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When Una first meets Christopher Pike, he's some cocksure ensign from the USS Chatelet, assigned as part of the security detail for the King Jr's science team. She's supposed to be surveying an anomalous mineral deposit at the edge of the capital city on this non-Federation colony, her fellow science officers collecting samples nearby, but in the last hour she's spent more time reluctantly conversing with Pike than doing her job. He doesn't take their work here seriously, finding it uninteresting and pointless. It’s beginning to get annoying.
He's young, bright-eyed, and - she very much hates to admit it - attractive. But he also knows it, having hit on almost all of the science team already. It doesn't bother Una that he's not attempted to flirt with her yet - at least, that's what she keeps telling herself - because she rather wishes he'd leave her alone and let her work.
When he kicks a rock a little too close to her in his boredom, she lets out a frustrated sigh and closes her tricorder with an over the top snap.
"Do you really have to be over here, Pike? As far as I can tell, there's nothing dangerous for miles."
"It's my job to oversee the security of this area," he says, yawning half way through the sentence. "Don't you find all this a bit unnecessary, First?"
Una fails to hide her wince at the nickname, rising to her feet and brushing the dust from her knees. The ensign's face barely changes, but Una can tell he's taken note of her discomfort, an odd subtlety of softness shifting over the way he holds himself.
"You don't like that name, do you?" he asks, and all the cockiness has gone.
Una bites her tongue, focusing firmly on the feel of her tricorder in her hand. The edge of the casing digs into her palm, and she holds it all the tighter, enjoying the clarity the dull pain brings. Annoyingly, though unsurprisingly having seen how little the man seems to care about personal space, Pike hovers close, awaiting her reply.
"Cadets can be cruel. Between my name, coming top in all my classes, and an old Earth rhyme, it wasn't hard for them to come up with something to taunt me with. ‘First the worst’. Though, I'm surprised it lasted outside of the Academy."
"Well, you're a hard person to forget," he says, not a hint of malice present in his voice. It makes something uncomfortable unfurl in Una's chest. "So, what is your name? I only heard of you by the nickname at the Academy. And you're down as Ensign Chin-Riley on the science team manifest the Lieutenant handed out this morning."
She hesitates, but his eyes are honest, trusting, there's nothing teasing or spiteful hidden on his face, and something has her answering before her brain can tell her not to.
"Una," she tells him.
"Huh. Pretty."
He flashes her a grin that's all dimples, and the discomfort growing in her chest burns.
"Don't really see why they called you 'First' though; Number One works way better."
"You're not calling me that," Una says instantly, the uncomfortable heat of embarrassment flashing through her at the thought of it.
Pike laughs, rocking back on his heels for a second as he shoots her a wink.
“It suits you, Ensign. Think about it.”
Then he's gone, strolling across the sandy earth towards the rest of the science team, finally leaving her to the work she can no longer focus on. She watches him leave, and with a dawning sense of horror, Una realises she's smiling.
--
An unexpected sandstorm in the plains outside the city forces them to take shelter, unable to beam back up to the comfort of their starships due to too much particle interference in the area. The non-federation colonists are a pleasant people, who are more than happy to exchange food and drink in return for stories from beyond the stars.
Una is content to listen to the others talk about their experiences, an almost forgotten feeling of homesickness washing over her. She's not been home since she left for the Academy all those years ago, and on some nights like this, it hits her - what she's had to sacrifice to explore the galaxy.
The cushions shift beside her as Pike sits down heavily, his shoulder jostling hers.
"Number One! You have to try this."
His voice is a little slurred, but his excitement is almost infectious. So much so that her objection over the nickname dies on her tongue before it has the chance to live. A bowl of foreign fruit lands in her lap, courtesy of the ensign, and Una takes a second to gather her thoughts before she speaks. The fruit is small and green, almost like grapes from Earth, but it’s speckled with little red dots that look more than a little ominous.
“Is this safe to eat?” she asks after a moment, already reaching for her tricorder.
Whilst Una knows she probably won’t get ill from eating the fruit, she doesn’t want to risk exposing her genetically enhanced immune system if she turns out to be the only member of the away team to not get sick. The tricorder tells her nothing of importance, the analysis simply giving her a readout of organic data points.
“I’ve already eaten half the bowl, and I’m fine,” Pike says from beside her.
He shrugs when she turns to look at him, though the movement is off somehow, sluggish. Una passes her tricorder over him; it’s not medical grade, but it can tell her enough. The tricorder beeps in her hand.
“You’re inebriated,” she says simply.
“Come on, Number One. Live a little. The Lieutenant says we’ve got 8 to…12 hours to wait out this storm.”
Una isn’t sure what possesses her to listen to him, to reach into the bowl and pick up one of the odd alien grapes. Pike’s the first person she’s met since leaving home who seemingly wants to be in her presence simply because he enjoys it - not because she can help him academically or because they’ve been assigned a task together.
The grape tastes sharp, not quite bitter but definitely not sweet. It makes her mouth water, and before she realises it, one grape has turned into a handful, has turned into the rest of the bowl. She feels it slowly at first, a gentle haze sweeping through her, but then it hits her all at once, a heavy wave leaving a blur in its wake.
Pike’s grin appears in front of her, the features of his face lacking definition.
“I’m drunk,” Una slurs, pausing to frown at the sound of her own voice.
“That you are, Number One.”
He laughs, and the sound is warm. Warm like the hands pulling her onto unsteady feet.
“I need to show you something.”
Pike pulls her after him, staggering through the sheltered city and stumbling up stone staircases. She’s not sure how he knows where they are or where they’re going, but the surprising amount of trust she has for this man has only grown in the few hours she’s known him. Eventually, he tugs her up the last few steps, and into bright sunlight. They’re far above the swirling clouds of the sandstorm, the sun glittering in the sky above them.
“It’s-” breathtaking, beautiful, awe-inspiring. No words come to mind that will adequately describe the feeling.
“Yeah,” Pike agrees, a smile lighting up his face. “It is.”
--
They spend a good few hours watching the storm dance beneath the towering protection of the city, quiet drunken words passing softly between them. Una learns Pike had been a test pilot straight out of the Academy, his love for the thrill of horse riding translating easily into shuttles and ships.
“I’ve never ridden a horse,” she admits carefully, a slight tinge of heat finding its way to her face.
Pike looks scandalised, though the expression is dulled by the glazed over look in his eyes. Somewhere behind the fog in her head, Una has to wonder how they’re both still inebriated hours after the consumption of the alien grapes. But Pike is talking again and the thought is lost in the moment.
“You seem the type to enjoy an adrenaline rush, and nothing can beat the one you get from riding a horse bareback through the wilderness.”
Una smiles, the idea of this cocksure young officer being sentimental over horses of all things bringing an amused twist to her lips.
“Better than testing new, top of the line shuttlecraft?” she asks incredulously.
“Always. Nothing compares.”
“You’ve seen the schematics for the new Constitution class, I assume,” she says, continuing when Pike nods in answer. “I intend to fly one someday. Do you really think horse riding would measure up to that?”
“Nothing compares,” he repeats, levelling her with what she assumes is his attempt at a serious stare. In his intoxicated state, it comes off more like a squint, and she finds laughter bubbling up out of her before she can hold it in.
“I’m serious. And I’ll prove it. When the Chatelet and King Jr work together again in the future, we’re taking shore leave, and I’m taking you horse riding, Number One.”
The heat returns to her face, and Una ducks her head to hide the redding of her cheeks.
“I doubt we’ll see each other again after this survey operation,” she says, melancholy washing suddenly over her.
It’s confusing, especially considering a handful of hours ago she’d wanted nothing more than for Pike to leave her alone, but she enjoys his company, his cheeky smile, his easy going presence. He makes her feel relaxed and open in a way she’s not felt since she left home.
“We will,” he says, and he says it so confidently Una realises she can’t find it within herself to doubt him.
--
They wander slowly back through the city, the bustle of a market opening up in front of them. They hadn’t originally come this way, but Pike doesn’t look lost, just interested, his eyes roaming lazily over the market stalls lining the streets.
A brightly adorned stall catches Una’s attention, the various trinkets and jewellery glinting in the fading sunlight. Her hand trails over the deep red fabric lining the wood; it’s soft, delicate to the touch. The centrepiece, in the rows upon rows of rings and bracelets, is an intricately designed necklace: a thin silver chain twisting down to the silver silhouette of a rearing horse-like creature.
“That’s a Nimbosian horse,” Pike informs her, appearing over her shoulder to look at the necklace. “In real life, they’re blue, and the horns are more pronounced.”
“It’s gorgeous,” Una finds herself whispering.
“I’ll take it,” Pike’s saying to the stallholder before she can stop him, already pulling his Starfleet badge from his uniform tunic.
Una’s eyes widen, the fading remnants of the intoxication disappearing entirely in her panic. She watches, horrified, as Pike barters with the man behind the stall, the charming grin on the ensign’s face seemingly swaying the price in his favour.
“You can’t trade your badge, Ensign Pike,” she hisses against his ear, hoping a reminder of his rank will help. “It’s against Starfleet protocol.”
He laughs but otherwise ignores her plea to observe regulations. She can do nothing but watch it all unfold.
Finally, the stallholder acquiesces, handing over the necklace in return for Pike’s badge. He smiles at the two of them; it’s a knowing smile, and it sends something uneasy through Una’s gut.
“Here.” Pike turns to her, necklace raised to neck height.
“Pike, I don’t-”
“You’ve known me long enough to call me Chris,” he laughs.
“I’ve known you for barely ten hours, Ensign.”
“Number One,” he admonishes. “Do you want the necklace or not?”
Una freezes, eyes flicking between him and the elegant chain hanging between his fingers. The tiny horse sways slightly in the evening breeze, the light glinting off the silver in such a way that reminds her of the stars in the night sky. It truly is a beautiful piece of craftsmanship, and she’s always loved the stars.
“You just traded away your Starfleet insignia, against all protocol and regulation, to buy me a necklace of a horse?”
“A Nimbrosian horse,” he corrects, eyes sparkling with mirth.
She sighs, unable to prevent the frustrated yet amused smile from forming on her face.
“Okay, Chris,” she says softly, enjoying his surprise at her use of his name.
She turns her back to him, pulling her ponytail out of the way as he lays the necklace around her throat. It sits perfectly over her sternum, right above where her heart is beating rapidly behind her ribcage. Gentle pressure on her arm has Una turning round to face a beaming Pike.
“It looks grea-” he starts, interrupted by the small cheers that have suddenly erupted around them. “What?”
“Congratulations!” the stallholder shouts from beside them, his large hands clapping furiously in what Una can only assume is a celebratory gesture.
“I’m sorry, we don’t quite understand,” she tries, the earlier sense of unease returning in full force.
“You have accepted the talvashchi from your mate. It is a sign of spiritual bonding and official union amongst our people.”
“Talvashchi?” Pike repeats, and Una would be impressed by his pronunciation of an alien language if not for the hot wave of horror washing over her.
“Chris,” she says, and he must recognise something in her voice, because all his focus switches instantly to her. “I think…I think we just got married.”
--
It takes them a while to gather what information they can and extract themselves from the cheering crowd that had soon gathered around them, but eventually they make their way back to the Lieutenant in charge.
Una’s head feels clearer than it has in hours, and from the brightness that’s returned to Pike’s eyes, she can assume he feels the same. The inebriation is gone from their systems, but their actions may very well have lasting consequences. It makes her feel sick, though she’s still not quite sure if the nausea is a remnant of the alien grapes, or a by-product of the anxiety welling inside her.
“Excuse me?” the Lieutenant says, eyes widening almost comically as Pike regales her with their escapades.
He digs the toe of his boot into the ground, twisting into the sandy earth as he explains. Una stands beside him silently, willing the heat blooming across her face to fade sooner rather than later.
“It’s an ancient ritual they have on this planet, sir,” Pike continues. “A gift of meaning, chosen by one and procured by the other. There’s something about verbally offering and accepting too, it got a bit confusing. The locals were very excited.”
The Lieutenant sighs, fixing Pike with a stare Una is sure he’s received numerous times before today. But then she’s laughing, clapping Pike on the shoulder as she says, “Only you could do something like this, Pike.”
“We’re not in trouble, sir?” Una finally finds her voice, looking between the two smiling security officers with confusion.
“I’ll have to file a report of course; Starfleet does like to keep a record of accidental alien ceremonies. But you’re not the first - and I doubt you’ll be the last - to get married on an alien planet with zero intentions of doing so. It isn’t recognised by Federation law, so don’t worry about it, Ensign. Enjoy the story; you’ll be telling it for years to come.”
She claps Pike on the shoulder again, shaking her head in amusement before flipping open her communicator and calling for the Chatelet. Una watches her leave, disbelief flooding through her chest.
“So we’re just-”
“Married!” Pike laughs, looping his arm through hers without warning. Then he sobers, mouth pinching together somewhat awkwardly before he speaks again. “Sorry, Number On- Una. You must think I’m a right ass after all this.”
It’s the first time he’s ever said her name, and Una finds she enjoys the way it sounds when he says it. But it feels different, changed. ‘Una’ no longer feels quite right when he’s the one using it. She stares at him for a moment, watching with no small degree of enjoyment as he squirms beneath her steely gaze.
“Call me Number One,” she says, and Pike snorts a laugh, his body losing all the tension he’d been holding.
He nods towards where the rest of the science team are organising the collected samples into a uniform stack of boxes - ready to be transported back to the King Jr. “It looks like we’re shipping off soon.”
Una feels the melancholy return. She doesn’t make friends easily, most finding her too strict or too cold to enjoy her company, and she almost wishes she didn’t have to return to the King Jr just yet. Her hand automatically goes to the necklace still resting over her sternum, and Pike notices, a soft smile pulling at his lips as he watches her fingers curl around the horse.
“I’m going to take you horse riding, Number One. I promise.”
She’s only known Christopher Pike for ten hours and twenty four minutes, but she believes him, believes in him.
“I’ll hold you to that, Ensign Pike.” She smiles, untangling her arm from his as she moves to join her science team from the King Jr. “Or should I call you 'Mr Chin-Riley'?”
And the wide-eyed look of impressed surprise on his face is something she’ll remember for years to come.