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Lt Commander Foster - No Regrets (NT)

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((Stationside – The Brewhaus Gastopub))

::Why were relationships hard?  Why was talking hard when one felt stupid about something?

He was Wyn Foster.  He had this façade that nothing was hard unless it was heroic.  Laboring over how best to explain his feelings for a longtime friend was not heroic.  It was just… awkward.::

Foster: So yeah, half of me is elated by this new possibility because you’re cool and I like you and half of me is feeling that I’m a complete moron.  ::he paused an added with a mutter.:: And I hate feeling stupid.

Blackwell:::At first a tinge of pink appeared when he called her cool…she felt giddy and light from the beer combined with the emotions, but as he dropped his voice, she furrowed her brow at that and moved to sit closer to him in the booth:: Oh Wyn….First off, you are not -stupid-. you are not the only person…human or not, to miss cues some think are obvious. Even I miss cues that I should have seen…hindsight is 20/20 and besides, I shouldn’t have asked it like that. I tend to think I’m just…I don’t know, obvious.  See it this way, Saveron..only knew my mind once I told him…so…:: She shrugged::  I guess sometimes I’m better than I know at pushing down things.

::Well if Saveron missed it, maybe it was excusable? 

Wyn leaned forward letting his antennae rock back and forth, absorbing all this information.  It was still a lot to take in.::

Foster: I guess you are.  ::He admitted in something of a compliment.  Not the best compliment mind you, but he was pretty impressed.  It meant she had another layer of subtlety that was previously unrecognized.:: Still begs the question why?

::Yep and still no pulling punches.  He wanted – perhaps needed – more information and he wasn’t above being sassy to get it.::

Blackwell: As I’ve said: fear. I convince myself that…confessing those sort of things to people will just go badly, and there have been times I’ve irritated you ::She eyed him for a moment with a crooked grin:: Anyways…I just got …somewhere along the way, good at compartmentalizing at times…even if there are points where my mental boxes are occasionally a troublesome Pandora’s box for the opening. Either way…don’t feel stupid. ::She put her hand on his arm:: What counts is that we are here now…  ::She could feel two things – first, her heart beating just a bit faster despite sitting, and she couldn’t tell if it was her body working to burn off the alcohol, or simple the fact she was so close to him now that she could see the way the light caught his eyes and hair. She slowly slid her hand down his arm and took  his hand in hers. Her green eyes met his and then she brought his hand to her lips and kissed it gently::  Let’s not dwell on what could have been or what should have been…and accept that..maybe things just sometimes fall into place a little later than anyone would like…and that might make it all the sweeter.

::Wyn had been about to sass back that everyone irritated him at one point or another, up to and including himself.  Irritation was a fact of life even – or especially – in ones you loved.

But then she touched him. 

There were a few things that Wyn hated to admit because, being raised by Terran – subsect: American – cultural standards they communicated weakness.  But they were things that his Andorian biology craved.  Touch was one of the biggest ones.  Andorian homes were small to conserve heat, and families included quads and multi-generations.  Many people sharing heat meant a lot of close contact was simply natural.

Take that away and you ended up with a man who wanted something without realizing it or even understanding why until it happened.  His expression warmed gently::

Foster: You know… I like sweetness…

::Real smooth, Wyn.  Still, could have been far worse.::

Foster: You sure about this?

::Equally smooth.  But honest, checking temperature.::

Blackwell::She leans in, and her voice dropped to whisper warmly to him:: Oh…the beer is making me a little poetic but it isn’t the beer that has me currently intoxicated ::And she leaned in for a gentle kiss on his lips, pulling back only because the waiter came back with their food. She cleared her throat, free hand going to her neck sheepishly and she loosened her grip to release his hand::

::Saved by the waiter?  Or delayed by the waiter?  Oh this was going to be one heck of an interesting night.  Wyn Foster tended to not regret things and he was steeling himself to not be tentative and not regret anything.

So, drink your beer, Wyn and let’s see where this went.::

Foster: Well that was an quite the timing.  But hey, with beer goes food.

Blackwell:: Oh..I should eat. Lunch was a quick protein bar ::before admitting:: and really it was more ‘brunch’ ::And she started to pick at one of the appetizers before he could protest too much::

::He started to click his tongue at her and then smiled.::

Foster: Should I chastise you for that?  I mean I can…

Blackwell:Well, maybe you’ll just need to be around more to make sure I have breakfast ::she said teasingly:: 
::Oh, that was innocent, and naughty all at the same time.  He had the good graces to tinge faintly navy.::

Foster: Well, then… you know we could plan on that.  I’m thinking food, more beer and didn’t I owe you a dance?  Then you know, we make sure you get breakfast in the morning.

Blackwell: That is what I was hoping you would say…

::He beamed.  Glasses clinked.  No regrets.::


Lt. Commander Shar’Wyn Foster
Chief Medical Officer
USS Eagle

"Why do we fly?  Because we have dreamt of it for so long that we must"

~Julian Beck

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