Work Text:
Even if he couldn’t feel her anger swirling in the back of his mind, the fact that she didn’t meet him in the transporter room when he returned tells him everything he needs to know about her current mood. He’s been half-expecting this since he made the decision to go to the Paugh in the first place – in some ways, he’s even glad that she’s so furious. It helps reinforce the distance that they need to maintain, distance that is feeling harder and harder to justify.
When she storms into his quarters at the end of her shift, his first (wildly unhelpful) thought is how gorgeous she looks. He hasn’t seen her in days and she’s already a sight for sore eyes even without the rage that brings out every aristocratic tendency she has: head high, back straight, eyes hard and piercing. The growl in the back of her throat is wildly erotic – and also an indication that she’s definitely heard the direction of his thoughts and is not amused.
“Commander,” she snaps, and he almost recoils. She never calls him that in private. “I am not here for you to salivate over.”
Under other circumstances, she would be saying this teasingly, as a private joke between the two of them. It would be an opening, an invitation for him to flirt back. Today… “I can feel that, Deanna. And I’m sorry if my decision to serve on Klingon warship distressed you, but I refuse to apologize for it.”
She speaks over him, so angry she can’t sense that he’s not done talking. “I sent you the request to give the Vulcan crewmen this week off a month ago, Commander, and you’ve scheduled them on every possible shift.”
“Wait, what?” Will is thoroughly confused now. “Vulcan crew shift requests? Why would you have to put in their time off requests…” He breaks off, remembering with sudden, horrifying clarity the formal request she had sent to him, and the subsequent meeting they’d had to talk it over.
“You knew,” she accuses him, still furious. “You knew how long it took me to build enough trust with the Vulcans on this ship to learn that this week is meaningful to them! We discussed – in detail – how Vulcan privacy makes accommodating their needs nearly impossible. It’s taken a year to get them to share their,” she struggles for the right word, “Their sacred calendar with me and allow me to ask for the time off on their behalf – because they won’t do it themselves. And now that time off has been denied and – and – AURGRHGH!” She stomps her foot as she roars in frustration.
“I forgot to forward the time off request to Data when I left for the exchange,” Will admits, running his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry, Deanna. I’ll rearrange the schedule right now.”
“You can’t,” she snarls. “They won’t accept now that they think they might be inconveniencing the Enterprise. It was difficult enough to convince them to sign the request I made – they kept insisting it wasn’t logical to observe Vulcan rites on a mixed-species ship.” She sighs, and Will can tell her anger is abating, just slightly. “I’ll work with them to determine the next holiday –“ She grimaces at the inaccuracy of the word, “And send you a new request. And I apologize for barging into your private quarters like this. Work matters should remain in working spaces.”
“That’s quite alright, Counselor. I made an error, and you’re right to call me out on it. If I can make it right, I will.”
They stand across from each other, and Deanna is about to shake off her irritation and embrace him because it is so good to see him again, even if she’s annoyed, when she remembers the start of their conversation and her eyes narrow again. “Wait. Did you think I was angry that you went to the Paugh?”
“Well,” Will starts.
Deanna cuts him off. “Seriously? You go on away missions all the time! Do I interfere? Do I stop you? Do I fall into hysterics every time you leave the ship?”
“That’s different,” he insists. “The exchange with the Klingons – that was voluntary.”
“And I was incredibly proud of you!” She snaps, and her anger is back on at full blaze, all of it directed at him. “Taking risks so you can expand our knowledge of other species, improve our relationships with other members of the Federation. It’s the entire point of Starfleet, isn’t it?” She shakes her head. “I’m not trained to do work like that. So I rely on people like you to learn and report back, so I can take better care of my crew!”
“Your crew?” He asks, and immediately regrets it.
“My crew!” She yells back. “What, because I’m not their Commander they’re not mine?! My crew, my colleagues, my friends… My whole life is on this ship, William Riker! You think they’re any less my responsibility because I don’t outrank them all?”
“I didn’t mean that, Dee…” His voice is wheedling, pleading, conciliatory.
She’s having none of it. “I have never – never! – stopped you from taking the opportunities that come to you in Starfleet. I missed you when you left, of course I did. And I worried – just as I do every time you leave the Enterprise. But I was in awe of you, too. I thought you were so brave, being the first human to serve on a Klingon vessel.” She glares up at him. “How dare you accuse me of being unsupportive, Will.” She’s trembling now, and he can feel pain and indignation mixing with the anger she’s still blasting at him. “Fuck you, imzadi.”
She leaves a dumbstruck Will behind her when she turns and marches out of his door. In all their years, he’s never heard those words from her. He sighs, and gets to work making it right.
Deanna wakes the next morning to find a notification on her PADD:
The Federation officially recognizes the following dates as Vulcan holidays, and all Vulcans employed with Starfleet will be given these days off this year and all subsequent years with full access to the culturally appropriate settings and instruments required to observe the occasion properly.
It is signed by no fewer than three High Admirals, and endorsed by the VSA and the Centre for the Preservation of Vulcan Culture and Heritage. A link to a paper written by one Deanna Troi is cited at the bottom of the announcement. She grits her teeth. Will must have been up all night to manage this kind of response from Starfleet, and almost certainly asked Captain Picard to throw his full weight behind the request. It’s an incredible win, for her and for Vulcans serving in Starfleet, and she is touched. She’s also still extremely mad.
She avoids the Bridge and instead spends the day in her office, seeing patients and catching up on paperwork. When she feels Will’s mind on the other side of her door at the end of Beta Shift, she sighs and grants him entry. He’s holding out a box of chocolate in front of him like a shield – real chocolate, not replicated – and she can sense his relief when she takes it and gestures for him to sit down. She says nothing, just bites into a piece of chocolate and raises a single eyebrow.
“I’m sorry, Deanna. Deeply sorry. You’ve done nothing to indicate anything less than your full support of my career and my personal choices, and I was out of line to assume otherwise.” She nods and sends him a feeling of… thawing out. “I brought the report I wrote about my time on the Paugh. There are some things I learned that didn’t seem worth noting in the official documents, but I thought we could go through my notes together – see if you see anything I might have missed that could be insightful for future members of Starfleet working with Klingons.”
She is silent for a long minute before answering. “You can sit.” When he goes to sit in the chair across from her, she holds out a hand to him. “On the couch. So we can both read the PADD,” she adds when he grins.
He settles next to her and hands her the report.
“I’m really sorry, imzadi.” His voice is warm and sincere.
“I know. I suppose I can see how you misinterpreted my anger when you got back to the Enterprise. Sometimes I forget that you don’t have the same experience understanding emotions that I do. I’ll try to be more patient when you get it wrong. But you have to promise to try not to get it so wrong next time. Deal?” She’s smiling now, and he knows the fight is over.
He takes her hand and kisses it instead of shaking it. “Deal. And thank you. I’m a lucky man, to have you in my life.”
“And don’t you forget it!” She orders.
“I won’t,” he promises.