Right after Admiral Nechayev called to remind me that Starfleet's pace is somewhat faster than a civilian pace, and to express her doubts as to which I'm working at.
I needed to remind myself why exactly I'm doing this.
::realizes how unenthusiastic that probably sounded, quickly sliding dee_troi from under desk and back against chest in snug embrace::
::nudges fall away strands of hair away with nose, trailing the faintest of kisses up a cheekbone::
Things are about to change again. I don't regret it, but you'd better believe I intend to hold onto every memory of this I can.
Looks like I'll have you under my desk one way or the other, Commander.
It's a good thing they know that things heard on a job stay with the job, too.
::lowers voice after subdued murmurs from outside suggest point was made, looking at wife with twinkling eyes::
She sent me potential crew manifests. Some of the crew are coming back, but damn if Christine didn't manage to steal a few as well. Looks like I have to pick a new senior staff.
::folds hands, generously hiding a smirk...clearly, someone will be needing a fitness regime to catch up::
I spoke with Chris several days ago, actually.
She warned me that there would likely be vacancies...the last few years were occasionally brutal on the crew and she suspected more than a few would prefer a chance to slow down and enjoy the relative peace, rather than hop back on board for an extended foray into destinations unknown.
::exhales...a slow, gusty blow of dry air::
::favors her cheeky smile with a wide grin of own::
Counselor. Come right on in.
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::bites back what would be a highly unprofessional laugh, obeying the lazy, inviting order::
::walks slowly around desk, surveying the situation::
Well, I see that you managed to get down.
But can you get up?
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::jumps when sound of a spanner hitting deck echoes from bridge, offering wife a disapproving look::
::can't hold frown, though...not in the face of that smile::
::rocks back on heels, absorbing it for a moment...she's happy, genuinely happy again::
::finally manages to quit basking and crook a finger::
Join me for a moment, Commander.
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I'll get dirty, Will.
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::pokes at a dusty boot with index finger::
You're already dirty.
::Filthy-minded too.::
::looks back up, waggling brows::
Come on. You'll like what I want to show you.
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Stop. Act your age, Captain.
::softens rebuff with a hand atop same knee, twisting head to take in view from below::
All right. What is it I'm supposed to be seeing, Imzadi?
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::gently grasps both shoulders, steering her to prone position, head nearly on lap::
::after a brief sigh at the unfairness, removes a hand, feeling up under desk until rough pattern emerges in polymer surface::
There.
Can you read it?
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Five years worth of Christine's gum?
::protests the shaking his laughter causes with an elbow jab, looking again::
...something carved in by laser beam?
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::snags a tendril of hair between fingers, tugging teasingly::
But can you read it?
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::in meantime, dedicates attention to assigned task, lifting own fingers to brush his aside and trace::
::A heart?::
::at vague noise of assent, braces self further, angling head closer to read::
::Will loves Deanna?::
::pulls head up when no response is forthcoming, meeting bright, honest blue eyes::
And when exactly did you get it in your head to vandalize Starfleet property in a fit of schoolboy affection, Mr. Riker?
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I needed to remind myself why exactly I'm doing this.
::realizes how unenthusiastic that probably sounded, quickly sliding dee_troi from under desk and back against chest in snug embrace::
::nudges fall away strands of hair away with nose, trailing the faintest of kisses up a cheekbone::
Things are about to change again. I don't regret it, but you'd better believe I intend to hold onto every memory of this I can.
Looks like I'll have you under my desk one way or the other, Commander.
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Really, Will.
::scoots away, turning to frown::
It's a good thing these people won't be serving here.
::shakes head, unable to really hold annoyance::
What exactly does Admiral Nechayev believe you should be doing at a faster rate of speed?
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::lowers voice after subdued murmurs from outside suggest point was made, looking at wife with twinkling eyes::
She sent me potential crew manifests. Some of the crew are coming back, but damn if Christine didn't manage to steal a few as well. Looks like I have to pick a new senior staff.
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::bites lip again::
::pulls away, climbing to feet::
::places hands on hips, eyes sweeping to flexi on desk::
I suppose it's lucky that you already have your advisor, then, isn't it?
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::lifts brows, debating whether to crawl to feet as well, or just stay put...even if ass is going numb::
::will be ribbed either way::
::with a self-castigating groan, grabs edge of desk, hoisting self up::
Is it too late to schedule a physical?
Sounds like someone already has a few ideas.
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I spoke with Chris several days ago, actually.
She warned me that there would likely be vacancies...the last few years were occasionally brutal on the crew and she suspected more than a few would prefer a chance to slow down and enjoy the relative peace, rather than hop back on board for an extended foray into destinations unknown.
She didn't want you to think it was personal.
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