"Your material's fine." I reached up, fingers tracing the electric-blue tactical markings on his jaw. They felt slightly raised, textured against his skin. "Better than fine. You're—" The words stuck again, too big and too soon and too honest.
"Say it," he encouraged quietly.
"You're what I want." The admission felt like jumping off a cliff. "The dinner. The trying. The terrifying part where I let myself actually care about someone and hope they don't decide I'm not worth the effort." I swallowed hard. "All of it. I want all of it."
The smile that crossed his face was devastating, genuine pleasure mixed with relief and something that might have been victory. "Then you'll come to dinner."
"Is that an order, Commander?"
"Would you follow it if it was?"
"Probably not."
"Then consider it a request. From someone who's been thinking about kissing you again for the past forty-eight hours and would really like to do so somewhere more private than the electrical systems bay."
Heat flooded through me, not embarrassment this time but something warmer, more dangerous. "Definemore private."
"My quarters. Tonight. 1900 hours." His thumb traced my lower lip, the touch light but electric. "I'll cook. Or attempt to cook. I'm better with weapons than food preparation, but I'm willing to risk potential kitchen disasters for you."
"You don't have to cook. I'm fine with synthesized rations."
"You've been living on synthesized rations for eight months. You deserve actual food." He stepped back, giving me space but keeping his hands on my shoulders like he needed the contact. "Come to dinner, Elena. Let me take care of you for one evening. Let me show you what trying actually looks like."
The electrical systems hummed their approval. Or maybe that was just my heart, finally synchronizing with something outside itself.
"1900 hours," I agreed. "But if you poison us both, I'm blaming you in the medical report."
"Fair enough." He released me reluctantly, moving toward the bay entrance. "Wear something comfortable. Or don't change at all. I don't care what you're wearing as long as you show up."
He left before I could respond, his tactical blacks disappearing into the corridor beyond. I stood there in mysanctuary of circuits and power, heart racing like I'd just done emergency repairs in zero-g.
Then I looked down at my current outfit of work coveralls stained with grease and singe marks, my uniform underneath probably not much better. My hair was definitely doing that thing where it defied every law of physics and several laws of nature.
"Comfortable," I muttered. "Right. Because showing up to dinner looking like I lost a fight with a power conduit is totally the impression I want to make."
I made it exactly three minutes before giving up on the weapons array entirely and heading for the communal areas to find Dana.
Dana wasin Engineering Section 3, naturally, doing something complicated with coolant flow rates that probably made perfect sense if you were a genius environmental engineer. She looked up as I entered, took one look at my face, and immediately set down her datapad.
"What happened?"
"I have a dinner date."
Her eyebrows rose. "With Vaxon."
"How did you know?"
"Elena, everyone knows. You're not exactly subtle." She gestured at a nearby bench. "Sit. Talk. Tell me why you look like you're preparing for combat instead of dinner."
I sat. Fidgeted with a stray wire I'd found in my pocket. "What do I wear?"
"Clothes, generally. That's traditional for dinner."
"Dana."
She softened. "Sorry. Okay. What does your closet situation look like?"
"Three uniforms, two sets of work coveralls, and the formal dress Jalina made me get for Bea's bonding ceremony that I've worn exactly once and swore I'd never wear again because it's impractical and I couldn't move properly in it."
