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Archer mumbles incoherently and stirs, rolling over slightly before giving a big stretch. He’s sore, but in an extremely good way, and he slept phenomenally, better than he has in months, easily.
Eyes still closed, he blindly reaches out next to him, patting at the bedspread to find the space empty.
Archer bolts upright, eyes snapping open and looking around his quarters, his brow furrowing. He notices that Shran’s boots and uniform are missing from where they’d previously been discarded on the floor.
A twinge of sadness tugs at Archer’s heart and he sighs. He’d hoped to wake up to the other still there, but to be fair, he’d only asked Shran to stay the night. He didn’t say anything about staying until morning — which he thought he had implied by asking Shran to stay the night — but perhaps it had gotten lost in translation.
He makes a mental note to be more specific next time.
Regardless of his disappointment at Shran’s absence, he’s still in extremely good spirits. He hasn’t had a good lay in a long while, but last night?
That was something else entirely.
The images play through his mind and he can feel himself begin to stir again but, as lovely as they are to recall, he has to focus and start his day.
He rises from his bed and takes a moment to admire the finger-shaped bruises on his hips before he dresses in his uniform. Checking himself out in the mirror, he notices more light bruising on his neck as well from the attention Shran had lavished there. Fortunately it was low enough on the crook of his neck that it could be concealed by the collar of his uniform. Archer then goes about starting the necessary laundry before remaking the bedding.
~*~
Archer is whistling as he enters the mess hall. Trip stands at the nearby replicator, waiting for his coffee cup to fill.
“Morning, Commander,” Archer greets brightly with a broad smile.
“Somebody’s awful cheery,” Trip remarks, glancing at Archer out of the corner of his eye. He’s sucking in his cheeks slightly and gnawing on them to stifle a smile.
“Slept well, is all,” Archer replies casually, walking around Trip to the shelving units to retrieve a mug of his own.
“No bad dreams?”
“No bad dreams.”
Trip allows the cheeky smile to bloom across his face.
“Well, that’s good, then. I’m glad.”
He takes his now-full coffee cup from the replicator and steps aside so Archer can do the same as he had.
“You, uh…” Trip begins, awkwardly. “You’n Commander Shran on better terms now?”
“You could say that.”
Trip doesn’t know what exactly that means, but seeing the Captain in such a good mood, it must be worth it, so Trip doesn’t pry.
~*~
The day goes by like any other uneventful day, which is to say it went extremely well.
Little does Archer know, something is about to ruin it.
It’s much later in the evening, now, and Archer decides to pay Shran a visit.
He presses the door chime to Shran’s quarters.
“Come in,” comes the surprisingly quiet reply.
The door slides open and Archer beams when he sees Shran, but the Andorian, seated at the desk, looks back at him sadly, antennae drooping. Seeing this, Archer’s expression immediately falls, replaced by concern.
“Something wrong?”
“I received a transmission this morning,” he tells Archer, “from the General of the Imperial Guard.”
A heavy sigh.
“My transfer to Columbia. It’s been approved.”