Chapter Text
Captain Dad.
“Argh, me mateys. If we ever catch Angel, we should make them walk the plank. Argh.”
It was the “Please stop” from Number One that broke Ortegas’ resolve. A wide smile appeared on her face and she silently chuckled, her body vibrating in barely controlled laughter.
She expected the Captain to ignore the plea, to release a “yo ho ho” or a “shiver me timbers.” Instead, it’s total silence and Ortegas allowed herself to shake her head at his playfulness.
The captain could really be such a child at heart. It’s what the crew loved about him.
“Captain Dad is back,” she said to herself, momentarily forgetting that she was in the bridge and surrounded by her coworkers and not down at the mess hall drinking with her friends.
“What was that, Erica?"
Ortegas’ eyes widened. She glanced at Number One who gave her a look that said Erica was on her own.
Ortegas closed her eyes and mentally berated herself for having let slip a nickname to a superior officer. That was a rookie move! She was lieutenant for crying out loud! Opening her eyes, she remained silent, hoping the Captain wouldn't bother seeking further inquiry.
She focused on the screen in front of her.
But then she heard footsteps.
Yep, the captain was coming over.
She held her breath.
It wasn’t long before Christopher Pike was in her peripheral vision.
“Ortegas,” he said, leaning against her chair. “Don’t make me order you to say it again.” One of his eyebrows was raised and the corner of his lips was turned upwards, revealing only one deep dimple.
Erica thought of only one thing—Captain Dimples—but she wasn’t going to make the mistake of saying that out loud.
Erica let out the breath she’d been holding. “It’s nothing. Just a nickname.”
“Seems like a lot of people have given me nicknames. Boy Scout and then this new one.” He didn’t move away from the helm, content to wait it out with a smug look on his face. He knew Erica would give in. Nobody could ever say ‘no’ to the captain except for Number One.
Ortegas caved. “We call you Captain Dad.” In attempt to explain, she added, “It’s silly, I know. But it’s just you make a lot of awful dad jokes—” Chris’ eyebrows shot up and Erica hastily attempted to fix it, “Did I saw awful? I meant, unique! And so unappreciated. And you’re very paternal. You know, hosting dinners, playing space-ball with the cadets every weekend. It’s a very dad thing, sir.”
The Captain hmmed and then said, “So, you’re saying the crew see me as a father figure.”
Erica glanced at Number One again but the woman was purposefully avoiding her gaze. The pilot turned back to the Captain. “Not just a father figure. A fun father figure?”
“Well, I certainly like that better than Boy Scout.”
Erica breathed a sigh of relief.
Then the Captain turned to head back to his chair but made a detour and leaned over between Ortegas and Number One, facing the latter.
“This nickname is not in my file, is it?”
Number One answered his question by firing back one of her own. “Do you want it to be?”
The Captain laughed. “You know what this means, right?”
“No, but I believe you will enlighten me, Captain.”
He clapped her on the back. “It means congratulations are in order. We got kids, Una. A ship-load of them.”
Number One frowned. “We?”
“If I’m Captain Dad, that makes you Mom-ber One.”
Erica almost snorted at the pun while Number One did not. Instead, Una laughed which was a rare sight. Usually, it was just a smile, grin, or chuckle from the stoic first officer. But this time, she threw her head back and actually laughed. With her mouth wide open and everything!
The Captain looked very pleased with that reaction.
“See? Una appreciates my jokes.”
Erica sent him an apologetic look and resolved to give him a mug that says Galaxy’s Funniest Dad on Father’s Day this year.
Captain Dimples.
“I fail to see how gift giving led to this," said M'benga, wincing at the state of the Captain's lower back. Almost half of his clothes had been burned away, revealing red, blotchy skin.
“It’s all his fault,” Number One grumbled from the bed beside the Captain's. Her hair was singed and she was holding an ice pack to her bruised face.
“You can’t possibly blame me for something I don’t have bodily control over!” said Chris who was laying on his stomach while Nurse Chapel was pulling out pieces of burnt uniform away from his skin with a pair of tweezers.
“What happened here exactly?” Chapel asked.
“Chris’ dimples happened.”
“I’m sorry, his what?”
“Apparently, showing dimples is a sign of sexual interest to the Zilongs. And we all know the captain. We’ve all seen him. The minister didn’t take it too kindly when Chris smiled at everybody including his wife and son."
M'Benga chuckled. "The nurses don’t call you Captain Dimples for nothing."
“Captain what?”
Chapel and Number One slowly exchanged wide awkward glances at each other while M’Benga’s expression morphed into one of feigned ignorance.
“I believe we should apply a salve to that, Nurse Chapel,” he said, moving to get the said salve. Pike, however, caught him by the wrist. Even confined to a bed, the man was quick.
“Don’t you run away from me, Doc." He pulled M'Benga back to his side. "People call me Captain Dimples?”
“Not to your face,” M’Benga said with a sheepish grin. "And always affectionately."
“And you all know about this?” Chris turned his head to the other side to look at Una. “Even you?”
“It’s not that bad a nickname. Frankly, I think it’s appropriate. I mean, they do kind of have a life of their own."
“It’s a compliment,” M’Benga added. “Nobody can refuse you with those dimples.”
“It’s who you are, Captain," said Chapel, eyes darting down to his backside. She cocked her head and said in a thoughtful tone, "I wouldn’t even be surprised if you’ve got dimples on your butt cheeks.”
Chris stared at her.
“Sir,” Chapel added as if that would’ve made her statement less weird.
“Nurse Chapel, why do I have a feeling that you started this nickname?”
The kilf
Chris stood by the doorway, listening to the two ensigns cleaning the transporter buffer. He had come in the room looking for Chief Kyle but happened upon Christina and Zier with their backs to him and playing what seemed to be a game.
“Johnson," said Christina.
“Kilp," replied Zier. "Aka?”
“Kilf.”
“What? Gross!”
“I thought you said no judgement?”
“Fine. Fine. Georgiou.”
“I’m a little scared of her, to be honest. So, I’d have to kilp.”
“Agreed. Pike.”
“Kilf. Definitely kilf material. And I mean that with all the respect in my body.”
“Right?! He's so considerate and kind! Okay, next. Ede…"
Curiosity piqued, Pike decided to bring his question to the person most likely to have an answer.
“Number One, what’s a kilf?”
Una choked on her drink. They were both in Chris' quarters sharing a meal.
“Where did you hear that word?” she said when she recovered.
“I overheard two Ensigns today. They would say if a person was a Kilf or a Kilp. They said my name and I am, I discovered, a Kilf.” He smirked, a little bit proud of the title. "Based on their tone and the compliments, I feel like I should be flattered. Although, I don't know what it means."
"It is a compliment. In a way," she started to frown, her forehead creasing and her face turning stern. "You overheard it?"
Chris nodded.
"They should know better than to play that game in public! Who were they?"
Chris waved her question away. “Not important. But I take it you know the game.”
“Yes, I know the game. It’s a stupid game.” She stabbed at her French fry with her fork. "And a disrespectful one. You shouldn't have heard it."
Chris reached over to touch her free hand. “You’re avoiding my question." He waited for her to look at him. "What’s a kilf?”
Una hesitated and after a war of raised eyebrows with Chris, she relented. “It’s not kilf. I mean, it is but it’s an acronym. C-I-L-F, pronounced kilf.”
“Okay. What does it stand for?”
Una let out a string of words so fast that Chris barely understood.
“Slow down.”
She huffed and said through grit teeth, “Captain I’d Like to Fu—” The oven dinged, cutting Una off. But Chris received the message loud and clear. “And Kilp is Captain I’d Like to Pass. CILF or CILP.”
"I see. So, I'm a CILF."
Una nodded.
"What makes one a CILF?" Chris asked while he left the table to take the pie out of the oven.
"You'd have to be a captain. But it depends on personal opinion. Not that the label matters. The CILF list is just a way to get a person to reveal their type."
"There's a list?"
Una nodded again. "Like I said, it's disrespectful. There are much better ways to express oneself than to play CILF or CILP."
Chris shook his head, recalling what the ensign said about him. He set the pie on the table. "No, no. I think Ensigns Zier and Christina mean well." Their reasons for putting him on their list had more to do with his character than his physical features.
"Those two again?"
Chris' eyes widened at the slip. "I wasn't supposed to say that." He held up his hands. "Don't punish them. That's an order."
Number One glared at him. "Just because they called you a CILF—"
"It's not because they called me a CILF. It's like Enterprise Bingo. They're just letting loose. And it might also be a generation thing.” Pike wouldn't call someone he finds attractive a CILF; he would just call them beautiful. He was old fashioned that way. A sudden thought came to him. “Wait. How do you know what that means?” he eyed his first officer, a small hunch blossoming in his gut. “Una, have you played CILF or CILP?”
She started to blush.
“I was a young, stupid ensign once," Number One answered which told Chris all he needed to know. She held his gaze, though, which made Pike grin and caused his dimples to deepen.
He wiggled his eyebrows. “Was I on your list?” The thought of no-nonsense Una Chin-Riley having a CILF list excited Pike.
“Of course, not. You weren’t Captain then.”
“And now?”
"You think I have time to make up a CILF list?"
"But if you did?" He cocked a grin knowing she'd find it insufferable.
Una gave him a look that said he should really know the answer to that question. But Pike wanted to hear her say it. It wasn't often that he could get his Number One flushed in the face.
“We share a bed, don’t we?”
She had a point.
Chris laughed and he leaned over the pie and their meal to give her a kiss.
It was a deep one because Chris may not care if the ensigns called him a CILF, but Una's opinion mattered. And he was honest enough with himself to admit that he was a vain captain at times.
Una sighed against his mouth. "Fine, yes, you're a CILF. You're the CILF."
Pulling away, Chris beamed at her.
She snorted a laugh. "You're very pleased about this."
"What can I say? I've decided to embrace all my nicknames," he raised his index finger. "Just don't put them in my file."