1647 Hours
By Coral

Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Someone else owns them.

[bad prequel] [criticise] [read more rubbish]

Number One paused outside the Captain's quarters, her fingers hovering over the door chime. Summoning all her resolve, she hit it before she could chicken out and change her mind. Much as she wanted to ignore and forget about all that had happened in the early hours of the morning, she had found she couldn't. She'd spent most of her shift turning it over in her mind, worrying about how the Captain - how Chris - was. Dr Boyce had barred him for duty for today - she could only hope that he was feeling better now... and bore no hard feelings about their encounter.

Part of her secretly wished that he wouldn't remember it. She could live with that; if the only memory of the night was her's, and her's alone, and he would never remember.

They wouldn't have anything to forgive - they wouldn't have anything they needed to face up to. They could go on as they always did; friends, both wanting more, but neither wanting to make that move. In any other setting, Number One would have classed such behaviour as cowardly.

Here, however...

The doors slid open, and she heard Chris' call for her to enter. His voice was rough and low and sounded oddly muffled in the darkened quarters. She couldn't see him anywhere in the room - it seemed almost unnaturally deserted.

"Chris?" she called out, wondering what he was playing at.

"Through here," came the answering call, coming from the direction of the bedroom.

With a sigh of resignation, Number One pulled her uniform jacket down tightly, then stepped through, hoping to highest heaven he was in a presentable state.

He was. Lying on the bed, face down, the reason for the muffled voice apparant. She looked around, wondering what to do - fighting the urge to just turn and leave, get the hell away from this man.

"Chris...?"

"Have you come to laugh at me?" he demanded gruffly.

Number One perched on the bed and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Sit up and look at me, dammit. I won't talk to your back."

"Leave me alone, for god's sake. Or haven't I humiliated myself enough for your tastes yet?"

"Do I have to get Doctor Boyce in here to check you over?" she threatened, moving her hand. Now she was here, now that she was commited, Number One was taking no prisoners.

She got her reward - slowly, stiffly, Chris sat up, shooting her a resentful look before pressing a hand to his head and squeezing his eyes shut. She waited impatiently, worried that something was wrong.

"I have one hell of a hangover," Chris finally mumbled. He smiled ruefully, opening his eyes slowly to look at her. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"I came to see if you were alright, believe it or not," she answered curtly.

He regarded her coolly. "Did the good doctor send you? Because you can tell him I'm just fine."

Number One's eyes blazed. "No, damn you. I came because I cared. We're friends." She paused briefly, then lowered her voice aand added forcefully, "Remember?"

"If that's true - just do me a favour and leave," Chris said bitterly. "I want to be alone."

"That wasn't the impression I got last night," she said.

"I wasn't in my right mind, remember?" he shot back, echoing her own emphasis. "I was drunk. I said things and did things I shouldn't have said. And I owe you an apology. Just accept it and leave."

"I didn't come here just to get an apology. I wanted to make sure you were alright - and I don't just mean physically. If there's anything I can do..."

"I'm fine. Absolutely fine," Chris insisted bluntly.

"Don't give me that line, *Captain*," she said, laying just enough emphasis on the title to turn it into a mockery. "I know, and you know, that last night didn't come out of the blue. I'm not that blind, so stop patronising me!"

"I'm not pat-"

"Don't say it, Chris," she said, getting to her feet. "Either you tell me what the hell is going on - and what the hell we're going to do about it - or I am going to walk out that door, and I will not be coming back. Ever. Understood?" She turned as if to leave - praying that he would stop her.

Chris sprang to his feet, ignoring the protests of his thumping head, and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her round to face him. "You made me," he said. "Remember that." He kissed her, hard, holding her tightly. She could still have pulled away - but she didn't; she returned the kiss wholeheartedly.

His hands divesting her of her jacket, he asked, "You're not going to turn back now, are you?"

"Not if you're not," she returned with a grim smile, kicking her boots off into a corner, where they were rapidly joined by several other articles of clothing. She was determined now - this felt too right to stop it.

"I wasn't aware that black lace was Starfleet Regulation underwear..." Chris teased with a grin as he unclasped her bra, then took one of her tender nipples in his mouth, suckling gently.

"It's... not..." she moaned softly. "But I won't tell... if you don't..."

He paused briefly to say, "As long as I get to see it again," but she just laughed and caught his mouth with hers again, kissing him deeply, as she entangled a hand in his hair, holding his mouth to hers. His hands teased and stroked her pert breasts as her free hand wandered over his body... first caressing the curve of his buttocks, then tracing the outline of his broad shoulders, taking the time to savour each movement, each touch. His skin was warm to her touch, his hands warm and soft on her breast.

She broke the kiss, pulling him over to the bed with her. He lay down beside her, content for the moment just to hold her body against his as he ran his fingers over her stomach and down, his deft fingers teasing her into arching against his hand as she cried out softly. He kissed her fair, slim shoulders as she shivered with pleasure.

"Chris, I-" she began, but was interrupted by the whistle of the intercom.

"Boyce to Captain Pike."

"Shit," Number One muttered, and rolled over, burying her head in the pillow.

"Don't think you're getting off that easily," Pike mock-threatened, turning over and slapping the intercom.

"At this rate, we're not going to be getting off at all," she observed, pulling the blankets over her naked body and snuggling down into them.

"Pike here. What do you want, Phil?" he asked, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice as the throb of arousal coursed through his body.

"It's these specimens we have to transport to Gamma Delta Tripoli. Now, with any normal samples, I'd suggest keeping them in sickbay, but we can't maintain the correct environment in there without possibly triggering the virus they carry."

"And...?" Pike prompted as Number One sat up, a wicked grin on her face, and started running a hand over his back.

"We need an alternative. The only place big enough is the cargobay, but we'd have to take it out of commission..."

"And...?" the captain asked, squirming as his first officer started kissing the nape of his neck.

"And so I need your permission to do so," Boyce's irritated voice said.

"Oh, just agree and get him to shut up..." Number One whispered in Chris' ear before nibbling gently on same.

Pike snorted.

"Am I interrupting something, Chris?"

"Er - just some... some business that Number One..." He looked down at Number One and finished, "...has well in hand."

"Ah, okay. I'll - er - let you two finish, then. Contact me when you're ready to talk, okay?"

"Yes, *sir*. Pike out." He slapped the com channel closed with perhaps a little more force than was strictly necessary before turning his full attention back to his First Officer.

"Did I hear you say we have business to finish?" she said matter-of-factly.

"I think so, Number One. Care to proceed?"

She did.

=/\=End=/\=