The Music of the Night - Part 3

Posted on Thu 29th Aug, 2019 @ 5:28am by Commander Paul Graves PsyD & Commander Mikaela Locke

939 words; about a 5 minute read

Mission: A Diplomatic Affair
Location: Deck 1552 - Paul Graves' House
Timeline: MD-03: 2220 hours

"...Come on in," Paul invited as he held the door open for her.

"Why thank you, sir," Mikaela replied with a smile and a little curtsey as she stepped through the door under the stone archway. She took a few steps into a large open-plan kitchen/diner. It was, everything she thought it would be - a fabulous blend of traditional Betazoid culture and one or two modern touches simply for convenience. She'd never really stopped to imagine what her forever home would look like - the one that she settled down in when she no longer served in Starfleet - but she was pretty sure that if it looked anything like this, she would be very happy indeed. Which is when, out of nowhere, she suddenly realised that living in this exact house, with Paul, might not be such a crazy notion. 'Let's not get ahead of ourselves...' she chided herself gently, before turning back to Paul. "I hope you don't think me presumptuous," she said, slightly coyly, "But I have got to take these ridiculous shoes off!"

"Please take them off!" Paul agreed with a laugh as he undid his bow tie and draped it over the back of a chair. His tuxedo jacket soon followed. He went into his kitchen and began rummaging for a small skillet, egg substitute, and seasonings. "Are you vegetarian or full vegan?" he asked Mikaela.

"Full vegan," Milkaela replied as she reached down and unstrapped her high-heels, rubbing her feet, one by one, as she did so. "Although," she continued, "In this day and age of replicated food, it's much easier than it used to be. I can eat replicated meat, dairy, et cetera, without worrying about which animal it came from."

Paul nodded. "I'm more vegetarian. I have to know that a meat product is either replicated or somehow artificial before I can stand touching it, but I'm all right with real milk or butter."

"Oh no," Mikaela added quickly, "I absolutely agree with you," wandering back towards him in her bare feet. "It's why I'll tend to choose vegan options if I'm eating out - then I don't have to worry about checking."

"I wondered if that was why you were hesitating over the omelettes earlier," Paul said. "What do you like in them?" He was programming the replicator to provide white cheddar cheese, diced tomatoes, chives, spinach, and ham cubes for his. He liked Interesting Omelettes.

"Hmm..." Mikaela thought for a moment, "I don't have a specific favourite," she said, "Although, I do quite fancy spinach, olive and feta - as long as that's not too much trouble," she quickly added.

"It's a replicator. How much trouble could it be?"

Once the omelettes were plated and piping hot, they settled onto the sofa in Paul's den and dug in. The faint scent of Mikaela's perfume mingled with the aroma of omelette. Ordinarily, perfume and omelette might have seemed a nauseating combination, Paul thought, but it certainly wasn't, tonight. In fact, he couldn't get enough of it. "It's been wonderful, spending time with you, this evening," Paul said. "We always see each other at work, and for lunch and coffee when we have the chance, but it isn't the same as just being with you and enjoying your company, seeing you laugh. We're both always so serious on duty."

Mikaela laughed out loud, almost spitting a piece of omelette out in the process, “It’s because we have serious jobs,” she replied when she had recovered her composure. “But, yes, you’re right, it has been lovely.” She paused for a moment. “I always have so much trouble shutting off from work - perhaps I need to take a page out of your book... Get away from the ‘Starfleet’ part of the station at the end of the day...” Her voice trailed off as, once again, she briefly imagined herself as the second occupant of Paul’s house, and felt slightly embarrassed to have done so.

"Even surgeons tell jokes in the operating room," Paul said. "And I leave the job behind each day because I would literally go mental if I didn't. I'm just lucky this house was available." He finished his omelette, set his empty plate and fork on the coffee table, and then leaned back. "Part of the problem is, you and Suzuki both have 24/7 jobs. Even when you're off duty, you're on call. Same with me, to a certain extent. If you two are up, I'm up."

Mikaela wasn’t sure whether it was the mood lighting, the amazing omelette, Paul’s handsome features or a combination of all of three, but suddenly she found herself completely drawn in by him. She placed her plate down on the coffee table in front of them, tucked her bare feet up beside her on the sofa and leaned into him, laying her head on his shoulders. “Well,” she said softly, “Neither of us need to be ‘up’ right now.”

Paul gave a soft chuckle and bent his head to inhale the scent of her hair. "Any moment now, the red-alert klaxon will sound..." He wrapped his arms around her. "This feels ... really good," he murmured.

“Yeah, it does,” she agreed, her voice no more than a whisper, as she turned her head up to meet his gaze and gently kissed him on the lips.

From that moment it felt to Paul as if they simply ... melted into each other there on the sofa as he shifted to meet her kiss with one of his own.

 

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