A Little Dream

Posted on Sun Jul 3rd, 2016 @ 8:38pm by Captain Charybdis MacGregor & Captain Patrick O'Connor

0 words; about a 1 minute read

Mission: Taking Chances
Location: USS Bonne Chance, Deck Five, Captain O'Conner's Quarters
Timeline: 2265
Tags: Patrick,1stlove

Reports from all sections had come in from the short but decisive battle with the Nausicans, data analyzed, plans made and overall Patrick was feeling pretty good about his crew's performance. There was going to be more to this yet to come, he was certain, and he felt quite confident about his ship's preparedness to deal with it.

As he opened the door to his quarters, he could hear soft music, and the dim guttering light of artificial candles flickered, setting the room in a soft glow, while the unique perfumed scent of Charybdis wafted out strongly. Apparently his lover had decided to break into his quarters to arrange a romantic interlude... which gave him mixed feelings. He didn't care for her violating his privacy, though her motives were ideally good ones.

He stepped inside and made his way stealthily to the bedroom, where his voluptuous vixen lay stretched out on the bed, arranged in a breathtaking ensemble of black lace that accentuated her exaggerated curves. As he approached he could hear her breathing, and he realized that she had fallen asleep waiting for him. Her PDD lay next to her on the bed, and he gently picked it up and looked at it... a xenocultural report of the Orion system, with a report on the Nausicans.

Even waiting to surprise him with a romantic evening, she was still working. He wondered idly if she had always been such a hard worker, or if she worked that much harder just for him. He set the PDD aside and brushed an errant lock of dark hair from her face, and she smiled in her sleep and moved slightly.

"Mmmm, fi mrr minutes, husbnnn..." she murmured.

That stopped him cold. Had she just said what he thought she'd said...?

He looked down at her and was surprised to note that she was smiling happily in her sleep... which was quite rare in his experience when she was sleeping alone, and he watched her eyes darting to and fro beneath her lids. She was dreaming, that much was clear... but unlike her usual fare, she seemed to be having a pleasant dream.

It struck him- she had spoken in Federation. Not Romulan, as she normally did when she mumbled in her sleep, reliving her nightmares of the past... but the common tongue of Starfleet. He considered waking her, then decided that perhaps an experiment was in order. He slipped off his shirt and slid into bed beside her, curling his body about hers as the 'big spoon', wrapping his arms around her and letting her know that he was there... and immediately he felt his heartrate begin increasing even as he heard hers begin to slow down.

Aware of his presence on nothing more than a subconscious level, she was melding minds with him as a matter of instinct now. He closed his eyes and let it happen, allowing her to carry him off to see what she had to show him, and he was quite surprised at the tableau that unfolded.

They were in a house he knew well- his parent's house, the ancestral home of the O'Conners, passed down from generation to generation, and they were in the kitchen. The great bay windows looked out over the verdant and rolling glen, and in the distance could be seen Shannon, the township where he had grown from a child to a man. He was sitting at the kitchen table, a plate of potato pancakes before him... and they smelled awful, he was amused to realize.

Charybdis came into view, wearing in a simple cotton dress much like the local women wore in a shade of violet that set off her eyes... it still showed off her fulsome curves, which were if anything a bit more fulsome. But the breathtaking beauty that had first caught his eye was still readily evident in full bloom, and when she smiled it still lit up the room and warmed his heart.

"So? Are they any good?" she asked, indicating the potato cakes, and he shrugged, cut off a bite and tried one... and it was absolutely awful. He tried to be stoic and keep a straight face but he couldn't, and she raised her hands in claws to the heavens as he spit it out into a napkin.

"Argh! Why have the gods cursed me to be such a terrible cook!?! I can identify gluinos traveling backwards in time, differentiate between quarks and design a tricorder to revolutionize the Federation, so why can I not follow simple food recipes? My family will be raised on replications of food!" She sighed and hung her head... obviously this was not her first failure, and he laughed.

"Have no fear m'love... you are more than adequate in every other field, aye?" He reeled her in to deposit her in his lap and kissed her, and she ran a finger along his jaw and smiled sweetly as she bounced merrily in his lap for a moment before turning her head away from him to yell at the stairs.

"James! Liviana! Fiona! I dinna see you doown here in thirty seconds yuir father will have somethin ta say aboot it!" She affected a brogue quite convincingly, and sure enough, within thirty seconds a great thumping and rumbling came from the stairs, and three children appeared, lining up in the kitchen.

The eldest was a boy who looked remarkably like Patrick, save for the slight points to his ears and the sharper eyebrows that came from his mother, and the fact that his red hair grew straight, though it cowlicked like Patrick's father's hair always had. He was perhaps eleven, already tall for his age, and beginning to fill out like his father. And he most definitely had his father's eyes.

The middle child was the spitting image of her mother, perhaps only eight, save for the fact that Patrick's red hair had bred true in her, as well as his pale skin. Her ears were long and delicately pointed, her brows the severe and sharp angle he knew so well, and if not for the color of her hair and skin she looked quite Vulcan, save for the mischievous twinkle in her eyes, which were most definitely her mother's.

The youngest was perhaps four years old, and she looked to be shy and quiet, with the large violet eyes of her mother and her thick dark hair, which was an unruly mess upon her head. She clutched a stuffed dolly that looked surprisingly like her mother in uniform, and when she blushed, peering at her father from behind her older brother, her skin turned the same shade of olive as her mother... though he noticed that her brows and features were his, and her ears held barely any hint of point at all.

"All right you lot, say goodbye to your father, get your cereal and eat your breakfast. He's got to beam to work, and he has a long day of saving the galaxy ahead of him. Go on now!" The trio closed on him and embraced him in a group hug with kisses all around, and as he released them he noticed the gold uniform that he wore carried one thick braid accompanied by two slender braids... that of a vice admiral.

He caught sight of his reflection in the glass of a china cabinet, and he looked perhaps twenty years older... distinguished, grayed and with a neatly-trimmed full beard.

The children chased their cereal and squabbled as children do, and Charybdis hoisted him out of his chair and tugged him towards the transporter, holding his hand. "Come on Vice Admiral, you don't want to be late. Staff meeting today, fleet review this month and work work work." She stopped and pulled him in close, and smiled up at him... wearing flat shoes he was a good four inches taller than she, and in close like this it was emphasized.

"Are you happy, Patrick?" she asked, those big eyes of hers like a nebula in an ion storm searching his. He gripped her round the waist... a waist perhaps not as firm or slender as she'd once had but still fair and lovely to him all the same, even as her face looked as though she hadn't aged a day, and kissed her tenderly.

"Aye love... it's a good dream, this life."


In his quarters on the Bonne Chance, the Romulan spy who loved him cooed happily, and Patrick smiled. It was indeed a good dream.

 

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