Work Text:
from: Ward (GCI Admin)
to: Dr. Mrs. The Monarch
date: Today
subject: Re: Change of circumstances (ATTACHMENT)
Esteemed Councilwoman,
In reference to your previous communication, please find attached all forms necessary to officially register your extramonogamous situation. As Mr. The Monarch has already completed Guild-sanctioned commitment rituals with both yourself and Mr. Henchman 21, the red tape involved will be considerably reduced. In response to your query, yes, upon processing of relevant forms, both gentlemen will be granted all rights and privileges accorded to recognized spouses of Council members, including transportation and teleportation; diplomatic immunity; dental, vision, and X-ray vision plans; and access to the Meteor Majeure upstairs bathroom.
And on a personal note, allow me to be the first to congratulate you and your partners on the harmonious resolution of your eroto-romantic entanglements.
Most malicious regards,
Ward
GCI Dispatch Agent
p.s. Please accept my deepest apologies for any unauthorized blurting that may have occurred on Meteor Majeure w.r.t. classified Venture-Fitzcarraldo genealogical information. It is my sincere hope that this incident can be put behind us and that any applicable bygones may be gone by without necessity for official disciplinary action and/or official disciplinary flaying.
p.p.s. It wasn't me. I'm the other one.
Sheila, who had promised not to check her work email while they were on vacation and didn't want to get into explaining why this absolutely didn't count, quickly closed the tab at the sound of the hotel balcony door sliding open. Her husband stepped back inside, bringing with him a waft of warm, tropical sea breeze— a relaxing change from New York winter's bitter bite.
"That isn't..." he started, directing a warning finger at her laptop.
"Nope, not work," she replied innocently, tilting it towards him. "See? Netflix."
The Monarch sat down next to her on the bed, stretching out his legs beside hers and directing a dubious eye at the giant-headed Talosian menacing Captain Pike on the screen. The glittery strains of melodramatic 1960s orchestration drifted nostalgically through her laptop's tinny speaker.
"The way their head... vein-things pulsate totally skeeves me," he complained with a shudder. "Same reason I could never talk to Brainulo for more than five minutes." A moment passed. He leaned against her shoulder, and said more quietly, "It's been forever since we watched anything."
"I know," she admitted, feeling a twinge of guilt in her chest. "I always say I don't have time. I need to be better about it." She took his hand, rubbed it with her thumb. And then, on impulse, picked it up and brought it to her lips, kissing his knuckles as she looked into his slightly startled eyes. "But right now, this time... This is for us. All of us."
As if on cue, the hotel room door rattled, beeped, and came open, revealing Gary wearing an 'I Heart Cancún' T-shirt and speaking earnest, elementary Spanish to someone he was waving at down the hall.
"Gracias, Señor! I finally found the ice machine," he said, letting the door snap shut behind him. "Hey, did you guys know they have this massive, ridiculous water slide out there? It goes around, like, thirty times." He chuckled, shaking his head. "Awesome. I'm totally going on that later, and I don't even care if people look at me weird."
Gary set the full ice bucket down next to the TV, turned to them, and stopped, looking at them as if for the first time.
"Wow, you... really look great."
Surprised, Sheila glanced down at herself. She was wearing the same thing she'd had on all day, just a basic sundress. Wearing it felt good— being out of all that tight leather made her feel loose and light— but it wasn't anything special.
"Me, or him?" she asked, only half joking.
Looking from one of them to the other, Gary said simply, "Both of you. Together." He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh, sorry if that's a weird thing to say. I'm kind of still getting used to the whole..." He gestured between the three of them.
The Monarch scoffed dismissively, but Sheila could feel his hand heat up in hers.
"That's not a weird thing," she assured him. "It's a sweet thing." With her other hand, she crooked a finger, beckoning him over. "Come here."
Blushing a little, Gary sidled over to the bed, sat down, and slid off his flip-flops.
"Oh, sweet, we're rewatching The Original Series?" he asked, brightening as he craned his neck over at the laptop screen. "Wait, is this The Menagerie or The Cage?"
"The Menagerie," Sheila said, firmly pulling him closer; he clumsily lost his balance for a second before settling beside her. "Because, of course, the only thing better than watching a rejected pilot is Spock holding you hostage and forcing you to watch a rejected pilot."
He huffed a laugh. "Totally. I mean, I get the budget issues and wanting to use the footage, but... the Talosians weren't even really villains, more just gigantic trolls."
"Right? Psionic powers like that, and basically their entire scheme amounts to the galaxy's most elaborate failed blind date."
"Nerds," the Monarch muttered with loving scorn, close to her ear.
She felt more than heard Gary's chuckle, shaking gently against her side. "Dude, hypocrite much?"
"And acting like he doesn't love it," she added teasingly, rubbing the Monarch's bare thigh under his robe.
"Ganging up on me now," the Monarch groused, but then admitted in a murmur, nuzzling her cheek: "But I suppose it has been too long since we did the Orion slave girl."
"Yeah, because the sheets were green for three weeks!" Sheila laughed. "I don't know how you talked me into that one."
"Well, they do say that no human male can resist them."
"I wasn't aware you could resist me either way," she purred. "Oh— mm..."
The laptop slid off her legs and snapped shut between them as the Monarch nibbled her neck, as she arched in pleasure. She felt Gary shift beside her, tensing, maybe starting to pull away. She turned and snatched him by the front of his T-shirt; there was only one bed in this room, and she wanted all three of them in it. Exulting in the feeling of lips and tongue in all the shivery places on the side of her neck, she put her hand behind Gary's head and pulled him in for a kiss, which he enthusiastically returned. She honestly loved the way he kissed, so naively bold.
She wanted to see him kiss her husband that way. Come to think of it, she wanted to see a lot more than that. She wanted to see, to feel, to take turns, to demonstrate, to gang up, to give and to get what they'd all had coming to them for way too long. She wanted to forget about the whole rest of the screwy world they lived in and all the weird shit they'd have to deal with again all too soon. She wanted to fall asleep with these two idiots and wake up in a tangle of blankets and pillows and not knowing whose arms and legs were whose, and it almost shocked her how fiercely that wanting made her body sing.
It was a good thing they didn't have to be back in New York for another week and a half.