fake/pretend relationship. captaineer. 675 words. might finish later on, depends. server likely saw it first.
“A marriage alliance?”
“Yes,” the Councilor repeated for the third time. He was starting to get impatient, and—good lord. You had to come up with an alternative real quick.
“As much as I would love to be allied through marriage, I’m afraid that I will have to decline.”
The Councilor raised an eyebrow. “And why is that, Captain?”
Now or never. “I’m married.”
There was a collective gasp around the bridge, which was to be expected. What you didn’t expect was Mark going rigid next to you, fingers stilling on top of his datapad.
The Councilor narrowed his eyes through the holographic display, and you did your best to act cool. It wasn’t the first time you had to stretch the truth like this. You were pretty sure that somewhere, in the multiverse, you were happily married and doing things only a married person does. You sort of wished the wormhole was back so that you could pull that version of you into this situation right now.
“I…see.” The Councilor frowned. “May I ask why this was not in the briefing when your delegation visited us?”
You put a hand on your chin thoughtfully. “I didn’t think it was relevant, Councilor. I’m a very private person, and I prefer to keep my personal affairs to myself. I apologize for any offense regarding my actions.”
“Well,” he said haughtily, “may I ask who you are married to?”
All eyes were on you. You didn’t blink or miss a beat when you gestured and said, confidently, “My head engineer, Mark.”
The collective gasp returned.
You felt Mark’s incredulous stare burning a hole in the side of your head, and you had to fight to maintain eye contact with the Councilor, whose eyes shifted between you and your head engineer.
“Our Earth’s Space Force doesn’t even know, as well as the crew members of this ship,” you continued, gaze downcast, “but we wanted to make things work, and we certainly knew that if we had revealed that we were married, they would have assigned us on different stations. We wanted to avoid that as much as possible, so…” you spread your hands. “Here we are.”
The Councilor was silent, taking in this information. You didn’t turn your head or try to shush the restless crew—you needed to get out of this scrape, preferably alive and with your ship still intact.
“Such a shame,” the Councilor ended up saying. “I truly believe a marriage alliance would have made matters much better. But alas,” he tipped his head at you, “you are currently in wedlock. Unless you engage in polygamy?”
Your eyes widened a fraction. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Councilor, but polygamy is not for me. It’s just Mark. He’s the one, and he’ll be the only one.”
The Councilor digested this, shifting his gaze between you and Mark. “Such a shame,” he repeated. “But I must respect your wishes. We will figure out a way around this marriage alliance, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Yes we will,” you nodded, and the Councilor made a motion off-screen to cut the call.
As soon as the hologram dropped, you let out a shaky breath, briefly closing your eyes.
The tension was palpable, and no one said anything for a long while.
Someone cleared their throat. “Well,” and your eyelashes fluttered open, glancing sideways at the source. It was Gunther, puffing on his cigar. “That happened.”
Burt whistled lowly.
“Captain,” Celci hedged, “what did you just do?”
What did you just do? You didn’t know what kind of expression you had right now. You also didn’t want to turn to face Mark, but…
You eventually twist around to his stiff figure, straightening your posture. He was staring at you with something inscrutable, but you couldn’t deny that you saw the rage and hurt simmering beneath the surface.
Swallowing, you pleaded, “Mark—”
He turned heel and left, punching the sensor for the bridge door to slide open. No one said a word when it closed, the clanging echo ringing in your ears.
“Shit,” you muttered.
