trans_9 | You saw, as always, clearer than me [closed]

Entry tags:

You saw, as always, clearer than me [closed]

Even after his conversation with Luke, it took Steve a day or two to finally work up the courage to seek out Claire. He got close on the second day and then chickened out, then retreated to his room to try and figure out exactly how he was going to phrase this. It was all in the approach, after all.

So he decided today he'd stop by the precinct for... something, he'd probably find something he could do around there-- and if he ran into Claire, then he'd talk to her.

And he ran into her in one of the conference rooms. Shit. Why was it always a conference room?

"Hey- uh... Claire?" he said, clearing his throat. "Are you busy?"

Oh god. What was he doing? This was the worst idea ever.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I know," he said, and nodded. It was just a matter of what he wanted to talk to her about. She was the best source for most things, but the idea of talking to Claire about his own romantic problems sounded like utterly humiliating torture.

And now he had no idea what else to say. He absolutely did not want to ask about Leon. The very mental image of the guy's face was kind of making him nauseous, particularly in any kind of +Claire scenarios. Some masochistic part of him wanted to ask if he'd ever had a chance at all, but that answer would do nothing but rip the hurt even wider, so he kept it to himself.

"I'm sorry, Claire," he finally settled on. "For all this."

"It's fine, Steve." She shook her head, looking down at the floor. "We can't really help stuff like this, anyway." She still had a feeling Steve was confusing his feelings for her, because of the way they'd met, it was easy to impose feelings of romance on someone you'd lived through hell with. She'd actually been very careful not to let that be the only reason she was falling for Leon.

Then again, Steve had had a while longer to let his emotions get the best of him, another reason she probably should've shot him down early. If this was anyone's fault, it was hers.

Steve was quiet for a moment, slowly gathering the courage to look up at her again. He managed a thin smile, but it was probably easy to tell that it was mostly fake and mostly an attempt to save face.

"I guess that's it, then..."

Claire nodded her head, shifting a little to curl her fingers around the table edge.

"Unless you've got anything else to say?" She, as it was, was pretty sure everything was done with. She just hoped he wasn't going to avoid her, now.

"Not really. Nothing that's not gonna make me sound even dumber," Steve admitted with a little shrug as he stood up, more than ready to make a hasty exit.

A moment later he thought better of it and turned around, still looking pretty sheepish. "You're the best friend I have, Claire. Just remember that."

Her brow furrowed briefly, and she nodded her head. "Of course."

Steve let out a heavy sigh and tried to smile at her again. He hated that look on her face and hated feeling like he'd just ruined her day. Even though Claire wasn't going to be the one retreating to her room for the next few hours.

"I guess I'll see you later, then," he said quietly. And like somebody'd fired a starting pistol, he turned on his heels and rushed towards the door. She'd been perfectly nice to him, given the circumstances, but he couldn't help feeling overwhelmed by emotions-- disappointment, shame, sadness, jealousy and anger, with little traces of optimism trying to remind him that Claire considered him family and wanted them to stay friends. He wanted the hell out of here. And since he'd been able to finally say something conclusive, there was no way he was going to take his time.

At least, that was the plan, but when he reached the end of the conference table there was an abrupt, strange humming sound. Steve slammed face-first into some invisible barrier, clutched a hand to his face and stumbled, falling over backwards on the floor.

There was a strange... thing hanging from the ceiling all of a sudden.

"This is of the utmost importance, and part of ongoing Crew Coherency and Cooperation Studies." A computerized voice spoke.

"Please express affection for your fellow crewmate to free them."

"Please do not attempt to leave the vicinity until you have participated."

Claire watched Steve leave, feeling like she'd just somehow made things worse. Of course, things probably would be weird for a while, but it hurt her to think he was practically running from her right now.

Until of course he was stopped by an invisible wall.

"Steve!" She was up and at his side in three strides, kneeling down next to him while the computerized voice spoke overhead. Even as she reached a hand out to help him up she looked around, then up at the ceiling.

"What the-?"

"Shit!" That hurt. Steve sat up, clutched a hand to his forehead and after a second or two, reached down to carefully touch the back of his hand to his nose. Wasn't bleeding. Good, that was the last thing he needed right now. His eyes were watering though and he looked up at the ceiling, wincing.

"Please express affection for your fellow crewmate to free them."

"Please do not attempt to leave the vicinity until you have participated."

"What in the hell is this about?"

"Participation is required. Why wouldn't you want to participate?"

He eyed the... thing on the ceiling. "What is that?"

She stared up at the plant growing from the ceiling, extremely unamused.

"Looks like mistletoe," she said flatly. This was not funny.

There was a long, long pause while Steve pulled himself up off the floor, his eyes still glued to the plant in the ceiling. Oh. Mistletoe.

Mistletoe. Of course it was mistletoe. Now. Here. With her. And they were stuck here. Until somebody "showed affection."

Steve took a long, deep breath. And then he lost it.

"What the fuck is wrong with this fucking ship?" he screamed at nobody in particular, and slammed his foot against the invisible barrier. "Do you think this is fucking funny? Huh? Yeah, real fucking hilarious! I can't have one fucking thing go right, can I? Not even once and not without something showing up and rubbing it in! That's great! This is just-- this is like winning the gold medal in the bullshit olympics, right here! Awesome! Just what my day needed! Fuck this fucking ship!"

He'd been holding it in for some time now, but that was the last straw. He grabbed the nearest chair at the conference table and threw it to the floor with a clatter. "God dammit!"

Claire hadn't entirely expected Steve to snap, although with how stressed out he already was she wasn't completely surprised. Alarmed, yes, surprised, no.

"Steve, calm down!" She pulled herself up as he threw the chair, reaching out to catch a hold of his shoulder. "Freaking out isn't going to help anything, here!"

"Well then what the hell else is?" Steve snapped and wrestled his shoulder out from under her hand. "Right, right, this is an experiment! I love those! Do you think they sit around and time these things, or is my life that much of a disaster where this kind of shit happens to me naturally? For fuck's sake!" This had effectively destroyed whatever dignity he had left in the conversation, so it was either he make a bunch of cynical comments or he burst into tears. And he absolutely would not do that in front of Claire.

His tirade was interrupted when he suddenly winced in pain and reached vaguely for his chest. "Ah... shit!" he groaned, then turned to lean against the table. He gritted his teeth and forced a few deep, shaky breaths. After a few moments he seemed to have made himself calm down, though he was still gripping the edge of the table so hard his knuckles were white.

"This isn't funny," he muttered.

She held her hands up when he brushed her off, looking a little panicked when he showed obvious pain, the virus clearly rearing its ugly head. She moved forward, reaching out to touch his shoulder again, gripping it a little more firmly this time.

"It's okay, Steve. This isn't a big deal." Not exactly true, but she wasn't going to freak out.

He still felt that pressure in his chest, so he was still doing his best to relax by taking deep breaths. His shoulder tensed up when Claire gripped it, but he was grateful for it anyway.

"Maybe not to you," he pointed out.

Claire sighed, tilting her head slightly to the side in a weary manner.

"So much for things not being weird."

"Yeah, no kidding. Story of our lives." He managed a tiny half-a-smile at that and after a moment, also managed to glance over at her.

Awkwardly.

Very, very awkwardly. And there was still some inner voice of his that wanted to brand this "romantic tension." Dammit.

"So, um. Just FYI? I am not okay with this."

Claire couldn't help but smile a little at that, despite how not funny the situation was.

"Funny, I couldn't tell."

"Yeah. This whole getting-shoehorned-into-my-first-kiss-ever-from-the-girl-I-like-five-minutes-after-she-shuts-me-down thing is just. Awesome."

At least he could be sarcastic about it quietly now.

The smile melted off her face at that, and she sighed, glancing up at the mistletoe on the ceiling again before leaning forward to kiss Steve on the cheek. She hoped that would be enough, otherwise she was going to need to call someone else. Because it was just unkind to do this to the poor kid.

"Don't be so dramatic."

He involuntarily held his breath the moment he saw Claire starting to lean towards him, and by the time she pulled away his face was just about the same color as his hair.

"Thank you for your participation," said the computerized voice, and there was another faint hum as the barrier presumably disappeared.

This left Steve there, red as a fire truck, quickly bringing a hand up to his cheek. "Um. Thanks..." For what? God, you're an idiot!

Claire was quietly relieved that the kiss on the cheek seemed sufficient, and she leaned away from Steve, smiling a little. At least he didn't self destruct from embarrassment, although he did look like he was just about fit to explode. She patted him on the shoulder, tilting her head slightly.

"Don't mention it."

He swallowed and turned to eye the door behind him. Though this time, he was wary about making a quick exit, even if he felt even more like he needed to.

"So can we never, ever, ever mention this ever again?" he asked a moment later.

"Yeah, sure." She was pretty content to let this whole thing slide into the category of things that just were not going to be talked about ever again.

As was he. Though it would undoubtedly be popping up sooner or later in the form of suffocating awkwardness.

"So I should. Probably go. Before something else happens," he muttered, looking away from her again. Maybe the ship would throw down a barrier that wouldn't let you go until you lost your virginity, or something else that would make Steve think killing himself would be a better option.

You saw, as always, clearer than me [closed]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)