Chanced Chapter 9: Enterprise - Choice
Pairing: Christopher Pike x F!Reader (no Y/N) Warnings: mentions of sex, kissing WC: 3.8k Taglist: @fzziiee Notes: We’re finally here. Thank you so much to everyone who’s read and interacted with this story <333 This is one which wouldn’t let me go: last year I wrote Fierce and that featured an established relationship but I always kind of wondered, how did Chris and Reader get together? Now I know. Rating: Mature Summary: you had suddenly woken up again to how handsome he is. To his broad shoulders. To that perfect jaw. To those devastating blue eyes. It’s not that you had ever really forgotten, of course, but now it was so distracting.
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Starship Enterprise, 2254
Starship Enterprise continues to surprise you.
Sometimes in bad ways: you knew you shouldn’t make eye-contact with a member of the Kosha’en until they had touched you to acknowledge your presence, but you didn’t know that looking to their left rather than right was a terrible insult until you found yourself writhing on the floor at the wrong end of an energy whip.
But often in good ways. When you were applying for the posting, you hoped you and the captain would be on friendly terms, but you couldn’t have seen yourself cooking in his kitchen.
“Taste this. What do you think – more ginger?” You dip a spoon in the carrot and orange soup and offer it to Chris. Everything else for dinner is ready, or on the way: the salmon is roasting in the oven with fennel, chilli and orange and lemon slices; the Mediterranean roast vegetables that Chris had prepared are in the oven too, and the key lime pie, with a touch of dark chocolate grated on top, is chilling.
He leans across and tastes the soup on the spoon, expression going from thoughtful to a warm smile. “It’s perfect. The heat of the ginger is there – that little kick – but it doesn’t overpower the other flavours.” He tilts his head. “You need to stop worrying. Your guests are going to love it.”
You turn the heat down to the point where the soup is just being kept warm and put the lid on the saucepan. “It’s my first time cooking for company in so long. You know how it is when you don’t do something for a while.”
“We’ll have to make this a regular thing, then. Enter!” He adds, as the door chimes.
Your nerves melt away as your friends and colleagues come in. Commander Nhan is on bridge duty, and Lestari is on shift too, but Sullivan hands you a bottle of wine with a smile, closely followed by Corea, Tehrani, and Anderson. You pour wine as Chris passes round bowls of olives, and conversation soon flows.
Chris makes an excellent host, you think, as you do final checks on the food that’s still cooking. You know Corea especially had been a little anxious when you invited him, but he isn’t anymore; he’s telling some anecdote that has everyone else laughing. Chris looks over to you, a question in his expression. You nod, pouring the soup into a tureen, and he steers your guests to the table.
“Thank you for this evening,” Chris says as you load up the recycler. You’re tired, but you’re feeling that buzz that comes when your guests are gone, but you know they had a good time.
“Oh? I think that’s my line,” you say, glancing at him over your shoulder. “You let me do all this,” you gesture with the last dish before putting it in the recycler.
“I used to host the crew quite often, but… I haven’t for a while. You gave me a reason to again, and I’d forgotten how much I enjoy it.” He smiles. “Next time I’m cooking.”
“Nicola was waxing lyrical about your steak when I told him what I was doing this evening, just in case you’re looking for menu ideas…” you straighten up. “Looks like I’m done. Thank you for this evening, though. It was wonderful to cook again.” You turn to see him studying you, looking thoughtful. Your eyes meet, and just for a moment—
But no. You take a breath and smile. “See you at briefing?”
“Steak with the bridge crew next time, then. It’s a plan. Good night.”
Fresh basil with your scrambled eggs, spinach and tomatoes tastes good, and your coffee, arguably, tastes better. You’re eating breakfast in the mess hall, and everything seems right with the universe. Especially since you see Tehrani and Anderson heading your way with their trays; you’re glad for the excuse to lay aside your PADD with its somewhat dull report.
“Good morning,” you say, bright, as they sit. “How was your run?”
“The run itself was dull,” Tehrani says, taking a sip of her peppermint tea. “We should have art up in the corridors. Something.”
You nod to Anderson. “Well done for dragging her out.”
Anderson nods back, hazel eyes sparkling. “She likes it really. Plus, we got to talk.”
“That’s true. We did.” Tehrani is holding a flatbread in hand, but she focuses on you. “We enjoyed dinner last night. The salmon.” She sighs, closing her eyes. “Perfection. But…” her eyes snap open and she raises a brow. “We have a question.”
“Oh?”
“I’ve had my suspicions for a while. For example, I don’t see the captain spending hours in sickbay keeping other officers company when people get injured. But last night?” Her eyes narrow. “How long have you and Pike been together?”
You choke on your coffee.
“Excuse me?”
“Together. You know? A couple? Spending time together? Cooking together? Sleeping together? All that stuff?”
“Oh my goodness Laleh, we are not together! Gosh!” You keep your voice low and look around, hoping no one else is close enough to hear. “We’re just friends. He’s the captain; he’s in my chain of command. He’s in everyone’s chain of command – he wouldn’t be with anyone on the ship. We’re friends. Good friends, but friends is all it is.”
Anderson shakes her head, voice gentle when she speaks. “No, but… the way he looks at you. If someone looked at me like that…” her expression goes dreamy as she takes a mouthful of her scrambled egg.
Tehrani waves her fork. “And the way you look at him. There has to be something there.”
“Well, there isn’t, so…”
“So even if you aren’t together, you both clearly want to be.” Tehrani’s brown eyes soften. “Of course you’d want to be careful, but there are no rules against relationships, even for captains. There’s no reason you shouldn’t be together if you want to.” She bites into her flatbread with an air of finality.
“We don’t want to be together, though. I don’t want to be with him. So… that’s that.”
You can tell they don’t believe you.
Sometimes, you just need to hit something. You’re in the gym, but you’re warming up before going for the punching bag, because you’re a professional.
These last few days have been frustrating. After your breakfast conversation with Tehrani and Anderson you struggled to concentrate on the bridge. You were painfully aware of every move Pike made, whether it was accessing data at the console in his chair, or getting up to check something with science or comms, or joking with Number One. You couldn’t stop asking yourself, is he looking at me differently to everyone else? Am I looking at him in a different way?
And even if you weren’t, you had suddenly woken up again to how handsome he is. To his broad shoulders. To that perfect jaw. To those devastating blue eyes. It’s not that you had ever really forgotten, of course, but now it was so distracting.
You often linger for a chat after evening briefing. You should have lingered to thank him again for letting you host the dinner party. Your eyes even met over the lightning table… But you made sure you left with the crowd.
So when Sullivan wanted someone to train some junior officers whose shooting scores were low— Well. You’re good at shooting. You volunteered.
You spent the next couple of days by turns teaching, coaxing and cajoling junior science and a few operations officers to shoot. Most of them didn’t want to be there, struggling with a skill they didn’t find intuitive or natural. You know they can be better, but your usual methods aren’t quite cutting it.
Still if teaching means you don’t need to go to briefings, don’t need to spend time on the bridge, don’t need to think about how you’re looking at the captain, and how he’s looking at you… if you don’t have to think about things like what you want… then that’s fine.
“How’s it going?” Sullivan asks at lunchtime on day two. You’re eating a protein bar in the security office for efficiency’s sake. You don’t like them really, but sometimes the mess hall can be… a waste of time.
“It’s going. The officers are making progress; It’ll be hard, for Ensign Orlova especially, but they should all make the grade… I just think they need to change the associations they have with shooting. I mean, yeah, sure, it’s something they’re examined on, and something they can only expect to have to do for real in a stressful situation, but it can be fun as well and I don’t think they see that. And if they don’t, we could be right back here in six months, struggling again.”
Sullivan’s eyes warm. He knows you have something you want to try. “And?”
“Velocity tournament. I’m thinking two on two. We can do group stages so each pair gets a decent number of games regardless of skill, and if enough people want to do it, no one will feel like they’re being picked on or singled out.”
“And at worst it should be fun. Yeah, that’s a good idea, Commander. I’ll run it by the captain. Are you going to the movie tonight?”
You meant to go to the film. There’s an unwritten rule that says that ship-wide entertainment like that always falls to the junior security officers. Your projectionist skills are nothing to write home about, but you did your time setting things up in the shuttle bay of the De Milo over a decade ago, and if nothing else you like to support your junior colleagues.
Suzuki had been talking up this evening’s movie, a 20th century classic, he said, called Singing in the Rain, for days. You had to hand it to him; pretty much everyone on alpha shift and a good few on gamma were planning to attend. You weren’t sure if the captain would be there, but if he was… it would be dark. He wouldn’t see you.
However, by the time you’d spent the last of your patience on Orlova, there was no way you were going to be able to sit still for more than an hour watching a musical. Normally the target range would be a place you would go to calm down, but not this evening. Anyway, you hadn’t had a proper cardio session for a couple of days. So, punching.
The gym is empty with everyone at the movie, but that suits you fine. As you stretch, then run through some basic katas, your mind is working. You’ve been avoiding thinking about what Tehrani and Anderson said for long enough; it’s time to face up to things.
You weren’t meaning to be dishonest when you said you didn’t want to be with him, but… the way you’ve been feeling these past few days… the way you’ve felt like you needed to avoid Chris to maintain your equilibrium… the way you’ve avoided your friends… maybe they were right. Maybe you do want more.
You move on to skipping, getting into a rhythm, getting your heart rate up.
If you want more, though… what does that mean? You can’t have more.
He’s still the captain, and he’s been clear in the past about not wanting a relationship with a subordinate. But if you can’t look at him just as a friend…
“Hey, I hoped I’d find you here.” Pike is walking toward you in an ENTER tee to match your own, perfectly fit to highlight his muscles, carrying a water bottle. And it’s all you can do not to trip over your rope.
“Captain, you’re not at the movie?” You say, once you’ve disentangled yourself as gracefully as possible.
He shrugs. “I’ve seen it before. I need a workout. I’ve not seen you for a day or two; I wanted to catch up with you, see how you are. And ask you to partner me in the velocity tournament.” He grins. “Thought I’d better get in there before you get a better offer.”
You stare at him, blank for a moment, before remembering your voice. “So I… I guess Sullivan asked you, then?”
“He did, and I think it’s a great idea. We can always use a little friendly competition. What do you say?”
You should say no. You shouldn’t partner him. For so many reasons. “Yes. I’d be happy to.”
“Excellent. Do you want to practice tonight?”
You shudder, and shake your head. “I spent all day on the range. I love shooting, but I can’t vouch for what I might do if I get a phaser in my hands again so soon.”
“Ensign Orlova was that bad, huh? Sparring then, after I’ve warmed up? Unless you think you were wrong?”
“Excuse me?” You frown.
“You said you could take me. At that gallery. Starbase—Starbase 90. Still think that’s true?”
This is another terrible idea. You should make an excuse, and leave. Instead you tilt your head and shrug, nonchalant. “I guess I’ll give it a go.”
You circle each other, gloves on, hands up in a guard position. The goal is to get your opponent to the mat, and your desire to win is currently overriding any other… desires… you may have.
On the negative side, the captain is taller than you, stronger than you, and has a longer reach. Plus, you’ve never seen him fight.
On the positive side, this is your job, and you’re used to opponents like him. You know he’ll likely be better than most of the people you face; he’s not a renowned tactician for nothing, and he clearly spends time on his physique. But you know the training he’s had inside and out. And he’s never seen you fight. He’ll guess that you’re faster than him, maybe more flexible, but he doesn’t know by how much.
It’s tempting, as you circle each other, you trying to get a feel for how Pike will move, how he will attack, to just try to stay out of reach and attempt to tire him out. But he’ll have seen that tactic before. So you step in and test his guard, letting him make contact on the counterattack, even as you lean away from the pressure of the blow.
You step into his range again and he goes on the offensive. But again, while he connects, you’re ready. You don’t hit back, this time, but you know you could have.
“You’re holding out on me,” Chris says as you circle each other again.
The corner of your mouth raises. “A little? Not anymore.”
And then it’s real. You’re moving together and it’s almost like that nightclub on Risa, almost like a dance, but this time when either of you miss a step you get punished. You were right, you think ruefully, as you circle him – he is good. He attacks again and you dodge just a fraction late and save yourself – just – by leaning right back, one hand touching the floor, before you duck under his next blow and send him off balance. Then you’re back at it again, jab, weave, duck, circle.
Finally, you see a weakness you can exploit. You kick, high, slightly off target, and he tries to come after you with his fist on the counterattack again. But you bring your leg back down and kick again, low, tangling his legs as he moves forward. He tries to save himself but it’s too late: he’s falling and you should be stepping back, celebrating your victory, but somehow he hooks your leg on the way down and you’re falling too.
They air is pushed out of your lungs as you land hard right on top of him. You gasp air back in, somehow unable to move, feeling his body all along yours, feeling his heavy breathing matching your own. You stare to the side, trying not to look at him.
You should get up. Get away. You knew you shouldn’t have said yes to sparring; being this close is doing things to you, and you shouldn’t have let yourself get into this situation at all. But before you can gather yourself, he raises a hand and touches your face, so gently. You gasp softly at the feeling, and drag your gaze over to look into those deep blue eyes.
Those deep blue eyes darkened by desire.
He must see that same desire in your eyes, too.
“We—we should talk,” he manages, finally. “The ready room? Or… my quarters.”
You appreciate that he’s the sort of person who gives you the choice. That you could answer ready room, and tell him that trying to be friends didn’t work out, so you should both go back to a professional distance until it’s a good time for you to transfer off the ship.
But if he weren’t the captain, and if you weren’t a senior officer, you wouldn’t be able to resist kiss him then and there. You push up off the floor and stand, then offer him your hand.
“Your quarters?”
You do stop by your quarters to shower and change into civvies. You hope that taking a little time would quell the fluttering in your stomach, help calm your beating heart. It does neither of those things, but you force yourself not to rush too much to give Chris a little time, too.
The lights are low and Chris stands looking out the window at the stars rushing by, but he turns as you come through the door.
“Hi,” he says, something satisfied in his smile, and you should stop, you should talk, work out exactly what this is going to be between you, but you’re walking into his arms and he’s holding you tight and kissing you.
You knew he could light you up. But you feel like you’re glowing, as bright as one of the blurry strands of warp starlight outside. You kiss him back, hungry, lips parted, your hands rising to touch his chest. Yet somehow, as light as you feel, you also feel grounded. The tension you felt, worrying about whether you could have this is gone; it’s being replaced by a new tension, starting somewhere low.
“We really should talk,” Chris says between kisses, and you know he’s right, but it’s hard to stop. Gradually your kisses gentle, though, and you stand there breathing, foreheads leaning together for a few moments, before he takes your hand and leads you to the couch. You sit, and he doesn’t let go.
“I missed you, these past couple of days. And I thought about why that might be, and I realised...” he takes a soft breath. “I may be the captain, and you may be a subordinate, but I trust you, and I want more. Not just physical, although what we had on Risa, that was a lot of fun, but a relationship. Is that what you want too?”
“I didn’t come here for a one-night stand… that’s not enough for me either. I was avoiding you, because part of me had realised I couldn’t be happy just be friends with you anymore.” You look up into his eyes. “I trust you too, and… I want to be with you, Chris.” You bite your lip, barely able to hide your smile.
Chris smiles back, eyes warm. “There will be challenges. I should tell the admiralty about us, as a courtesy,” he says, running his thumb over the back of your hand. “I’ll give Admiral Cornwell a call tomorrow. I’ll ask Number One to keep an eye on my decision-making, too. And,” he tilts his head and his mouth quirks a little. “I’m the captain. I have a responsibility to the ship and the two hundred and three souls aboard. There will be times when I can’t put you first.”
You nod, serious. “I know. I wouldn’t want you to put me before the Enterprise or her crew.” You shrug. “You—you wouldn’t be you if you did. But also… you can’t try to shelter me. If I’m the right person for a mission, you have to let me go. Even when it’s risky, when it’s dangerous. And…”
“And…?”
“If this doesn’t work out, you get the Enterprise. I’ll leave on Lizzie.”
“Let’s not plan the ending before we begin, shall we?” Chris smiles that crooked half smile, the one you can’t resist. And as you lean in to kiss him you realise you no longer have to.
This kiss is different again from the ones you’ve shared before. You feel your desire building, but you have time now. Time to make out on the sofa, getting your hands on each other as you climb into his lap. Time to touch those firm muscles, that jawline, that little bit of stubble signifying the end of the day. And then when you’re ready, time to move to Chris’ bedroom.
The sex is different too. You take your time reacquainting yourselves with each other, the things you know you both enjoy, but it’s more intense somehow. The highs are that much higher having this relationship, as new as it is.
And afterward, he pulls you in close. “Stay here tonight. Stay with me.”
“I want to,” you reply, softly. “But I can’t leave here in civvies in the morning.”
“I’m not the captain for nothing. We can synthesise a new uniform. Stay.”
You kiss him, lingering, enjoying the feel of his warm body against yours. “I will,” you murmur into his skin.
You and Chris sit on the couch, coffees and PADDs in hand. You feel fresh in a newly synthesised uniform, and Chris has transformed back into Captain Pike. But you still find yourself touching, making the most of this last bit of intimacy before the day starts properly. He offered to make you breakfast, and you were sorely tempted, but your friends will be expecting you – you can’t avoid them any longer.
Tehrani will have a huge ‘I told you so’ moment when you tell her about you and the captain. And Penny—
You laugh.
“What is it?”
“I don’t know how you feel about telling other people, whether you want to keep us between us for a while, but I was picturing telling Penny. And how she’s going to take credit. If she hadn’t stood me up that day, you would never have spoken to me. We— None of this would have happened.”
“We would have passed like ships in the night. I’m sure you would have made it here, but we wouldn’t have this.” Chris turns to you, blue eyes catching yours. “When you tell her… tell her thank you.”