairing: Captain Christopher Pike x F!Reader (no Y/N) Warnings: None! Reader has mild anxiety a couple of times WC: 6k Rating: Teen Notes: I haven't felt like I've had time for anything I want to do recently, least of all writing, but today's prompt really spoke to me, so here we are! <3 Summary: “We don’t like to make a big thing of it, but yes. We’re getting married when we get back to Earth. We’re only waiting so we can be with our families.”

The first time, you aren’t expecting it.

An alien sun is shining down on you as you sit cross legged on the ground in the Syndarch medicine garden. You breathe in a mix of something herbal and something sweet; there are insects buzzing around, trilling birdsong in the distance, and the voices of your fellow officers and your Syndarch hosts.  But all of those are background details; you’re hunched over your tricorder, scanning a tiny green cactus-like plant poking up between two paving stones which is producing a range of interesting-looking alkaloids. You are wondering whether the plant is just a weed, or if it had been cultivated in the past and has somehow managed to survive where it is, when a warm hand grasps yours and hauls you up.

“—is the lieutenant here.” Captain Pike is gazing at you with some kind of sappy, affectionate expression on his face, clearly put on, and you replay the last few seconds of conversation you overheard in your head.

You smile back. Ultra sappy.

“We don’t like to make a big thing of it, but yes. We’re getting married when we get back to Earth. We’re only waiting so we can be with our families.”

The Syndarch Chancellor studies you as Pike raises your hand, gently kissing the back of it. And… you don’t have to fake your pleased little shiver. Which is something you’ll have to worry about later. For now, you try to project that sense of togetherness that established couples you’ve known have had. Like Admiral April and his wife, Sarah.

The Chancellor shrugs, blue slitted eyes suddenly brightening up. “Perhaps, after all, a captain isn’t quite… right for my daughter. You must have to travel a lot. But others may be… more settled? If Starfleet establishes a permanent presence here?”

You glance around as the captain makes some vague reply. You see a question in Spock’s raised eyebrow, and Una is studiously ignoring you; you’d bet she’s working hard to stifle a laugh. You dread to think what they’ll say when you get back to the ship.

“Thanks for the save there, Lieutenant,” Pike says as you step off the transporter platform, falling into step with you as you go through the doors. “I would not want that chancellor as a father-in-law. I owe you— What’s your favourite meal? You’re invited to dinner tonight. You too,” he adds, turning, nodding to Spock and Una. “Good work down there.”

“You don’t owe me. I mean, I’m not stupid, I’m not going to say no to your cooking, but I don’t think I’d have gotten to talk to that botanist so quickly if our host didn’t think we were engaged.”

“I found the ease with which you dissembled noteworthy, Lieutenant,” Spock says. “I know that humans are adept at lying, but you did not hesitate when the captain said you were to be married, even though you didn’t appear to have been paying any attention to him and the chancellor.”

“I was in my high school drama club, sir. I know how to put on a performance.”

You don’t tell him that wishing it were true makes it easier.

The next time is planned.

“Jentiri culture is complex, and the Transit Ceremony has a lot of rules, one of which is that each leader that takes part must be accompanied by their consort.” Pike stares up at you from his desk, and you know you could get lost in those blue eyes, but no. Whatever happens, this isn’t real.

“Why not just use Commander Chin-Riley, Sir?”

“Number one... she said no.” He quirks a rueful smile. “Her exact words were, ’I could better serve you if I didn’t have to act as some sort of decoration.’ But don’t worry,” he adds, reading your dubious expression. “You don’t have to do anything difficult. You just have to hand over our offering, and then enjoy the spectacle. I’m told it’s quite beautiful, and few outsiders get to see it. I’ll owe you a meal?”

“In that case, it’s a yes. Not for the Transit, though.” You grin. “For the food.”

Astrophysics is not your forte, but even so you know how incredibly rare this is: an M class planet with a stable orbit that takes it between two stars.

You are on the flat top of a hill that has been cut into wide terraces, and to the left and right, on the horizon, are the suns, like sunset and sunrise. The sky fades from orange to pink to deep purple and back, but it is lit with hundreds of shooting stars and the occasional bright flare of an aurora.

There are thousands of Jentiri, mostly on the lower levels of the hill, from all six inhabited planets in their system. This planet was traditionally neutral ground between all of them, and although now they have one common hierarchy, their old traditions remain.

You have done your part, giving Starfleet’s offering – an ornate carved wooden box – to the Third King, so now you get to relax and enjoy the spectacle for a while, while the captain and first officer negotiate on Starfleet’s behalf.

“So, tell me more about Captain Pike. How did you meet? How long have you been together? What’s he like?”

Emyn, the consort of the First Queen, leader of Jentiri Prime, relaxes back on her cushion. You never thought you’d be a diplomat, but it’s impressive to see a good one at work. All the consorts, but Emyn especially have made an effort to make you feel included in the group; making sure the silky cushions were comfortable for you, offering you sweet delicacies from each of their planets, and talking, about their partners, about Jentiri, and about your experiences in Starfleet.

You can’t help but feel relaxed around them, which you know is the point. If you think of yourself as one of them, you’ll be candid.

“Captain Pike – Chris – and I met when I transferred to the Enterprise, on stardate… um… well. It was a while ago now. We got together on—on shore leave, a year or so later? It was very romantic, he cooked dinner for me in a cabin by a lake…” You smile at your made-up story; it would be lovely if it had been real. “And Chris is…” you smile, relaxed. You can be completely honest here. “He’s genuine. He’s principled. He isn’t naive – you don’t get to be a captain if you are – but he’s kind, generous. Willing to see the best in people. To do whatever it takes for his crew. That’s why I… why we…”

“Of course,” Emyn returns your smile. “My Adrimyn is the same way. She puts all of Jentiri first. You’re lucky to be consort of such a man.”

You nod. “Yes, I am.”

“I’m glad that it went so well for you, with the consorts. But you two need a legend,” Una says, gesturing with a forkful of Pike’s macaroni cheese as you debrief that evening.

“A legend? Sir this is amazing. Truly,” you add as you take a bite yourself. It’s a delicious balance of creaminess with just the right amount of sharp cheese flavour, and it’s complemented perfectly by the white wine Pike poured you.

“We’re off the clock. Call me Chris. And a legend is a back story. How we met, milestones, things like that. We got away with it today because no one was asking me about our ’relationship’, but if we ever did this again, we may need to get our stories straight.”

“We’re not going to do this again though, right?”

“What, you didn’t enjoy the Transit?”

“I did, it was—it was beautiful. But I’m a biologist. I still have a crate of samples to catalogue from my last mission. And you know the what the chief science officer is like…”

But of course, it does happen again. And this time you can’t even complain.

You’re in the ready room by the big screen, senior officers around the conference table, looks of concern on their faces.

“Starfleet has suspected that Eryran III is a hub for the illegal animal trade for a while now; there have even been reports of a gormagander being held in orbit. We have jurisdiction, in theory, but we’ve never been able to get any evidence; as soon as a starship is scheduled to go through the system, they move everything deep undercover. But a pair of critically endangered Lysisian golden bears have been stolen from the sanctuary at Lysis Alpha.”

You tap a control, and an image of two small bears appear on the screen. They have zebra-like stripes of gold on dark brown fur, and big brown eyes edged in gold.

 “They’re difficult to distinguish from other, non-endangered species unless you’re an expert. The pattern of the stripes, the morphology—” you adjust the display, showing the golden bears alongside the more common Lysisian brown bear, although you know the others won’t see the details you see, in the way the stripes branch, in the shape of the ears relative to the eyes relative to the jaw.

“The Enterprise is close – only a few hours away normally, or a couple at high warp. I could take a shuttle to Eryran IV,” you change the screen to show a schematic of the Eryran system, “which is currently on the far side of their stars. Sensors from Eryran III wouldn’t be able to detect the low-powered Starfleet signature, and I can take a civilian transport from there. If I find the bears, I can signal the Enterprise to secure them. But it has to be me; I’m the only one here who can identify them.”

Pike frowns. “It’s risky. The Eryran system... Eryran III is a pleasure planet, isn’t it? Like Risa?”

“Yes, Sir, but probably more like Casperia Prime. Not as hedonistic as Risa— it’s the kind of place to see and be seen.”

“Hmm. You may stick out alone. And with respect, if it gets to be a fight and you’re by yourself, we wouldn’t be able to get there fast enough to give you backup.” He shakes his head.

“Sir, I don’t enjoy the risks, but an ecosystem is at stake. I—”

“Hold your horses. It’s not ’no’. It’s ‘I’m coming with you.’”

“Damn. There really is a space whale. Look, darling— over there.”

You look past him out the viewport of the transport, trying to control your reaction to the term of endearment. You didn’t realise hearing him call you darling would make you feel all melty inside, even if only for a moment. Even if you know it isn’t real.

The gormagander is there, buoys floating round it which must be forcefield emitters to keep it contained. But at least it looks healthy.

“Wow. I’ve only ever seen holos of them before. They’re so rare.” You raise your brows, just a touch, and Pike nods fractionally. Whatever happens, the Enterprise will have to come for this creature.

Pike leaves you in the lobby of the hotel you booked to make you seem like real tourists, but it’s too nice out to stay indoors. You love space, but you always relish sunlight on your face. Or sunslight, in this case. There are something like palm trees outside, but with blue leaves, and the botanist part of you is wishing you could scan them and find out what specific chlorophyll molecule is in them, when the door opens.

If you weren’t ready to be called darling, you definitely weren’t ready for the sight of Pike stepping out into the street. He’s ditched the sweatshirt he was wearing on the transport and his navy-blue Henley is tight. You knew he must work out to fill his uniform in the way he does, but it’s one thing to know it, and another to see it.

His smile as he catches sight of you is just a little knowing, like he’s seen you looking, and you focus on adjusting your shoulder bag – it looks innocent, but it was shielded by engineering to hide your all your equipment – while you get control of yourself.

“I’ve taken our things up to the room. You ready to go?” He holds out his hand, and you smile up at him as you take it. Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but perhaps you see a little admiration in his eyes, too.

It’s a short walk from the hotel along a wide boulevard, lined with trees and teeming with other tourists, to the transport hub. You’re at the zoo in no time.

You try not to hold your breath as your bag goes through the beefy looking security scanner – larger than you would expect for a place like this, and another sign that something illegal may be happening. But the bored looking security guard hands it back to you, and you’re in.

The zoo is large and spacious, and not crowded, which you’re glad about. It has animals from all over the quadrant, and you and Pike— you and Chris wander around, occasionally stopping to take photos of the animals, and even a selfie or two. For appearances’ sake.

There are some species you recognise from Earth, like snow leopards, and a kangaroo carrying a joey in her pouch. You spend too long admiring the horses: a palomino stallion, and a chestnut mare Chris says reminds him of his horse Mary Lou. You manage to drag him away before he has a chance to ask about riding them.

There are a lot of rare creatures, most of which you’ve never seen in person before, like an Aldebran serpent which is a little difficult to see in the sunlight, and even a Drayjin from Dakala. Rare, but legal.

But even though all the animals seem to be reasonably well cared for, like the gormagander in orbit, the more you see – sometimes an empty pen, sometimes animals in an enclosure that looks too new, too pristine, a couple more security guards wandering around than should really be needed – the more you think there really is something going on under the surface.

 “I think that’s a Vulcan sehlat. Don’t you have a friend who had one of those as a pet?” You point at the brown bear-like animal, and Chris quirks an amused half-smile at you.

“Yeah, he had it as a kid. Says they’re very loyal. Though I think I’ll stick with horses,” he adds as the sehlat yawns, exposing those six-inch-long fangs.

“Mmm, I don’t think I’ll be adopting one soon. But maybe one of these bears? They’re super cute.” You work to try to keep the anxiety out of your voice as you approach the Lysisian bears. Now you’re here, the tension is getting to you. Your heart rate speeds up as you begin to feel a little lightheaded. Your stomach is churning.

But Chris picks up on it, of course. “You’re okay,” he murmurs, just for you. “Breathe through it.”

You take a breath, slow, and focus. You are Starfleet. You can get this done.

You look into the enclosure. You can’t see the forcefield but you’re close enough to feel the electric prickle from the generators, which along with a ditch protect you from the animals, and, in theory, the animals from you.

The first bear is slowly climbing a tree trunk, and you get a good view of its markings. A brown bear, not a golden bear. The second one is sitting on the ground, rummaging in the ground cover. You look at the head, and no. Also not a golden bear.

But further along, there is one bear alone, and another on the ground with two cubs. And—

“Look at these cubs, Chris, they’re adorable. I have to get a holo.” You turn to face him, rummaging in your bag. There’s no one else within a few metres of you, but there is an Andorian family nearby looking at some Terran giant pandas. Chris has his back to the nearest security camera, and you pass him the EMP generator, while you get the holo cam out. Hopefully the zoo’s sensors will just read an error in the power grid, but you know you’ll only have a minute or so after he activates it.

When you went into this you had been expecting two bears. But you can deal with four.

You turn back with the camera out, and snap a couple of quick holos. You switch it off, and Chris activates the EMP.

You immediately feel that prickle disappear, and you get out your blow pipe and a handful of tiny trackers so the Enterprise’s sensors can find the bears. You dart the lone bear, glad that unlike when you did this with anaesthetic at the academy it doesn’t matter where you hit. You go for cubs next; you can hear an alarm as you hit the first one you hit cleanly, but the other you only graze. You hit it with your second go but not before it squeaks in pain. The closer parent is on the move immediately, and you can hear running in the distance, but you narrow your eyes and hit perfectly.

“We’re good,” you mutter to Chris, and he gets an arm around you, hustling you along while you re-pack your bag. You feel the electricity in the air as the power is restored.

“Remember when we saw the giant pandas in that bamboo forest? In China?”

A little Andorian girl gazes up at you as you approach, which was Chris’s plan – you couldn’t run, because that would be suspicious, but if you could look like you were associated with another group for long enough…

“That was such an amazing hike. I still can’t believe that they were just there. Eating bamboo in that little clearing.” You feel your heart rate rise again as security runs past, but not as badly this time.

“Yeah, a special memory.” Chris tightens his arm around you a little as you look at the pandas. “I think it’s the Maravel dragon’s feeding time soon. You want to go take a look?”

The two hours you spend waiting for the Enterprise are two of the longest of your life. But you’re lucky – a better security operation would have been on to you, but the operatives at the zoo seem to have grown complacent, and you suspect that you just missed some even more valuable animals. Either way, you’re glad that you’re able to use an EMP again to disrupt their shields long enough for the Enterprise to beam the golden bears aboard.

“Thank you for today,” you say, as you hand your report in to Pike when you’re back on the ship.  “I find it easier to be brave when the people around me are more… nervous… than I am, I guess. Those bears and that gormagander needed you. I needed you. I couldn’t have saved them alone.”

“Given their lax security, you would have found a way. But we couldn’t have anticipated that.” He looks up, catching your eye.

“I’m glad I was there for you.”

The moment holds, but then he smiles, wide and open. “Now we can add pandas to our legend for real.”

After that... it isn’t something that happens frequently. But when a delegate is paying Chris too much attention at a reception aboard the Enterprise, stopping him doing his work, he catches your eye from across the mess hall, and you find your way there to his side, and you stay too close to just be a colleague. When you’re at a party a colony is throwing after your team decontaminated their water supply, and one of the colonists is drunk and won’t leave you alone… You can stand up for yourself, but you don’t want to turn things into an incident, and it’s just… easier if Chris takes your arm and leads you round the dance floor for a few minutes.

Chris invites you to crew dinners, sometimes as a thanks, but more often not. You enjoy spending time with him off the clock. Getting to know him as a friend.

But you try not to think about the sly looks Una gives you sometimes. You try not to lie awake at night, after one of you has bailed the other out, wishing it were real.

The holiday season is supposed to be a time for family. In Starfleet, your crew is your family. But this year, for the first time in a long time, the Enterprise happens to have a stopover on Earth for nearly two weeks around Earth’s Christmas and new year.

The buzz on the ship is palpable – most of the human crew are excited to spend a holiday season at home, and a lot of non-human crew are able to take some leave on their respective planets too.

But your family is on a far-flung colony, and it would take more than a week to get there from Earth. You don’t mind; Earth holiday traditions aren’t very important to you, and you saw your family a few months ago when the Enterprise was mapping a nebula in a nearby sector. A lot of the crew haven’t seen family in years.

You volunteer to stay on board, but you are assigned leave anyway; you don’t have bridge or engineering officer certification, and everything in your lab is safe to leave.

You don’t argue the point. Instead, you make plans. Visit Australia, learn to surf, try a Christmas Day barbecue on the beach, and maybe head into the bush one day to see some marsupials in the wild. The weather net means conditions will be perfect.

You’re looking through a catalogue of swimwear on the synthesiser, trying to decide whether you want a one piece, bikini, or both, when the door chimes.

“Enter,” you say, puzzled about who it could be. There aren’t many people left on the ship; certainly no one you would expect to pop by. You turn away from the synthesiser to see Captain Pike standing in your doorway, that half smile on his face. And you almost feel a little vulnerable, a little exposed – this is the first time he’s been in your space. You try not to let the feeling show.

“Chris, hey, come in. Can I—Did you need something?”

“I wanted to ask a favour. I know you’re getting ready for your leave,” he glances across to the synthesiser screen, still showing swimsuits, “but I wondered if you could delay for a day? My folks are hosting a party, and—” he grimaces. “My mom is going to try to set me up with every un-attached woman there, and I—”

“And you want a ‘date’ to take the heat off?”

“Yeah. It’ll be busy; I can make sure you don’t have to make small talk with my parents. But I…” he shakes his head. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to ruin your plans. Australia, wasn’t it? You should have your break— you’ve earned it.”

You glance at the chronometer. “Sydney time is nineteen hours ahead, so really that’s like five hours behind us? I was planning to beam over mid-afternoon local time – my room won’t be ready until then. If I join you, I’ll just be getting there in the evening instead.” You nod. “I’ll come.”

It’s worth it for his relieved grin.

After you’ve packed and taken your holiday luggage to the cargo transporter, you swing by the arboretum for one of the cuttings you’ve taken from a flowing plant that you picked up on an away mission. It will only grow in the medium you prepared for it, based on the soil of the planet it comes from, so there’s no biosecurity risk, and it’s pretty, with glossy green leaves and clusters of red and gold bell-like flowers. Perfect for the holiday.

Then you synthesise a dress. It’s understated, nice but not too formal, and you feel pretty in it. You synthesise a wrap, too, in case you need to spend time outside.

Chris is waiting in the transporter room when you get there, looking handsome and festive in a Fair Isle sweater over a button-down shirt. It’s in shades of dark green, red, and cream, with a couple of bands of small snowflakes among more abstract patterns.

“I told you; you didn’t need to bring a present,” Chris says as you step onto the transporter pad at his side.

“I know, but I would have felt wrong without one. We’re doing this properly, right?”

“Right. Kyle, two to beam down.”

The sun has just set when you arrive, and the light is fading from orange to pink to purple to deep blue, reminding you a little of the Jentiri Transit. Here, though, the stars in the sky are mirrored on the ground by a galaxy of fairy lights, picking out what must be Chris’s family home, some out buildings, and a large Christmas tree. You hear music and voices, and there’s a scent of pine in the air.

There are a couple of groups of partygoers approaching the house, and you’re glad that you transported down a little way away – you can orient yourself before you start meeting them.

“Ready to get this show on the road?”

“Yeah. Yes, I am.” Chris takes your hand, lacing warm fingers through yours.

Chris greets people as you cross the yard, some going into the house, others a big barn where the music is coming from, as he leads you to the front door. He’s relaxed – you’ve seen him in enough tense situations to know when it’s real, and when he’s putting on a show – and you relax, too, smiling at his friends.

The front door is open ahead of you, warm light spilling out, and you step across the threshold into a large open hallway, open to the second floor with stairs leading up on one side. There are garlands of greenery with golden pinecones and fairy lights hanging round the upper floor, and soft instrumental music is playing, different to what you could hear from outside.

“Welcome! So glad you were able to join us.” The woman who comes to greet you must be Chris’s mom; she’s older, with silver hair, and Chris’s blue eyes.

She favours you with a warm smile like her son’s as he makes the introductions.

“Thank you for having me, ma’am. I brought you this,” you say, handing over the plant.

“Oh, call me Willa, please. And how beautiful! Thank you – I’ve never seen anything like it. The mix of the colours of the flowers… It’s not from Earth, I take it?”

“No, I collected it on an uninhabited planet in the Iota Lyrae system. I wanted a sample because the soil there was unique, but I chose this plant because it was the prettiest.”

“So you’re a botanist?”

“Exobiologist, but my specialisms are botany and zoology.”

“I look forward to hearing your stories,” she says with an unmistakeable twinkle in her eye, “but for now, Christopher, I think your dad is cooking up some mulled cider. I’m sure you’d both like a drink?”

She smiles again and gives your arm a little squeeze as she steps past you. “Ahmed, Sara, good to see you...”

There’s a touch of relief in Chris’s eyes as you move through into the large open plan living, kitchen and dining room. It must be full of light during the day with large floor to ceiling windows, and it’s still quite bright now, with holiday lights and decorations all around the place, including a traditional looking tree in the corner, mainly decorated in white and gold, with presents underneath. The room is busy with people, a lot Chris’s parents’ age, but a wide range of younger people too, standing in groups and sitting on sofas and armchairs, chatting, drinking, and eating nibbles.

You feel Chris tense a little, though, as you both catch sight of the man who must be his dad, turning from a steaming pan on the kitchen stove to make a space on the counter. You remember Chris mentioning that their relationship could be a bit strained, and you try to resist tensing up yourself as Chris’s dad catches sight of you too.

“Son, perfect timing. Taste this and see if you think I have the spices right – your mom said the last batch was too heavy on the clove. Then your lovely lady can have a drink. I’m sorry, Chris did mention your name when he stopped by this afternoon, but my memory is not what it was.”

You introduce yourself, as Chris dips a spoon in the pan, and sips, thoughtfully.

“I think that’s good, dad. What do you think?” He offers the spoon to you, and you step in closer and lean in to take a sip, all too aware of his proximity, his eyes. Then the flavours register, fruit and spice and sweetness, and you find yourself smiling. You turn.

“I think it’s delicious, sir. I see where Chris gets his talent in the kitchen from.”

That seems to have been the right thing to say, because Mr Pike smiles. He dips a ladle into the pan and pours the cider into a glass mug, then hands it to you. “There. Now you can enjoy it properly.” He hands the ladle to Chris. “Would you—?”

“Of course.” Chris takes the pan off the stove, still holding the ladle, and brushes past you as he goes to put it on the table.

Mr Pike turns his attention back to you, a shrewd look in his eye.

“So do you celebrate Christmas? Will you be spending it with your family? Or do you celebrate another winter festival?”

 The questions come thick and fast, about your beliefs and those of your colony, and about its traditions and celebrations. You’re surprised to find yourself thinking again about some of them that you had always taken for granted.

“Sorry about that,” Chris says in an undertone a few minutes later, his gentle hand at your back guiding you into the main part of the room. “I know how he gets, but… the mulled cider is popular.”

“It’s fine. He was asking about my home, not— he seemed genuinely interested.” You stop yourself saying not about us. And then you wonder why.

You don’t have time to think about it, though, because you’re being drawn into conversation. Ahmed, it turns out, went to school with Chris, and they spend some time regaling you and Sara with tales of their high school escapades, and the time in a Parrises Squares tournament all four members of their team somehow managed to get knocked out cold on one play. Then you talk to Esther, a friend of Chris’s mom, about her art, and the inspiration she draws from the desert landscape, flora, and fauna.

You continue making the rounds of the room, Chris catching up with old friends and neighbours. The party feels alive around you; people coming in and out, music playing, food and drink being shared, conversation flowing. And through it all Chris keeps you close, and includes you. You find you’re enjoying yourself, much more than you expected.

“You ready for a change of pace?” Chris asks eventually.

“Sure. What did you have in mind?”

“You dance, right? There’s a dance floor set up in the barn, live band too. Would you like to go see?  I don’t usually have a partner,” he adds, soft, mindful of his mother on a sofa nearby.

“That sounds like fun. Lead the way.” You reach for his hand this time, and give it a little squeeze. There is something in his voice... you know Chris belongs in Starfleet, and you know he knows that too, but an occasion like this must make him think of other paths his life could have taken.

Outside there’s a slight chill in the air, and you’re glad you retrieved your wrap from where you put it on a coat stand in the hallway. But it isn’t far to the barn, and soon you’re enveloped in warmth.

There are warm white fairy lights strung along the beams, and another Christmas tree, this one very large, with lots of different baubles and decorations. Of course there is food and drink in here; you smell gingerbread from a table near the door.

There are a lot of people, some who you’ve seen pass through the house, and others you haven’t. There are people standing around the edge of the room, including Chris’s dad, deep in conversation with a group of four Andorians. And there are people on the dance floor, dancing to a jaunty number being played by the band. You don’t know if it’s traditional for the season or not, but it doesn’t seem to matter; everyone is having a good time. As you listen it comes to a stop, and everyone claps.

“May I have this dance?” Chris asks with one of those small lopsided smiles.

You’ve danced with Chris a couple of times before, and it’s always a pleasure. You can relax, safe in the ballroom hold, in sync with him, easily able to follow his lead around the dance floor. And if you pretend to yourself, while you’re in his arms, that this is real… well. You haven’t noticed any Vulcans or members or other telepathic species in attendance.

You dance several dances, until the band takes a break, although the music continues – a singer with a guitar takes over, singing something about a sleigh ride. You’re passing by the Christmas tree on the way to a drinks table when you see it.

“Hey Chris, is that the Enterprise? On the tree?” You step closer to get a better look. “It is! It even has the lettering on the saucer. NCC-1701.”

He laughs, warm. “I think they usually put it on the tree in the house. Bob gave it to my parents as a present, the Christmas after I was made Captain.”

“That sounds like Admiral April. I remember, he—” but you’re interrupted by laughter.

“Chris! Didn’t expect you to get caught!”

You look around to see a group of people all staring at you, expectantly.

“You’ve got to kiss now, guys, it’s the rules.”

“The rules?” You’re confused.

“Look up.” Sara, who you met earlier is there, pointing to some greenery suspended above your head. And you don’t think you’ve seen it before in person, but the way people are talking, it must be—

“Mistletoe.” Chris steps in close. “I’m sorry,” he adds, quiet. “I thought we— never mind. I’ll just—”

He leans over, and brushes a light kiss to your cheek, and it’s chaste but... your breath still catches a little.

“That doesn’t count,” one of the onlookers says, and a murmur of agreement ripples across the group.

Chris looks at you, questioning. And you know he would respect it if you said no, or showed any trace of hesitation. But you give him a tiny nod.

His hand rises up to your face, his fingers warm against your cheek. He leans in slowly, still giving you the chance to change your mind, but your eyelids flutter shut as his lips brush yours. And you’ve been close before. You’ve held hands, walked arm in arm… you’ve been dancing with him all evening. But as his lips brush yours you feel a jolt of energy flow between you, and the party, the audience, the pretence, none of that matters anymore, because Chris is kissing you again. Harder. Sweeter. His hand slips round to the back of your neck and you press against him, kissing back, eager, for a moment suspended together in your own little bubble.

The bubble bursts, though, as you hear cheers and clapping, and you pull away, or Chris pulls away, and suddenly it all feels… too much. The singer is too loud. The people are too close. The barn is too warm. You feel your heart thudding in your chest.

You try to keep it together. You’re here for Chris — you can’t just run out as soon as he kisses you. You nod and smile, make it to the drinks table, and when someone claps Chris’s shoulder, loudly proclaiming that they haven’t seen him in years, you mutter that you’re getting some air, and get out.

You feel like you can breathe again when you get outside. Like you can try to get your whirling thoughts in order. But the door to the house opens and you see Mrs Pike, and your feet are moving before you even think about it, and you’re pushing the door to one of the outbuildings open and slipping inside.

Immediately you feel movement, and smell animals—horses. The stables. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the dark, then you make your way slowly past the stalls until you reach one where what could be a chestnut horse with a white patch on its face has its head out, curious to see you. You hold out your hand for it to sniff.

“Are you Mary Lou? I’m sorry, I wasn’t really planning on coming here. I don’t have any apples or sugar lumps or anything.” She nuzzles your hand anyway, and you rub her nose. “I know your owner. I know Chris. Actually, I’m pretending to date him. But then we kissed, and I... I wished...”

“What did you wish?”

You turn, startled. Chris is standing there, holding your wrap, expression unreadable in the dim light.

“I—you—” you stare at the floor.

“Your wrap. You left pretty suddenly; I didn’t want you to be cold. You weren’t outside, and I saw the open door. Should’ve known you and Mary Lou would be making friends.”

You step closer and take the fabric from him, barely raising your gaze, and wrap it around your shoulders, slowly. You hug it to you.

Then you take a little breath, and look up.

“I wished we weren’t pretending. But I know that we are. So—so if you need to transfer me, or—”

He touches a finger to your lips, silencing you.

“When we kissed... I was right there with you. Wanting this. Wanting you.” He shakes his head. “I’ve wanted it for a while, actually, and sometimes I thought... but you—you know how to put on a performance.”

“Not where you’re involved.”

You reach up, still almost disbelieving, almost afraid to make contact. But you can feel Chris’s face stretch into a smile under your touch. His hands settle on your waist, pulling you in closer, and you kiss, lips parting, and it’s gloriously real.

In the end, though, Mary-Lou’s soft whinny reminds you of where you are.

“We should get back. I think Mom saw me head this way, and knowing her, she’ll come looking.” Chris belies his words, kissing your neck, and you gasp as he hits a sensitive spot.

“I—I guess you’re right. We should go.” You miss Chris’s warmth as he finally steps away. He goes over to pat Mary Lou before holding out a hand for you. You lace your fingers together, and he leads you back out of the stables into the night outside, back towards the barn.

“Wait.” A thought occurs to you, and you pull on your joined hands, getting Chris to stop. He turns to you, profile highlighted by the lights shining from the tree. “Is this now our actual first date? And… do you have plans for later this evening? The room I booked in Sydney is a double…”

Chris laughs. “I guess it is. I could join you in Sydney tonight, I know you want to learn to surf… But… have you thought about learning to ride instead?”

[elen-aranel]

Curtain Call - Act 1

For: @writer-wednesday, but week 16... yes this took that long Pairing: Captain Christopher Pike x F!Reader (no Y/N) Warnings: None! WC: 3k Rating: Teen Notes: People keep telling me, "Take your time, Elen", and I say, "but I don't want to!" But I needed this story to keep me company this summer. There's a further act to come! Summary: Chris is there. He catches your eye and tilts his head, a small, sheepish smile on his face, and time almost stands still for a second as you stare back at him.

Masterlist • Act 2 >

In space, no one can hear you sing.

One of your teachers at the conservatoire told you that, years ago, and somehow it stuck with you, along with how to use your stomach muscles to support your breath, and what to picture in your mind as you reach for a high note.

You never questioned her about why she said it; you don’t know if she thought space travel could be bad for your voice, or whether she thought Earth music belonged on Earth. But either way, you’ve only sung off-world a couple of times.

Work on Earth has been plentiful, though, so you never had a reason to think about it. You’ve been all over the planet: Europe, Asia, a stint at the Sydney Opera House which was magical… And you like this gig, a few more weeks in a theatre in your current home city of San Francisco, a lot. It’s where the Federation brass bring dignitaries to give them a flavour of human music, and you’ve sung for admirals, ambassadors, members of the Federation council, even the president.

Your numbers aren’t until the second half, so before the show you can mingle with the audience. And recently you’ve found yourself wondering. Feeling a little restless. Pretending to yourself you’re on a starbase somewhere, or maybe Kasseelia, at one of the opera houses.

Maybe one day, when the right opportunity comes up, you’ll perform off Earth again.

For all of your thinking about space, you have to appreciate the historic building that you get to perform in on Earth. The crystal chandeliers that cast a soft warm glow and the polished wood panelling aren’t actually hundreds of years old, but they’re a re-creation of the theatre’s original design. You wonder what it would have been like, when you couldn’t get on a starship to go to another world. When a place like this might have been your only escape from a mundane life on Earth.

There are a lot of Starfleet uniforms in the foyer this evening among the suits, dresses and alien robes; even more than usual. Some are the older style navy blue, but a lot of the newer, more colourful uniforms are dotted about the crowd. Reds, blues and golds. There are aliens of a species you’ve never seen before too, taller than humans with a sparkling stone which may be jewellery in the middle of their foreheads. You smile to yourself as you push your way toward the stairs, taking care, as you always do, that no one steps on your dress. There’s something about getting to witness the crowd, and their sense of anticipation.

Your other pre-show ritual is going up to the circle level bar for a drink. You pause at the turn in the stairs for one last look at the crowd before you perform to them later, then head the rest of the way up.

It’s quieter up here. You’ve noticed during the season that the bars on the ground floor are more popular pre-show, and patrons tend not to come upstairs as much until right before the performance starts. There are a few people at tables, but no one right at the bar. It’s as picturesque as the rest of the theatre, with walls covered with vintage posters advertising operas, plays and musicals that were staged here in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries.

You slide onto your stool, beneath the black and white girl on the poster of Les Misérables.

“The usual?”

“Hey, S’nera, yes please.” You smile at the Caitian bartender, ginger fur glossy under the bar’s spotlights, who already has a highball glass in hand.

“Let’s make that two,” a deep voice says, and you and S’nera share a doubtful look before you turn to see who’s spoken.

“All right,” she says, and you hear ‘your funeral’, but you forget that as you look at the stranger sitting down next to you, and your breath catches just a little. He is handsome, with a square jaw, mouth pulled into a small smile, perfectly styled greying hair and blue eyes, made bluer by the green wrap-around top he wears. He has a Starfleet badge so must be an officer, but that’s not a uniform colour you recognise. He wears it well, though. And it does nothing to hide his broad shoulders and muscled arms.

You’re jolted out of your admiration by the sound of the glasses hitting the bar, and you turn to pick one up.

“Cheers,” he says, clinking his glass with yours, and you both take a sip. His confident expression falters. “Room temperature pineapple juice? Really?”

“It’s what I always drink.” You shrug, grinning. “First time anyone’s joined me, though.” You take another sip, the fruity flavour soothing you as it always does.

“Well, guess I walked into that one. Figures, the day I’m having. I hate these things.” He gestures, somehow encompassing the whole theatre, and sighs, and you have to stop yourself watching his mouth on the glass when he takes a drink.

“You hate concerts? Music?”

“I’m not sure the music will really be my thing, but... it’s the having to be here to see and be seen. Being here because of who I am and what I represent. It feels... inauthentic. If—” He pauses. “I’m sorry, I didn’t come here to complain about my troubles to you.”

“No, that’s all right. Sometimes we just need someone to hear us.” You tilt your head. “Let me get you a proper drink. S’nera?” You reach over and take the glass from his hands, your fingers accidentally-on-purpose brushing against his. You clock his eyes widening just a fraction. “I’m putting it on my tab. What’ll it be?”

“Whiskey on the rocks. But won’t you join me?”

You shake your head – alcohol is bad for your voice, pre-performance, and so is ice. “I’m good. Perhaps later, though? After the show?”

“I hope so.” S’nera places his new drink on the bar, and he picks it up and raises it to you.

“So what brings you here, officer?” You ask. “I’m guessing work, but your uniform, I—”

“Chris, there you are. I knew I’d find you hiding out somewhere. Finish that, and come back with me.” The newcomer is also wearing a Starfleet uniform, dark blue with elaborate gold epaulets and badge. His dark eyes are equal parts amused and frustrated, and you’d bet he’s Chris’ superior. “I had to leave Sarah on her own with two of our guests; I’m hoping there won’t be a diplomatic incident by the time we get back.”

“Admiral, I—”

“Good evening and welcome. If you wish to take your seat for tonight’s performance, the auditorium is now open. May I please remind guests—”

You look at the antique clock above the bar. Somehow it’s already 7:15pm, and even though it’s much too early for your call, people start getting antsy if you’re not in your dressing room before the show starts. You step down off your stool, and pat Chris’ shoulder.

“I’ve got to get going now too. It was nice to meet you, Chris. Hope the show’s not as bad as you think.” You nod to the admiral on your way past, and smile at Chris, now standing, as you leave the bar.

“Anyone interesting out there tonight?” the principal ’cellist asks you as you pass her in the narrow corridor backstage, making sure to give her cello as wide a berth as possible.

“Mostly the usual, but there’s a diplomatic party. Some folks the Starfleet brass want to impress.”

“They came to the right place. We’re gonna blow them away.” Ayre, the tenor soloist, looking smart in a dark gold suit which sets off their golden-brown skin and close-cropped bleached gold curls gives a smug grin as they emerge from the door next to yours. “You coming out for drinks after?”

You open your mouth to reply, but an image of Chris floats in front of your eyes, and how you said you might meet him later. But you’ll never be able to find him—

“Hesitation is not like you.” Ayre’s expression turns suspicious. “Did you have other plans? Did you meet someone?”

You shrug. “Kind of? But no. No plans. Drinks sound great. And if I’m remembering right, you owe me, from—”

They laugh. “Yeah yeah, whatever.”

“Performers this is your five-minute call. Beginners, please stand by.”

“Break a leg,” you wave as you open the door to your dressing room.

Inside you flip on the humidifier, check your appearance and read for a bit before you start your warm-ups. At least your routine is well established, so it doesn’t matter if you can’t quite put a handsome Starfleet officer completely out of mind...

The thing you love about singing is that it’s just you. There’s nothing standing between the music and your audience; it’s your artistry, your emotion, your soul, direct from you to them. There are no instruments to get in the way, no keys to get stiff, no strings to break.

That’s not to say you don’t have to take care of your voice. You were tired and run down at the end of a semester at the conservatoire in your first year and you overdid it. You spent that entire summer resting, and praying that the doctors were right, and that your voice would come back by itself.

But as you step out onto the stage, hear the strings play that first soft chord, there’s only you, the audience, and the direct connection between you.

That’s part of why you like to mingle with the crowd before the show. The house lights are down and the stage lights are bright so you can’t make out anyone clearly, but you can picture who you’re singing for. You can see the faces, in your mind’s eye, of the regulars who you’ve seen at multiple performances. The aliens who you’d never seen before today. The Starfleet officers, including that admiral. And Chris.

You take a deep breath, and sing.

Another nice thing about being a singer is after your warm down, which only takes a few minutes, you’re done. You don’t have to drag your instrument in a case along with you if you go out, or stress about whether you’ve left it somewhere safe. And, while this run is going on, you can keep your fancy dresses at the theatre.

As quick as you are to leave your dressing room, Ayre is quicker.

“Leda said you were special tonight, you know.” They say as you fall into step with them.

“Wait really?” Leda is director of music at the theatre, among other things, and her good opinion matters.

“Of course really. I might get jealous. I’m supposed to be her favourite.”

You laugh. “Only because you dedicated Nessun Dorma to her that one time—”

“Shush. Piacere for drinks?”

“Sure.”

By the time you make it to the stage door there’s a good size group of your friends heading to the bar, and you’re looking forward to a couple of drinks before turning in.

But as you exit the theatre, stepping out into the fresh evening air, Chris is there. He catches your eye and tilts his head, a small, sheepish smile on his face, and time almost stands still for a second as you stare back at him.

Ayre nudges your shoulder, speaking in an undertone. “Guess you’re not coming after all? Make good choices, babe. “And they somehow manage to herd everyone else away before you can react.

“Hi,” you say, suddenly feeling a little nervous, a little exposed. “You enjoy the show?”

“I did. You were—” he shakes his head a little. “You were sublime, and I... I owe you an apology. I said a few things back there that were… ill-considered.”

“All you said was you didn’t expect you’d enjoy the music.” You shrug. “And that’s fair – not everything is for everyone. Mostly you seemed unhappy about your situation, not the concert. So no apology necessary. But… if you really want to apologise, you can buy me a drink?” You take a step towards him, smiling. “After a performance I can even have ice.”

“It’s the least I can do.” He grins as he offers you his arm. “So why do you drink warm pineapple juice before shows?”

“It’s a placebo, really. But I like the taste and it doesn’t do any harm, so I grab one pre-show while I’m sizing up the audience. Really you have to keep yourself hydrated all the time. And humid atmospheres help.”

You finger his jacket with your free hand. “My turn: why haven’t I seen a green Starfleet uniform before now?”

Conversation flows easily as you walk, and he’s happy to let you steer him to one of your favourite bars. It’s a bit of a hidden gem – by the bay, small but not crowded, and sleek and modern, unlike the theatre.

You like it because you can see out across the water as you sit with your drinks, to the Golden Gate Bridge in one direction, and lights on Alcatraz in another.

Above the water is the new moon, bright enough to reflect off the waves. And above that, stars.

Discussions of uniforms naturally lead to talking about space, and you question Chris on life as a starship captain, the places he’s been and the things he’s seen. His stories fascinate you, even if you’re not entirely sure you believe them all.

“You ever think about travelling? Seeing the stars?” he asks as you start in on the second round of drinks.

“Actually yes. More and more, recently. I was in a tour commemorating the founding of the Federation a few years ago. The concert on Vulcan... that was fun.”

“Oh?”

“A couple of Vulcan musicians caught up with me after the show, asking about the logic of conveying emotion in music, and why I didn’t just showcase the beauty of the mathematical structure underpinning it all.”

“That sounds very Vulcan. I have some experience with them.” He smiles, there’s something fond in his expression as it goes distant for a moment. “My chief science officer is Vulcan. He can sometimes be... blunt.”

“Yes, blunt.” You nod. “I knew they were asking in good faith, and after I got over my surprise it led to an interesting conversation. It was good to look at things from a viewpoint I hadn’t considered before.”

“That part of exploration... the way it challenges our perspective? That’s one of the things that keeps me going back out there.”

“Plus the things you get to see... the crystal formations on Iyer sound amazing. I want to see those. Shame Starfleet doesn’t take passengers.”

He laughs at that. “If I could I’d take you in a heartbeat.” He pauses, then reaches out to touch your hand. “You should go, though. To Iyer. Hell, you should travel the galaxy, if you want to. You can. Earth will still be here when you want to come home.”

“I should, huh. I still have a few weeks to go here, but after that... I was waiting for the right opportunity, to sing somewhere? But maybe I should just go explore.”

You sip your drink, feeling thoughtful. “So how long are you planetside?”

“Until tomorrow. Afternoon.” He smiles, lopsided and utterly charming, and you feel flutters inside you as you make your decision.

The corners of your mouth turn up, and you look him in the eye. “It’s a bit too late for food now, but would it be forward of me to ask you to—”

Your communicator beeps, and you frown, pulled out of the moment.

“You gonna get that?” He asks, expression gone amused.

You pull the communicator out and stare at it a moment, wondering if you can make it go quiet by force of will. But anyone calling this late must have a particular reason; it’s probably just Ayre wanting to give you an out from your date if you need one. You pull a face, and stand.

“I’d better. I’ll just be a minute.”

The breeze coming off the bay is chilly, and you feel goosebumps raise on your arms as you activate the communicator one handed, hugging the other across your stomach.

“Hello?”

“Oh thank God, I thought you were never going to pick up. It’s Leda. You need to come back to the theatre, now. It’s nothing bad, but we’re having a meeting. The others are here already, but you weren’t with them.”

“Um... now now? I’m sorry Leda, can’t whatever it is wait? I—I’m on a date...”

You hear her take a breath, and you can picture her in your mind’s eye, pinching the bridge of her nose, trying to slow down. “I’m sorry about that, but I wouldn’t call you in if the matter wasn’t of the utmost importance. Time is a factor, too. When will you be here?”

You stifle your sigh.

“Give me fifteen.”

Chris must pick up something in your expression as you return to him.

“Everything all right?”

“Yes, but no. Leda – Leda Lau, director of music – has summoned me back to the theatre for a meeting. I tried to tell her I was otherwise engaged, but she was insistent.” You sigh. “I’m so sorry, I was really enjoying our evening, but I’m going to have to abandon you.”

Chris stands and picks up your jacket, expression sympathetic. “Orders are orders. I understand. Let me walk you back.”

You take your jacket from him as you get to the door, and put it on before stepping outside.

“No, I’ll be fine. It’s way out of your way, if you’re staying at HQ.”

“I insist.” His small half-smile is back, and he holds out his arm for you. “My parents didn’t raise me to let a date walk back alone.”

The streets are quiet on your way to the theatre, stars glimmering above you, and it seems like no time before you’re coming up to the stage door again.

“Thank you for tonight.” You turn to face Chris, staring up into his blue eyes. “I’m sorry I had to bail on you. But... if you find yourself back on Earth again, feel free to look me up.”

He stares back down at you, and something in his blue eyes is searching. You know he’s going to kiss you—

“—don’t want you to worry, that’s all. I’ll be back soon. Yeah, see you later. Oh, hi—” Edward, a violinist, waves at you as he walks up to the door. “You here for the…? I’ll, uh… see you inside.” He gives you an apologetic glance, having just noticed Chris.

But the moment is broken, and Chris has already moved away.

“If you find yourself in space, feel free to look me up,” he says.

You smile, wistful. “I will.”

Somehow you make it through the door without looking back.

[elen-aranel]

Curtain Call - Act 2

For: @writer-wednesday, week 16. Pairing: Captain Christopher Pike x F!Reader (no Y/N) Warnings: None! WC: 4.5k Rating: Teen Notes: Thank you for joining me for act two. Reader gets to move out of her comfort zone today... Summary: Chris has emerged from the lounge, looking good in a gold uniform today. He actually winks at you as he passes, and you bite your lip to control your smile.

< Act 1 • Masterlist • Encore >

You don’t believe in ghosts, but if you did, the theatre at night would be a good place for them. You can almost feel the memories of performances past as you walk the familiar corridors: centuries of comedies, dramas, tragedies. And the echoes performers who portrayed those things and felt their own joys and heartbreaks in this old building. Perhaps you’re leaving an echo too: a memory of a missed opportunity.

But the light shining out from under Leda’s office door is warm, and you hear familiar voices as you approach.

“Finally! Now will you please tell us what this is about?” Ayre is the first person you see as you step through the door, flopped in one of the office chairs.

All the other chairs are occupied by musicians you know to varying degrees. Mostly instrumentalists: Jasveer, a pianist who has accompanied you in the past smiles as you come to a stop near her.

“You’re here. Excellent.” Leda consults a PADD on her desk briefly before looking round the room, making sure she has everyone’s attention.

“Some of you will be aware that there was a Starfleet delegation in the audience this evening, bringing the Maur Asani to experience some human music and culture. They enjoyed the show, enough that they have requested a performance on their homeworld as part of their negotiations with the Federation.” Leda’s dark eyes catch yours. “They asked for you specifically.” Your eyebrows raise, and you take a breath to say something, but Leda carries on.

“As I understand it, it is of considerable importance for the Federation to make a good impression on the Maur Asani. So we are asking you to accompany their delegation back to their homeworld. Tomorrow.”

Transporting a piano is serious business, apparently. Jas said they’d started an hour ago, and they’re still working on it.

Even though you’d had a late night – though perhaps not as late as you’d hoped – you woke early.

You had laughed, startled, then immediately regretted it, when Leda mentioned, very offhand, after going through all the logistics of who was coming, what instruments, a provisional programme – when she mentioned that the ship you would be travelling on was the Enterprise.

Nerves are a part of being a performer. Confidence grows with practice, and the more you sing for people the easier it is, but you always feel them at least a little before a performance. You think it shows you still care about your audience and your art; the day the nerves are gone completely you should probably find a new career.

But today, even though you aren’t performing, you are nervous.

Because you know the captain of the Enterprise.

Last night seemed like it would be something special. You felt you were on the brink of a real connection with Chris, even though you knew it would be fleeting. But being on his ship is a different thing entirely. Will it be strange to see him in this different environment? Will he even want to see you?

And aside from that, suddenly the thing you thought you wanted, the opportunity to travel off world again, was dropped in your lap with no notice and no real choice for you. It’s exciting, but... it’s a lot.

Packing at home didn’t take long – you’re used to travelling when it comes to Earth, and space isn’t that much different. There will be synthesisers on the ship if you’ve forgotten anything.

You took your peace lily, the only plant you haven’t yet killed, round to a neighbour’s along with a box of fresh food from your kitchen; then all you had left to do at the theatre was put a couple of your fancier dresses in garment bags and leave your baggage with everyone else’s.

Jasveer winces as a Starfleet cadet, assigned to help with instruments and baggage on the trip, rocks the frame of the piano as she takes one of the legs off. The guts of it are wrapped in different sections on the floor, and prior to today you had no idea you could disassemble them into quite so many pieces.

“Is all this really necessary?” You gesture to the different parts. “Couldn’t they just—just transport it? As is? Or maybe just put it in a crate?”

“The cargo bay isn’t designed for instrument storage. Stress on the frame from the strings can be an issue. And Starfleet can’t completely guarantee that we won’t be in any space battles.” Jas shrugs, and twists a lock of her long black hair through her fingers. “At least this way I get to play a piano I’m familiar with.”

“Space battles? Are we expecting space battles? I think I’d rather stay on Earth.” Ayre’s grin belies their words.

“If you want us to have all the glory, be our guest.”

As the golden sparkle fades your eyes stray from the red-shirted officer operating the transporter, to the officer wearing gold who steps forward with a polite smile.

But she isn’t Chris. And you’re surprised to find, despite your nerves around seeing him again, that you’re disappointed he isn’t here. You can’t think about it for long, though, because she’s introducing herself.

“Welcome to the Enterprise. I’m Commander Chin-Riley. Captain Pike regrets that he was unable to meet you; he is tied up with… diplomatic matters. I’ll show you to your quarters, let you leave your things, and then we can have a tour. This way, please…”

You take a breath as you step off the transporter pad. The air tastes fresher than you expected, not like outdoors, but not stale like other ships you’ve been on.

But the Enterprise isn’t like other ships.

You follow the crowd, trying to take it all in. How modern, how sleek and shiny it all feels.  The commander shows you to how to operate the turbolifts, and how to check on the computer which areas of the ship you’re authorised to visit.

“These are your quarters. You four are in here,” she indicates you, Jasveer, Ayre and Corrine, second violinist in the string quartet, “And you”—she indicates to the rest of the musicians—“are here and here. I’m sorry you have to share; our usual guest and diplomatic quarters are all full, so we’ve had to assign cadet quarters. I’ll give you a minute to have a look around, then we can have a proper tour.”

A murmur of thanks ripples across your group, but before the door to your quarters opens, the comm chimes.

“Bridge to Number One, Captain Pike requests that you report to the diplomatic quarters on deck four. Our guests need some assistance.”

“Acknowledged.” She sighs, and you get the impression that they’ve been struggling with the ‘guests’ for a while. “I’m sorry, I’m going to have to postpone our tour. Please make yourselves at home, and feel free to use the gym and the rec rooms. I understand you’ll need sound-proof spaces to practice? I’ll have the quartermaster organise something for you.”

She starts back along the corridor toward the turbolift, but turns back.

“Normally the captain would want to cook for you in his quarters this evening, but the Maur Asani can’t eat our food, so we’re having a reception in the Officers’ Lounge instead, at 20:00. I’m sure he’ll invite you another time.”

It must just be your imagination, but you can’t help but think she looks at you as she says that.

Your quarters turn out to be comfortable, with a good size common area, even if you have a bed pod rather than a bedroom. But you only stay long enough to get settled; you’re all eager to see more of the ship, with or without a tour.

The mess hall has a much nicer ambiance than you expected compared to the few other ships you’ve been on. It’s less utilitarian; it almost feels like a restaurant. You’re amused by the looks you get from the few crew members who are around – mostly friendly, but there’s curiosity there too.

“Is that Neptune? I’ve never seen it this close before.” Ayre’s voice is full of wonder, and you follow their gaze out one of the windows. They pull out one of the white chairs and sit, and you do too, all your attention focused outside.

“It must be. It’s beautiful,” you hear that note of wonder in your own voice too. The planet outside is shades of dark blue, but there are a few wispy little white clouds around a large dark storm system.

You watch as Neptune recedes from view, replaced by a vista of sparkling stars. And then you hear a note change on the ship, a deep rumble you hadn’t really been aware of until now. You open your mouth to say something to Ayre, but before you can, the stars stretch out into filaments, and you know you’ve jumped to warp.

“I love looking at the stars like this. My dad used to say he could tell what warp factor a ship was travelling at from the note of its engine. He was in the fleet,” Ayre says, still looking out the window.

“Any guess on what speed this is?”

“Warp three,” they say with conviction, but then they laugh. “Actually, I have no idea. He transferred to Earth when I was little…”

A good thing about sharing quarters is that there’s less room for over-thinking. You all troop back to them after dinner in the mess hall – you had intended to see a bit more of the ship, but something about the warp stars was special for all of you – to change for the reception.

You know you’ll see Chris there.

But while you want to look good, you don’t want to be seen by your friends to be trying too hard. You wear clothes that are smart but comfortable, and you try hard to be calm, and not to think about your excitement. Or nerves.

“Are you okay?” Jas asks as the turbolift doors open. “You seem a bit… a bit…”

“Subdued. Yeah.” Ayre nods and their brow furrows. “Are you feeling space sick or something? I’m sure they can help in sickbay, if you are.”

Evidently you tried too hard. You shake your head as you lead the way into the corridor.

“I’m fine. I’m definitely not sick, I—”

“No, Admiral April, Captain Pike. No. This is entirely unsuitable. No. We will not stay a moment longer. Good evening.”

A group of aliens sweep out of the lounge and along the corridor, the same ones you saw at the concert yesterday, and your back hits the wall as you make room for them and their flowing robes. Up close you can see that the stone in the middle of the lead alien’s forehead, glimmering red and orange, is not jewellery, but seems to be embedded into their skin with green-blue veins spidering outward from it into their brownish grey skin. There’s variation in skin tone among the delegation, and in the colours of their stones, but you don’t get a chance to study them further before they are in the turbolift.

“Deck four,” you hear as the doors close.

“Ah damn. Guess we should go after them? I was looking forward to a drink.” Chris has emerged from the lounge, looking good in a gold uniform today. He actually winks at you as he passes, and you bite your lip to control your smile.

“We’d better. Put out that spark before it catches fire.” Admiral April directs an apologetic smile at you, before addressing everyone. “You should all go through to the reception, though. Someone should have some fun.”

“Thanks, Admiral,” you say, and walk on down the corridor. You can feel Ayre beside you, itching to say something, but they manage to restrain themselves until after you hear the turbolift doors close again.

“Well I think we have our explanation. I can’t believe you didn’t say!”

“I didn’t say what?”

“That we’re on the ship with that officer from last night, and, hello, how hot is he? Back me up here Jas? I thought so yesterday, but— Oh, you weren’t there. You saw him though, Corrine? At the stage door? You remember – he was waiting when we got there, and—”

You head into the lounge, busy with the other musicians and support staff, and crew in and out of uniform. There has to be a glass of water around somewhere.

You hoped, after you’d had breakfast, that Chris might be taking the tour you were promised yesterday. You were happy to see him yesterday, and happy that he still seemed interested in you; you just wished you could have spent some time with him. You aren’t really surprised, though, when Commander Chin-Riley meets you outside your quarters.

You enjoy getting to see the guts of the ship in engineering – you’ve never actually seen a warp core before, and you find the scale of it a little overwhelming – and the nerve centre on the bridge is fascinating too, though there’s an officer in a red shirt on the bridge where Chris would usually sit. Captain Pike, when he’s there. You wonder if the captain is still putting out fires.

It’s the afternoon now; the instrumentalists all do hours of practice every day, and even Ayre had retired to your quarters with repertoire to learn for their next gig – somewhere in Europe – after you had both gotten done practicing.

But you enjoy exploring by yourself; you find the gym and the swimming pool before heading to the arboretum.

Engineering should have prepared you for the scale of the arboretum, but you stop just inside the doorway, slightly stunned. You thought ‘arboretum’ would be an exaggeration, and there would be a few sad, droopy looking specimens in pots.

Instead, there are actual trees growing on a starship. Plants aren’t really your thing, and you don’t recognise any, but you think by the colours of some of the leaves – blues, purples and silvers mixed in with the greens you’re familiar with – that they’re not all from Earth.

It’s quiet, like most of the common areas seem to be during the day shift, and you enjoy walking along the paths that are laid out between sections of trees, and flower beds. There are some scents you recognise, like rose and lavender, and others you don’t, both floral and woody. You pass benches, and even a pool.

A botanist is working in one of the beds, his blue uniform standing out among pink and orange blossoms, and he tells you, animated, about how they simulate seasons for some of the plants by modifying the temperature of the beds, and about his research project on the effects of warp fields and subspace on plant growth. You don’t understand the latter part, but you enjoy his enthusiasm. He seems young, and he doesn’t have a stripe on his jacket, so you think he must be quite junior on the ship.

You’re walking again when you hear a soft, whispery voice, slightly hesitant.

“Excuse me? You’re the singer, aren’t you?”

“One of the singers, yes,” you turn, smiling, to see one of the aliens – the Maur Asani – approaching. You’re struck again by how tall he is, orange-gold jewel sparkling on his pale forehead.

He extends his hand. “I am Eshar. I believe this is the correct human greeting? I wanted to say how much we enjoyed your singing the evening before last. It was truly beautiful.”

You take his hand, cool in yours, and shake it. “Yes, a handshake is good. And thank you, I really appreciate that.”

“It was a balm to my spirits. It reminded me of the feel of listening to Asani…” he trails off, something distant in his dark grey eyes.

“Asani? Forgive me if I got it wrong, but your species is Maur Asani? I don’t understand.”

“More accurately, we are the Maur from the planet Asani. All the music, but your performance in particular, reminded us of the songs it sings, and how it feels. Negotiations have been difficult, but it made us think that we must have something in common with your Federation, and that partnership is worth pursuing.”

You blink. “Wow. Thank you, that’s very… Wait, your planet sings? How? How do you hear your planet sing?” Belatedly you realise your question may be inappropriate, but he doesn’t seem to take offence.

“Our ecosystem is a collective consciousness. I hear it through my hala’an.” He taps the jewel on his head. “These crystals are embedded in most living things on the planet, animal and plant, and together we form our song. We can hear when everything is in balance, the love that life has for living... or if things are wrong, and there is suffering and sadness… a few among us can even hear subtleties like weather approaching, and some can... influence... the song, to a narrower or wider degree. But we are far from Asani here, and to be without the song for this long is a trial.”

“So you’ve travelled away from Asani before?” You fall into step, walking again, among the trees.

His brow creases. “Before this trip, the longest I had been without the song was two days, on a trip to our furthest colony, Maur Ilamin. Ilamin’s voice is different to Asani’s, but it completes us in the same way. The trees on the ships, and the trees on your Earth, have helped me on this journey. They do not sing, but they remind me of home. I feel better here.”

You spend time talking, you telling him about music, and him telling you about Asani, and what you can expect when you arrive there. You’re eager to see it, even though you’re several days away still, because it sounds so different to Earth.

After a while, your curiosity gets the better of you.

“Last night… in the Observation Lounge. You all left as we were getting there. If you don’t mind me asking, what happened? Why was that?”

He stops walking, and looks at you, thoughtful. You hope he can see from your expression that you didn’t have any ill-intent in asking.

“Being away from Asani… it is hard for me, but harder for Emlo, first negotiator, because his link to Asani is deeper. And humans, other species on Earth… one cannot tell by looking who is senior. We Maur can always tell among ourselves by the colour of the hala’an. The stronger the link, the higher the rank. On the ship we can tell because of the arm stripes. But yesterday, with so many of the crew not wearing their normal clothes, Emlo thought one of them was a musician. His mistake shamed us, so we withdrew.”

“That sort of error wouldn’t be a shame to a human. A minor embarrassment, maybe, but not shame. Thank you for telling me all this. And telling me about Asani. I look forward to singing for you there.”

“As I look forward to hearing you.”

You have two stops when you leave the arboretum. The first is to your quarters, where you’re happy to find Corrine and Jas as well as Ayre. You explain your plan to them and they think it’s a good idea, and you leave them to get the other singers and musicians on board.

Your second stop, after consulting the computer and finding that it isn’t off limits, is the captain’s ready room.

“Enter.” Chris sounds a little resigned, you think, as the door opens and you walk through. Your first impression is space, and the massive screen in front of you with a diagram on it; maybe a star chart? You aren’t sure. Your eyes sweep the room; there are armchairs to your left, and Chris is to your right, head bent over a PADD at his desk. You note the horse sculpture to his right, and you think it fits.

“Captain Pike,” you say with a smile, and he looks up, surprise turning into a lop-sided grin on his handsome face.

“You are… not who I expected.” he puts his PADD down and stands. “Can I offer you a drink? You don’t have a performance today.”

You shake your head. “No thanks, better not. This isn’t a social call I’m afraid.”

“Oh?” He sits back down, and gestures to the chair on the other side of his desk. “Here to complain about the size of your quarters?”

You sit, grateful to have the desk between you; the slight distance helps you concentrate on what you want to say a little more. Rather than your focus being solely on him, and how his proximity is making you feel.

“The pods are surprisingly comfortable. I don’t think your cadets can have much problem with them. Though I guess they may… stifle socialisation a bit? But that’s probably the point.”

He laughs at that. “Touché. It’s better if the cadets aren’t juggling heartbreak with learning the ropes around here. So, what can I do for you?”

“The reason I’m here is because I had a chat with Eshar, one of the Maur Asani delegates earlier. He told me about them, their planet, and what went wrong yesterday.”

Chris winces. “Yes, everyone in uniform at all times. Bob – Admiral April – has had words on the subject. He’s with them now, still trying to smooth things over. They don’t seem to like to leave their quarters, or they’d all be in here now.”

“I think their real problem is stress. They aren’t natural explorers – being physically apart from their planet is hard for them. Homesickness is the nearest we would come, I guess, though I haven’t even thought of Earth since I got here. But for them...”

You tell him about your conversation, and the idea you had. By the end, he’s nodding. “I’ll make the arrangements,” he says, and you know your plan is in safe hands.

You can’t help but smile as you go through the doors to the arboretum once again. The lighting is muted, matching the ship’s evening, but there are thousands of fairy lights, picking out the edge of the paths and beds, and spiralling up some of the tree trunks and out along the branches, and the effect is magical.

There are tables here and there, with drinks, glasses, and finger food, and there’s a small stage set up with chairs for the string quartet, Jasveer’s practice keyboard, and space for a singer or two. As you watch you see crew, all in uniform, putting finishing touches to displays: putting out a tray here, or adjusting lights there.

“They pulled out all the stops,” Jas says, and you notice she and Corrine have paused next to you to take it all in.

“They really did. I mustn’t forget to thank Captain Pike. I just hope the Maur Asani enjoy it.”

“They will.” Ayre is confident as ever as they walk toward the stage, full silky black skirt billowing around them. “We should make a start.”

As much as you love singing, you enjoy getting to people watch while others perform too. The string quartet is playing Mozart; Eine Kleine Nachtmusik, which seems appropriate, even if they could probably play it in their sleep. The Starfleet crew is mingling with Jas, Ayre, and the other singers, or sitting on the benches enjoying the music. The Maur Asani delegation are mingling, too. You aren’t an alien body language expert, but you think they’re much more relaxed than yesterday. They seem to appreciate the music and the environment, although their attention is particularly held by the vocalists.

“I believe we have you to thank for this evening,” Admiral April has joined you and he smiles, warm. “Chris says you’re the one that got them to open up about the difficulty of being away from their planet, and organised all this. I’m grateful – I didn’t understand why the trip here, on the Lexington, was so much less stressful, or why tempers seemed to fray more as we spent time on Earth.”

“Thank you, but I just had the idea. Captain Pike listened, and made it happen.” You smile, wry, thinking of various conductors you’ve had who’ve ignored your suggestions, even when you’ve known you were right. “And the crew did all the hard work to put this together. Some of them are going to perform, too.”

“Chris listens when it suits him.” April’s smile turns amused. “You have our gratitude, regardless. The Maur Asani are important to the Federation, and we appreciate anything that makes negotiating easier.” He nods. “Enjoy your evening.” The music ends on a flourish, and you head back to the stage.

The notes of the Vulcan harp – the ka’athyra, glitter in the air. You can almost see them, in colours and patterns, each one adding to the harmonious whole. You were a little surprised when Spock, the chief science officer, was among the Enterprise crew members offering to play, but you’re very glad he did.

The evening is beginning to wind down. You’ve sung your last group of songs, and your whole performance went well. You were mostly technically sound, though as always you have one or two things you could improve, but most importantly you felt like you really connected with your audience. An audience you couldn’t help but notice included the captain, back in his green jacket. The one you’d hoped to help him take off.

Now you just get to listen as Spock plays. The style is so different to anything you’re used to, but it almost lulls you into a meditative state as you concentrate on the music.

“Drink?” You jump slightly as you realise Captain Pike is suddenly right beside you, handing you a glass.

“Thank you,” you smile politely, trying to cover your reaction to both the surprise and his sheer presence. Then you take a sip, and laugh. “Room temperature pineapple juice?”

“I know you performed already – I listened; your singing was beautiful – but I thought you might still like it.”

“I do. And thank you, I appreciate it.”

He takes your arm, and you let him steer you toward the trees.

“I can offer you Saurian brandy back in my quarters. And—” Something in his tone makes you look up at him, and you see some sort of light in his eyes. “I wondered if you’d like to stay to breakfast. Not to brag, but my pancakes are very good. What do you say?”

“French toast.” You can’t help grinning at his blank look. “That’s what I was going to offer you, when—” you gesture with your juice glass. “Yes. I say yes.”

“Excellent.” And before you know it, he’s taken your glass and set it down, drawn you up and across a flowerbed, activated a hidden service door, and pulled you through.

There’s a fire. A warm, flickering light that’s the centrepiece of Chris’s quarters, contrasting with the simulation of the green forest outside the windows. You expected his space to be more sleek lines, more shine like the rest of the ship, and there is that, but it’s personal, too. And there’s a fire.

You turn, opening your mouth to ask him about it, but you gasp slightly as you get caught by the flames reflected in his blue eyes.

Chris smiles a small smile. Knowing. “Maybe we’ll save the brandy for another night.”

He brings a hand up slowly, fingers lightly settling on your face, and you lean into the touch, lean into him. You stare up into his eyes for a moment before his gaze flickers down to your lips, and then he’s kissing you. It’s gentle, to start, lips brushing lips, taking your time, enjoying the moment you’ve both been anticipating. But then you grip his green jacket, and the fire takes hold between you.

[elen-aranel]

Curtain Call - Encore

For: @writer-wednesday, week 16 Pairing: Captain Christopher Pike x F!Reader (no Y/N) Warnings: None! WC: 761 Rating: Teen Notes: I always think it's funny at the end of a show or performance, when you clap like it's the end, but everyone involved knows there's more to come. I hope you enjoy this epilogue <3

< Act 2 • Masterlist

You sit on the sofa in Chris’s quarters, legs tucked up under you, nursing your black coffee. His coffee is very good, and you like how warm the mug feels in your fingers. You like the smell.

The Maur Asani have joined the Federation; yesterday you had the privilege of singing at the signing ceremony. Their Hall of Governance was unlike any building you’d ever been in, part built and part grown, giant trees in place of columns, the canopy interlaced with large stones flecked with the same crystal the Maur have on their foreheads.

 The acoustic was beautiful, more alive than the theatre back in San Francisco. It was almost like a church, the slight echo allowing your voice to soar. Afterward, there were receptions and celebrations before you returned to the ship.

And in a few days the Enterprise is due to rendezvous with the USS Sioux, to take the musicians and diplomats back to Earth, including you.

“You okay?” Chris is looking down at you, brow furrowed.

“Yes? Why wouldn’t I be?”

He shrugs. “You’ve been staring at that coffee for a while.”

“I guess I have.” You put it down on the table.

You’ve enjoyed your time on the ship; you even had duties, of a sort – after the success of your musical soirée, you performed almost daily for the Maur Asani, and helped compile playlists of music from the ship’s computer to play for them in the arboretum during their remaining meetings.

And you’ve enjoyed your time with Chris especially. His company, his cooking, his bed.

But there’s often a sense of anti-climax in the days after a big performance, or when you come to the end of a run at a particular theatre. You spend so long preparing, so long getting to know your music, finding the heart of it, practicing, psyching yourself up to be in the headspace to sing the best that you can.

When you’re actually singing, when you look out over the audience and know that they’re with you, that high is like nothing else. It lasts for a little while, and then... you wake up and there’s nothing, just emptiness, and part of you wonders if you’ll ever find that feeling again, even though you know in your head that you will.

“It’s the post show blues, I suppose. Yesterday was amazing, but now it’s over. Soon I’ll be going back to Earth. And by the time the Sioux gets us there, I won’t even have many performances left in San Francisco. Sorry, I shouldn’t be so… negative.”

Chris nods, thoughtful, and he sits, turning to look at you. “No, I get that, I think. Feeling a bit empty? You’ve enjoyed your taste of exploration, and you don’t want it to end. But what if it doesn’t have to?”

You study him, puzzled, but his expression is open, genuine. “I don’t understand.”

“The Enterprise is down for a survey mission next, but then we’ve been ordered to Starbase 44. I believe there’s a moon near there…”

“With a Kaseelian Opera house! I’ve always wanted to go. I can’t believe the prima donnas really— But you don’t carry passengers. How?”

“Admiral April tells me I can take on a Civilian Specialist for a while. So how about it? Long range sensors have detected some interesting sonic signals from the nebula we’re surveying, too, if that sweetens the deal.”

You feel your brow furrow, despite your excitement. “But space is silent, everyone knows that.”

“Not all of space. The gas density of this nebula, it’s close to a planetary atmosphere. Hell, you could probably sing there, if you can breathe in it. We’d need to check the composition.”

“I could sing…” You shake your head, picturing your teacher from years ago. You weren’t sure if you were ready to explore the galaxy when you beamed onto the Enterprise, but now you know you are. You’ll need to call Leda, but you’re sure she can cover the rest of your shows.

“Thank you, Chris. I think this might be something I really need.”

“I’m glad.” He smiles, pleased, and you can’t resist leaning over to him. He pulls you close, and you cup his smooth-shaven jaw in your hand. The kiss is soft, lush, and it deepens.

“Not that I’m not enjoying this,” Chris murmurs into the skin of your neck sometime later, “but I do have a ship to run. Breakfast? Pancakes, waffles? Or something else?”

“Hmm.” You pull back a little. “I guess I never did make you that French toast…”

[elen-aranel]

Chanced Chapter 9: Enterprise - Choice

Pairing: Christopher Pike x F!Reader (no Y/N) Warnings: mentions of sex, kissing WC: 3.8k Taglist: @fzziiee​ Notes: We’re finally here. Thank you so much to everyone who’s read and interacted with this story <333 This is one which wouldn’t let me go: last year I wrote Fierce and that featured an established relationship but I always kind of wondered, how did Chris and Reader get together? Now I know. Rating: Mature Summary: you had suddenly woken up again to how handsome he is. To his broad shoulders. To that perfect jaw. To those devastating blue eyes. It’s not that you had ever really forgotten, of course, but now it was so distracting.

< Previous Chapter • Masterlist • Fierce >

Starship Enterprise, 2254

Starship Enterprise continues to surprise you.

Sometimes in bad ways: you knew you shouldn’t make eye-contact with a member of the Kosha’en until they had touched you to acknowledge your presence, but you didn’t know that looking to their left rather than right was a terrible insult until you found yourself writhing on the floor at the wrong end of an energy whip.

But often in good ways. When you were applying for the posting, you hoped you and the captain would be on friendly terms, but you couldn’t have seen yourself cooking in his kitchen.

“Taste this. What do you think – more ginger?” You dip a spoon in the carrot and orange soup and offer it to Chris. Everything else for dinner is ready, or on the way: the salmon is roasting in the oven with fennel, chilli and orange and lemon slices; the Mediterranean roast vegetables that Chris had prepared are in the oven too, and the key lime pie, with a touch of dark chocolate grated on top, is chilling.

He leans across and tastes the soup on the spoon, expression going from thoughtful to a warm smile. “It’s perfect. The heat of the ginger is there – that little kick – but it doesn’t overpower the other flavours.” He tilts his head. “You need to stop worrying. Your guests are going to love it.”

You turn the heat down to the point where the soup is just being kept warm and put the lid on the saucepan. “It’s my first time cooking for company in so long. You know how it is when you don’t do something for a while.”

“We’ll have to make this a regular thing, then. Enter!” He adds, as the door chimes.

Your nerves melt away as your friends and colleagues come in. Commander Nhan is on bridge duty, and Lestari is on shift too, but Sullivan hands you a bottle of wine with a smile, closely followed by Corea, Tehrani, and Anderson. You pour wine as Chris passes round bowls of olives, and conversation soon flows.

Chris makes an excellent host, you think, as you do final checks on the food that’s still cooking. You know Corea especially had been a little anxious when you invited him, but he isn’t anymore; he’s telling some anecdote that has everyone else laughing. Chris looks over to you, a question in his expression. You nod, pouring the soup into a tureen, and he steers your guests to the table.

“Thank you for this evening,” Chris says as you load up the recycler. You’re tired, but you’re feeling that buzz that comes when your guests are gone, but you know they had a good time.

“Oh? I think that’s my line,” you say, glancing at him over your shoulder. “You let me do all this,” you gesture with the last dish before putting it in the recycler.

“I used to host the crew quite often, but… I haven’t for a while. You gave me a reason to again, and I’d forgotten how much I enjoy it.” He smiles. “Next time I’m cooking.”

“Nicola was waxing lyrical about your steak when I told him what I was doing this evening, just in case you’re looking for menu ideas…” you straighten up. “Looks like I’m done. Thank you for this evening, though. It was wonderful to cook again.” You turn to see him studying you, looking thoughtful. Your eyes meet, and just for a moment—

But no. You take a breath and smile. “See you at briefing?”

“Steak with the bridge crew next time, then. It’s a plan. Good night.”

Fresh basil with your scrambled eggs, spinach and tomatoes tastes good, and your coffee, arguably, tastes better. You’re eating breakfast in the mess hall, and everything seems right with the universe. Especially since you see Tehrani and Anderson heading your way with their trays; you’re glad for the excuse to lay aside your PADD with its somewhat dull report.

“Good morning,” you say, bright, as they sit. “How was your run?”

“The run itself was dull,” Tehrani says, taking a sip of her peppermint tea. “We should have art up in the corridors. Something.”

You nod to Anderson. “Well done for dragging her out.”

Anderson nods back, hazel eyes sparkling. “She likes it really. Plus, we got to talk.”

“That’s true. We did.” Tehrani is holding a flatbread in hand, but she focuses on you. “We enjoyed dinner last night. The salmon.” She sighs, closing her eyes. “Perfection. But…” her eyes snap open and she raises a brow. “We have a question.”

“Oh?”

“I’ve had my suspicions for a while. For example, I don’t see the captain spending hours in sickbay keeping other officers company when people get injured. But last night?” Her eyes narrow. “How long have you and Pike been together?”

You choke on your coffee.

“Excuse me?”

“Together. You know? A couple? Spending time together? Cooking together? Sleeping together? All that stuff?”

“Oh my goodness Laleh, we are not together! Gosh!” You keep your voice low and look around, hoping no one else is close enough to hear. “We’re just friends. He’s the captain; he’s in my chain of command. He’s in everyone’s chain of command – he wouldn’t be with anyone on the ship. We’re friends. Good friends, but friends is all it is.”

Anderson shakes her head, voice gentle when she speaks. “No, but… the way he looks at you. If someone looked at me like that…” her expression goes dreamy as she takes a mouthful of her scrambled egg.

Tehrani waves her fork. “And the way you look at him. There has to be something there.”

“Well, there isn’t, so…”

“So even if you aren’t together, you both clearly want to be.” Tehrani’s brown eyes soften. “Of course you’d want to be careful, but there are no rules against relationships, even for captains. There’s no reason you shouldn’t be together if you want to.” She bites into her flatbread with an air of finality.

“We don’t want to be together, though. I don’t want to be with him. So… that’s that.”

You can tell they don’t believe you.

Sometimes, you just need to hit something. You’re in the gym, but you’re warming up before going for the punching bag, because you’re a professional.

These last few days have been frustrating. After your breakfast conversation with Tehrani and Anderson you struggled to concentrate on the bridge. You were painfully aware of every move Pike made, whether it was accessing data at the console in his chair, or getting up to check something with science or comms, or joking with Number One. You couldn’t stop asking yourself, is he looking at me differently to everyone else? Am I looking at him in a different way?

And even if you weren’t, you had suddenly woken up again to how handsome he is. To his broad shoulders. To that perfect jaw. To those devastating blue eyes. It’s not that you had ever really forgotten, of course, but now it was so distracting.

You often linger for a chat after evening briefing. You should have lingered to thank him again for letting you host the dinner party. Your eyes even met over the lightning table… But you made sure you left with the crowd.

So when Sullivan wanted someone to train some junior officers whose shooting scores were low— Well. You’re good at shooting. You volunteered.

You spent the next couple of days by turns teaching, coaxing and cajoling junior science and a few operations officers to shoot. Most of them didn’t want to be there, struggling with a skill they didn’t find intuitive or natural. You know they can be better, but your usual methods aren’t quite cutting it.

Still if teaching means you don’t need to go to briefings, don’t need to spend time on the bridge, don’t need to think about how you’re looking at the captain, and how he’s looking at you… if you don’t have to think about things like what you want… then that’s fine.

“How’s it going?” Sullivan asks at lunchtime on day two. You’re eating a protein bar in the security office for efficiency’s sake. You don’t like them really, but sometimes the mess hall can be… a waste of time.

“It’s going. The officers are making progress; It’ll be hard, for Ensign Orlova especially, but they should all make the grade… I just think they need to change the associations they have with shooting. I mean, yeah, sure, it’s something they’re examined on, and something they can only expect to have to do for real in a stressful situation, but it can be fun as well and I don’t think they see that. And if they don’t, we could be right back here in six months, struggling again.”

Sullivan’s eyes warm. He knows you have something you want to try. “And?”

“Velocity tournament. I’m thinking two on two. We can do group stages so each pair gets a decent number of games regardless of skill, and if enough people want to do it, no one will feel like they’re being picked on or singled out.”

“And at worst it should be fun. Yeah, that’s a good idea, Commander. I’ll run it by the captain. Are you going to the movie tonight?”

You meant to go to the film. There’s an unwritten rule that says that ship-wide entertainment like that always falls to the junior security officers. Your projectionist skills are nothing to write home about, but you did your time setting things up in the shuttle bay of the De Milo over a decade ago, and if nothing else you like to support your junior colleagues.

Suzuki had been talking up this evening’s movie, a 20th century classic, he said, called Singing in the Rain, for days. You had to hand it to him; pretty much everyone on alpha shift and a good few on gamma were planning to attend. You weren’t sure if the captain would be there, but if he was… it would be dark. He wouldn’t see you.

However, by the time you’d spent the last of your patience on Orlova, there was no way you were going to be able to sit still for more than an hour watching a musical. Normally the target range would be a place you would go to calm down, but not this evening. Anyway, you hadn’t had a proper cardio session for a couple of days. So, punching.

The gym is empty with everyone at the movie, but that suits you fine. As you stretch, then run through some basic katas, your mind is working. You’ve been avoiding thinking about what Tehrani and Anderson said for long enough; it’s time to face up to things.

You weren’t meaning to be dishonest when you said you didn’t want to be with him, but… the way you’ve been feeling these past few days… the way you’ve felt like you needed to avoid Chris to maintain your equilibrium… the way you’ve avoided your friends… maybe they were right. Maybe you do want more.

You move on to skipping, getting into a rhythm, getting your heart rate up.

If you want more, though… what does that mean? You can’t have more.

He’s still the captain, and he’s been clear in the past about not wanting a relationship with a subordinate. But if you can’t look at him just as a friend…

“Hey, I hoped I’d find you here.” Pike is walking toward you in an ENTER tee to match your own, perfectly fit to highlight his muscles, carrying a water bottle. And it’s all you can do not to trip over your rope.

“Captain, you’re not at the movie?” You say, once you’ve disentangled yourself as gracefully as possible.

He shrugs. “I’ve seen it before. I need a workout. I’ve not seen you for a day or two; I wanted to catch up with you, see how you are. And ask you to partner me in the velocity tournament.” He grins. “Thought I’d better get in there before you get a better offer.”

You stare at him, blank for a moment, before remembering your voice. “So I… I guess Sullivan asked you, then?”

“He did, and I think it’s a great idea. We can always use a little friendly competition. What do you say?”

You should say no. You shouldn’t partner him. For so many reasons. “Yes. I’d be happy to.”

“Excellent. Do you want to practice tonight?”

You shudder, and shake your head. “I spent all day on the range. I love shooting, but I can’t vouch for what I might do if I get a phaser in my hands again so soon.”

“Ensign Orlova was that bad, huh? Sparring then, after I’ve warmed up? Unless you think you were wrong?”

“Excuse me?” You frown.

“You said you could take me. At that gallery. Starbase—Starbase 90. Still think that’s true?”

This is another terrible idea. You should make an excuse, and leave. Instead you tilt your head and shrug, nonchalant. “I guess I’ll give it a go.”

You circle each other, gloves on, hands up in a guard position. The goal is to get your opponent to the mat, and your desire to win is currently overriding any other… desires… you may have.

On the negative side, the captain is taller than you, stronger than you, and has a longer reach. Plus, you’ve never seen him fight.

On the positive side, this is your job, and you’re used to opponents like him. You know he’ll likely be better than most of the people you face; he’s not a renowned tactician for nothing, and he clearly spends time on his physique. But you know the training he’s had inside and out. And he’s never seen you fight. He’ll guess that you’re faster than him, maybe more flexible, but he doesn’t know by how much.

It’s tempting, as you circle each other, you trying to get a feel for how Pike will move, how he will attack, to just try to stay out of reach and attempt to tire him out. But he’ll have seen that tactic before. So you step in and test his guard, letting him make contact on the counterattack, even as you lean away from the pressure of the blow.

You step into his range again and he goes on the offensive. But again, while he connects, you’re ready. You don’t hit back, this time, but you know you could have.

“You’re holding out on me,” Chris says as you circle each other again.

The corner of your mouth raises. “A little? Not anymore.”

And then it’s real. You’re moving together and it’s almost like that nightclub on Risa, almost like a dance, but this time when either of you miss a step you get punished. You were right, you think ruefully, as you circle him – he is good. He attacks again and you dodge just a fraction late and save yourself – just – by leaning right back, one hand touching the floor, before you duck under his next blow and send him off balance. Then you’re back at it again, jab, weave, duck, circle.

Finally, you see a weakness you can exploit. You kick, high, slightly off target, and he tries to come after you with his fist on the counterattack again. But you bring your leg back down and kick again, low, tangling his legs as he moves forward. He tries to save himself but it’s too late: he’s falling and you should be stepping back, celebrating your victory, but somehow he hooks your leg on the way down and you’re falling too.

They air is pushed out of your lungs as you land hard right on top of him. You gasp air back in, somehow unable to move, feeling his body all along yours, feeling his heavy breathing matching your own. You stare to the side, trying not to look at him.

You should get up. Get away. You knew you shouldn’t have said yes to sparring; being this close is doing things to you, and you shouldn’t have let yourself get into this situation at all. But before you can gather yourself, he raises a hand and touches your face, so gently. You gasp softly at the feeling, and drag your gaze over to look into those deep blue eyes.

Those deep blue eyes darkened by desire.

He must see that same desire in your eyes, too.

“We—we should talk,” he manages, finally. “The ready room? Or… my quarters.”

You appreciate that he’s the sort of person who gives you the choice. That you could answer ready room, and tell him that trying to be friends didn’t work out, so you should both go back to a professional distance until it’s a good time for you to transfer off the ship.

But if he weren’t the captain, and if you weren’t a senior officer, you wouldn’t be able to resist kiss him then and there. You push up off the floor and stand, then offer him your hand.

“Your quarters?”

You do stop by your quarters to shower and change into civvies. You hope that taking a little time would quell the fluttering in your stomach, help calm your beating heart. It does neither of those things, but you force yourself not to rush too much to give Chris a little time, too.

The lights are low and Chris stands looking out the window at the stars rushing by, but he turns as you come through the door.

“Hi,” he says, something satisfied in his smile, and you should stop, you should talk, work out exactly what this is going to be between you, but you’re walking into his arms and he’s holding you tight and kissing you.

You knew he could light you up. But you feel like you’re glowing, as bright as one of the blurry strands of warp starlight outside. You kiss him back, hungry, lips parted, your hands rising to touch his chest. Yet somehow, as light as you feel, you also feel grounded. The tension you felt, worrying about whether you could have this is gone; it’s being replaced by a new tension, starting somewhere low.

“We really should talk,” Chris says between kisses, and you know he’s right, but it’s hard to stop. Gradually your kisses gentle, though, and you stand there breathing, foreheads leaning together for a few moments, before he takes your hand and leads you to the couch. You sit, and he doesn’t let go.

“I missed you, these past couple of days. And I thought about why that might be, and I realised...” he takes a soft breath. “I may be the captain, and you may be a subordinate, but I trust you, and I want more. Not just physical, although what we had on Risa, that was a lot of fun, but a relationship. Is that what you want too?”

“I didn’t come here for a one-night stand… that’s not enough for me either. I was avoiding you, because part of me had realised I couldn’t be happy just be friends with you anymore.” You look up into his eyes. “I trust you too, and… I want to be with you, Chris.” You bite your lip, barely able to hide your smile.

Chris smiles back, eyes warm. “There will be challenges. I should tell the admiralty about us, as a courtesy,” he says, running his thumb over the back of your hand. “I’ll give Admiral Cornwell a call tomorrow. I’ll ask Number One to keep an eye on my decision-making, too. And,” he tilts his head and his mouth quirks a little. “I’m the captain. I have a responsibility to the ship and the two hundred and three souls aboard. There will be times when I can’t put you first.”

You nod, serious. “I know. I wouldn’t want you to put me before the Enterprise or her crew.” You shrug. “You—you wouldn’t be you if you did. But also… you can’t try to shelter me. If I’m the right person for a mission, you have to let me go. Even when it’s risky, when it’s dangerous. And…”

“And…?”

 “If this doesn’t work out, you get the Enterprise. I’ll leave on Lizzie.”

“Let’s not plan the ending before we begin, shall we?” Chris smiles that crooked half smile, the one you can’t resist. And as you lean in to kiss him you realise you no longer have to.

This kiss is different again from the ones you’ve shared before. You feel your desire building, but you have time now. Time to make out on the sofa, getting your hands on each other as you climb into his lap. Time to touch those firm muscles, that jawline, that little bit of stubble signifying the end of the day. And then when you’re ready, time to move to Chris’ bedroom.

The sex is different too. You take your time reacquainting yourselves with each other, the things you know you both enjoy, but it’s more intense somehow. The highs are that much higher having this relationship, as new as it is.

And afterward, he pulls you in close. “Stay here tonight. Stay with me.”

“I want to,” you reply, softly. “But I can’t leave here in civvies in the morning.”

“I’m not the captain for nothing. We can synthesise a new uniform. Stay.”

You kiss him, lingering, enjoying the feel of his warm body against yours. “I will,” you murmur into his skin.

You and Chris sit on the couch, coffees and PADDs in hand. You feel fresh in a newly synthesised uniform, and Chris has transformed back into Captain Pike. But you still find yourself touching, making the most of this last bit of intimacy before the day starts properly. He offered to make you breakfast, and you were sorely tempted, but your friends will be expecting you – you can’t avoid them any longer.

Tehrani will have a huge ‘I told you so’ moment when you tell her about you and the captain. And Penny—

You laugh.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know how you feel about telling other people, whether you want to keep us between us for a while, but I was picturing telling Penny. And how she’s going to take credit. If she hadn’t stood me up that day, you would never have spoken to me. We— None of this would have happened.”

“We would have passed like ships in the night. I’m sure you would have made it here, but we wouldn’t have this.” Chris turns to you, blue eyes catching yours. “When you tell her… tell her thank you.”

[elen-aranel]

Chanced Chapter 1: Starbase 52

Pairing: Christopher Pike x F!Reader (no Y/N) Warnings: Starbases. Is that a reasonable warning? WC: 3k Notes: this started as a 5+1 things type situation, but the +1 ran long. It’s a prequel to another fic but I’ll leave it to you to find that one if you want! Rating: Mature for moments in later chapters Summary: You look up as someone comes through the door; a tall, handsome someone, dark haired, wearing a plain grey shirt and black trousers but with an upright, Starfleet bearing.

Masterlist • Next Chapter >

Starbase 52, 2241

Starbase 52 is large. The largest base you’ve docked at personally, you think, as you hail station control and wait to get an approach vector assigned. It’s tall, grey, and circular, bulbous in parts, in orbit of a gas giant. There are rings of windows round the station, and nebulous plumes of green-blue gas gently flare against it every minute or two, making the shields sparkle orange.

Normally you would enjoy a view like this, watching the other ships flying round the station too, but today you just want to get docked. You’re on your first leave since you got your commission, and you’re due to meet your best friend Penny for a catch up. And you’re going to see Space Sister together, the coolest band in the quadrant. Your fellow junior officers on the De Milo had been so jealous. There were attempted bribes. People volunteering to take your duty shifts if you would take them with you. But this is yours and Penny’s special thing. You watched bootleg holos of them when you were teens, before you joined the academy, and she got her own little cargo ship. You know all their songs by heart.

“Starbase 52 to Shuttle Lizzie Bennet. You are cleared to dock at port 35 on the third ring. Please follow the vector assigned.”

“Acknowledged,” you reply, pressing buttons to route the course transmission to your navigation computer, flipping switches to activate it. Soon you’ll be with Penny, at the concert, having the time of your life.

You love your little ship, the Lizzie Bennet. You had to get special dispensation to keep her with you in Starfleet, but she was your inheritance, in a way. A gift from your parents who still hoped you’d join them in the family freight business. She’s small – shuttle sized – but sturdy, engines well able to keep up with the average shuttle, even in the fleet, but she’s older. You need to update her synthesisers, and there is absolutely no chance of cooking fresh food in that tiny space. So your first priorities on docking are finding food, and finding Penny.

You’re in civvies, something stylish but comfortable. Wearing them helps you drop your Starfleet posture and disappear into the crowd. That, and doing your hair. You’ll put it back at the end of your leave but for now it’s pale pink, the same colour as the band’s bassist, Rosa Nebula, and out of the utilitarian style you have it in for work. Penny hasn’t seen it like this yet – you’re hoping it’ll make her laugh.

You have your PADD in a cleverly disguised pocket where you can feel it, make sure it’s not going to be lifted by any of the pickpockets you’re sure must work the promenade. Your eye for this kind of thing has been honed as a security officer, but you’ve been around places like this all your life. You can see the people, all different species, pretending to be busy, but actually eyeing up the passing foot traffic.

And there is a lot of foot traffic.

A few Starfleet officers in navy uniforms, walking around purposefully, clearly at work. Groups of Starfleet officers wearing civvies, on downtime – you can tell by their bearing, the way they always act so confident, as though they own the place, that that’s what they are. Civilians: a mix of traders, diplomats, and just regular people here in transit or here for the concert. At least four other people with the same colour hair as you in this section alone.

And the shops. Even you have to take a moment to admire the store displays on either side of you. Holo-mannequins showing off the latest clothes, in all styles, traditional for various different cultures and the latest fashions. A colourful store with bright lights selling toys. Understated displays of luxury goods – jewellery and perfume from across the Federation and further afield. And of course, food places.

Your directory told you that fine dining is on the upper promenade (and for those well enough off, there’s another more exclusive tier after that), but even on this level… your stomach grumbles as you go past an Andorian fast food place. Your mouth waters as you smell Kohlanese stew wafting out from a different cafe as you pass.

But your goal, the first place you eat on any Starbase that has one, and the place you will meet up with Penny, is Miller’s Sandwiches. You heard your grandfather might have known the Mr Miller that started it, but it’s one of those places, with an unassuming front, that if you know, you know.

Even inside it doesn’t look all that different from any other sandwich shop, with its counter taking up one wall, and tables and chairs and booths in the rest of the room. But their food is all fresh. Their supply chain boggles your mind (and is one of the reasons you went into Starfleet rather than the family business), but wherever you go to a Miller’s you get perfect fresh baked bread, never more than a few hours old. Crisp salad leaves which taste as though they came straight from the market garden this morning. Sharp cheeses. Perfectly cooked meats. Charcuterie transported across the quadrant from Earth. It isn’t fancy, and it’s odd to call it a taste of home because Earth isn’t your home, not really. But nothing is synthesised and everything is real, and it’s the kind of food that you would make for lunch, if you had a kitchen on Lizzie Bennett, or on the De Milo.

You scan the tables. It’s late for lunch, station time, and there are plenty of spaces. Penny isn’t here yet, but you had expected to be the first one to arrive. You smile at the server as she prepares your sandwich. You’ve had plenty of time to work out what you want; you thought about going for something more elaborate than usual, and you even tried to prepare yourself mentally for them not having your favourites – fresh food is never guaranteed. But as you take your sandwich and mug of Earl Grey to a table with a good view of the entrance you feel satisfied. This is exactly what you’ve been looking forward to. You inhale, smelling the bread, and it tastes just as good as it smells as you take a bite. You and Penny will probably have fancier food while you’re here, but this is a perfect start.

You get your PADD and communicator out when you’ve finished the first half of your sandwich. You rigged them up together so you could take video calls; station comms in general and in public areas in particular are a bit dodgy. You look up as someone comes through the door; a tall, handsome someone, dark haired, wearing a plain grey shirt and black trousers but with an upright, Starfleet bearing. Not Penny, for sure. She’s short, slight and blonde. You wonder where she is. You return your attention to your PADD, and check your messages. There’s one from Penny, five minutes ago.

“I’m so sorry. I tried, I really tried, but an ion storm hit us in the Carrera sector. Factor 5. Came out of nowhere and took out all our primary systems. I’ve only just got enough on comms back to send this message; I feel awful that I can’t even call you live.” Penny shakes her head, blonde hair messy and tangled, face streaked with grease and dirt, jumpsuit ripped. “When I have propulsion up I’m going to have to go to straight to Gamma Gemini IV or I’ll lose this shipment, and… I know you understand. I’ll call you when I can. I’m sorry to miss the concert but I’m even more sorry to miss you, I—well. I’ll call you. Love you babe.” She waves with a half-hearted smile before the screen goes dark.

You sigh, tears welling up in your eyes despite yourself. You hadn’t realised how much you were counting on seeing a friendly face after all this time. You chose Starfleet, and you’re doing what you want to do, but it is hard, being the most junior, learning the ropes, and the thought of seeing your friend had got you through the last month or two.

You stare down at the other half of your sandwich. Suddenly it doesn’t seem appetising anymore. You pick a little bit off the bread and put it in your mouth, but before where it was savoury and delicious, now it tastes of nothing. You should really recycle it. You think about the tickets to the show later… is there even any point in going if you can’t be with your friend?

“Excuse me?” Your pity party is interrupted by a deep voice, and you look up into the handsome face of the man you noticed earlier.

“Yes?” Your voice comes out unfriendly, but you’re past caring.

“Can I—?” He motions to put his tray down, and you stare, obviously, at all the other empty tables he could have picked, before returning your gaze to him.

“I’m not going to stop you,” you say, and thumb off your PADD, going to return it to your pocket. He sits, and… yeah. You might as well leave. “I’m going now anyway, so sure. Have the table.” You move to take your tray.

“Wait, are you just going to recycle your sandwich? Come on. This is Miller’s. You know that’s a waste.” He smiles a little – only a wisp of a thing – but it’s charming somehow. You know he’s right, and you put the tray back down. “I knew you’d make the right choice.” He picks up his black coffee and takes a sip. “I’m sure a girl like you gets unwanted attention all the time, and I wouldn’t usually add to that. But… when I came in, you were happily eating, yet by the time my food was ready you were almost in tears. I know it’s none of my business, and you can tell me to go to hell if you want to, but I have to ask: are you okay?”

You look into his wide blue eyes. You like to think you’re pretty good at reading people, and you know you can handle anyone if they cross the line. You study him and you just see sincerity there. You frown a little. Maybe you would feel better if you talked.

“My best friend… we were supposed to go to the concert later.”

“Space Sister? Figured you were here for them—your hair. But that’s a hot ticket. What happened?”

“She had to bail. An ion storm hit her ship. Factor 5.”

He winces. “Is she okay?”

“Her ship’s in one piece, but she can’t make it here now. Cargo.” He nods, expression sympathetic, and suddenly you just want to talk. “I miss her, you know? We grew up together and I never see her, and I was looking forward to it so much, and now who knows how long it’ll be? I can’t reroute to meet her; my next stop is in the opposite direction. And I’m thinking I’m just going to go back to my ship and leave.”

He nods. “You could do that. But would your friend really want you to give up your treat here because she has to? I don’t know her – I don’t know you – but… even if it’s not what you hoped, I’m sure you can find a way to have a little enjoyment while you’re here. You could start with that sandwich – if you leave, when are you going to get another one that’s as good?” He raises his brow at you, and you shrug, pick up the sandwich and take a bite. And while it may not taste as good as it did when you were full of happiness and excitement, it’s still pretty good. Despite yourself you sigh, satisfied.

“I guess you’re right,” you say when you’ve finished your mouthful.

“Not the enthusiasm I was looking for, but I’ll take it,” he says, starting in on his own sandwich. “I’m Christopher, by the way. Chris. It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too.”

You introduce yourself, and get to chatting over your food. And it isn’t the same as being with Penny, but as you talk about the band, and your favourite songs by them (you’ve yet to meet anyone who didn’t like at least some of their music), and your sandwiches and the difficulty of cooking in space, you find yourself feeling better.

“Hey so… are you doing anything later?” You ask as he finishes his coffee. “It’s just I seem to have this spare ticket and it’d be a shame for it to go to waste…”

He smiles, but it goes a little rueful. “I really wasn’t trying to pick you up, you know. I’m free; I’m only here until tomorrow, when I have to—not important. I’m not saying I’d never pick up a cute girl in a sandwich shop but… It’s not normally my style and I don’t think that’s what you need.”

“You’re right. I don’t need a date. But… I could use a friend. How about it?”

“Yes. I could be your friend. I’d love to come.”

“Cool. Do you want to meet back here before it starts? Half an hour before?”

“Well, if I’m going to be a substitute for your friend, what would you have done with her this afternoon?”

You skip the clothes shopping; you’re not ready to get opinions on dresses from a virtual stranger. But although you would really like to update your synthesiser, you know you need to replace your aft starboard plasma manifold, because manoeuvring into your dock was an… interesting experience. And that’s how you end up buying starship parts with Chris.

“You should try microfusion thrusters. They’re much more reliable,” he says, a sleek-looking assembly in his hand.

“Do I look like I’m made of credits?” You laugh. “Yes, I’m always replacing thruster manifolds, but I don’t even know how the microfusion ones work. The only thing I know about them is that they can explode. And they’re like… ten times as expensive?”

“They’re worth it, though. I worked with them in a shuttle design I tested and they handle like a dream. No explosions in thousands of hours logged through the project.”

“So you’re a test pilot?”

“Not anymore. But it was a fun assignment.” He hands you a component you don’t recognise. “A nano-manifold resonator. Not as expensive as a microfusion thruster, but it pre-filters the plasma so the manifolds should last longer, even if you don’t get the handling benefits. Easy to install, too, the engineers tell me.”

You turn it round in your hands. It seems straightforward; you can see how you’d fit it into the thruster assembly.

“All right, I’ll try it. But I’ll send the bill to you if it burns out.”

“Deal.”

The afternoon passes quickly; Chris is good company. After starship parts you move on to alcohol. Real drinks – not synthehol – are always popular on the De Milo, you’ve found, and you figure if you have some you should increase your popularity on the ship. Chris is knowledgeable on them too, steering you toward Antarean brandy and whiskeys distilled on Earth.

“This your ship?” Chris looks at Lizzie Bennet with a practiced eye as you return to her to stow your acquisitions. “What is she, a cargo corvette? Class 2? Class 1? Bet she was fast in her day.”

“Class 1b. She can keep up now. And she can give you at least second degree burns with her phasers, so y’know. Be careful.”

He laughs. “Noted.”

“I’ll just dump my stuff then we can get going… I’d ask you in but it’s pretty cramped inside.”

He gives you a small smile, understanding, and you step in. You stow your acquisitions in a storage bin, and fire off a quick message to Penny.

“So sad you can’t make it. Totally understand, I hope your cargo is okay and you get paid. Still going to go to the concert but it won’t be the same. Even found someone else to go with — will tell you all about it when we can have a proper comm. Take care babe.”

The concert is magical. The hall is huge, and they’ve installed screens on the walls, ceilings, and floors – every flat surface, it seems like. And from the first chord you’re transported to another world. You sing at the top of your voice, and on the most popular songs Chris does too, the energy of everyone enjoying themselves, singing and dancing, buoying you up.

“Thank you so much for today.” you tell Chris over a late dinner of perfectly cooked steak and béarnaise sauce. You savour it; as much as you love to cook when you get the chance you’ve never made this; you know how hard it is to do right. “Cheering me up, the concert, this dinner, which—you’re right. This is the best steak in the sector. In multiple sectors.”

“You’re welcome. I’m glad I took pity on you, too. I would never have gotten tickets otherwise.” He winks, smiling that wide, warm smile. “But seriously. It’s good to make a new friend.”

You nod. “It is.”

“Who is he?” Penny’s hair is back in its usual neat braid, her ship looking… shipshape.

“Excuse me?”

“The guy you took to the concert. Who is he? And did you… you know?”

“I didn’t—”

“We’ve known each other all our lives. I can read between the lines of your cryptic messages. Did you?”

“It wasn’t like that, Penny. He was genuinely just a friend for the day. We didn’t do anything; you know that’s not my style, and I don’t think it was his either. I’ll never see him again, anyway.”

She raises a sceptical brow. “If you say so… But anyway. I have some news. I wanted to tell you in person, but…”

[elen-aranel]

Chanced Chapter 5: Starbase 114

Pairing: Christopher Pike x F!Reader (no Y/N) Warnings: Mentions of sex. Holidays. WC: 5k Taglist: @fzziiee​  (if you'd like to be tagged, please let me know <3) Notes: Sometimes you have to take a chance to get what you want Rating: Mature Summary: “I have a ship.” The words are out of your mouth before you really think them through, and you look down at the bar for a second while you gather your thoughts. But… Yes. You like him as a person, and he’s always behaved like a gentleman toward you. You trust him. You know becoming captain of the most prestigious ship in the fleet is not a hundred percent guarantee of character, but you also know you can protect yourself. And there’s always been that spark…

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Starbase 114, 2250

Starbase 114 has parts you need for Lizzie Bennet, your little ship. And that’s really the only thing it has going for it. You can’t even get a good sandwich – there isn’t a Miller’s here. You’re not sure why, because it’s not one of the older bases, but everything is a bit grim and rundown. No one seems to want to be here.

But you won’t be here for long. There is one other thing in this base’s favour: it’s only a few hours from Risa. Lizzie needs fuel – deuterium and dilithium – and a couple of components that you couldn’t fabricate on the Cooper to renew her space-worthiness certificate. Work is well in hand, and soon she will be re-certified and you will be sipping a Risan mai-tai, watching the suns set.

You love the Cooper, your crew there and the work you do. Exploration is your favourite part, even though that isn’t often, but you enjoy other missions too. You’re often in the background while command and science officers do the real work, but occasionally you get to take the lead. You love it so much you haven’t taken leave in quite a while – just a couple of days when you were able to meet up with Penny and Cameron on her new ship when the Cooper was at Ardana, and an afternoon with your parents on Starbase 83.

All work and no play makes you a dull girl though, and the stress of trying to keep other people safe mounts up eventually. You’ve even wound up in sickbay several times in the past few months. You don’t mind; injury comes with the territory, and much better you than someone else. But you’re ready for a break from that for a little while.

You’re sitting looking out of the slightly dirty viewport of a large observation lounge, watching the stars and ships as they approach or leave the station. There are all sorts, mostly small: Starfleet and civilian ships from different planets.

And as you sit your eyes light on your reflection: you take in your hair dyed a cool silver, your pale blue tunic, the silver chain round your neck, and you see a normal person. Someone who isn’t responsible for anyone around her. Someone who has laid that weight aside. You need this. Risa has a bit of a wild reputation, but there’s lots to see and do. And while you’re not looking for wild, per se, you can handle yourself and… it’s been a while since you were with someone. You’re not seeking anything out, particularly, but if an opportunity finds you, you won’t complain.

You finger your silver star pendant as you look out at the stars and ships again, and wonder vaguely what Chris might be up to these days. Whether he’s exploring somewhere new.

But your attention is pulled by a civilian transport that has just dropped out of warp. It’s long, grey, and boxy; you always think they look a bit awkward, but something about this one seems off. It’s approaching too fast, and definitely on the wrong vector – it’s much too close to that little Starfleet shuttle ahead of it, which is already being tractored on its final approach to a docking bay. You frown. Cameron could steer it better, even with the awkward shape, and he’s only eight.

Is there something wrong with the thrusters? Jets of gas are firing off too brightly in orange and blue on the starboard side; they must be trying to compensate for something, but it doesn’t seem to be working. You find you’re standing to get a better view as the transport’s speed slows, but not enough, with the shuttle caught in the beam, powerless to do anything. Why doesn’t the station tractor the transport?

The hum of chatter around you has quieted; everyone is watching in horror as the transport tries one last burn to course correct. You think it’s going to work; you can see the thrusters firing, but at a much lower level. The transport straightens up, almost back on the correct course. But suddenly the thrusters flare bright, much too bright, and it’s spinning, crashing silently into the shuttle. Your hands fly to your mouth – the transport, with its thicker hull, will likely be fine, but did the shuttle pilot beam out? A tractor beam fires, finally, securing the transport, and—

Force fields. You can see force fields protecting the cabin of the shuttle. You breathe out a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding, and a ripple of relieved applause flows across your fellow travellers: the shuttle pilot will be okay.

Show over, you sigh and sit back down with your PADD in hand. You’re glad that most of the work on Lizzie will have been done by now, but two damaged ships coming in mean things will be delayed. You imagine all the engineers the on the base will want to take a look, at least. You’ll read a book for a bit while you wait to hear how much longer Lizzie will be.

You’ve been walking round the promenade, looking for somewhere to eat—get a drink— something— for a while now. Starbases do have a day, but incoming ships are often out of sync with it, so as well as drab looking shops and run-down cafés, you’ve walked past bars with loud music and restaurants serving synthesised dinners. None of them appealed, but the worst was the one where you could hear a loud, flat, karaoke rendition of what was one of your favourite Space Sister songs as you went by. You quickened your pace to get out of earshot.

You try to think if you’ve had any recommendations for anywhere on this base, but most people you know wouldn’t have a reason to stop here. But eventually you find a little bar that’s not too dark and not too loud, with a couple of people in fleet uniforms sitting at various tables. It’s a bit early for a drink for you, but, you figure, you’re on holiday.

The bartender gives you a friendly smile as you walk in. “What’ll it be, love?” She asks as you take a stool. You scan the bottles behind her, and you see one you recognise.

“Hanrian—no. Hin—”

“Hinarian white gin, please. One for the lady and one me.”

That deep, assured voice. It can’t be. But it is. “Chris! I never—It is so good to see you!”

You jump down from the stool, turning to face him.

“We did say Starbase 114,” he quirks a crooked smile, shrugging slightly, and you laugh as you step into a hug, enjoying the contact. His hands are still holding your shoulders gently as you separate, and you take in his appearance. He’s as handsome as ever, although his perfectly styled hair has a couple of threads of silver in it.

“I thought you were going to stand me up. I was thinking about you earlier, actually. But I imagined you on the frontier somewhere, making discoveries…”

“No, I’m—You’re wearing it,” he says softly. Your confusion must show on your face because he clarifies: “The necklace. You’re wearing the necklace I gave you.”

He moves his hand across to touch the star at the same time you reach up to the necklace, and just for a second there’s a spark as your fingers touch his warm ones, before he drops both of his hands down by his side.

“Oh, um, yes.” you feel the cool points of the star on your fingertips. “I like it. I wear it often… it’s special. And… we did say Starbase 114.”

“I’m glad,” he says, blue eyes warm. You sit back on your stool, and Chris sits next to you, arm brushing yours as he reaches for his drink.

“How are you? How’s the Enterprise? I didn’t see her on the docking list?”

“The Enterprise is great. She’s in dock for refits; we’re between five-year missions. I’m actually set to re-join her soon… as her captain. Still can’t quite believe it,” he adds, shaking his head.

“Congratulations!” You raise your glass, clinking it with his. “I can. Four pips on your badge?”

“Stripes on my wrist — we’re getting new uniforms. Think I’m going to miss the blue, though. But how are you? How’s the Cooper?”

“The Cooper is good. Very good, actually. I made full Lieutenant a few months ago. But it was time for a break, and Lizzie needed maintenance… I thought I’d be gone by now, but there was that accident with the transport and a shuttle, so things are a bit delayed. Glad I’m not, now you’re here,” you add, taking another sip of your drink, enjoying the spice.

“So… er… that shuttle?” His tone makes you turn sharply.

“No. You were not the pilot. My gosh are you okay? I was watching through a viewport; my heart was in my mouth…” You examine him again, trying to see if there’s any evidence of his ordeal on view that you missed.

“They checked me out in sickbay and the base commander lent me some quarters to get cleaned up, get a fresh uniform,” he says, seeing you study him. “I wasn’t even due to dock here – I got hit by a nano-meteor in subspace and it damaged the warp engines, so I had to reroute to get them fixed. And then the transport. They’re still assessing whether the shuttle’s worth fixing, or if it’s just going to be scrapped.” He sighs.

“I thought it looked bad, but scrapped? Wow.”

“Yes. The two things together caused a lot of damage. Today isn’t my day. Originally I was en route to Casperia to meet up with friends – you remember Leland? But he called to say they can’t make it now. Classified.” He shrugs, and takes another sip of his drink.

“I’ll get a transport back to Earth, celebrate with Tango and Mary Lou instead.” He shakes his head. “But enough of my bad day; plenty of good ones to come. And even today has a silver lining.”

“I have a ship.” The words are out of your mouth before you really think them through, and you look down at the bar for a second while you gather your thoughts. But… Yes. You like him as a person, and he’s always behaved like a gentleman toward you. You trust him. You know becoming captain of the most prestigious ship in the fleet is not a hundred percent guarantee of character, but you also know you can protect yourself. And there’s always been that spark…

“I have a ship, and… I’m going to take leave on Risa for a week. If you aren’t wedded to your Earth plan, would you like to come too? There’s a lot to see and do on the planet, I could just take you there, let you make your own arrangements, but…”

You take a breath, and look up, into his eyes. “I don’t know if there’s anyone in your life; there’s no one in mine. I like you and… if you would like to spend your leave with me, or even just the first night, you would be welcome.”

The moment holds – you’ve clearly taken him by surprise, and you worry that you’ve said the wrong thing, that you’ve managed to spoil this—this friendship that you’ve developed, over the years.

“There isn’t anyone. There hasn’t been for a while.” He smiles a little, looking sidelong at you as he raises his glass again. “Yes, I would like to come to Risa with you.”

“Would you mind if I—”

“Do you want to—”

You both laugh as you speak at the same time. You’re heading into Lizzie’s little cockpit, you having got your certificate, fuel and parts, and Chris having got his luggage, which thankfully survived the crash.

“You first,” Chris says, gesturing for you to continue.

“I just wondered if you’d like to take Lizzie out? Ensign Umer –  pilot on the Cooper – said it’s important to get back to flying after a crash so you don’t build it up in your head.”

“That, and she looks like she’ll be fun to fly. That was what I was going to ask. Thank you.” You open the door and take the co-pilot chair. “Is there anything I need to watch for?” He asks as he begins going through the pre-flight checks.

“Yeah, I remapped the thruster control switches. I just find they’re easier to handle this way.”

You reach across him to a bank of red buttons, brushing against his hand as you do. You smile a little at the contact, and how it makes you feel.

“Port and starboard, fore, mid, and aft. I think it’s easier this way round. See what you think. Oh and the computer’s wake word is Lizzie.”

Chris laughs at that. “Of course it is. Did you name her? Commander Pike to ops, clearance for shuttle Lizzie Bennet to leave the station, please?”

“I think one of my grandparents was the Jane Austen fan, originally. Not sure. My parents’ ship is the Pemberley, and they named Lizzie to continue the tradition. Elizabeth Bennet was always my favourite Austen heroine, though.”

“Ops to Commander Pike, clearance granted. Please follow the vector assigned. Ops out.”

“Probably a good thing they named her really because I don’t know what name I’d have picked at eighteen.”

“Hmm. I’m going to go with Rosa Nebula,” Chris fires the thrusters. “Hearing that karaoke bar on the lower promenade…”

You roll your eyes. “Wow. You’ve known me too long—hey! Gently!” You exclaim as Lizzie jerks into motion.

“Sorry, didn’t expect that,” he says, adjusting the controls. “Ships this age don’t usually respond this well.”

“It’s your fault, you know. Microfusion thrusters. They really made a difference to her handling.”

He smiles, corners of his eyes crinkling. “You listened.”

“Of course.”

Once the course is set to Risa you retire to the cabin. There are lines you won’t cross in the little ship, not when you’re headed to Risa, but you’re touching at every chance you get. You bump into each other as Chris steps round you to change out of his uniform in the tiny bathroom. Your fingers brush against him as you show him where the synthesiser is. You feel that desire building. Even while eating the chicken tuna sandwiches that he makes, which are… not as bad as you expected.

“So does Lizzie have a transporter?” Chris asks as you drop out of warp into orbit of the planet.

“Yes, but it can only handle one person at a time. I never use it. Do you want to bring her into land? I have the co-ordinates…”

Risa looks beautiful, and you feel relaxed as Chris steers you through the atmosphere, away from the blue-green sunward side into the dark. You keep half an eye on the sensors, but it isn’t necessary; Chris may not have been a test pilot for a long time, but those skills haven’t gone away.

He lands Lizzie in the exact centre of the shuttle pad, with only the tiniest bump to let you know you’re on solid ground.

Outside is dark and warm, the moons glowing in the sky, and you can hear the soft lap of waves on an ocean you can’t yet see. You can smell the ocean, too, but mixed with earthy and floral scents from plants that are still dark shadows. The shuttle pad is edged in tiny lights which lead toward a path, the dark silhouette of your villa at the end of it. You and Chris head in that direction, cases in hand.

You don’t get far before you hear footsteps approaching, and a Risian man approaches, smiling warmly.

“Welcome to Risa, we’re delighted to have you. I am Curmal,” he clicks a control, “and this is your villa.” The building you could almost see in front of you lights up, revealing a large bungalow, roof sloping down to large French glass doors, with warm light spilling out over what you can now see is a garden surrounding a little pool with a fountain playing.

Chris whistles. “Fancy… I was expecting a hotel.”

“But this way I get private shuttle parking.”

“Please, no need to carry your bags. If you’ll allow me?” You and Chris place your cases where Curmal indicates, and he puts a fob on them before pressing his control again. They disappear in a sparkle of blue transporter energy.

“You will find your luggage in your closet. Please step this way.” He leads the way along the path toward the back of the bungalow, and you take Chris’ proffered arm and follow.

“Privacy is assured, madam,” Curmal continues, “and all the amenities of a hotel are available to you just a short walk away, sir. The full resort guide is on the computer, but we have a spa, restaurants, bars. And anything you require can be brought here, or transported, entirely at your pleasure. You can also ask the computer for anything you need in the villa.” He steps up to the French window. “The villa is programmed for your access already, madam, but sir, if you could—”

You step away from Chris as he and Curmal program his finger and voice prints into the villa’s computer. You’re feeling… you’re not sure. You have a few nerves; you’ve had casual encounters in the past, and most weren’t especially fulfilling. But with Chris… the attraction is not just to his looks or his body, as handsome as he is. It’s the man he’s shown himself to be.

“One last thing,” Curmal says, picking up a small wooden statue from beside the door. “This is a horga'hn. Take it with you, if you wish to seek jamaharon.”

You meet Chris’ eyes, and he returns your knowing smile; clearly he’s heard the stories too. “I don’t think we’ll need it. But thank you,” you say as Curmal hands it to you.

He bows slightly. “It would also make a good decoration. I will leave you now, but if you need anything, please let me or another staff member know.”

He walks a little way along the path as you press the control for the door, but you barely register the whine of the transport because as soon as you put statue down Chris takes you in his arms, door closing behind you.

The kiss tastes different to your first one.

Then you were saying we wish we could have this.

This time, you both know you can.

It starts gentle, but you’re both hungry for it. Your lips part and your tongues tangle, and you feel that light, that burn again as his hand slips down your back. But this time, as you touch his face, run your hand through his perfect hair, you can fan it to flames.

“Your shots up to date? Mine are,” he murmurs against your lips when you finally pause for breath.

“Yes. Want this,” you say, and you’re kissing again, almost desperate. You had planned to offer him champagne when you got here, drink a toast to celebrate his promotion. You had thought you’d at least have a look around the villa, maybe see more of the outside. But he’s backing you through the open doorway to the bedroom, and you’re more than happy to go.

You’re down to your underwear, yours and Chris’s clothes in an inelegant jumble on the floor, and you pause for a moment, just breathing. The light in here is soft and warm, just bright enough to highlight Chris’ muscles. You take him in: hair mussed from your fingers, blue eyes hot, kissed lips and the barest hint of stubble along his jaw. It’s bright enough for him to see you, too, and you can feel his gaze like a caress, desire written clearly across his face.

Then you’re together again, skin to skin, and you can’t wait for more as he drops to his knees.

You stretch as you wake, feeling comfortable, content, and warm. Warm from the body snuggled against your back. From the arm holding you close.

You think back to last night, and how Chris had made it his mission to find out what turns you on, what makes you gasp, how to make your body sing for him. How he had shivered at your touch. And how it felt when you came apart together.

You don’t think it’s been quite this good with anyone else.

Tiny beams of bright sunlight are escaping round the edges of the curtains, promising a beautiful day outside, but you turn away from them toward Chris, who is blinking his eyes sleepily.

“’Morning,” he says, voice gravelly from sleep, and he smiles as you reach out and touch his lips.

“Hi,” you say, soft, as he kisses your finger, and tightens his arm around you. You feel desire stirring within you again, and really, you think, as you press against him, replacing your finger with your lips, what better way to start your first day on the planet?

Wearing Chris’ shirt is a cliché, but it was on top of the pile of clothes, the fabric is soft, and it smells of him.

You’re part exploring, part in search of coffee.

“Computer, open the curtains,” you say, twirling around, trying to take the view out of both sides of the large room in at once as the white fabric pulls back. You can see the garden you came in through last night, flowers in reds, yellows and pinks looking vivid in the sunlight, and on the other side, a wide deck and then the ocean.

You can see the room better too. It’s spacious, light, with a corner sofa on one side, where you can sit and watch the ocean, or the screen on the wall. There are chairs and a table on the other side near the ocean window, and two stools and breakfast bar by the kitchen area, which, as you investigate further, seems surprisingly functional. There’s a synthesiser, of course, but also a coffee machine, a hob, and an oven. You vaguely remember the brochure when you booked the place saying you could have a chef come and cook Risian specialities.

You open all the cupboards and find some coffee beans, and you put them into the machine, which starts grinding them quietly. You perch on one of the bar stools while you wait, enjoying the coffee scent as it fills the room. There’s a computer screen here, and you tap through the breakfast options before you find something perfect. You smile, satisfied.

“Do I smell coffee?” Chris pads in from the bedroom, looking good in just his boxers. You manage to clear the computer screen before he comes round behind you, putting his arms round you, bending to kiss your neck.

“It’s brewing. There’s a real coffee maker. The whole kitchen is real, actually – I’ve just been having a look. It’s meant for a staff chef, but I haven’t cooked in ages. I was wondering if I could order some ingredients.”

“I have a kitchen in my quarters on the Enterprise. The synthesiser’s good, but it’s not the same. Ask Curmal; I sure he’d be happy to get raw ingredients for you.”

“Yeah, maybe I will. I ordered breakfast already, though. They’re beaming it out onto the deck in about half an hour. Time for coffee and a shower first…?”  You twist round to look at him, raising an eyebrow.

“Sounds like a plan. And nice shirt,” he adds with a small smile, sliding a hand under it.

It seems incredibly decadent to be sitting either side of a wooden table, suns in the sky, ocean softly lapping beside you, with the sound of distant seabirds carrying over the water, while you wait for breakfast to literally materialise in front of you.

But it’s not like this is your everyday life.

In your everyday life you don’t have sun loungers, or a large, heated pool recessed into the deck right outside the French doors from your bedroom, which feels like it’s an extension of the ocean. You don’t have palm trees. And you don’t have a small flight of wooden steps leading down to your own private section of a pristine white sand beach.

Even so—

“Champagne?” Chris asks with a smile, as a bottle in an ice bucket on a stand materialises by you, and a crisp white cloth appears on the table.

“Champagne breakfast,” you say, as the flutes and food materialise. There’s fruit – bowls of berries: strawberries, blueberries, and other fruit we you don’t recognise. There’s French toast dusted with cinnamon sugar. Stacks of mini pancakes. Muffins and pastries. Eggs Benedict. Little quiche-like bites, and some other Risian specialities. “I wanted to toast your promotion… I thought we could do that when we got here, but we were… too busy last night.”

You take the bottle and pop the cork, then pour the drinks.

“To Starfleet’s newest captain. May the solar winds fill your sails, and may all your landfalls be expected.” He grins as you clink glasses, and you take a sip, enjoying the bubbles. “How are you feeling about it? Being the one in charge?”

“Ready,” he says, after a moment. “It will be a challenge… and I know that people will be watching. But the Enterprise… she’s the best ship in the fleet. The best crew. And getting to be the person that leads them… I couldn’t ask for anything more.” He picks up a small plate. “Is this caviar?”

“I did see that on the menu…”

You don’t see much of Risa, at least to begin with. Besides the sex, definitely the best you’ve had in… forever, you both need time to relax, and you have space to do that here. Space for soaking up sunlight on the deck. Watching – trying to watch – a film together on the sofa. Enjoying a double sunset with a glass of wine in the pool.

Eventually, though, you do venture out. You dive a reef in Suraya Bay, and swim with the Risian equivalent of dolphins, followed by fresh caught seafood for dinner from the restaurant boat moored just off the beach. You dance at one of the nightclubs, enjoying the energy all around you, but knowing who you’ll be leaving with at the end of the night.

You skydive, loving the rush – it’s not the first time, for either of you, but it’s so much different doing it just for fun rather than for a training exercise. You love how it feels like flying, high up in the air in freefall, and the view after you’ve deployed your parachute, over forests and the sea, is stunning. You love the satisfaction of landing perfectly on your feet, and you try not to look too smug as you offer Chris a hand up after he misses his footing. Later you sneak a kiss in the subterranean gardens beneath a tree that glows.

You do enjoy doing those touristy things, but you enjoy the calm of the villa, just being together, more.

“I used to pop a conduit open on the Pemberley, and brown these with the plasma,” you say one evening, wielding a torch over the crème brûlées you made for dessert.

“No you didn’t,” Chris says, brow raised, mouth quirked in amusement. He hasn’t shaved since he got here, and while you do like the clean cut look on him, the slightly rugged look of his stubble definitely does something for you too.

“Yes I did. Okay—once. And it did brown… well. Blacken. And then the ramekin shattered, and I cut up my hands so badly I couldn’t hide the bleeding from my parents. These are much better.” You smile, admiring your handiwork.

Chris shakes his head before pouring out the dessert wine. “There’s something to be said for a kitchen on a planet. You can still have accidents, but…”

“I suppose you can’t be quite that reckless. But on the other hand, you can’t eject your cooking fails out an airlock… Mmm. I’ve missed these.” You close your eyes, savouring the smooth sweet vanilla flavour, and the crunch of the caramel.

You had chosen to make ravioli for your main course – Curmal had provided all the ingredients, and you enjoy the process of making pasta. When you’d had the chance to cook in the past it had mostly been alone – once you were old enough to be trusted in the small galley on the Pemberley your parents left you to it, and you didn’t have anyone to cook with in your little kitchen on Starbase 58. But Chris had come in from outside, looked at the recipe and got stuck in. Weighing out ingredients, chopping. Working with him felt so natural, as you passed things back and forth, and chatted about how best to adapt the filling to the local ingredients you had. The results are delicious, and you love getting to eat outside in the warm Risian evening, too.

“There’ve been a few things I’ve made on the Enterprise that I’ve wanted to recycle. Airlock seems a bit extreme, though. You ever cook on the Cooper?”

“Not often. Only if I’m on Alpha and I can’t sleep – the galley is usually pretty quiet during Gamma. But I’ll bake something easy like oatmeal cookies, then whoever’s around can have them as a post shift snack or an early breakfast.”

“Perhaps we can bake some here before we leave. I have my eye on the grill too, though.”

“I’ve never had a cookout. I’ve spent almost all my life in space,” you add, at his shocked expression.

“Not even at the academy? I’m remedying that.”

You spend your last afternoon laying on a lounger on the deck, the feel of the suns on your skin, the calm of the ocean waves and a gentle breeze through the garden lulling you into an almost meditative state. This is your happy place, you think, trying to memorise details like the feel of the fine cotton of the cushions. The smell of your sunscreen. This is where you will come to when things get stressful.

“The shuttle’s a write-off,” Chris says, handing you a drink as he comes to sit on the other lounger. “But there’s a transport to Earth tomorrow at 10:00. I’ve booked a seat. I looked up where the Cooper is; going by Starbase 114 would be out of your way now, anyway.”

“Thanks,” you say, taking the drink. “I would’ve been happy to drop you off. But yeah, I’m not surprised they gave up on the shuttle, it’s a shame but it was pretty mangled.”

You settle back on to the lounger. “I’m going to miss this,” you say softly, taking a sip of your drink, the icy cold juice providing a welcome contrast to the warm air. “I’m going to miss—”

You stop yourself.

I’m going to miss you.

You knew, in your head, what you were getting into when you invited him to Risa; you knew it would just be a temporary fling. But this thing between you… it’s been much more special than you imagined it could be. You knew you liked him as a person. You knew you were attracted to him as a man. But you wonder, if you lived different lives, had different callings…

But you can’t say that. You don’t want to make things weird.

Chris looks at you, though, blue eyes thoughtful, and… perhaps you don’t need to say it.

He grills that evening, and you think maybe one day you could settle on a planet. If you could eat perfect steak like that on a regular basis.

And then that night… the last early morning that you spend in his arms…

You know he feels it too.

[elen-aranel]

Chanced Chapter 7: Enterprise - Freefall

Pairing: Christopher Pike x F!Reader (no Y/N) Warnings: some angst, skydiving WC: 4.5k Taglist: @fzziiee​  (if you'd like to be tagged, please let me know <3) Notes: Sometimes you just have to stand up and take that step out into the unknown. Rating: Mature for moments in other chapters Summary: You focus on your console, trying to tune out the rest of the chat – You know Pike won’t draw you into it. At first you wondered if it was because you were new, but he’s cordial with Sullivan and Nhan. It’s only you that he barely talks to. And while you see him every day, you miss him. You miss having him as a friend.

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Starship Enterprise, 2254

Starship Enterprise is proving to be a challenge.

The ship is at warp on the way to study some kind of spatial phenomenon; you’ve reviewed the scans and there’s no planned security involvement in this mission, but you’re still a few days away. You’re on the bridge, early for the start of your shift.

You know, in your head, that getting to be on the secondary security station on the bridge is a good thing. It shows Andre Sullivan, the new security chief, trusts you. He’s strong but compact, with brown skin, short wiry curls, and a neat short beard. His dark eyes, his whole presence, is calm and thoughtful, but you’ve seen him fight, and he is formidable. You warmed to him straight away; you don’t think he’ll make the same sorts of mistakes as his predecessor. And you’re enjoying your work, too. It’s challenging but in a good way, and so far the work is everything you hoped it would be.

“Captain on the bridge!”

You focus on your station as the captain walks across to his chair to relieve Lieutenant Jayasuriya who had the gamma shift conn. You listen to her update, but only to make sure there’s nothing important going on that you don’t know about.

Really you’re waiting. You’re waiting out the half hour or so that it takes for Pike to come and check in with Sullivan, and by extension, with you. You’re waiting for what will probably be your only interaction of the day.

Time ticks by very slowly, but eventually he gets up and heads over. You steel yourself a little.

“Lieutenant Commander,” he tips his head in acknowledgement of you, and it’s not unfriendly, just… formal.

“Captain,” you match his tone, polite.

“Sullivan, we’ll talk about the invacuation drill schedule but I have to ask... did you enjoy your dessert last night? What was it, ice cream sundaes?”

Of course the captain would know about the incident in the mess hall last night. You, Sullivan, and a couple of others had been ordering drinks from the synthesiser to go with your meal, but a synthesiser glitch turned your iced tea into a whole roast turkey, and Sullivan’s water had become twelve ice cream sundaes. Chef took the turkey saying he’d use it for sandwiches or soup, but most of the sundaes went to a group of science specialists who had just been finishing their meals as you arrived.

“You should ask Garison. I didn’t have any of them, but he had a chocolate fudge one. For ’analytical purposes’, he said.”

“So what were the results of your ’analysis’ Garison? Synthesisers working again?”

You focus on your console, trying to tune out the rest of the chat ��� You know Pike won’t draw you into it. At first you wondered if it was because you were new, but he’s cordial with Sullivan and Nhan. It’s only you that he barely talks to. And while you see him every day, you miss him. You miss having him as a friend.

You try not to shake your head at the thought, and bring up the timetable for the drills on you console. You are making friends on the ship, like Lieutenant Laleh Tehrani who you spoke to in Engineering that first day. Louvier assigned her to take a look at Lizzie, and you hit it off over ideas for upgrading the warp plasma manifolds, enough that she invited you for girls’ night with her friends Lieutenants Anisa Lestari from operations and Selina Anderson from stellar cartography. You get on well with the security crew, and you can always count on one of them to be there for squash, tennis, or velocity. And the chef… you wouldn’t say you’re friends, quite yet, but he has given you permission to use the kitchens as long as you record the ingredients you use and don’t get in the way of major mealtimes.

And it’s not like you and Pike were ever much more than acquaintances, not really. Acquaintances who had some fun together that one time.

That’s the challenge, you think, as you focus on your work. To manage how you feel about the captain. To learn to move on. It’s more difficult on a quiet shift. But, being the Enterprise, it doesn’t stay quiet for long.

“We’re getting a distress signal, Captain, from the science station on Beron III.”

“On screen, Nicola.” You turn to watch the screen, seeing Pike stand from his chair.

“I’m having some trouble with the signal, sir. There’s interference. I’m trying to clear it up.”

The star field on the view screen blinks off, and in its place you can just about make out an officer in a navy fleet uniform. You catch yourself thinking old style, like you hadn’t been wearing one just a few weeks ago. The picture is jerky, staticky. Freezing every now and then. And what you can see is not good: the officer is dishevelled, people are running about behind her, and as you watch a console in the background explodes in a shower of sparks.

“Enterprise to Beron station, how can we help?”

“This is Commander Chung. We need an evac, now. We’re here to study the atmosphere, but it’s undergoing some kind of inversion. Electrical storms are increasing; we’ve lost main power, but before we did we modelled a chemical reaction which is making the air unbreathable. We’re sending you our latest models and scans, but we can only last a few more hours.”

“Tyler, what’s our ETA?”

“At maximum warp? Three hours, sir. Course laid in.”

“Number One, hit it. Spock, do you have the data?”

“Yes, Captain.”

 “Chung, hang in there – we’re on our way. Enterprise out.”

He sits back down, and you turn away.

“Looks like there are only six staff members assigned to the base, sir,” you say quietly to Sullivan who’s next to you at the primary station. “The planet is uninhabited, and it’s not thought to be of tactical interest to any other race.”

“Captain, I am analysing the data we have received, and I believe we have a problem.”

“What is it, Mr Spock?”

You turn again as Spock brings a graphic up on the screen.

“It will not be safe to beam through the atmosphere. The model shows that the interference will be too great for the targeting scanners to achieve a lock.”

“Can we send a shuttle?”

“The station only has six crew. A shuttle would be able to accommodate them.” Sullivan says.

“And I could pilot it,” Number One turns her chair to face the captain.

“The electrical discharges preclude the use of a shuttle, Captain.” Spock changes the view on the screen, showing simulations he has run of a shuttle in the atmosphere. Ten simulations play at once; the shuttle is destroyed in the lower atmosphere five times, destroyed during landing twice more, and crashes but remains at least partially intact on the remaining three. “Even with your skill, Number One, the odds of a successful landing are negligible. And once you were on the surface, returning to the Enterprise would be equally as unlikely.”

“Options? Can we reinforce the shuttle’s shields in some way? Improve the targeting scanners?” Pike stands. You can’t see his expression, but you imagine a frown as he steps closer to the screen, as though willing a solution to appear.

“The shuttle’s engines attract the discharges, sir. Modifying the shields would not help.”

“If they had pattern enhancers, would we be able to lock onto them then?” You hear the note of eagerness in Number One’s voice.

Spock turns to his station. “Yes, we would, however, the station lacks transporters, so they would have no need of enhancers. And their power is offline, so they would not be able to synthesise them.”

“But if we could get enhancers to them?”

“What are you thinking, Number One?”

“The storms are in the lower atmosphere. None of the shuttles took any damage before they reached the lower stratosphere. We could fly a shuttle down there, then someone can skydive the rest of the way.”

“Would that work?”

“The plan is not without risk; however it seems to be our only logical choice.”

“Good. Nicola, alert the station, tell them that’s what we’re going to do, and to prepare themselves primarily and anything else they wish to bring in one location. I’m going to go suit up.”

You see Number One frown in disagreement, and you feel Sullivan taking a breath next to you ready to object. But you’re quicker than both of them. You’re standing already.

“Captain, let me go. I have the best exodive accuracy scores here. And you’ve seen—you know I can do it.”

He looks at you. Really looks at you, for the first time since your first day here. His blue eyes meet yours, and you can’t read his expression, but you hold his gaze, not backing down. He smiles, rueful.

“Point taken, Commander. Do what you need to get ready.”

“I’m sorry if I was out of line back there, volunteering myself,” you say to Sullivan in the turbolift on the way to the shuttle bay. You’ve never worn a red flight suit before, and you feel conspicuous. Although any flight suit is conspicuous, you suppose. Your bronze one was.

“You weren’t. Your instinct was the right one, and I want you – all my staff – to feel free to speak up. You never know when you can save a life.”

“Thank you, sir.”

He waves your thanks away. “We all need to be ready to step up.”

You walk past Lizzie on the way to the Kepler, the shuttle you’ll be jumping from. You brush your fingers along the hull, glad you’re not risking her in the atmosphere.

“Nice suit,” Tehrani says, looking you up and down.

“Oh gosh don’t start – I almost feel like a candy cane.”

“You won’t once I attach these.” She holds up the pattern enhancers. “There are six. You only need three, really, but we thought it’s better to be safe.”

She straps them to your front; they feel awkward, and your freedom of movement is a little impaired, but they’re secure, and they shouldn’t unbalance you as you fall.

“Not like a candy cane now,” she winks. “Come back safe, Commander.”

“Aye, Lieutenant.”

Number One arrives then, and you get into the shuttle. You’re glad she’s the one piloting you; in the few weeks you’ve seen her fly you’ve come to trust her. But while you like her, too, you do find her a little intimidating still.

And once you’re making your descent, the questions start.

“What were you going to say?”

“Excuse me?”

“On the bridge. You stopped yourself from saying something to the captain. What were you going to say?”

You shift in your seat, trying to get the pattern enhancers into a slightly more comfortable position – they’re digging in.

“I was just saying he knows I did well in my exodive scores. I prepared a report for Sullivan last week with everyone’s scores on that, diving, moving and stationary targets, half marathon… and Sullivan passed the security staff results to the captain, specifically, so he knows who best to assign to different away missions.”

The look she fixes you with is withering.

“I have worked with Captain Christopher Pike for four years now as his first officer. I know him. I know how he reacts to people – how he treats them. Then you come along, and there’s this—this distance between you, which I’ve never seen before. Maybe only with crew he’s had to reprimand.” She shakes her head as she turns and checks the console again, making minor course adjustments.

“I couldn’t account for it until today. But the way you spoke to him… you have history together, don’t you?” She looks at you, sidelong. “Are you his ex?”

“I—” you pause, remembering Risa. But what you’d had together… it was just a fling. “I’m not.  But we—we do have a… past. And before you say anything,” you raise a hand to silence the question you can see she’s about to ask. “I didn’t come here for him. I’d been looking for a posting on a Constitution class ship for months. I wanted to move into exploration, and when this came up… You know the Enterprise is the best in the fleet. Pike and I were a long time ago. And I wouldn’t even have considered applying if we hadn’t been on good terms.”

Number One tilts her head, then turns back to the controls. “The Talosians would’ve had a field day with you,” she mutters, but before you can ask who they are, an indicator flashes on the console.

“We’re at altitude. Are you ready?”

You stand. Everything else can wait. “Yes, Commander.” You activate your helmet, checking its cam uplink to the Enterprise and the integrity of your suit, and walk to the back of the shuttle. She activates a forcefield behind you.

“Good luck.” She opens the shuttle doors, and you step straight out into nothing.

Skydiving on Beron III is nothing like it was on Risa. You’re higher up and the atmosphere is thin. You concentrate on holding your pose as you plummet; you can’t afford to go into a spin as you get close to the speed of sound.

You watch the clouds as they approach, gradually taking up more of your field of view. From orbit the planet had looked a flat pale pink, but as you get closer you see variation, clouds undulating through more peachy and more mauvy colours. As you watch you begin to be able to discern individual storm cells, some with patches of mint green bursting through. You can’t see the ground at all, but you know you’re on track thanks to the display you can see overlaid on your visor.

The colours are a bit unsettling, possibly you’ve never seen an atmosphere like this before, but as you watch you start to appreciate its beauty. And it occurs to you that you’re the only person who has ever seen the planet like this. Possibly the only person who’s ever had this view of this type of atmosphere. You smile. This feeling of privilege and awe is a big part of why you’re out here.

“Status?” Captain Pike’s voice cuts through your reverie.

“Status nominal, Captain. Slowing from maximum velocity. I’m ready to deploy the drogue before I hit the troposphere.”

“Acknowledged. We’re getting your video and telemetry, but keep this line open.”

“Aye sir.”

You don’t really feel nervous until you start to see the electrical light. It’s subtle; you think it must be generated from some way beneath the surface of the clouds, but you see more and more little lights flashing faintly blue.

But there’s no backing out; these people need you. And you’re in a gravity well. There’s no way out but through.

“Activating drogue,” you say as you press a control with your right palm. You can feel it as the tiny parachute fires; it won’t slow you down, but it will help stabilise your fall. And you can really feel the atmosphere now; it’s thickening as you speed through it. Being able to feel a charge in the air must just your imagination because your suit insulates you from the outside world, but the hairs are standing up on the back of your neck.

“Entering the troposphere.” You work to keep the quaver out of your voice, as you plunge into a what you can only describe to yourself world of electric cotton candy.

Diffuse sunlight is filtering through, as you fall through pink, green and purple cells, one after the other. Parts of it feel like falling through fog, but there are gaps within the clouds, and at times you almost feel like you’re hurtling through caves. But as you go deeper, more and more of the light is blue flashes of lightning. Sometimes you can even see the webs of electricity lighting up the clouds; majestic, but terrifying.

Then you hit the turbulence. You’re grateful for the drogue, even as you feel your body taking a hammering you know it’s helping you stay on target. You’re glad, too, that Tehrani wrapped the pattern enhancers securely and gave you extras. But after you’re done counting your blessings you grit your teeth and focus on the altimeter.

“Approaching the bottom of the storm layer. Preparing to activate main—”

Suddenly everything goes white. Then black. Your entire body spasms for a long moment. You feel a sharp pain in your left leg as your vision and sensation fades back in.

“Commander? Report!” You can hear a little tension leaking into Pike’s voice.

“I’m—I’m fine. Hit, but not badly. We thought this may happen. Systems still read—read mostly nominal, but I lost the drogue. Activating main parachute now.”

You feel relief as you deploy your main parachute; you’re at the part that feels like a normal skydive, even if Beron III is not a normal place for it. Below the clouds the world is tinged pink, with smooth rolling hills. It’s barren, though. There is some plant life trying to grow, you think, but you can see marks where lightning has left round scorch marks on the local grass equivalent. As you fall lightning strikes and strikes again, close, and you’re glad for your emergency secondary parachute.

And finally, you can see the base. You pull your cords, adjusting your descent. The building has clearly had more than its fair share of strikes. The roof is scorched, and part of the building has clearly burned, but as you try to focus on it, your eyes start to water. You see blue forked lightning hit yet again through your blurred vision.

You cough. There must have been more damage than you thought.

But you blink and your vision clears, enough to see the main door of the building. Enough so that you can float in to land on your feet right in front of it. You stumble a little as pain lances up your leg, but you grit your teeth and stand.

“I’ve touched down safely. Entering the base now.”

You touch a control to release your parachute and press the door panel just as lightning hits just metres away. You topple forward into the waiting arms of Commander Chung.

“Oh thank god,” she says, pulling you in, and the door shuts behind you. Her face is marked and her uniform dirty, even given the dark colour. “This way.” She doesn’t wait around, and you follow her through the dark corridor, lit with emergency lights that flicker every time the building is struck. And it seems to get struck a lot.

“The strike frequency is increasing exponentially,” Chung answers the question you were about to ask. “Our lightning rods melted a couple of hours ago. Not sure if the atmosphere or the lightning would have taken us out first, but you’re here now. This is what’s left of the control centre.”

The other five members of the crew are in the middle of the room, and you get the pattern enhancers set up round them and the equipment they’re bringing quickly. A couple of them are in respiratory distress; you wonder if they had been in one of the more damaged sections.

You step back, out of the range of the transporter. “Enterprise, six to beam up.”

You watch as they are enveloped in golden light, and relief floods through you. You’ve done your job. Time to go home. You step between the enhancers.

“One more to beam up when ready, Enterprise.”

Blue lightning strikes just as you feel the beam take you, and you see pink and green sky above you as you’re transported away.

You sit in a bio bed as Doctor Boyce and a nurse examine your leg.

“We’re going to have to cut the suit off you.” Boyce says, and you sigh, which devolves into a cough. You hoped you would be able to get to your quarters and change before you went to sickbay, but Sullivan was waiting for you in the transporter room. And that was a good thing, apparently; the adrenaline coursing through you meant you didn’t notice that part of the suit had melted into your skin. “Better get those lungs looked at too,” Boyce adds, and the nurse nods.

You persuade a different nurse to give you a PADD while you sit propped up on the bed, waiting for your leg to heal. Deep tissue damage is not as bad as a broken bone, although it does itch a bit. But it still takes a while, so you wanted to pass the time productively and work on your report. You’re deep into it and don’t notice the captain approach until he speaks.

“Commander, how are you feeling?” Pike looks down at you, expression serious. But there’s warmth there, too.

“I’m fine, sir. Should be allowed to go soon.” You smile, a little self-conscious in your pale blue sickbay gown; it doesn’t leave much to the imagination. But then… he’s seen it all before, you think.

He nods. “Good. I wanted to say thank you. For taking the mission, saving those scientists. And… for not letting me go.” His eyes meet yours, and you see the sincerity there. The vulnerability. He’s still the captain, but you see something of Chris there, too. More than you have for the past few weeks.

Your voice is gentle when you speak. “I read through some of the logs from before I got here and… I think you were let down. I don’t want that to happen again.” You shrug. “And you know I love skydiving. If there had been horses involved…”

He laughs, and it sounds natural. “If we find horses out here, I’m not giving up riding them for anything.”

“I’ve still never ridden, you know.”

“Next time we’re on Earth we have to fix that. There’s really nothing like it; I’m sure Mary Lou would—”

But Doctor Boyce comes in then, brandishing a medical tricorder, and you can practically see the shutters fall on his expression.

“Commander, I’m glad you’re on the mend,” he says with a ghost of a smile, and he leaves, you and Boyce staring after him.

Dinner for the alpha shift is long finished by the time you make it to the mess hall, although there are a few people at tables, mostly chatting. You wave to your fellow security officers, Ensigns Suzuki and Corea, who are absorbed in playing some card game, and make your way to the galley.

 You debate leftovers vs the synthesiser, but the cold lasagne, topped with congealed cheese, really doesn’t look appealing. And as you program the synthesiser for a grilled chicken breast in tarragon sauce with vegetables, you can’t get your encounter in sickbay out of your mind. The way he warmed up. The way he shut down.

 And you think, as you settle down at a table, PADD in one hand, fork in the other, perhaps there’s something you can do.

You press the chime for the captain’s ready room; you hadn’t been surprised when the computer told you he was still here. Your pretext is your report. You could give it straight to the captain’s yeoman – you don’t think she likes you; as much as Pike has been keeping you at arm’s length it doesn’t take a genius to see that she’s nursing a crush on him, which makes you a threat – but sometimes a personal delivery is best.

“Enter,” comes the familiar voice, and you walk in. Pike is seated on the sofa, a stack of PADDs and a glass of something clear on the coffee table in front of him.

“Hey,” He stands as you approach. “I was going to ask you to stop by, but I thought you might want to have the evening to relax after today.”

That wasn’t quite what you were expecting. And you can’t help noticing the word he doesn’t say: Commander.

“Sir, I brought you my report… and some cookies I baked. A peace offering of sorts?” You take a breath. “I respect you, and if you need to keep keeping me at a distance, of course that’s fine; I’m not looking to cross any boundaries. But I wanted to say that I miss you. I miss my friend.”

“Think the cookies will go with Hinarian gin?” His mouth quirks into the smile that you’ve missed as he picks up the bottle and a glass from his bar cart, holding them out to you.

“No? But yes to the offer. Thanks.”

You put the PADD and the stasis container of cookies on the coffee table and settle into an armchair, taking the proffered drink. Pike resumes his seat on the sofa as you relish that icy first sip.

“I need to apologise,” he says after a moment. “I had some things I wasn’t aware I was working through, from a recent… encounter, and I took them out on you. I’m sorry for that.” He looks you in the eye, and you feel something settle inside you.

“Una – Number One – called me out, after I saw you in sickbay. She said if I couldn’t treat you like any other crew member, I should ask you to leave on your shuttle.” He sips his drink, and sighs gently.

“I won’t bore you with the details, and some of them are classified, but there were some aliens… they got in my head. Made me see things that weren’t real… think I felt things for a person that weren’t real… They made me question my reality, in a way I didn’t expect. It was hard to shake that off, even back on the ship, after we left them. And then you came along and…” He sighs. “I told myself maintaining a professional distance would be the right thing, but it wasn’t. And that wasn’t what I was doing.”

His blue eyes are disarming.

“I missed your friendship, too. And I realised I don’t need to deny us that.”

“Apology accepted, Chris. I—well, I don’t understand, per se, but I get that things can be strange out here. And that’s both why we’re here and the price we pay, I suppose.”

He nods. “So, top up? Or should I synthesise hot chocolate to go with the cookies?”

“Keep them for morning briefing.” You hold out your glass. “You know this is the only real alcohol I have in my quarters? That and whiskey. I did have some Saurian brandy, once, on Starbase 58, but probably the least said about that the better.”

“Boyce swears by martinis. I haven’t had to use it, but I believe he has a good hangover cure, in case you do over-indulge…”

Things feel a little fragile between you still, you think as you return to your quarters an hour or so later. But you sleep better than you had since you got here.

[elen-aranel]

Chanced Chapter 8: Enterprise - Vigil

Pairing: Christopher Pike x F!Reader (no Y/N) Warnings: time in sickbay (neither reader nor Pike are sick), angst WC: 3k Taglist: @fzziiee​  (if you'd like to be tagged, please let me know <3) Notes: the +1 continues! Work is hard on a starship but a certain captain is around to help you out. Rating: Mature for moments in other chapters Summary: You feel Pike nod, and his voice softens. “And how are you?” “I’m—” you cut yourself off. You were about to say fine. But Chris isn’t asking because he wants a platitude.

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Starship Enterprise, 2254

Starship Enterprise is your favourite posting so far.

Your favourite for the work you’re doing and the places you’re getting to see; truly on the frontier now as you leave known space behind.

Security Chief Sullivan is continuing to show trust in you, letting you take the beta shift at the primary security station some weeks. Commander Nhan, another officer who’s a little older and more experienced than you, is willing to share her knowledge and help you be better. The rest of the security crew are hard-working, brave, and fun to be around.

You’re honing your poker skills at the bridge crew’s regular game. Your strategy isn’t quite there yet, but when you pretend to yourself the other players are miscreants on Starbase 58’s brig, your poker face is. You and Laleh Tehrani meet up at least weekly, either with Lestari and Anderson for a pampering night or 2-on-2 Parrises squares, or sometimes to work on Lizzie.

And the captain… You’ve been fortunate through your career that you’ve always had commanding officers who you’ve respected, and you respect Captain Pike, too, but… now he’s your friend. The friend who cheered you up when you were alone all those years ago. The friend who’s given you good advice, and who you’ve been able to help too.

Some days you chat after evening briefing, listening to his stories about horses and winning the Rigel cup, or sharing your ideas for mods you were thinking of doing to Lizzie. He flags articles in his briefings that he thinks you’ll be interested in, and if you bake you make sure to bring him a sample. He even asks after Penny. You still don’t know exactly what happened on Talos – though you’re well aware of General Order 7, banning contact with the planet – but you don’t see traces of that shadow Chris seemed to be under anymore. Or if you do, they’re fleeting. And, of course, there are… boundaries. You’ve never invited him to your quarters, for example. The attraction you felt four years ago hasn’t gone away, but you value your friendship more. You put it aside.

Starship Enterprise has been your favourite posting… up until today.

You had mentioned to Chris over blueberry muffins before briefing that you missed cooking, as opposed to baking, but you never got the chance because mealtimes were when the galley was in use, and you were touched when he offered you the use of his kitchen to host a dinner party.

Now you’re spending the morning going through crew security evals to flag up who needs recertification or additional training. And you are absolutely not mentally planning out dinner party menus, and who you would want to invite. You are entirely focused on your job. And you’re telling yourself that when Nicola announces that he’s picked up a distress call. You jolt back to yourself, closing out the evals and bringing up the sensor scans, before turning to the view screen.

“Greetings.” The alien speaking has charcoal black skin which glimmers as he moves; you get the sense that it’s hard for him to stop long enough to talk to you. “I am Medana, chair of the Naerol Confederacy, and we seek your help. Three days ago, a rogue Daramer terraforming device dropped out of subspace close to the Naerol system, and it is on course to land on our primary planet, where it will kill all life.” He subsides, looking to another alien of a different species.

“My people sent these probes out many, many generations ago, when we sought to expand our presence in the galaxy and subdue it. It is preparing the way for colonists who will never come. I am Le’av, of the Daramer Nomads. We are trying all we can to mend the errors of our ancestors, but we have so far failed to deactivate the probe and if we try to destroy it, the consequences will be catastrophic. Not just for the Naerol but for this whole sector.” They wipe a hand across a golden brow.

“We no longer have access to the technology which could control this device, but it remains on our former homeworld. Our ancestors saw the error of our ways and there was… a schism. We forsook our homeworld and our terraforming technology, and set out in convoy ships to explore. But lest any of our number change their mind in the long years to come, our ancestors fortified Daramer. Those defences are still active… we lost the ships which tried to land to retrieve the artefact we need.” They sigh heavily, brown eyes sad, and you wonder if they lost someone personally on a ship that went down. “But we heard via our web that the Federation had transporter technology, so we hoped that you would be willing to use it to access the surface directly. We are sending you data on our findings so far.”

You glance at Spock, whose screen has come to life; he is paging through the transmission, eyebrow raised.

Captain Pike is standing in front of his chair, and he squares his shoulders slightly. “Of course. Medana, Le’av, we will do anything we can. How long do we have?” You smile inwardly at the way the captain doesn’t think twice about helping aliens you’ve never had contact with before; that’s Chris all over.

You focus on your console. The computer has identified the Naerol planet, and the swarm of ships taking off from it; enough to evacuate some of the populace, perhaps a lot of their children, but… there are ten billion people living there. If you can’t help, most of them will die.

The staff meeting is done, the plans are made, the away teams are planetside. You are in a team with Ensigns Spock and Suzuki, but there are three other teams being led by the captain, Number One, and Sullivan. Your beam-down site is on the western continent in the remains of a large city, and you take a second to look around the tumbled down grey stonework, highlighted gold by the late afternoon sun, and to imagine what it must have been like when this place was alive with people. It’s still alive, of course, but now it’s with plants and trees, reclaiming the city a block at a time. As you watch a large white parachute-like seed pod drifts through a hole in a wall, dropping little motes that sparkle in the sunlight as it flies. The reclamation continues.

“The shielded area around the artefact is this way.”  Spock points, and you aim your tricorder in that direction. Your destination is a distance away, and you won’t have as far to come to beam out, but this was the safest beam-in point in the vicinity.

“We should proceed with caution. I’m detecting faint energy signatures, and we need to be on our guard for manual traps too.”

Spock and Suzuki nod, and you make your way into the ruins.

There are traps everywhere. Some are decayed with age; you can see where a laser emitter is supposed to be shining a light to trigger an energy beam, but both it and the beam emitter are dead. This looks like it might have been a residential block, but it’s dead silent apart from the faint rustle of leaves in the lightest of breezes; you wonder whether there is animal life on this planet, and whether over the generations it has learned to stay away.

“Spock, are you seeing the paving stone?”

“Affirmative, Commander. I will avoid it.” The silence is also broken by the three of you checking on each other, and the beeps of your tricorders. Although you know you don’t really need to check on Spock; the Vulcan is a picture of calm concentration, clearly aware of his entire surroundings down to the minutest detail.

Suzuki is doing well too, of course; the Enterprise is the best ship in the fleet because of her crew. You don’t know him well yet; even though he’s in security he’s been on gamma a lot, so your paths haven’t crossed much. What you have seen of him has been friendly and gregarious off-duty, but here he’s all business, eager to reach the target, to be successful.

The ruins change as you get closer to the shield, closer to the centre of the city. The buildings are larger, more spaced out, and everything curves. The walls, the way they reach into the sky… the only straight lines are where things have fallen.

“We have reached the edge of the shielded area,” Spock announces, and you can’t see anything different with your eyes, even as your tricorder confirms he is right. “Transport and communicators will cease to work from this point.”

“Thank you, Spock. Team three to Enterprise, we are at the edge of the shield. Are we go to proceed?”

“Enterprise here. You are the first to reach a shield. Please proceed, but be back in transporter range within three hours. If you are not within range and another team retrieves a controller before you, we’ll have to leave without you.”

“Understood. Team three out.”

You thought there were a lot of defences before. But this is a different level. Your senses are alert to everything. The tufts of soft green-yellow grass poking through the pavement you’re walking on, which bend almost without a sound. The large pale blue flowers that unfurl in the corner of your vision, catching your attention for a moment. But you don’t have time to think about flora, because—

“Suzuki!” He freezes. “Take one pace back, now to the right, and again—good. You were too close to that wire. One wrong move, and…”

“Sorry, Commander. I thought this might be a faster…” He shakes his head, refocusing. “It won’t happen again.”

Spock indicates a large, ornate building across a circular plaza, and you make your way there. This building is the most intact you’ve seen, dome- shaped with intricate carvings which although weathered are still detailed, still draw the eye along spiralling, confusing paths. “Based on scans and the information the Daramer shared, the artefact should be in there.”

“Agreed. And it doesn’t look like we have much choice in how we proceed; it seems that what power systems remain are concentrated here, and nearly the whole area is covered.” You pick up a stone and throw it to your right; it’s vaporised mid-air. “I know this is stressful but we’re doing well. Let’s keep our focus; people are counting on us.”

When you were a kid on the Pemberley and your parents needed to keep you quiet for a bit, they would sometimes sit you down in front of a PADD with various puzzle games. One was a maze where you had to tilt the PADD to steer the character through, and you could spend hours on it.

You can’t help but think of that puzzle now. The room you’re in is round, and still has power, at least partially. It’s part auditorium, with dusty rows of what used to be seats, covers rotted away, and part displays of transformations of barren planets to living ones, or living planets to planets more like this one, along with cases showing equipment and artefacts like rocks and bones. It would have been the final place where colonists met before leaving Daramer, according to your briefing.

And every step you take, almost every breath you breathe echoes round the room, coming back to you muffled, twisted. You pick your way through with care, spiralling closer to the middle.

It’s only taken you half an hour to get this far, through corridors looping round the building, and you’re so close, mere steps away. You can see the controller on its pedestal — tantalisingly close to touching distance. Spock scans it and confirms it’s functional, and that removing it won’t cause anything either mechanical or otherwise to trigger and kill you all.

The lethal bit is the final two metres between you and the artefact. One wrong step, wrong move, and you will set off one of ten sensors in a metre range of the pedestal. They probably aren’t all working, after all this time, but the Daramer briefing made it clear: it only takes one.

“It is not possible to reach the artefact from here. The layout of the traps means our probability of success is unacceptably low. However, I believe we will be able to approach from the south.” Spock brings up a schematic on his tricorder screen. “We must leave the room, make our way round the building, and re-enter from the other side. Scanning resolution is clearer here; I project it will take us another hour to reach the other side of the artefact, then a further hour to reach the beam out point. Well within our allotted time.”

“Agreed.” You stifle a sigh, frowning at your own tricorder; you don’t relish the idea of another couple of hours of this. “I don’t like it, but you’re right. We have the time, and there’s no sense in taking unnecessary risks. Let’s head back.”

“But we’re so close.” Suzuki sounds frustrated, and he bounces slightly on his toes. “I’m only a few steps away; there’s enough space between the sensor here and the wire there. If I just—”

“Suzuki, no!”

But it’s too late. He takes a step, reaches out, grasps the artefact then misses his next step back.

There are times when the Vulcans have it right. When you have to stop feeling to get the job done. And you have a job to do: get yourself, Spock, Suzuki and the artefact back safely. At least he’s still alive, for now – there is poison in his system, but he is breathing though he isn’t conscious.

The other Vulcan trait you’re grateful for is strength, right now, as Spock takes more than his share of Suzuki’s dead weight between you.

You don’t think. You don’t feel. You just analyse your surroundings moment to moment, staying in that perfect focus. Through the auditorium, along corridors, past sensors, lasers, more poison-laced traps, round curve after curve until you emerge into an alien twilight.

You stand in the corner of sickbay, still and unobtrusive. Years of guard duty mean that you can hold yourself in a way that says, I have a right to be here. I am here to keep you safe.

Even when it isn’t true.

Suzuki’s breaths on the bio bed are laboured, but every one is a victory. You overheard Boyce telling a nurse that if he makes it through the next eight hours he’ll likely make a full recovery, but the question is whether his body can fight off the toxin he was hit with.

And he is breathing on his own now, though the ventilator is set to pick up if he stops. You estimate he’s doing twelve breaths per minute; if he can make about five thousand, three hundred more he should be all right.

So you stand there, counting breaths, holding yours when his stutters, trying to work out what you could have done differently. Knowing that if it had to be someone, it should have been you.

You have counted one thousand, five hundred and eleven breaths when you feel the ship drop out of warp. At least now your vigil is for one person, not billions.

Medical staff come by to check on him occasionally, but for the most part you’re undisturbed. Until you get to three thousand, eight hundred and eighty-seven.

“Commander, how is he?” The captain is standing right beside you; you barely noticed him coming in.

“His breath… it still sounds so—so difficult for him.” You pause, listening as Suzuki takes in another shuddering breath in, then out.

“But Boyce said if he can push through for another one thou—uh—about two hours, now, I guess, he should recover.”

You feel Pike nod, and his voice softens. “And how are you?”

“I’m—” you cut yourself off. You were about to say fine. But Chris isn’t asking because he wants a platitude.

“It should be me, over there.” You jerk your head in Suzuki’s direction.

“Spock told me he recommended you take another route, and you concurred, but Suzuki jumped the gun.”

You snort. “He did not say that.”

Pike shrugs, waiting.

“I saw the impatience in him, the eagerness to get the job done. Maybe to be a hero? And I… I should’ve… checked him. Pulled him back before he got that far. We lose too many, as a fleet. I think I told you once before that I wouldn’t mind dying for Starfleet, and maybe I will one day, but… only if it’s necessary. Today it wasn’t, and I should’ve done better.”

Pike is silent for a while, and you go back to counting breaths. Another twenty-one go by, and then he leaves. But before you can really register his absence, he returns with two chairs.

His mouth quirks in response to your raised brow. “Might as well be comfortable. What have we got? About one thousand three hundred left?”

“Must be about that,” you say, stifling a groan as you sit; standing so still left you a little stiff. Pike’s chair is close to yours, and he reaches out to you as he sits, laying a hand on your shoulder and giving it a brief squeeze.

“Remember he made his own choice,” Pike’s voice is thoughtful. Gentle. “You did what you could, and after that, you need to let it go.”

“I know.” You shake your head, trying to shake the guilt you feel. “I’m trying.”

“It’s easier to say than to do, and I don’t want to be a hypocrite, offering you advice I don’t take... but perhaps we can work on it together.”

Suzuki’s breathing continues to be laboured for his next few hundred breaths, but if you didn’t seek absolution, at least you made your confession. And Pike’s presence, silent and steady, is comforting.

Then, finally, Boyce comes in, and you feel your stomach clench as he makes his examination. You stand, as does Pike.

“He’s going to make it,” Boyce says as he turns to face you both, and your relief is almost overwhelming. “I’ll need to keep him in here for observation for the next twenty-four hours, and light duties for a few more days after that, but he should be right as rain.”

“Thank you, Doctor.”

“Put the chairs back, Pike. That’s all the thanks I need.” Boyce turns to you. “He’ll be asleep for a few hours longer, but by all means come and chew him out tomorrow afternoon.” he nods before closing his tricorder and leaving.

“Thank you for waiting with me,” you say as Pike returns, chairs gone. “I really appreciated you being there. And your counsel.”

“You are always welcome,” he says, and there’s something in the look in his eyes as they catch yours for a moment. “So, have you thought any more about the dinner party? I assume you have a menu by now…”

You roll your eyes as you follow him out of sickbay. And you won’t admit it right there and then, but… you do.