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Her fingers trailed along the doctor’s bare leg, eliciting a soft giggle from the redhead. “You know, Vash,” Picard began in his most paternal tone.
“Here we go again,” Vash groaned as she slid up the length of the doctor’s body, burying her face in the her soft, red hair.
“Vash,” Beverly teased as the woman’s breath tickled her neck. “You haven’t been sent to the principal’s office.”
“Between that tone and your maternal looks, how does anyone on this ship get anything done?” Vash asked rhetorically as she curled around the redhead’s torso, content to be close to her.
“We run a tight ship,” Picard informed her with a smile. “As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted--”
“Please, continue,” Vash teased.
“Yes, Jean-Luc, we’re hanging on to your every word,” Beverly added as she tossed her brightest smile over her shoulder at him. The frown lines on his face deepened and both women giggled, clearly enjoying his discomfort.
“As I was saying,” he echoed, determinedly ignoring the fact that they had simultaneously turned on him. He had hoped for Beverly’s support in this conversation. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to continue your… profession.” The word fell from his lips reluctantly, like a child broaching the subject of a broken vase with a stern parent.
Vash looked up, blue eyes sharp and angry. “My profession?” she asked.
Long, gentle fingers stroked the dark hair out of Vash’s eyes as Beverly calmly mediated wordlessly. Picard let his attention slip from the “archaeologist” to the doctor, silently admiring her effortless transition from Vash’s compatriot to the neutral party. “Yes,” Picard replied, refocusing on Vash’s glare.
“It’s what I do, Jean-Luc. You knew that when you met me. I’ve been nothing but candid about my job. Well--with a few exceptions.”
“Mm,” he hummed as they continued to stare at each other over Beverly who was, quite literally, in the middle of their discussion. “But I’m certain we could find you an alternate revenue source…”
“You want me to be your trophy girlfriend?” She laughed loudly and rolled slightly away from Beverly and Picard. “Not a chance. I don’t change who I am for anyone.”
“Jean-Luc doesn’t mean that,” Beverly said evenly. Her look at her captain added a silent threat that indicated what the cost of disagreeing with her might be. “He is concerned for your safety.”
“I can take care of myself,” Vash insisted.
Beverly turned to press a kiss to Vash’s indignant lips. “We know you can.”
“We… I… worry,” he admitted, sounding nearly embarrassed by the thought that he, Captain of the Flagship of the Federation, could worry over the life of a single person.
“I always worry,” Beverly added cheerfully, softening both his embarrassment and Vash’s indignance with an affectionate smile. Picard couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face; he had never thought a relationship with Vash would work out but Beverly seemed to balance them and she eased the tension effortlessly. Likewise, he had never dreamt that he could, one day, share his bed with Beverly. They had both been far too careful to act on impulse and it was Vash who had dragged them forcefully together.
Vash frowned and eyed Picard carefully. “What do you suggest, Captain?” she asked in a tone that would be more at home in the mouth of a Romulan.
“Well. There are several positions aboard the Enterprise--”
“Not happening,” Vash stated flatly.
“But--” Picard stammered, meeting her gaze over Beverly’s fair shoulder. He was suddenly glad that there was a Human barrier between the two of them; he would hate to feel Vash’s wrath without the calming presence of the ship’s doctor. And, this way, he had a medical professional close at hand if Vash did indeed manage to injure him with a look. “You could stay with us,” he added helpfully. “You would be able to spend more time with us, and we would be able to spend more time with you.”
Vash’s eyes narrowed. She wasn’t in the habit of trusting anyone and now that she had two people to love and trust… it was a bit disorienting to say the least. “The Federation would never approve.”
“The Federation be damned,” Picard stated, chest puffing indignantly.
“Vash is right,” Beverly said gently. “The Federation would never approve of her working for Starfleet. Not with her record.”
“But you should still straighten yourself out. You never know when another faction like the Ferengi or the Breen or Klingons will take heed of your activities and then…” He reached out as if to touch her, settling on placing his hand on Beverly’s waist, near but not quite resting against Vash.
“I would hate to lose you,” Beverly said sincerely, turning her gaze upon the younger of her lovers. Her fingers brushed against Vash’s ear before tugging her close for a lingering, fond kiss.
“You both live dangerous lives,” Vash protested even as she leaned in for another kiss, capturing Beverly’s lips with her own, distinctly aware that Picard was watching them carefully.
“I’m a doctor,” the redhead protested with a grin. “What could be safer?”
“And I, a bureaucrat,” Picard added, following Beverly’s lead.
“And I’m an archaeologist,” Vash quipped. Her hand slid onto Beverly’s waist and she twined her fingers with the captain’s, a silent apology. “But I’m not living on your ship.”
“We could compromise,” Beverly suggested. Her leg swung casually over her captain’s, tugging him closer to her back. “You won’t work on the Enterprise but perhaps we could figure something else out.”
“Something ethical,” Picard added.
“And what, exactly, would you deem ethical?” Vash asked, mimicking his pronunciation of the word and making Beverly giggle.
“Something that doesn’t involve theft.”
“He wants you to be safe,” Beverly clarified.
“Safety is relative,” Vash said pointedly.
“True,” Beverly agreed. “As are ethics and morality.”
“Ferenginar would appreciate my acquisition of profit.”
“Ah, but they’d disapprove of your gender,” Picard added.
“What you’re suggesting is incredibly ethnocentric, Jean-Luc,” Vash pointed out.
“But when applied to a person inside the same culture as the researcher, ethnocentrism is no longer an issue. I cannot judge you unfairly against my own culture because we have the same culture.”
“I would disagree,” Beverly mused, cheerfully joining in on the banter. “You’re assuming that Humanity is one homogenous culture. And you’d be wrong--what about the Maquis? Or the few remaining extremist groups who are against anything that isn’t what they consider appropriate for Humanity?”
“Even between the three of us,” Vash continued, eagerly running with the doctor’s line of thought, “there are three different cultures.”
“But, according to the Prime Directive, we would all fall under a single culture,” Picard protested good-naturedly.
“The Prime Directive leaves a lot to be desired, Jean-Luc,” Beverly added helpfully.
“And who is to say that the Prime Directive is appropriate in this case?” Vash asked. “You can’t classify an entire species as a single culture. Surely you can’t be that ignorant.” There was a teasing tone in her voice but he rose to the bait anyways.
“The Prime Directive an essential part of Starfleet’s code!” Picard began, attempting to wave his free hand for emphasis but his position on the bed made it difficult for him to accurately gesticulate. “We need laws to live by, a set of rules to pledge our loyalty to! You could say the same of Beverly’s profession. The Hippocratic oath: first, do no harm. And yet she is a member of Starfleet, an arguably militant organization. Should she be banned from holding a phaser simply because her profession states that she should “do not harm”?”
“Your point, Jean-Luc?” Beverly asked as he inhaled to continue his speech.
“Our species is flawed; if one searches, one could find the cracks in any law or code. We are fallible. It is a part of being Human.”
“And part of being Human is a range of culture, of ethics. Taboo on Earth is different than taboo on certain colonies,” Vash said. “You shouldn’t dismiss someone’s code of ethics simply because they don’t match your own.”
“And we were discussing safety, not ethics,” Beverly interjected as she sensed Picard readying himself for Round 2.
“Safety is as relative as ethics,” Vash replied coolly.
“That isn’t true and you know it,” the redhead accused sternly. “You’re quite impressive when you want to talk around a subject,” her hand reached up to cup Vash’s cheek fondly, “but you won’t pull me away from the point.”
“It’s unfair when it’s two against one,” Vash pouted.
“I could say the same about you two,” Picard grumbled.
Beverly flashed a smile over her shoulder. “We’re always fair with you, Jean-Luc.”
He scoffed, disbelief clear in that single exhalation. “You two thrive in torturing me,” he replied, aloof and yet still somehow sincere.
“You know, we never team up on Beverly, Jean-Luc,” Vash observed with a wicked look.
“That’s because I’m the neutral party,” the doctor replied.
“I do believe you are on to something, Vash,” Picard said thoughtfully. The hand on her waist slid up her bare skin, lingering under her breast. “I do believe we owe her.”
“Jean-Luc!” Beverly squeaked before Vash leaned forward to kiss her, cutting off the rest of her sentence. “We were,” she began as Vash pulled away to trail kisses down her neck, “discussing ethics.”