Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Quite frankly I think your people are barbaric for this.”

Archer held back a smile.

Shran squinted at the small screen. “I mean, what a ridiculous waste of energy. Its preposterous!” His black eyes glittered with an equal mix of frustration and amusement as he watched the old footage of pinkskins floundering about in something called a ‘pool’.

“As silly as you may find it, sport is important to us humans.” Archer stood, giving Shran a good-natured pat on the back. “And after your people have shared much of your culture with us-” Shran snorted- “we all wanted to share some of ours with you.”

The human picked up a ball from his bedside and lobbed it at Shran, who caught it just in time. Archer smiled.

“Good reflexes,” he said.

Shran stared at him fiercely for several seconds.

“I’ll have my people ready by 1900,” He told Archer, dropping the ball to the ground. Then the Andorian turned on his heels and marched out.

……

“Captain, I really don’t see why this is necessary. I mean, they clearly don’t want to be involved in us more than we want to be involved in them!”

Archer rolled his eyes, ignoring Trip. They reached the side of the pool, and Archer felt a familiar excitement building in his chest. He smiled at the engineer. He waved at some of the other crew members shivering in their swim gear by the end, then turned back to his engineer.

“You know Trip, I think you just might not like water polo.”

Trip tried to deny it for a moment, before grinning abashedly.

“Cant get anything past you, sir.” He shook his head. “I mean, it’s hardly the most popular sport of humans, eh?”

Archer laughed. “You may be right. Next time we’ll play cricket.” He threw the ball into the water. “Now let's warm up before our icy blue friends arrive.”

….

Shran detested this ‘water polo’ from the moment the captain told him about it. Typical pinkskin nonsense. He couldn’t see the point for the sport. Unfortunately, there was still a point diplomatically for entertaining this tomfoolery.

A young human called Mayweather had shown them to the dressing rooms, where there were spare swim uniforms. Shran felt exposed and ridiculous. His crew however, seemed entertained by the prospect of besting these humans, especially in their own game, so Shran kept his pouting to himself.

As they headed out to the poolside, Shran wrinkled his nose. It smelled strange, and the water made everything echo uncomfortably. Several people were splashing about in the water already, and he nodded to the rest of the Andorians to join them. His crew slid into the water with a few happy shrieks of surprise at the cool temperature of the water, and Shran smiled watching them gain their footing.

“Hey!” Shran jumped as a sopping wet captain Archer popped out of the water just in front of him. “You going to join us?”

Shran glared down. “In a minute.”

“We’re starting in a minute,” Archer told him. Then before Shran could reply the human pulled himself from the water. Shran felt something weird in his stomach, like he’d eaten something wrong.

Archer stood beside him a moment, arms crossed across his chest, and Shran looked away.

He didn’t look anything like the Andorians Shran had found beautiful before, he was tall and wide shouldered. He was wearing a stupid cap on his head, and blushing pink from the cold water. He was soft, and a little fluffy in places, and Shran couldn’t even look at him.

“We turned the water temperature down a few degrees- thought your people would like that,” Archer said. Shran nodded, clearing his throat.

“Thank you, pinkskin.” He said, feeling murderous.

Archer smiled. Then he did something very undiplomatic and pushed Shran in.

……

That evening, as Archer showered, he grinned, remembering the look of shock on Shran’s face. He knew he shouldn’t have done it, but he also had no regrets letting his impulsive thoughts win every once and a while- he figured it made him human. The Andorian had spluttered up from the water, enraged, spraying water everywhere, and when they had played, it wasn’t to score- it was to pay the human back.

Archer and Shran had even ended up in fisticuffs halfway through, but to the confusion of everyone else, they both seemed to be having the time of their life. It wasn’t clear who won the game, but both crew had left tired, but amused by the sport and the rivalry. Archer considered that a success.

He winced as he washed his face, a nice purple shiner blooming high on his cheekbone from either a headbutt or an elbow to the face - he couldn’t remember. This was the most sore he’d felt in ages, but also the most invigorated.

When he finished, he wrapped a towel around his waist and fed Porthos, who had started whining eagerly for food. His stomach also rumbled, and he was about to get dressed so he could go eat, when his door beeped.

“One moment,” he called, fumbling for some old sweatpants.

The door beeped again, then opened anyway. It was the Andorian.

“Oh, hello Shran, how can I help you?” he said, with too much confidence for a man wearing only a towel.

After a moment, Shran smirked. “Looking good, pinkskin.” He nodded to Archer's bruised face.

“Not so bad yourself,” Archer retorted with a smile, looking at the large band-aid on the Andorian’s forehead. Porthos yipped at the creature. “I’m sorry for Porthos, he’s never seen a blue man before.” Archer laughed at his own comment.

“What is that thing?” Shran asked with a vague look of disgust, swaggering into the room.

“It’s called a dog. We humans care a lot about them.” Archer told him. “Don’t we Porthos?” Porthos whined.

Archer turned to Shran conspiratorially. “He’s not supposed to have any, but I know what’ll quiet him down.” He went to a small refrigerator, and pulled out an orange block. “It’s called cheese.” He showed Shran. “He loves it.” He knelt down carefully, holding his towel, and broke off a small piece for Porthos, who indeed quieted down. “I like it too,” he said, and took a piece for himself. “Want any?”

Shran wrinkled his nose. “No thank you.” He sat down on the edge of Archer's bed.

“Look, I don’t mean to be rude Shran, but why are you here?” Archer knew he may give the energy of a man at ease, but he's got a towel around his waist and a piece of cheese in his mouth and maybe the situation was getting a little awkward.

Shran’s antennae pulled back a little, and he smirked. “I wanted to say thank you, captain. Your people’s type of recreational combat may be strange, but it was what one could call… fun.”

Archer raised an eyebrow. “Fun.”

“I believe that is the word.”

“So you hunted me down while I was naked to thank me?” Archer joked.

“Well I had no indication you would have no clothes on.” Shran suddenly seemed very preoccupied with Porthos, who was begging his owner for more cheese as Archer put it away. “And no, I didn’t come just to thank you. I was wondering if you and your crew would perhaps like to learn a little about our Andorian custom of combat.”

Archer smiled. “Thank you, Shran. I think that would be good for both our crews, I appreciate the opportunity to keep building mutual respect between our peoples.”

“So it’s purely diplomatic, pinkskin?” Shran leered up at Archer, antennae reaching out through his fluffy white hair.

Archer looked down for a moment calculating. “Well I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want my hands around your sorry blue neck again,” he said. Shran smiled fiercely.

“We’ll discuss it tomorrow, I’m sure. When you’re fully clothed. Humans are more decent about that sort of thing…”

“Andorians don’t have as much cultural hang up towards nudity as humans?” Archer asked, genuinely curious.

“Not at all,” Shran lied.

“Interesting, I thought with all the cold, it would be the opposite.”

Shran rolled his eyes, and antennae.

“See you in the morning, pinkskin.”

Then he strode out, leaving Archer feeling oddly excited for tomorrow.

Chapter Text

Shran was enjoying this too much. He squirmed, chin trapped by the crook of Archer’s arm. He could feel the flexing of the human’s bicep around the side of his face, and the heat radiating off him was almost painful. Shran luxuriated for a few more moments, before locking in. Archer grunted as Shran swung his ice pick around, catching him by surprise.

“Oh pinkskin,” Shran sneered, then sprung out of his grasp. In moments, the captain had lost control of his ushaan-tor, and lay sprawled under Shran, who cried out, “You’re dead now, Captain!” before mock thrusting the weapon into Archer’s chest again and again.

Archer grabbed Shran’s wrist and wrestled it for a moment.

“You can’t stop me pinkskin, this duel is over.”

The human squinted up at him, breathing heavily. His face was flushed an entertaining shade of pink. Shran grinned.

“Not bad for your first try. You could probably win against a twelve year old.”

Archer laughed good naturedly at the banter, but pulled Shran’s wrist down a little fiercer than he had to, like he was trying to assert dominance. Shran hissed, his legs straddled on either side of the man’s stomach as it rose and fell with his heavy breathing.

“I hate to say it Shran,“ Archer began, still breathing hard, “but victory looks good on you.”

Shran was about to say, ‘thank you, pinkskin,” but then Archer unleashed one of the worst non-deadly attacks possible: he began to tickle Shran.

….

“I’m sorry I knocked out your captain,” Shran said, vaguely sheepish, but not particularly remorseful.

“You know what, Shran?” Trip told him, “It sounds perfectly valid to me.” He gave Shran an unreadable side-eye. “I don’t know what's gotten into him lately.” They opened the door to sickbay and he escorted the Andorian in. “And I can’t believe Andorians are ticklish!”

“Me either,” Shran muttered darkly.

Trip wanted to ask more, but the captain was awake, sitting up on the bed, talking to doctor Phlox.

Trip and Shran both went to speak, but Archer held up his hand.

“I’m sorry Shran.” He stood from the bed, swaying a little.

Doctor Phlox pursed his lips, reaching for his patient’s shoulder to steady him, but Archer brushed him off. “Captain, may I remind you - you just suffered major blunt force trauma to your head.”
Trip walked forward and caught Archer’s shoulder as he staggered a little. “Don’t worry, doctor. We’ll get him to his quarters.” Phlox sighed and waved them off with a reminder for Archer to “drink plenty of water- and no contact sports for a few days.”

As soon as they emerged from sickbay Archer pulled himself from Trip’s hold.

“I’m fine, Trip,” he said with a little fierceness in his voice. Then his face softened, “Sorry.”

Trip held his hands up placatingly. “It’s fine captain, you’ve been through a lot. Let’s just get you to bed.” He didn’t try to touch Archer again.

After a few awkward moments walking, Archer turned to Shran. “Why are you here?”

Shran’s antennae danced. “Because,” he said, “in Andorian culture, it is customary to respect those you have dueled. You are this ship’s captain, and I did not want you debased in front of your crew.”

Archer gave him a funny look. “Debased.” He muttered to himself. “What does that even mean?” Shran didn’t elaborate.

They finally reached the captain's quarters.

“Alright,” Trip said awkwardly, giving a look to both of them. “I’ll leave you to it… ’Night, Cap.”

“Thank you, Trip,” Archer told him, lingering at the door as the engineer left. Then he looked at Shran. “You want to come in?” He gave an odd dopey smile.

Shran squinted at him for a moment. He made a mental note of how fragile the human skull seemed to be to damage. “Are you alright, pinkskin?”

Archer scoffed. “Call me Jonathan,” he turned and motioned for Shran to follow him in. “Or at least ‘Archer’ or ‘Captain’ or hell, even ‘Human’, something normal for God’s sake.”

“Okay, ‘ Sir Jonathon’” Shran said in an annoying tone of voice.

Archer turned to him. “Want to square up, bug boy?” He put his fists up. “Human rules this time.”
Shran rolled his eyes, making his way over to Archer’s bedside. “Sit down, Captain. Aren’t you tired?” He used a non-mocking voice this time.

Archer paused, then rubbed the back of his skull. “Yeah…” He sat down heavily on his bed. “Man, I don’t know what Phlox gave me, but my head is killing me.”

Shran stared at him a moment. “Lie down, captain,” he commanded.

Archer giggled.

“What’s funny, pinkskin?”

“I just can’t take you serious!” He giggled again, and Shran felt very disconcerted. “Youre just this little blue bug guy - from space, and you’re trying to tell me what to do!”

“Little?!” Shran knew he shouldn’t get into it - the captain was clearly under the influence of some sort of medication, but he couldn’t help himself from returning a bit of banter. He stood above Archer, arms crossed. “Lie. Down.”

“Make me.”

Shran’s antennae swiveled in irritation and Archer watched them, fascinated. “Those are pretty cool, Shran.”

Shran sighed heavily, all the fight deflating out of him as told himself the human was too intoxicated by some sort of medication. “I hope you have a good night, Captain.” He turned to leave, but Archer’s hand reached out and grabbed his wrist. The heat radiating off him was unfortunately pleasant.

“Don’t go.” The human told Shran quietly. They stared at each other for a minute.

“Your eyes are so black.” He told the alien.

Shran didn’t know what to do.

“Stay.” Archer asked again. “Please?”

He looked so floppy and soft sitting below Shran, big brown eyes staring up hopefully. Shran felt a tightness in his chest.
“Fine. Not for long though.”

Archer nodded. “Thank you, Shran.”

Shran sighed. He looked down for a moment at the captain. “Do you normally sleep in that?”

Archer looked down. “Normally not in my shirt.”

Shran nodded. “Put your arms up.” He steeled himself before gently helping the captain undress. His fingers brushed against warm skin, and he wanted to press himself against it. When he had gotten the captain’s shirt off, he looked at him for a second. He felt a strange squirm in his stomach as he took in the broadness of his shoulders, and the softness of his chest and stomach.

Shran looked away, then back to meet Archer’s eyes. The human’s pupils were blown wide in the semi-darkness of the room and Shran felt strangely like he was being hunted for a moment. Then Archer gave a big stretch like some sort of feline.

“Thanks Shran.” he yawned. “You know, if your quarters aren’t up to standard you could always spend the night.”

He said it so casually that it made Shran squirm. Was this some sort of bizarre power play? Did he often extend this invite to people? The bed was small so where was Shran supposed to go if he DID decide to stay? The situation was so confusing it pissed Shran off.

Archer looked at him. “At least come sit by me a minute.” Shran awkwardly did, their legs only inches from touching. Archer turned and looked in his eyes. “You know, Shran. You don’t feel like anyone I’ve ever touched before.” Shran suppressed a shiver. “You have an electricity, and I’ve never felt that before.” He stared so earnestly Shran had to look away.

He cleared his throat. “I wasn’t aware humans could feel our electromagnetic field.” He felt vaguely… what? Disappointed? Like he was only a curiosity? Like a secret had been found out? He didn’t know at this point.

Archer reached his hand near Shran’s antennae, and grinned when the apparent sensation became stronger. “How incredible,” he whispered
Shran wanted to reach out and press himself to the warmth of the human, he wanted Archer to take hold of him and make him hot all over.

“May I ask Doctor Phlox to examine you and your crew?” Archer asked, and Shran’s chest stung with a feeling of betrayal he couldn’t explain. He looked down at the floor. Archer noticed. “Oh, I’m sorry Shran. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“You should sleep,” Shran told him quietly.

“You’re probably right.”

There was a long pause.

“Do you want me to stay?” Shran asked, the words spilling out against his will.

Archer smiled, tucking himself up onto the bed. “You wouldn’t leave poor old me all alone after a concussion would you?”

“It’s not the concussion I’m worried about.” Shran told him.

Archer rubbed his face. “Yeah, I don’t remember what Phlox told me he gave me. Something that probably works better on Denobulans than Humans.” He scooted back till his back was against the headboard, then patted beside him. Shran’s pulse quickened. “You know, some people back in earth believe in the healing properties of electromagnetic energy.” Archer told him. “You could help me.”

Shran rolled his eyes, hoping it wasn’t obvious how awkward and excited he felt as he crawled up next to the captain.

“Do you mind if I lay down?” Archer asked him.

“On the contrary, I think you should.”

“Talk to me, Shran.” Archer told him as he shuffled down next to him.

Shran wanted to hold his hand to Archer’s face, but he kept it closed in a fist. “You’re a good fighter, Jonathan. Strange techniques, but you’re clearly skilled.”

“A compliment?” Archer looked at him slyly, “I didn’t know you could be nice.”

Shran rolled his eyes properly this time. “There’s plenty you don’t know, pinkskin.”

Archer smiled, closing his eyes. “I’m sure I’ve got plenty to learn.” Shran balked internally at that, grateful after couldn’t see the expression on his face. “And me and my dad used to practice together.”

Shran made a questioning noise.

“Fighting.”

“Impressive for a human.”

“He got me into martial arts,” Archer said wistfully. “I loved it.” Shran watched his face soften as he thought of it. His heart hurt at how vulnerable this felt. “I was never prouder than when I got to prove myself to him. I remember when I first got big enough to throw him the first time- you should have seen the look on his face. Priceless…”

Shran smiled to himself at the mental image. He remembered his first fights well - but not fondly.

Archer sighed. “If I have kids, I want to do stuff like that with them.” His eyes were still closed, and his voice was getting muggy with sleep creeping in at the edges.

“That’s nice.” Shran said softly. He wanted to ask more, but he was terrified of ruining the moment.

Archer nodded faintly, and within a few moments, his breathing had deepened. Shran sat next to him, listening to the rise and fall of his chest get slower, and the occasional noise as his breath caught in the back of his throat. It was sweet, and terrifyingly intimate to witness, and Shran had no idea what he was going to do.

It was probably a bad idea to stay until morning, right?

...