Work Text:
The pounding on that place behind her eyes came first. Then the awareness that she was naked.
That was a bad sign. Number One did not sleep naked.
Next was the fact that she was laying on her stomach, face half buried in a pillow, and that she was not completely bare; her lower half was tangled in the sheets. Kicking at them to try and (unsuccessfully) untangle herself, Number One moaned and pushed herself up to roll over and untangle herself properly.
It was the sympathetic grumble that made her freeze mid push-up. Number One closed her eyes and forced herself to take a few calming breaths before opening them again and looking to her side.
Her arms almost collapse beneath her.
Christopher. That was Christopher. Even with messy hair, half buried in a pillow, unshaven, One would know that man anywhere. The pain between her eyes growing, she took stock of her captain.
His upper half was naked, the sculpted curve of his back muscles rippling under his skin as he breathed. Catching herself staring at his exposed bicep, she closed her eyes again and ran through the computer protocols for overriding the system during a level five ship takeover. Only when she had replaced the image of that naked skin with the lines of code and she could trust that it wasn’t going to waver did she open them again.
One decided to be grateful that the sheets fully covered Chris’s lower half, making it difficult to determine whether he was as naked as she was. Concluding that spending the time to figure it out being a bad idea, she shifted her weight onto one forearm and shoved at Chris’s shoulder with the other.
The man mumbled something, but One was too busy staring at her hand to understand. That was a ring on her finger. A ring she had not been wearing before. But it wasn’t an unfamiliar ring; oh no, she knew that ring. She had never seen it before, but it had been described to her.
The shove on Chris’s shoulder was rougher this time, and she snapped, “Chris, wake up.” The man grumbled unhappily - his head must hurt as bad as hers - but he ran a hand over his face rolled over to face her. The sheets shifted as he did and One refused to look down.
Christopher’s eyes were bleary, but a happy light accompanied the spark of recognition in his eyes. “Mornin’, One,” he croaked, shifting to wrap an arm around her waist to tug her closer. She wiggled away though; she couldn’t afford to be distracted right now, not until she’d solved this problem, and if she was pulled close to that broad chest with its light dusting of hair, those muscles a finger’s length away-
NO.
"Chris, why is your family ring on my finger." She was frowning at him, riffling through her memories of last night, what little there were. That wasn’t accurate, though; there were lots of memories, but they were fragmented.
There had been people and music, then food and alcohol, and swirling lights and more alcohol and dancing; his warm hand on the small of her back, his breath hot on her ear, the starlight above matched with the damp smell of the air off the bay. Pebbles crunching underfoot as she ran along the shore of the Presidio, trying to escape him, laughter as he snagged her around the waist, claiming a kiss as his prize. And then another. And another. More laughter interspersed between too warm kisses as they behaved like cadets, struggling to remember to make it through the door of Chris’s flat before shedding clothing. After that…
One put a hand to her temple to ground herself, to make the room stop spinning around her. What had they - they had danced around this for months, years, balanced on that edge between captain and first officer, best friends, a more than occasional flirtation. But to cross that line now, of all times!
Chris had accepted a position at the Academy, teaching until the Enterprise was completed, while Number One was the new Captain of the Leonid, headed out to the farthest flung reaches of the Neutral Zone in less than a fortnight. Now was the worst time for this.
A calloused hand was taking hers, drawing it away from her temple, wrapping around it and pulling it to his chest, forcing her to scoot closer. “One, ” Chris said, pressing a kiss to her hand, spreading out her fingers to kiss them each individually before pausing to look at the ring on her finger.
"Well," he says at a moment. "It fits." He looks up to her. "Good. I was a bit worried about that." He smiles and Number One wants to smack him and kick him out of bed. And kiss that stupid smile off his face.
It must have shown on her face for once, that mixture of fury, embarrassment confusion, and sadness, because Chris’s smile faded into worry. “Number One,” he murmurs softly, raising a hand to caress her cheek, “hey, what’s wrong?”
She shakes her head, pulling away from his hand. “Chris…I am leaving.” Flying out into the black, light years again, to tangle with Klingons and unknowns. She might not be coming back. And he was staying here, to tumble with cadets and academics; for all the dangers they posed, he was sure to survive. To do this to him…
"Is that all?" One glanced back up to Chris, and glared at the smile which had reappeared. "I know, One. I told you last night that I know, but I think you celebrated a little too much." He was teasing her, his eyes dancing with mirth. This time she did actually smack him, and kept smacking him until he grabbed her wrists and rolled her over onto her back so he was hovering over her.
"Stop that." Chris’s expression and tone had gone grave, but there was a gentleness to it still. "Number One, I know you are leaving. You are going to be out there, and who knows how long it will be before I can see you again, to hold you like this." He pressed his lower half to hers, and One squirmed. "That’s why I had to do this. Now or never." The smile came back, but it was dusted with nervousness.
"I love you, Number One." He didn’t shorten her name in the way she only let him. "And you love me." There was that cockiness that made her let out a small frustrated humph that only made him smile more; he at least had the restraint to keep from reminding her how adamant she’d been about that fact last night.
"I’m not going to forget you while you are out there," he told her gravely, reaching for her hand. Pulling it back to his chest, he splayed out the fingers so she had to look at the ring again. "And I don’t want you to forget me. So I gave you this." He kisses the tip of her ring finger. "Every time you look at it, you will think of me and remember that you have something to come home to. So you better come home."
One didn’t know how to respond to that, and if she did, it would have been hard to say it around the lump in her throat. Swallowing it down, she managed to say, “No marriage?” and was rewarded with an urge to smack him some more when he laughed.
"No, no marriage, no engagement I like living too much, and you would have killed me." He knew her too well. "Just a promise, Number One." He placed a swift kiss to the tip of her nose, and then drew back again, eyes sparkling to say, "Is that Acceptable, One?"
She glared at him, and it had all of its usual strength. “Yes,” she said. She might have been pouting, more than glaring at that moment.
God the things this man did to her. Number One did not pout.
Except for Christopher Pike.
And the man, blast him to the next galaxy, knew it. “Good,” he said with a grin, kissing her thoroughly before trailing small kissed down her neck before dedicating himself to helping fill in those missing gaps of last night.