The BLTS Archive - Ivre (Drunk) First in the Blackbird series by Cavalaxis (cavalaxis@hotmail.com) --- (c) 9/28/99 Disclaimer: Paramount owns Star Trek. All of it. I claim no profit. I do claim the story. Archive: BLTS, yes. All else, please ask. Advice: Best read fifteen minutes after two shots of Maker's Mark, or SoCo & Peach Schnapps. Mea Culpas: I didn't have a beta reader. I just HAD to post it. All typo's are mine - MINE! Just a post script: ivre:= drunk je rêve:= I am dreaming je suis ivre:= I am so drunk --- "Saurian brandy. I haven't had Saurian brandy in..." I swirled the noxious amber liquid around in glass number - three? four? "...Since I right after I left the Academy." Why had I agreed to join 'the boys' on this trip? That was the question that kept plaguing me. The answer I already knew. There was a day when rumors of a good bar would have drawn me away with the flimsiest of excuses. "Why not, if I may be so bold?" Riker seems amused at my semi- lucid state. Sometimes I just want to slap that grin off Riker's face. Maybe I will some day. Maybe Sisko's logic left a little to be desired, but I can only imagine how satisfying that right hook must have been. "Well, I could tell you, but you wouldn't believe me." With a reputation like yours, boy-o, you'd never believe it. I watch a young lieutenant cross the bar to get a better view of the ladies. He's been circling this pit for half an hour, checking out the likely targets. Riker's mock anger draws a smirk from me. "Sir, I take offense at that. Of course I would believe you." I watch the lad settling in, joking with his friends, pointing across the dance floor at a raven-haired beauty that I vaguely recognize from somewhere. Target acquired. "Will, would you believe that there is a drink in this quadrant that can make your stoic captain throw all caution to the wind?" She's noticed him now. I sip my drink again. It burns as it goes down my throat. It burns in my brain. She avoids making eye contact with him. Riker is filling my glass again. No, she's definitely not interested. But he isn't thinking with his brain, that much is obvious. "Do tell, sir. This has got to be good." Geordi nods in agreement with Riker. They look at me expectantly. The jazz trio retakes the stage, stubbing out their cigarettes, taking up their instruments. From the stance he's taken, I gather he intends to ask her to dance. I catch her watching me. Hmm. My companions are looking at me expectantly. My attention is divided. Distractedly I reply, making them hang on every word, "Saurian brandy seems to have that effect." I take another sip. Not your father's '57. I remember the deeply philosophical arguments - brawls - my friends and I would have over drinks like this. But that was ages ago. "Not a good thing when Nausicaans are around." The hunter is crossing the room and she's trying to pretend she's invisible. It's not working. Next time, wear something other than blue jeans, Raven. They bind your wings. "Is that what you were drinking the night you - well - you know?" I bite back a stinging reply to my XO. Yes, Mr. Wince-At-A- Papercut, the night they cut my heart out. With a sword. The bass strums into a lively beat and the piano falls in step. Light brush strokes fall on the trap. A bloody sword. Have you ever hefted a sword? Much less felt its bite? "Yes." I take a long pull and Riker is refilling my glass. Five? Six? No matter. He's mistaken my distaste at his line of questioning for my distaste for Nausicaans. Again - no matter. "Captain?" Geordi thinks I'm lost in the memory. More like I'm lost in this bloody Saurian brandy. Always brings out my cheery side. I remind myself why I never play poker with the senior officers. The hunter is getting ready to make his move. I wonder if she'll even give him the time of day - oh, no - he's taken a pass, made for the bar instead. A memory flashes. One of tolerating the antiquated remarks about being a blue-blood, due to certain unique weaknesses. I smile and chuckle at that thought. "S'Alright Geordi. Here's to tick tock." I hold up my glass and the clinking camaraderie draws a few looks. Raven steals another glance. Riker nudges Geordi and winks at her. Ah, that explains it. She looks back at her drink. Sitting on that barstool, one foot on the floor, the other hooked on the brass rung. Johnny Picard is long gone. Thirty years ago she'd have been watching me. No longer. I hold my hand over my glass as Will tries to top it off again. "Slow down, Commander. What're you trying to do, get to sit in the big chair for a day while I languish with a hangover?" This brings a belly laugh which I join. Hunter and hunted have taken their separate sides of the room. Damn she's pretty. I can't say that I blame the lad. I wonder if she can dance. Maybe later, when I have my sea legs. I lean back into the soft chair, resting my heels on the ottoman. Trying to look collected, I lace my fingers together and gaze over the tops. This permits me a modicum of privacy. Geordi and Will start to talk about the warp core or some such technical nonsense. What's this? Raven catches me looking at her. She drops her eyes but I see the smile. Was that meant for my eyes?. I manage an eyebrow. Okay. You've got my attention, little black bird. Did I imagine that? I scrutinize the wall above her head. Riker gets up and struts like the damned peacock he is threading his way through the dancers towards the bar, no doubt for another flask of that soul-searing shite. He walks right towards her. Maybe that smile *was* meant for him. Saurian fucking brandy. Of all the drinks to choose for tonight. And you, I glance at my reflection on the wall, you should have had the sense to say no. Not "Just one glass." It's never "Just one glass." I glance back across the dance floor. She glances at Will as he stands next to her. Her eyes take him in and spit him out. I know that look. What - is it his cologne? I suppress another chuckle, glancing knowingly at Geordi. He shrugs. "He'll never stop trying to be the infamous James T. Kirk, will he?" LaForge asks. "Fuck anything, anytime, anywhere." "That's our glorious Will Riker - ever bearing the Horgon - or whatever." No. It isn't his cologne. I can feel the smile I'm trying to hide curling around the corner of my mouth. Her gaze seeks mine and it pins me to the wall. I freeze momentarily. The moment is broken by - the hunter. He's asking her to dance. She looks surprised and surprisingly says yes. I turn back and savor the last swallow of liquid flame in my glass. He was waiting for a slow piece. Bastard. Can't even let an old man enjoy the view. Self-pity. That's a new side effect. It used to get your blood running hot, and now? Now you just feel old? No, that is not allowed. She was watching you. Old man indeed. Probably could show that bird a better time than you could, lad. No. No probably about it. I could definitely show you a better time. Not could. I can show you a better time. Can and will. I'm on my feet and moving across the floor towards them. Riker shoots me a puzzled look as he comes back to the table with another flask. I meet him half way, snag a shot off the tray without even stopping. I don't slam it, that'd be a crime. I swallow it in three gulps and oh does it burn. I set the glass down on a table a little harder than necessary. Somewhere in the back of my head, sanity is yelling at me. Don't worry, I doubt he could do worse than a serrated blade in my belly. That only makes the little beast yell louder. I ignore it, keeping an eye on his mates as I walk up behind him. They scatter like roaches. Her eyes go wide as I watch my hand tapping him on the shoulder. "Excuse me. May I cut in?" His head whips around. No doubt I've interrupted some sickly sweet line he was testing out. "And you would be --" I have never quite savored anything the way I savored his belligerence turning into a look of utter dismay. "Jean-Luc Picard. Mademoiselle? May I have the pleasure?" I think his heart has stopped. I look at her and wink. I think her heart stopped. Perhaps it just skipped a beat. Listen to yourself now. That has to be the brandy. After a slight hesitation, she answers, "Yes." An accent that escapes me. My heart can't skip a beat. But it tried. The young man stood at the edge of the dance floor for a moment before rejoining his cronies. I listened to their consolations with half an ear. They faded quickly from my awareness. I had taken her hand and now pulled her to me in a smooth - rather debonair I might add - motion. "I had to save you. The man had two left feet." "Thank you." With the shift of her weight against my lead, I could tell that, yes indeed she can dance. Only moments before I was watching her. Now, my hand is on her waist. She has an exquisite face. High cheekbones of ancient royalty. Mocha skin and an exotic scent that heightens my intoxication. Her timid smile moves from jubilant to secretive. Combined with the way she moves with me - that which I sought to ensnare has ensnared me. As we circle slowly together, we share the gaze that launches a thousand ships. I completely forget who I am and where I am. Bravado inspires me to wrap my arm around her, pulling her closer to me still. I'm stunned as she arches her back and leans into my slow swirling dip, grinding her pelvis against mine. The motion continues as her hair flows around over her shoulder. She peers out from beneath the veil. I pull her closer and then spin her outward, my grasp firm on her hand. She moves like water - no, like plasma fire - like the fire in my belly. At the zenith, she reverses direction and spins in the opposite direction, wrapping myself around her waist. Oh, my head is swimming and no longer just with brandy. She is gently pressing her ass back into me as we rock together. I can see Riker, eyes agog, watching us. Expressionless, I gesture to him with my chin. ::Go on then.:: He shakes his head in defeat. Geordi smiles knowingly, and his eyes sink back to the table. Raven spins away from me again. I follow and recapture her. "I wouldn't have guessed you to be the extrovert." "You are an excellent dancer," she replies. I notice that a space has cleared for us on the floor. We move through a series of tango steps, neither one of us leading now. "And I love to dance." The musicians nod to each other and one song blends into the next. She mutters something through a smirk. Wicked game? It is a slow, sensuous tune. The swifter motions have left me a bit disoriented, and she steadies me with a laugh. "I'm sorry. I'm afraid I have been liberally lubricated." This makes us both laugh. My cheek is next to hers. I can feel her breath on my face as we move. I pull back to look into her eyes. The fire I feel growing is reflected there. The music isn't helping. The brandy certainly isn't helping. Suddenly, something in me yields. Isn't helping what? Isn't helping you enjoy the affections of a beautiful woman? Isn't helping you enjoy yourself for once? I turn my face and capture her mouth with my own, ever so briefly. She lingers on my lips. Her heart is pounding. Like a bird in my hands. The song ends with a voice holding a long high note. I don't even hear the echoing words... I bury my face in her hair until I'm whispering into her ear. "You are divine." She leans into me. Her words are as alien as the brandy. "So are you." "Have you any idea..." The words stick in my throat. Sanity can be heard - the doubting thomas - somewhere in the distance. "Hmmm?" she murmurs. I must yield to this or forever regret my own cowardice. "Any idea - how much -" the words are as dangerous as any sword, "I want you. Right now." With this bold statement, she pulls away slightly to catch my eyes. She is nodding. She has taken me by the hand, and is backing towards the side door. I follow her, glancing over my shoulder. The crowd shields us. When did this blossom into a conspiracy? We duck through the doorway. No one saw us - aside from the poor dejected lieutenant and his mates. I imagine my expression must echo their own disbelief. We enter an alleyway. The darkness seems more effortless here than inside. She heads for the old brick building opposite us. I look up into the dimness at the rusted metal skeleton of some creature clinging to the wall. Somehow the music can still find us here. She stops at the base of a ladder, turning to face me. Her arms are around my neck, pulling me down to the richness of her mouth again. This kiss is not stolen, it is plundered. Savage almost. Sweet oh the sweetness. I am pulling her hard against me, my hand woven deep in her hair the color of this dreamless night. She is young and vital and alive against me. Sighs of desire surround us, clouding out the world. We are leaning against the wall, my hands caressing her body through the cotton blouse, over the soft denim of her bum. I bend to bite her neck and am answered with the sting of her nails on my back. "Je rêve," I whisper to her. "Je suis ivre." With this, we both start laughing. With the sound of her laughter racing through my blood, I feel young again. I step back from her, still laughing, glancing towards the street. She is holding my hands. I can see Commander Data crowd watching. A cigarette droops from his lower lip. This starts a new chorus of laughter from deep inside me. She looks puzzled as I gesture towards him, and then she is laughing with me. We huddle together, trying to be quiet, tasting each other, caressing each other. The world is spinning ever so slightly. Riker joins Data. They are conversing, probably about where I disappeared to. Looking into her eyes, I smile and am surprised by the words on her lips. "You should go, Captain. Before they miss you." In the same instance, I see the Federation comm badge clipped to her belt. She's winking, lighting a Dunhill, pressing it into my hand. "Don't worry. When you want me to, I'll find you." Another lingering kiss. And then she's away, up the ladder, disappearing into a window. Startled, I turn and find Riker walking towards me down the alley. I lean back against the wall, take a drag off the sweet tobacco, close my eyes and savor the feeling of utter indiscretion. "Captain? Is that you?" Smoke hisses out between my lips. "Yes, Commander. What is it?" "Nothing. Just wondered where you wandered off to. Are you - uh - ready to call it an evening?" Stunned, he was, at the simple vice in my hand. "Sure." I left it at that. Let him wonder for once. Black bird, black bird - fly away home... --- "31, this is Black Bird, come in, over?" "Black Bird, this is 31, status report, over?" "31, you're never gonna believe this." --- ~File Terminate~