Hold Me, Stupid

Posted on Sat Aug 30th, 2014 @ 8:45am by Petty Officer 3rd Class Sehra Vahn & Lieutenant Commander Dylan Blake

1,955 words; about a 10 minute read

Mission: What Dreams May Come
Location: Dylan's Personal Quarters

ON:

Tonight.

It was ridiculous how overloaded a single word could become with emotion, anxiety and enough anticipation to almost classify as dread. A perfectly ordinary word, useful in so many contexts, especially if you wanted to designate a reasonably accurate period of time that preceded the current one you occupied without being too far removed. Tonight. Just a segment of today, parading as a singular entity when really a lifetime could stack up such a multitude that even sleeping away much of it couldn't reduce the significance of tonight on a person's fondest memories. A word full of promise and potential but undemanding in its expectations. Except this tonight.

This tonight was giving her a minor heart-attack.

If there was one thing Sehra understood intrinsically about herself, regardless of whatever details her memory refused to recall, it was that she was a woman who kept her word. When she said something, she meant it and dedicated a great deal of time, effort and energy into maintaining the integrity of her promises. She was gregarious, charming, enthusiastic and even perhaps a little chaotic at times but she was not fickle. If she made plans, she kept them.

She'd told Adriana...tonight.

So tonight it would be, the night on which she would broach the subject of physical intimacy with the man she was already calling her 'boyfriend' in the privacy of her own thoughts. So much of her was trying to claim that this wasn't a big deal, that this was not something that embarrassed or daunted her, except it was a big deal and she was incredibly daunted. Contemplating the outcome created a fluttering in her stomach that was reflected across her heartstrings, only her mind couldn't decide on which side of 'success' it wanted to hedge its bets. If he got angry with her about it, or shocked, or disgusted, or hesitant, or worried...

Humiliation wasn't fatal, right?

Except she'd been lying on the couch in his quarters, his bed for the past week, staring up at the ceiling and trying her hardest not to imagine all the ways in which humiliation definitely could be fatal, and was failing dismally. If Dylan thought less of her for asking, Sehra honestly wasn't sure if her nervous system was going to withstand the onrush of terrified self-loathing. Adriana's reassurances felt so very distant now...

Was she a freak for wanting this?

She didn't have to wait long till learn her fate. Lieutenant Dylan Blake arrived home a short while later clutching a fistful of flowers he'd properly stolen from the ships arboretum; "Sehra, you here?" he called unable to see her from the entrance-way.

Caught daydreaming, it took a split-second too long for Sehra to realise that she wasn't alone anymore, the result of which was a mad panic to stand up. Counter to her intent, the Betazoid ended up half sprawled on the floor, balanced precariously on the edge of the couch cushions before she could right herself and scramble to her feet. She was flushed and far from immaculate, her fuzzy hair made worse by the tumble.

Well, this is going well.

"Welcome home. Sorry, I was just..." Gesturing towards the couch, Sehra faltered before concluding, "thinking."

His lips instantly twitched into a smile at her appearance , "These are for you," he held out the bouquet of bright wild flowers. "Don't worry they'll perfectly safe. I checked with Lieutenant Stefani, I thought they'd look nice in here. " He added pausing to gauge her reaction.

"You OK? You look well... don't you like them?"

Sehra hadn't meant to stare at the bouquet but it was so rare for her to be rendered speechless that she didn't have any sort of back-up plan rehearsed. What she could recall of her previous romances had never included such a simple, thoughtful gesture and the brunette was inexplicably touched that he'd taken the time to...well, honestly it looked like he'd raided someone's garden. That didn't matter. Rather delayed, she reached out to accept the flowers and buried her nose in the sweet fragrance to mask the sudden brightness in her eyes.

"I love them," she murmured reassuringly. "Though you didn't have to."

He shrugged, "I wanted to. Besides you seemed really happy in the arboretum the other day, if I could bring back an slice of that joy it would be worth it. I'm glad you like them." He smiled widely as she inhaled the fragrance again looking almost overcome with emotion at receiving such a simply gesture. Had no one every bought her flowers before? He shook his head at the thought dismissing the swift spike of anger regarding her past ungrateful romances.

Crossing the room to retrieve a vase Dylan called out to change the subject onto something she'd never been able to resit before now. "You hungry? I'm starved."

This wasn't going according to plan. Of course, Sehra really didn't have a plan, as much as she tried to concoct one, and something about Dylan's question only served as a further reminder that this really wasn't the time to be talking about sleeping arrangements. Yes, it had absorbed her attention since her conversation with Adriana; that didn't mean it would sound particularly odd and perhaps a little nuts if she suddenly brought it up out of no where, right at an obvious mealtime too.

Her stomach grumbled.

The grin that followed was only somewhat abashed, Sehra had never really tried to hide the fact that she could eat enough for both of them. It certainly never translated to extra padding, even though she probably could do with it. Feigning innocence was a more purposeful reaction to her stomach's insistence and the Betazoid rolled her dark eyes to the ceiling as she replied casually, "I could probably force something down."

"I thought you could," Dylan chuckled in reply filling a glass fluted vase with water. "Anything in particular you'd like?"

"Uh..."

The trouble was, once she was reminded she was hungry, Sehra struggled to maintain any sort of patience when it came to food selection. Her's was a family of rich, culinary traditions; the extended family had sat down to meals together at least several times a week for the duration of her childhood and, in the Vahn household, a meal consisted of buffet-style extravagance. Normally her whirlwind approach to life mimicked an over-active metabolism that was more than capable of burning whatever she threw at it but emerging on the calmer side of recovery had left her with an appetite she couldn't curb.

She'd technically already eaten dinner. And by 'technically', she really probably meant 'definitely'.

"Is it dessert-time yet?," she asked hopefully, her face radiating the brand of beguiling innocence that seemed to work best when she was trying to get her own way.

Surprised by her response and by his own double meaning and slightly sordid thoughts, Dylan's grip on the glass vase faltered. Fortunately he was able to recover before the floor was decorated with tiny shards and masses of water.

Did she somehow sense his frustration last night as she slept in his bed alone while he retreated to the couch? He wanted to give space to aid her recovery and if that meant she'd live here, he'd cater. Selfishly he hadn't expected the sleeping arrangement to remain so independent for long, he assumed after a few nights things would almost back to normal. He missed her immensely but not sorely as a recipient of his lustful actions. He wanted to hold her, to whisper in her ear how much he loved her. Yet, he couldn't afford to allow his emotions to worsen her condition or stunt her recovery, if that was the right word to use.

He felt trapped.

With a sense of caution, Dylan licked his lips, suddenly feeling uncomfortable; "I'm not sure, depends on what you're ordering."

Without her telepathy, the innuendo should have flown over Sehra's head, it was certainly subtle enough, and yet...she knew. The flickering nuances in his expression, the slight rise in pitch of his voice... His sudden sense of nervousness. Perhaps it was her own devious thoughts, that had been front and centre for the past hour or so as she tried to work through them. Whatever the reason for the sudden empathy for his plight, the Betazoid's face promptly matched Dylan's, coloured by a very faint blush despite the fact that her eyes contained a familiar fierce boldness that refused to break eye contact.

"Well, you know me, always the sweet tooth."

Her teeth gnawed gently on her bottom lip as Sehra considered for the umpteenth time the wisdom of acting on impulse in her current situation and then found a rush of characteristic courage and impatience to spur her forward. Dylan looked uncertain but he didn't look revolted and he hadn't tried to change the subject; that was a good sign, right? Tentatively, she held out a hand to him.

"I just hate eating alone."

The hushed gentleness of her tone was in direct conflict with the fire in her eyes and Sehra's heart thumped as she waited to see if she'd just crossed a line. Feeling this terrified about instigating physical contact felt alien but messing this up wasn't an option. This right here, in this room, everything about it had become her life and if she took things too far....well, it wasn't the glass that would end up shattered at her feet.

With a heavy thunk Dylan placed the vase down before he really did drop it. He felt certain he was staring at her like some goofy inexperienced teenager presented with the option to moving to third base or higher. It was both exciting and terrifying in the same instant. Though longing to touch her in such a interment manner he didn't want to ruin what they'd already achieved or set her upon a path she didn't want to go.

Would she ever forgive him?

Yet, seeing her like this - bold and impulsive were very familiar traits, as if her former self was beginning to rise again. How could he turn this down? She was trying to deal with her memory loss in her own way as much as he had, together they'd made could progress so wouldn't this help jump start things? The prospect certainly jump started something causing the man to wince slightly with further discomfort.

Unable to ignore her outstretched hand and burning eyes any longer Dylan gave in to his impulse. "Me too," he answered crossing toward her and taking her hand and bringing it to his lips.

Despite the pounding of rushing blood in her ears, despite the nervous flip-flopping her stomach was experiencing, despite a thousand little niggling doubts gnawing at her mind...Sehra grinned. It didn't take a telepath to see that Dylan was practically on the same page and that was all she needed to know. At least if she was crazy, they were losing their minds together.

Deep within her brown eyes, a familiar sparkle ignited, finally breaking through the emotional debris that had stifled it for so long. With a quirk of her eyebrow, Sehra found a familiar stride and turned her overly-analytic brain off. Trusting her instincts and impulses felt natural. Normal. Necessary.

"Dylan..." Her voice wobbled a little, though it had nothing to do with nerves now. "I have a confession to make."

:OFF

Lieutenant Dylan "Loverboy" Blake
Chief Operations Officer

and

Petty Officer 3rd Class Sehra "Skip To Last Course" Vahn
Counselor

 

RSS Feed