#pre-relationship fluff

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Forgive my impertinence, but you have never been a very successful liar.” Taurik stated looking as impassive as ever. “The last time they visited, you barely spoke in conversation when they were present, and the same has been true today. Why remain silent when you are quite capable of contributing your thoughts?”

“Sometimes I forget how perceptive you are, Taurik,” I murmured staring at my drink as though it held an answer. “It’s just...well, they’ve never been very accepting when it comes to my decisions. Anything that doesn’t conform with their ideas of what my life should be is instantly wrong to them. The same is true of our conversations. If I try to insert differing opinions or thoughts, they just talk over me anyway, so what’s the point of even attempting to speak up? They’re just going to interrupt me or ignore me, so why bother?”

“You are their daughter. Do they not respect you?” The Vulcan looked thoroughly perplexed.

“I think they still see me as a child who doesn’t know nearly as much as they - the perceived adults - do,” I explained tracing the pad of one of my fingers idly around the rim of my glass.

“You were near the top of our class at Starfleet Academy. You have received commendations and are serving on the Federation’s flagship. I do not understand how they could see you as any less than the accomplished officer that you are,” Taurik stated, but all I could manage was a shrug. “Ashayam, I–”

“There you are. We’ve been looking for you all over this infernal ship. Why you had to join Starfleet in the first place, I’ll never know.” Oh no. The sound of my mother’s voice sent me shrinking in my seat. So much for a few minutes alone with my best friend. Both of Taurik’s hands reached across the table and grasped mine firmly. When my eyes met his, there was, dare I say, an almost mischievous twinkle there to greet me.

What was Taurik doing?

“We were told that yo–oh? Who might this be?” My father asked looking pointedly at the Vulcan who was very obviously holding my hands. Taurik brought my fingers to his lips before releasing them and standing. Offering my parents a traditional Vulcan greeting, Taurik behaved as though they weren’t giving him a once over.

“Sir, Ma’am. It has been a long time, but we have in fact met before. I am Ensign Taurik, though the last time you saw me, I was a Cadet at The Academy,” he informed them as I took a subtle, bracing sip of my Samarian Sunset. “Would you care to join us? We were just discussing our plans for further intimacy later this evening.”

My eyes nearly bugged out of my head, and I barely managed to avoid choking on my drink. Glancing quickly up at my parents, I saw they were faring no better. My mother’s cheeks were burning, and my father looked as though he was going to grind his teeth to dust.

“Taurik, my parents don’t need to hear about that,” I said, and he turned to face me just long enough to toss me a wink.

“My apologies, Ashayam. I simply thought that they would be glad to hear that their daughter’s needs are well met in all areas by her mate.” I bit my tongue hard at the Vulcan’s implication, and my mother cleared her throat.

“W-We didn’t mean to interrupt. We’ll find you later, sweetheart. It was lovely meeting you, Mr. Taurik.” The way she practically fled, dragging my father along with her out of Ten Forward made a giggle burst from between my lips before I could stop it. Taurik resumed his seat once the doors had hissed closed behind them.

“That was extremely presumptuous of me, I apologize. It appeared that the only reason your parents continued to behave disrespectfully toward you was because they felt comfortable doing so. Logic suggested that if I wished to stop them, I simply needed to make them...less comfortable,” he said, and I looked at him with a silly little grin on my face. “As they enjoy belittling you in public, I thought that making them feel foolish would accomplish the task efficiently.”

“Taurik...” I trailed off as I struggled for words. How could I possibly express my gratitude when a ‘thank you’ wasn’t nearly enough? “I-I don’t know what to say.”

“I understand. I deserve your censure for taking such liberties–”

“No! No, you don’t. That’s not at all what I meant,” I said reaching over and placing my hands over his. “I’m trying to thank you, but I don’t think words are adequate. You took a risk to try and help me, and I’m more grateful than I can express.”

“You...are not offended?” The Vulcan sounded astonished even as he turned his hands so that our palms met. Taurik wasn’t usually a very tactile person, and I’d forgotten that for a moment. He didn’t seem to be in any rush to discontinue the contact, though. In fact, he seemed to be encouraging it. His fingers closed gently over mine and he leaned a little closer over the side of the table.

For a moment, and not for the first time, I wondered what it would be like to kiss him, to truly be in a relationship with him. Taurik was my closest friend, but...there had always been a desire for more than friendship on my part. Even now, I was terrified that I might do something to jeopardize our friendship. We’d met back when we were both in The Academy, and we’d gone so far as to make sure we took postings together when we graduated. Suffice it to say that I didn’t think I could take it if I lost his friendship.

“No, I’m not. I promise. I...I should ask, though, wouldn’t your betrothed be angry about this if she found out you were faking a romantic relationship with a non-Vulcan?”

“I no longer have a betrothed to anger. She ended our engagement during the final year of our Academy studies when the revelation of her sexuality rendered our arranged marriage illogical,” Taurik explained in a quiet voice. Vulcans were very private beings. I hadn’t meant to make him reveal something so personal. Hell, we’d been friends for years, so the fact that he’d chosen to hide that from even me proved that it had to be something causing him discomfort. Guilt lanced through me, but before I could express my regret, Taurik’s voice knocked me out of my thoughts. “Ensign, you have no need to apologize. There was no way you could have known. In any case, your thoughts are, as always, loud enough for me to perceive your regret.”

Oh. Oh, right. Touch telepathy was a thing for Vulcans.

“Do not be sorry for that, either. It is...enjoyable to feel your thoughts in such an unguarded manner, as illogical as that may be,” he stated, and I let out a surprised little laugh.

“And here I thought you Vulcans didn’t like chaos.”

Before Taurik could respond, however, the red alert sirens began to blare and the computer called all hands to battle stations. We were both sent sprinting to our stations, all thoughts of mischief and faux relationships forgotten for the moment as we concentrated on our duties.

--

Hours later when the ship was out of danger and my shift had ended, I managed to get to my quarters and steal a moment of quiet in the sonic shower. Scrubbing the day off provided a modicum of peace and helped recenter me after the chaos of the battle. Wrapped in a soft robe, I put my hair up in a clip just in time for the door chime to sound. Tying my robe a little tighter, I called for whoever it was to come in.

A slightly battle-ruffled Vulcan stood just inside my door when I exited my bedroom. Taurik seemingly froze when he saw my state of dress, and his eyes skimmed the length of my body. Although the robe was the only article of clothing I was wearing, everything was covered, and he’d seen me in less when we were in The Academy. I didn’t know what was stunning him so much, but clearly this was a new experience for him.

“Taurik? Is everything alright?” The sound of my voice seemed to shake him out of his reverie.

“I came to make sure you were alright, and to ask if you would like further assistance,” he said taking a few slow steps toward me. Tilting my head curiously, I leaned against the edge of my desk.

“With what?” Instead of answering right away, Taurik walked slowly over to me and stopped only inches from me.

“On the way to my own quarters, I overheard your parents making plans to come to yours and berate you for your lack of availability and choice of partner earlier in Ten Forward. I wondered if you’d like me to be present to...what is the human expression? ‘To take some of the warmth off of you’?” I couldn’t help but giggle a bit at his attempt to use human slang.

“Close. It’s ‘to take the heat off’ of a person,” I clarified, to which he raised an eyebrow. “Taurik, you’ve already done so much for me. I couldn’t possibly ask you to endure more of their unpleasantness.”

“You should know by now that I value our closeness, and that to assist you in such a manner is in no way taxing for me.” Taurik spoke with such ease, as if he was discussing the weather, not talking about whether or not he should continue to pretend to be intimately involved with me. I’d agreed before I’d even realized I’d spoken. “Then it might be advantageous for you to teach me how to kiss you, in case the skill should prove necessary during our deception. I do not wish for my inexperience in human courting practices to compromise you.”

I blinked in surprise at his suggestion.

“You don’t have to do that. I know you’re not too comfortable with touching and being touched on even a platonic level. I can’t imagine kissing would be any more enjoyable, especially considering the physical intimacy involved.” I didn’t want him to feel he had to do anything he wasn’t comfortable with. 

“If you were the one teaching me, I do not believe I would feel uncomfortable,” he said catching my hands in his. “I assure you, Ashayam, I am a quick study.”

Feeling a whisper of anticipation fluttering in my chest, I nodded my head in agreement. I’d wanted to know what his lips felt like for so long, but...was it wrong to take advantage of his offer under these circumstances? It would be immoral to take pleasure in something he’d most likely despise, wouldn’t it? Then again, he had been the one to offer, and I’d finally have the answer to a question I’d been asking myself for years–

“Teach me, Ashayam. Please,” the Vulcan murmured looking into my eyes with an intensity I’d never seen from him before. Blinking quietly up at him, I freed one of my hands and reached slowly up to cup Taurik’s cheek.

“There’s no algorithm or formula for kissing, so just close your eyes and do what feels right,” I advised. He agreed closing his eyes, and I leaned carefully up to brush my lips against his. Taurik tensed up, and I paused, pulling back to put a little space between us. When he showed no signs of changing his mind, I kissed him a bit more solidly. After a moment’s hesitation, one of Taurik’s hands rested lightly on my waist.

A flash of thought that wasn’t my own flitted across my consciousness - broken whispers of soft...more...Ashayam.

Touch telepathy indeed. I couldn’t keep from smiling into our kiss. He wanted more? I’d happily give him what he wanted. I moved my lips gently against Taurik’s, deepening the kiss in a manner that I hoped he’d enjoy. When we eventually separated for air, Taurik looked at me through half-closed eyelids, and he gave no indication of a desire to move away from me. 

Somewhere in my subconscious, I was vaguely aware that the door chime to my quarters had sounded.

“Enter,” Taurik called in a low, rough voice. If he’d been human, I’d have said that his first kiss had stirred up some emotions. As it was, though, I didn’t get a chance to mull that fact over for long. The door to my quarters hissed open and in walked my parents.

“...all the impertinence. Really, dear, you expect us to believe that Vulcan at lunch was really interested in y–” she broke off when she caught sight of Taurik and how close he was standing to me. “Oh.”

Taurik turned to face them keeping his hand on my waist. He raised one harsh eyebrow as if challenging her to finish her thought. Seeming to think better of her action, she glanced at my father and cleared her throat.

“I...We came here to invite you - er, the two of you - to a late dinner in Ten Forward.” Dinner with my parents was the last thing I wanted, but it was probably only polite of me to accept. I couldn’t possibly expect Taurik to endure such suffering, though.

“It really depends on what you’d like to do, Taurik. I know we had plans,” I murmured.

“I see no reason why our plans cannot be postponed until after we eat, Ashayam,” the Vulcan answered tilting my chin up so I was looking into his eyes. How the hell could I argue when such a handsome Vulcan was being so persuasive?

--

“Does she ever cease talking, Ashayam?” The question in Taurik’s voice floated into my mind, and made me blink in surprise. Schooling my expression, I glanced over at the Vulcan holding my hand and he raised an eyebrow as if to give me a subtle nudge toward answering the question. So, I hadn’t imagined it.

“No, I’m afraid she doesn’t. What does ‘Ashayam’ mean, anyway? I’ve been wanting to ask you that for years.” I projected the thoughts his way, hoping he could hear me. With a gentle squeeze of my fingers, Taurik stole my breath with his answer.

“I would not have asked the question if I would not be able to hear your response. The term means ‘beloved.’” I felt my cheeks start burning at Taurik’s implication.

“Taurik, you’ve been calling me that since we graduated. There’s no way. Are you trying to tell me that you’ve been calling me your beloved all this time?” Trepidation gripped me at the possibility that I’d been unaware of something so significant for such a long time. Had he felt how much I wished that he had meant it? Taurik silently brought my hand to his lips.

“I did, and I have been, although, I fear I have not made my position clear. We must talk when your parents retire to their quarters for the night. I have not been as forthright as I intended to be.” Taurik’s grip on my hand tightened just a little, and I took comfort in the physical contact for the moment.

“Are you even listening to me?” My mother’s voice snapped me back to reality, and I replied with a dutiful ‘yes, mother.’ She began to drone on again, and my thoughts drifted back to the first time I’d ever heard him call me that.

About a week before graduation, I’d caught up to Taurik after class. He’d been chatting with Boothby in the courtyard when I took a seat next to him beneath the shade of the tree they were both sitting under.

“Well, hello there, Cadet. I was beginning to wonder when you were going to show up. You and Mister Stoic here are practically inseparable,” the groundskeeper said with a sly smile. “Taurik was just telling me that you both got assigned to the Enterprise.”

“Yes, sir,” I confirmed giving both my companions a little smile.

“You’ll have to tell Jean-Luc that his old friend Boothby said hello.” Jean-Luc? As in Captain Picard? We’d likely never get the chance to speak with him, but I heard Taurik agreeing to pass the message along.

“How was your final examination, Ashayam? It was temporal mechanics, if memory serves, was it not?” Taurik inquired, and I blinked. He’d never called me that before. It sounded like a Vulcan term, but I didn’t want to make myself seem any more foolish than he probably already thought that I was.

“I think I did alright, but only time will tell, if you’ll pardon the expression,” I answered, and Boothby let out a rough huff of amusement. He’d doubtless heard that before. Taurik merely raised an eyebrow in his usual, sardonic, Vulcan way.

“I’ve got some rose bushes to tend to. I’ll see you kids at graduation,” Boothby said as he drew himself to his feet. “Don’t celebrate too hard, y’hear? And Cadet Taurik...think about what I told you. I may not be a Vulcan, but I am an old man who’s seen his fair share of people. Only a fool would let go of something like that without a fight. So are you a Vulcan or a fool?”

“A Vulcan, sir,” Taurik answered as his cheeks went green, and with an approving nod, Boothby ambled away to attend to his duties.

I had always wondered what that comment had been about, but knowing he’d called me his beloved right in front of Boothby...that changed the way I viewed our friendship’s evolution.

--

Before I knew it, dinner had ended, and my parents were heading back to their quarters, leaving Taurik and I to our own devices. Once we had returned to my quarters, he coaxed me into sitting with him.

“I...thought that given our history together, my intentions would have been obvious given my behavior. As I am not familiar with human mating rituals, I was quite clearly mistaken,” Taurik said looking at me carefully for a reaction. “Over the years of our friendship, I have found you to be singularly diverting. Our hours together have been most enjoyable, and I do not seem to tire of your presence as I do with others. I have been wondering with increasing frequency if you would be interested in altering our relationship from platonic to romantic.”

Was he asking me out?

“Taurik, how long have you felt like this?” I asked as his hands covered mine on my lap.

“The thought first occurred to me briefly several months into our acquaintance and has only gained a stronger foothold since the day my betrothal ended. After which, I attempted to make my feelings known by behaving in a more familiar manner with you than with anyone else. I cannot imagine myself being bonded to anyone but you,” Taurik explained skimming his thumbs over the backs of my hands. “When you kissed me earlier this evening, I found it exceedingly difficult to control my emotions...and, if I may be so bold, your thoughts indicated that you enjoyed it as well.”

“I did,” I admitted barely louder than a breath. “I’d wanted to do that since the day we met.”

“Then would you like to give the new parameters an attempt?” He asked sounding almost hopeful. Biting my lower lip nervously, I nodded my head. With my hands in his grasp, Taurik gently manipulated my fingers until both hands were forming some sort of reciprocal gesture against his. Two fingers were straight and two fingers were bent beneath his. Before I could ask, Taurik touched his forehead to mine and spoke as his two extended fingers caressed mine. “You taught me how humans kiss. This is the Vulcan equivalent.”

Carefully, and a good deal slower, I copied his movements. Somehow this felt even more intimate and meaningful than kissing. After a few long moments, Taurik caught my hands in his and threaded our fingers together. My lips parted to ask if I’d done something wrong with the finger gesture thing, but before I could, he kissed my thoughts away. My heart thudded so loudly in my chest that surely Taurik could hear it.

By the time we separated for air, I was trembling lightly in his grasp. Bracing my hands lightly on his shoulders, I looked up at my Vulcan lover curiously.

“Taurik? What was it that Boothby said to you that day? Not much could have made you blush like that.” Even now, the question brought a flood of bright green to his cheeks.

“He suggested that I...’get a move on’ and ‘snatch you up’ before someone else beat me to it,” he admitted, and I couldn’t stop a surprised laugh. Of course Boothby had seen through him. He’d seen through me easily enough, so why not Taurik too? “Can I assume that I did not wait too long?”

"She's David's girlfriend," one insisted.

"No way, he doesn't have a girlfriend," another replied.

"She's probably just one of Taylor's friends," someone suggested, shrugging it off.

You leaned across the center console to grab your overnight bag from the ground and your purse from the passenger seat, trying to put on a brave face before facing the group.

You swung your door open and stepped onto the driveway. You were bombarded with questions and theories as you pushed through the crowd, not giving them any attention. Blinding flashes captured pictures that you were sure would end up on the internet as people guessed why you were at David's house.

"Guys, can you please go away?" Taylor shouted, opening the front door and giving you a smile as you stepped inside. The group were standing on the front steps, looking inside, hoping to catch a glimpse of David. "Dave's not going to talk to you guys, I'm sorry," she said, shutting the door and turning the porch light off, no longer giving them a view of David's house.

You gave her a quick hug and thanked her before walking into David's bedroom.

"You look hot," he breathed out, his eyes widening as he admired the black jumpsuit and red heels you were wearing. You rolled your eyes, secretly loving the flirty side of David that you hadn't ever seen yet. He was dressed in a button down and black jeans for your dinner date and his hair was relatively tamed. Your heels echoed across the wood as you walked over to give him a soft kiss.  

"You clean up nice," you chuckled, giving him another kiss.

David pulled up the security camera footage and saw the crowd of fans waiting for him to go outside was growing and let out a frustrated groan. There was no way for the two of you to leave without being seen.

"David, it's fine," you promised him.

He looked up at you, his eyes soft. "I'm sorry you have to deal with this," he whispered.

"It comes with the territory," you shrugged with a small laugh and a smile. You reassured David that things would be okay and followed him into the garage.

David threw your bags into the trunk and unlocked the car. You slid into the Ferrari, reaching across or David's hand and giving it a tight squeeze. He started the car and opened the garage door, the headlights illuminating the group of fans standing in the driveway. David's knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel with his left hand and carefully drove out. His right hand rested on your thigh and your hands were placed on top of it.

Their voices overlapped as they thought out loud, fighting for a chance to peep through the window and catch a glimpse at the two of you. The few that did see manage to see pointed out David's hand on your thigh, and they snapped pictures for the ones that didn't.

David drove slowly down his driveway, trying not to hit anyone, and you could tell he was anxious. He didn’t want to tell the internet he had a new girlfriend and you understood, but you both knew the news would spread like wildfire.

He drove slowly down his street, still tense as he turned on to another one.

"You can breathe now," you whispered, turning your head to look over at David, a smile on your face. You watched David's jaw relax and his grip on the steering wheel loosen as he breathed a sign of relief. The color returned to his knuckles and he gave your thigh a quick squeeze, glancing over at you, briefly making eye contact. He gave you a smile before turning to face the road.

He was much more relaxed as you had a lighthearted conversation, deciding not to worry about what was being posted about you two on social media until after the weekend. David's hand was wrapped in yours and as he drove, he occasionally lifted it up, peppering it with soft kisses.

Alistair cleared his throat, trying very hard not to look down again. "It suits you very well," he managed eventually. "Is it comfortable for you? I know it's ... different to what you normally wear."

"There are some changes I would make, certainly," she agreed easily enough. "But not so very many."

"I look forward to seeing them," he said, and abruptly blushed, stammering out an apology. "That is, when ... I mean, if ... Of course I mean if, I haven't made any decisions ... Well, I have, I just ..." He trailed off helplessly.

Felicita laughed gently as she twirled under his arm once again. "I am very glad to have made the short list, as it were," she assured him, her smile perfectly presented to those watching. Only the softness of her gaze gave credence to the tender warmth she shared with him through that smile.

Alistair's own smile softened in response as his arm wrapped about her back, promenading once again to the beat of the music. "I wanted to thank you for my birthday gifts," he said suddenly. "How did you get the shirt the right size?"

She smiled again, glancing up at him from beneath her lashes. "Your friend Demelza was very helpful," she told him in an easy tone. "She smuggled one of your more favored shirts out of your rooms so I could take measurements."

Alistair snorted with laughter. "Yes, that sounds like Dem," he commented, meeting her flirtatious smile with a comfortable smile of his own. "She likes you, you know."

"I am honored to know that," she answered, feeling a small thrill in the pit of her stomach that she had somehow managed to gain the approval of the king's best friend. "She takes a little getting used to, but I like her, too. We have something very profound in common."

Confusion touched his expression. "What would that be?"

Felicita's own expression lit up like a sunrise. "You, Alistair," she told him softly. "We are both rather fond of you."

His jaw hung loose for a moment as he attempted to assimilate this information. "You, uh ... you like me?" he asked, his tone not so much disbelieving as searching for confirmation.

Well, you did want to make yourself a contender. This is no time for beating around the bush. She swallowed down the tight nervousness in her throat before answering him.

"I like you very much, Alistair," she assured him.

He let out a low huff of breath, almost as though he had been holding it in anticipation of her reply, and a broad grin lightened his features. "Well, that's just lovely, isn't it?" he declared. "I like you, you like me, Dem likes both of us. We all like Maria. Everyone's very ... likeable."

Felicita couldn't help the teasing edge to her smile in the face of his nervous agreement with her. He does like me. All right, so he was right on the edge of babbling, but that was a good sign, wasn't it? Perhaps Ceri was right, after all. As they turned with the rest of the dancers to perambulate in the other direction, she caught sight of Arl Eamon, scowling directly at her in a decidedly unfriendly fashion. The expression on his face sent a chill through her, guiding her eyes to certain other faces in the noble crowd - all members of the Landsmeet who were present in the city. There was a fair amount of disapproval on several of those faces. It was a harsh reminder that Alistair liking her was not enough to win a place by his side for a lifetime.

"What was it that Arl Eamon gave to you?" she asked, suddenly recalling the surprisingly tense moment that had followed the arl's presentation of the king's birthday gift from himself.

Alistair's brow knotted unhappily. "A replica of my mother's amulet," he said shortly. "No doubt he can feel his grip on me slipping and thought to remind me he was my guardian for a while in my youth."

She snorted derisively. "He allowed his wife to make you sleep in the kennels," she pointed out - Anora had filled her in on a few details of the king's childhood that had horrified her. "I should not imagine those are memories you wish to recall."

"Actually, I rather liked the kennels," he admitted, his frown smoothing as he spoke. "It was always warm, even on cold nights."

Felicita felt a soft laugh escape her throat. "Every time I think I understand you, you surprise me again," she told him, pleased when his frown disappeared entirely into a wide smile.

"You know, I feel much the same way about you sometimes," he commented. "You don't much seem to like dogs, but I saw you cooing over that cat and her kittens under the dais this morning."

"Cats have more grace than dogs, your majesty," she answered with teasing smartness.

Alistair's grin widened. "Did you have cats growing up?"

"I did, as a matter of fact," she admitted in amusement. "A kitten for my seventh birthday. She provided me with several dozen kittens herself over the years, but sadly, she is gone now."

"Do you miss her?"

Felicita's smile was just a little sad as she remembered her first pet. "I do, sometimes," she admitted. "But she left me several daughters to love in her place, and of course, now I have her granddaughters to enjoy. I started with one, and I believe I have something in the region of thirty or so cats now."

"Thirty?" Alistair looked stunned. "How do you manage them all?"

She laughed at his consternation. "How do you manage all your hounds?" she countered. "Cats are far more independent than dogs, Alistair. They catch their own meals, and keep their own hours. All they really need me for is love, and I have a lot to give them."

He still looked slightly bemused. "Can you tell them all apart?"

"Most of the time," she assured him. "Though only a very few of them spend much time with me. The rest have become palace cats in their way - they refuse to be collared."

"I see," he said, rather weakly. "Are you really that averse to dogs, then?"

She smiled gently back at him. "I have not had much occasion to become friendly with dogs," she pointed out. "Your mabari are amazing creatures, and the puppies are very sweet. I think, with time, I could become as fond of them as I am of cats."

"I hope so," was Alistair's reply, his smile offering what she hoped was a reason to be glad as the music came to an end.

He bowed low over her hand as she curtsied, his breath tickling her knuckles for a long moment before they rose. To her surprise, he then tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow to escort her back to Anora, with whom she had been passing the time when he had asked her to dance in the first place. He hadn't exactly singled her out in asking her - as the king, he'd had to dance with all his prospective brides, including Maria before she'd grown weary and needed to go to bed. Indeed, he still had Ciara to go, who was clearly his objective as he bowed once again, turning to cross the hall as the musicians played the call for the next dance.

Anora smiled at Felicita as the princess sat down beside her, finally able to relax a little. The young man on the ternya's other side leaped up and scurried away to the banqueting table, returning with a fresh goblet of wine for the princess, which he offered to her with a nervous bow.

"Thank you, my lord." Felicita inclined her head to the young man as she took the cup from his hand, her lips twitching in amusement as he sank a little shakily back to his seat beside Anora.

"Have you met Alron, your highness?" Anora asked, not giving him a chance to recover from his brush with royalty with a hint of rather impish amusement of her own.

"I have not," Felicita told her, twisting to take a closer look at the young nobleman. "You are Bann Ceorlic's grandson, are you not?"

"I am, your highness," Alron confirmed, glancing uncertainly at Anora as though expecting her to give permission for him to speak to another woman. "The younger, I am afraid. I have no expectations on my grandfather's position."

"And no temperament for the Church?" the princess asked, her political intuition growing the longer she spent in Anora's company.

The young man managed a faint laugh. "I am more of poet than a priest, your highness," he admitted ruefully. "My grandfather had arranged a marriage for me, but I understand it has been postponed indefinitely."

Ah. So this is the one Alistair prevented from being married to Ciara. Felicita managed a warm smile, though her eyes turned toward the main floor, where Alistair was dancing with his only Fereldan lady. There was a lot of laughter there, she noted - smiles that were warm and comfortable, and made her heart ache.

"They look very well together, don't they?" Anora murmured to her, those insightful blue eyes seeing perhaps a little too much in the princess' carefully composed expression.

"They do," Felicita agreed quietly. "And why should they not? She is the flower of Ferelden nobility, and he, the king."

"I think they match a little too much," Anora commented. "The queen should compliment the king, not slavishly resemble him. They are a beautiful set to look at, certainly, but she has no confidence to express herself with. Of course, there are certain lords who would delight in having an easily intimidated queen to use for their own gains."

"And the Landsmeet has a great deal of influence over this particular decision."

Felicita sipped her wine thoughtfully. Now she was seated and still, she could feel the gnawing twist of aching in her lower back and abdomen, quietly wishing for some elfroot to dull the bleeding pains she endured every month. Now was not a good time for them to make themselves known.

"With respect, your highness, the Landsmeet may only express their opinion to the king," Alron offered, glancing between the two women. "The decision is entirely his own, as are all his decisions. He may take advice, but he does not have to adhere to it."

"That is very true," Anora agreed with him. "And if they are made aware of a few of the more unsavory aspects of some of the candidates that have withdrawn, they may yet change their more vocal opinions. An opinion bought is never secure."

"Some men, once bought, will remain true to their benefactor," Felicita pointed out, though she was more interested in the adoring gaze Alron was aiming at Anora whenever the blonde lady looked away from him. I do not think Ciara need worry about that young man pressing his suit. A sharp, roiling twinge in her belly made her stiffen, attempting not to show her discomfort. She had only to endure a few hours of dancing and socializing, but her cramps seemed determined to make those hours remaining interminable.

"You are correct, of course," Anora conceded with a smile. Her smile faded as she looked at the princess. "Are you quite well, Felicita? You seem a little wan."

Called out, Felicita scrabbled through her mind for an acceptable answer to give where a man was listening.

"A faint nausea, Anora," she said with a slightly pained smile. "An old friend, you might say."

Understanding gleamed in Anora's eyes. The teryna reached across to squeeze her hand gently, her young male companion apparently completely unaware of the moment of feminine bonding that was passing him by. Anora leaned a little closer and lowered her voice.

"You have gone rather gray around the gills," she told the princess gently. "No one will hold it against you if you excuse yourself on grounds of discomfort. Indeed, your absence will encourage the less palatable members of the courting ladies to expose themselves before the court."

Felicita snorted with laughter, but she did find herself considering this course of action. Not so much to show up a certain pair of ladies, but to dose herself with elfroot potion and lie down. She had spent all day ignoring the waves of pain that came and went, through the joust and melee, the meal, and now the dance. Perhaps it was a good time to bow out for the evening, though she had no wish to disappoint the king.

"Of course, one of the ladies has already managed to turn several minds against herself with her little performance over dinner," Anora went on, her tone resuming its gentle volume once more. "She didn't really believe that none of the rest of you thought to give the king birthday gifts, did she?"

"No, I am quite certain she knew we intended to have our own gifts delivered to him in private," Felicita assured her friend thoughtfully, glad of the distraction from the twisting ache in her belly for now. "She is not so subtly skilled a politician as she believes herself to be."

Anora's snort of derision was hastily turned into a polite cough. "Not skilled at all in feminine politics," she corrected. "Honestly, what possessed her to give him a gift with the clear expectation that he will have to give it back to her in ten days' time?"

Amandine's gift-giving had caused quite a stir, that was for sure. She had waited until the king had received his gifts from his court before offering her own - a luckenbooth brooch of shining silver. It was traditionally a wedding gift in Tantervale, two hearts entwined beneath a crown, and had clearly been given in the unsubtle hope that he might give it back to her by announcing that she was his choice. The self-serving gift - and its very public giving - had created many mutters around the feasting hall, and many of them were not complimentary.

"She is, perhaps, a little desperate," Felicita suggested, hiding the movement of her lips behind her cup. "With Leona's gentle announcement that she is bowing out of the race to the crown over breakfast this morning, Amandine must realize that her mistakes at the beginning have left her at a severe disadvantage."

"Starkhaven has bowed out?" Anora asked, eyes bright with interest. She scanned the room, finding the lady in question seated demurely beside Bann Teagan, deep in conversation with his wife. "How very interesting. Then the king's list to choose from is down from ten to a mere five."

"Four, in actual fact," Felicita murmured, careful to keep her voice so low only Anora could possibly hear her. "Callista is not so interested as she first appears. She is, however, enjoying pulling Delphine's nose at every opportunity."

Anora laughed aloud at this, glancing across the room to where Delphine was definitely in something of a temper. And, of course, now Felicita had pointed it out, the presence of Callista at the Orlesian girl's side, dominating the conversation in that small circle, was very likely the cause of that poisonous look on the pretty face.

"I am very glad to hear that," the blonde teryna admitted quietly, scratching her nose to disguise the words from any erstwhile lip-readers in the room. "An Orlesian queen would not help matters. Alistair is a popular king, but his popularity would plummet with Delphine on the throne beside him."

"With any foreign queen, I imagine," Felicita answered, her eyes following Alistair as Ciara swept under his arm in a fit of giggles.

She was very fond of Ciara, but she could not now deny the jealousy that rose whenever she saw her young friend and the king interacting together. They were so comfortable together; they suited one another. And Ciara was Fereldan - the people would be so happy to have a Fereldan queen.

Anora's gaze was kind as the princess glanced at her. "You should have a little more faith in the populace," she suggested gently. "Above all, they want their king to be happy. They know his history well enough. They want a good wife for him, not just a good queen for themselves."

"Everyone seems so intent upon encouraging me these days," Felicita drawled, disguising her discomfort in amusement for the moment. But that gnawing, twisting ache was refusing to let up. "I am sorry, Anora ... I think I will have to excuse myself. I am very uncomfortable."

"Of course, your highness." Anora rose with her to curtsy as Felicita took her leave, gesturing for the king's valet to come to her side. "I will make your excuses to the king."

"Thank you, ladyship."

With a grateful smile, Felicita took her leave, gracefully avoiding any further conversation with hopeful nobles to slip out of the hall. She pressed one hand over her womb as she walked away from the noise and the music, mounting the stairs to the guest quarters. Hoping some of that warmth would alleviate the pain for now,  she planned to call for Andra and ask for a warmed wheat-bag to be sent to her room. She felt pale; she could well imagine that she looked it, too, given Anora's description of her being gray around the gills. Thank Andraste that this will be over in just a day or two, she thought to herself. Her menses never lasted more than four days, though the irritability beforehand and the pains during made it seem far longer every month.

She heard the music and voice below grow louder for a moment, footsteps hurrying over the rush-covered flagstones.

"Fabs?"

At the top of the stairs, she halted in surprise, turning to find Alistair climbing them in her wake, his handsome face creased in concern for her. He paused with his foot on the top step where she stood, frowning with worry.

"Are you ill?" he asked urgently. "Anora said you weren't feeling well. Shall I call a physician for you?"

Felicita smiled wearily, shaking her head. "I am quite well, Alistair," she assured him. "And I will be myself again in a day or two. It is ... awkward ... to explain. But I can promise you that I will be perfectly well again in time for the trip beyond the city."

"How can you be so sure?" he pressed her, clearly too worried to use a little logic in the face of her confidence. "I really must insist on calling a physician. Even a mage healer. I don't like the idea of you suffering with something."

"Alistair ..." She reached out to lay her hand over his on the stone balustrade. "I am sure because this is something I contend with every month. Every woman knows this part of herself." Her smile gentled as comprehension began to dawn on his face, along with a nervous blush. "I do not need a physician. I need elfroot, a warm something to hold to my stomach, and a quiet place to rest. That is all."

"It hurts every month?" he asked, apparently horrified by this news.

"Not for every woman," Felicita assured him, amused and touched by his concern. "I am one of the unfortunate ones, I am afraid. You should return to your guests. I am quite well."

"What do you need again?" Alistair asked, turning his hand beneath her to gather her fingers into his palm and stroke his thumb over her knuckles. "Elfroot, something warm, and quiet?"

She nodded, biting her lip as something inside seemed to tremble at the gentle passage of his touch over her fingers. "I am capable of finding them for myself," she began, but he shook his head.

"I will make sure Andra brings you what you need," he said, smiling a little at her clear surprise that he knew which of the maids had been assigned to her. "Go and get as comfortable as you can. And please look after yourself, Fabs. I know a little about living with pain; I would not wish it on anyone."

Felicita's expression grew troubled as he spoke, her other hand reaching to envelop his palm between both her own. "You live with pain?"

Alistair's smile was resigned. "I live with the Blight, Fabs," he reminded her. "It is not a fate I would wish on anyone."

"Does it pain you so very much?" she asked, stepping down one stair to be a little closer, unable to hide her own concern for him. She had never even considered that to be a Grey Warden was to endure pain for a lifetime.

With sad eyes, he raised her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles gently. "Only when I am alone," he promised her. "I have lived with it so long that any distraction is enough to set it aside."

If she had been just a little more secure in her place, in his affections, she would have offered a kiss to his cheek, moved by the quiet strength she had never before realized was such a core part of him. She could only hope that the wife he chose would be good enough to know such things and act upon them, to look after him as he needed to be looked after in private moments. Alistair's smile returned as she looked up at him, his hand squeezing hers.

"Go and rest, Fabs," he told her gently. "I'll send Andra to you."

"And you should enjoy the rest of your birthday," she countered, glad to see him laugh in answer to that.

"If I do, will you promise to look after yourself this evening?" he bargained in amusement.

"I promise," she assured him, her own smile rising in answer as he kissed her knuckles again. "Good night, Alistair. And happy birthday."

"Good night, Fabs."

With a last smile, he released her hand and turned back down the stairs, calling to the nearest servant with instructions to find Andra and tell her what her Antivan mistress needed. Felicita watched him for a moment, her smile fading as the cramps in her belly intensified in the wake of his leaving. One hand pressed to her midriff, she hurried out of sight, eager to lie down and will the pain away. Only another day or so, she reminded herself. She would be herself again soon enough. But knowing that he cared enough to abandon his guests just to make sure she was well was warming to her heart. No matter how hard she tried, she could not help caring for Alistair Theirin. Perhaps there was still hope that politics would not rule the day when it came for his decision to be made.

“The feeling is mutual, sir,” I murmured feeling my cheeks heat up.

“I’ll show you to your quarters,” Captain Archer said, but Soval looked at him with an unreadable expression.

“Thank you, Captain, but I was wondering if the Ensign would do me the honor of escorting me in your place,” Soval replied, making Archer lift his eyebrows in surprise as he turned to me.

“I-I’d be honored to, Ambassador,” I answered, and Soval moved to my side. We walked in silence for a moment, before the Vulcan spoke up.

“Have you been well since our last meeting, Ensign?”

“Yes, Ambassador. And yourself?” I asked glancing up at him with what I hoped came across as a friendly smile.

“I have been well,” he stated, but there was something off about his tone. “I...have wondered about your well-being many times in my idle hours.”

That made my eyes flick back up to his face - his calm, impassive face that gave nothing away.

“Mine?” I couldn’t keep the surprise out of my voice. “But...I’m just an Ensign. A human officer of no particular importance.”

“A partially incorrect assessment. You are an Ensign and a human, but you are not insignificant to me,” Soval said as we continued down the corridor. That flummoxed me. Surely he couldn’t feel anything close to what I felt about him. Vulcans didn’t have feelings...right? Oh, who was I kidding? I still knew so little about his species. I was so ill-equipped to understand the nuances of whatever it was that Soval was trying to communicate.

“I really don’t see why, but thank you. That’s very kind of you to say,” I murmured as I averted my eyes.

“I do not speak in kindness. It is only logical that I should tell you the truth,” he stated, and once we reached the door to his quarters, he turned to face me. “Would you join me inside?”

If that question had come from anyone but him, it would have felt loaded.

“Of course, Ambassador.” Following him inside, I wondered what could possibly be so important that he’d invite me in. I’d never heard of Soval being more than the bare minimum of civil to...well, to anyone, really. Why was I suddenly an exception? Soval took a seat on the sofa and gestured for me to do the same. Giving him a small smile, I sat and clasped my hands nervously in my lap.

“Are you content with your occupation aboard Enterprise?” The question caught me off guard. What was he getting at?

“I have no reason to complain, sir.” I couldn’t hide the confusion in my voice, but Soval didn’t seem to be offering any explanation for his odd behavior. “Ambassador, forgive me, but is everything alright?”

The Vulcan sighed heavily and straightened in his seat.

“Yes, Ensign. Although it is I who should be apologizing. I’m afraid that I haven’t had much experience with human minuscule speaking.” It took me a long moment to understand what he meant.

“Small talk?” At a nod of confirmation from Soval, I felt a bit more at ease. He was trying. I had no idea why, but he was trying. “Your efforts are appreciated, but I have to ask. What’s going on?”

“I’m not accustomed to having conversations like this. I would like to...get to know you. I believe that is the correct phrase,” he stated quietly, fiddling with one of his sleeves.

“I would be honored to, sir.”

“You may call me Soval if we are to become familiar with one another. There is no need to be so formal when we speak privately.” It was an unprecedented offer from a man like him - one that I intended to take advantage of.

--

That day, I made it clear that the same level of familiarity was more than welcome from him, but Soval never once uttered my name. As our mission continued with our Vulcan guest aboard, that became something of a private game of ours. I wanted desperately to hear him say my name, and Soval seemed determined to address me by anything but that. Call it my insatiable human curiosity, but I wanted to hear how it sounded when the syllables fell from his lips for the first time. Would he say it quickly - as sharp as a command? Or would he draw it out - let his tongue caress each sound as gently as a lover’s would?

I mulled the question over in the empty mess hall one night after a long shift, nursing a cup of tea and letting my gaze wander the stars as my thoughts did the same. Of all the silly things to ponder during a mission like ours, it felt ridiculous to be wondering about something as insignificant as a single word.

The warmth of the tea as it slid down my throat was comforting like this seat I usually chose.

“Turbulent thoughts?” Turning my head, I saw Travis smiling as he walked over to my table. “You seemed lightyears away.”

“You could say that,” I answered setting my cup down. Travis took a seat across from me and gave me an expectant look. “Just wondering about the intricacies of inter-species communication.”

“Ah, I see. Anything to do with a certain pointy-eared passenger?” My eyes darted up to meet Travis’s, and he was already giving me an amused look. “What? It’s not like it’s a secret that the two of you are interested in each other.”

“Woah, slow down, Mayweather. First, it is absolutely a secret that I’m interested in him. If he ever found out, he’d probably stop talking to me altogether.” The pilot let out a little laugh and shook his head.

“You know, the two of you are really smart, but you still can’t see what’s right in front of you. Compared to the way he behaves around everyone else, that Vulcan is practically mooning after you like a lost puppy.” Travis sounded as though that should be obvious. “He spends free time with you, he engages you in debates - hell, he even teases you.”

At that last observation, I gave him a skeptical look. 

“I’m serious! Soval’s got it bad for you. As bad as a Vulcan can, anyway. Why don’t you go talk to him? I’m sure he’d be happy to entertain such a pretty visitor,” Travis suggested with a playful little wink.

“At this time of night? There’s no way he’d still be awake.” As I lifted my cup to my lips, the door to the mess hall opened, and Travis leaned a little closer.

“Well, speak of the devil,” he murmured, and a mischievous gleam flashed through his eyes. Whatever he was about to do, I couldn’t stop him. “Ambassador Soval, we were just talking about you.”

Barely managing not to choke on my tea, I swallowed nervously even as Travis stood and Soval approached.

“Oh? Is this true, Ensign?” The Vulcan asked stopping beside me with one arched brow. Travis slipped quietly away, leaving me to face the music, but he gave me a not-so-subtle thumbs up on his way out.

“It is, actually,” I answered gesturing to the now-vacant seat across from me. With a polite nod, the Ambassador sat and let his gaze skim over my face. “We were just debating whether you’d still be awake or not - a question that you’ve just answered for us.”

“While I am glad to have been of use, may I ask what circumstances brought about such a specific topic of conversation?” If Soval hadn’t been Vulcan, I’d have expected a teasing smile to accompany his question. As it was, I gave a rather sheepish one of my own and looked intently at my cup as I answered. I felt as though he’d read me like a book if I kept looking at him.

“I had some trouble sleeping and came here. When Ensign Mayweather found me, he said I should go talk to you.” It wasn’t a lie, but it also wasn’t all of the truth. “I reminded him that you would most likely already be asleep, and that your rest shouldn’t be disturbed for a triviality.”

“It is true that most nights I would indeed be asleep, but tonight I share in your own difficulty. For the record, even if that were not the case, I would always welcome your presence. I find your companionship to be enlightening...and pleasing.” Leaning forward, Soval tilted my chin up so I was looking into his eyes. “You are not a triviality to me.”

I wasn’t? Surely he was just saying that to be polite.

“Nor are you to me,” I responded with a small smile. What an understatement. If he knew how much I cared for him and how unprofessional my feelings for him had become, Soval would likely be leaving now instead of shifting his fingers from their place under my chin to lightly gripping my forearm near my wrist. “So...what keeps the great Soval of Vulcan awake tonight?”

“I was unable to properly focus on my nightly meditation. Such an occurrence is rare for me, but it is usually an indication that I need to act on whatever is distracting me,” he explained, and I nodded my head in understanding. I definitely knew how a busy mind felt. “In fact, I went to your quarters to seek your advice, but you were obviously not there.”

“My apologies. If I’d known, I’d have stayed put. I’d be happy to help if you still want my advice,” I offered placing my hand gently over his.

“I would, thank you. This is a rather personal matter, and I trust that you’ll be discreet as always,” Soval said rather pointedly. I agreed readily, and he took a deep breath. If I didn’t know any better, I would have guessed that he was nervous. “I have very little experience in the area of romance, and I thought that I should ask someone with more expertise than myself.”

“I’m afraid I don’t have very much experience in that area myself, but I’ll do my best.”

“During the course of our voyage, I have come to realize that I hold a member of the Enterprise crew in rather high regard. She is highly intelligent, logical, and quite aesthetically pleasing. I find contentment when I socialize with her, and my thoughts drift to her when I am alone.” At Soval’s description, I could tell he really had fallen head over heels for whoever it was that he was describing. My stomach gave an unpleasant, jealous little flip, and I schooled my expression. If she would make him happy, then I would be glad for him, no matter how much I wished I was in her place. Based on his description, it sounded as though he was talking about T’Pol. After all, she was everything he’d said and more. “My feelings are not a problem, but I am having difficulty broaching the subject with her. That is why I sought your advice.”

“I see. Well, the way I see it, you have a few different options. If you prefer a more subtle approach, then you could always try to show her by spending more time with her and gradually letting her catch on,” I suggested, but he shook his head.

“I have already tried a subtle approach, but I do not believe she has noticed. Perhaps I was a bit too subtle,” he mused. “Maybe a more direct method?”

“In that case, you could try telling her what you just told me about your feelings for her. Surely that would convey what you want to.” At that, his brow furrowed slightly.

“Would that not be too forward?”

“Personally, I wouldn’t think so, but I have no idea how a Vulcan like T’Pol would react–”

“T’Pol? What does the Sub-Commander have to do with this?”

“She...is the one you were talking about...isn’t she?” A look of comprehension flitted over his features and he let out a sigh.

“As I surmised, my attempts have been too subtle,” Soval muttered. Who else could he have been talking about? A word floated off his tongue - one that took a moment for me to process because I’d never heard it from him before. Its syllables were laced with sentiment and strung delicately together until its whole was formed with care. Gradually, then all at once it registered to me that he’d said my name. He hadn’t called me Ensign, he called me by my name.

I’d never heard anything quite so beautiful.

“Soval, if you weren’t talking about T’Pol, then who...?” Whether from the shock of him finally saying my name or from the new, very potent hope I felt, my voice shook.

“Someone that I have no right to admire the way I do,” the Ambassador said standing and turning to face the window where the stars whizzed by. He clasped his hands in front of him and spoke. “I am nearly a century and a quarter old and you have not yet lived for three decades. It would be illogical to assume you could feel the same, no matter what I have sensed or inferred from your behavior.”

After a moment’s stunned silence, I got to my feet and moved to his side of the table. Coaxing him gently into turning around, I placed one hand over his and raised the other to cup his cheek.

“You forget, humans aren’t always logical. When it comes to affection, especially of the romantic type, we seldom are.” Taking a slow breath, Soval closed his eyes and leaned into my touch. “I’m afraid I have no idea what being romantically involved with a Vulcan entails, much less an Ambassador, but I’m a quick study.”

“I am also in unfamiliar territory. I do not know what it is to be a human’s mate, but for you, I am willing to learn,” he murmured opening his eyes again and fixing me with an inquisitive look. “What was it that kept you awake tonight?”

A smile stretched my lips at the nearly-forgotten thought of sleep. There were more pressing matters to attend to than my bed.

“I haven’t decided if I’m going yet.” I figured a diplomatic answer would be less inflammatory than telling him to sling his hook elsewhere. It was all I could do to keep from rolling my eyes at the way he leaned in a little closer.

“Well, I would be most gratified to see you there,” he said before finally leaving me in peace to finish my food. No sooner had I let out a sigh of relief than I was joined at my table by a familiar, welcome face.

“Are you alright, my dear?” Garak asked moving his chair closer to mine. “I thought that posturing fool would never leave.”

An involuntary huff of laughter gusted out of me before I could stop it.

“I’m fine, Garak, I promise. He does bluster quite profusely, doesn’t he?” I mused taking a sip of my drink.

“Yes. The pompous idiot. What makes him think he has the right to bother you of all people?” He grumbled, looking decidedly irritated. The Cardassian slid his chair just a little bit closer to me, and I was struck by a thought I’d only considered a few times before.

“Wait a minute. Garak, are you jealous?” The Cardassian’s eyes widened as they met mine.

“I don’t know what you mean. What reason would I have to be jealous of Dukat?” He asked shifting in his seat, but he’d already told me enough by his deflection. 

“Well, he does tend to seek me out for his flirtations despite the fact that you’ve been doing the same for months,” I answered as confidently as my inference would allow. Garak’s eyes darted away from mine and he let out a quiet laugh. “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”

“Ridiculous,” he scoffed.

“Fear not, Doctor. I shall dote on her and make sure she doesn’t lift a finger.” It was no secret aboard the Enterprise that the Captain and I were sweet on each other. Since the moment I responded to one of his literary quips on the bridge with one of my own, the two of us had struck up quite a friendship. We’d been careful never to cross that delicate boundary between friends and something more, but it was obvious, even to us, that we’d be well-suited to each other should we pursue such a change in relationship dynamics.

When I’d been injured on an away mission and required surgery for a torn labrum, Jean-Luc had promised he’d be there when I returned to the land of the living - a promise which he’d just kept. From the sounds of things, he’d also apparently volunteered to take charge of my medical care during my convalescence.

Forcing my eyes back open, I felt a bit more coherent as one of the nurses helped me into a standing position. I was a bit unsteady on my feet, and there was a dull ache in my hip. A strong arm wrapped around my waist pulling me carefully to lean against a sturdy body. When I turned to thank whoever had taken mercy on me, I was met with a gentle smile from the Captain.

“Thank you, sir,” I murmured in a voice rough from unconsciousness and disuse.

“Let’s get you back to your quarters,” he replied, and slowly we began to make our way to the turbolift. “Beverly said you’d be able to walk a little steadier in the coming days, but for now, you’ll have to try and take it easy. No sudden movements or overtaxing yourself, which I shall see to personally.”

“Ah, thank you, Nurse Picard,” I teased, and the Captain let out a quiet laugh. “I think I can manage once we get to my quarters. You’ll be free to go, I promise.”

“I beg your pardon?” He sounded genuinely confused as the lift started moving. Heat rose to my cheeks as his eyes met mine questioningly at close proximity.

“Well, you are the Captain of the Federation’s flagship. Surely you have more important things to do than look after an invalid,” I said trying to keep my tone light and full of levity.

“Lieutenant, don’t you know by now that my first duty is to my ship and my crew, which you are a part of. Are you suggesting that I would abandon a member of my crew when she is in need of assistance?” Jean-Luc asked in a tone that sounded just serious enough that my eyes widened.

“No, of course not, sir–”

“Good. That settles that, then,” he interjected, and placing a small kiss on my cheek, the Captain stole the last of the words from my throat before they could even begin to form. The rest of the way to my quarters, we walked in silence with a question hanging between us. What would we do about this...thing between us? It wasn’t a new question, but now...now it felt different. We’d walked a tight balance between professionalism and closeness, but somehow that had shifted.

Once he’d helped me settle into my bed, Jean-Luc sat beside me and grasped one of my hands, lacing our fingers together as though it was the most natural thing in the world. And perhaps it was.

“Are you alright?” I asked with a small smile, and a bemused chuckle tripped from between his lips.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that? You did just come out of surgery, you know,” he murmured, but we both knew that he would have answered if he truly was fine. A moment’s silence passed between us before he looked down and let out a quiet sigh. “I never can hide anything from you, can I? I...When Commander Riker called for you to be beamed to Sick Bay for emergency medical care, I...”

He drew a deep breath and cleared his throat as his fingers fiddled idly with mine.

“I know it is our duty as Starfleet officers to be prepared to give our lives if necessary, but...that didn’t stop me from fearing the worst,” he stated as he glanced into my eyes to gauge my reaction. “The thought of...of losing you...”

“You didn’t lose me,” I replied quietly as I sat up in bed and covered our joined hands with my free one. “And if I have my way, you never will.”

Jean-Luc breathed my name with such feeling that it stole my breath away.

“I realize that you and I have been close for some time now, but...I wonder...” he licked his lips nervously before continuing. “Have I completely deluded myself, or is there a chance however remote that you could feel the same as I?”