#and yet. the crew of the Enterprise set out to try to reach out to it.

[mikkeneko]

Anyone remember this guy?

obsessed with star trek repeatedly writing themselves into a corner by creating alien races that are supposed to be The Bad Guys when that explicitly conflicts with their previously established notion that no group of people is inherently good or evil.

first it was the klingons—they’re originally supposed to be this cruel, bloodthirsty, war-obsessed people—and then tng comes along and it’s like wait no maybe war and violence is a part of their culture and actually ties back to ancient traditions and philosophies so we have to be woke about it.

hey these are the ferengi and they’re supposed to represent everything we hate about capitalist society; they’re greedy, scheming, profit-obsessed, and they look like ugly little trolls to emphasize how much we fucking HATE capitalism. oh wait fuck here comes deep space nine and we have to recognize that they’re PEOPLE. okok what if the pursuit of profit is actually part of their culture and ties back to ancient traditions and philosophies. so we have to be woke about it.

this is the borg, they’re a hivemind race of cyborgs who have no sense of individuality and their only motivation is assimilating people into their society. they want to assimilate humanity and we are completely defenseless against them because their technology is eons ahead of our own and they’re incapable of being reasoned with. oh sweet we have a borg prisoner this is the perfect opportunity to commit genocide against them. fuck actually we can’t commit genocide we’re woke and communists and in space.

hey these are the cardassians, they’re part of a cruel and vicious empire which is supposed to be a representation of fascism and authoritarian regimes, they’re a cold, bloodthirsty people with no sense of empathy or compassion, their society literally references 1984 on multiple occasions, and they’re known for the insanely cruel and inhumane methods of torture they use against their prisoners of war. we hate the cardassians…….. except, here’s a cardassian kid who grew up on bajor, and……. fuck. he’s a person. now we actually have to consider his humanity. and being racist is actually……. bad.

this is the jem’hadar, they’re genetically engineered soldiers who have no sense of individuality and only live to defend the state. they’re all born addicted to a synthetic drug that’s manufactured by the state and administered by their masters—this is how they’re kept subservient. they’re ruthless and powerful and they’re incapable of being reasoned with because their only motivation is violence and killing. so we should kill them all, right? FUCK….. what if they’re actually people. goddamnit. now we have to consider their humanity.

hey these are the romulans. hey these are the founders. the list goes on. i just find it really interesting

[ensignsimp]

Could you do headcanons for Andorian courting/mating practices? Maybe specifically something for Tholos or Shran trying to court a reader who’s completely oblivious to Andorian courting traditions and so is painfully oblivious to his attempts to woo her?

"Miscommunication" ENT Thy'lek Shran x Fem! Reader (1/2)

A/N: I had to do a lot of research for this character because I have not watched Star Trek Enterprise. Thankfully, a friend let me borrow their box set.

A/N+: *Usha-shan is a made-up term for mating display/duel. I also posted a Weird Kinky HC for this as well to help give some context.

TW: Mature Themes

You had strange things been happening to you for weeks. The Andorians would constantly "run into" the Enterprise on more than one occasion. This was becoming more of an issue due to the frequency. However, Archer couldn't pass up an opportunity for diplomacy.

The only problem for you really was Shran. He always seemed insistent on having you join him and the other senior officers for meetings. Other times he would have you come aboard his ship for some long menial chore. At one point he invited you to a late-night briefing only to find a diner for two.

It was getting on your nerves at some points, but like Archer you wanted to be accommodating and diplomatic. You were unsure if Shran was trying to do the same. After your latest run-ins with Shran, you would return to your quarters to find a variety of strange gifts.

The first time it happened Shran presented you with a beautiful Andorian gemstone necklace. The second time you were gifted with a large container of fresh vegetables, fruits, and meat, that you promptly gifted to Cook. Then on the most recent visit, you returned to a room filled with furs and silks.

You would try to talk to him about it on his next visit. It usually didn't take long for him to come back around. However, this visit seemed different. He would try to avoid you as much as possible. He would speak with Captain Archer in whispers. He would try not to look at you in corridors. He would sometimes go in the opposite direction when he saw you. It made you believe that whatever he was trying to do was over. You just hoped you didn't insult him.

Shran felt nervous asking Archer for such a favor but he didn't know who else to trust. He had gained affection for one of his crew so it was only fair he asked him for assistance. He had tried everything to win you over, but it seemed as if you had no idea what he was trying to tell you. This made his blood boil when you ignored him, but it made him want you even more.

He walked into Archer's office, slammed his hands down on his desk, and looked him squarely in the eyes. "I need your help."

Archer looked confused, "Now what?" He sounded a little too sarcastic for his liking.

"I need to impress one of your crewmen. I wish to take them as a mate." Shran loudly whispered, afraid that any passers-by might hear him.

Archer raised his eyebrows shocked that he, Commander Shran of the Imperial Guard, would fall in love with a human being. He had several questions running through his mind, "Who?"

Shran let out a sigh, "It's Ensign (L/N)." He straightened up and put his hands behind his back, "I have tried to win their affection, however, they don't seem to notice."

"I have gifted them rare jewels, and silks, and provided them a vast array of resources yet they elect to ignore me." He said his antenna leaning back. "That is why I must show them that I am worthy of their attention."

He reached into his uniform jacket and pulled out a pad. "This is a detailed record of the *Usha-shan, a display of one's strength and vitality."

"I'm not going to have to try and kill you again am I?" Archer groaned a little taking the pad.

"That is not required." Shran laughed, "Though I think presenting them your head would be as appealing."

After explaining *Usha-shan to Archer, he agreed as long as no one would get killed. Shran was hopeful, he had not been in a duel like this for a while but he was hopeful about his prospects. Archer had no interest in winning you over so if that meant he would have the upper hand. For him, nothing could go wrong.

[logiusxcju]

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[make-me-imagine]

The Voice Of My Soul

Soulmate AU #10 (Link to Soulmate Series)

AU Prompt: You and your soulmate are connected through your dreams. It switches randomly between whose dream you are experiencing. You can only remember one specific detail about them from your dreams.

Plot: Y/n and Spock are intertwined by fate. Soulmate destined for each other. But, whose to say fate will make it easy for them to meet?

Pairing: Spock x GN!Reader

Warnings: None!

Note: Thank you @maydayfigment for helping inspire me to write this, and helping me hash some of it out! <3

Words: ~4.5k

As you felt yourself waking up, you knew the dream was fading away. Grasping at every memory as it faded, you repeated what you saw. "Mountains, trees, red, voice."

Your eyes opened, as those words repeated through your head. The dreams you had of your soulmates always faded so fast, and as hard as you try you can never remember them in detail. Nothing but his voice. That deep, almost melodic baritone voice.

Turning, you see you woke up twenty minutes before your alarm. Knowing it wasn't worth it to try and go back to sleep, you sat up, hanging your legs over the side of the bed. You tried again to think back on your dream. It was calm, it was always calm, so much less confusing than your dreams often were.

You repeated the words, "Mountains, trees, red, voice." You shook your head with a soft laugh. "Yeah, that helps a lot."

Dream sharing with your soulmate always started once you reached maturity. For the years that you had been having yours, you tried to remember them as best you could. Repeating words to yourself that would maybe help you remember them, but they never made enough sense to help you find out who your soulmate might be.

As much as you hated it, it was well known, that the dreams were not meant to help you find out who your soulmate was and track them down, but just to connect you to them. You would meet when you were meant too.

For everyone who starts to share the dreams of their soulmates, they each have something they can remember from these dreams that would give them that recognizable 'oh' moment when they first meet their soulmate. Usually, they remember the same detail about each other.

For some, it's visual details, like their soulmates eyes, a specific birthmark, or a scar. Or audible, like the sound of their voice, or singing. It ranges for every type of being there is, always giving you some way of knowing them personally, even if you've never met.

For you, your detail, was the sound of your soulmates voice. And every time you heard it, it sent shivers down your spine. It was deep, deeper than most you've heard, which for you, was lucky. It would be easy to recognize. Though, that time had yet to come.

Deciding that no matter how long you tried to think back on the dream, you wouldn't remember it, you stood and made your way to the shower. Taking a moment to look yourself over in the mirror, you let out a deep breath as your nerves began to settle in your stomach. Today was your first day on the USS Enterprise. The first day of a new adventure.

---------

Spock walked briskly down the corridor of the Starbase, his eyes straight ahead. The quick pit-stop at the Starbase to drop off the recent batch of Ensigns, and to pick up some more, as well as some higher ranked new crew-members, was coming to an end. His mind sorted through the tasks he had done, and the few left he had to complete before Enterprise was to set out.

Wading his way through a small crowd of people, Spock paid no mind to them. Suddenly, he picked up momentarily, on a familiar voice. As his steps slowed, it took him a moment to place to voice. He did not hear what was said, but he knew that voice.

Feeling his chest tighten as realization struck him, he quickly turned back, seeing that the small crowd of people had began to break apart. Walking back, he looked down the halls, listening for that voice again. Just one word wold be enough. Even as people walked past, giving him looks of confusion, he remained still, waiting.

When everyone that had been nearby was gone, Spock felt his stomach sink. You were here. You were right here. If he had actually looked at the people that were around him, if he had paid more attention instead of being so lost in his own thoughts, he may have seen you. If only you had spoken just a bit longer.

'Where do I go from here?'

Your voice repeated in his mind. Of all the dreams of yours he has shared, that was one sentence that always stuck in his mind. The only thing you've said, that he was able to remember in specific detail.

He can't remember the context of the dream, or who you were speaking too. Just that your voice was confused, afraid. Maybe that was why he was able to remember it. He woke up feeling as though you needed help. But that was nearly two years ago.

And now, you were here. Close, yet so far. Were you a member of Starfleet, or just a visitor to the Starbase?

"Mr. Spock, how are things coming?"

Spock was broken from his thoughts as he heard Pikes voice. Tapping his comm, he hesitated for a moment. "I only have one more task to complete Captain."

"Make it fast if you can."

"Yes Sir."

Spock continued to stare down the corridor. Would he hear you again before he had to leave the base? Or would he have to leave, knowing the fact that he had walked right past you, and missed the chance to find you? Knowing it could be years before he gets the chance again?

Turning, he began to continue on his way. His chest heavy with emotion he was finding hard to supress.

---------

Feeling a sense of melancholy in your chest after having said goodbye to all your friends around the base, you walked down the large hall of the Starbase.

When you rounded a corner, and spotted Captain Pike, you felt your stomach twist as you took a deep breath. Spotting you, he smiled. You stopped and placed your hands behind his back. "Lieutenant Y/n L/n, reporting for duty Captain."

He smiled and reached out his hand for you to shake. "Pleased to meet you Lieutenant, I've heard great things."

Taking his hand and shaking it you smiled, "I've heard the same about you, Sir."

Gesturing towards the transport room he smiled. "My number one is waiting on board, she'll show you around."

"Thank you Sir."

Nodding, he looked past you and his brow rose. Giving you one last look, he tapped your shoulder in encouragement before walking past. As you made your way towards the transport room, you looked back, seeing him approaching a young Vulcan that looked vaguely familiar.

"Mr. Spock, everything good to go?"

You rose your brow as you made your way through the doors of the transport room. 'So that was Spock huh? He's much more attractive than I expected.'

You had heard of the half-human half-Vulcan at the academy, as well as on the last ship you had been stationed on. Maybe you had seen him around and not realized it was him at the time. You wondered what he was like, and if what you had heard was accurate.

---------

As Spock made his way onto the bridge, his eyes landed on an unfamiliar face standing with Una beside the Captain's chair. A new Ensign? His eyes landed on the badge on your uniform, no, a Lieutenant, one of the newer additions to the crew.

"Alright, let's get a move on." Pike said as he nodded his head to Erica. Looking over at Spock he gestured his hands "Spock, Lieutenant L/n, Lieutenant L/n, Lieutenant Commander Spock."

Yours and Spock's eyes locked and neither of you could ignore the odd recognition that seemed to hit you. Maybe you had met at the academy.

Bowing your head in greeting, Spock returned the gesture before he spun around to face his station. You nodded once at Pike and Una as a goodbye before you turned and made your way to the lift to start your first assignment on board.

As he heard the lift doors closing, Spock's eyes drifted towards them. He was trying to place you in his memories, as he was sure he had met your before. L/n. The name did seem somewhat familiar as well. Perhaps you had attended the academy together.

Looking back at his station, he quickly became distracted by his work, as you disappeared from his mind. Occasionally, unknowing to him, you did pop back into his mind. But he had no idea it was you, he was thinking of.

By the end of the day, when Spock laid down to sleep. He hoped, that he would once again share one of his soulmates dreams.

He had on occasion, tried to complete a form of mind-connection he had heard some Vulcans could succeed in doing with their soulmate through their shared dreams. But this always failed, which he had decided a long time ago, meant that you were most likely not a Vulcan. That, paired with your dreams often being confusing, and fast paced, the opposite of his helped him to determine this.

For a time, he was concerned and even disappointed that you were not a Vulcan. But over time, as he changed, and had begun to accept his more human side, the thought was much less concerning. You were his soulmate after all, it did not matter what or who you were.

Lying in his bed, he stared up at the ceiling, once again thinking about how he had missed you at the Starbase. Closing his eyes, he waited patiently as he began to drift to sleep. Hoping he would once again hear your voice.

--

As Spocks eyes fluttered open as his alarm woke him up. He acknowledged that your dream had been more stressful than normal. Though he was already forgetting what happened, he could feel the anxious energy still pulsing through him.

Sitting up, he tried to think back on what had happened. Occasionally he would recall a small detail, but none that ever made much sense. This time, he had the oddest recollection, that your dream had occurred in space, possible even a Starship. As he closed his eyes, trying to force the dream to come forward in his memory, he felt it slip away instead.

Letting out a deep breath, he began to get ready, aware that the recent incident with hearing his soulmates voice was effecting his ability to suppress his emotions. They pressed heavily in his mind, trying to force their way out.

He attempted to distract himself with thoughts of his duties and the most recent mission the Enterprise would be taking on. As he stood at the back of the lift with a couple crew members, he had begun to succeed in distracting his thoughts.

But when the lift doors opened and the two crew-members filed out, his ears caught on that same, familiar voice in the nearby corridor. As the doors shut, Spock felt a jolt of panic rush through him as he grabbed the handle. "Deck C", his voice came out rushed and loud.

The lift stopped before returning to the floor it had just been on. As the door slid open, Spock quickly stepped out, looking around rapidly. He felt his stomach clench as he once again saw no one around.

Walking down the corridor, he listened, but heard no voices. Turning, he walked the other way and did the same. Still hearing no one. Had he just imagined it? Had his thoughts of you come forward so suddenly he thought they were real?

Or perhaps it was just someone that sounded similar? Taking a moment to acknowledge the possibility that you were on the Enterprise, he felt his heart fluttering in an unfamiliar manner.

There were plenty of crew-members he had never met in person, never even spoken too. Could you have been here for a long time and he never knew? There were also multiple new crew-members and ensigns, could you be one of them? Or, had he just been mistaken?

Spock remained in the corridor for much longer than he meant too, longer then he should. But he could not get over the fact that you might be here, on the ship.

-----------

Standing in the lift, you felt a bit nervous as you made your way to the bridge. You had only been on the Enterprise for a few days now, but were beginning to acclimate nicely.

You had just finished your first research assignment aboard the Enterprise, and was told to take it directly to Mr Spock, as he was overseeing the primary research mission.

This would be the first time you would ever actually interact with him, and you couldn't help but feel nervous. What if he found numerous errors in your report, or did not like the way you completed your research? What if you missed something obvious?

As the lift door slid open, you took a deep breath and stepped onto the bridge. Looking over towards Spock's station, you felt an odd mix of relief and disappointment when you saw he was not there.

"Y/n, need something?"

Turning to the voice of the Captain, you stood a little straighter. "My apologies Captain. I came to give my report to Spock, I did not realize he was no longer here."

"Oh, you just missed him." Una said as she stood and walked over to you. "I'll take it."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course." She smiled politely. "I've been hearing quite a lot about this research project and I wanna see how it's going."

"Always curious to know everything, huh?" The Captain commented with a smile, to which Una replied with a silent raised brow in his direction.

Giving it to her, you smiled again "I appreciate it Commander."

"How are you liking it on the Enterprise so far Y/n?" The Captain asked.

"Very well Captain, thank you. It's better than some said it would be."

He smiled "Good, I'm glad."

As he turned back towards the front of the bridge, you gave one last look of appreciation to Una, and made your way back to the lift. You weren't sure what you felt more of, relief that you would not directly see Spock's reaction to your report, or disappointment of having not spoken to him.

'I wonder what his voice sounds like?' You thought to yourself, realizing you did not recall ever hearing him speak.

A quick thought of him being your soulmate passed through your mind, causing your ears to burn a bit.

'That's ridiculous.' You thought, though you could not get rid of the thought easily.

---

Upon walking back into the bridge, Spock stopped as Una approached him, handing him a padd "You missed Lieutenant L/n."

Taking the padd, he looked down to see the report for the research you had been assigned.

"It's good." Una commented before she turned and returned to her station.

Sitting down, Spock read quickly over the data you had gathered. Raising one brow as he read, he was impressed at how much attention to detail you took, especially having finished the report so quickly.

The tone and language of your report seemed familiar to him, adding to his idea that the two of you must have met before. He was often able to place people in his memory easily, so why was it so hard to place you?

As he read over your report one more time, he found himself reading the words with the voice of his soulmate. Upon realizing this, he felt his heart begin to race a bit faster. He had never done that before. So why was he now?

-----------

As Spock stood beside the Captain in the lift, he stared straight ahead, unaware that the Captain had been speaking to him.

"Spock!" The Captain said a bit louder, causing Spock to suddenly look over at him with a look of surprise.

Pike let out a soft laugh "Whats got you so distracted?"

Spock remained silent for a moment, as he considered telling Pike what had happened in the last week.

"I must admit Captain, that, something has happened recently that has caused my mind to become distracted."

"Yeah, no kidding." Pike chuckled. "So, what is it?"

"Do you recall that I told you, the detail of my soulmate's dreams that I remember is the sound of their voice?"

"Yes, I do."

"When we were on the Starbase, I heard the voice of my Soulmate, but did not see them. And I was unable to locate them."

Pike stared at Spock in mild shock. "Oh."

"That is not all."

Pike motioned his head for Spock to continue, clearly intrigued to hear more.

"Two days ago, as I was on the lift, when the doors opened, I heard their voice coming from Deck C. But by the time I made it into the corridor, there was no one there."

Pikes look of surprise grew as he smiled. "Your soulmate is on the Enterprise?"

"I believe so."

"Believe?"

"It is possible it was only someone who sounded familiar. Or, because the fact that I heard them on the Starbase has been heavy on my mind, it caused me to momentarily hallucinate the sound of their voice."

Pike stared at Spock with a bit of a dumbfounded expression. And as the lift doors opened, Pikes attention was taken away from Spock, and instead to the view outside the ship. "What the-" Looking back at Spock he lightly smacked his shoulder. "We'll talk about this later."

Spock's eyes followed the Captains gaze, seeing the reason he and the Captain had been called to the bridge in the first place. The Enterprise had been trapped in an unusual distortion field.

Shoving the thoughts of you to the back of his mind, Spock made his way to his station.

----------

Rushing towards the lift breathlessly you let out a deep sigh as you made your way up to the bridge.

While attempting to escape the distortion field, communications through the entire ship were effected, and no one could be contacted except through word of mouth. So, somehow, you ended up playing messenger.

As you exited the lift, still a bit breathless, you paused briefly as all eyes turned to land on you. You met Spock's briefly before you approached the Captains chair.

"Please tell me Hemmer's got something?"

You let out a breath and nodded your head. "Yes Sir, he has access to all of the ships controls, and believes that once we reset the system, communications will come back online."

As you began to speak, Spock felt his whole body freeze, as his breath hitched in his throat. He stared at you intensely, listening to your voice, knowing there was no mistaking it now. Now that undeniable feeling of knowing you made sense. He did know you, just not in the way he expected.

"Uhm, Spock, are you, okay?"

As Una spoke, your eyes moved to Spock, and you felt a sudden jolt of surprise as you saw him staring at you with an intense gaze.

Pike looked over at him as well, and as Spock's eyes met his briefly, and Pike noted a momentary panic in Spock's eyes, it clicked for him. Looking at you, as you were clearly confused and a bit alarmed, Pike repressed a grin.

Pike cleared his throat. "Spock, do me a favor and go down to Engineering with Hemmer and make sure everything goes to plan." Looking over at you he smiled. "Go with him."

You opened your mouth to question him, but instead nodded. "Yes Sir."

Turning to head to the lift you watched Spock stand up stiffly, his eyes still on you. Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest as you felt anxiety seep in. What was gong on?

As you entered the lift, Spock entered right behind you, before standing right next to you, your arms almost touching. You could tell his breathing was uneven, and you began to worry something was wrong with him.

When the lift doors shut, Una looked over at Pike with a look of confusion. Pike smiled at her. "I'll tell you later."

After a moment you realized Spock was not reaching for the lift handle to take you to Engineering. Guessing he must have been waiting for you to do it, you began to reach out, but stopped when Spock's hand shot out and grabbed it.

You stopped your own movement, and looked at his profile. You felt your breath hitch in your throat as he looked over at you, his gaze still intense.

"Uhm, is there a problem with Hemmers plan Sir? It seemed to take you by surprise. If you think there is a better way I believe he would be open to suggestions."

Spock stared at you in silent observation as you spoke. Hearing your voice, seeing you speak, not in a dream, but instead, right in front of him. He was surprised and a bit unsettled at how much it was effecting him.

You felt the tension in the lift build as Spock did not respond to you. You began to grow even more worried for him.

"Are you feeling alright-" "I believe we should talk."

As you heard him speak at the same time as you, you felt your breath catch in your throat. Your mind immedietely seemed to short-circuit. 'That was- His voice was- Was that why he was staring so intensely at me? Because he knew my voice too?'

As Spock saw the realization cross your face, he felt a bit subdued as he watched you. The tension was still obvious, but it felt different now.

You felt stunned, but recalled what it was you had originally been doing. "I- uhm, I should let Hemmer know that the he reset the system." You voice was soft, subdued, and your eyes never left Spock's.

Spock nodded softly. "Yes, that is a good idea. Engineering."

As the lift began to move, you felt unsure of what to say, or do. Looking back at Spock you swallowed nervously. "After I do, what- should we-?"

Spock looked at you softly, understanding that you were now as thrown off about this situation as he was. "Once you advise Hemmer that he can reset the systems, we could go to my quarters to speak in private."

'God, how did his voice sound so much deeper and soothing in person?'

You nodded your head. "Alright."

-------

As you stepped into Spock's quarters, you were surprised at how it looked. You wren't sure what you had been expecting, but it wasn't this.

"Would you like a drink?"

You spun around to meet his gaze and shook your head. "No, I am alright, thank you."

You stood in silence for a moment, before Spock stepped closer. "I must admit, though I am sure it was obvious, I was quite surprised when I heard your voice. I apologize for how I reacted, it was..unlike me."

You shook your head a bit. "It's alright, I understand, I was just as shocked when you spoke in the lift."

"I think I should tell you, that heard your voice on the Starbase, the day you transferred to the Enterprise. I did not see who you were, and was, disappointed, that I could not find you. As well as that, a few days ago, I heard your voice on Deck C, but again, was too late to see you. I was beginning to think my mind may have been playing tricks on me."

You were a bit surprised by this, and let out a soft laugh, Spock rose one brow in perplexity.

"I'm sorry, I just. That reminded me of something my mother once told me. That sometimes fate likes to tease you a bit before allowing you happiness."

Spock tilted his head a bit in thought. "That is quite fitting for this situation."

You smiled at him, and Spock felt his heart flutter a bit at the sight.

You spoke softly, "Can I ask you something?"

He nodded his head "Of course."

"When you first saw me, did you recognize me? Or did you have a moment where you swore you knew me from somewhere?"

Spock rose his brow and nodded. "Yes, I did."

You nodded with a smile. "So did I. I thought maybe we met at the academy, but, I don't think that was it."

"We may not be able to remember our shared dreams, but somewhere in our subconscious we do. It most likely triggered the familiarity, when we first saw each other."

"That makes sense." You nodded as you turned, looking around his room a bit more. "I always tried to remember parts of your dreams. But the main thing, was that they were always calm, subdued." You looked back at him, and saw a hint of a smile. "I suppose it makes sense now, why they are like that."

"And it makes sense as to why your dreams are much more...active than mine. I assumed years ago that you were not Vulcan based on the confusion and often delirium your dreams would leave me in once I woke."

You let out a soft laugh. "Yeah, I always have rather fast paced dreams. Especially if I am stressed. But that made yours much easier to appreciate. And, I've always found your voice quite soothing."

If Spock blushed, he would have in this moment. "I have always thought the same of yours as well."

Thinking back a moment, you asked cautiously. "Are you...disappointed that I am not a Vulcan?"

"I must admit, that the thought did trouble me at first, as I have often struggled with my human and Vulcan sides. But I can now, confidently, and truthfully say, that I am most certainly not disappointed."

You felt your neck and ears burning, as your heart palpitated.

He added on, almost carefully "What about you? I assume I am not what you expected."

"I think you might be more than I expected actually. And I do mean that as a compliment."

Another hint of a smile could be seen on his face, and you felt an odd sense of pride because of it.

Spock's eyes glanced at the clock in his room, and he cleared his throat lightly. "Perhaps you would like to accompany me to get some dinner? Then we can talk more about, our future."

'Our future'.

You felt a shiver run up yours pine. That's right. It hadn't truly hit you until this moment. He was your soulmate, connected by fate. From this moment you would no longer be waiting for him to be a part of your life. Instead, the rest of your lives would be connected, and spent together.

You smiled "I'd like that."

xx End xx

Sorry for the abrupt ending, but I wasn't sure if I should continue or not lol.

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @caswinchester2000, @imaginesfire, @rexit-mo, @onuen Star Trek Taglist: @starfleetimagines, @groovy-lady, @asgardianhobbit98, @agent-catfish-kenobi

[sleepymccoy]

@myriadism

Well this is my game for the day!

The Hawk and The Dove is one of those on planet episodes where there's a rebellion group vs the government in some way. I think the hawk dove stuff is not textual in the ep, but you get this vibe that the rebellion are peaceful whereas the government is cruel. But as the ep goes on we discover that the rebellion are the hawk parallel and the government are actually good, and we had shutters on as viewers because we were only exposed to one version of the story at the start of things. I think there's gotta be a scene at the start where Spock is like "we don't know anything about this planet, we need to observe before we go down" but they don't cos something important happens (hot woman in distress) and Spock gets a bit of an I told you so in at the end

Stratagem is an episode that shows us Kirk's Kobayashi Maru skills. It's some powerful alien group that put the enterprise in an impossible choice situation to judge humanity and Kirk pretends to take it at face value while secretly deploying people to fuck with the wiring behind the scenes. I think it would be a cool Scotty-led away mission while Spock and Kirk run a distraction performance with the aliens so Scotty can get his work done

At the end of eternity... I'm not sure, there's a few ways to go with this. Could have a character live out their life like Picard did in that ep with the whistle then have to come back to the ship. Devastating if it's McCoy.

Actually, a cool kinda idea would be coming across a generational space ship that doesn't have warp. Get a good ethics talk about first contact, space faring vs warp capacity vs they're gonna die. They of course board and meet the generations crew and the generation people have this view of the meeting as the end of eternity cos they were prepared to live in their cylinder for ever. I reckon the planet they left has collapsed, they're the last survivors of their race. I think the enterprise'd help them repopulate a random habitable moon, I think that's a star trek vibe. Get some assistance from starfleet to set up, but try to leave the culture unprodded too much because they technically haven't reached warp capability yet so shouldnt be contacted. It would be a fairly psychological episode with McCoy and Spock arguing about the cultural impact of living on a ship, and coming to terms with some of the more distasteful things they'd do to survive with minimal resources (is cannibalism something 1960s star trek can discuss?)

I dreamt last night that I had to come up with as many star trek episode titles as possible. Let's see if I can remember my list

For the world is hollow and I have touched the sky

The corbomite manoeuvre

The man trap

The gamester of rapscallion

The ex wife

I've never been here

Spock's head (I mean, cmon, I was so close. This one does have different vibes tho)

Jesus take the wheel

In the dream they were all correct

[silverbackwolf14]

honestly i just want qcard where q throws picard into different periods (a la qpid)

SO SORRY THAT THIS TOOK SO LONG! I have been dead to the world, and honestly, I wrote this in two sittings, one where I was happy and content, and on where I was in kind of a funky mood. So, if the vibe drastically changes at some point, I am so sorry I have no idea what I'm doing. Hope y'all enjoy!

------------

The gentle sighing of strings pulled themselves across the room as Data performed. Quick beat sixteenth notes jumping in time with the holographic performers performing with him. The subconscious tap of Riker’s foot popped in and out of sound as the song swelled and then recede to a softened tremor of song. Bach’s violin Concerto No. 1 was a difficult yet elegant piece, and Data played with such masterful skill.

Picard listened in silence, noting every movement of Data’s bow and every graceful movement of his fingers. A sense of ease came over the captain, a rare moment of calm. A smile caught the corner of his mouth. A flash appeared beside him. All sense of well being was lost.

“He plays quite well!” Q whispered to the stodgy captain. “Bach himself would have been impressed!”

Picard prayed he was the only one to see Q, and he supposed that he was, otherwise Riker would have been shouting by now.

“It’s rude to speak during a performance.” Picard whispered back, trying to sound as angry as he could without shouting.

“Oh, never mind that. They can’t hear us anyway.”

Picard looked around and saw that it must be true. Every head was turned towards Data, enraptured by his recital.

“Besides,” Q continued. “It would be a shame if Bach never got to listen to his finest performer.”

A bright flash of light filled the recital hall. The smell of stale air was replaced with that of roses and well-manicured lawn. The dim blue lights of the Enterprise were replaced with that of the glaring sun, sweltering down upon them.

Upon a small stage stood Data, continuing to play as though nothing was wrong. Long gone was his uniform. Data wore a garish set of frills and patterns, topped off with a white powdered wig, the same shade as his long white socks.

An itch ran wild across Picard’s scalp, and a sudden scratch revealed that he too wore an awful wig. A small chortle alerted him to Q who sat next to him in scarlet garb and a long curly brown wig that fell past his shoulders in perfect ringlets.

“Q! Return us to the Enterprise at once!”

Q gave him a sideways glance, then returned his gaze to Data. “Come now, Jean-Luc, would you really deprive Bach of such an experience? Or Data for that matter? Look over there.” Q’s gloved hand pointed to a man with his mouth agape, for had ever such a marvelous performance been given? Picard recognized him as the composer, Bach himself!

“Dammit Q! you’re going to mess up the timeline!” Picard had half a mind to throw his wig at him.

“I promise that no harm will come to your precious timeline. Tea?” Q offered him a delicately ornate teacup, beguiled with strands of gold entwining with small painted flowers.

“No! We can’t stay here Q; I demand you take us back at once! I am not in the mood for one of your games!”

“You’re never in the mood.” Q pouted.

A bright flash consumed the scenery until drops of color made their way across Picard’s eyes, painting the next scene.

The rain beat upon the wooden deck, as the waves of the sea rocked the ship, almost capsizing the magnificent vessel. Spooked into action, Picard avoided a slimy pale tentacle racing its way across the deck. Several more tentacles had reached their way around the ship, grabbing crew members, and pulling them to their watery deaths. A thunderous below burst from the water.

“It doesn’t matter where I take you does it?” Q’s voice rang from the crashing waves.

Lightning flashed across the sky, destroying the scene.

Strobing colors flashed across the floor while the music blared endlessly. Bodies pushed against one another in an endless wave. Arms swayed and legs kicked to the deafening bass. A familiar hand found his and pulled him through the crowd. The words of the song caught up with his ears, singing: “The location will never be right, because you hate to have me in your sight.” One of the lights moved to stare him in the eye.

When Picard regained his sight, he sat in the woods. His uniform gone, replaced by some crude animal skin tunic. A large rock weighed heavy in his hands. From the bushes Q emerged, holding a torch of fire, setting everything next to him ablaze. “No matter how hard I try, no matter what gifts I have to give, you will never accept anything from me.”

The fire consumed him. Each tongue of flame another scene, another universe, burning into his brain. The roar of the flames turned to a broken half-scream. “WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?”

The horrendous bonfire of places and things and feelings threatened to destroy him. This was more than he was ever meant to see. “I WANT SOME DAMN QUIET Q!”

It stopped. Suddenly. No softening and waning. Simply a pop, and the familiar carpeting of the Enterprise returned.

Picard caught his breath, bracing himself over his desk, willing himself to not get sick. When he finally looked up, Q sat on the couch in silence. Not moving, not speaking. Simply being there taking up space.

They both sat that way for a while. Neither one making eye contact, ignoring one another despite the thick awkwardness that refused to leave, just like Q. In the silence Picard began to think because what else is there to do in silence? Q’s meltdown left several questions scurrying across his brain. He’d gone off rather quickly over nothing, of course, Q tended to do that. But this seemed different. Q always had an air of humor or indifference about him, this episode of his was grounded in anger and desperation.

The longer he pondered, the more aware of the silence he became. It crawled on his skin, and into his ears until it became unbearable. It wasn’t natural for Q to be quiet this long. Picard wasn’t even sure until this moment that Q knew how to be quiet.

“I don’t want anything from you Q.” Picard whispered, unsure of his own volume. Q remained silent. Taking a deep breath, Picard continued. “I don’t want anything because I don’t need anything. You seem to be under some sort of assumption that I should want to go to these places, to be whisked away on a whim.” Q’s form sat unnaturally still. Not a blink, not a breath. A perfect life-like statue. “You don’t need to give me anything.”

The silence resumed. Picard had nothing left to say other than ordering Q off his ship, but now didn’t seem like the right time. To be perfectly honest, Picard was almost afraid of causing another tantrum.

“If I don’t give you something, you won’t have me around. I’m only wanted when gifting my powers.” Q’s form remained still, his mouth unopened, but his words reverberated through the air.

“Q that can’t be true.” Picard insisted.

“Val only went because she wanted a free ride to adventure and money, Tilan only wanted me for power over those who had wronged him, Greim wanted beautiful riches, and so on and so forth. If I don’t give you something, you won’t tolerate me.”

‘I barely tolerate you now.’ Picard thought to himself. “Q, if all you’re wanting is to be around me, then all you need to do is ask.”

“You don’t mean that. You hate when I’m around.” Q’s mouth made a few strange movements, not lining up with the words he “spoke”, but it was a start.

“You can be draining at times, but so are most people. You just happen to choose the worst possible times to visit. You also tend to bring tests and chaos with you on your visits.”

Q turned to look at Picard. “You’d really let me visit?”

A smile tugged at the corners of Picard’s lips. “I think that could be arranged.”

No more was left to say. The conversation over. Rather than the ear scraping sound of silence, a simpering sweet melody wafted through the room, a violin, playing Bach’s violin concerto No. 1. Nothing more was needed.

[dragon-kazansky]

You before me | Christopher Pike

Gender neutral reader

Dedicated to @lieutenantn

Angst ahead!

He had never felt fear like it. This was a whole new kind of pain and he hated it. He wouldn't wish this one anyone, but he can't stop it from hurting him.

Being shot would have hurt a lot less.

But you had prevented that from happening. The moment he was in danger, you pushed him away and took the hit meant for him.

His heart ached as he cradled you to him, but his glare was on the enemy. Michael picked up her phaser and gave chase. Pike needed to stay with you.

It hurt. All over. You gaze up at him with blurry eyes.

"Chris..."

Blue eyes flicker down to yours and he shakes his head. You can see tears threatening to fall, but he won't let them. Not yet.

The world will hear his sorrow when the time comes.

"Why did you do that?" He asks.

"Would you... rather it be you?" You ask, keeping your voice quiet. It hurt to even do this much.

"Yes," he admits.

You give him a sad smile and try to pretend you weren't in a world of pain right now. You didn't have the energy to move.

"You're a fool of you think I was going to let our captain possibly die. They need you..." you tell him.

He shakes his head again.

"I need you."

You would smile, but you can't find the strength anymore. Your eyes close and you pass out.

Pike panics.

He shakes his head a little harsher this time and calls your name. Each time it gets louder and more desperate.

You're not waking up.

Help from the Discovery arrives and they have to pry you from his arms. He refuses to let go, but they force him to.

You're immediately taken back onboard the Discovery into med-bay.

They prevent Chris from entering. He closes up, shuts his emotions out. They won't let him in to see you and he is not about to fight with the crew.

Silently, almost too silently, he walks to his quarters. The door closes behind him and no one sees him for hours.

When Michael gets word you're in a stable condition, and then hears from Saru that the captain has not been seen or heard from for hours, she goes to him.

He does not answer the door when she arrives.

"They're awake," she says through the intercom. She knows he won't come to the door and it's the beat she can do.

Those words set light in him again.

Pike had done nothing but stare out of his window into space. If you died on him, he didn't know what he would do. If you lived, he was going to do whatever it took to never see you like that again.

Christopher stands over you in the med-bay. You're asleep. You're alive.

Slowly, he reaches out and takes your hand in his. His finger brush over your pulse and jaw can feel it.

He smiles.

Pike sits and keeps hold of your hand. His eyes do not stray from your face. You're so beautiful. So lovely.

It feels like hours pass by as he sits there waiting for you. The captain refuses to move until he sees you wake up. He needs to hear your voice and see your eyes.

When your eyes do open he is on high alert. He sits up and grasps your hand a little tighter.

That ache in his chest settles, finally.

Your gaze meets his. You say nothing.

He, however, does.

"Promise me you'll never do that again."

You stare at him in silence.

A soft sigh escapes past his lips and he stares back.

"You scared the Hell out me, I hope you know that."

You smile softly.

He's not smiling, but he's not looking at you with any disdain. He just holds your hand and looks at you.

"I get to live another day," you whisper.

"And I'm more than happy for that, but I could have lost you."

"The Enterprise needs it's Captain back. I'm replaceable."

"No, you're not."

He lifts your hand up to rest over his heart. His fingers squeeze lightly.

"Christopher..."

"From the moment you took that shot, I've been in pain. I have never felt an ache like it. Please, don't ever do that again."

You stare at him with a tear filled gaze.

"I'm sorry," you whisper.

Chris leans in and kisses you softly. Fingers brushing through your hair as he tries to comfort you.

You apologise over and over, but he's not having that.

"You need to rest."

"You need sleep," you say, looking at him.

Chris smiles and nods.

"I'll sleep of you do."

You nod and gaze at him a little bit longer before you close your eyes and try to sleep. Chris wasn't going anywhere, you knew from the way he still clutched your hand.

When you were healed, you would make it up to him.

You never wanted to be the reason he was in pain.

[ohtheclevernessof]

A Quarter Vulcan: a Spuhura fanfiction

Spock wants to rediscuss the Helping Vulcan Repopulate discussion with Nyota. This is set a few weeks after the Krall attack at Yorktown. Enjoy my first Star Trek fiction

Spock and Nyota were in his temporary quarters in Yorktown going over briefings from the Krall attack over cups of tea. They had spent the last few weeks since the attack rekindling their relationship as Spock healed from his injury but he felt there was still some things that had been left unsaid.

“Nyota, I wish to revisit that last conversation we had on the Enterprise.” he spoke up, cutting the quiet silence of  the room.  Nyota looked up from the article she was reading, momentarily confused until she realized just what conversation her Vulcan boyfriend meant. “You meaning the one where you told me you wanted to help repopulate Vulcan?” she asked hesitantly, not sure why he would bring that up now especially since it was essentially why they broke up.  

She had felt so hurt that Spock didn't see a future with her and the fact that he had wanted help repopulate Vulcan he would need a Vulcan woman not her. She could never give him the full Vulcan children he wanted for his planet and she had felt like she was less in his eyes for it.

“Yes. I have come to realization that my idea was highly illogical and incredibly self serving because it completely disregarded your feelings.” Spock said as he looked at her honestly. Nyota let out the breath she didn't know she had been holding as it became clear that he was trying to apologize to her in his own way. She set down the reports on the table next to her and nodded for him to continue his thoughts.

“Father has often said to me as Child of Two Worlds that my desires for both of them will always be in conflict and he has been correct in his assumptions so far as even you have been privy to it. There has only been one absolute in all this that has not wavered and that is my care for you. Nyota, that is not something I take lightly and it has brought me to the conclusion that it would be more then just acceptable if our offspring would be only a quarter Vulcan.”

Nyota's eyes went wide at his words, she had not expected the conversation to go in this direction or for Spock to admit this so suddenly. But then again he was one to speak his mind at times when no one expected it so it shouldn't have surprised her that much.

“I think you are getting a bit ahead of yourself. We aren't even married yet and you are talking about our possible future children already.” she said with a amused laugh.

“Is that a desire you have? If it is, I would not be opposed to it, on the contrary it would be a great honor for me to take you as my Human wife. Just as my father did with my mother.” Spock admitted in his usual serious tone as he reached over and gently took her hand in his. Nyota blinked at him once again, he was definitely catching her off guard but it wasn't unwelcome. With all that they had faced together since she had entered the academy and then on the Enterprise. The pain, the hurt, the near death experiences, it wouldn't be outrageous to think that maybe the next step in their relationship would be on both if their minds,

“Is this you trying to propose?” Nyota asked him with a curious smile and all Spock could do for a moment was blink back surprised himself. Had his intention in this conversation to propose her at this moment? Sure he had been considering proposing to her, even researched it but had he meant so suddenly like this?

“I suppose I am... Although in my research of the subject, it seems customary for Human marriage proposals for a ring to be involved. If you wish me to table this discussion until I have procured one, I would...”

He found himself stopped in mid sentence by Nyota's finger to his lip and he looked back at her curious.

“Spock, I would love to be your wife.” she said simply as she leaned over and replacing her finger with her lips, sealing her words with a soft kiss that he gratefully reciprocated before pulling away gently.

“I do have one request for you. That you allow me to raise our offspring as Vulcan despite them being only a quarter but do so with the promise that they may choose to live as a Human if they so desire. The same option my father gave me.” Spock whispered, as he pressed his forehead to hers. “I would expect nothing less from you.” Nyota said with a grin as she pulled him closer and her lips found Spock's once more.

“You were researching how to propose? My god man, do you have even a ounce of romance in that pointy eared head of yours?” Bones exclaimed with a scoff at Spock's way of doing things. Even though he considered the Vulcan his friend, he still couldn't make sense of him about half the time.

The following day Spock found himself being practically interrogated by Bones after the news had been spread through the Enterprise crew chambers about Nyota's and his engagement.

“You mean to tell me your entire proposal was based off if you wanted Vulcan kids or not?” Bones questioned the  half Vulcan dubiously, crossing his arms. Spock sighed, looking back at him. “I can understand how it could be perceived in that fashion but it was not my intention. I had been researching proper Human proposals before this but I had not decided on the correct method.”

“What Uhura sees in you, I will never understand.” Bones said with smirk, shaking his head.

“I do not find that relevant to this discussion.” Spock replied flatly to Bone's accusation, frowning at him unamused. “Regardless Nyota seems pleased so I believe it was the correct action even though it was unplanned.”

[wefoundloveunderthelight]

Truth or Dare by GleefullyCaptainSwan

Chapter 1 of 1

Read on AO3 or on FF

Stacy's Tortured Crew: @teamhook @kmomof4 @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @mariakov81 @qualitycoffeethings @zaharadessert @jrob64 @jonesfandomfanatic @natascha-ronin @tiganasummertree @xarandomdreamx @therooksshiningknight @batana54 @superchocovian @onceratheart18 @ultraluckycatnd @snowbellewells @karlyfr13s @the-darkdragonfly @xsajx @deckerstarblanche @jonesfandomfanatic @winterbaby89

Summary: When David Nolan sends Emma Swan and Killian Jones on a simple overnight business trip to Denver, the two just want to take care of negotiations and return home. But the storm of the century has other plans as they embark on a night of discovery, learning more about their co-worker than either anticipated.

Notes: This fic really has no point, I've been in a weird place, my WIPs are going nowhere so I wrote this one for fun to shake the cobwebs, so I hope you enjoy this little smutty trip to Denver.

Truth or Dare

“So, I’m going to need to send someone to Denver tomorrow.” Everyone in the room groaned and Emma tried to sink down in her chair. She hoped by making herself smaller, David wouldn’t see her, wouldn’t select her to travel this weekend. It’s not like she had plans, except to maybe binge watch the next few episodes of Bridgerton before Season 2 started up.

“Emma, I really need you there.” She internally groaned but smiled at her boss.

“Of course, I’m all over it, you can count on me, Boss.” He nodded and then turned his head to the other side of the large table.

“Killian, your input might be of use here.”

Emma wanted to slide under the table. Why on earth would David send Killian with her?

“Sir?”

“I think it’s important for you to provide your marketing experience to the executives.”

“Of course.” He remarked and Emma rolled her eyes, she didn’t need Killian’s experience in anything, she could handle a simple business negotiation without him but who was she to argue with David Nolan?

Emma stood from the table and hurried back to her office to book her travel. The moment she closed her door it opened behind her.

“Do you fly United, love?”

Her eyes literally rolled back in her head before she turned around. She looked up to see Killian Jones standing in her doorway. “You already know that’s the preferred partner of Nolan Industries.”

“I can book the hotel if you book the flight, might be easier if we divide and conquer on such short notice.”

“Yeah whatever.” She said, barely looking in his direction as she sat down at her desk.

“Alright, well, just email me the flight information. Did you need a ride to the airport tomorrow?”

“I can get there myself.” She said shortly, hoping he would just leave but realizing he was still standing in her doorframe. She sighed and then looked up to meet his gaze. “I’ll just meet you there.”

He smiled hesitantly as he finally started to leave. “Sure, sounds good. See you tomorrow.”

Emma kept her eyes on the screen in front of her, the last thing she needed to think about was a whole weekend alone with Killian Jones.

It wasn’t that she hated him, he seemed nice enough, she just didn’t spend a lot of time getting to know the people in her office, choosing instead to spend her time alone in her apartment after work, curled up with a glass of wine and a good book.

Killian had started working for the company about two years ago and while every woman at the company tripped over themselves to get to know him, she had better things to do.

Now she was going to have to spend an entire weekend alone with him in Denver. Her only hope was that the negotiations would be simple, and she would be back in her hotel room before he got on her nerves or even worse, tried to get to know her better.

~*~

Killian stared out the window as the plane made it’s decent. He hadn’t expected David to pick him for this trip, yet here he was, landing in Denver to negotiate an important deal for the company. Things were finally looking up for him professionally.

He could see the blonde hair of his travel partner from the top of her seat. He wasn’t surprised to find that Emma had booked his seat three rows behind her instead of beside her. They weren’t exactly acquaintances, in fact, Killian had yet to really make an impact on the woman since joining the company two years ago.

Not for lack of trying on his part, yet she seemed disinterested in talking to him beyond the occasional “how was your weekend” question as they passed each other in the hallway. Normally it didn’t take much for a woman to show interest in talking to him, generally he spent more time running from the women in his office than he did chasing one. This made Emma Swan intriguing, infuriating, and somewhat of an enigma to him.

They sat in silence on the cab ride to the hotel, large flakes of snow falling all around them outside the car.

“It’s the storm of the century.” The cab driver lamented. “Can’t say I’ve seen worse weather in all my time living here.”

“Wonderful.” Emma complained beside him.

“They’re saying the power is out all over town. I’ll be surprised if your hotel even has heat.”

“I’m sorry what?” Emma raised her voice and Killian reached out to still the woman beside him.

“I’m sure it’s fine, Swan.”

“How do you know; you are arriving at the same time as me?”

“Storm of the century.” He smirked, staring at her in annoyance, there was nothing he was going to say to put her at ease. And to his utter chagrin, when they arrived at the hotel he was quick to notice that the entrance was filled with candles, lighting the way to the front desk.

“So, it’s not fine then.” She remarked sarcastically as he held the door open for her.

It was going to be a bloody long weekend.

~*~

Emma looked around the lobby of the mostly dark hotel. Of course she would be traveling to Denver in the middle of a snowstorm. They had received a phone call letting them know that due to the weather, the meeting had been delayed until the morning, so now all she wanted to do was to get to her room, climb under the covers, forget about the entire trip, and go to bed early.

Killian approached her after talking to the desk clerk and she could already see from the look on his face, she wasn’t going to like what he had to say. “Alright Swan, do you want the good news or the bad news?”

She stared at her traveling partner in disgust. “Why is there bad news?”

“Storm of the century.” He said matter-of-factly, a smirk on his face.

“Fine, good news first.”

“Due to the storm, the restaurant isn’t open tonight, however they are providing dinner to our rooms for free, and the bar is included in the room service.”

“Lovely, then what is the bad news?” She scowled.

“Well love, apparently there was some sort of mix up in the reservation and well…”

She stared at his face, the frown growing on her lips as he hesitated to share whatever horrid news he had. “Spit it out, Jones.”

“They only had one room and well due to the storm, they are booked solid.” He held up the key in front of her. “So…roommate?”

Emma groaned loudly. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I assure you love; I would not joke about such a thing.” He tried to smile but Emma could see he was just as anxious as she was about the situation they were in.

“Fine, we’ll share the room.” She stated begrudgingly, following him up the stairs toward their floor. She was happy that they only had to climb three flights instead of higher into the darkness.

By the time he pushed the door open on room 322, she wanted to just hop in the shower and forget the entire debacle, however the moment she saw the room her heart dropped.

“It’s only got one bed, Jones.” She growled.

“About that, Swan…did I forget to mention the bed situation?”

“Bed Situation? This is more than a bed situation; this is a nightmare.” She complained, dropping her bag on the floor.

“I’ll take the floor, no need to worry. Everything will work itself out.” He shrugged, setting his bag in the corner, and lighting a few of the candles the hotel had offered them.

Emma sighed. “Fine. But I have dibs on the shower first.”

“As you wish, I hope a grilled cheese is satisfactory for dinner? They didn’t have a lot of options.”

Emma exhaled harshly, at least dinner would be to her liking, but she didn’t want to tell Killian that. He was the one who screwed up the reservation after all. She knew she should have planned her own trip. “It will do.” She said shortly as she stepped into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

~*~

Killian set the food out on the table, listening to the shower still running in the bathroom. The last thing he expected on this trip was to be sharing a room with Emma Swan, The Ice Princess of the Boardroom.

The bathroom door opened, and Emma stepped out in a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, her wet hair was pulled up into a towel on top of her head. He had never seen her look so relaxed outside of the office.

“Dinner is served, though it seems a bit cold.” He shrugged. “I supposed I’ll shower now since it won’t affect the temperature of the food if I wait or not.”

He retreated to the bathroom, quickly closing the door behind him to step into the hot shower and wash away the stress of the trip. He knew it wouldn’t be long until all the hot water was gone.

To be honest, the trip wasn’t a total nightmare. It wasn’t that he minded traveling for Nolan Industries, he had been grateful to David Nolan for taking him on, glad that there were still people willing to put their trust in him after what had happened at Gold Enterprises.

But being stuck in this hotel room with Emma Swan in the middle of the storm of the century was going to take more than just grilled cheese and some blankets on the floor for the trip not to end in a nightmare. He heard a knock on the door and quickly dried off to dress for the night.

When he left the bathroom, he saw the bottle of rum sitting on the table as Emma sat chewing on her sandwich. “You ordered rum? Really?”

“Figured it would keep us warm without the heat.”

“You want to drink a bottle of rum? With no mixers?”

“Sorry Princess, they didn’t have anything else. No need to partake if you can’t handle it.” He groused.

“I didn’t say I couldn’t handle it.” She scoffed defiantly.

They sat through dinner in an uncomfortable silence, chewing their food while ignoring the tight quarters they were being forced to share. He reached for the bottle and poured two glasses. “What do you say? Wanna play a game, love?”

“Excuse me?”

“Fancy a drinking game…unless you have a better idea? Never have I ever?”

“What are you twelve years old?” She laughed, reaching out to take her glass from the table and looking around the room as if she were considering her options.

“Come now, lass, I’ll start…” He paused. “Never have I ever played a drinking game while sitting in the dark with a co-worker.” He quickly took a drink. He watched as she looked at him in confusion. When she didn’t drink he exhaled. “If you’ve done it, you have to drink, Swan.”

“I know how to play the game.” She said dryly, putting the glass to her lips as she swallowed the liquid, her face immediately puckering. “God that’s not even good rum.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers; it warms the blood.” Emma wrapped the blanket around her shoulders.

“Fine, never have I ever gotten a tattoo.” She sat her glass on the table watching him suspiciously. He lifted the glass to his lips and took a sip. “Seriously? Where?”

He lifted his sleeve, showing the ship’s anchor on his shoulder. “Got it when I turned 18.”

“An anchor?”

“Aye, my brother Liam, he was in the Navy when he passed.” Her face dropped.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I had no idea.”

“No harm, lass.” He lowered his sleeve and thought about his next question, wanting to change the topic. “Never have I ever been in love.” After he took a drink, he was surprised when she didn’t. “Bullshit.” He scoffed.

“What? I haven’t.”

“It’s hardly a fair game if you aren’t going to be honest.”

“I am being honest; I’ve never been in love.” She stood up from the table and walked over to the bed. “This is a stupid game, let’s play something else.” She took another drink from her glass.

“Fine, truth or dare, love?”

She giggled loudly, “You’re kidding right? Do you play anything that’s not meant for high school students?” She sighed. “Fine, truth it is, but this is ridiculous.”

~*~

After the third question, Emma was starting to feel the alcohol spinning in her head. “Ok Jones, truth or dare?”

“Let’s shake things up, I’ll take a dare.”

“Oooh, brave.” She giggled and then thought about her options before coming up with something delicious. “Ok then, I dare you to go into the hall, knock on a door of your choosing, and flirt with whoever answers. Gender doesn’t matter.”

“That’s all you’ve got? Dare accepted.” He jumped up from his chair and peeked into the hallway, knocking on the door directly across the hall. The door slammed shut and she jumped up from the bed, peering through the peephole. She could hear his voice on the other side as an elderly woman opened the door.

“Good evening, gorgeous.”

“Can I help you, son?”

“With the storms brewing I thought I would check in on you, make sure that you are doing alright, love.”

“What are you playing at?” The woman asked with a cranky tone.

“I would hate a lovely lass such as yourself to find herself alone and without warmth on a night like tonight. Perhaps you are in need of some company, if you know what I mean?”

Emma put a hand over her mouth to stifle the laugh that escaped, pushing away from the door when Killian returned to the room, his hair and shirt soaking wet. “What happened?”

“Can you believe it; she threw a glass of water on me. Apparently she was not in the need of any company.” He said exasperatedly. Emma couldn’t contain her laughter until he tore the shirt over his head and tossed it to the ground. She swallowed hard as she stared at his naked torso, dark tendrils of hair covering his chest. She climbed back on the bed, dragging the pillow over her lap as she tried to hunker down into the mattress.

Killian plunked down into his chair and stared at her. “Your turn love.” He sighed, finishing his glass of rum, and pouring another round. He held the bottle up to her and she leaned forward, holding her glass up for him to fill. She knew she shouldn’t continue drinking but there was nothing else for the two of them to do anyway.

“I’m not ready for payback, so I’ll choose truth.” She shrugged.

“Have you ever cheated on a partner?”

“That was a waste of a question, never. I wouldn’t do that to someone I was with.” She took a sip of her drink and gestured for him to take his turn.

“Alright love, give me your best truth question.”

Emma bit her lip. “What happened to your brother?”

He seemed surprised by her question, taking a long sip of his drink. “Um…” He paused, almost hesitant to continue. “It was a training incident, his unit got cut off from the rest of the group and he made the call to save his team instead of returning to his family.”

Emma watched as he spoke with sincerity and sadness. Maybe it was the alcohol, but she had never seen Killian seem so genuine before. She almost felt guilty for the way she had been behaving toward him all day, none of this had been his fault, unless he was somehow responsible for the weather.

“He will always be a hero to me.” He lifted his glass and toasted toward the sky. Emma sat in silence, taking a sip of her drink in support. “Alright Swan, your turn.”

“I’ll stay with truth.” She smiled.

He narrowed his eyes. “What’s the most recent lie you’ve told?”

Emma stared at her feet, rocking back in the bed, she bit her lip as she contemplated her answer. “Fine, maybe I have been in love. Once.” She took another drink of her alcohol.

“Why lie about that, lass?”

“I don’t know, I guess being in love with Neal is a piece of my history that is more embarrassing to admit. I mean, he played me, he made me feel like a total idiot.”

“Honestly, I always thought Neal was kind of a douche.”

She cackled loudly. “He was a terrible person but an even worse lover.” She snorted as if she had just told her girlfriend a close secret.

“You alright there, love?” He asked as she buried her face in her pillow. She pulled the pillow away and stared at him.

“Who were you in love with?”

“Sorry?”

“You drank on that question, so who were you in love with?”

“I’m not the one who chose truth, love. That was your question, not mine.” He took another drink before getting up from the table and sitting on the floor. “Alright, bring it on, Swan. Dare.”

~*~

“Truth.”

“Hmm…” He pursed his lips and took another drink. “Best orgasm you’ve ever had?” His eyes never left her face as he watched her cheeks blush.

“Oh God no, no, no, can I change to dare instead?” She laughed, her face looking on in horror.

“I think that’s against the rules, but I’ll allow it.” He brushed his fingers against the stubble at his jaw. “Ok, Swan, I dare you to serenade me with your favorite song.”

“Oh God, I can’t sing…”

“Either you answer the question or give me your best Beyonce. Come on Swan, I believe in you.” He teased with a wink.

Emma took a long swig of her drink and stood up on the bed. “Oh God I can’t believe I’m doing this.” She covered her face with her hands and Killian couldn’t help but recognize how beautiful the woman truly was.

And then she sang, in the loudest voice she could muster, so loud that he half expected the grumpy old woman across the hall to come banging on their door.

“Kiss me beneath the milky twilight

Lead me out on the moonlit floor

Lift your open hand, strike up the band

And make the fireflies dance, silver moon's sparkling

So kiss me”

She held her arms out as she finished her last note and then collapsed on the bed, burying her face in the sheets. “Oh my God I can’t believe I just did that.”

He clapped loudly, holding his drink up toward her. “Well done, Swan. Truly remarkable, loud, but remarkable.”

~*~

After a couple of hours, Emma was starting to feel like she was getting a better understanding of Killian Jones. With each question he shared more of his personality, something that was starting to intrigue her. But…she felt like he was holding something back. She thought about her next question, asking before he finished his glass.

“Why did you leave Gold Enterprises?” She immediately saw the way he flinched at the question. She expected it honestly, the details surrounding Killian’s previous employer was shrouded in mystery. David had only shared that Gold Enterprises loss was Nolan Industries gain.

“Bloody hell, a little bit of alcohol and you go right for the jugular.”

“Are you choosing dare instead?” She asked with a tight smile.

“Fair is fair…” He sucked in a deep breath. “I guess the truth is I wasn’t really given a choice to stay.”

“So, you were fired?” She asked, confirming her earlier suspicion.

“Aye, but to be fair, it was a fate I deserved.”

“Stealing from the company?” She joked.

“You’re not far off.” He said seriously and Emma’s mouth dropped open. She was not expecting that.

“Wait, seriously? You stole from the company and David still hired you?”

“Not from the company, love.” He poured another glass of rum. “I suppose you could say I stole from Mr. Gold.”

“You stole money from Robert Gold?” She asked, a complete feeling of shock overwhelming her.

“Not money, but something he treated with just as much disregard.” He responded sadly. “Robert’s wife, Milah Gold.”

“Oh my God, you had an affair with the boss’s wife?” She dropped the pillow into her lap.

“It’s not as nefarious as you might think. I didn’t seek out an affair, I never intended something so distasteful. You remember when you asked me who the woman was that I loved from our earlier question? Milah was that woman.” He said solemnly.

“I’m guessing you got caught, hence Gold firing you.”

“I wasn’t aware she was Robert’s wife. We met at an office party; it was love at first breath to be honest. We began seeing each other, I should have questioned her insistence on keeping things private, but I only saw what I wanted to see. I was just as surprised as Robert when he caught us in my office, suddenly I saw a completely different side of her. And of course, her husband would believe her word against mine.”

“That’s terrible. I can’t believe she lied to you both.”

“You live and learn. She is and always will be my biggest regret and my greatest weakness.” He took another long drink from his glass, setting the cup back on the table and locking eyes with her. “But damn the sex was good. Best sex of my life…” He winked. “So far.”

Emma buried her face in her hands and laughed. “Oh God. I’ll never have a story like that. I’ve never even had an orgasm during sex much less had the best sex of my life.”

“That my dear is a bloody shame.” He shook his head. “There is no excuse for any man who doesn’t desire being able to make his woman fall apart either by his hand…” He sat up in his seat, “On his tongue, or buried inside of her as she screams your name.” Emma’s cheeks warmed and unconsciously she felt the nervous snort build inside of her before it escaped her mouth, Killian’s brow rose in amusement.

“Those men only exist in porn, fanfiction, or wet dreams. Men are only interested in getting their cocks off.”

He grabbed his chest and exhaled loudly. “You wound a man, Swan.”

“Just being honest.” She shrugged. “At least in my experience.”

He passed her the bottle of rum. “Just who are you, Swan?”

She took the bottle and poured it into her empty glass, trying to ignore the stare of his piercing blue eyes. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

He looked down at his hands for a moment before meeting her eyes again, something dark, yet honest swirling behind his pupils. “Perhaps, I would.”

She swallowed thickly, bringing the glass to her lips to have another sip of her liquid courage before passing the bottle back to him. She sat back on the bed again, trying not to settle her eyes in his lap. Wondering exactly what was behind those delicious sweatpants.

The silence sat thicky between them and Emma bit her lip. “Um it’s my turn…” She closed her eyes and breathed out. “Dare.”

She heard him chuckle before her lids opened, drawing up his body until she met his eyes. His tongue darted out to wet his lips and Emma admonished herself for wondering what he tasted like. “Alright Swan…” He paused, swirling his glass in front of him. “I dare you to let me show you what a real orgasm is like.”

She laughed loudly before realizing that he was serious. “No way.”

“I can’t sit by knowing that my gender has failed you, I think it only fair to right that wrong.”

Emma thought maybe she had drunk too much rum and had obviously passed out. There was no way he was suggesting what she thought he had said. “That’s not happening…we’re not…no.” She laughed, more certain now that if she herself hadn’t had too much to drink, he certainly had.

“Are you refusing the dare?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Seriously? It’s not happening, you and I…never going to happen.”

“I’ve not proposed marriage, love. Are you that terrified of an orgasm?”

“I’m not afraid of…you’re crazy.” She couldn’t think straight, suddenly images of Killian Jones touching her were invading her thoughts, causing reactions she wasn’t prepared for. Was it suddenly hot in here? She fanned herself without thought, seeing the immediate amusement on his face.

“Are you quite sure it’s that crazy? Come now, we’ll make rules, Swan.”

“Rules? No…” She squeezed her legs together, covering herself with her pillows. “No, we’re not making…what kind of rules would we even…?” Oh God, was she considering this?

“You can stay fully dressed, not a stitch of clothing would need to be removed.”

“Yeah right, because that’s possible.” She snorted.

“I can assure you lass, it’s very attainable.” He said seriously, his eyes dark and dangerous. Was he real?

“How are you going to…you know, without even touching me?” Oh God she was talking about this like it was a normal thing. This was not normal, it was crazy.

“I’m quite talented, Swan.” He winked and Emma flushed.

Fuck, she really was considering this.

“So fully clothed…and no kissing.” She heard herself say, barely recognizing her own voice.

“On the mouth.” He smirked. “I think I can accept those terms.”

“You think you can…” She scoffed. “This is crazy.” She shook her head, pulling the pillow up to her face.

“Fully clothed, no kissing on the mouth, anything else?” His voice was deep, did he always sound like that? She thought about what he said, none of this was possible, he was going to touch her through her clothes, he couldn’t kiss her, there was no way she was going to get off that way. Even when she tried to do it herself, it took her a frustratingly long time to get where she needed to be.

“Besides not doing it all, no, there isn’t anything else. I think those rules have already set you up for failure.” She chuckled nervously.

“Then we have an accord.” He sat up in his chair. “Come here, love.”

She swallowed hard. “Over there?”

“Aye.” His eyes locked with hers as she stood from the bed and walked toward him, her legs shaking with each step. She stared down at him as he sat back in the chair. He took her hand and pulled it to his mouth, brushing his lips against her palm. Good Lord, just watching him touch her was enough to leave her shivering. “Sit.” He demanded as he put his hands on her hips and turned her away from him, pulling her down into his lap. “Relax love.” His hands wrapped around her waist, and she felt his breath against her neck, sending electric shockwaves down her back. Her jaw tensed the moment she felt his mouth skim her earlobe.

“Most men fail in this complex task because they don’t pay attention to the cues.” His tongue glided against her neck. “It’s not about what you say, it’s about how she reacts to your words.” Emma shivered as the tenor of his voice vibrated in her ear. “Do you want me to touch you, Emma?”

Her entire body reacted the moment he said her name, she was either lost in a sea of alcohol, or drowning in his voice, currently she didn’t know which but the wetness forming between her legs made it clear that either one was working for her. She bit her lip. “Come, love, use your words.” He teased as his hands slid between her legs. She sat back in his lap, immediately intrigued by the bulge protruding against her backside.

He paused his hands at her thigh, his mouth hot against her ear. “Emma…”

“Yes.” She moaned, feeling his smirk grow against her skin.

“Good girl.” He mewed and the moment the words brushed against her, she melted into his touch. She was putty in his hands, and he was only touching her through her clothes. She could suddenly imagine him doing so much more, thoughts that had her entire body on fire. One hand palmed her mound through her sweatpants while the other traveled up her body, resting under her breast.

She wanted his hands on her, anywhere, as he continued to breathe heavily against her ear. When she moved her hips she heard him groan, a sound so simple yet so full of wanton desire that she thought she might fall apart in that very moment.

His hand slid against her breast, her nipple pebbling against the thin material of her pajama top. His thumb slid against the erected nipple, his tongue languidly pressed against her neck, it was so much and yet not enough all at once.

The noise she made was soft, yet the squeak that came after was not. He chuckled against her. “That’s the sound I want to hear.” He growled. His hand pressed against her center, pulling her against the bulge in his pants, grinding her down against him as they both moaned with an irrational need she never knew existed.

It felt like his hands were everywhere, his fingers were hard at her puckered nipple, the friction from his hands against her crotch had her soaking with desire. She couldn’t believe she was so close to the edge, so ready to fall into oblivion. “Let go, Emma.” His whisper was dripping with sex, the very definition of dangerous. She leaned back against his chest, feeling him grind his hips into her backside as his mouth brushed against her jaw, his lips dangerously close to hers.

It was overwhelming, but everything she needed before his name fell from her lips and her body released against him, her breaths coming out hot and heavy, her head swirling in thoughts she couldn’t even admit to herself. She could feel him breathing against her neck, a feeling that reminded her of the fact that she was still sitting on his lap as she came down from her high.

She stood quickly, removing herself from his embrace, she retreated to the safety of her bed, terrified of meeting his gaze. When she looked up he was watching her, his eyes still lost in a haze, not completely focused. “That was um…quite surprising and yet satisfying.”

“Aye it was…” He let his words hang in the air, not finishing his thought, simply drifting off as he stared at her.

“We should order dessert.” She announced, suddenly feeling like it was vital to eat something before the alcohol threatened to remove all her inhibitions.

He remained serious for a moment, almost lost in thought before the corner of his mouth upturned. “Dessert sounds delightful.”

~*~

Killian’s tongue darted across his lips, wetting them as they threatened to dry completely. He watched Emma sitting on the bed, enjoying each scrumptious bite of her cheesecake. Each moan of satisfaction she exclaimed from the delicate treat threatened to send him into oblivion.

He wasn’t sure how he had survived her dare, how he managed not to slip his hands into her pants and slide between the heat of her wet folds. He knew it was bad form to break an accord but the moment he had her writhing and moaning in his lap he had almost forgotten his manners.

The alcohol wasn’t helping either. With dessert came another bottle of rum and Emma seemed eager to continue their previous game of Never Have I Ever. He couldn’t tell if she truly enjoyed the information she gleaned from the game or if it were an excuse not to have to go to bed with him in the room.

“Never have I ever ridden a motorcycle.” She said excitedly as she watched him tip his glass to his mouth and drink.

“I’m fairly certain you’ve set these questions up in order to ensure I end up drunk.” He mused. “You know damn well I ride that bike to work every day, I park next to that awful yellow vessel you captain.”

She grinned, her tongue slipping out of her mouth for a moment and suddenly he felt his pants growing tighter, the woman was driving him mad with that mouth of hers. “Never have I ever died my hair pink.” He smirked.

“That’s cheating, David mentioned that in last week’s meeting.”

“If your motorcycle question wasn’t cheating, neither is this. Now drink, love.”

She tilted the glass back, downing the rest of the liquid in her drink. “Time for truth, answer me this…”

“Are we just making up the rules now?” He laughed.

She sat up on her knees, her pillow in her lap. “Have you ever thought of doing that before?”

“Doing what?” He questioned.

“That, what we did earlier.” She said as her cheeks blushed red.

“Have I ever thought of bringing you to orgasm through your clothes, love?” He responded with a look of pleasure, enjoying the squirm of discomfort it brought her. She nodded uncomfortably. “Just helping a lass out, couldn’t stand to hear you’d never experienced that before.”

“So, you got no enjoyment out of it?”

“Ah, so you want to know if I…”

“Did you, you know…” She pressed on, not making eye contact with him.

“Got off, ejaculate, jizz in my collective pants…”

“Oh my God, stop.” She wheezed anxiously. “I’m just curious, you know if you…”

“Came to completion?” He smirked. “A gentleman never tells.”

“Oh, now you’re a gentleman.” She teased.

“I’m always a gentleman, love.” He stated emphatically, his eyes not leaving hers.

“So, you didn’t?” She asked with an almost pouting frown. “I just thought you might have with the sounds you were…”

“Trust me, if I had you would have known.” He looked down at his lap with a smile.

She bit her lip, sitting up on her knees and he thought that although he managed to hold off before he might just jizz in his pants now. “I dare you to show me…”

“I’m sorry, what? I just did truth, now we’re suddenly doing dare?” It was at this moment that he realized that Emma Swan was bloody perfect and was going to be the death of him before the end of the evening.

“That’s because you wouldn’t do it anyway.” She said with a shrug of her shoulders.

“You intend me to show you what exactly?”

“You know…” She asked shyly, covering her face with her hands.

“Are you asking to see my dick, love? You seem to have trouble tonight using your words, Swan?” This evening was shaping up to be quite the surprise, but he was going to make her work for it.

“I want to see how you…you know, get off.”

“Bloody hell.” He swore, shifting immediately in his seat. “Who are you and what have you done with Emma Swan?”

She sat back on the bed and bit her lip. “You watched me get off, I’m just curious, because I kinda thought you did too but if you didn’t, then that’s really not fair is it?”

“Fair?” He scoffed. “Suddenly there’s fair in truth or dare?”

“You got to see me in that state, in order to lower the playing field, I think it’s only right.”

“Lower the playing field?”

“I mean we work together and now anytime I see you I’m going to know that you watched me…you know, and I think it might be better if at least I could say the same.”

“You kept your bloody clothes on, I’m hardly seeing how watching me…”

“I didn’t say I thought you’d actually do it.” She said sharply.

“Is that so?”

She nodded slowly and he stood defiantly, pulling his sweats down his hips, and pushing them to the floor in one sweep. His cock stood at attention against his stomach, begging to be touched.

Well, he had bloody done it now, he was either going to end up fired or lose his mind.

“Holy shit…” She whispered from the bed, leaning back against the headboard. He waited for her to scream or yell or say something even remotely angry, like threaten to take him to HR, but instead she simply wet her lips with her tongue and stared at his crotch.

Before he could stop himself, he settled back into his chair, grasping himself in hand as he gave himself a pump. His eyes closed for a moment and his head fell backwards. What the hell was he doing? He opened his eyes again, glancing toward the woman on the bed who seemed entranced with the way his hand moved. His arousal grew as he watched her squeeze her legs together, her fingers white as she gripped the sheets beside her. He could only imagine what her fingers could do to him.

He stroked himself in a fluid motion, keeping his eyes on the woman in the bed, wishing like hell he could touch her again, to have her touch him. He heard a noise from across the room, a moan he was sure she tried to stifle, and it only seemed to propel him further, increasing the speed of his hand.

“Fuck.” She whispered as he trailed the full length of his erect cock with his fist, pumping quickly as his eyes traveled her body, the thin material of her shirt barely concealing her erect nipples.

“See something you like?” He whispered breathlessly. Her eyes locked with his and the moment they did he felt his entire body tense as ropes of white streamed out across his stomach and chest, eliciting a loud groan. “Fuck, Emma…” His eyes squeezed shut as he fisted himself until his movements slowed, his hand dripping with the sticky substance as he tugged along his shaft waiting for his breathing to return to normal.

When he opened his eyes she was staring at him, blinking silently. “I’m uh, just gonna clean this up.” He stood quickly and entered the bathroom, closing the door shut behind him as he slid down the door toward the floor.

~*~

Emma stared at the closed door, hardly able to breath after what she just witnessed. Killian Jones had just jerked off in front of her. It was the most sobering and intense thing she had ever witnessed. She had been frozen to her spot in the bed, her body aching, the tension inside of her winding up again after her earlier release. She didn’t know how to describe what she had just watched. She couldn’t even believe he had gone through with her request, much less that she actually had the nerve to watch him do it.

It was the hottest thing she had ever seen. But now what?

They just go back to work and pretend they took a trip to Denver, completed their work, and returned home? How was she ever going to sit across from him at the meeting table again without seeing him sitting in that chair, his eyes glued to her body as he pumped himself to completion?

She was screwed.

The door opened and Emma jumped slightly. He walked over to the closet and pulled the extra pillow and blankets down from the shelf, arranging them on the floor across from the bed as if nothing had happened.

“What are you doing?”

“Going to bed.” He shrugged.

“On the floor? I mean, after all that tonight, I think we can manage to share a bed. We’re adults, right?”

“Emma, I wouldn’t want to impose.”

She snorted. “You just gave me the best orgasm of my life, but you don’t want to impose by sleeping next to me in this shitty ass hotel we got forced to share.”

He smirked, “Best orgasm of your life, eh?”

“Just get in the bed, Jones.” She demanded, pulling the covers down on the other side of the bed.

“As you wish.” He bowed before blowing out the candle and climbing onto the mattress. Emma laid on her back, staring up at the dark ceiling. She couldn’t turn off her brain, she had so many thoughts swirling around in there.

“Truth…” She said softly. “What were you thinking about?”

She heard his quiet chuckle before he spoke. “I was thinking about what would have happened if you had still been on my lap.”

She slapped his chest. “I’m serious.”

“So was I.” She felt him roll over onto his side, facing her. “Just imaging what it would have been like without those ridiculously intrusive sweatpants in the way.” Emma swallowed, almost choking on her own spit. “Emma.” He said in a whisper, the heat of his breath only inches from her face. “Truth or dare…”

She felt like she was holding her breath. “Dare…” She replied softly.

She felt his mouth against her neck. “I dare you to kiss me.”

She turned quickly, her lips seeking his in the dark, he met her with a fury as he buried his hand in her hair, a groan escaping his throat.

His tongue pressed against her lips, and she opened her mouth to give him access. His hand lay still on his hip, the other still tangled in her hair, she needed more.

“I Dare you…” She moaned. She felt him chuckle against her lips. “Please touch me…” It was almost a whine, full of desperation and want but it had the impact she was hoping for. He rolled her over onto her back, his mouth still attacking hers until she felt the skim of his teeth against her jaw as he worked his way to her neck.

Emma was positively humming in anticipation when his fingers skimmed her waist, slipping under her t-shirt until she felt flesh against her abdomen, sucking in a breath, she let out a moan she couldn’t suppress. She had never done anything like this before. The entire evening with Killian was out of the realm of “normal Emma Swan behavior”, and yet with Killian, she wanted this, she wanted him, she wanted to feel this insanely powerful freeing feeling that being with him gave her.

His fingers continued to travel upward until she felt them brush the underside of her breast, and she arched toward his hand, pressing herself against his palm. “So needy.” He groaned against her neck.

Needy didn’t describe her desire strongly enough, she wrapped a leg around the back of his thigh, pulling his body against hers as she grinded her hips into his. “Want more.” She said breathily.

“Patience, Swan. I’ll give you what you need.” He promised, his eyes suddenly meeting hers when his fingers finally found her nipple, kneading it against his thumb. The wanton moan escaping her throat loudly.

“Yes…” She sighed. “More.”

He smirked, tugging her shirt up her body and dipping his head to press his lips against her flesh, sucking her pert nipple into his mouth. She mewed softly, her fingertips lightly scraping his scalp as she tugged the dark strands of hair in her hand, pulling him against her body.

His other hand trailed down her body, her flesh on fire everywhere he touched, and the only thing that could stop the burn was more Killian. She felt his fingers playfully dipping under her waistband, the anticipation of his touch growing more desperate.

His fingers dipped between her folds, almost teasing as he slipped inside of her only to immediately withdraw. She groaned in frustration and felt his smirk, the hairs on his jaw scratching against her breast, his fingers plunging inside of her again. Her head was spinning as she arched off the bed. “God yes.”

“I want to hear you sing, my beautiful Swan.” She had no chance to react the moment she felt his breath against her core. Her fingers tightened in his hair, needing to feel him closer. She could feel the spring winding inside of her again, similar to earlier in the evening when he touched her through her sweats, only now it was divine, now he was driving inside of her, his wet tongue licking a stripe against her, her legs tensing as he continued to drive into her.

She could feel herself getting closer, his fingers weren’t enough, she needed more.

“I need to feel you inside me.” She moaned.

He paused his movement, glancing up to meet her eyes before he slid up her body. “Never have I ever wanted a woman so badly in my life.” The kiss was desperate and full of intention and Emma matched the intensity as his tongue invaded her mouth. She dug her feet against the back of his knees, grinding her body against his erection, her hands desperately tugging at the waistbands of his sweatpants.

“Then take these damn things off…” She whined, anxiously tugging at her own to pull them from her body. She hadn’t felt this desperate in years, an urgent need welling as the fire burned inside of her. The clothes flew around the room before they came together again, she could feel his erection at her side, hard and waiting. His mouth was hot on hers as he slid between her legs, and she felt the welcome intrusion press against her center.

“Wait, wait, wait…” She scrambled, pulling away from him. “When were you last with someone?”

He pressed his mouth to her cheek, “It’s been a while love, if you’re nervous about…”

“I haven’t been with someone for months, I mean I’m protected, I take the pill, I just…”

“I’m not usually impulsive, though the situation we are currently in may seem to say otherwise.” She pulled him against her, pressing her mouth to his. “Emma…”

“Dare…”

She felt his smirk against her mouth. “No more need for dare’s, love. Your heart’s desire, Swan. I promise, that’s all I want you to have.” His lips ghosted against hers.

“I need…” She whined, her voice sounding foreign to her, begging for something she couldn’t put into words.

“I’ve got you.” He pressed against her entrance, and she felt him slide between her folds, the tip of his cock sliding inside of her before pulling away. She moaned in frustration before he slid in again, filling her, stretching her, and then leaving her empty once more. He was driving her to oblivion with each tentative thrust.

She nipped at his lip with her teeth, sucking his bottom lip into her mouth, eliciting a groan from his mouth. His thrusts increased, his kiss becoming almost animalistic as his thrusts became harder, driving into her with each plunge. She could feel her walls tighten around him as she met him thrust for thrust as she arched against him, needing the friction the closeness gave to her.

She could feel it building inside of her again, teetering closer as Killian took her to the place she needed to be. “Let go…” His breath was hot against her ear as he drove into her, sending her over the edge as the string inside of her snapped.

“Killian…oh God…yes…” She screamed into the darkness as she heard her name against her ear over and over again in a beautiful whisper.

He rested his forehead against hers, as his breathing came out in shallow breathes. “That was….”

“An interesting development.” She laughed.

“Is interesting good or bad?” He asked as he rolled over onto his side.

“Honestly…”

“We’ve been playing truth’s all night, why would I want you to lie now?”

“I always found you to be kind of annoying.” She said shortly.

“Bloody hell, that’s not exactly…”

“But…” She teased, cutting him off. “Maybe I was just unable to see past your rugged good looks and boyish charm.”

“Swan, it’s bad form to attack a man simply because he’s devastatingly handsome, one might even say dashing, but I would hope that I have proven tonight that I’m no boy.” His lips grazed the corner of her mouth. She couldn’t stop the smile from growing on her face.

“I don’t know, I might need to see some more evidence.” As he pulled her onto his chest, she was sure that neither of them would be getting any sleep tonight.

~*~

Killian showered quickly when he heard the knock on the door. Breakfast was being served to all hotel guests, the power had returned shortly before they woke that morning. He wrapped the towel around his waist and entered the room. Emma smiled from the table, dressed only in one of his t-shirts. “Morning.” She grinned as he sat down across from her.

She pushed his plate toward him and then took a bite of her toast. “Someone’s chipper this morning.” He teased.

“It was all the orgasms.” She whispered seductively with a wink. Grabbing the bottle of rum, he watched as she poured a shot into his glass and slid it toward him. “Never have I ever had sex with the boss’s daughter.” He had no idea what she was talking about but stared at the glass. “Better drink up, you might need the courage to explain yourself when we get home.” She chuckled.

“I’ve never done that, love, I already told you, she was the boss’s wife.”

The phone rang and Killian caught a glimpse of David’s name on the screen before she answered. “Hello, Daddy…”

Shit.

[thegreaterlink]

Reviewing Star Trek TNG - S3E17 "Sins of the Father"

THE PREMISE

As part of the Federation-Klingon officer exchange program, Klingon Commander Kurn (Tony Todd) has requested to be transferred to the Enterprise as its first officer. His more aggressive Klingon command style aggravates the crew, particularly Lieutenant Worf, who finds him patronising. Worf confronts Kurn alone, and the latter reveals that he's actually Worf's younger brother.

MY REVIEW

Why exactly Kurn feels the need to hide his identity from the Enterprise crew is… unclear. It feels like someone realised partway into the writing process that they needed to make the plot more interesting, so they threw in a familial connection to spice things up.

Kurn explained that as a baby he had been left with a family friend when their family went to Khitomer, so he avoided the massacre that wiped out the rest of their family. Kurn was adopted by the family friend, who told him the truth when Kurn reached the Age of Ascension. Worf was sent to live with foster parents because Starfleet (and the writers) had no idea Kurn was alive. He's only just now meeting with Worf because their late father, Mogh (pronounced "mogue"), has been accused of treason by supposedly helping the Romulans with their attack.

Suddenly the plot takes a hard left turn into Worf trying to clear his father’s name and reclaim his precious honour. It wasn't surprising to learn that Worf's brother coming aboard the Enterprise and his father being accused of treason were two separate ideas combined into one script. It’s… fine. Klingon storylines often feel kind of one-note anyway, so it’s nice to have some variety.

Picard agrees to back Worf up as he makes the challenge, and he orders the Enterprise to set course for the excellently designed Klingon homeworld Qo'noS (pronounced "koh-nos").

On the way there, Worf agrees to let Kurn be his Cha'Dlch, or ritual second, or lieutenant when there's reckoning to be reckoned. However, Worf reminds him that he can't reveal his true bloodline.

They arrive at Qo'noS, Worf beams down with Kurn, Picard and Riker in tow, and challenges the accusations made by Duras, the son of Mogh's greatest rival.

There's a lot of the usual Klingon guff around honour and such like, but the crux of the matter is that Worf is branded a traitor for bringing the challenge against Duras. After the council calls a recess, Duras tries to blackmail Kurn into betraying Worf to avoid his true bloodline being revealed, but Kurn refuses and gets stabbed.

Dr Crusher assures him that the injuries aren't fatal, and Picard takes Kurn's place as Worf's second.

Look, the plot gets kind of long-winded and isn't terribly interesting, so I'll give you the gist.

They compare evidence from two ships - the USS Intrepid, which was the first responder to the massacre, and the Romulan ship through which the Klingons found out about Mogh's supposed treachery - and realise that Duras' evidence was faked.

They track down a survivor of the massacre, she agrees to go with him, it turns out the whole thing is a cover-up to save Duras from disgrace, since it was his father who helped the Romulans attack Khitomer. Only problem is that Duras' family is too powerful to accuse without causing a civil war, so they used Mogh as a scapegoat because they didn't think Worf would challenge it. But now things have escalated, and both sons of Mogh must die.

Can you tell I'm getting bored yet?

Long story short, Worf volunteers to die to save his family's honour, Duras says no (cuz honour would dictate that Kurn get revenge to compensate) so he settles for a discommendation and a loss of honour to let Kurn live. They go through with the ritual and they go back to the Enterprise. Yay.

My research (by which I mean checking this episode's Wikipedia and Memory Alpha pages) shows that this is regarded by some as one of the best TNG episodes, but... no? I wouldn't call it bad, but it's far from exceptional.

6/10 - Perfectly serviceable.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

I’m Always Curious Part Twenty Eight

Previous Part | Next Part |  Masterlist Notes: I hope everyone’s having a good week 💕

Sooo….. How are we doing…………….

Warnings: ....Less angst than last week? I think? I mean by my gauge anyway y’all might disagree

Also cursing and mentions of canon-typical violence Summary: “I don’t want to sound insensitive or glib, Kat, but this better be fucking good.” 

Can we talk? I had taken my time in answering Una’s message.

Maybe it was a little petty of me, but it was the first time she’d reached out to me in months, and I was tired. Despite the fact that the armistice between the Federation and the Klingons was in effect ahead of the Peace Accord in Paris, my work had yet to be completed. I’d been selected and summoned back to the Academy by Starfleet High Command to work closely with a number of other Comms specialists and the Klingons to draw up a treaty that would be beneficial to both sides, and would help to ensure that the armistice held. Are you going to hang up again? Was my answer, finally. Her response stunned me - but then, Una typically found a way to catch me off-guard. It would be difficult for me to hang up on you in person. 

-- I had this inexplicable urge to hug her, if only to ensure that we were both there, both real and solid, but I knew that Una was not a hugger. Instead I nodded to her as she slid into the booth seat across from mine. I’d taken up brief residence in one of the vacated mess hall spaces in the Academy while I’d waited for her. “How much time have you got?” She asked. “About an hour. It’s technically lunch break.” “We can get something to eat.” “I’m not hungry.” “...How are you?” She asked after a moment. “I’m not sure you deserve that answer.” I didn’t mean to snap, but— seeing Una in person, seemingly unchanged after what I had gone through - after Somonia, after the war, and after she had been so harsh to me, I was not in a mood to be warm and cuddly. Una nodded a little, unflinching. “I do deserve that,” She conceded, “I was...Processing. I should not have said that to you, it was a blatant disregard for your feelings. I’m sorry.” “...Well,” I bristled a little, “Thank you for that.” I glanced out of the window for a moment, gathering myself before asking, “So, why are you on Earth?” “There was a hitch in installing the new Holographic Communications System, it had to be brought in to space dock.” “Crew’s in one piece?” “Yes.” “Are you the only one down here?” “...Yes.” I lowered my gaze to my hands again. “Why did you want to meet with me?” I asked. Una stood and walked around to my side of the booth, sliding in to sit beside me. I didn’t turn to look at her, and she didn’t push for me to. “When...Spock told me that you were alive,” She said softly, “When he brought the timeline to me, the evidence… There was some little part of me that almost hoped he’d made it all up-- Not because I wanted you to be gone,” She hurried to explain, “But because I… Could not fathom the fact that we had left you behind. And seeing your medical file, reading the briefing that you gave Command-- the hell that you went through. If we’d turned back when Cornwell contacted us--” “You couldn’t have known--” “That shouldn’t have stopped us,” Una insisted, “We should’ve gone back, should’ve...Made sure.” I glanced over at Una to find her staring ahead of us, shoulders and jaw tight. “It was hard, watching the crew learn that you were gone. You were missed, you were needed, but seeing the news spread that you were alive, that you’d been drafted into service for the war so soon after you were found— And that we were constantly being told to stay out of the war on top of it … I was angry. I focused that anger in the wrong place when we spoke,” She admitted, turning to meet my eye, “I have regretted that every single day.” I felt tears prickling at my eyes and I lowered my eyes to the gold fabric of her uniform, clenching my jaw. “I’m not apologizing for not telling you,” I shook my head, "I’m sure Cornwell was monitoring my communications, and I don’t know what the repercussions would’ve been-- for either party.” “Considering the Admiral’s tendency to run a tight ship, as it were, I understand. I think you did the right thing...Commander,” Una tipped her head forward as she addressed me by my new rank. I rolled my eyes a little, a small smile creeping onto my face. It had been a battlefield promotion for the sake of my ability to command a small vessel during the Battle of Xisad, one of the last battles fought during the war. Cornwell had promoted me herself. “You know I had to take the Bridge Officer’s test when I got back?” I told Una, slouching down in my seat a little bit, “Just to make it official. They told me that if I didn’t, my rank would revert. I almost let it go.” “Why didn’t you?” “Durling.” “Eli Durling?” I nodded, humming, “Bastard goaded me, said I wouldn’t pass first try, so it wasn’t worth bothering.”

Una smiled. “Stubborn as stone,” She shook her head. “Don’t start,” I began to laugh, and it soon overtook the two of us. As it settled, I gathered my courage to ask the question that had been sitting on the tip of my tongue since Una had told me she was the only one on Earth. “Where is he?” “He’s on Starbase five at the moment. Visiting someone.” “Is he alright?” “Yes.” “And he...He knows?” Una frowned, nodding a little. “Of course he knows,” She confirmed, “You haven’t spoken to him?” “No. He hasn’t reached out and I...I didn’t, I wasn’t sure,” I admitted. I suddenly felt jittery-- sharp, and sensitive. It was like I’d taken a gulp of the worst kind of Koutovian tea. “So--” I cleared my throat, “When do you leave?” “In a few hours, most likely. Starfleet’s set us another mission. Do you know where you’ll be stationed next?” “No. I don’t know how long we’ll be working on the treaty and Command doesn’t want to set me to another post prematurely.” “I understand.” I could see the disappointment in Una’s eyes, but rather than say anything, she just tipped her chin up a little bit. “Do you think you’ll leave Communications for Helm now?” She prodded, and I snorted. We both knew the answer to that. 

-- Tilly and I nearly knocked one another over with the force of our embrace. I squeezed her as tight as I could, grinning from ear to ear, wholly uncaring that the transporter room crew and the Cornwell were nearby. “I have to check on where you’re staying, but um-- I’ll come and find you and show you and-- excuse me, Admiral,” Tilly ducked around Cornwell before hurting out of the transporter bay.

The Admiral arched a brow at the sight of me before gesturing for me to follow her. I fell into step beside her, glancing around. The Discovery hadn’t changed since my last stint on it, of course, but it was surreal to be back on the ship that I thought had been destroyed. But as nice as it was to be on a starship with no threat of war, I was not in the best mood. Treaty completed, peace talks aside, Peace Accord signed, I had been afforded leave. Shortly after that leave had been granted, I'd received a message from Admiral Cornwell. 

“I don’t want to sound insensitive or glib, Kat, but this better be fucking good.” “You’re not in uniform.” “No. I’m not, because technically, officially, I am not here,” I reminded Cornwell as I cast her a sidelong glance, “Were those not your exact words?” “They were.” “Well, then if I am still technically, officially on leave,” I gestured to my civvies, “Then why would I be in uniform?” “You’re in a fine mood.” “Do I need to remind you what happened the last time you pulled me off of leave for an assignment?” I retorted. “The Discovery has been tasked with chasing down signals that have appeared in varying points throughout the galaxy.” I frowned. “I thought that the Enterprise had been tasked with that directive.” “It had, but it experienced catastrophic system-wide failures. The Discovery took over the mission.” “And I’m here because…?” “There is a colony on the way to the next point that’s in need of monitoring. Starfleet is not interfering, but we’re keeping an eye on them. We need you--” “A Tag and Run?” I asked, stunned, “You’ve really pulled me off of leave for a Tag and Run? Why not pull Durling?” “I have. He’ll be here in a few hours to oversee the op. I’ve business to attend to elsewhere.” “Of course you do.” “Commander, I may’ve tolerated a certain amount of this disposition in the midst of the war, but please trust that I have no such patience for it right now.” I fought the urge to snap back and roll my eyes. “I thought that Tag and Runs were only sanctioned outside of the war in the most extreme cases.” “Trust when I tell you that this is extreme, and sanctioned by Starfleet.” Cornwell stopped at the turbolift, turning to face me. “There’s something else that I ought to make you aware of.” “Oh, there’s more?” “I need you to keep your head.” I looked over her face, at the slight grimace on her lips, and that sharp, jittery feeling bubbled back up in my stomach. “...Kat, what--” “Admiral, a question.” I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t help but turn at the sound of his voice-- my body was moving before I even fully registered it, half turned from Cornwell, half turned toward Pike. It almost didn’t register, at first, that it really was him. I hadn’t seen him anywhere but my mind’s eye, my dreams, for the longest time. He looked… Well. Almost just as I remembered. There were maybe a few more streaks of grey around his temples, but I didn’t get a good enough look. My brain finally caught up with my body, took in his bewildered expression - the narrowed eyes, his parted lips, the scrunch of his brow - and I turned my head away, eyes set on the turbolift panel. “...You couldn’t have mentioned this before I beamed aboard?” I asked Cornwell quietly. “I wasn’t sure if another ship would be in range. False hope would’ve been cruel,” Cornwell's voice was no louder than mine, her eyes set on the Captain.  I turned my head a little as the turbolift doors opened and Tilly stepped out. “Oh! Wow, just who I was looking for--” She glanced between the three of us, taking in the tense silence, “I...Am sorry to interrupt, but, um, your lodgings are ready, Commander.” “Thank you,” I mumbled. “Commander?” Pike’s repetition was hushed, almost awed. I turned my head toward him a little, unable to meet his eye. He’d missed so much-- and what the hell had I missed? “If you’ll excuse me,” I answered tightly, stepping onto the turbolift with Tilly. “See if you can find a uniform,” Cornwell watched me, “And try to give Durling less lip.” “No guarantees,” I retorted before the doors slid shut. -- 

“That seemed… Tense. Like cage-fight-with-a-Mugato-tense,” Tilly commented over the hum of the turbolift. She was right - it felt it, too. I couldn’t get that look Pike had given me out of my mind. It was buzzing through me; it was a stone in my stomach; it was behind my eyelids when I blinked. “Speaking from experience?” I tried to tease as we stepped off. “Ah-ha,” Tilly shook her head, “No.” I gave her a small shrug, following her down the hall, “Pike used to be Captain of the Enterprise.” “Right.” “And I haven’t seen him since…” “Since he thought you were dead,” It dawned on Tilly, “Oh… Oh that’s worse than a Mugato.” “It’s like two Mugatos.” “Well, here we go,” She stepped aside to let me in, “You’re gonna have a roomie, but it won’t be me.” “Who’s it going to be?” I asked as I stepped inside. “Well, it’ll be me, and if you don’t like that, you can sleep in the frickin’ cargo hold.” I froze again at the sound of that dry, almost raspy voice. “Jett?” I asked, stunned. “Is that a yes or a no to the cargo hold?” She added, standing from her bed, “I mean you don’t actually have a choice, but it only seems polite to ask.” I flexed my hands before I asked, “Can I-- Are you-- Can I hug you?” “Once,” Jett conceded, “But make it a quick one.” I didn’t approach her too fast, didn’t hug her too tightly, just patted her shoulder twice and took a step back. “What, um…” I asked lightly, throat growing tight, “What happened?” “It’s a long story-- And you haven’t even heard it yet,” Jett frowned, watching me step back to what would be my temporary bed and lower myself down onto it, putting my head in my hands. “Hey,” Tilly sat down beside me, resting a hand on my shoulder and rubbing it, “What is it?” I couldn’t answer. I just shook my head a little as I took deep breaths, trying to slow my pounding heart, trying to steady my breathing. “Are you mouthing ‘pie’? I should get her a snack?” I heard Jett ask Tilly-- which made me laugh through the few tears that were leaking from my eyes. “Pike,” I mumbled, “She’s mouthing Pike.” I could understand why the two were trying to be careful with me. I surely seemed panicked by what should’ve been amazing news. And it was amazing. I was overjoyed, relieved that Jett was alright, but-- between the mission, Tilly, Pike, and Jett, I was overwhelmed. And Pike had looked right at me -- Right at me. He’d seemed so startled, like I was a figure that had stepped out of a dream-- or a nightmare: unknowable, unplaceable, but strangely familiar and to be dissected. Maybe that was one small consolation. While Cornwell hadn’t warned me, she'd been remiss in warning him, too.

I tipped my chin up from my hands, looking between Jett and Tilly and giving them a weak, watery smile. “I won’t lie, though, pie sounds amazing right now.” "Sure! We can do that,” Tilly said quickly, more than happy to put a baked band-aid over this hurt, “Jett, you coming?” Reno shrugged, “I could eat.”

Tag list: @angels-pie​ ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta​  ; @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo​ ; @how-am-i-serpose-to-know​ ; @onlyhereforthefandomandgiggles​ ; @inmyowncorner​  ; @tardis-23​ ; @2manyfandoms-solittletime​ ; @paintballkid711​ ; @katrynec​​ ; @hypnobananaangelfish​​ ; @elen-aranel​ ; @blueeyesatnight​

[essenceoffilm]

Film Details #1: The Stairs in The Red Shoes

Film Details is a blog series of posts focusing on a specific detail in a film. Details may vary from a single shot, a particular cut, or a piece of sound to individual scenes, objects, and other elements in mise-en-scène as well as larger-scale motifs in the film under scrutiny.

One of the most memorable shots of The Red Shoes (1948), a mesmerizing classic of fable and ballet cinema, is actually a subtle combination of two identical shots by means of an almost unnoticeable jump cut. It is the image of Moira Shearer’s legs as she is rapidly running down a narrow spiral staircase. The shots are in a fairly small scale and framed in a manner that crops the rest of the character’s body so that attention is distinctly placed on the radiant red shoes on Shearer’s feet. Yet the background, or not just a simple backdrop of course but a space in which this event occurs, is also important: the staircase. Director Michael Powell has explained how he achieved the trick together with his crew. In order to capture the quickly moving legs of the actress, they had to first commission a separate spiral staircase to be moved and filmed, then make a rotating mount underneath the staircase so that they were able to move the spiral staircase in synchronization with the downward movement of the camera on the crane without losing the actress behind the edges of the staircase [1]. The impression is impeccable and alluring. There is an enigmatic sense of movement that feels impossible in a way that strangely resembles the viewing experience of a similarly enchanting, though very different, trick shot of a staircase in Hitchcock’s Vertigo (1958). What should draw specific attention to the staircase at this crucial moment in The Red Shoes, however, is that this is not the first instance of the in-between space of transition in the film. There are plenty of steps along the way.

Before compiling, analyzing, and interpreting the many stairs of The Red Shoes, it is important to provide a short reminder of the film’s basic story line. It is crucial to bear this in mind because it is the story and the characters’ core relationships that introduce the film’s key theme that is articulated and structured by the staircase motif.

The Red Shoes is a film about the conflicts of life and art. It tells the story of a young aspiring dancer Vicky Page, played by Shearer, who is hired by Boris Lermontov, played by Anton Walbrook, to his renowned ballet company. During the time that Vicky is hired, Lermontov also employs an up-and-coming composer named Julian Craster, played by Marius Goring. Together they achieve great success, both creatively and financially, when Lermontov produces a ballet based on Hans Christian Andersen’s fairy-tale The Red Shoes, starring Vicky and with music composed by Julian. To much of Lermontov’s disappointment, however, since he sees other matters besides art as destructive to the creative enterprise, Julian and Vicky end up falling in love. Lermontov fires both of them in hopes that Vicky would leave romantic love behind and come back to the lure of the red shoes and ballet, as she eventually does. Yet, Vicky remains torn between the two men, who represent her conflicting desires for love and art, and in the end dies by falling under a train. She is, just like the protagonist in Andersen’s fairy-tale, unable to take off her red shoes; she is incapable of shaking off her pernicious passion for art. The story is rather simple, but it is elevated by a cleverly treated intertext of the Andersen story. The theme is as old as mankind, but Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger craft a unique cinematic discourse to articulate the theme and give it new meaning. Even more so, the film is rife with details that have this very effect. The staircase motif is one of them.

There is a plethora of stairs in the film. There are the stairs on the balcony to which Vicky runs and from which she falls to her death after leaving the rapid plunge to the spiral staircase behind. These steps on the balcony (and not the spiral staircase) are in fact the real last stairs of the film. More towards the beginning of the film, there are also the almost off-screen stairs leading to the party held by Vicky’s aunt in hopes of attracting Lermontov’s interest in her niece who is an aspiring dancer. There are the behind-the-scenes stairs leading to the stage at Covent Garden where Julian goes to after Lermontov has hired him for Ballet Lermontov. There are the further steps Julian climbs with Irina Boronskaja, the leading dancer of Ballet Lermontov who eventually leaves the company due to her marriage (exemplifying what Lermontov fears for Vicky). There are the stairs behind the stage which the dancers, including Vicky, walk down after the first class is dismissed. More towards the end, there is an underground staircase which leads to a platform at a railway station which Lermontov climbs to reach his train only to discover Vicky trying to convince him that there is room for more in her life than just dancing. 

All these scenes concern, more or less explicitly, a movement between the outside world of real life and the dream world of art. I shall flesh out this interpretation in more detail below. It is perhaps more direct in scenes where characters move through stairs to the stage or away from the stage and it is perhaps less explicit in scenes such as Lermontov’s arrival to Vicky’s aunt’s party or his arrival to the train platform. But it is there, nonetheless: Lermontov’s confident walk on the stairs precedes Vicky’s attempt to reconcile the conflict; she tries to make Lermontov agree to let her dance as well as live her love life. 

However, one scene not mentioned above is especially characteristic of this thematic function of the staircase motif. During the first day that Vicky and Julian are working for Ballet Lermontov, Lermontov climbs the small stairs of the theater from the auditorium to the stage. This moment, though seemingly minute especially when considered in the context of the staircase motif, is revealing in terms of the thematic function of the stairs in the film. In the long take, Lermontov first passes Julian trying to reach him in the auditorium and then Vicky trying to contact him on the stage. Lermontov moves from the shadows, that is, the real world, to the limelight of the stage, the dream world of art. It is this movement between these two worlds that is reflected by the many stairs of The Red Shoes.

All the stairs mentioned above are quite minor. That is to say, one does not really pay attention to them unless one is specifically looking for them. Even the thematic function just outlined might seem a little vague at first. But it becomes more salient, I believe, when one looks at these instances in the broader context of the staircase motif with its most important manifestation. To be more specific, there are three scenes in The Red Shoes in which stairs gain increased significance: there are the entrance stairs of Covent Garden in the beginning, the stairs of a castle-like building in the middle, and the stairs in the end (the spiral staircase and the stairs on the balcony). Since I have already described the final scene with the spiral staircase and the stairs on the balcony, I will start by describing the beginning and middle scenes both of which have not been mentioned above. 

The stairs in the beginning are actually the first thing that are seen in the film. The film begins with a low-angle shot of a staircase leading up. Off-screen noise of a crowd from the outside is heard on the soundtrack. A porter enters the screen space at the top of the stairs and walks down a few steps. A cut reveals two guards holding the door shut below the staircase. The porter tells them to open the doors and let the awaiting crowd in. The crowd is a group of excited students about to lose it over ballet. It is opening night for Ballet Lermontov at Covent Garden. The camera follows the intense running of the students through the stairs until it settles on a corner to capture their enthusiastic movement -- which even ends up tearing a Ballet Lermontov poster for the show on the wall. The real world that is left behind is tactile, palpable, whereas the world of art is anything but. The audience is there to sit still; they are there to see and to hear, as they very clearly emphasize in dialogue with each other. It is this opening scene that establishes the theme of movement between the two worlds through the staircase motif.

Between the scene with the stairs in the beginning and the scene with the stairs in the end (both the spiral staircase and the stairs on the balcony), there is appropriately another chief scene involving stairs in the middle of the film. It is the scene where Vicky, all dressed up in a beautiful blue dress with an adorable tiara, accentuating her red hair in glorious Technicolor, is summoned by Lermontov to attend his company in an eerie castle-like building straight from the pages of a fairy-tale. Arriving to the scene, she climbs a stairway only to find a massive set of steps covered in grass. At the top, there are more stairs to be climbed. And what awaits her after all these steps? Lermontov telling her that she will be cast in the lead role for his new ballet based on Hans Christian Andersen’s fairy-tale The Red Shoes. The length of passage from the ground to the higher top where Lermontov awaits seems to reflect the hardship that entrance to the life of art takes. At the same time, however, the duration of the journey to the top expresses the detachment of the world of art from the real world below. Furthermore, the long stairway covered in grass has a mystery to it, enhancing the transition to the dream world of art. It is as if the film took a momentary pause to emphasize not only the narrative importance of this turning point but also the enchantment of art, which is both alluring and horrific.

As said, the stairs in these three scenes are more noticeable. They articulate, perhaps more explicitly, the theme of movement between the real world and the dream world of art. In the opening scene, excited students rush the stairs, leaving the tactile real world behind, to get closer to the dream. Julian Craster, the composer who Lermontov eventually hires for his company and with whom Vicky ends up falling in love, sits on the balcony, listening to the music. Vicky, however, is closer to the stage; she is already enamored, perhaps too enamored, with the dream world of art. She is the one to tell Lermontov that the way others justify continuing to live is how she justifies dancing. To her, the raison d’être for human existence is equivalent with the raison d’être for dancing. And, of course, she is the one who ends up dying for it. In the scene mentioned just above, the scene where Vicky walks up the high stairs of the castle-like building to hear Lermontov’s life-changing announcement, there is a similar sense of inter-world movement. Vicky is dressed as a princess, not for this occasion that has come as a surprise to her; she climbs the stairs covered in grass to a castle; she learns that she will be starring in a ballet based on a fable. The fairy-tale connotation could not be more unambiguous. The real world is left behind as the character is elevated (also concretely via the long stairs) to a spiritual plane of art. The fairy-tale aesthetics are used to further highlight the detachment of the world of art from the real world, a detachment that is, as said, both seductive and frightening.

In both of these scenes, characters move closer to the realm of art. In contrast to them, the famous image of Vicky rapidly running down the spiral staircase conveys an opposite kind of movement. This is not just to point to the simple fact that people are running or walking up in the first beginning and middle scenes, whereas Vicky is running down in the last scene, but to make a metaphorical observation about these kinds of movement. In a word, Vicky’s rapid run is her fleeing the dream (her dream) rather than getting closer to it. Following the scene where she is practically torn apart by Lermontov and Julian, the former embodying the dream world of art and the latter the real world with romantic relationships, Vicky is struck by a feeling of horror as she wobbles toward the stage escorted by her dresser. She -- perhaps controlled by the red shoes like the girl in the Andersen story -- starts to withdraw. She rushes away and storms to the spiral staircase. The image of her legs racing the stairs represents her fear, her uncontrollable need, and her conflicted desire to get farther away from the dream world of art that means everything to her, but also, in the same breath, her conflicted desire not to leave the art world that has started to consume her. The ambiguity of what is in fact happening in this finale (is it Vicky’s own free will or the spell of the red shoes? Is Vicky running away back to her love or is she running to her death?) emphasizes the unresolved conflict of art and life that torments the protagonist.

What is striking about the spiral staircase in contrast to the other stairs in the film is its surreal dimension. When one sees stairs in the film, one is quite sure of their location and spatial relation to the other spaces. This is not surprising at all because stairs are precisely a connection link between two or more spaces, typically between floors. There can be clear visual cues such as an arrow sign and the word “stage” on the wall reminding us where the stairs are leading or cuts from previous scenes to subsequent scenes that provide spatial context for the stairs. Such is the case, for example, with the scene where Vicky is training with the other dancers of the company. The scene ends with the choreographer shouting “class dismissed!” A cut shifts us to the behind-the-stage stairs which Vicky climbs down (see the image above). One can see the word “stage” on the wall in the background. The camera follows Vicky as she moves farther away from the stage until the camera stops at the music rehearsal room where the next cut shifts us. For another example, take the scene with the castle-like building. A cab driver picks Vicky up from the hotel. A long drive takes her to an unknown destination, but shots of the beautiful natural environment give the spectator a spatially coherent sense of the journey. After the drive, Vicky is then seen at the beginning of the first stairway which she starts climbing; next, a cut to movement shifts us to her arriving to the top of these stairs where she opens a gate, in a mobile following shot, to the huge flight of stairs covered in grass. Finally, a dissolve shows her arriving to the top of yet another staircase, which eventually leads her to Lermontov. In both scenes, the spatial relations are very clear. No such cues are available for the image of the spiral staircase. 

After the shot of Vicky running away in fear, there is a cut to the conductor of the orchestra starting The Red Shoes ballet. The next cuts shifts us to the spiral staircase whose exact location in the building remains a mystery. The following cut does not help provide context for the spatial relations either: the camera remains on Vicky’s legs in the red shoes, with the rest of her body cropped off, walking an unknown hallway and climbing down a few steps until she arrives to the stairs on the balcony which lead to the more familiar space of the balcony over the railway tracks. In addition to the shots preceding and following the two combined shots of the spiral staircase, the shots of the spiral staircase themselves further enhance the spatial ambiguity. Given the velocity of Vicky’s flee and the duration of the two shots, one would assume that the spiral staircase covered quite a long journey. It is hard to see where exactly in the building such a large spiral staircase would be located. It is possible, of course, but it is not clear by any means. It is a surprise to the spectator, and that surprise is precisely the point.

More important than the shots surrounding the image of the run in the spiral staircase is, of course, the overall uncanny impression of the image of the spiral staircase itself. By combining the fast movement of the actress with the synchronized movement of the camera as well as the unnoticeable movement of the spiral staircase, the image gains a totally unique sensation that is quite difficult to be put into words. The fact that the actual staircase in the physical space (of the studio setting) has been moved with the help of a rotating mount while filming enables the camera to capture the actress’ movement in a different way than it would had the staircase remained still. However, since the staircase does not move in the diegetic space (i.e., the space of the fictional world where the characters act), the visual impression is perplexing to say the least. This only highlights the surprise factor of the cut to the spiral staircase. The surrealism of the image emphasizes that the protagonist’s flee is not really physical or concrete but metaphorical. In the poetic space of the film, the character is detaching from the dream world of art that means everything to her -- from the world whose detachment from reality had been established at the latest with the fable-like stairs covered in grass. The unresolved conflict can only end in death. 

In addition to the thematic trajectory outlined by these three scenes (first steps toward the world of art at Covent Garden in the beginning, then entrance to that world via the stairs covered in grass in the middle, and finally an escape from its consumption of the soul in the spiral staircase in the end), it is worth noting that the famous seventeen minute ballet sequence of the film also features stairs. That is, stairs are involved significantly in the production design of not only Powell and Pressburger’s The Red Shoes but also in The Red Shoes by Ballet Lermontov. There is a staircase in the background of the main milieu of the ballet, which is first being walked up and down by two women. In the end, the girl with the red shoes, played by Vicky, collapses on the stairs after being exhausted by the red shoes. Having been released from the curse of the red shoes by death, Vicky’s body is finally being carried by a man toward the stairs.

Although these uses of the staircase motif take place in a story within the story (the Andersen story as a ballet performed by characters in the film), it is quite interesting that stairs appear in the beginning and the end of the ballet, just as in the film itself. Stairs in the ballet also connote transition and, specifically, death. It is as if the stairs, which in the first instance are associated with entrance and movement, eventually turned into a gateway between two worlds. Vicky is first brought to the world of art (the first instance of the stairs in the ballet), then dies for it, and is finally being taken away from it back to reality (the last instance of the stairs in the ballet). This affinity between the ballet and the film should not come as a surprise, of course. For the ballet, to a very large extent, reflects many of the events in the film, including Vicky’s budding conflict between Julian and Lermontov.

The staircase is an in-between space between spaces. Movement in the staircase thus usually connotes transition. Here, I have claimed that the stairs in The Red Shoes operate as a metaphor for the characters’ (mainly Vicky’s) movement between the real world of life and the dream world of art. The movement is oftentimes casual, but even then it exemplifies this thematic function. In scenes where the movement is less casual and the staircase is more salient, that is, the three scenes in the beginning, middle, and end discussed above, the articulation and structuring of this theme is more conspicuous. Vicky is first pulled toward the dream world of art by its mysterious lure in the first and second of these scenes, which establish the detachment of the dream world of art from reality, but in the end she is almost pushed away from the dream world by its even horrific enchantment with which she once identified so strongly. In the astonishing shots of the spiral staircase, the link between the worlds has broken down, which is reflected by the eerie movement in the shots and the ambiguity of the relations to other spaces. The image is a shock. The extraordinary effect of the image of the run through the spiral staircase, a spatial link both displaced and uncanny, expresses this ambiguous and unresolved conflict of art and life in the life of an artist.

Notes:

[1] Michael Powell tells this anecdote to Peter von Bagh at the Midnight Sun Film Festival in 1987: “At the end of the film, when the girl runs to her death in the red shoes, she gets out from her dressing room. I thought that it would be terribly boring if she just ran the stairs down in an ordinary way so I had a spiral staircase of roughly six meters made for the scene, the likes of which are used in industrial facilities. I asked Moira if she could run down the stairs in her ballet shoes. She told me she could. The camera had to shoot the running from a descending crane. I asked Moira to run as fast as she could because I wanted the shot to be as short as possible. I gave Moira the signal to go, and she ran the stairs down faster than the camera was able to follow. She beat the camera by roughly 20 film frames. The cinematographers were ashamed. She had to run again, and this time the camera kept up with her, but when Moira ran the spiral staircase, she was of course momentarily concealed by the staircase for every lap. Since the camera was unable to turn around the staircase in the same speed, we had to have a rotating mount made for the staircase whose speed could be controlled so that Moira was constantly kept in front of the camera. We told Moira that now she could run as fast as she wanted. She ran and won the camera again by two seconds. Later, once we had the shot, my editor Reggie Mills asked me if we could lengthen the stairs. I answered no, unless we would get a new staircase. But the shot was too short as it was so we decided to develop it twice and then cut the pieces together so that it would look like one shot.” (Peter von Bagh, Sodankylä ikuisesti [Sodankylä Forever], WSOY, 2010, p. 55; my translation from the Finnish text.)

[starryeyes2000]

Babies and Starships

Pairing: Christopher Pike x OC

Rating: Teen

Notes: For a friend who had a trying week.

Summary: Captain Pike greets the newest member of Enterprise's family.

The lights in sickbay were dimmed to their nighttime setting when Chris entered. Scanning the room he spotted her sitting in the makeshift nursery, holding a small bundle in her arms and gently rocking. Stopping at the room’s doorway, he leaned against the wall and let her soft soprano voice wash over him, soothing away the jagged edges of his day.

Oh little angel, shining light You've set my soul to dreaming You've given back my joy in life You've filled me with new meaning.

A savior king was born that day A baby just like you And as the Magi came with gifts I've come with my gift too.

That peace on earth fills up your time That brotherhood surrounds you That you may know the warmth of love And wrap it all around you.

It pleased him that she sang only in their quarters, that it was a special thing she reserved for him, well him and now this newest addition to the ship.

When the lullaby finished, Chris walked over to Aalin, tilted her chin up and kissed her. That told her everything about his mood. He shied away from intimate public displays of affection and with Chris every kiss was intimate.

“It’s midnight,” he whispered.

“You weren’t in the ready room or our quarters,” she answered quietly.

“I was … roaming.”

“Hmmm. I knew you would end up here eventually.”

“Phil said the baby is healthy and strong and her mother is doing well,” Chris said.

“Yes, and her father is alternating between extraordinarily proud, happy, and terrified.”

Enterprise was in month thirteen of waiting out the Klingon war outside of Federation space, held in reserve as a last chance contingency plan should the worst come to pass.

There is a common misconception that pregnancy and childbirth never occur on Starfleet ships. That is wrong, and while the situation is not common neither is it rare. Life finds a way, it happens. As the Federation takes on longer and longer missions further into deep space it is inevitable. Contraceptives fail, a mission is extended by choice or by circumstance and some species cannot push back nor interrupt their reproductive cycles.

Aalin leaned down and brushed her cheek against the baby’s. “Little one, time to meet the man you are named for.” She looked up at her husband. “This is Christina.” At that moment Christina opened her eyes and smiled at Chris, revealing two dimples in her cheeks.

“She’s beautiful,” Chris said softly as he gently placed his hand on top of the baby’s head.

“Yes, do you want to hold her?” Aalin asked.

The mighty Captain of Enterprise paled. “Uh, no. I don’t think so … don’t know how.”

“It’s not difficult. There are only two rules, support her head and neck and don’t drop her.”

“She is content in your arms, and I like watching the two of you,” he answered before sitting on a nearby sofa.

Aalin hummed quietly until Christina fell back into sleep. “There is a rumor you had a transmission from Command,” she said.

Chris sighed. “Yes. No causality lists, but no good news either. The united Klingon houses now control twenty percent of Federation space.”

“That’s … almost inconceivable. Are they calling us back?”

He shook his head. “Not yet. I fear that is a sign Command expects the situation to worsen. I’ll tell the crew tomorrow.” Chris pointed to Christina. “Tonight let’s just focus on this miracle.”

Aalin reached out and clasped his hand.

“Do you ever regret our choices? That it’s unlikely we will have a child of our own?” Chris asked. “You’d be an amazing mother.”

“Regret is too strong a word. Do I think about a different path with you? Here and there, if I am holding a newborn or when we were getting messages from home if I’ve received a note from a friend sharing a funny or touching moment with one of her children. That said, I am happy with us two. Do you think about it?”

“Like you, here and there. These past few months I’ve thought about feeling our baby moving inside you, about who a child of ours might grow up to be.”

She nodded. “It has been very present with two pregnancies on board this past year.”

They lapsed back into silence. Christina woke briefly, stretched her tiny arms, yawned, and gurgled. “My brothers and sisters are quite prolific having taken the commandment be fruitful and multiply seriously. By taking me on you gained a stable full of nieces and nephews.” Aalin’s brow creased slightly, and she shook her head as if disbelieving. “When did my sentences become laced with equine references?” She continued in an amused tone of voice, “The things one picks up when sharing a small living space with another.”

“Being an uncle will be nice and a lot of fun,” Chris replied confidently. “And you did promise to learn to ride my horse when we get leave.”

It felt good to talk about the everyday life all prayed still existed when and if Enterprise returned home.

“This probably sounds … silly? I don’t know …” Chris started.

“Go on.”

“I feel … with the pregnancies and babies on board I feel more pressure to keep us all safe and get us home,” he admitted.

Aalin nestled Christina in her bed and sat beside her husband, lacing her arm through his. She reached up and brushed the hair off his forehead. “Of course. Some of it’s biology, the instinct to protect the next generation.” She smiled at him fondly, “But mostly it’s because you’re an all-around good guy. And I love you very much.”

“I never get tired of hearing those words, nor of saying them to you.” Chris replied with a smile of his own.

Phil Boyce walked by and paused catching a rare glimpse inside the Captain’s private world. Chris and his wife sitting close to one another, her head against his shoulder and an arm twined around his waist. Chris was whispering in her ear. She placed her other hand on his chest and nodded. He smiled down at her. Both looked content.

A/N: The above lyrics are an excerpt from John Denver’s A Baby Just Like You. It is rumored to have been written by John Denver at the request of Frank Sinatra who wanted to express his profound joy at the birth of his granddaughter Angela whose birth coincided with the birth of John Denver’s son Zachary.

[elen-aranel]

Lt., Phone Home Part 2 (Part 1)

The Engineer’s Adventures

1-1 • 1-2 • 2 • 3 • 4

A sequel to Lt., Phone Home For @autumnleaves1991-blog who said she’d read one if I wrote it. Pairing: Captain Christopher Pike x F!Reader (no Y/N) Warnings: none really! Canon typical injuries to other characters, alcohol consumption, plot WC: 1.6k A/N: I’m still so new at this!

If you’d been able to finish your level three diagnostic before the Layrians sent you to the past, you would have detected the fault and this wouldn’t have happened.

You only have a second to think that, though, because ‘this’ is a console exploding in Chief Engineer Louvier’s face, sending him, Ensign Devrin, a Tellarite newly transferred to the Enterprise, and Crewman Park flying.

“Engineering to sickbay! Medical Emergency!” You have your communicator in one hand, tricorder in the other, scanning. You want to check on Louvier, see if he’s okay, but there’s a fault in the EPS system and if you don’t get it locked down quickly, the warp core may blow. You look around to see who you have, and a lot of shocked eyes meet your gaze. You take charge.

“Harrison, see to Louvier and the others. Okorafor, vent the plasma manifolds. Mason, isolate the console from the rest of the system. Everyone else stand by.” You run through the checklists in your head.

“Engineering to Bridge, there’s a problem with the EPS system and we’re going to need to shut down the warp core immediately. Louvier is injured,” you add, explaining why you’re calling and not him.

“Yellow Alert. Helm, drop us out of warp. Keep us updated Lieutenant,” Number One’s voice is calm as you feel the ship’s vibrations change as you drop into normal space.

“Computer, emergency warp core shutdown. Authorisation Gamma Epsilon one-two-zero.”

“Unable to comply. Control circuits are offline.”

The console must have taken out the circuitry when it blew. No time to fix it – you need to do this manually.

You dash to the other central console, the one that’s still undamaged, and start entering commands.

“Michaels, if I can’t shut the core down we may need to eject it. Can you check those systems are running please?”

You really need someone to keep an eye on the impulse engine too, since if that overheats it can cause a lot of problems but you can’t eject it. You look around – a team of medics have arrived and are loading the injured onto stretchers, helped by a couple of engineering crewmen. You should be getting reinforcements soon now that the ship’s at yellow alert, but they aren’t here yet. You spy a gold uniform, standing out among the red and blue.

“Captain?” What’s he doing here?

“I was passing by when I heard the yellow alert. Number One told me the problem was here. Can I help?”

“Yes.” You point to a console. “Monitor the temperature of the impulse drive. If it gets above 400 Kelvin, increase the coolant. If it doesn’t come back down, let me know.”

“Aye, Lieutenant.”

You go back to your console, manually going through the power-down checklist. It’s stressful, especially when there are a few hiccups along the way with errors related to the damage that occurred, but you’re in your element here.

“Warp core offline,” you announce at last, as more staff arrive finally. Now you can get to fixing the actual problem.

“You have more than earned that drink,” Captain Pike says, as you walk down the corridor together some time later. The ship is back at warp, Louvier is in sickbay still recovering from plasma burns, but he, Devrin and Park will make a full recovery. Repairs are almost complete, and you would have stayed until they were done had Pike not gently remarked that you had mentioned you had a prior arrangement. You hadn’t mentioned it, of course, but no one else was to know. Pike had stayed in Engineering for the duration, fetching and carrying, checking readings and generally making himself useful. Having him around was good for crew morale, especially when you hadn’t known the prognosis for your colleagues. Your friends. Now the remainder of the work is in the capable hands of Lt Asher who came in a couple of hours early for gamma shift tonight.

“I need it,” you say, fervent. “This has been a day.”

“I didn’t think I was going to be able to drag you out of Engineering, but now that I have... would you like to get dinner? I think we could both use a decent meal.”

You suddenly realise you’re starving. “Thank you, Captain. I’d like that.” You smile at him, and he grins back, showing his dimples again.

“Call me Chris now we’re off duty,” he says as you reach the turbolift and he pauses to let you go first.

“Sure, Chris,” it comes out easier than it did on Earth in the past, somehow. Maybe you’re used to it.

The Captain’s dining room is spacious, and well appointed. It has a dining table and chairs, and sofa and low table with a vase of fresh flowers beneath a large window, showing the stars going by at warp. The lighting is soft, but a small spotlight highlights a model of the Enterprise on a shelf in the the corner. The overall effect is pleasing, but it seems a little impersonal, somehow. Except maybe the large earthenware pot on the shelf below the miniature ship. That doesn’t seem like the sort of thing a starship designer would put there.

“A traditional Navajo pot,” Chris says, following your gaze. “It’s from California, where I grew up. I don’t eat here often, but even here it’s good to have a reminder of home.”

He heads to the synthesiser. “Is chilli okay? It’s based on a family recipe. But I do keep tweaking it. It’s my go to comfort food, after a day like this.”

“That sounds really good,” you reply, letting him pull out a chair for you and watching as he brings nachos, sour cream, salsa, guacamole and two wine glasses from the synthesiser.

“It’s not beer, but it is real,” he says, opening a cupboard set beneath the synthesiser and withdrawing a bottle of red wine and a corkscrew hanging just inside the door.

He pours you each a glass. “Zinfandel, from California. Another taste of home. Cheers,” he says.

“Cheers,” you reply, clinking your glass and taking a sip. The flavour is bold and you taste berries, with maybe a hint of liquorice and vanilla. “This is good,” you add, taking another sip as he brings the food over.

“Given today, only the best will do,” he gives you a lopsided smile, blue eyes twinkling, and you can’t help but be charmed.

Conversation flows easily over the delicious meal – Pike’s chilli is good, and you tell him so. He tells you about growing up in the desert, and you chat about your former postings, swapping stories of engineering disasters. As the evening wears on you find yourself on the sofa, box of dark chocolate truffles on the table in front of you, with only a couple left. You yawn a little, and catch sight of the chronometer above the synthesiser – when did it get so late?

“Keeping you up past your bedtime?” Chris winks at you, and you grin back, totally at ease.

“You’ve got to admit, it’s been a long day. I can’t help thinking that if those aliens could’ve held off for a few minutes before pulling us through time, I could have finished my diagnostic, and the excitement in Engineering wouldn’t have happened,” you say as you stand.

“You were good, though,” he says, standing with you. “Not many days you can say you saved both the timeline and the ship.”

You feel yourself warming at the praise, and cover it by getting your jacket from where you’d shed it on the back of your chair earlier. Chris helps you put it on, lingering close.

“I believe it’s traditional at the end of the date to walk the lady home, but I’m guessing you can find your way,” he says with another little smile, voice a little deeper.

“Maybe that tradition wouldn’t be appropriate, but I can think of another that would work,” you say, and you feel your heart beating a little faster.

“Yeah?” He asks, his hands on your shoulders, and your eyes linger on his mouth before travelling up to his soft blue eyes.

“Yeah,” you say, and your voice comes out breathy but you don’t mind because he’s drawing you closer, one hand on your back, one hand moving along your jawline. He tilts his head and your hands come up to his chest, feeling the muscle there beneath his shirt. Your eyes flutter closed as his lips find yours and then the ship falls away and it’s just you, him, and the stars making warp trails around you. You gasp slightly and open your mouth, and his tongue brushes yours and you taste chocolate, red wine, and him. Your hands move round his neck as the kiss deepens, and you press against him.

Eventually you break apart, breathing heavily. There’s a slight look of surprise in his eyes, and you think it must be reflected in yours – you didn’t expect your good night kiss to be that intense.

“Well, good night, Chris. Thank you,” you say, fastening your jacket, trying to get a handle on your breathing.

“Dinner tomorrow?” He asks, eyes searching your face. “Maybe, uh... in my quarters?”

“Yes, I’d like that,” you say. “See you tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” he says, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to your fingers, eyes full of promise. You pull your hand away reluctantly, smile, and leave before you can get tempted into anything more. Even though you’d like to you have alpha shift in the morning and he has a whole ship to run.

You wonder what tomorrow will be like. Maybe another unusual day would be a good thing.

[lostcybertronian]

Post-Disaster Exhaustion

Fluffy Spirk fic.

---

Disaster after disaster struck: first, a Klingon attack, resulting in heavy damage to the Enterprise and an emergency stop on Vulcan; second, a distress call from a Starfleet ship in the far reaches of space that turned out to be fabricated, and a black hole that was anything but fabricated; third, a malicious shapeshifter; fourth, well, Jim had lost track at that point. But he did know that the entire crew-- himself included-- had been run ragged by the constant crises, and that, by the time everything settled down, he was dead on his feet.

    Yet Spock continued, remaining at his station even as alpha shift departed, a group of officers so exhausted no one even bothered to speak.

    “Are you coming, Captain?” Uhura asked as Jim paused, hesitating at the door to the lift in favor of turning back toward Spock.

    But Jim barely heard her. How long has it been since you’ve slept, Spock? He asked through their bond, probing tentatively, but only finding firm resistance. It’s been at least since I slept last.

    Vulcans do not require as much sleep as humans. Was Spock’s reply. Automatic.

    “Captain?” Chekov called. “I wish for my bed.”

    “Yes?” Jim looked over his shoulder at his crew. “Go on without me,” he replied, “I’d like to speak with Mr. Spock for a moment.”

    There came a chorus of “yes Captains,” and a few shrugs, then the door to the lift closed and they were gone.

    “We only have a few minutes until the next shift arrives to take us over,” Kirk said, crossing the bridge to the science station, which Spock still diligently occupied. “I’d rather us be gone before then.” He ran a hand through his already mussed hair. “I don’t particularly want to speak with Ensign Parker today.”

    Spock didn’t look up. “He does tend to be overeager.” 

    Kirk nodded. “Yes, indeed. Just the other day he--” he paused-- “am I correct in assuming, Mr. Spock, that you are trying to change the subject?”

    One eyebrow arched, and Spock raised his head to meet his gaze. “Your assumptions do prove logical.”

    “You know,” Jim said, offering two fingers which his second immediately went to meet. “I could order you to rest, as your captain.”

    “I believe that would be infringing on the boundaries of an intimate conversation, Captain.” One had to know Spock well to hear the frown in his otherwise monotonous tone, but also to see the willingness there; he would do as Jim commanded, were he to command. That was how he respected Jim.

    But Jim didn’t command; that was how he respected Spock. He bent close to his ear, well aware of the lift’s doors sliding open behind them, of beta crew emerging, and whispered, you will collapse eventually, Spock. Please come get some rest.

    He felt Spock give, felt the weariness trickling through their bond as he shut down his microscope and stood from his station. Very well.

    The beta crew began to trickle in as Spock and Jim made their way out, ignoring the confused glances and quiet murmurs. Ensign Parker opened his mouth to say something, but the lift door had already shut. 

    Jim hadn’t intended to shower when he returned to his quarters-- whenever that happened to be-- but he was certainly glad he did when he got out, finally clean of dirt and blood and sweat and smelling faintly of his favorite cologne. 

Spock opened one eye when Jim entered his quarters. He opened the other when the captain approached. A thick, green robe draped over his shoulders, and cinched at his narrow waist. The heavy sleeve fell from his wrist when he raised two fingers to meet his. 

    “I can feel your exhaustion,” Spock observed, soft. Softer than he usually addressed Jim. “Perhaps it would be prudent for you to sleep.”

    “I am exhausted,” Jim agreed, and stretched, feeling days of stress melt from his tired muscles at Spock’s unyielding calm. “I feel like I could sleep for a million years.”

    “Such a feat would be physically impossible, for a human.” Clearly, they still had some work to do on Earth metaphors. 

    Jim chuckled. “Most definitely.” He extended a hand. “Join me?”

    Spock smiled-- still a beautiful sight that set Jim’s heart aflutter, as if it were the first time he was seeing it-- and took his hand, rising from his meditation mat. “I do find myself quite tired,” he admitted, and Jim grinned.

    “I didn’t think I’d ever hear you, Mr. Spock, admit to being tired,” he teased. “What a human thing to say.”

    One delicate eyebrow arched. “I should hope you wouldn’t repeat it.”

    They settled onto Jim’s bed, a tangle of limbs and drowsy bond. Neither could be sure what was theirs and what wasn’t.

    “Your secret is safe with me,” Jim promised, after a moment of quiet content. 

    Spock nodded but said nothing more, seeming satisfied to watch the lure of sleep pull Jim under.

[solarwindswriting]

Oh, The Places You’ll Go

Chapter 2

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Loosely inspired by the song Greek Tragedy by the Wombats

Pairing: Scotty x FemalePresenting!Reader

Word Count: 3313

Summary: The Enterprise welcome party is in full swing, and our two main characters finally meet each other!

Warnings: excessive alcohol consumption (I think that’s it)

A/N: So, I didn’t notice how long this part was until it was too late. I wanted to slip it into two but I couldn’t find a reasonable place to do it. So instead you get over 3k words. Sorry lol. Also, thank you so much to those who showed interest in being tagged, you have no idea how big that is for me!

Tags: @mournthewicked @damalseer  

“Oh my, does this dress make my butt look bigger?” Sara asks, standing in front of the mirror in a shop.

“Is that what you want? If so, yes. Why do you need a new dress anyway? You have so many beautiful ones already.” Y/n wonders out loud while looking through the racks.

“Because I want to make a good first impression. Besides, I heard the crew of the Enterprise are all quite attractive. I’ve got to live up to that.” Sara responds, walking back into the dressing room.

“Sara, you are one of the most attractive people I know. Neither of us would have a problem if we went in something we already owned.” Y/n laughs, pulling out a flowing deep blue dress off the rack. “What about this?”

Sara pops her head out of the dressing room, watching as Y/n holds the dress up to her body. Sara’s eyes widen and shake her head frantically in agreement before her head disappears back into the dressing room, “absolutely. Go try that on right now.”

Y/n walks into a dressing room with the dress in hand. The dress was made with elegant royal blue tulle with embroidered stars speckled over the top layer. It fell over Y/n’s body perfectly, off the shoulders and stopped to about mid-calf, and whished when she moved. Stepping out, Y/n looks at Sara who was now sitting in a chair with the black cocktail dress she had tried on previously.

“You look like a greek god in that dress, Y/n,” Sara mused.

Y/n walked in front of the mirror and twirled. “Is it too much? If I get this, you have to pick a more exciting dress than what you’ve got.”

“It’s not too much but if it takes me getting that dress that makes my butt look good for you to buy that, I’ll do it,” Sara responds while walking over to the rack where she found the aforementioned dress.

With both dresses paid for, the friends left the shop and headed to Y/n’s apartment to pick up the things she needs to get ready at Sara’s.

“So, Let’s see what we’re getting ourselves into,” Sara started, looking at her datapad with photos of the crew while she walks.

“Sara, we’ve looked at these photos thousands of times. We know what they look like,” chuckles out Y/n, weaving their arm with hers.

“Yes, but that was different. Now we’re performing reconnaissance for the party tonight.” 

“And what does your reconnaissance tell you?” Y/n glances at the pad.

“That Lieutenant Uhura is very attractive and only one rank above us.” Sara giggles as she reads Uhura’s personnel entry. “She’s also incredibly smart.”

“And very taken by Commander Spock,” Y/n points to the relationship status on file.

Sara deflates slightly before swiping through the next few personnel files. She stops on Commander Spock next.

“And this is the Vulcan you’ll be working under. Good luck with that, Y/n. I hear he’s rather cold.” Sara comments before continuing to swipe.

“He’s not that cold if he’s in a relationship. Also, isn’t he half human?” Y/n stops Sara before she walks into the busy street.

Sara ignores the potential harm she could have caused herself, and next stops on Lieutenant Commander Montgomery Scott, better known as Scotty. 

“Cheif of Engineering. I hear he’s basically married to the ship,” Sara laughs and restarting to walk once the crosswalk is open.

“Next,” Y/n chuckles bad.

“Lieutenant Commander Leonard McCoy, Chief Medical Officer. I heard he has a cute accent but is a bit of a hardass. Remind me not to get hurt a lot.” Sara side-eyes Y/n while she talks.

“Good to know. Bet he knows how to make a good drink though.” Y/n speculates as they enter their apartment building.

“And Lastly, for the head of different groups, Captain James T. Kirk. Quite the looker.” Sara smirks to herself.

“And quite the flirt,” Y/n laughs at her friend as she unlocks her apartment. “I’ll be right over. I just need to pick up a few things.”

Living in the same building as your best friend had its perks. Getting ready for events was one of them. After picking up her makeup and a pair of heels that match her dress, Y/n walks over to Sara’s apartment and opens the door.

“Hey, why didn’t you wake me up this morning?” Y/n questioned, setting her makeup down next to Sara’s.

“Oh, I tried, you wouldn’t budge. I figured you’d make it eventually. And you did! So points for Sara.” She muses as she grabs two hard ciders from her fridge.

“I could have missed graduation!” Y/n fakes anger as she takes the cider from her dear friend.

Both get to work on their makeup and hair. Sara loosely curls her auburn hair, whereas Y/n does her hair in her favorite style. Once they were both ready, they left Sara’s apartment towards the location of the welcoming party, an old-style bar reminiscent of old San Francisco. The two stood in front of the main doors, peering into the windows, unsure if they should just walk in or not.

“Lieutenants! Very nice to see you two could make it.” A strong hand falls on Y/n’s shoulder, causing them and Sara to turn towards the voice to see a hand outstretched. “How about a proper introduction? I am Captain James T. Kirk. You’re welcome to just call me Kirk when we are off duty. And this is Commander Spock.”

  Y/n takes Kirk’s hand to shake then trading with Sara to shake Spock’s. “I am Lieutenant Junior Grade Y/n Y/l/n. I just go by Y/n when off duty. And this is-”

“Lieutenant Junior Grade Sara Conners, Sir! It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Well, we should probably get inside and join the party, yes?” Kirk suggests, holding the door open for the other three.

The music playing was just above a comfortable volume, but quiet enough where you could hold a conversation without yelling. Sara and Y/s walk up to the bar to order drinks when a young man approaches them with a wide smile.

“Hello, I’m Pavel Ch-”

“Chekov. Navigation right?” Sara finishes for him, reaching out her arm. “Sara Conners. A pleasure to meet you!”

Pavel chuckles shaking Sara’s hand, “Did your research I see. And you are?” He finishes with a soft Russian accent, looking at Y/n.

“Y/n Y/l/n.” She says, shaking his hand. “Got any suggestions on what to order from here?”

“Well, the midtier brandy is spectacular here. But they do have a wonderful mint julep.” He states before waving over the bartender and ordering himself a brandy.

“We’ll take two mint juleps please.” Sara catches the bartender before he’s able to walk off.

“So, are you two in a relationship? You seem very close.” Pavel questions, sipping from his glass.

“No, just really close,” Sara answers, reaching for the newly arrived drinks and handing one to Y/n.

“Ah, cool,” Pavel beams. “Have you met the rest of the bridge crew yet? I can introduce you!”

Pavel leads Sara and Y/n to a table where Kirk and Spock were sat with two others.

“This is Nyota Uhura and Leonard McCoy. You’ve met the Captain and Spock already, yes?” Pavel introduces the crew with a bright smile. “Everyone, this is Y/n Y/l/n and Sara Conners.”

Hello’s and handshakes were exchanged. Pavel is pulled away by a few other ensigns towards what Y/n now notices a karaoke machine.

“So, Lieutenant Y/l/n, You will be working under me. Is there a particular area of study you wish to work on while abroad the USS Enterprise?” Spock questions.

“Oh, um yes. I’m looking specifically for new worlds with large deposits of Bio-mimetic Gel. It has many wonderful medical applications but very-” Y/n is cut off by Leonard.

“Regulated by the Federation. Do you have the proper paperwork and training to be handling such a hazardous material, young lady?” Leonard questions.

“Hey, we’re here to celebrate and have a good time, not to discuss work. Give the girl one more night of freedom.” Kirk interrupts and chuckles. “Also, call him Bones, he hates it.”

“I would love to answer your question, Lieutenant Commander McCoy. My last two years at the Academy majorly consisted of training and research with Bio-mimetic Gel under the supervision of Erika Biordi. My research has been in stabilizing the gel for transport and more widely used medical purposes. I have papers signed by President Kenneth Wescott and the proper containment materials that should already be aboard the Enterprise. This could be major for doctors all over the Federation. Also, I wouldn’t be able to do this work unless the Captain has approved it.” Y/n smiles thinly at the doctor.

Kirk, Spock, and Uhura all look impressed by the confidence in which Y/n spoke. Bones looks more apprehensive about the situation. Kirk broke the silence, “Y/n have you met Scotty yet?”

Y/n shakes her head no and notices Sara slinked off at some point to talk with Pavel more. Kirk leads Y/n towards the back corner to a table with three chairs. At the table sat a gentleman in a brown leather jacket and a Roylan both embroiled in a heated conversation about… power converters?

“No, Keenser, that will overload the Warp Drive, she won’t be able to take that kind of power without the proper energy suppressers.” A thick Scottish accent talks tensely between sips of whatever is in his glass.

“Can no one on my ship take a day off?” Kirk laughs, clapping his hand onto Montgomery’s shoulder.

“Ey, not when you have a potential explosion risk due to Keenser, Sir,” Montgomery responds.

“Well, I’ve got bad news then. I’d like to introduce you to Lieutenant Junior Grade Y/n Y/l/n. One of the newest graduates from Starfleet Academy. She will be studying Bio-mimetic Gel.” Kirk pulls the third chair out and motions to Y/n to sit. “She’s not getting along so great with Bones and thought you two might get along better.”

And with that Kirk walks away. The three are quiet, Y/n sipping on her mint julep that She’s about half done with.

“Sorry, I didn’t know I’d be interrupting a conversation. You can act like I’m not here.” Y/n said just loud enough to be heard over the sound of Sara and a couple of ensigns poorly singing Africa on stage.

“Why did you decide to study Bio-mimetic Gel?” The question from Montmonery surprised Y/n.

“Oh, um, when I was younger, Bio-mimetic Gel saved my mother’s life while out on a five-year mission. Her ship shouldn’t have even had any onboard, but they had just commandeered some from a smuggling vessel. If they hadn’t found that ship when they did and the doctor on board willing to take the risk, my mother would be dead and I would never have been born. So, when I heard they were wanting to do more research into it to potentially make it a commonly used substance by Federation doctors, I jumped at the chance. Sorry, that’s probably a lot more information than you were asking for.” Y/n found herself rambling.

The Cheif engineer just shook his head slightly, finishing off his drink. “No, I asked, Lass. I rarely get full explanations of why someone joined Starfleet. It’s refreshing. I’ll be right back, I’m going to get a refill. Can I get you anything?”

“Yeah, Sure. I’ll take one of whatever you’re getting. Thank you, Montgomery.”

“Please, call me Scotty.” He said, before walking off towards the bar.

Keenser and Y/n sat in more silence as they finished their drinks waiting for Scotty to return. Peering towards the bar, Y/n notices Scotty being stopped by some ensigns to chat.

“So, how long have you been on the enterprise?” Y/n asks Keenser.

Keenser babbles in his native tongue something along the lines of “not very long.”

Y/n nods in acknowledgment, “very cool. Do you like it?”

Keenser simply nods as Scotty returns, placing a glass in front of Y/n.

“Thank you, Scotty.” Y/n smiles at the man now sitting across from them.

“No problem, Lass. This will unfortunately be my last drink for the night. Going to head up to the Enterprise tonight to get a head start on some undocking prep. Coming with Keenser?” Keenser huffed in response, Finishing his drink and hopping down from his chair.

“Oh, okay. Have a goodnight then. Don’t overwork yourself. It’s supposed to be a night off.” Y/n waves goodbye to Scotty and Keenser.

Almost as soon as they leave, their spots are taken by Sara and Pavel.

“Y/n! You HAVE to get up there and sing!” Sara’s words slur as she waves her arm towards the small stage in the bar.

“Yes, you should take her advice, Lieutenant,” Pavel smiles towards Y/n.

“No, I’m perfectly fine here. And call me Y/n, Pavel. When do you want to go home, Sara?” Y/n looks with a soft smile towards her friend. She isn’t feeling the alcohol as intensely as Sara but she assumes that’s because she’s had significantly fewer drinks than her friend.

Sara looks at Y/n like they’ve just committed the most heinous crime. “What do you mean you don’t want to go up and sing. You have the most beautiful voice! And I bet your dress would look stunning under those lights.” Sara leans further into Y/n, head now resting her head on her shoulder, and whispers, “You can sing that old Earth song you like so much.”

Y/n chuckles at her friend while shaking her head. “You’re going to have to get a lot more alcohol into me before I’m willing to sing in front of the whole crew.”

Before Y/n could finish talking, Pavel was already up and at the bar, ordering a double round of shots. After a couple of minutes, he returns with a tray of purple shots. The trio cheers the first round to their health and quickly follows it with another to their safety aboard the ship. The trio continues to drink and after about an hour, Y/n is successfully sloshed. Sara convinced Y/n and Pavel to sing Sara’s favorite song that her grandmother loved called ‘Shut Up and Dance’. This was not a song to sing well, but more to just yell the word to. They even got a few of the old crewmates to sing along. Y/n was having a blast and finally thought she couldn’t wait to be working with these people. A group of nurses went on next and sang some modern rock anthem.

Y/n cut themself and Sara off after that song and convinced Sara to drink some water and eat some more food. Both slowly started to sober up, Pavel never seemed very drunk though. People begin to leave back to their homes or hotels for the night. It was starting to get late. Y/n shivers.

“Are you cold, Y/n?” Pavel asks.

“A bit, but I’ll be fine.” Y/n smiles at the kind man.

“Um,” Pavel looks around and spots something on the back of Sara’s chair and grabs it, “put this on.”

‘Scotty’s jacket? When did he take that off?’ Y/n wonders to herself as she slides the jacket on. ‘I’m sure her wouldn’t mind. I’ll just bring it to him on the ship tomorrow.’

“Y/nnnnn, come ooon. Barely anyone is left and I got you drunk like you said I had to. Go sing a solo song.” Sara nudges Y/n elbow towards the stage again.

“Fine, but I’m not happy about it!” Y/n laughs, walking onto the stage after the current song ends.

Sitting on a stool on stage, Y/n adjusts the mic to her sitting height. ‘Take Me To Church’ starts playing.

***

Scotty left earlier than he had planned. But talking with the new science officer made him feel odd and he didn’t want to be rude so he lied about needing to work on the ship. She’s much too young for him he thought. She has her whole life of research ahead of them. He couldn’t be with someone who dressed so elegantly, he was a bumbling fool and could never compare. She didn’t need him, some old Scotsman pinning for her. So instead, he and Keenser walked around the surrounding area until they got tired. About an hour had passed when Scotty realized something.

“Keenser, where’s my jacket?”

Keenser looks at Scotty and responds in his native tongue, “you left it at the bar.”

“Damnit, why didn’t you say anything?” He huffs out, turning around to walk back to the bar and get his Jacket.

He had walked further than he realized from the bar and took him about half an hour to return. As he entered the front doors, he watched Y/n walk onto the stage with his jacket on. Confused, he walks up to Kirk who now sat alone at the bar.

“Y/n said you went back to the ship,” Kirk prodded at the engineer.

“Yeah, but I noticed I forgot my jacket.” Scotty’s accent was unmissable.

“I noticed.” Kirk glances knowingly at Y/n who has started singing on stage.

Most people continued to talk but a few people stopped to listen to Y/n sing. Sara and Pavel sat at their table swaying dramatically to the song. Sara even started waving her arms slowly above her head, causing Y/n to chuckle as she sang. Scotty became enraptured in Y/n singing and began swaying lightly to her voice.

On the last line, “Good God, let me give you my life,” Y/n makes eye contact with Scotty, making her instantly blush.

Hopping off the stage, Y/n shuffles towards him while taking off his jacket.

“Sorry, Pavel found your jacket. I planned on giving it to you tomorrow on the ship but I got cold and put it on. Sorry.” Y/n talked fast, face beet red while shoving the jacket into Scotty’s arms and running back towards Sara before he could get a word out.

“Thanks,” Scotty whispers under his breath, looking down at his jacket.

He slides his arms into it, still warm from Y/n wearing it. Her song had entranced him. It wasn’t a song he was familiar with, must be old. He doesn’t usually care for music, but he thought he would listen to music for hours if she was the one singing it. Scotty shook his head free of those thoughts. By the time he came back to reality, Y/n was gone.

“What are you thinking about, Scotty?” Kirk prodded.

“Nothing, Sir. Goodnight” Scotty straightened out his back before leaving the bar and walking to his hotel room.

***

“Sara, it’s time to go,” Y/n spoke quickly

“What? But I’m still having fun.” Sara huffed.

“Yeah, and we both need to be up and on the transport shuttles at 0700. Let’s go, Rockstar. Goodnight, Pavel, we’ll see you tomorrow.” Y/n pulled Sara to her feet and waved goodbye to Pavel.

The cool, damp air was refreshing on Y/n’s skin. The walk wasn’t long to their apartments, which Y/n was thankful for. She helped Sara into her apartment and bed, setting their friend’s alarm with plenty of time to get ready before going to her apartment to do the same. Y/n quickly fell asleep with oddly invading thoughts of one Montgomery Scott.