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“Love?”
“No, it’s so sentimental.”
“Kitten?”
“I am not soft, nor am I cute.”
“Debatable under the right circumstances, but I digress. Cupcake?”
“How very…cloying. I hate it immediately.”
Jett tossed herself against her pillow in frustration, then rolled to her side to face Lura. “Come on, Lura, you've gotta work with me here. I’m trying to come up with something you’ll like.”
“I don’t see why I need a nickname at all. If you want to call me something endearing, call me Lura. I’ve practically killed others for daring to be so familiar.” Even in the diffused light of their bedroom, Jett could see the familiar look of bemused annoyance on her lover's face.
“It’s the human condition, baby. How am I supposed to address you in public so everyone will know you’re mine and I’m yours?” There had been a time when Jett had been sure she’d never have this again. Dinner dates and idle nights spent tangled in the sheets. She was too old and too broken to start over after everything she had been through. Lura has proved her wrong and continued to do so in just about every conversation they had. Gleefully and often with much sarcasm. Jett wasn’t about to let any opportunity pass to show how much she loved her.
Lura poked her gently in the ribs, and even that was enough to make Jett wince. “You may call me Lieutenant Commander in public, and in private I know of much better things you can do with your mouth to prove your affection.”
“Well, that’s just fucking hot.” Jett eased herself closer and let her hands drift along the crease of Lura’s hip. “And an excellent way to try to change the subject. It’s not going to work, though. Honey, maybe?”
Now it was Lura’s turn to groan in frustration. She closed her eyes for a moment, and Jett thought she might have drifted off. Then she spoke, more to the room itself than to Jett herself. “Par’Mach’kai.”
Jett raised an eyebrow. “Who shot who in what now?”
“It is an ancient Klingon term of endearment meant only for a lover. You may call me that if you wish. I find it… acceptable.” Lura practically growled the sentence, but a smile was threatening to quirk the corner of her mouth. “And only if I may do the same to you.”
“I’ll take it.” Jett grinned, leaning in and running the tip of her tongue along Lura’s collarbone, knowing it drove her crazy. “Now, why don’t you come over here and I’ll shut up and start trying to prove myself to you.’”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
The next morning dawned with a blue sky over the San Francisco Bay and the promise of another day rebuilding and restoring the legacy that Star Fleet Academy stood for.
Jett woke alone, but there was nothing out of the norm. Lura was often up by five and off to run the obstacle course before her first class convened shortly after eight. Once early in their courtship, she had attempted to keep up with Lura on the course, and the result had been three days in the infirmary. After that, it was a mutual decision that Jett should just sleep in for her own safety.
Her own morning routine was absurdly simple: shower, coffee and a piece of toast while she walked to her first class, perfecting the sardonic glare she gave the loitering students in the atrium, another coffee while she marked papers. Lunch crept up on her before she even knew it. While once she would have simply ignored it altogether, instead she decided to see if she could drag Lura away from her office hours and maybe persuade her to have lunch in their quarters. Food optional.
Whistling softly, she headed down the hallway and around the corner, stopping in the doorway to watch the Lieutenant Commander bark a reprimand at the two chagrined-looking students sitting in front of her. “While I admit spraying pheromones and releasing the Talaxian Furfly on the obstacle course while the war college is running drills was decidedly amusing… Commander Reno. What can I do for you?”
“I was going to head back to ours for some lunch. Wanted to see if you wanted to join me.” The implication in her words did not go unnoticed, nor had it been intended to. Jett was nothing if not honest, and judging by the student’s expressions of mild horror, she’d hit just the right level of trauma.
Lura raised an eyebrow. “I could eat. I’ll meet you there in ten minutes.”
“Excellent.” Jett grinned, turning to leave and spoke over her shoulder. “See you there, Parcheesi.”
Lura growled.
“Oh, I’m sorry, did I get that wrong?” Jett let her gaze flicker in Lura’s direction. “Sorry, Parmesan.”
A vein appeared in Lura’s forehead; a sign she was fighting either a headache or an attack of justifiable rage. Jett had been known to provoke both. Still, a smile threatened to ruin the stone image she normally maintained. “We will discuss this at home.”
“Gotcha.” Jett walked away and began to whistle softly again. “See you soon, my love.”
Totally worth it.