Late Night Conversations - Part 5
Fanfiction _ SeaQuest
Fictober 2022/ Prompt #22: “Who said this is a good idea?”
Fictober 2022/ Prompt #27: “That’s not why we’re doing this.”
Summary: Tim and Annabelle get trapped on the Mag-Lev at an inopportune time. They play truth or dare to take their mind off the situation.
Author’s Note: Another double post because I’m still getting over this stinking cold.
……...
“We’re gonna die in here.” It was more of a grumble than anything else. A chance for Tim O’Neill to grouse and complain because he was frustrated with his current situation, and his current company.
“We’re not gonna die in here, Tim. Don’t be so dramatic.” Annabelle grimaced as she walked around the Mag-Lev for the tenth time. There had to be a way out, but she had yet to find it, and Tim wasn’t exactly being helpful. “If Lonnie were here we’d be outta this thing already.”
Thankfully, the Lieutenant and the rest of the Bridge crew knew O’Neill and Harris were stuck in the Mag-Lev. Unfortunately, they currently had their hands busy.
“The crew’s at battle stations, and we’re stuck who knows where on the Mag-Lev line. That doesn’t concern you at all?” His tone, much like his recent demeanor was harsh and cold. Annabelle wanted to snap back a quick retort, but she bit her tongue. Tim wasn’t exactly at fault here.
She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and counted to ten. “Just… take a deep breath, okay?”
“You take a deep breath,” he muttered under his breath. Annabelle turned her back so Tim couldn’t see her rolling her eyes. A loud boom echoed overhead, and Annabelle staggered, trying hard to maintain her balance.
“There should be seat belts on this thing, right?” Annabelle asked, regaining her footing.
“I don’t know, I never looked,” Tim said, looking now. “Maybe we should - .” His words were cut off as he and Annabelle both were tossed hard by another exterior impact. Tim grunted as he hit the ground, laying there for a moment to see if another blast was coming. Adjusting his glasses, he looked up to see Annabelle lying on her side ahead of him. For a moment icy panic stabbed his chest. “Annabelle? Belle?” She didn’t reply, and he frowned, moving to her side.
“I’m okay,” she said softly as he leaned over her, his concern evident.
“You’re bleeding.” He reached up to touch her forehead, and she winced. “Sorry. Doesn’t look too bad.” He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket, gently pressing against the wound. She winced again, drawing a sharp breath through her teeth. “Sorry.” She noted he actually did sound sorry.
“It’s okay.” She gave him a weak smile. “I always thought you were the kinda guy to carry a handkerchief.”
Tim held the cloth against her head, his lips curling to the side ever so slightly. “You can thank my grandfather. He insisted, and the habit just stuck.” He was silent for a moment, staring down at the Ensign with an affection she hadn’t seen in weeks. “Why didn’t you come see me while I was in Sick Bay?”
Annabelle closed her eyes. After the “Dead End” mission, as the crew had lovingly termed it, Tim’s stay in Sick Bay had been extended. Everyone had stopped by to see him – Ortiz, Piccolo, Brody, Ford, Henderson, Dagwood, Lucas, Bridger. Everyone, but Annabelle. “Tim, please.”
“I thought we were… friends.” He said the word so tentatively - it shouldn’t have hurt so much.
Annabelle opened her eyes, gazing back up at him. His eyes were so dark, so pensive and expressive; she could read him so well just looking into them, and right now she read something akin to anguish. She’d worked hard to distance herself from him after her breakdown on Miguel, and it had hurt, but not nearly as much as the wounded look in his eyes right now. “We are friends, Tim.”
Another crash, followed shortly by a loud boom. Tim braced himself protectively over Annabelle, ducking his head, and gritting his teeth. The lights in the Mag-Lev flickered, then went out, with only the emergency lights on the floor offering a small reprieve from the sudden darkness. The boat shifted to the side, and Annabelle reached up instinctively, throwing her arms around Tim as they were tossed to the opposite side of the room, slamming hard into the door.
Annabelle grunted, noting a sharp pain in her shoulder from the impact. “Pretty sure the ship’s not supposed to move like that,” she mumbled into his chest. He was clutching her as tightly as she was him. “You okay?”
Tim gasped. “Yeah, yeah, I think so.” He let out a frustrated grunt. “I just got off those crutches. I don’t want to go back on.”
“This’ll be over soon, I’m sure,” Annabelle assured him, trying to assuage her own fears. They would be fine, they always were. This wasn’t where she was going to die.
Yet, she still clung to O’Neill like he was a life raft, and she was drowning. He was holding her, too, showing no desire to let go. “And if it’s not?” His words broke through her thoughts, and she unintentionally snugged closer, her head resting where his neck and shoulder met. He trembled over her, and she was thankful for the darkness – he wouldn’t want her to see him like this.
But she could still hear the fear in his voice. Annabelle took a low, steady breath. She knew mentally he was right back in that pit, the threat of rushing water imminent; she knew that feeling, and she knew what worked to distract her in those moments. “Truth or dare, Tim?”
“Wh...what?”
“C’mon. We’re stuck here for awhile. It’ll take our minds - ,”another boom, more shaking. Annabelle took a shaky breath, burrowing closer to him. When she spoke again her voice sounded small and timid. “It’ll take our minds off this.”
Tim shuddered against her. “I don’t know it that’s a good idea.”
“That’s not why we’re doing this, O’Neill. C’mon. What do you say?”
“I wouldn’t even know what to ask,” he grumbled, and she hoped he couldn’t see her rolling her eyes.
“Ask anything you want – that’s the fun of the game,” Annabelle said, grinning. “The Slumber Party gods have ordained you must be one hundred percent truthful, and everything we say stays right here in the Mag-Lev between us. So what do you say, O’Neill?”
Tim was silent for a minute, finally giving a deep sigh. “Fine.”
Annabelle felt a thrill of elation rush through her, and she was glad she was laying down because her head was swimming. “Yay! Okay, truth or dare?”
Tim let out an exasperated sigh before conceding. “Truth.”
“Um...okay! Have you ever cheated on anyone you were dating?”
Annabelle was sure if the lights were on she’d see a look of indignation and shock on the Lieutenant’s face. “Absolutely not! How could you even - ,” she cut him off with a chuckle.
“That’s the game, Tim. You ask all the things you normally wouldn’t ask in a normal lunchtime conversation.” She paused. “Unless you’re Tony; then all bets are off.”
Tim laughed. “Fair enough. Truth or dare?”
“Truth.”
“Why didn’t you come visit me when I was in Sick Bay?”
Annabelle let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding, but she’d started this game, and she would honor the stupid rules because maybe – just maybe – they were going to die here. “Because it brought up some old memories I’d buried, and I’ve been struggling to cope with them.” She paused. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Tim. I never want to hurt you.” She was silent for a moment, knowing her answer wouldn’t completely satisfy him, but finally he nodded. He’d accepted her answer - for now. “Truth or dare?”
“Truth.”
“Have you ever committed a crime?”
“Y’know, these questions are really making me wonder exactly what you think of me,” he drawled, sarcasm so thick she tilted her head back, laughing. She imagined his smile above her as he chuckled. “No, I have never committed a crime. Truth or dare?”
“Truth.”
“Who’s your favorite person on board?”
“Oh, Dagwood. Hands down. He’s in my top ten favorite people ever.”
Tim laughed. “You have a list?”
“I have lists for everything. I love them.”
Tim grew quiet for a moment before softly saying, “Me too.”
“Truth or dare, Tim?”
“Truth.”
“Who’s your favorite person on board?” She was smiling when she asked because she was certain he would say Dagwood, too. Instead, there was a long pause. He lowered his head, resting it on the floor above her shoulder. Finally, he raised his head enough where she could see a slight outline of his face. In the dim light from the floor his face was bathed in shadows, a slight orange glow emphasizing his cheekbone and strong jaw from one side. She wondered just how much of her he could see.
“I’d always thought it was Dagwood, but now…,” he trailed off, and she held her breath. “Now I’m not so sure. Truth or dare?”
“Truth.”
“If I asked you on a date would you say yes?” No pause, no hesitation.
Annabelle’s heart was pounding so hard she was certain he could hear it. Her mouth suddenly felt very dry, and she flicked her tongue out to wet her lips. Tim froze above her, and his breath hitched. Surely it wasn’t…
“Yes.” She didn’t mean for it to come out as a whisper, but she was somewhere between panic and glee at what was currently unfolding. They were lying together in the dark, clinging to one another with potential imminent doom, and all she could think about was how warm he was, how strong his broad shoulders felt under her fingers, and how good he smelled.
“Truth or dare, Tim?” Still a whisper, still so intimate.
“Truth.” His voice was raspy and soft.
“Do you want to ask me on a date?”
“I think you know the answer to that,” he rasped. She opened her mouth to protest, but he quickly added, “Miguel said I was very… chatty on those meds Smith gave me.” Annabelle’s eyes widened as she sucked in a deep breath. “Truth or dare, Annabelle?”
“Truth.”
He leaned down so he could breath his question into her ear. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to be this close to you, to feel the way I feel about you, and not do anything about it?”
Her breath hitched, and she grasped his shoulders tighter. The darkness – or maybe the threat of death again – had emboldened him. The sweet, nerdy, respectable Communication’s Officer would never say those things to her in the light of day.
… at least… not yet. He didn’t need an answer – he was looking for permission. “Truth or dare, Tim?”
“Dare.” His voice was raspy and soft.
“Dare?” Annabelle breathed. “Who said this was a good idea?” She said it more to herself than to him, because the logic part of her mind was screaming that it was absolutely NOT a good idea.
“You did when you suggested the game, remember?” Annabelle couldn’t read Tim’s eyes in this darkness, and as he pressed down into her she wondered if she really wanted to. She’s never heard his voice so low. She felt a flutter in her stomach that seemed wildly inappropriate considering their current circumstances. “Dare, Annabelle.”
She had thought about this dozens of times, typically while lying in bed, replaying every interaction they’d had that day. Every expression, every tone, counting all the things that might suggest he felt a fraction of what she felt for him. She’d convinced herself after her Sick Bay breakdown they would both be better off going their own way, but now she wondered what she’d been thinking.
Screw it.
“Whatever it is you want to do or say right now, Tim, do it.”
She could feel his smile as he shifted over her, sliding a hand up and over her hair, tugging gently at the hair tie that held her braid together. The same hand slid up, supporting her neck and head, fingers lightly tugging at her dark strands. His other hand shifted so he could stroke her cheek, and her breath hitched. “Whatever I want?” He leaned in, breathing the words across her lips, and she shuddered under him.
Tim O’Neill, known for his intellect, his deep convictions, and his old-fashioned, gentlemanly ways, was making her burn in ways she didn’t think were still possible. Just by undoing her hair, and stroking her cheek. She whimpered under him, arching as his fingers moved from her cheek to her jaw, steadily heading for her neck. “Tim.”
The pounding on the Mag-Lev doors brought them back to reality, both jumping in surprise. “O’Neill? Harris? Can you hear me?” Ford’s voice was loud and clear.
Tim let his head hang as he let out a deep sigh of frustration. “Damnit,” he muttered under his breath. “We’re here, Commander,” he called back, reluctantly pulling away from the brunette under him.
“To be continued?” Annabelle asked coyly, braver in the darkened room.
Tim leaned back down, voice rougher than he’d intended. “You can count on it.”
