Penalty Flags

Posted on Wed Sep 10th, 2025 @ 3:11am by Lieutenant Evelyn Stewart & Lieutenant JG Koaruh Avestro

1,640 words; about a 8 minute read

Mission: Year One: Strange Bedfellows
Location: USS Moore - Evelyn Stewart's Quarters
Timeline: MD: 039 - 1:30hrs

Stewart was still breathing hard when she gently rolled away from Koaruh to lay back on the bed. Pushing her hair back off her face she laid there listening to the sound of their labored breathing and feeling the waves of pleasure start to slowly radiate out from her body through her over heated skin.

Staring up at the ceiling over her bed, she realized this had been the fifth time this week, third in a row, that she had Koaruh stay the night in her quarters as Kei's words from their altercation at the boxing matches ran through her head. Unconsciously glancing at Koaruh on the other side of the bed, Evelyn let out a heavy breath and moved under the sheets to keep warm from the chill that would come when the sweat would cool on her skin. "I know you have crew evaluations with Greco tomorrow morning. If you need to go..." she offered nonchalantly as she settled, reaching for the glass of water on the bedside she was smart enough to bring in advance.

Koaruh rolled onto his side and draped an arm over her waist, voice low and warm. “That’s a very polite way of telling me to clear off,” he teased, “but I’m not in a rush. Two alarms, six-minute sonic, and Greco still gets the saintly version of me in the morning.”

His thumb traced a lazy line along her collarbone. “If this is about optics, let them gossip—I’m exactly where I want to be.” He stole a small sip of her water and set it back within reach. “But it’s your quarters, your call. If you want space, say the word and I’m gone. If you want company, I’ll shut up, keep you warm, and slip out before your chronometer can judge us.”

He pressed a soft kiss to her temple. “Your choice, Evelyn.”

It wasn't a response Stewart was expecting and only put her more on edge. Slowly turning just enough to lay her shoulders back and properly face him, Evelyn gave a quick polite smile in acknowledgement of his words and touch before pressing the matter. "So you don't think we are moving things too fast?" She asked, reading into his words.

Koaruh’s features softened, the tease dropping away. “Only if it feels too fast to you,” he said gently. “I’m not planting a flag or writing my name on your door—I like you, and I like this, but I’m happy to keep it light and at your pace. If your gut says slow down, we slow down: fewer overnights, more daylight, more talking—whatever helps you breathe. I’m here because I want to be, not to claim anything. Tell me the line you need and I’ll honour it.”

Stewart heard the soft tone that Koaruh used, his "therapy voice", as she referred to it and sighed in frustration before giving him a hard look. "What I need is for you to stop playing the ship's counselor and have an actual opinion." She snapped, growing from agitation to hostility quickly as she moved to get up and put on her robe.

Koaruh’s expression steadied; no smile, no deflection. “You’re right—no counselling voice.”

He sat up, hands open on his knees. “My opinion? I don’t think it’s too fast. I’m here because I want to be, and I want you. Five nights wasn’t casual.”

He kept his distance, giving her space. “If it is too much for you, tell me what you need—fewer nights, more boundaries, whatever it is—and I’ll respect it.”

A quieter beat. “What I want is to stay.”

Evelyn looked at Koaruh. What she wanted was control. She wanted to dictate the rules, the pace, the direction they were going and now that she had it unconditionally, she didn’t know what to do with it.

She was used to men playing her little game of arguing with her for control, chasing after her or giving her some fault to focus on to end things before they got serious. Koaruh didn’t have any and wasn’t playing her games. She could feel her anxiety growing as the seconds ticked away and she said nothing. “I…” she sighed, not able to bring herself to admit she didn’t know what she wanted.

Instead the pilot moved quietly back into the living area and pour herself a small drink to buy herself time to think and calm her nerves. Downing the small glass, she took a moment and thought before coming back to the doorway. “It hasn’t been that long since the accident.” She said softer as an excuse.

Koaruh stayed where he was, his voice quiet but steady, the weight of empathy threaded through every word. “You don’t need to explain anything to me. I can feel it, Evelyn—it’s still right there with you. Anyone could see how much it weighs on you, but for me it’s… closer than that. You don’t have to hide it or dress it up for my sake.”

He paused, giving her space, no pressure in his tone. “Grief doesn’t run on a timetable, and it doesn’t care how many days or weeks have passed. It’s yours, and it’s heavy, and it doesn’t make you weak to admit that. I’m not here to rush you or to be a distraction. I’m here if you want me close, and I’ll keep being here—even if all you need tonight is quiet.”

Stewart rolled her eyes as she listened before going back to pour herself a larger glass, bringing the bottle with her as she walked back to the doorframe, placing it on the dresser to be in reach if it was needed. If nothing else, it was something familiar to her in these moments. Taking a sip of her whiskey, she looked at Koaruh.

"I don't need to be told what grief is and how it works. I've had plenty of it in my life." She said sarcastically before she took a larger sip. "And I certainly don't need a Bajoran Vedek sitting here on his little toadstool pontificating on platitudes. You're not the one the entire ship knows you were sleeping with the former captain and then the ship's counselor. It's easy for you to not give a damn about the gossip when you are standing to the side like a-" Stewart managed to cut off her angry rant before she finished her thought and said something too cutting she knew she'd regret. Instead she took another long drink as a distraction.

Koaruh held her gaze, steady. “Fair enough. You don’t need me talking like you’re one of my patients. If I’ve done that, that’s on me.”

He let the silence hang for a moment before adding, firmer now, “And don’t think I don’t hear the rumours. I do. But I don’t give a damn what anyone whispers. Since when have you?”

He left it there, unflinching, the challenge clear but without heat—just the truth laid bare.

Evelyn held Koaruh's gaze. She was surprised he had the nerve to challenge her after all. Feeling the whiskey burn down her throat as she took another sip, she continued to look into his obsidian eyes.

"Of course you don't, Koaruh. You just want to make sure everyone is laughing and having a good time." She said evenly, if not a bit condescending. "Which isn't too hard for you considering you are a joke, and everyone knows it. Just like your career. Nearly thirty and still just a JG, not even a department head." She added coldly, with a disappointed - almost mocking - shake of her head.

It was now Evelyn's turn to leave her statement hanging there, unflinching while she watched the Counselor's reaction.

Koaruh didn’t flinch so much as shut. The warmth in his eyes went flat, the easy humour gone; you could almost feel his shields click into place.

“Wow,” he said, voice low and edged. “There it is.”

He swung his legs off the bed and stood, collecting his undershirt without hurry. “You don’t get to spit on me and call it honesty. I’m not your Vedek, your punch bag, or the thing you break so you don’t have to look at yourself.”

He pulled the shirt over his head, jaw tight. “You want pips? Date pips. I chose the work, not the parade. That doesn’t make me a joke, and it sure as hell doesn’t make you clever.”

He stepped closer only far enough to set her half-finished glass aside on the dresser, out of the splash zone rather than out of reach, then backed off again—distance re-asserted. “You asked for my opinion. You got it. Then you went for the throat. That’s not banter, Evelyn. That’s cruel.”

He fastened his boots, breath steady but hard. “I’m not staying in a room where I’m talked to like that. Not tonight. Maybe we can have a grown conversation when you’re sober and actually want me here—not as a prop, not as a target.”

At the door he paused, hand on the control. “You wanted a flag? Here’s mine: respect. You can plant it—or not. Your choice.”

The door hissed open and he stepped into the corridor without looking back.

Evelyn just silently watched Koaruh dress and leave, listening with no emotion. It was only after he left that she sigh and shook her head at the situation. She had gotten what she wanted but it was far from satisfying.

 

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