Remembered The Sound Of The Galaxy.
So this happened:
Cee: holy shit, The Hills is still on in 2258?
Max: Bad TV never dies. I'm sure Speidi is cryogenically frozen so that when they figure out how to cure death, they'll be brought back to attention-whore their way through pop culture again.
Cee: oh god, it's an eternal nightmare from which we will NEVER AWAKE.
Max: I am certain that The Hills is the reason that Vulcan made contact with Earth so late. They took one look at that and went "...do we really want to make contact after this?"
Cee: aaaaahahahahaha. _this race is quite primitive, despite its technological advances. perhaps another century will bring greater enlightenment._
Max: Meanwhile, the hundredth remake of Beverly Hills 90210 with robots is still #1 in the galaxy, which hurts all Vulcans in their souls.
Cee: it's like in Spaceballs. we'll be right back with a review of Rocky Five.... Thousand.
And really, that explains everything about us that you always wanted to know, but never dared ask.
So much love to superjoydrop for editing this with her usual enthusiasm and thoroughness, despite being sick. I love that she gets all my Trek book references and squees about Robert April with me. For bozaloshtsh because a) it is her birthday tomorrow, and b) she wanted Archer riding Pike (and who am I to say no?) and for traveller because I live to make her happy. Nurse Cox was brought back by special request for dine because she is one of the best people ever, and Number One's scene is courtesy of taraljc who gave me the idea in the first place.
Note: contains vague references to Prime Directive by Judith and Garfield Reeves-Stevens, Star Trek: The Lost Years by J.M. Dillard, and Best Destiny by Diane Carey. Also, the entire series can now be found under the tag 'two gay uncles' for those that want to read from the beginning.
Disclaimer: totally fictional, completely not mine, and I'm okay with this.
Born In The Flame
Kirk has begun to think of it as the Pike-Archer Incident. The Parcher Incident. The Arike Incident? No, wait, that doesn't work.
Anyway, the moment where Pike had kissed Archer, the moment that Kirk had realized that they were together, and not just in terms of proximity. Kirk's been rolling that moment in his mind for a few weeks now, coming at it from all angles and trying to figure out what he's missed and how he'd missed it at all.
Really, he should've known the moment he'd seen that look of numb shock on Pike's face when he'd first told him about Archer being in the hospital. That should've been the giveaway because Pike never reacts that strongly to Starfleet personnel being injured unless he has a personal connection with them; not that he doesn't care about people being injured, but he never lets it stop him from doing what needs to be done, from performing his duties to the highest of his abilities. But he'd almost shoved everything off to go see Jonathan in the hospital, and that should've clued Kirk in right then that whatever was going on, it was deeper than Pike had led him to believe.
Of course, Kirk had been himself staggered by the news, hurting and angry and scared out of his mind when he'd heard about it, and he'd been too preoccupied to notice the look of distress on Pike's face or the way he'd slowly folded in on himself like he was trying to protect himself from the reality of it.
He's noticing it now, and it's surprising how much he's missed because he'd taken Pike at face value, hadn't dug too deep to see past the mask because back then, he'd needed the stabilizing influence of Pike's presence. Pike's always come across as a bit of a loner and a hardass, a mentor and a father figure all in one. He'd challenged and baited and disciplined Jim for three years, he'd pushed and fought until he'd ground out all the insecurities and useless anger, honed it into something sharper and more dangerous, and Jim is grateful for that laser focus and intensity because it means that when he finally goes on his first mission, he's going to be able to handle whatever curveballs the universe throws his way. Pike had broken him down and built him back up again, and even with the disciplinary hearing, he'd never given up on Jim, always pushing him to be more than what the world thought he'd be.
Pike had taught him how to fight smart and hard, but Jim had never noticed the toll it had taken on the man. He hadn't noticed until he'd seen the look on anguish on Pike's face as he'd looked at Jon lying in his hospital bed, recovering from almost dying, that look of longing and fear and anger and loneliness. Jim's seen that look on his face enough times to know what Pike had been going through, but at least he has Bones to take care of him.
Pike has nobody like that when Number One and Boyce aren't around. That thought twists something inside Jim. Nobody should be that alone, he thinks, everyone needs someone like McCoy in their lives.
"Hey." A wet, bunched-up towel hits him in the face, shaking him out of his thoughts, and he shoves the towel away with a disgusted sound. Liz Cox, head nurse and all-around poker cheat extraordinaire, walks out of the bathroom, naked and unashamed, and stands in front of him, hands on her hips, looking at him with some concern. "You doing okay there, Jennifer? You kind of zoned out on me for a while."
He scrubs the water off his face with his arm, glaring at her at offended dignity. "I'm fine, and could you not call me that when we're still naked? It's throwing me off my game."
She snorts. "Heather, your game's been off since I got here. Usually, you'd be all over me for round two right about now." She moves closer to him, pushing his thighs apart and standing between them, gently running her fingers through his hair. "C'mon, Tina, tell mama what's wrong."
"There is so much wrong with that sentence that I'm not even gonna try to respond to it," he groans, although he leans forward a bit so she can dig her fingers deeper into his scalp. It feels good to have someone to lean on, to have someone notice when you're not all right, and he wishes that this would be more than just sex and friendship, that it would be a real relationship, or at least that Bones were around to talk to him and get him out of his head. He's been scarce the last few weeks due to the last-minute rush of getting the Enterprise stocked up with the required medical supplies, plus a few extras that Bones knows they're going to need now that Kirk is in charge. Jim has his own things to worry about, but he still feels the lack of McCoy in his life, especially since he'd gotten used to having the man around all the time for three-plus years.
"Now, now, Danica," Liz tells him smartly, tapping his head to get him back into the conversation, "you know you want to talk about this with me. I can see it in those big blue dreamy eyes of yours."
Kirk is helpless to resist her good humor and wicked grin, so he leans up and kisses her, laughing when she nips his mouth. "I'm worried about Pike," he finally admits when they pull apart, her hands tracing patterns in his scalp while his fingers trace the curves of her hips and ass. "He's kind of been a wreck since Jonathan ended up in the hospital--"
"Ah," she says knowingly, tugging Kirk's face up to hers. "And you want to do something to help out, right?"
"Right, but I don't know what to do," Kirk sighs. "I can't make the guy heal any faster, not with that kind of injury." He rests his head against the valley of her breasts, mouthing the soft, smooth skin just because she smells lovely and tastes sweet and because she lets him. "And Pike's always working or in meetings, so he can't visit Archer as much as he wants to. I just don't know what to do."
After a moment's pause, Cox lets out a short, sharp sound of surprise. "Oh, fuck," she groans, sounding vaguely distressed as she pulls back to look down at Jim. "Don't even think about breaking him out, Jim. He's still healing and it's against regulations--"
"Since when do you care about regulations?" He deliberately doesn't mention that she's finally used his real name; McCoy's taught her about the headslapping and she's taken to it with enthusiasm.
"--and I am not going to lose my job or get disciplined because you want to play matchmaker for your two gay uncles," she finishes irritatedly, glaring at him while he smiles up at her.
"Okay, first," he counts on his fingers, "they are not actually my blood relatives--"
"Family isn't just biological, idiot. It's also who you choose."
"--second, I am not playing matchmaker--"
"Right, that's why you're planning on breaking an injured man out of the hospital so he can go spend time with his workaholic boyfriend."
"--third," Kirk interrupts, barreling through her comments like it's a race to see who's going to get the next word in, "you won't lose your job or get disciplined. I promise you," he says earnestly when she just looks at him. "No one will even know he's gone, and if anyone says anything to you, I will take full responsibility for all of it."
"Jesus, Evie--"
"Please, Liz." He can't bring himself to use the puppy dog eyes at her because she can see through his bullshit, just like McCoy (although the puppy look totally works on Bones, so there's that consolation), but this matters to him in ways he can't even begin to understand, so he just looks at her and hopes she can see the sincerity in his eyes. "Please help me? I need to do this for them, okay?"
She rests her forehead against his and sighs, kissing him back when he gently presses his mouth against hers. "Fine," she growls out, "I'll help. But this is the only time, you understand?"
He hugs her tightly, his face against her belly and his arms around her hips, feeling a wave of relief sweep over him. "You are so amazing," he says fervently. "I'd marry you if I didn't think you'd break out in hives."
She lightly slaps him upside the head. "Listen, Rachel, if you really want to marry some cranky medical professional, go ask McCoy. I'm sure he'd say yes in a heartbeat."
Kirk looks up at her with an astonished look on his face. "Who, McCoy? He spends most of his time threatening me with hyposprays. He calls me an idiot more than he uses my actual name. He says I'm gonna end up sending him into cardiac arrest if I get into another fight."
She rolls her eyes at him. "And you're supposed to be a genius."
He pauses for a moment, going over everything in his head, every look, every touch, every headslap, every heartfelt "Dammit, Jim" until he sees what she sees. "Huh," he says finally, feeling like he should've known this all along, except that it's McCoy and Kirk knows a lot about his best friend, but he hadn't known that. "Fascinating." He's gonna have to figure out how to work this in with what he knows about McCoy and how it relates to him; it's a whole new set of possibilities, and Kirk needs to figure them all out before he does anything to move them to the next level.
He's got a lot of work to do, he thinks as they get dressed and ready to leave, Cox calling him 'Angela' with a smile that means goodbye. Kirk hopes that she'll still play pool with him when he gets back from his first mission. She lies and cheats in order to win, and he respects that in a person.
***
This is how the conversation with Bones goes:
"Hey, Bones, wanna help me break Archer out of the hospital?"
"No."
"C'mon, it'll be fun."
"That's what you said the last time, and I ended up getting a hypospray in the ass and a lecture on drinking in moderation by a doctor who barely passed his medical exams. I have no ego left because of you, Jim."
"Please, Bones? I need your help with this. Pleeeeeeeeease?"
Pause. Sigh. "Fuck. Fine, fine, but if we get caught, this was all your stupid idea."
Of course, because it's Bones, there's a lot more eye-rolling and hand-flailing and he calls Jim an idiot at least five times, and Kirk gives him the puppy look because he knows that Bones can't resist that. It takes less than ten minutes for them to get from Archer's house, where they're staying and dog-sitting until Jonathan gets home, to Archer's hospital room, where he's spent the last few weeks bitching and moaning about being stuck in a hospital bed and driving the medical staff insane.
"Jim, get me out of here" is the first thing he says when Kirk walks into the room, looking hassled and irritated as the nurse takes a tricorder reading of him. "The food sucks, the entertainment is worse, Chapel keeps telling me that I need to behave myself or she'll break something important, and no one gives sponge baths anymore." He makes a face as the nurse rolls her eyes at him and walks out with a sharp warning that if he tries to get out of bed again, she's going to strap him down and enjoy it. "I hate hospitals," he groans, dropping his head back onto his pillow with a thump.
Kirk and McCoy hoot with laughter, earning a glare from Archer, but they're both too amused to actually stop. "You're a terrible patient, Arch," McCoy finally says when he's calmed down a little, wiping tears from his eyes. "I would've shot you full of Kayolane if I were your doctor."
"Which is another reason why I'm glad you're not my doctor, you hypo-happy lunatic," Archer retorts, although there's no heat in it because he's smiling at the both of them.
Archer knows a lot of Kirk's friends. After their first meeting, Kirk had realized that Archer was too alone, too cooped up in a house full of memories of people lost and failed missions, and his beagles could only do so much to make it all go away. So Jim had taken it upon himself to bring his friends by every few days to hang out, to drink beer and eat food, to play pool and marvel over Archer's music collection that spans genres and eras and cultures in ways that reminds Kirk of a museum, and generally shoot the shit with Jonathan. It hadn't been a hardship for any of them because Archer's a fun guy, always ready with a funny story, generous with his time and his space, and more than willing to kick all of their asses in any game they'd challenged him to because as he'd told them, "Just because I'm old, kids, doesn't mean you can beat me. I learned to play dirty a long time ago. Now sack up and let's go double or nothing on that bet."
The truth is, all of Kirk's friends love Archer. Sure they think he's a little eccentric with the whole beagle thing, but after they hear his stories of space-walking in a Vulcan EV suit and averting a Klingon civil war, most of them told by Kirk in a kind of breathless, giddy recitation that doesn't hide his hero worship, they readily agree that Archer's a fucking hero and can walk around the campus with his dogs all he wants. McCoy had mostly rolled his eyes and tuned out since he'd heard all these stories at least ten times before. He'd joked that Kirk should've started an Archer fan club, which Kirk has actually thought about doing, but hasn't yet because Bones and Archer would never stop mocking him if he did.
So McCoy and Archer have met enough times to get comfortable with each other, to get into that easy rhythm of bouncing zingers off each other and calling each other names. Kirk usually just likes to stand back and watch the show, but today is a jailbreak day so they don't have time for banter.
He moves closer to the bed and touches Archer's shoulder, breaking off their conversation as Archer looks up at him. "We're thinking of breaking you out for a few hours so you can go see Pike," he says in a low, conspiratorial voice, feeling his heart clench when he sees Archer light up at the thought. God, he'd really missed the ball on this one, he thinks, he should've seen this right away.
"Not gonna happen, Jim," Archer sighs, disappointment shading his voice. "They're really serious about keeping me here until I fully heal up, which means at least another week of observation." He scowls. "I think Hammersmith just wants me out of his hair for a few weeks while he holds round-tables, and this was the best he could come up with. You know how much he hates it when I use logic at those meetings."
McCoy snorts and Kirk grins; they've both met the Vice Admiral of Starfleet enough times to know that he and Archer were fated to never get along. Their arguments are legendary at Starfleet, spoken about in shocked whispers and low murmurs with plenty of dropped jaws, including the one time Archer had called him a pompous, manipulative son of a bitch who played games with peoples' lives and Hammersmith had roared that if Archer ever wanted to see space again, he'd shut his goddamn mouth right now. They'd almost come to blows that time, both of them angry and stubborn and unwilling to back down, and it had taken a group of their peers to hold them back as they'd shouted invective at each other. Ever after that, they'd maintained a respectful distance from each other, silently agreeing to never be in the same room if they could help it.
"I know," Kirk agrees, his hands jammed in his pockets as he goes through the plan in his head again. "But we can make it work."
"It's still a fucking stupid plan, Jim," McCoy says with a heavy sigh that means this is the fortieth time he's had this argument with Kirk, and it's the fortieth time he's lost it.
"It'll work," Jim insists stubbornly. "Look, we just have to break you out of here, which Cox said she'd help us do, and then get you to this shindig that Starfleet's throwing for some visiting dignitaries, and Pike will be there, and you can spend some time together. It's simple."
"It's doomed to fail," McCoy argues, although with no real conviction because Jim's already made his mind up and all Bones can do is go along for the ride.
"I'm all for it," Archer says quickly, relief evident in his voice. "Just get me the hell out of here before I start getting hooked on episodes of The Hills and enjoying hospital Jell-O."
Kirk grins at him and then gestures at McCoy. "Okay, so Bones is gonna get Pike to the party and Liz is going to be by in a minute to help break us out."
Archer frowns in thought. "How are we going to do that, though? Like I said, I'm still technically under observation and the doc's insisting that I stay put."
McCoy sighs. "Here we go," he mutters under his breath.
"I hope you like women's clothing," Kirk says with a wicked grin, and Archer's eyebrow goes up in surprise.
"What...?"
"Told you," McCoy rumbles, sounding suspiciously like he's trying not to laugh. "Stupid fucking plan."
"It'll work, non-believer," Jim snaps exasperatedly. "Instead of mocking my genius plan, how about you go get Pike already? The party's going to start in a bit."
McCoy makes disgruntled noises about asshole best friends who are also starship captains who never listen to a word he says and heads out the door while Kirk eyes Archer speculatively. "You're what, six feet and almost two hundred pounds?"
Archer makes a face, points a finger menacingly at Kirk. "This is not going to be one of those stories you tell people at parties, you get me, Jim?"
Jim salutes smartly. "Aye-aye, Admiral sir."
Archer has a put-upon look on his face that closely resembles the one Bones always gets when Jim talks him into doing something stupid, a fact that makes Jim smile. "I hope Chris appreciates everything I'm going through just to get to him," Archer grumbles, grabbing Jim's hand to be gently lifted out of bed.
"I'm almost certain that he will, Jonny." Kirk grins, even when Archer swats him upside the head with his free hand for calling him 'Jonny'.
***
Pike hates parties. He likes meeting new people well enough, and God knows, he's always loved meeting dignitaries from other planets who teach him about their unique cultures and languages, but he hates the awkward intimacy of Starfleet parties where everyone tries to hide the fact that they're there to network and makes awkward conversation about awkward topics while drinking too much and saying shit they shouldn't be saying. He's never sure which Circle of Hell the Starfleet parties inhabit, but he's pretty sure that Alighieri would agree that they belonged there if he were around to attend them.
So he's doing up the zipper on his dress uniform under McCoy's watchful eye, wishing that all high-ranking Starfleet staff weren't required to attend, and wondering exactly what McCoy is doing in his quarters waiting to accompany Pike to the party and how Kirk is involved. Because Jim has to be involved, this has his fingerprints all over, right down to the disgruntled, vaguely embarrassed look on McCoy's face that says this wasn't his idea.
"What's Jim planning?" he finally asks just to break the silence.
McCoy looks guilty, which doesn't bode well for Pike. "Nothing," he says quickly, looking anywhere but Pike's face. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Pike adjusts his collar, gives himself one last look in the mirror, and nods approvingly. Perfect and precise, just the way he likes it. "You're a terrible liar, Leonard," he says, smiling when McCoy winces at the name.
"Could you try not to sound like my mother when you say my name, sir?"
Pike holds back his laugh with great effort. "I shall endeavor to do just that, Doctor." He turns around to look at McCoy, holding out his hands and gesturing at himself. "What do you think? Do I pass muster?"
McCoy's smile is more genuine. "I think you look like you're going into war, sir."
Pike sighs at the accuracy of that statement. "It feels like it too. I hate parties, Len."
"Me too, sir," McCoy says sympathetically, holding out his arm for Pike to hold onto. Pike doesn't actually need the support; his legs have been working well for the past week and a bit, and while his right hip still hurts when he stands too long, he's mostly healed up and walking without any problems.
But it feels comforting to hold onto McCoy's arm for a few moments as they walk out the door, like he has someone to catch him if he falls, and he has a moment to miss Archer again before McCoy gently drops his hand and they make their way to the reception area and the party that neither one wants to attend.
***
Half an hour into the party, Chris is tired of answering questions about his experience aboard the Narada (some of the delegates come from different cultures where asking about something like this isn't as taboo as it is on Earth, and Chris does his best to answer their questions without an edge to his words, but some people just ask for gossip's sake, despite their common sense, and Pike doesn't hesitate to politely and firmly cut them off before they can finish their sentence), making small talk with the higher-ups in Starfleet, and discussing what comes next for this year's graduating class. The party has all the charm and appeal of a Command meeting, complete with Hammersmith weaving in and out of conversations with political talk, and despite the orchestra playing soothing music in the background, Pike wishes that McCoy had stuck around so that he'd at least have someone to commiserate with over how much he hates parties.
He's drifting in and out of conversation with the ambassadors to Djanai/Inari and trying to avoid any conversational pitfalls that might escalate their planetary dispute into a full-scale war when there's a murmur in the crowd, people moving and turning their heads to look around at someone that Pike can't see. He's about to crane his head to get a better view when the crowd of people in front of him stands back to let someone through, and Chris feels his heart stop.
Archer is standing next to Admirals April and Nogura, talking and laughing like he's never left, dressed in a pristine, fitted black suit with a light gray shirt and a slim black tie, looking so good and happy and healthy that Pike thinks his heart is going to explode from everything he's feeling. Then he looks over at Chris and smiles, walks toward him like nothing else matters, like no one else is there but Chris, and Pike can't breathe properly as Archer walks up to him and says, "Hello, Chris" in a soft, pleased voice.
"Jon." That's all he can say, that's all he can think, because on the list of things he'd never expected, this was at the top. The doctors had told him at least another week of observation, a few more days at home getting rested up before he could face the world again, and Chris had resigned himself to another seven days of too-short comm messages, letters written on Starfleet stationary passed back and forth, and short visits that were made even shorter by his ever-present duties.
But instead he's here, dressed in the suit that he'd promised Chris thirty years ago, three months ago, and he's smiling and holding out his hand to Chris. All he can do is take it and let himself be pulled in close, let Archer slide an arm around his waist and step back until they're in the middle of an empty space that serves as a dance floor. There's barely a moment to ask Jon what's going on before the maestro waves his hands with a flourish and a soft, slow song starts, all piano and violins and a young woman singing about love and finding her way back home in a sweet, hopeful voice that makes Chris tighten his grip on Archer's shoulder.
"Jesus, Jon," he says, torn between laughter and feeling exposed at the way Archer's wrapped around him like he's never going to let go, the way he looks at Chris like no one else is the room but them. "Way to make a fucking entrance."
Archer looks absurdly pleased, one hand gentle against Pike's back while the other curls around Pike's hand like a statement. "Told you I was gonna take you dancing."
Chris raises an eyebrow. "In front of Command and a number of foreign delegates?"
"It seemed like the perfect time for our second date." Archer shrugs lightly. "And I've waited long enough for this, you know?"
It's that same feeling he always gets when he's around Archer, that unnamable emotion that seems to live in his belly and travels up to his throat every time the man smiles at him, touches him, and Chris has to take a deep breath before he can even think of being able to speak clearly. "I know." And he does, he really does; he's waited so long for this to happen that at times, it had felt like it would never happen, and he'd been bracing himself for another week of waiting when--
And then everything clicks in from McCoy's uneasy demeanor to his disappearance to Archer's sudden appearance, and he groans and briefly drops his head against Archer's shoulder. "Kirk brought you here, didn't he?"
He can feel Archer's smile against the top of his head. "He said something about how he wanted us to have fun for once before the grads go off on their first mission, so here I am. I've always liked that kid."
Chris tries to be indignant about the whole thing, especially since he's pretty sure that someone in Command is going to have his balls on a plate for Kirk breaking Archer out of the hospital before he'd been officially discharged, but Jon is warm and solid against him, rumbling with contentment, and Chris can't bring himself to give a shit if the rules have been violated. "You never follow the rules," he says affectionately, exasperatedly.
"Rules were made to be broken," Archer says with a wicked grin, somehow managing to pull Chris even closer to him, both of them just swaying in time to the music and ignoring the stares of everyone around them. "And I'm fine with breaking them for you."
"Romantic."
"I'm just trying to get you into bed," Archer murmurs. "Is it working?"
Pike laughs softly and nods. "Like a charm."
"Your place or mine?"
"I like that you're asking this time," Chris teases, skimming his fingers gently against the smooth edge of Jon's cheek. "I'm not sure how to deal with that."
Archer leans in until his mouth is almost touching Chris's. "Your place or mine?"
"Ask me nicely and I might say mine," Chris murmurs, feeling his breath catch at the nearness of Jon.
"Say yes," Jon orders quietly.
"Yes."
There isn't even a slight pause or hesitation, and Archer smiles and steps back a little, his hand in Chris's as he leads them out of the reception area. Chris nods at some of the delegates who are looking at them with interest, probably wondering what this little byplay was all about, because it would be impolite to just ignore them as Archer is doing; although Jon waves at Hammersmith with an impudent air, laughing softly when the Vice Admiral shifts uncomfortably and acknowledges his wave with a stiff nod.
Pike spots Kirk and McCoy hidden in a corner of the room somewhere, grinning like maniacs with Kirk giving Pike a thumbs-up sign, and he laughs and gives them a half-wave, feeling self-conscious but enjoying the look of glee on Kirk's face and the gentle amusement on McCoy's.
Archer looks over at them and laughs. "Idiots," he says fondly.
Pike gives them one last look as they head out the door, notices the way they stand so close, the way McCoy is positioned around Kirk like a protective shield, and more things fall into place. "You think they're ever going to come to their senses about each other?" he asks Archer sotto voce as they make their way to Pike's Starfleet-approved vehicle.
"I think Jim's caught a clue at least," Archer says, his face filled with an unholy delight as he slides into the front seat, leaning forward to cup Pike's face and pull him in for a thorough kiss that leaves Chris breathless and hard. "God, I've wanted to do that since I saw you in that goddamn dress uniform," he groans, slipping two fingers under Pike's collar to caress the line of his neck.
Chris makes a soft noise at Jon's touch. "I didn't think that uniforms got you off," he manages to get out.
"They don't," Archer admits, pressing another brief kiss against Chris's mouth. "But you make it look good."
Chris counts to ten and tries to get his treacherous body back under control. "Jon, I'm going to need my hands to drive."
"Auto-pilot," he says breathlessly, and Pike moans as his hands start undoing his zipper and he has to pull away to glare at Archer.
"I am not," he says firmly, "having sex in the parking lot of Starfleet fucking Command's headquarters."
"Come on," Jon laughs, tracing his fingers over the exasperated line of Pike's eyebrows. "Live a little."
"Jon--"
"Chris--"
"I'm not twenty-three anymore."
Archer rolls his eyes, but Chris can see the smile he's trying to hide. "You wouldn't have done this shit when you were twenty-three either, so stop lying."
"I might have," Chris says huffily, starting the car against Archer's protests, "if you'd talked me into it."
Archer says "Ah" like he finally understands what the problem is. "So you want to be talked into getting fucked in front of Starfleet HQ?"
"No, I don't, you madman," Chris laughs as he pulls out of the parking lot. "I want to get fucked in my house in my own bed where it's comfortable and there's no chance of someone catching us. Or worse, filming us and sending the video all over the sat-comm."
"Well--"
"Not even if you paid me, Jon."
Archer hides his smile behind his hand, shifting in his seat to get comfortable. "It was just a suggestion."
Chris pauses for a moment. "We might do the filming thing later, but no one else sees it but us," he says mildly, just to hear Jon laugh.
***
Back at the party, Kirk and McCoy are still in their little corner of the room, drinking from champagne flutes and high-fiving each other. Or rather, Kirk holds his hand up for a high-five and McCoy looks at him like he really should know better.
"C'mon, Bones," Kirk whines, "just this once."
"I don't do high-fives," McCoy says archly. "No high-fives, no fist bumps, no elaborate handshakes. I still have some dignity left, dammit."
Kirk's hand is still up in the air when Admiral Nogura passes by, deep in conversation with Admiral April. Without even looking up, Nogura waves an absent hand at McCoy and says, "Dr. McCoy, would you please high-five Captain Kirk so we can all go on with our lives?" and goes back to his conversation with April as they wander off to meet with the ambassadors from Talin.
Flushed with embarrassment, McCoy slaps his hand against Kirk's hard enough to sting, ignoring Jim's bright, cheerful smile. "Now was that so bad?" he asks Bones happily.
McCoy downs the rest of his champagne in one gulp, not caring how rude and uncouth it appears to the rest of the crowd, and then plucks Kirk's flute out of his hand, finishing off the last of it. "You know we're probably going to get charged with kidnapping for this," he says bleakly. "And right before our first mission."
"We're not gonna get charged with kidnapping," Kirk says for what seems to be the hundredth fucking time. "I told you, Cox has it covered. She's on shift, the doctor's already made his rounds, and Archer will be back tomorrow before anyone even notices he's gone."
"Tomorrow morning, huh?" McCoy's voice is drier than sand. "You did see the way he and Pike were looking at each other, right?"
Jim frowns. "So?"
McCoy actually laughs, a brief burst of laughter that is neither mean nor dismissive, but genuinely amused. "So you'll be lucky if they even make it out of bed for lunch, let alone to go back to the hospital."
"Ah, shit," Kirk sighs, going through all his back-up plans for one that won't get them disciplined by Hammersmith and Nogura. Finally, he's forced to admit that he doesn't have one, at least not one that doesn't involve him sneaking into Archer's room and huddling under the covers pretending to be him. McCoy would have a heart attack if he even suggested it. "I'll just take the blame for all of it," he says with a shrug, not really too concerned about the consequences after seeing the looks on Archer and Pike's faces. "It was worth it."
He isn't surprised when McCoy slides an arm around his shoulders, his thumb tucked into the collar of his green dress command uniform. Instead, he leans back with a smile, thinking of what Cox had said to him, thinking of how McCoy fits into his life and all the possibilities he can have with him. "Hey, Bones?"
"What?"
"Wanna go back to Archer's and fuck on his pool table?"
There's a long moment of silence, long enough that Jim wonders if Liz was wrong, if he'd miscalculated badly enough that he's possibly just ruined the best friendship of his life, and then McCoy lets out a huff of laughter. "He'll kill you if you wreck his table."
Kirk pretends to think about it. "Hmm, how about his kitchen table?"
"He eats there," McCoy says aghast, sounding like one of Jim's scandalized aunts, which cracks him right up.
"Okay," he manages to choke out, "how about his bed then?"
"We're putting new sheets on after, right?"
Kirk groans. "If I say yes, will you actually fuck me?"
"Say yes first."
Kirk hangs his head in defeat. "Yes, we will put new sheets on his bed after. And keep the dogs out of the room while we are, er, occupied. And do the laundry if it'll make you feel better."
"It will."
"Fine, we'll do all of that then." Kirk turns his face up to McCoy, giving him a plaintive look that he knows Bones can't resist. "So we gonna fuck?"
"You're so smooth, Jim," Bones says wryly, laughing when Jim leans up to press a sloppy, enthusiastic kiss against his mouth. "Like silk. No wonder everyone wants in your pants."
"Hey, these are Starfleet regulation pants. Everyone wants in them."
McCoy doesn't pinch the bridge of his nose, but Kirk knows he wants to. It's his way of showing affection, Kirk's almost certain of it. "So what are we waiting for?" he finally asks Jim, his eyes alight with amusement and maybe something deeper that Kirk's still trying to come to terms with.
"Nothing at all," Jim grins, his hand in McCoy's as they make their way out of the reception area.
***
They totally fuck on Archer's kitchen table, but only because Kirk surprises Bones with a blowjob when he isn't expecting it.
Neither one complains.
***
Pike lives in a small but dignified Victorian house somewhere around Van Ness Avenue that is full of antiquities that have been in the Pike family for years; his mother had insisted he take as much as he could when he'd moved permanently to San Francisco after getting his captaincy. His favorite is still the antique, battered steamer trunk, covered in rips and tears and remnants of old travel stickers, passed down through four generations of Pikes, that currently holds his old lieutenant's uniform and retired gold command shirt.
The house is an indulgence, one of the few he allows himself. He's given up everything for Starfleet, including the chance to start a family and have a life outside of cadets and teaching and endless meetings and paperwork, and he'd wanted one thing that wasn't tied to Starfleet and its regs, one thing that was completely illogical and beautiful and his. This house is everything he'd wanted and more, and he loves it almost as much as he'd loved the Enterprise and the Yorktown, almost as much as he still loves the vast emptiness of space and its clutter of planets and swirls of galaxies and stars that dot it at random intervals.
Right now, though, he's having difficulty remembering how to open the fucking lock because Jon's got his hands wrapped firmly around Chris's hips, his cock pressing against Chris's ass and making him moan as he tries to remember what his keycode is and how it's used. Archer is mouthing obscene messages against Chris's nape with his lips and teeth and tongue, whispering all the things he's going to do to Chris when he gets him inside, and Pike is seriously considering kicking the door down before Jon makes him come in his pants because he's enough of a bastard to do it.
He finally gets the door open through sheer dumb luck and instinct, and they fall into the foyer with startled laughter and muffled curses as they bang their shins against the antique, narrow bench against the wall. It feels like a repeat of thirty years ago, this desperation and need that burns through them, only this time, Jon has his hands all over Chris, kissing him like he needs him for air, like he hasn't been touched in forever, kissing him with a kind of graceless hunger that leaves Chris shaky and speechless. He shoves Archer against the nearest wall, holding him in place with his hands and his body, and kisses him slowly and thoroughly until Jon's rocking his hips up in a restless, needy rhythm.
If he didn't think his knees would give out, he'd go down and suck Jon's cock, just to taste him, just to make him moan and fist his hands in Chris's hair, but his knees still aren't as sturdy as they used to be, and Jon sounds like he's going to go on without Chris if Pike keeps fucking around with him, and Chris has waited long enough for this that waiting even a second longer has become an impossibility. So he pushes Archer towards the stairs, somehow both of them making it up to the bedroom without tripping over anything or killing themselves, a fact that would be impressive if Archer wasn't palming Chris's dick and driving him crazy at the same time.
They hit the bed with a soft whump, Archer laughing into Chris's mouth, Pike making exasperated sounds as he struggles with Jon's jacket and his tie and his shirt. When they're finally naked, Chris takes a minute to admire the lines of Jon's body, the curve of muscle and warm skin, the faint scars all over that tell stories of who Jon is and where he's been.
"Gonna stare all night?" Jon asks softly, his fingers stroking promises against the slant of Pike's hipbone.
"Just admiring," Chris murmurs. "I want to take my time for once."
Gently, sweetly, Archer slides his fingers through Chris's hair and pulls him down against him, kissing him and rocking against him until Pike is gasping and begging him to stop before it's over.
It's everything it was thirty years ago, but so much more now, full of things that Chris can only feel, not articulate, but Archer seems to understand what he's trying to say with his mouth and his hands and his cock. By the time Chris has stretched Jon open with his fingers ("It's your turn to top," he laughs gently. "I promised, remember?) and slid inside him, Jon is spread out on Pike's lap, his hand digging bruises into Chris's thigh as he groans and rides Chris mercilessly, crying out when he comes. Chris's orgasm is almost an afterthought, still entranced by the sight of Jon stretched above him, taking everything that Chris has given him and giving it back with his kisses and his touches. His face is terrifyingly open and raw, not hiding anything about what Chris means to him, how long he's waited for Chris, and that, more than anything, pushes Chris into coming, moaning Jon's name like a prayer and shivering with aftershocks when Jon stretches out beside him and kisses him gently, lovingly.
"Now that," Jon says with shaky laughter, "was worth the wait."
Chris is too fucked out to really respond to that coherently, his legs still shaking and his nerves still singing, so he just curls up around Archer and lets him wrap his arms around Chris, lets him murmur soft, soothing words that sound like nothing but mean "I love you" because Chris now knows the difference between what Jon says and what he means. He isn't sure he's ready to say those words yet -- at least not in Standard, although he's whispered it in Vulcan a few times -- and he doesn't think Archer is either, but he's not worried. They'll get there eventually, now that they have the time to get to know each other, to make it work
Now that they have time.
***
The doorbell is insistent and irritating, and Chris is growling like a bear as he throws on a pair of shorts and his robe and eases down the stairs to answer it. He's sure it's Kirk coming by to irritate him in some way, maybe even to gloat and ask impertinent questions, so when he flings open the door with a snarled "You rang?" he's a little startled to see Number One standing in front of him with her identkit held out in front of her face.
She looks him over with a raised eyebrow, taking in the shorts and the bare chest and the mussed-up hair, and simply says, "Leeloo Dallas, multipass?"
"Shit," he groans, dropping his head down in defeat. "I told Jim not to call you that."
"Because he listens so well," she says coolly, all her amusement in her eyes and in the slight quirk of her mouth.
Sighing and feeling embarrassed, which is not a new sensation for him these days, he yanks his robe closed, belts it together, and stands back from the door, inviting her in with a wave of his hand. She steps in with her usual grace, nodding approvingly at the antique bench by the wall, which she has the sense to avoid unlike him.
"You staying for breakfast?" he asks when the humiliation dies down and his face isn't threatening to burn itself off in self-defense.
"I could eat," she says nonchalantly. "If I'm not disturbing anything?"
She's not really, and Chris wants to spend more time with her before she heads off with the Enterprise crew, but he isn't sure if Archer is up for company this early in the morning after such a late night. "You're not," he says easily, thinking he'll dash up as fast as his knees will carry him and at least give Jon a heads-up on their breakfast guest.
And then Jon comes down in Chris's sweats and his Mojave Rattlers tee shirt from Chris's high school days, both items stretched tight against his chest and hips, not fitting him in all the right ways, and Pike loses his ability to form a coherent sentence. "Um."
Archer grins at him like he knows exactly the effect he's having on Chris, and Number One is doing a terrible job of hiding her little snickers of amusement. "I didn't mean to interrupt," she says, trying for bland and missing it by an entire goddamn country mile. "I just came by see how Chris was doing."
"Don't worry about it," Archer says cheerfully, waving off all her objections. "I was just coming down to make coffee and breakfast if anyone was up for it."
Chris thumbs his eyebrow, wondering if things are going to get any worse.
"I used to be Chris's XO on the Yorktown," she says with a smile, holding out her hand. "Just call me Leeloo. It's apparently my new name now."
Archer takes it and shakes it firmly. "I'm Jonathan Archer. I'm Chris's boyfriend."
It could get so much worse, he realizes as they both grin at each other, obviously recognizing kindred spirits in the other. "I used to have dignity, you know," he grumbles, starting when Jon leans in to kiss him good morning, his hand on Chris's ass like Number One isn't there.
"Dignity is overrated," he tells Chris with a laugh. "It's all about fun and sex in public places for you now." He motions toward a small, cheerful room in the back. "Kitchen that way?"
"And to the left." Chris leans in to kiss Jon again simply because he can. "I want eggs and bacon."
"Just toast and some coffee for me," Number One says politely, moving next to Pike, both of them watching as Jon walks toward the kitchen in Chris's sweats and his too-tight shirt. "He is--"
"He is," Chris says softly, feeling something warm and sweet settle in his belly and stay there.
"And he is aesthetically pleasing as well."
He looks at her with a raised eyebrow. "Are you saying he has a nice ass, Number One?"
She shrugs. "Merely pointing out that he is built very well."
He puts his face in his hands, unable to do anything but laugh. "He really is."
She rests her hand on his shoulder, squeezes gently, and it feels like approval. "It is good to see you happy," she says seriously, softly. "After... everything that happened, I thought--"
"Me too," he sighs, pressing his hand against hers, feeling that connection that he always feels around her, all the warmth and caring and friendship that she gives him when he's with her. "But I have good friends."
"And a good boyfriend," she says mischievously.
"A very good boyfriend," he says with a waggle of his eyebrows, laughing when she laughs. It feels good to have her here, to have her and Archer meet; it's like he's introducing part of his family to Jon, making room for him in his life, and when he comes out of the kitchen to yell that the coffee's ready, Chris lets himself put an arm around Number One's shoulder as they walk to the kitchen.
"So," he grins wickedly at her, "Leeloo."
"I am going to make you pay for that, Chris."
"Hey, at least it wasn't Ash."
She doesn't roll her eyes at him, but he knows she wants to. "I don't have the chainsaw. What would be the point?"
He has a really good life.
***
It turns out that the hospital notices that Archer's gone, but no one's brought up on charges after Archer goes and has a little talk with Hammersmith. No one knows what was said, but there had been no arguing, no yelling, and no bruises, so everyone assumes that things have gone well, although the gossip mills go into overtime on what blackmail material Archer has to make Hammersmith give up the chance to mess with Archer.
Either way, Archer comes out on top.
He also finds out about the kitchen table and orders Kirk and McCoy to clean the kitchen from top to bottom while Pike sits in a corner and laughs his ass off, drinking beer and reading the news on his data pad and running his fingers through Archer's hair when Archer's close enough to let him.
Jim and Bones just smirk at each other the whole time. They really don't regret a single thing.
Some day, I will be geeky enough to make a track listing of all the songs I listened to when writing about Pike and Archer, but today is not that day. Instead, I'm gonna go to bed and pretend like I'm not plotting out George and Winona's epic romance in my head.
Cee: holy shit, The Hills is still on in 2258?
Max: Bad TV never dies. I'm sure Speidi is cryogenically frozen so that when they figure out how to cure death, they'll be brought back to attention-whore their way through pop culture again.
Cee: oh god, it's an eternal nightmare from which we will NEVER AWAKE.
Max: I am certain that The Hills is the reason that Vulcan made contact with Earth so late. They took one look at that and went "...do we really want to make contact after this?"
Cee: aaaaahahahahaha. _this race is quite primitive, despite its technological advances. perhaps another century will bring greater enlightenment._
Max: Meanwhile, the hundredth remake of Beverly Hills 90210 with robots is still #1 in the galaxy, which hurts all Vulcans in their souls.
Cee: it's like in Spaceballs. we'll be right back with a review of Rocky Five.... Thousand.
And really, that explains everything about us that you always wanted to know, but never dared ask.
So much love to superjoydrop for editing this with her usual enthusiasm and thoroughness, despite being sick. I love that she gets all my Trek book references and squees about Robert April with me. For bozaloshtsh because a) it is her birthday tomorrow, and b) she wanted Archer riding Pike (and who am I to say no?) and for traveller because I live to make her happy. Nurse Cox was brought back by special request for dine because she is one of the best people ever, and Number One's scene is courtesy of taraljc who gave me the idea in the first place.
Note: contains vague references to Prime Directive by Judith and Garfield Reeves-Stevens, Star Trek: The Lost Years by J.M. Dillard, and Best Destiny by Diane Carey. Also, the entire series can now be found under the tag 'two gay uncles' for those that want to read from the beginning.
Disclaimer: totally fictional, completely not mine, and I'm okay with this.
Born In The Flame
Kirk has begun to think of it as the Pike-Archer Incident. The Parcher Incident. The Arike Incident? No, wait, that doesn't work.
Anyway, the moment where Pike had kissed Archer, the moment that Kirk had realized that they were together, and not just in terms of proximity. Kirk's been rolling that moment in his mind for a few weeks now, coming at it from all angles and trying to figure out what he's missed and how he'd missed it at all.
Really, he should've known the moment he'd seen that look of numb shock on Pike's face when he'd first told him about Archer being in the hospital. That should've been the giveaway because Pike never reacts that strongly to Starfleet personnel being injured unless he has a personal connection with them; not that he doesn't care about people being injured, but he never lets it stop him from doing what needs to be done, from performing his duties to the highest of his abilities. But he'd almost shoved everything off to go see Jonathan in the hospital, and that should've clued Kirk in right then that whatever was going on, it was deeper than Pike had led him to believe.
Of course, Kirk had been himself staggered by the news, hurting and angry and scared out of his mind when he'd heard about it, and he'd been too preoccupied to notice the look of distress on Pike's face or the way he'd slowly folded in on himself like he was trying to protect himself from the reality of it.
He's noticing it now, and it's surprising how much he's missed because he'd taken Pike at face value, hadn't dug too deep to see past the mask because back then, he'd needed the stabilizing influence of Pike's presence. Pike's always come across as a bit of a loner and a hardass, a mentor and a father figure all in one. He'd challenged and baited and disciplined Jim for three years, he'd pushed and fought until he'd ground out all the insecurities and useless anger, honed it into something sharper and more dangerous, and Jim is grateful for that laser focus and intensity because it means that when he finally goes on his first mission, he's going to be able to handle whatever curveballs the universe throws his way. Pike had broken him down and built him back up again, and even with the disciplinary hearing, he'd never given up on Jim, always pushing him to be more than what the world thought he'd be.
Pike had taught him how to fight smart and hard, but Jim had never noticed the toll it had taken on the man. He hadn't noticed until he'd seen the look on anguish on Pike's face as he'd looked at Jon lying in his hospital bed, recovering from almost dying, that look of longing and fear and anger and loneliness. Jim's seen that look on his face enough times to know what Pike had been going through, but at least he has Bones to take care of him.
Pike has nobody like that when Number One and Boyce aren't around. That thought twists something inside Jim. Nobody should be that alone, he thinks, everyone needs someone like McCoy in their lives.
"Hey." A wet, bunched-up towel hits him in the face, shaking him out of his thoughts, and he shoves the towel away with a disgusted sound. Liz Cox, head nurse and all-around poker cheat extraordinaire, walks out of the bathroom, naked and unashamed, and stands in front of him, hands on her hips, looking at him with some concern. "You doing okay there, Jennifer? You kind of zoned out on me for a while."
He scrubs the water off his face with his arm, glaring at her at offended dignity. "I'm fine, and could you not call me that when we're still naked? It's throwing me off my game."
She snorts. "Heather, your game's been off since I got here. Usually, you'd be all over me for round two right about now." She moves closer to him, pushing his thighs apart and standing between them, gently running her fingers through his hair. "C'mon, Tina, tell mama what's wrong."
"There is so much wrong with that sentence that I'm not even gonna try to respond to it," he groans, although he leans forward a bit so she can dig her fingers deeper into his scalp. It feels good to have someone to lean on, to have someone notice when you're not all right, and he wishes that this would be more than just sex and friendship, that it would be a real relationship, or at least that Bones were around to talk to him and get him out of his head. He's been scarce the last few weeks due to the last-minute rush of getting the Enterprise stocked up with the required medical supplies, plus a few extras that Bones knows they're going to need now that Kirk is in charge. Jim has his own things to worry about, but he still feels the lack of McCoy in his life, especially since he'd gotten used to having the man around all the time for three-plus years.
"Now, now, Danica," Liz tells him smartly, tapping his head to get him back into the conversation, "you know you want to talk about this with me. I can see it in those big blue dreamy eyes of yours."
Kirk is helpless to resist her good humor and wicked grin, so he leans up and kisses her, laughing when she nips his mouth. "I'm worried about Pike," he finally admits when they pull apart, her hands tracing patterns in his scalp while his fingers trace the curves of her hips and ass. "He's kind of been a wreck since Jonathan ended up in the hospital--"
"Ah," she says knowingly, tugging Kirk's face up to hers. "And you want to do something to help out, right?"
"Right, but I don't know what to do," Kirk sighs. "I can't make the guy heal any faster, not with that kind of injury." He rests his head against the valley of her breasts, mouthing the soft, smooth skin just because she smells lovely and tastes sweet and because she lets him. "And Pike's always working or in meetings, so he can't visit Archer as much as he wants to. I just don't know what to do."
After a moment's pause, Cox lets out a short, sharp sound of surprise. "Oh, fuck," she groans, sounding vaguely distressed as she pulls back to look down at Jim. "Don't even think about breaking him out, Jim. He's still healing and it's against regulations--"
"Since when do you care about regulations?" He deliberately doesn't mention that she's finally used his real name; McCoy's taught her about the headslapping and she's taken to it with enthusiasm.
"--and I am not going to lose my job or get disciplined because you want to play matchmaker for your two gay uncles," she finishes irritatedly, glaring at him while he smiles up at her.
"Okay, first," he counts on his fingers, "they are not actually my blood relatives--"
"Family isn't just biological, idiot. It's also who you choose."
"--second, I am not playing matchmaker--"
"Right, that's why you're planning on breaking an injured man out of the hospital so he can go spend time with his workaholic boyfriend."
"--third," Kirk interrupts, barreling through her comments like it's a race to see who's going to get the next word in, "you won't lose your job or get disciplined. I promise you," he says earnestly when she just looks at him. "No one will even know he's gone, and if anyone says anything to you, I will take full responsibility for all of it."
"Jesus, Evie--"
"Please, Liz." He can't bring himself to use the puppy dog eyes at her because she can see through his bullshit, just like McCoy (although the puppy look totally works on Bones, so there's that consolation), but this matters to him in ways he can't even begin to understand, so he just looks at her and hopes she can see the sincerity in his eyes. "Please help me? I need to do this for them, okay?"
She rests her forehead against his and sighs, kissing him back when he gently presses his mouth against hers. "Fine," she growls out, "I'll help. But this is the only time, you understand?"
He hugs her tightly, his face against her belly and his arms around her hips, feeling a wave of relief sweep over him. "You are so amazing," he says fervently. "I'd marry you if I didn't think you'd break out in hives."
She lightly slaps him upside the head. "Listen, Rachel, if you really want to marry some cranky medical professional, go ask McCoy. I'm sure he'd say yes in a heartbeat."
Kirk looks up at her with an astonished look on his face. "Who, McCoy? He spends most of his time threatening me with hyposprays. He calls me an idiot more than he uses my actual name. He says I'm gonna end up sending him into cardiac arrest if I get into another fight."
She rolls her eyes at him. "And you're supposed to be a genius."
He pauses for a moment, going over everything in his head, every look, every touch, every headslap, every heartfelt "Dammit, Jim" until he sees what she sees. "Huh," he says finally, feeling like he should've known this all along, except that it's McCoy and Kirk knows a lot about his best friend, but he hadn't known that. "Fascinating." He's gonna have to figure out how to work this in with what he knows about McCoy and how it relates to him; it's a whole new set of possibilities, and Kirk needs to figure them all out before he does anything to move them to the next level.
He's got a lot of work to do, he thinks as they get dressed and ready to leave, Cox calling him 'Angela' with a smile that means goodbye. Kirk hopes that she'll still play pool with him when he gets back from his first mission. She lies and cheats in order to win, and he respects that in a person.
***
This is how the conversation with Bones goes:
"Hey, Bones, wanna help me break Archer out of the hospital?"
"No."
"C'mon, it'll be fun."
"That's what you said the last time, and I ended up getting a hypospray in the ass and a lecture on drinking in moderation by a doctor who barely passed his medical exams. I have no ego left because of you, Jim."
"Please, Bones? I need your help with this. Pleeeeeeeeease?"
Pause. Sigh. "Fuck. Fine, fine, but if we get caught, this was all your stupid idea."
Of course, because it's Bones, there's a lot more eye-rolling and hand-flailing and he calls Jim an idiot at least five times, and Kirk gives him the puppy look because he knows that Bones can't resist that. It takes less than ten minutes for them to get from Archer's house, where they're staying and dog-sitting until Jonathan gets home, to Archer's hospital room, where he's spent the last few weeks bitching and moaning about being stuck in a hospital bed and driving the medical staff insane.
"Jim, get me out of here" is the first thing he says when Kirk walks into the room, looking hassled and irritated as the nurse takes a tricorder reading of him. "The food sucks, the entertainment is worse, Chapel keeps telling me that I need to behave myself or she'll break something important, and no one gives sponge baths anymore." He makes a face as the nurse rolls her eyes at him and walks out with a sharp warning that if he tries to get out of bed again, she's going to strap him down and enjoy it. "I hate hospitals," he groans, dropping his head back onto his pillow with a thump.
Kirk and McCoy hoot with laughter, earning a glare from Archer, but they're both too amused to actually stop. "You're a terrible patient, Arch," McCoy finally says when he's calmed down a little, wiping tears from his eyes. "I would've shot you full of Kayolane if I were your doctor."
"Which is another reason why I'm glad you're not my doctor, you hypo-happy lunatic," Archer retorts, although there's no heat in it because he's smiling at the both of them.
Archer knows a lot of Kirk's friends. After their first meeting, Kirk had realized that Archer was too alone, too cooped up in a house full of memories of people lost and failed missions, and his beagles could only do so much to make it all go away. So Jim had taken it upon himself to bring his friends by every few days to hang out, to drink beer and eat food, to play pool and marvel over Archer's music collection that spans genres and eras and cultures in ways that reminds Kirk of a museum, and generally shoot the shit with Jonathan. It hadn't been a hardship for any of them because Archer's a fun guy, always ready with a funny story, generous with his time and his space, and more than willing to kick all of their asses in any game they'd challenged him to because as he'd told them, "Just because I'm old, kids, doesn't mean you can beat me. I learned to play dirty a long time ago. Now sack up and let's go double or nothing on that bet."
The truth is, all of Kirk's friends love Archer. Sure they think he's a little eccentric with the whole beagle thing, but after they hear his stories of space-walking in a Vulcan EV suit and averting a Klingon civil war, most of them told by Kirk in a kind of breathless, giddy recitation that doesn't hide his hero worship, they readily agree that Archer's a fucking hero and can walk around the campus with his dogs all he wants. McCoy had mostly rolled his eyes and tuned out since he'd heard all these stories at least ten times before. He'd joked that Kirk should've started an Archer fan club, which Kirk has actually thought about doing, but hasn't yet because Bones and Archer would never stop mocking him if he did.
So McCoy and Archer have met enough times to get comfortable with each other, to get into that easy rhythm of bouncing zingers off each other and calling each other names. Kirk usually just likes to stand back and watch the show, but today is a jailbreak day so they don't have time for banter.
He moves closer to the bed and touches Archer's shoulder, breaking off their conversation as Archer looks up at him. "We're thinking of breaking you out for a few hours so you can go see Pike," he says in a low, conspiratorial voice, feeling his heart clench when he sees Archer light up at the thought. God, he'd really missed the ball on this one, he thinks, he should've seen this right away.
"Not gonna happen, Jim," Archer sighs, disappointment shading his voice. "They're really serious about keeping me here until I fully heal up, which means at least another week of observation." He scowls. "I think Hammersmith just wants me out of his hair for a few weeks while he holds round-tables, and this was the best he could come up with. You know how much he hates it when I use logic at those meetings."
McCoy snorts and Kirk grins; they've both met the Vice Admiral of Starfleet enough times to know that he and Archer were fated to never get along. Their arguments are legendary at Starfleet, spoken about in shocked whispers and low murmurs with plenty of dropped jaws, including the one time Archer had called him a pompous, manipulative son of a bitch who played games with peoples' lives and Hammersmith had roared that if Archer ever wanted to see space again, he'd shut his goddamn mouth right now. They'd almost come to blows that time, both of them angry and stubborn and unwilling to back down, and it had taken a group of their peers to hold them back as they'd shouted invective at each other. Ever after that, they'd maintained a respectful distance from each other, silently agreeing to never be in the same room if they could help it.
"I know," Kirk agrees, his hands jammed in his pockets as he goes through the plan in his head again. "But we can make it work."
"It's still a fucking stupid plan, Jim," McCoy says with a heavy sigh that means this is the fortieth time he's had this argument with Kirk, and it's the fortieth time he's lost it.
"It'll work," Jim insists stubbornly. "Look, we just have to break you out of here, which Cox said she'd help us do, and then get you to this shindig that Starfleet's throwing for some visiting dignitaries, and Pike will be there, and you can spend some time together. It's simple."
"It's doomed to fail," McCoy argues, although with no real conviction because Jim's already made his mind up and all Bones can do is go along for the ride.
"I'm all for it," Archer says quickly, relief evident in his voice. "Just get me the hell out of here before I start getting hooked on episodes of The Hills and enjoying hospital Jell-O."
Kirk grins at him and then gestures at McCoy. "Okay, so Bones is gonna get Pike to the party and Liz is going to be by in a minute to help break us out."
Archer frowns in thought. "How are we going to do that, though? Like I said, I'm still technically under observation and the doc's insisting that I stay put."
McCoy sighs. "Here we go," he mutters under his breath.
"I hope you like women's clothing," Kirk says with a wicked grin, and Archer's eyebrow goes up in surprise.
"What...?"
"Told you," McCoy rumbles, sounding suspiciously like he's trying not to laugh. "Stupid fucking plan."
"It'll work, non-believer," Jim snaps exasperatedly. "Instead of mocking my genius plan, how about you go get Pike already? The party's going to start in a bit."
McCoy makes disgruntled noises about asshole best friends who are also starship captains who never listen to a word he says and heads out the door while Kirk eyes Archer speculatively. "You're what, six feet and almost two hundred pounds?"
Archer makes a face, points a finger menacingly at Kirk. "This is not going to be one of those stories you tell people at parties, you get me, Jim?"
Jim salutes smartly. "Aye-aye, Admiral sir."
Archer has a put-upon look on his face that closely resembles the one Bones always gets when Jim talks him into doing something stupid, a fact that makes Jim smile. "I hope Chris appreciates everything I'm going through just to get to him," Archer grumbles, grabbing Jim's hand to be gently lifted out of bed.
"I'm almost certain that he will, Jonny." Kirk grins, even when Archer swats him upside the head with his free hand for calling him 'Jonny'.
***
Pike hates parties. He likes meeting new people well enough, and God knows, he's always loved meeting dignitaries from other planets who teach him about their unique cultures and languages, but he hates the awkward intimacy of Starfleet parties where everyone tries to hide the fact that they're there to network and makes awkward conversation about awkward topics while drinking too much and saying shit they shouldn't be saying. He's never sure which Circle of Hell the Starfleet parties inhabit, but he's pretty sure that Alighieri would agree that they belonged there if he were around to attend them.
So he's doing up the zipper on his dress uniform under McCoy's watchful eye, wishing that all high-ranking Starfleet staff weren't required to attend, and wondering exactly what McCoy is doing in his quarters waiting to accompany Pike to the party and how Kirk is involved. Because Jim has to be involved, this has his fingerprints all over, right down to the disgruntled, vaguely embarrassed look on McCoy's face that says this wasn't his idea.
"What's Jim planning?" he finally asks just to break the silence.
McCoy looks guilty, which doesn't bode well for Pike. "Nothing," he says quickly, looking anywhere but Pike's face. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Pike adjusts his collar, gives himself one last look in the mirror, and nods approvingly. Perfect and precise, just the way he likes it. "You're a terrible liar, Leonard," he says, smiling when McCoy winces at the name.
"Could you try not to sound like my mother when you say my name, sir?"
Pike holds back his laugh with great effort. "I shall endeavor to do just that, Doctor." He turns around to look at McCoy, holding out his hands and gesturing at himself. "What do you think? Do I pass muster?"
McCoy's smile is more genuine. "I think you look like you're going into war, sir."
Pike sighs at the accuracy of that statement. "It feels like it too. I hate parties, Len."
"Me too, sir," McCoy says sympathetically, holding out his arm for Pike to hold onto. Pike doesn't actually need the support; his legs have been working well for the past week and a bit, and while his right hip still hurts when he stands too long, he's mostly healed up and walking without any problems.
But it feels comforting to hold onto McCoy's arm for a few moments as they walk out the door, like he has someone to catch him if he falls, and he has a moment to miss Archer again before McCoy gently drops his hand and they make their way to the reception area and the party that neither one wants to attend.
***
Half an hour into the party, Chris is tired of answering questions about his experience aboard the Narada (some of the delegates come from different cultures where asking about something like this isn't as taboo as it is on Earth, and Chris does his best to answer their questions without an edge to his words, but some people just ask for gossip's sake, despite their common sense, and Pike doesn't hesitate to politely and firmly cut them off before they can finish their sentence), making small talk with the higher-ups in Starfleet, and discussing what comes next for this year's graduating class. The party has all the charm and appeal of a Command meeting, complete with Hammersmith weaving in and out of conversations with political talk, and despite the orchestra playing soothing music in the background, Pike wishes that McCoy had stuck around so that he'd at least have someone to commiserate with over how much he hates parties.
He's drifting in and out of conversation with the ambassadors to Djanai/Inari and trying to avoid any conversational pitfalls that might escalate their planetary dispute into a full-scale war when there's a murmur in the crowd, people moving and turning their heads to look around at someone that Pike can't see. He's about to crane his head to get a better view when the crowd of people in front of him stands back to let someone through, and Chris feels his heart stop.
Archer is standing next to Admirals April and Nogura, talking and laughing like he's never left, dressed in a pristine, fitted black suit with a light gray shirt and a slim black tie, looking so good and happy and healthy that Pike thinks his heart is going to explode from everything he's feeling. Then he looks over at Chris and smiles, walks toward him like nothing else matters, like no one else is there but Chris, and Pike can't breathe properly as Archer walks up to him and says, "Hello, Chris" in a soft, pleased voice.
"Jon." That's all he can say, that's all he can think, because on the list of things he'd never expected, this was at the top. The doctors had told him at least another week of observation, a few more days at home getting rested up before he could face the world again, and Chris had resigned himself to another seven days of too-short comm messages, letters written on Starfleet stationary passed back and forth, and short visits that were made even shorter by his ever-present duties.
But instead he's here, dressed in the suit that he'd promised Chris thirty years ago, three months ago, and he's smiling and holding out his hand to Chris. All he can do is take it and let himself be pulled in close, let Archer slide an arm around his waist and step back until they're in the middle of an empty space that serves as a dance floor. There's barely a moment to ask Jon what's going on before the maestro waves his hands with a flourish and a soft, slow song starts, all piano and violins and a young woman singing about love and finding her way back home in a sweet, hopeful voice that makes Chris tighten his grip on Archer's shoulder.
"Jesus, Jon," he says, torn between laughter and feeling exposed at the way Archer's wrapped around him like he's never going to let go, the way he looks at Chris like no one else is the room but them. "Way to make a fucking entrance."
Archer looks absurdly pleased, one hand gentle against Pike's back while the other curls around Pike's hand like a statement. "Told you I was gonna take you dancing."
Chris raises an eyebrow. "In front of Command and a number of foreign delegates?"
"It seemed like the perfect time for our second date." Archer shrugs lightly. "And I've waited long enough for this, you know?"
It's that same feeling he always gets when he's around Archer, that unnamable emotion that seems to live in his belly and travels up to his throat every time the man smiles at him, touches him, and Chris has to take a deep breath before he can even think of being able to speak clearly. "I know." And he does, he really does; he's waited so long for this to happen that at times, it had felt like it would never happen, and he'd been bracing himself for another week of waiting when--
And then everything clicks in from McCoy's uneasy demeanor to his disappearance to Archer's sudden appearance, and he groans and briefly drops his head against Archer's shoulder. "Kirk brought you here, didn't he?"
He can feel Archer's smile against the top of his head. "He said something about how he wanted us to have fun for once before the grads go off on their first mission, so here I am. I've always liked that kid."
Chris tries to be indignant about the whole thing, especially since he's pretty sure that someone in Command is going to have his balls on a plate for Kirk breaking Archer out of the hospital before he'd been officially discharged, but Jon is warm and solid against him, rumbling with contentment, and Chris can't bring himself to give a shit if the rules have been violated. "You never follow the rules," he says affectionately, exasperatedly.
"Rules were made to be broken," Archer says with a wicked grin, somehow managing to pull Chris even closer to him, both of them just swaying in time to the music and ignoring the stares of everyone around them. "And I'm fine with breaking them for you."
"Romantic."
"I'm just trying to get you into bed," Archer murmurs. "Is it working?"
Pike laughs softly and nods. "Like a charm."
"Your place or mine?"
"I like that you're asking this time," Chris teases, skimming his fingers gently against the smooth edge of Jon's cheek. "I'm not sure how to deal with that."
Archer leans in until his mouth is almost touching Chris's. "Your place or mine?"
"Ask me nicely and I might say mine," Chris murmurs, feeling his breath catch at the nearness of Jon.
"Say yes," Jon orders quietly.
"Yes."
There isn't even a slight pause or hesitation, and Archer smiles and steps back a little, his hand in Chris's as he leads them out of the reception area. Chris nods at some of the delegates who are looking at them with interest, probably wondering what this little byplay was all about, because it would be impolite to just ignore them as Archer is doing; although Jon waves at Hammersmith with an impudent air, laughing softly when the Vice Admiral shifts uncomfortably and acknowledges his wave with a stiff nod.
Pike spots Kirk and McCoy hidden in a corner of the room somewhere, grinning like maniacs with Kirk giving Pike a thumbs-up sign, and he laughs and gives them a half-wave, feeling self-conscious but enjoying the look of glee on Kirk's face and the gentle amusement on McCoy's.
Archer looks over at them and laughs. "Idiots," he says fondly.
Pike gives them one last look as they head out the door, notices the way they stand so close, the way McCoy is positioned around Kirk like a protective shield, and more things fall into place. "You think they're ever going to come to their senses about each other?" he asks Archer sotto voce as they make their way to Pike's Starfleet-approved vehicle.
"I think Jim's caught a clue at least," Archer says, his face filled with an unholy delight as he slides into the front seat, leaning forward to cup Pike's face and pull him in for a thorough kiss that leaves Chris breathless and hard. "God, I've wanted to do that since I saw you in that goddamn dress uniform," he groans, slipping two fingers under Pike's collar to caress the line of his neck.
Chris makes a soft noise at Jon's touch. "I didn't think that uniforms got you off," he manages to get out.
"They don't," Archer admits, pressing another brief kiss against Chris's mouth. "But you make it look good."
Chris counts to ten and tries to get his treacherous body back under control. "Jon, I'm going to need my hands to drive."
"Auto-pilot," he says breathlessly, and Pike moans as his hands start undoing his zipper and he has to pull away to glare at Archer.
"I am not," he says firmly, "having sex in the parking lot of Starfleet fucking Command's headquarters."
"Come on," Jon laughs, tracing his fingers over the exasperated line of Pike's eyebrows. "Live a little."
"Jon--"
"Chris--"
"I'm not twenty-three anymore."
Archer rolls his eyes, but Chris can see the smile he's trying to hide. "You wouldn't have done this shit when you were twenty-three either, so stop lying."
"I might have," Chris says huffily, starting the car against Archer's protests, "if you'd talked me into it."
Archer says "Ah" like he finally understands what the problem is. "So you want to be talked into getting fucked in front of Starfleet HQ?"
"No, I don't, you madman," Chris laughs as he pulls out of the parking lot. "I want to get fucked in my house in my own bed where it's comfortable and there's no chance of someone catching us. Or worse, filming us and sending the video all over the sat-comm."
"Well--"
"Not even if you paid me, Jon."
Archer hides his smile behind his hand, shifting in his seat to get comfortable. "It was just a suggestion."
Chris pauses for a moment. "We might do the filming thing later, but no one else sees it but us," he says mildly, just to hear Jon laugh.
***
Back at the party, Kirk and McCoy are still in their little corner of the room, drinking from champagne flutes and high-fiving each other. Or rather, Kirk holds his hand up for a high-five and McCoy looks at him like he really should know better.
"C'mon, Bones," Kirk whines, "just this once."
"I don't do high-fives," McCoy says archly. "No high-fives, no fist bumps, no elaborate handshakes. I still have some dignity left, dammit."
Kirk's hand is still up in the air when Admiral Nogura passes by, deep in conversation with Admiral April. Without even looking up, Nogura waves an absent hand at McCoy and says, "Dr. McCoy, would you please high-five Captain Kirk so we can all go on with our lives?" and goes back to his conversation with April as they wander off to meet with the ambassadors from Talin.
Flushed with embarrassment, McCoy slaps his hand against Kirk's hard enough to sting, ignoring Jim's bright, cheerful smile. "Now was that so bad?" he asks Bones happily.
McCoy downs the rest of his champagne in one gulp, not caring how rude and uncouth it appears to the rest of the crowd, and then plucks Kirk's flute out of his hand, finishing off the last of it. "You know we're probably going to get charged with kidnapping for this," he says bleakly. "And right before our first mission."
"We're not gonna get charged with kidnapping," Kirk says for what seems to be the hundredth fucking time. "I told you, Cox has it covered. She's on shift, the doctor's already made his rounds, and Archer will be back tomorrow before anyone even notices he's gone."
"Tomorrow morning, huh?" McCoy's voice is drier than sand. "You did see the way he and Pike were looking at each other, right?"
Jim frowns. "So?"
McCoy actually laughs, a brief burst of laughter that is neither mean nor dismissive, but genuinely amused. "So you'll be lucky if they even make it out of bed for lunch, let alone to go back to the hospital."
"Ah, shit," Kirk sighs, going through all his back-up plans for one that won't get them disciplined by Hammersmith and Nogura. Finally, he's forced to admit that he doesn't have one, at least not one that doesn't involve him sneaking into Archer's room and huddling under the covers pretending to be him. McCoy would have a heart attack if he even suggested it. "I'll just take the blame for all of it," he says with a shrug, not really too concerned about the consequences after seeing the looks on Archer and Pike's faces. "It was worth it."
He isn't surprised when McCoy slides an arm around his shoulders, his thumb tucked into the collar of his green dress command uniform. Instead, he leans back with a smile, thinking of what Cox had said to him, thinking of how McCoy fits into his life and all the possibilities he can have with him. "Hey, Bones?"
"What?"
"Wanna go back to Archer's and fuck on his pool table?"
There's a long moment of silence, long enough that Jim wonders if Liz was wrong, if he'd miscalculated badly enough that he's possibly just ruined the best friendship of his life, and then McCoy lets out a huff of laughter. "He'll kill you if you wreck his table."
Kirk pretends to think about it. "Hmm, how about his kitchen table?"
"He eats there," McCoy says aghast, sounding like one of Jim's scandalized aunts, which cracks him right up.
"Okay," he manages to choke out, "how about his bed then?"
"We're putting new sheets on after, right?"
Kirk groans. "If I say yes, will you actually fuck me?"
"Say yes first."
Kirk hangs his head in defeat. "Yes, we will put new sheets on his bed after. And keep the dogs out of the room while we are, er, occupied. And do the laundry if it'll make you feel better."
"It will."
"Fine, we'll do all of that then." Kirk turns his face up to McCoy, giving him a plaintive look that he knows Bones can't resist. "So we gonna fuck?"
"You're so smooth, Jim," Bones says wryly, laughing when Jim leans up to press a sloppy, enthusiastic kiss against his mouth. "Like silk. No wonder everyone wants in your pants."
"Hey, these are Starfleet regulation pants. Everyone wants in them."
McCoy doesn't pinch the bridge of his nose, but Kirk knows he wants to. It's his way of showing affection, Kirk's almost certain of it. "So what are we waiting for?" he finally asks Jim, his eyes alight with amusement and maybe something deeper that Kirk's still trying to come to terms with.
"Nothing at all," Jim grins, his hand in McCoy's as they make their way out of the reception area.
***
They totally fuck on Archer's kitchen table, but only because Kirk surprises Bones with a blowjob when he isn't expecting it.
Neither one complains.
***
Pike lives in a small but dignified Victorian house somewhere around Van Ness Avenue that is full of antiquities that have been in the Pike family for years; his mother had insisted he take as much as he could when he'd moved permanently to San Francisco after getting his captaincy. His favorite is still the antique, battered steamer trunk, covered in rips and tears and remnants of old travel stickers, passed down through four generations of Pikes, that currently holds his old lieutenant's uniform and retired gold command shirt.
The house is an indulgence, one of the few he allows himself. He's given up everything for Starfleet, including the chance to start a family and have a life outside of cadets and teaching and endless meetings and paperwork, and he'd wanted one thing that wasn't tied to Starfleet and its regs, one thing that was completely illogical and beautiful and his. This house is everything he'd wanted and more, and he loves it almost as much as he'd loved the Enterprise and the Yorktown, almost as much as he still loves the vast emptiness of space and its clutter of planets and swirls of galaxies and stars that dot it at random intervals.
Right now, though, he's having difficulty remembering how to open the fucking lock because Jon's got his hands wrapped firmly around Chris's hips, his cock pressing against Chris's ass and making him moan as he tries to remember what his keycode is and how it's used. Archer is mouthing obscene messages against Chris's nape with his lips and teeth and tongue, whispering all the things he's going to do to Chris when he gets him inside, and Pike is seriously considering kicking the door down before Jon makes him come in his pants because he's enough of a bastard to do it.
He finally gets the door open through sheer dumb luck and instinct, and they fall into the foyer with startled laughter and muffled curses as they bang their shins against the antique, narrow bench against the wall. It feels like a repeat of thirty years ago, this desperation and need that burns through them, only this time, Jon has his hands all over Chris, kissing him like he needs him for air, like he hasn't been touched in forever, kissing him with a kind of graceless hunger that leaves Chris shaky and speechless. He shoves Archer against the nearest wall, holding him in place with his hands and his body, and kisses him slowly and thoroughly until Jon's rocking his hips up in a restless, needy rhythm.
If he didn't think his knees would give out, he'd go down and suck Jon's cock, just to taste him, just to make him moan and fist his hands in Chris's hair, but his knees still aren't as sturdy as they used to be, and Jon sounds like he's going to go on without Chris if Pike keeps fucking around with him, and Chris has waited long enough for this that waiting even a second longer has become an impossibility. So he pushes Archer towards the stairs, somehow both of them making it up to the bedroom without tripping over anything or killing themselves, a fact that would be impressive if Archer wasn't palming Chris's dick and driving him crazy at the same time.
They hit the bed with a soft whump, Archer laughing into Chris's mouth, Pike making exasperated sounds as he struggles with Jon's jacket and his tie and his shirt. When they're finally naked, Chris takes a minute to admire the lines of Jon's body, the curve of muscle and warm skin, the faint scars all over that tell stories of who Jon is and where he's been.
"Gonna stare all night?" Jon asks softly, his fingers stroking promises against the slant of Pike's hipbone.
"Just admiring," Chris murmurs. "I want to take my time for once."
Gently, sweetly, Archer slides his fingers through Chris's hair and pulls him down against him, kissing him and rocking against him until Pike is gasping and begging him to stop before it's over.
It's everything it was thirty years ago, but so much more now, full of things that Chris can only feel, not articulate, but Archer seems to understand what he's trying to say with his mouth and his hands and his cock. By the time Chris has stretched Jon open with his fingers ("It's your turn to top," he laughs gently. "I promised, remember?) and slid inside him, Jon is spread out on Pike's lap, his hand digging bruises into Chris's thigh as he groans and rides Chris mercilessly, crying out when he comes. Chris's orgasm is almost an afterthought, still entranced by the sight of Jon stretched above him, taking everything that Chris has given him and giving it back with his kisses and his touches. His face is terrifyingly open and raw, not hiding anything about what Chris means to him, how long he's waited for Chris, and that, more than anything, pushes Chris into coming, moaning Jon's name like a prayer and shivering with aftershocks when Jon stretches out beside him and kisses him gently, lovingly.
"Now that," Jon says with shaky laughter, "was worth the wait."
Chris is too fucked out to really respond to that coherently, his legs still shaking and his nerves still singing, so he just curls up around Archer and lets him wrap his arms around Chris, lets him murmur soft, soothing words that sound like nothing but mean "I love you" because Chris now knows the difference between what Jon says and what he means. He isn't sure he's ready to say those words yet -- at least not in Standard, although he's whispered it in Vulcan a few times -- and he doesn't think Archer is either, but he's not worried. They'll get there eventually, now that they have the time to get to know each other, to make it work
Now that they have time.
***
The doorbell is insistent and irritating, and Chris is growling like a bear as he throws on a pair of shorts and his robe and eases down the stairs to answer it. He's sure it's Kirk coming by to irritate him in some way, maybe even to gloat and ask impertinent questions, so when he flings open the door with a snarled "You rang?" he's a little startled to see Number One standing in front of him with her identkit held out in front of her face.
She looks him over with a raised eyebrow, taking in the shorts and the bare chest and the mussed-up hair, and simply says, "Leeloo Dallas, multipass?"
"Shit," he groans, dropping his head down in defeat. "I told Jim not to call you that."
"Because he listens so well," she says coolly, all her amusement in her eyes and in the slight quirk of her mouth.
Sighing and feeling embarrassed, which is not a new sensation for him these days, he yanks his robe closed, belts it together, and stands back from the door, inviting her in with a wave of his hand. She steps in with her usual grace, nodding approvingly at the antique bench by the wall, which she has the sense to avoid unlike him.
"You staying for breakfast?" he asks when the humiliation dies down and his face isn't threatening to burn itself off in self-defense.
"I could eat," she says nonchalantly. "If I'm not disturbing anything?"
She's not really, and Chris wants to spend more time with her before she heads off with the Enterprise crew, but he isn't sure if Archer is up for company this early in the morning after such a late night. "You're not," he says easily, thinking he'll dash up as fast as his knees will carry him and at least give Jon a heads-up on their breakfast guest.
And then Jon comes down in Chris's sweats and his Mojave Rattlers tee shirt from Chris's high school days, both items stretched tight against his chest and hips, not fitting him in all the right ways, and Pike loses his ability to form a coherent sentence. "Um."
Archer grins at him like he knows exactly the effect he's having on Chris, and Number One is doing a terrible job of hiding her little snickers of amusement. "I didn't mean to interrupt," she says, trying for bland and missing it by an entire goddamn country mile. "I just came by see how Chris was doing."
"Don't worry about it," Archer says cheerfully, waving off all her objections. "I was just coming down to make coffee and breakfast if anyone was up for it."
Chris thumbs his eyebrow, wondering if things are going to get any worse.
"I used to be Chris's XO on the Yorktown," she says with a smile, holding out her hand. "Just call me Leeloo. It's apparently my new name now."
Archer takes it and shakes it firmly. "I'm Jonathan Archer. I'm Chris's boyfriend."
It could get so much worse, he realizes as they both grin at each other, obviously recognizing kindred spirits in the other. "I used to have dignity, you know," he grumbles, starting when Jon leans in to kiss him good morning, his hand on Chris's ass like Number One isn't there.
"Dignity is overrated," he tells Chris with a laugh. "It's all about fun and sex in public places for you now." He motions toward a small, cheerful room in the back. "Kitchen that way?"
"And to the left." Chris leans in to kiss Jon again simply because he can. "I want eggs and bacon."
"Just toast and some coffee for me," Number One says politely, moving next to Pike, both of them watching as Jon walks toward the kitchen in Chris's sweats and his too-tight shirt. "He is--"
"He is," Chris says softly, feeling something warm and sweet settle in his belly and stay there.
"And he is aesthetically pleasing as well."
He looks at her with a raised eyebrow. "Are you saying he has a nice ass, Number One?"
She shrugs. "Merely pointing out that he is built very well."
He puts his face in his hands, unable to do anything but laugh. "He really is."
She rests her hand on his shoulder, squeezes gently, and it feels like approval. "It is good to see you happy," she says seriously, softly. "After... everything that happened, I thought--"
"Me too," he sighs, pressing his hand against hers, feeling that connection that he always feels around her, all the warmth and caring and friendship that she gives him when he's with her. "But I have good friends."
"And a good boyfriend," she says mischievously.
"A very good boyfriend," he says with a waggle of his eyebrows, laughing when she laughs. It feels good to have her here, to have her and Archer meet; it's like he's introducing part of his family to Jon, making room for him in his life, and when he comes out of the kitchen to yell that the coffee's ready, Chris lets himself put an arm around Number One's shoulder as they walk to the kitchen.
"So," he grins wickedly at her, "Leeloo."
"I am going to make you pay for that, Chris."
"Hey, at least it wasn't Ash."
She doesn't roll her eyes at him, but he knows she wants to. "I don't have the chainsaw. What would be the point?"
He has a really good life.
***
It turns out that the hospital notices that Archer's gone, but no one's brought up on charges after Archer goes and has a little talk with Hammersmith. No one knows what was said, but there had been no arguing, no yelling, and no bruises, so everyone assumes that things have gone well, although the gossip mills go into overtime on what blackmail material Archer has to make Hammersmith give up the chance to mess with Archer.
Either way, Archer comes out on top.
He also finds out about the kitchen table and orders Kirk and McCoy to clean the kitchen from top to bottom while Pike sits in a corner and laughs his ass off, drinking beer and reading the news on his data pad and running his fingers through Archer's hair when Archer's close enough to let him.
Jim and Bones just smirk at each other the whole time. They really don't regret a single thing.
Some day, I will be geeky enough to make a track listing of all the songs I listened to when writing about Pike and Archer, but today is not that day. Instead, I'm gonna go to bed and pretend like I'm not plotting out George and Winona's epic romance in my head.