He Blinded Me With Science
Many thanks to the ever-lovely and always talented @spielzeugkaiser for collaborating with me once again on this goofy, exceedingly soft Star Trek AU! 4.3k
Boldly going where no fluff has gone before...
tw: simulated near-death experiences
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Stardate 47634.44
Commander Geralt deRiv watched with a stoic sense of envy as Counselor Pankratz wrapped his arms around young Ensign Cirilla and gave her a bone-crushing hug. The pretty young Betazoid man picked her up and spun her in a quick circle, his superior height the only way to compensate for her excessively gangly teenage limbs.
The Commander watched from nearby - not too close to the group to be considered an intrusion - and tried to find a logical way to explain why he felt his own mild sense of happiness whenever he heard a note of joy in Counselor Pankratz’s steady tenor. Geralt looked on, still oddly and illogically jealous, as the Counselor pressed a quick kiss to either of Ciri’s cheeks and declared: “Congratulations, cub! I’m so excited that you’ll be staying with us for your last few years of Starfleet training!”
Once the Counselor was finished bestowing his blessings and congratulations, Captain Vesemir stepped forward and clapped his hand over the girl’s shoulder, his sharp hazel eyes sparkling with pride and perhaps even mischief. His bushy grey mustache turned up in the corners, the ultimate marker of his approval. “Congratulations, Ensign Cirilla. Let me be the first to welcome you aboard the USS Kaer Morhen as an official member of the Bridge crew. We’re happy to have you along with us, my dear.”
“Grandma would be so proud,” Ciri smiled. It wasn't her usual chipper smile, either, but something distant and sad and longing. Geralt found human culture far too touchy-feely for his tastes; except, apparently, when it came to Counselor Pankratz. “May I send a message to the Away team and let my Mom know about my appointment, Captain?”
“Of course,” Vesemir grinned. “I’m sure that she’ll be incredibly proud of you, cub.”
Counselor Pankratz hugged Ciri one last time and Geralt felt his jealousy return, crackling just beneath the surface of his too-pale skin. The Commander’s sudden bout of white-hot emotion jarred him back to reality and he took a step forward, ready to offer Ciri his own set of congratulations. When Jaskier shot him a curious sidelong glance, however, Geralt realized that he needed to keep his feelings more deeply in check than he already was - having feelings for a Betazoid was difficult enough.
He stepped forward and patted the newly officiated Ensign on the shoulder twice, as he had just seen Vesemir do, an obvious sign of trust and competency, “Excellent work, Cirilla. I look forward to having you on the Away team. You have a clever mind and sharp observational skills; they will be a great asset.”
The young woman’s eyes widened above her already enormous smile and she bounced twice on the balls of her feet, her hands clasped beneath her chin and her cheeks flushed pink with all the praise. “Thank you so much, Commander deRiv! It means the world to hear you say that!”
“You are a commendable officer and always do your job to the best of your abilities. I am pleased to hear that you will remain a part of our crew,” Geralt nodded, eyebrows furrowed with the seriousness of his statement. He folded his hands behind his back and shifted his eyes up to meet the Captain’s, unsure of how to proceed with the boisterous Ensign’s enthusiastic response to his comments. “May I be dismissed, sir?”
“Yes, thank you, Commander. I’ll read over your report from the last Away mission this evening and send you any questions or comments I may have before your bridge shift tomorrow.”
“Understood. Thank you, Captain.”
---
Stardate 47634.44
“So the two of them have actually met before?” Vesemir clarified. Lambert nodded, smirking a little too smugly for anyone’s comfort. The Captain continued, ever-wary of the officer’s tendency to play pranks, “And you think that they’re in love?”
“I wouldn’t necessarily call it love. I mean, not to interrupt Lambert’s gossiping, Captain, but your Senior Science Officer and your Ship’s Counselor definitely have feelings for each other. I’ve seen the tips of Geralt’s pointy ears go green just from passing Jaskier’s table in Ten Forward,” Eskel noted from the raised Security platform behind the Captain’s chair. “And despite being a serial hugger and hand-holder, Jask keeps himself politely disengaged and professional whenever he’s dealing with our shy Commander deRiv.”
“They’re idiots, Captain,” First Officer Vengerberg added from her seat at Vesemir’s side. Yennefer was radiating pride and happiness, resplendent from Ciri’s recent acceptance to Starfleet and continued assignment on the Kaer Morhen. Still, she found a moment to roll her eyes and contribute, “Commander deRiv refuses to let his human side show by constantly shielding and suppressing his emotions, meanwhile Counselor Pankratz is too polite to try and hit on a man from a species known for their lack of romantic tendencies. And, since Jaskier is still half-human himself, he can’t technically read thoughts. He can only detect feelings. In my personal opinion, Captain, Jaskier isn’t sure what the Commander thinks of him.”
“Aye, sir, I agree with the Witch,” Lambert nodded. He glanced over his shoulder from his place at the helm and winked at the dark-haired woman roguishly. “Unfortunately.”
Yennefer stuck her tongue out at him.
“Knock it off, you two.” The Captain tried to hide his amusement behind a stern tone but didn’t quite succeed. “I have more pressing matters to deal with than your endless bickering - like children, I swear. Anyhow, we only narrowly managed to make it away from Florelia-4 without breaking the Prime Directive and interrupting their sacrificial rites. We need to be more careful the next time we make contact with such a young, underdeveloped society.”
“I’m sure that Jaskier would be able to teach us a thing or two about diplomacy, especially now that he’s more comfortable around us and has adjusted to the ship. The Counselor probably should have been on that Away team in the first place, then perhaps our unfortunate little debacle could have been prevented entirely.”
“You’re certainly right about his place on the Away team, Yen. I think I’d like him to take the Bridge Officers’ test as well; it would be a great boon to our company to have an empath with Bridge clearance.”
“Do you think he’ll be able to pass on his first try, Captain?” the Security Chief asked.
“He’ll need help, Commander Eskel. I expect you’ll be able to tutor him?”
“I don’t have the time,” Eskel rebutted. “Nor does Lambert; we’re working on that new Ensign Training Program for the Holodeck. Starfleet asked us to have our rough draft turned in by next week.”
“Hmm,” Vesemir leaned back and closed his eyes. His eyebrows gathered at the center of his forehead as he concentrated and Lambert got a terrible idea; a truly awful, completely horrible idea that would definitely end with Commander Geralt’s infinite happiness (regardless of how long it actually took the dumbass Science Officer to get his shit together).
He piped up, chest puffed confidently: “Not to bring the conversation back around to the Commander and his nervous blushing, but why not have Pretty Boy tutor the Counselor, Captain?”
Vesemir let one eye slide carefully open, focusing on the sassy young Lieutenant at the helm. “You mean that I should ask Commander deRiv to keep an eye on Jaskier for the duration of his Bridge Officers’ training?”
“Precisely,” First Officer Vengerberg grinned, catching onto the meaning behind Lambert’s increasingly smug smile. “Oh, you’re absolutely evil, Lamb.”
“I don’t like to meddle in the lives of my officers,” Vesemir grumbled, truly conflicted. “But this promises to be both beneficial and entertaining to all involved.”
“C’mon Captain,” Lambert pleaded. “If he’s too busy to help the Counselor then he’ll tell you so; Geralt isn’t exactly known for his abilities to make excuses or beat around the bush.”
“Alright, alright. You’re all awful and so am I. So be it.” Vesemir huffed. He tapped his communicator pin twice and spoke clearly, “Commander deRiv, please report to the Bridge.”
“On my way, Captain,” the Commander’s monotone voice crackled back.
Lambert and Ciri high-fived at the helm and Yennefer shook her head, biting back a pleased grin. Even the usually calm and collected Eskel seemed excited for whatever was about to unfold.
---
Counselor Pankratz arrived a few minutes after Commander deRiv, determined to speak with the Captain about a completely unrelated matter, and found himself on the business end of Vesemir’s affectionately stern scowl. “After the incident that occurred on our recent Away mission to Florelia-4, I’d like to give you a promotion and increase your list of responsibilities to include supervising any potentially diplomatic situations the Kaer Morhen may encounter from here on out.”
Jaskier gawked openly for a moment before gathering his wits enough to reply: “I’m more than happy to accept your kind and generous offer, Captain Vesemir, and I’m incredibly honored that you would consider me for such a position!”
Geralt stepped forward to stand at Vesemir’s side and Jaskier found himself struggling to remain focused on his commanding officer’s continued speech: “I’d also like you to take the Bridge Officers’ test. Commander deRiv will be in charge of your training regimen, so I’d like you to meet him at the holodeck sometime tomorrow evening for your first round of tutoring. I’ll let you two figure out the finer details, since I’m not privy to your individual schedules.”
“Yes, sir.” Jaskier fought bravely against the growing urge to faint and hid his sudden anxiety behind a calm and grateful smile. “Thank you again for your trust in my capabilities, Captain. I’m truly excited for these new opportunities to learn and to become closer with the other members of the crew.”
Geralt gave a single, accepting nod. “I will do my best to instruct Counselor Pankratz, Captain.”
Lambert winked at the Captain from behind the two unwitting officers’ backs and Vesemir’s scowl relaxed into a near-smile. The Captain clapped Geralt on the shoulder much the same way Geralt had done with Ciri earlier and Geralt wondered if it was mischief glinting in Vesemir’s stormy hazel eyes when he replied, “I’m sure you will, Commander.”
Stardate 47634.44, Evening
Geralt dreamed of his father for the first time that night.
The two men were standing in Geralt’s quarters, familiar and comfortable, as if Korin deRiv had always been a member of the Kaer Morhen’s crew. The human man was grinning down at Geralt with a shining sense of pride.
“Look at you, my son,” Korin smiled, his green eyes crinkling at the corners to reveal his crow’s feet. “You’ve grown quite a bit since I last saw you.”
“Father,” Geralt bowed his head respectfully.
“Just like your Mother, I see,” Korin teased. “All mannerly and polite, with a resting expression more akin to a scowl than a smile. Are you logical to a fault as well, my son?”
Geralt frowned more deeply than he already had been and turned his face away, unable to let his own confusion and conflicting emotions show. Visenna had done little in the way of raising Geralt to begin with, and she’d grown even more distant after his father’s untimely death. Geralt supposed that, with only his Mother’s brilliant coldness as an example of affectionate behavior, he may have taken after her more than he’d realized.
His shoulders sagged and his head drooped.
“Yes.”
“Hmm. You even sound like her,” Korin said. He came around to Geralt’s other side and put one hand on his son’s broad shoulder. “I may not have the kind of mental prowess that you and your Mother share, but I know a yearning heart when I see one.”
“Vulcans do not yearn,” Geralt snapped. He glared up into those familiar eyes and crossed his arms over his chest, feeling (and looking) a little childish as he did so.
“Humans do,” his Father smiled. “And I think that you would feel better if you remembered more often that you’re only half-Vulcan. The other half of your very DNA demands romance, companionship, love, and creativity. Don’t be afraid to step outside of your logical enclosure once and awhile. You may be happily surprised with the results, my son.”
“Did you ever-” Geralt bit his tongue, considered his words, and then continued, “Did you ever regret your decision to stay with Mother?”
“Once,” Korin admitted. “Only once, and it was the day after you were born. She held you in her arms only long enough to feed you and then she handed you to the nursemaid without another word. Not even a parting kiss for her newborn child. Then I remembered her lineage, the way she’d been brought up - without even a scrap of affection - and I forgave her. I loved her all the more after that, to make up for the tenderness she hadn’t gotten to experience when she needed it most…”
Geralt felt an unfamiliar heat behind his eyes and reached up to wipe away a tear. He glared down at the glistening drop of moisture; it clung to the tip of his finger almost desperately, forcing him to confront the emotions he worked so hard to hide during his waking hours. His chest ached. His lungs burned. This felt more real than a dream, more solid and weighty than any subconscious urging.
“Let yourself love him, Geralt,” Korin said as he began to fade from sight, “Don’t argue yourself out of your own happiness. Don’t let yourself be held back by tradition. Not in the face of an emotion so wonderful it could change the way you see the lights outside your starship windows. Free your mind, my son, and your heart will follow.”
With Korin’s ghostly warning thus issued, Geralt sat straight up in bed. He gasped for breath, clutching at his chest - the tacky wetness of half-dried tears on his cheeks was a totally foreign sensation.
Jaskier was at the forefront of his mind, as if the Counselor had been caught on repeat in the Vulcan’s thoughts.
Geralt pictured the way the younger man’s blue eyes sparkled when he laughed. The way Jaskier’s hips swayed enchantingly as meandered his way through Ten Forward or down the starship’s plain beige halls. The way his hair fell just so over his forehead and around his ears. The way he made everyone feel comfortable and safe in their own skin when he was near, an accidental byproduct of both his empathic powers and cheerful personality.
With every little detail Geralt remembered about Jaskier, he felt his human emotions growing stronger and more easy to define. He sorted through them by name in an odd and stringently Vulcan attempt to calm himself down: Lust. Adoration. Excitement. Jealousy. Happiness. Confusion. Anticipation.
Perhaps, though he was still too nervous to fully accept or analyze it yet, Love.
Geralt remained awake all through the night as he attempted to understand and accept the feelings he’d spent his entire life desperately trying to evade.
Still, as a beam of artificial sunlight projected down from the ceiling to spread across his pillow at 06:00, Commander deRiv found himself smiling at the idea that he’d be joining the Counselor on the holodeck later that afternoon, joy blooming hot and comforting at the center of his chest.
It was a sensation he wouldn’t mind getting used to.
Stardate 47648.47
Commander deRiv spent two impossibly long weeks tutoring Counselor Pankratz for the Bridge Officers’ test. The stubborn Counselor insisted that his senior officer refer to him only as “Jaskier” and in turn only referred to the Commander by his first name, the word “Geralt” falling from Jaskier’s lips with such musical normalcy that it nearly felt affectionate.
The time he spent working as Jaskier’s devoted tutor were two of the most tortuous and wonderful weeks of Geralt’s extensive Vulcan lifetime. At the end of the final day of pre-test training courses, Jaskier asked Geralt to meet him for dinner at Ten Forward to celebrate. “I’ve never gone through the promotional system this way and it’s really quite thrilling. I owe you so many favors, dearest Geralt.”
“Hmm.”
“I can feel how proud you are of me,” Jaskier teased, his fingers brushing against Geralt’s shoulder in a casual gesture of affection. The Counselor had grown more comfortable around the Science Officer but still refused to let his touches linger for more than a few seconds at a time. The contact never included full embraces, either; a fact which seemed to grow more bothersome to Geralt with every passing day. The Counselor’s eyebrows crinkled together and his hand fell back to his side, “I suddenly sense an anger in you, a frustration that wasn’t present just before. Are you feeling alright, Commander?”
Commander.
The word struck Geralt in the center of the chest like a Romulan phaser blast, knocking the breath from his lungs. Jaskier hadn’t called him Geralt, musical and sweet and blissfully normal, but Commander. The senior officer reigned in his feelings, slipping back into the comfortable apathy of his Vulcan breeding.
“I’m alright,” Geralt replied smoothly. “I fear that I have not done your training justice; I apologize that I allowed my control to slip. I did not mean for you to experience the brunt of any such negative feelings, Cou- Jaskier.”
A slight smile returned to the Betazoid’s face and his cheeks flushed. Clearly Geralt had made the right decision by ignoring his instinct to use Jaskier’s full title. “I was just worried about you, that’s all.”
“Worried?” Geralt’s eyebrows furrowed again. “About me? Why?”
“Because I care about you.” Jaskier brushed his hand against the back of Geralt’s again, feather-light and far too quick to provide any satisfaction to Geralt’s endless yearning. “Anyway, I can’t sense them anymore, now.”
“I… handled them.”
“You can just turn your feelings on and off like a lightswitch?” Jaskier inquired, genuine curiosity strong in his tone. “They disappeared so quickly.”
“Hmm,” Geralt acknowledged, nodding solemnly. “Historically, emotional control is one of the greatest achievements of Vulcan society. We do not allow our feelings to affect our decisions. We are purely logical, even when parts of our culture appear... otherwise.”
“I am from a very different type of society myself,” Jaskier shrugged. “But I’m sure you know enough about Betazed to understand what I mean. Now, about that dinner?”
They ordered their respective meals from the tableside replicator and chatted as they ate, discussing a wide range of topics. Eventually they landed on: “Vulcan poetry! I’d love to hear some, if you’ve got anything memorized!”
Geralt gave a decent recitation of his favorite childhood poem - the nonsensical story of a young man who could speak to the stars - and watched as Jaskier’s eyes grew round. He knew this expression to be one of adoration or wonder, but he could not sense emotions, and could not parse out the Counselor’s exact reaction. Instead he asked: “Yourself?”
“Betazed has many great poets,” Jaskier mused. “But they’re always so truthful about everything. There’s no mystery in our art, no room for subjective interpretation. I like poems with nuance and insecurity and feeling. I can’t recite it because the written formatting is so integral to its message, but ‘How Do I Love You’ by the renowned human poet Mary Oliver always tangles my heart around itself like a web of yarn. To end the poem with ‘no more words now’ and no punctuation is… enlightening.”
Geralt nodded, adding that information to the bank of details he knew about Counselor Pankratz. “Her work sounds fascinating.”
“Perhaps I could show you my volume of her collected poetry? I’d love to hear your thoughts on the subject.”
“I would be honored,” Geralt nodded, standing from the table and gesturing for Jaskier to lead the way. Counselor Pankratz stood and took Geralt’s hand in his own, interlacing their fingers as casually as anything.
The Commander startled and yanked his arm back without thinking, his mind reeling from the intimacy of such an embrace. Hand touching was… it was… what Jaskier had just done on instinct was far more intimate than anything Geralt had experienced before. The half-Vulcan’s emotions were running wildly away from his firm control.
Jaskier’s face crumpled when he registered Geralt’s rejection and he took a step back. “Oh, my apologies, Commander. I’m sincerely sorry for whatever offense I have committed.”
“It’s not an offense it’s just that-” Geralt took a deep breath to steady himself “-touching hands is not something a Vulcan does casually. It is a very meaningful and personal gesture on my planet.”
“That particular detail of your heritage slipped my mind in my excitement,” the Counselor bowed shallowly, his pretty blue shawl nearly slipping off one slender shoulder. “My continued apologies, Commander. I hope you can forgive me.”
“It was an accident,” Geralt replied. “And there is nothing to forgive. It pleases me that you were comfortable enough to treat me as a friend, Jaskier.”
“You called me by my name! That means you must forgive me. Now, are you still interested in seeing those poems?”
Geralt smiled, that warm joyful feeling spreading out through his limbs once again at the sight of Jaskier’s giddy grin. “Lead the way.”
Stardate 47653.52
Jaskier squared his shoulders and leaned over one of the Engineering monitors, “Computer, load Bridge Officer's test, Engineering qualification section one.”
“Computer ready.”
“Run programme.”
Lambert spoke up from beside him, the colors on his monitor flashing and shifting: “The control system for the primary containment field is not functioning.”
Geralt’s head snapped up and he locked eyes with Jaskier. “Something's severed the ODN conduit between here and the antimatter storage deck.”
Jaskier realized what was happening and felt a rush of icy anxiety down the length of his spine. “Geralt, could you repair the ODN conduit if you used the crawlspace between decks?”
Lambert frowned. “Sir, that crawlway is in a warp-plasma shaft. He would never survive the radiation.”
“I know that,” Jaskier snapped, trying to keep a level head. Even if this was just a simulation, he hated the idea of sending Geralt to his death. It was the most horrifying thought in the universe, but Geralt was the only one whose expertise could save the ship. And the hundreds of others aboard that ship. “Still, I’m afraid that particular information doesn’t change anything. Geralt, can you repair the conduit?”
The Science Officer nodded once, his face as unmoving as ever. “Yes, Sir.”
“Then do it. That's an order.”
Geralt grabbed a toolbox off the table, turned, and ducked into one of the Jeffries tubes that led to the crawl ducts.
Lambert laughed with glee as he slapped his hand down over one of the glowing instructional panels. “End simulation! Well, Officer Pankratz, I’d like to be the first to offer my official congratulations on your new promotion. You passed!”
Jaskier breathed shakily and smiled over at Geralt, who had returned to his position at the secondary control panel. “That's what this was all about, wasn't it? To see if I could order someone to their death. Someone… Someone I care about.”
Geralt nodded. “That's right.”
“I know that sacrifice is part of being in command and I thought I was prepared for it, but when the moment came... I hesitated. Maybe I shouldn’t have applied in the first place. I don’t know that I could ever hurt y- uh, hurt a fellow crew member, even in an emergency situation.”
“You did exactly what you had to do,” Geralt intoned, taking Jaskier gently by the hand. Jaskier gasped at the gesture, knowing exactly what kind of cultural lines Geralt was crossing for a Vulcan. Lambert disappeared from the room, finally showing his gentlemanly side, and Geralt continued in his low gravelly voice: “You considered all your options, tried every alternative, and then made the hardest but most logical choice a good Captain can make. Now, let's get out of here, Commander. Let me take you to Ten Forward to celebrate.”
Geralt had turned to make for the door but Jaskier tugged him back again, keeping both of his own feet planted firmly on the carpet. “Wait a moment, please?”
Geralt slowly spun to face Jaskier, one of his slanted eyebrows raised in curiosity. “Yes, Commander?”
“Stop calling me that,” Jaskier landed a limp-wristed slap to the Science Officer’s chest with his free hand. Geralt felt the urge to smile and allowed himself the indulgence; it was well worth the sunny grin that Jaskier gave him in return. “Anyway, Officer deRiv… There’s something I need to tell you.”
“I like you, too.”
“This may sound odd but I’m a highly emotional being and I- Wait, what?”
“You are incredibly sweet, Counselor Pankratz, and very kind. You care deeply for those around you and always do your best to help them find peace for themselves. I find those to be admirable traits, logically appealing in a mate, and I also find you… rather pretty.”
Jaskier’s eyes were nebulas, two sparkling pools of endless blue that twinkled and shone as if filled with the very stars themselves. Geralt’s heart raced as he brought their linked hands up and brushed his warm lips against the back of Jaskier’s knuckles. The Betazoid bit his lip, flushed an even deeper pink, and whispered his request: “May I kiss you, Imzadi?”
“We’re already kissing,” Geralt glanced down at their joined hands.
“According to Vulcans, yes,” Jaskier’s smile widened. “But may I kiss you according to my traditions?”
“Yes,” Geralt agreed, leaning forward to meet Jaskier halfway. The newly minted Commander released Geralt’s hand in order to tangle his fingers in the taller man’s silvery hair. He kissed Geralt with everything he had, pushing his feelings across the difference in their telepathic wavelengths, desperate to make himself clear. Make himself known.
When they pulled apart for air, Geralt was grinning. “Kissing for such a long time is completely illogical…”
Jaskier felt his heart drop into his shoes.
And then Geralt’s hands were on his waist, pulling him in again, rumbling laughter carrying the Vulcan’s next words, “Do it again!”