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They'd left the Brea system at high warp, eager to be away. Every time they fixed one problem, more seemed to arise in their wake and this latest was a doozie, or so the Starfleet contact had said after they watched Sela - Empress of the tattered remains of the old Star Empire - and her warbird dragged off to Elements know what by, well they could only presume it was an Iconian ship. Iconians! He felt his hair stand on end like some insane conspiracy theorist when he said it, even to himself. It sounded almost as ridiculous now as when Obisek first spoke of ‘demons of air and darkness,’ except he’d seen too much now to just dismiss them as the mad ramblings of a desperate man, like he once had.
The journey back to the Flotilla would give them a few hours respite from all that nonsense though, and it wasn't really an optional trip either: they desperately needed to restock on supplies, fuel and weapons; were carrying prisoners of war that would need to be interrogated by professionals at HQ, and they had an infirmary full of critically wounded that needed better care than their limited facilities and staff allowed, not to mention the scrapes and bumps more than half the crew had, or the damage Kestraal had taken. They'd won, but if the battle had lasted any longer it could easily have been a different story.
Admiral Joben A'Ran, commander of the Republic Warbird Kestraal was drained. He hadn't felt this worn out since... well, last week actually, and damn, what a horrifying realisation that is. He hadn't finished writing his after-action reports for Kererek and D'Tan, and was literally falling asleep at the con when Hiven all but burst onto the bridge. Most of the other officers had long gone below and were probably all asleep by now, leaving A'Ran alone with the "night shift", who were all either far too green or far too proper to try telling their commanding officer to go to bed. Unfortunately for A’Ran, Hiven didn't seem to suffer that issue, or “foolish workaholic heroes that don’t know how to look after themselves”.
A few minutes and only one threat of being left to Chief Medical Officer Satra's ruthless ministration later, Hiven had successfully managed to bully A’Ran into the turbo lift, down to his quarters, stripped him to his small clothes, cleaned up the worst of his cuts and grazes from the fight with Hakeev, harangued him into a pair of soft trousers that looked suspiciously like they were once Tovan’s, and bundled him into bed; grumbling all the while about self-sacrificing idiots and something about hanging paper moons. In fact, A’Ran was only absently aware of the other man physically climbing across him to the other side of the bunk.
Sure, academically, A’Ran knew they both had their own separate bunks, and the Militia was still so short on manpower that even the lowliest crewman on the Kestraal had private quarters, but Hiven’s berth was empty more nights than not. Nobody had actually confronted them about this yet, and they hadn’t broached the topic with anybody either, and technically the Militia had no regulations about fraternisation between the ranks, so why bother? Besides, it’s not like they ever actually did anything... other than cuddle.
Propping up the bar till the small hours every night and drinking away their sorrows together had turned into the arguably healthier practice of a lunchtime coffee-break leaning into each other’s side on the bench by the hydroponics bay, then a few days later into hugs in the turbolift, and then to cuddles in bed a week after that. He might have been a few years younger, and an inch shorter, but Hiven was big. Broad shoulders, lots of muscle and just a little softness made for a very pleasant snuggle, and the man was a walking space heater to boot. And there’s certainly nothing wrong if the occasional late-night snuggle session happens involve maybe a little chaste kissing every now and then. Tovan has no room to complain with the way he follows Veril around engineering like a lovesick nanov.
Anyway, A’Ran was asleep before Hiven’s head hit the pillow, didn’t even register the fond kiss placed next to the burgeoning bruise on his forehead as he snuggled into the warm body beside him. He was so peaceful that Hiven even allowed himself to hope it would be a nice, calm and quiet night where they’d all get some decent rest. Elements knew they deserved it. And they did, for a while.
***
A choked-off yell broke the silence, and A’Ran sat bolt upright, breath coming in heaving gasps. He blinked, but it did nothing to dislodge the images seared into his brain, so he screwed his eyes shut and tried to bring his breathing under control whilst the afterimage of explosions and plasma fire replayed through his head to a soundtrack of screaming children and farmers. He was so focused on the inside of his skull that he didn’t feel the mattress shift beneath him and was startled to feel a warm body wrap around him from behind, one arm snaking around his waist and another coming to a stop around his chest, hands on his stomach and sternum, pressing him back into the embrace.
“Breathe for me, Starstuff.” A deep voice said quietly in his left ear, and it took him a few moments to recognise the owner. The gentle pressure against his sternum increased a little, allowing him to feel the pressure and release of Hiven’s chest against his back, the man’s breaths slow and controlled compared to his own’s frantic pace.
A minute went past and then another, but A’Ran’s breathing slowed down to match, the remembered carnage fading just as slowly from view as he relaxed into strong arms. “There we go, it’s okay, you’re safe. We’re all safe now, Starstuff.” Hiven was saying, murmuring reassurances, and he couldn’t stop the humourless laugh that huffed out of him. The great Hero of Virinat; Avenger of the Republic; Ha! I can't even sleep through a whole night without needing someone to hug away the nightmares. He thought to himself uncharitably, but he still let himself melt a little further into Hiven, bringing his own arms up and tugging the man’s thickly muscled arms around him tighter and pressing their heads together; taking as much comfort from the medic as he could.
And wasn’t this a thing. He’d literally rescued this man from a Tal’Shiar brig a little over three months ago, and they’d been sharing a bed - if only platonically - for nearly as long, drawn together by shared traumas at the hands of Hakeev and his minions, but kept together by a bond of affection that was so strong it scared him sometimes.
“Bad one, huh?” Hiven whispered as he gently stroked the stubble on his chin over the sensitive skin of A’Ran’s shoulder. Quiet as his voice was, in the near silence of their quarters, it was almost too loud.
“Yeah.” he sighed in response, turning his head just enough to place a gentle kiss on Hiven’s cheek. “I’m sorry I woke you.”
The other man hummed softly and began rocking him side to side gently. “You didn’t.”
And now A’Ran felt bad for sleeping through Hiven’s nightmares. “I’m sorry.”
“What for?”
“Everything.”
“You mean for the stuff you can’t control?”
“And the stuff I should have.”
Hiven rolled them back over to a laying position, rotating A’Ran to face him and shuffling them to intertwine their legs and press as close as he could before pressing a chaste kiss to A’Ran’s forehead. The bruising was fully out now and despite his care, it elicited a hiss from A’Ran. The fight had been brutal and Hiven didn’t want to know the extent of the bruising yet, so he pushed the worry aside. “Hey now, we’ve been over this. I know you couldn’t save him. My brother wasn’t like us, Lhaes wasn’t a fighter and you couldn’t beam him off the station because they had their shields up. If you’d brought him down to the brig instead, he’d have just died in the firefight to get out, only then I’d have had to watch it happen. You really have to let yourself off that hook eventually.”
I really don’t. A’Ran thought, but kept that to himself. It was an old argument, one he’d lost every time they had it, but he didn’t feel any better about it. Instead, he said “I wasn’t a fighter either. Nor were you, or Tovan, Veril, Satra. None of us were soldiers; almost everybody on this ship was a civilian before Hakeev...”
“And now he’s dead!” Hiven interrupted with finality, bringing a hand to gently caress the raised side of A’Ran’s face before continuing. “We saw to that. You saw to that. You and Obisek put guns to his head and pulled the triggers; I watched the footage from your own bodycam. He can’t hurt anyone ever again.” It was amazing how Hiven managed to make the word ‘anyone’ sound like he was saying 'you’. The man gazed into A’Ran’s eyes, heavy with unspoken pain, but bright with affection and determination.
“I love you!” A’Ran blurted out. He’d been thinking it for days now, was sure Hiven was it for him, ever since his abduction to the Coliseum. That experience was just one more trauma to add to his ever-growing list at the hands of Hakeev and the Tal’Shiar, but for the whole time he was there, he’d not been scared for himself once. Concerned about Slamek, sure. Anxious that they’d make it to the derelict freighter, of course. No, he’d only been terrified of one thing: that he’d never see this man again, so whilst he was sure it was far too soon in their relationship to be saying that kind of thing aloud, he wouldn’t, couldn’t take it back now he had.
Hiven’s eyes glittered with unshed tears as he took a deep unsteady breath in and out and A’Ran wasn’t sure how either of them had any tears left in them these days. The silence between them dragged on though, and he was starting to panicking he’d ruined the best thing in his life when Hiven leaned forwards and kissed him.
This was not one of the chaste kisses they’d been sharing for months though, this one was messy and dirty and suddenly the chill air wasn’t cold enough to drain the heat that was building between them. A’Ran tore their mouths apart to take a breath before he blacked out and happily noted how heavily the younger man was also panting now, not to mention the firm hot pressure against his stomach. “I love you too!” Hiven choked out between pants, laughing suddenly. “I’ve wanted to say that for weeks.” And A’Ran thought he might pass out again, but from happiness, the tears flowing freely from his own eyes and blurring Hiven’s features.
A’Ran leaned in for another kiss, but just then the ever-present hum of the ship’s engines dropped a little in pitch and volume, signalling they had dropped out of warp, and a moment later, his PADD started chirping softly in its vambrace holder. With a sigh, A’Ran tried to extricate himself from his lover and reach for it before whoever it was could get impatient and come down to interrupt in person, but Hiven grinned at him and wrestled him down, rolling on top and pinning him to the mattress, arms trapped behind his back. Despite shocked protest, Hiven used his heavier and stronger form to hold A’Ran still as a playful glint in his eye replaced the tearful joy from moments ago. The protest was only half-hearted though, as this position only served to increase the blistering pressure in their abdomens.
Rummaging on the floor with one hand, Hiven found the errant device and dropped it unceremoniously on A’Ran’s chest before answering it. “Commander A’Ran is not available right now.” he said into the device, a smirk taking over his face when he heard the poor officer on the other end cough. The burgeoning Republic may be taking the Qowat Milat’s lead and trying to be open and honest with itself, its people and allies, but some old habits die hard, and PDA’s and insinuations of intimacy were still taboo for some.
“Ah-hum, yes. Subcommander Hiven.” Came the distressed voice of Law. “Is Commander A’Ran … there?”
The trepidation in the old Centurian’s voice was palpable. This was not the first time he’d been teased by the younger officer for being a too stuffy and up-tight; Hiven, born after the supernovae, was every inch the ‘New Romulan’, Law not so much, though he was obviously trying.
A’Ran went to relieve the old man of further teasing, but found one of Hiven’s massive hands clamped firmly over his mouth as Hiven’s other quickly disappeared south and deftly slid beneath his trousers: a firm, warm grip encompassed him and pressing down. It happened so quick that A’Ran released the groan before he could stop himself, and there’s no way that Law missed it; he just hoped this was going to Law’s private comm and not the main bridge comms. The clatter of something being dropped in the background was not a good sign.
“I-I’ll, ah ... i-if you could please inform the Commander, that we have arrived at the flotilla to commence resupply, it would be most appreciated.”
“Why yes, I’ll pass it along when he’s coherent.” Hiven crooned, pausing a second before eliciting a further groan from A’Ran, who could only imagine how uncomfortable his next conversation with Law would be. The old man could at least be trusted to keep this to himself, but if it really was on the loudspeakers, the rest of the watch officers could not be counted upon for such discretion. He was already aware somebody (probably Veril) was holding a series of running bets on their relationship, but now the whole fleet would know about them before the deuterium tanks could be replenished.
“A-also, we have received urgent communiques from Obisek and Admiral Kererek both.”
“Noted. Thank you, Cent...” a terse beep signified that Law had closed the line. Hiven grinned wickedly as he tossed the PADD back on the floor. “How rude, he hung up on me. Oh well... back to business. If I’m not mistaken, I was about to ravish the man who hung paper moons to draw my dreams.” He ground down with his palm as he finally removed his hand from A’Ran’s mouth, looking down with glazed eyes. Amazingly he looked almost as undone as A’Ran felt, which was a feat, given A’Ran’s hands had not been on him, trapped beneath his body when Hiven rolled them over.
“You know we’re never living this down, right?” A’Ran asked as he leant up to try and catch Hiven’s lips with his own, but the broader man just pulled back and grinned down as he gripped A’Ran’s wrists and pinned them to the sides. He rolled his eyes playfully. “Not that I’m not enjoying this, but duty calls.” he said with a sigh, knowing too well that Kererek at least was not one to be kept waiting.
“Oh no. I barely managed to drag you off the bridge five hours ago, and we only left Obisek half hour before that. The Hero of Brea three is allowed at least six hours of down time, and now we have a rumour mill to justify.” Hiven said as he shifted A’Ran’s wrists above his head. Before A’Ran could complain about the new title being bestowed on him, Hiven used the improved leverage from their new position and ground his whole body down against his commanding officer, from chest to toes, finally slotting their lips and tongues back together.
His brain was short-circuiting, but A’Ran decided Hiven was right: he was allowed to be locked in his quarters for at least another hour, even if his ability to function for several after that was heavily in doubt.