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It's a knee landing on his hip that stirs him from his sleep.
The bed is soft - too soft - and his company is taking up all the space. Again.
Kelrec has heard of love stories where two people end up in the same bed, wake up tangled and realise that they have unconsciously drifted towards each other, somehow acting on feelings they wouldn't otherwise dare.
This is obviously not such a situation.
Because he shares bed with his colleague - Chancellor Nahla Ake - which means that a) he harbors no such unknown feelings and b) he sleeps straight like a stick, and she like a star fish with the movements of a toddler.
A few hours of trying to sleep, and he's exhausted.
- -
It had, like many times before in Starfleet's history, started with an odd malfunction leaving his rooms uninhabitable. First of cold, then of heat and then… of flooding. He might have initially insinuated shenanigans, and she had agreed that it was a possibility. However, their shared investigations had not given any evidence to this.
It was just an ordinary, extraordinary Starfleet malfunction.
And so, just a few hours ago, he was in her room debriefing after another workday (since his, and now most of the War College, was unusable) when the whole place simply shut down; the saucer and the camp grounds.
Basic life support still worked on the saucer, her place was still dry but the lights went out and the doors wouldn't open.
After having established comms with the bridge and it was obvious that they were in no state of peril, mortal danger or anywhere close to starving for a few days they had quickly been moved down in priorities. The main focus had been on the campus grounds where the malfunctions fluctuated and made the whole place unpredictable.
So here they were. Or well, here he was.
She was sound asleep, her body in an odd shape but still determined to poke at him. Just like she always did.
-
Nahla Ake - two apples high and with frizzy blonde hair absolutely not in a regulation hairdo - had initially been an annoyance to him. Walking over the school without her shoes, drinking from that leftover cup, talking about bringing children to important negotiations, calling his cynicism adorable… It had been a bit much.
To add to it all, she seemed completely confident in herself. She needed no approval from him, or the Admiral, for the things she said or how she presented herself.
Kelrec had tried to make the Admiral see reason, but to no avail. If Kelrec is being honest it had felt as if the Admiral already from the beginning had been leaning more towards Ake’s suggestion. It’s as if they’re both dreamers and he had to be the boring adult.
But Kelrec doesn’t like the unknown, doesn’t trust chaos. He grew up in chaos, in a world with only harmful chaos. So he learned control and order - and brought these things to where they were needed.
And here she stepped in, without shoes, called him adorable (and cranky), suggested a plan based on hope and then slapped him as she sassed away from him.
And yet, it had all worked. Of course it worked. Not exactly like she had planned - if she even had planned (by now he has started to think that she acts mainly on vision, hope and winging it) - but it had worked. He’d watched her, during that first meeting with the Betazoids. At first a bit annoyed; she had proposed this whole charade yet she was nervous! How could she put them in this situation, if she herself wasn’t sure of this? Yet, quite quickly, his resentment had grown into admiration. Doing something you believed in, and doing it scared, was still bravery.
And he could admire bravery.
And there had been the situation with the Furies, and the horrors of the Miyazaki. He’d agreed with her stance against taking in Nus Braka, only to then have them both overruled by the hand given them as the body of Tomov came floating on their screen.
So somewhere during it all, or maybe even from the start - an odd respect for her had grown within him. She didn’t want to fight him, and his ideas. She wanted to work with him, but from her standpoint - so different from his.
Maybe it wasn't that she annoyed him exactly. More disturbed him, and the way he viewed the world.
-
Next to him, she stirs.
“You awake?” Her low voice is soft in the dimly lit room.
“Something about your limbs poking at me did have that consequence, yes,” he answers, noticing that his voice too matches the low volume of hers.
“Ah. Personal space. Not my strongest forte.”
He catches himself chuckling. Remembers that first meeting and how she had already then lightly punched him as she left him there standing, confused.
He remembers her in the turbolift, her head poking at his leg and her face looking up at him.
At the sound of him, she moves around, limbs disappearing but then her face is suddenly close to his. He can sense her focus on him, making the right side of his body almost tingle, while he himself is still looking at the ceiling.
She doesn't say anything, and neither does he. He can't really figure her out.
-
Their evening had been amicable.
Now and then they got a new report from the bridge, and they had their worries there for a while before all their students were accounted for, and the Doctor had reported from the infirmary about the status of the few who had been mildly injured in the chaos.
He’d heard her ask about that boy, Mir, specifically. He still doesn’t know their whole story but he doesn’t judge a person who cares about someone else. Sure, he might’ve initially wondered if she wasn’t cutting the boy a bit much slack, but from what he has observed has given him the impression that she seems to know what she is doing. And, she is 352 years older than him and that does give her a certain advantage in interpersonal relationships. He has to give her that.
She'd managed to produce something edible - mainly crackers and some cheese that she apparently had stacked in her rooms. They had emergency rations should they need them and he was pleased to see that she did indeed follow the protocol of having her field equipment stored for easy access - contained in it was the field stove, which they might have to use the next day.
Chancellor Ake lit some candles once the sun began to set, and eventually they found themselves on the sofa. He, sitting up reading some reports on a padd and she… laying across the sofa, her head next to his legs while reading a book.
It wasn't until now, laying there with her next to him, that he reflected on her always seeming to prefer to be so damn close.
-
The flickering light of a battery driven candle doesn't do more than cast more shadows and it's not much of her facial features that he can make out in the dark, as he turns his head towards her.
But she's near. And he can sense a bit of surprise from her at his move.
“Why do you always stay so close?” His question seems to surprise her, he can hear her intake of breath.
“To you?” She asks, and he can hear her smile.
“I have no idea if you invade others' personal space, so I guess - yes, to me.” He hasn't intended to give any meaning to this conversation, but her face is so close and he can see her face better now. Her eyes seem to lock with his, and he finds his breathing become uneven. His heart is beating in his chest, and he hopes she can't hear it.
It's as if it dawns upon him that he is laying in bed with not just a colleague, but very much a woman who has since the day they've met tilted his world on its axis.
And he still can't really figure out if it's a bad thing, or a welcome one.
-
Getting to bed had been a pretty easy maneuver. They are both trained officers, albeit in different times, but soldiers are soldiers.
They’d concluded that the smartest move was to share the bed - she claimed she slept best on the soft bed and he was too tall for her chaise. And depending on how tomorrow went, they might both need to be rested.
No smart soldier sleeps poorly if avoidable, and - as much as he might argue on her overall view of things - she still knows basic training. And life skills.
He changed in the bathroom, she in her bedroom and then she went to use the bathroom as he climbed into bed.
She shortly joined him - with zero finesse making the whole bed jump as she found a comfortable spot. He tried not to voice his displeasure.
The bed was too soft, but seemed perfect to her. Next to him, she let out a content sigh.
“Well good night then, Chancellor,” he curtly said. He was rewarded with a chuckle.
“You may call me Nahla,” and suddenly she was near - her eyes sparkling of that mischief she seemed to always keep near. “We’re sharing a bed, after all,” she concluded before she giggled and turned away from him, slowly falling asleep and… spreading out. Poking at him, even in her unconscious state.
And so, sleep had evaded him since she had not.
-
She doesn't reply to his question, but ducks her head and snuggles closer, her face suddenly resting on his shoulder. She's like a cat seeking comfort - both cute yet also strange in its choice of resting place.
Her hair tickles his chin, the scent of her engulfing him.
“I guess… I haven't thought much about it.” She finally says, her breath against his biceps through the fabric of his regulation t-shirt. “I'm old Zeeren, and some social rules just get lost by time. And I… I like your personal space.”
He doesn't even try to stop the small smile he feels forming, but finds the increased beating of his heart a bit unsettling.
“You're welcome,” is all he manages as he suddenly has to stop an impulse to run his hand over her arm, tucked next to him.
Slowly, she relaxes even more, sinking down in the mattress and her face comes to rest against his shoulder as her breathing slows again. He can feel himself drifting off too, warmth suddenly spreading through his body, making him sleepy. But just as he is about to fall asleep, thinking the conversation is over for tonight, she speaks again.
“And you're welcome in mine too,” her low, sleepy voice says.
And Zeeren's eyes shoot open as his heart skips a beat.
-
Is she pretty? He has caught himself trying to figure out what he thinks about her looks on more than one occasion. In a way, yes she is. Is she cute? In a sense, yes.
But pretty and cute has never really been things he wants in women. And not like he wants - or wants to want - this creature who has been assigned as his colleague.
But yes, he has reflected on these things.
He thinks she can be stunning and impressive, just as she can be flimsy and chaotic. She stands on her bridge making jokes with her second-in-command, only to moments later face Furies with the determination of a Captain set on saving her people. She talks to him about trust, works towards gaining his while he still questioned her allegiance to the fleet.
Most of all, and to sum it up, she is unsettling.
She walks through life so differently than him. Is this what happens to people after 400 years?
Maybe. But honestly - he thinks this is just her personality. No matter the reasons, this is who she is. Small, intense, out of the box and often barefoot - she just is.
And what does he himself feel about all this?
Zeeren hasn't given it much thought.
-
Until now.
Until frizzy, curly hair against his chin and a small hand that somehow has snuck up and lays on his chest. Once again, she reminds him of a cat with her indifferent boldness.
He feels fondness, he concludes. It's a nice feeling to feel for someone.
He can add that to the list of his other feelings; annoyance, disturbance and… fondness.
The world is so still and silent around them, and she seems asleep by now. Her heavy breathing and the softness of her drags him slowly in and he finds himself drifting away and into whatever it is her presence offers him.
Yet he can't let go of that last thing she said, of being allowed into her personal space.
Because he yet doesn't feel ready to add want to the list of feelings. Wanting to take her hand, wanting to kiss her fingers, wanting to hear whatever sound she makes… no, that would make this whole thing inappropriate. And he is not an inappropriate man.
At least that's what he tries to tell himself this, while his body is almost aching at the space where her hands lay.
-
He must’ve fallen asleep eventually, since he now wakes. The sun is up, and she is not in the bed anymore.
It feels oddly empty. He tries not to dwell on it.
He tries not to dwell at all on the previous night.
Instead, he gets up and wraps a robe around him. She had left it for him yesterday. Apparently amongst her trinkets and stuff were some clothes too big for her. She called it the lost and found, but he had his doubts.
Realizing that tea is probably out of the question he goes to get his clothes, neatly folded on the chair next to the bed.
"Bathroom's free,” she states as she suddenly appears in the vast room. Ake is still in her pajamas, and she obviously didn't brush her hair while doing her morning routine.
Zeeren sighs, shakes his head but can't help but to give her a small smile.
Yet he doesn't say anything as he makes his way to pass her, still a bit unsettled after the night. Maybe she’s picking it up somehow, because as he leaves the room she pats his arm, gives him a smile before she looks away and starts making the bed.
If he didn’t know better he’d say she might’ve been blushing.
Luckily, he knows better.
-
To his surprise, there is tea. Not as he would’ve prepared it, but given their circumstances he accepts.
“I figured,” she shrugs and gives him a small smile, “it’s at least better than nothing.”
He says a thank you and sits down, now fully dressed.
It's a contrast to her pajamas, and he does feel a bit… overdressed, as he reaches for his cup.
He is reminded of the first time he got her tea. Of her telling him she needed the kids to believe in her, and in him. Her disappointment in his actions of breaking into their security to get the footage for their latest prank.
He hadn’t yet learned to work with her. Still then, he was working against her.
And to add to it, she had been playing him all along. There he sat, thinking he had the upper hand. While she had already set the plan in motion to humiliate him. With empathy.
And he had yielded. Probably not for the last time, he muses.
Between them is a plate of the same crackers as yesterday. She wrinkles her nose, gives him a shrug as to say that it is what it is.
The tea is hardly the best he has ever had, but it’s tea.
It’s tea, in a quiet corner of the galaxy where the only problem right now is that he is stuck with his colleague in her quarters (and she is still in her pajamas), while everyone he is supposed to take care of are healthy and fine outside.
He should be able to relax. But maybe he has forgotten how to.
Or maybe it’s another sort of unrest, he can’t help but to muse with a sinking feeling in his stomach, as he watches her squinting at her book. Sunlight catches in her hair, making it look even more frizzy and unkempt than it usually is - like a halo of energy.
He notices her glasses on the table, and hands them to her. Her happy smile, matched by her eyes and the jolt that goes through his body as her fingers touch his when she takes the glasses from him tells him that yes, this is indeed something else.
With a sigh, he takes his tea and tries to focus his thoughts elsewhere.
To say that he fails is an understatement.
-
Zeeren Kelrec isn’t a man to dwell much on his own emotions and feelings.
Not that he doesn’t have them - he would still be a 20-year old fool if he thought so. Back then, emotions were too dangerous and he too young to handle them. By now, he has simply accepted that he just never learned to deal with them.
So usually, he just lets them come and go.
However, being stuck in the same rooms for now over a day with the person who seems to stir a few feelings in him does make it hard to escape them. And there really isn’t much to keep his mind occupied. He has read the reports he had left, and the padd is losing power and they can’t access the ship's computer. He wonders if she has a book somewhere about warfare that he might enjoy.
His trail of thought is intercepted by her making an appearance in the living room. It’s now afternoon, the sun is about to set and she has actually changed out of her pajamas. Nahla is now wearing those white clothes that he… likes.
And since when does he call her Nahla? Even to himself?
“Oh, turn that frown upside down,” she calls to him as she makes her way through the room.
“I… was not aware I was frowning,” he simply states.
“You were. Luckily for you, I have the best way to make us both happy,” she chimes and… turns on some music. “I still have batteries left in this old machine. I try to remember to charge them now and then, and lucky for us - I have!”
He gives her a confused smile.
“Come, dance!” She says. At this, he can’t stop a chuckle from escaping.
“Chancellor… Nahla,” he corrects to tries, “I think you already know my answer to this.” Her eyes glimmer and she winks.
“Suit yourself, grumpy,” she says and he can't help but to smile back, while shaking his head.
And then, of course, she starts to dance.
-
It’s stupid and silly, but she seems to enjoy herself and at first he feels a bit uncomfortable but soon his mind wanders.
He’s glad to see her happy. It doesn’t hurt anyone.
He remembers her not being happy. He remembers, once again, the Miyazaki. He remembers that slimy Nus Braka and how uncomfortable Zeeren had felt letting Nahla be alone with the man. He had tried not to think of it, instead focusing on her cadets still in his care on the bridge.
But he’d seen her, in small moments between the duties of the Captain, and how the presence of that vile man had shaken her. He wonders what he’d said to her, but never asked. There were still things that were private, as personal as they had slowly gotten.
And so, they had focused on what they could control. Helping Cadet Sadal and trying to figure out Nus’ true agenda. Even if they had inevitably failed, they had tried.
He sighs.
He had had to bury a cadet. Another one in a coma.
–
“Hey,” suddenly she is next to him, a warm presence bringing him back to, well almost, Earth. “Where did you go?”
“Memories,” he just says. Taking a breath, he clears his head and gives her a smile. Her hand comes to rest on his arm.
“Bad ones?”
“Yes. But… I don't want to dwell.”
She accepts his answer, and stays. The sun outside is lower now, and the room is lit by a warm glow. He can tell that she too is thinking, reflecting.
She nestles closer, resting her head on his shoulder. It’s comforting and warmth floods his heart. The music seems to play on the rays of sunshine through her colored windows.
He sighs, tired of himself and once again bringing them down. She was just having fun, and he just-
She looks up at him, her brown eyes giving him comfort. As if she understands his mood and turmoil.
He can’t help but to give her a small smile and is rewarded tenfold - as if his better mood brings her great joy.
And suddenly, he has what could be described as an impulse. Maybe he’s just tired of being lost in the horrors of life, and more in the mood of the joys of it.
Maybe, he is a little curious about this chaos, this positive chaos that she brings.
He looks at her, still smiling, but suddenly nervous. He hopes it doesn't show.
“Dance with me?,” he asks, before he can stop himself.
He is rewarded by a surprised look on her face.
“Kelrec?”
“I think you can call me Zeeren,” he offers, while rising and stretching out his hand.
She takes it. Firm fingers around his.
“I… didn’t think you danced.” He can hear her pleased surprise at his move.
He himself is still a little surprised at it.
Slowly, he leads her over the now proclaimed dance floor, making her follow him.
“Ah, but you’re wrong,” he can’t help but to tease her as he joins this silly shenanigan that she offers him by just being herself. “However, I prefer a bit more structured dance.” The hand that holds hers stretches out, the other resting on the low of her back. Hers is on his shoulder, dangerously close to the nape of his neck and he has to swallow.
It could be because she is much shorter than him, that her arm has to lean more on his body than his upper arm. But a treacherous thought that he doesn’t stop in time has him hoping it’s not the only reason. That maybe, maybe...
“Of course you do,” she teases, brown eyes glittering.
“See, chancellor,” he can’t help himself as they start to move, “I don’t mind this free spirited style of yours-” He is rewarded by a raised eyebrow and an amused smile, “but I remember you once said that maybe you were a bit more of a traditionalist than you know?” he jokes, thinking back to her speech that day with the Betazoids.
The music wraps around them, and slowly he begins to lead.
“Hmpf,” she states. “Hopefully not. But maybe there is a small middle where we could meet?” She smiles and raises an eyebrow.
“Only in the middle?” He mirrors her expression, and pulls her just a little closer as he steers them through the dance.
And for once, his actions seem to catch her a bit off balance. Her brown eyes give him a startled look.
“Ke- Zeeren?” She asks, curious, but not unfriendly.
He doesn't let go of her eyes, and sees them slowly grow darker, her breathing heavier as they both fall silent.
The music, a tune he doesn’t know but a beat he can navigate them through, plays through the air.
He shouldn't do this, he thinks. There's a million reasons against it, but only one for it: want.
He wants this. It's that simple, and equally complicated.
His body is responding to where they touch; his left hand fingers almost tingling where she rests her hand, his right equally aware of the curve of her back. Her body is close to his, and it sends heat through his nervous system.
Her eyes, so often filled with mischief and a sparkle, tells him something else now. They’re open, curious… deep. She's still very much an adventure, a challenge to his structured ways. But now she is less of a hummingbird around him, and more like the ancient mystery he sometimes has sensed.
He can feels his heart in his throat, an anticipation of sorts building. He leans down, and she seems to almost stretch towards him. There is hardly any space left between them, their faces mere centimeters apart
“You did invite me into your personal space, didn’t you?” He almost whispers, not wanting to disturb the moment. They slow down, but his heart beats faster.
“I did,” she says, her breath almost playing on his lips. They're close, inappropriately close and his fingers trail on the lower part of her back. He can see her chest rising and falling, and he knows it is equally mirrored in him.
They're at a stand-still, like two troops eyeing each other. And he is after all a man who has crossed borders before, if necessary.
He notices her biting her lower lip, while her eyes wander to his mouth. Is she too pondering their next move?
But he is not to be outmaneuvered. He gives her a last look, searching for her go-ahead - which is given to him in the form of glittering, curious eyes, a wrinkled nose and a smile - before he closes the distance between them.
A short moment of warmth, the promise of impact before their lips meet.
A small surprised noise greets him, as her soft lips touches his and sends and signal of fire through his body and he has to steady himself by grasping her waist, holding her against him.
Want rushes through him, like an ambush. He is lost in the onslaught of the physical intensity of the moment, of her body against his and her lips on his, finding their pace as pleasure rolls like waves from where they meet and through his body, lands at the lower part of his belly and becomes need.
It's like it's taken over him, this force, and he tugs at her waist, holds her against him. At her small gasp he dares a move to deepen their kiss and she lets him in.
She tastes of dry crackers and tea, and it’s heavenly in its simplicity.
Her hand comes down from his shoulder to rest on his chest, fingers spreading out as to both touch and ground. His heart beats steady against her palm, his breath heavy against hers.
He had aimed for a small kiss, a moment's touch of lips to somehow finalize the moment they’ve had.
He should’ve known better by now. He might’ve moved first, but she quickly claims him.
Her soft and inviting lips becomes wanting and demanding and her hands comes up to hold his head, holding him firmly close, stretches against him while she explores him. And he lets her, lets her in to taste him as he can taste her, while his hands move up her sides, creating noises of pleasure and enjoyment from her and he knows that he makes a rumbling sound amongst his heavy breathing.
His hands cups her face, his fingers tangling in her hair, and he can feel her fingers playing at his collar, touching the exposed skin on his throat, and he has to break free a little, find air and oxygen.
She places small kisses down his jaw and he kisses her hair and she comes to rest against his chest, his fingers still tangled in her blonde locks, holding her close. They are both breathing heavily.
Slowly, the world comes into colors around him.
“Nahla, I…” he starts, but has no idea how to finish. She turns, buries her head - forehead first - in his chest.
“I liked that,” she states in a tone daring to say the opposite. He smiles against her frizzy curls, gives it a small kiss.
“So did I.”
And now she looks up at him, smiling broadly.
“Good. Let’s do more of it,” she says with that mischievous look in her eyes.
He smiles back at her, leans in for another kiss and-
That’s exactly when everything comes back online.