Chapter Text
The Cerritos arrived to Earth on Delta shift, hours ahead of schedule. Lieutenant Commander Mariner had control of the bridge on Delta shift. She wasn't supposed to be the one to initiate contact with proper Starfleet.
She sent a runner to get Captain Ransom so he could be the one to take them home. His command of the ship was still new enough that his presence had to be reinforced. The changeover mattered more than adhering to the shift schedule. She could make that much of a judgement call on her own.
Ransom swaggered onto his bridge, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. He'd been waiting for Mariner's call. "How do I look?"
"Very captainly," Mariner said. It was the highest praise that she could offer up.
"I need to officiate a wedding," Ransom said. It was a dazzling non sequitur, probably a result of his interrupted sleep. It was good to get out of his system when he was surrounded by flunkies and friends. She could be the brunt of his joke.
"You've been a captain for about five seconds," Mariner said. "You'll get a chance someday."
There was an outside chance that she would be able to give him that chance. She had some kind of undefined relationship going with Boimler. She was his best bet.
"Holding you to that," he said with a wink. She was one of his few officers in a relationship, not yet committed enough to plausibly forego that kind of ceremony. She also has no idea what kind of relationship that she was in. Ransom didn't seem to care about that fact. Neither did Boimler, for that matter. Mariner had a lot of time to think about it, Things would work out or not.
Once the captain was on the bridge, the third-in-command was free to get a little bit of sleep. Ship time was more or less synchronized with Starfleet Headquarters. Mariner had been on Delta shift for long enough that she needed to recalibrate to match up.
She managed to successfully navigate back to her quarters without any side journeys. Her bed was occupied by her lover/best friend/partner in crime. Lieutenant Boimler was sleeping soundly. It wasn't a surprise to see him in her quarters. They had to come up with a better label for their relationship.
They finally were going to have enough downtime to address it. The "what are we?" conversation had been looking over the horizon and now the sun was dawning over Earth and there was nowhere else to hide.
Mariner was technically over Boimler in the ship hierarchy. It was working for them.
Mariner stripped off the outer layer of her uniform, letting it fall to the floor next to where Boimler had dropped his own. That was as much energy as she could muster.
She curled around Boimler, holding him loosely. It was more or less how they always slept together, when their schedules allowed for it. They didn't get enough waking hours together, so she'd take what sleeping connection she could get.
"Are we there yet?" Boimler said through his half-sleep.
"Not yet," Mariner said. It was still true as far as she knew. She kissed his neck, physical affection seeming to be back on the table. She ran her fingertips across his cheekbones, then over his eyelids, "Sleep now."
It wasn't an order, not that she even had the right to give him one as far as Starfleet was concerned. In emergency situations, she absolutely could. He didn't report directly to her; there were no issues down the formal chain of command. In the quiet space of their quarters, what she said was all but law.
She didn't entirely fall asleep, just listened to his breathing even out and let hers follow. Resting was almost as good as sleep. She'd learned that a long time ago, especially at times like this when she needed to change how she was going to sleep. It was going to be cut short whenever alpha shift began.
When Boimler's alarm went off, she pushed her fist into her eyes, blocking out the dim light that was automatically summoned. She hasn't done enough to reset her sleep cycle. All she wanted to do was stay in bed.
He pulled her closer to him, hands on her hips. She moved her hands to his shoulders. "We don't work today."
"Shore leave," she agreed, sleepily kissing approximately his lips. It felt more like an unshaven cheek. Touch was touch, skin was skin. "We still have to get up."
"We have weird fights," he said.
She wouldn't have considered this to have been a fight. It was hardly a disagreement. "We're weird people. No sense comparing ourselves to normal people.
"Too weird?" he said.
"Not for each other." They weren't necessarily soulmates, not a Spock and Kirk finding one another in all universes.
His grip on her hips tightened. "Sit on my face." He was going from impulse to warp six.
"We've got breakfast plans," she reminded him. They had a full day ahead of them, packed with other people. There was a high chance that this was going to be their only moment alone for the foreseeable future.
"I know what I want to eat," he whined.
"Fuck," she said softly, an exhale in the quiet space of the bed that she wanted to always share with him.
That little plea shouldn't have been enough to knock her over the edge. It made her want him. She wanted to make him happy, and at the time he would be happiest serving her.
She started to shimmy out of her civvies, made easier when he let go of her to roll onto his back. He watched her disrobe, but didn't comment or interfere like he sometimes like to. This was about something else.
He stayed completely dressed in his own sleep clothes. She knelt over him, calves bracketing her face. She wasn't quite lined up yet. She wanted to see his face before she lowered herself down.
He had his hands on her thighs, expectantly waiting. "Please?" he said softly. He wasn't begging, just reiterating his desire. It was really a favor to him.
She ran hot at that. This was something that she wanted, nearly needed, and all that he was asking was that he be the one to give it to her.
She moved into position, feeling him immediately get to work. He knew her well, especially how to coax every bit of pleasure out of her with just his mouth. He wanted this, in this moment, more than anything else that she could give him.
She settled her weight on him, trying not to crush him. He didn't seem to mind the risk. He was diligent and smart, good at following directions and exceeding him. Everything that made him a good Starfleet officer had prepared him for this moment in her bed.
She tried to push away the thought that had had considered how to please his other superiors like this. She wanted it to be something special for just her and him. It was just about whatever dynamics they'd twisted together over the years.
It got overwhelming with too much stimulation, especially after he'd gotten her to climax. She carefully lifted herself from his face, sitting on his chest so she was still crushing the breath out of him. Her legs were shaking too much to stand with any kind of dignity. She rolled off of him instead, curling into his side. He stroked her back with his own steady hand.
"What can I do for you?" she said, shamed at her own lack of stamina. It betrayed her sleep deficit.
"You already did," he gasped.
She turned her head to observe the wet spot on his pants. He wasn't even hard. "Untouched?" she said, impressed by the both of them
"Afraid so," he said.
"Nothing to be afraid of, Lieutenant," Mariner said. "You liked it that much?"
"Always do. I'm selfish in bed, you know that," he said.
"That isn't true," she said. They still needed to have the defining talk about who they were to one another.
"Pretty sure I get more out of some of this than you," he said. It was an ongoing argument. Neither could believe that they were as compatible as they were. Both assumed the other was making compromises.
"Not possible," Mariner said,more honestly than she liked. It was a bit much for her, even for pillow talk. "I was hoping you could fuck me later."
"I could," he said. "You could fuck me..."
"Me first," she said without thinking. She wasn't sure if it was her turn just what she wanted. "I might not be able to have all my supplies on hand if we get a chance alone."
"We'll get a chance," he said.
She tried to believe him. "We need to clean up, we have breakfast plans."
"I ate," he grinned. He wasn't even smug, but not half as much as Mariner was.
"Yeah, you did." She stumbled out of bed to use the sonic shower and change into proper off-duty clothes. She wouldn't be caught dead in her uniform until she was back on shift. When she got out of the refresher, they shared a lazy set of kisses. He still tasted like her. They pulled apart to get dressed. "You need to wash your face."
Boimler grumbled and did so. Mariner pulled on her cleanest off duty clothes.
Boimler frowned, half dressed with his communicator in hand. "Is this your communicator?"
"Maybe," she said.
Boimler gripped it tightly. "You threw it at my uniform."
"It flew on its own," she said.
"That'd be better than wedding rings," he said.
"What?" she said.
"Swapping communicators," Boimler said. "Symbolize becoming one or something."
"I like that," she said. Still not the actual conversation, but they were getting close. It was bad that it had followed their sexual encounter for the morning. It was worse that they were skipping so many steps ahead. It felt like it could be a goodbye.
"Noted."