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sambethe · 6 years

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Ashburn FF: Let’s Not Talk of...

Summary: There was supposed to be more time.

Time for him to deal with his shit. Time to carve out a place for himself. Time for the two of them to rebuild.

Just simply time.

Words: 2600 | Rated: T | ao3

A/N: A set of missing scenes set in between events going on from Point of Light to Project Daedalus. There are mentions of the Voq surprise baby plot, so fair warning in case that’s an issue.

+++

Try to take her at her word.

It had been almost a year since he had last seen her. A long series of days and months since he had asked the impossible of her. Since she had laid out the truth of the path in front of him, and made it unequivocally clear that it was one he’d be alone on.

Not that Ash blamed her.

He would have hoped that a year had been long enough. That enough time had passed that those words, coming from her mouth, wouldn’t have the power to cut. But he should have known that he was nothing but a live wire when it came to Michael, and that he had no clue how shield himself from her effects.

Tonight, though, he could swear Michael felt something too.

There was a flash. A spark. The briefest of something that crossed her face as he watched her.

But maybe he was just fooling himself and it was nothing more than a figment. Something his mind conjured to haunt him as he crawled into bed, planting a seed of hope that Ash should know better than to foster.

She’s moved on, you fool. Let her go.

His mind was not something to be trusted on the best of a days.

She had smiled, though. That much he was sure he hadn’t made up. And made him laugh. When was the last time he had laughed? But there was also another expression there as well, in the moments before her smile, one he couldn’t quite decipher. That fact pained him, because once, not all that long ago, he knew how to read her so well.

Ash would like to blame the distance, or the holographic projection, but he knew that for the cop out it was.

He was the one that put the distance there.

He hadn’t trusted her when it counted, hadn’t taken her at her word that he could lean on her when he needed it most.

The distance hadn’t stopped her ability to spark a lightness in his chest, though, or the warmth that slowly spooled down his limbs, relaxing his shoulders as she dragged out their conversation.

She had dragged it out, hadn’t she? He hadn’t invented that, right?

Hope flared in his chest all over again at that, and Ash hated himself a little bit for it.

He shifted in his bed, kicking at the sheets that clung to his skin uncomfortably until they sat across his hips. His quarters here on Qo’nos were always overwarm, and the humidity like foggy stew that blanketed the air. Tonight, however, Ash didn’t think the humidity was to blame for his restlessness.

He had tried to give her an out, tried to cut the call short once his message was delivered.

Michael was the one who had...

He shook his head without letting himself finish that thought.

He was a fool.

A fool who should have just sent a subspace message. Talking to her directly was an indulgence he shouldn’t have allowed.

He was still unsure why she accepted it.

Even worse, he wondered how he would have felt if she hadn’t.

Ash had known what was waiting for him on that dias the moment Ujilli gestured him forward.

No matter that it was something he wanted to wish away and cling to simultaneously.

A baby. His baby.

The infant had Voq’s pale skin, and that, more than anything, flared a different sort of ache in his chest. Though a soothing sort of peace trailed behind it. A sense of rightness grounding him in a way that he hadn’t thought he was still capable of feeling .

Kids had always been a distant thought. Before. And he wasn’t sure he’d given them any in the days since he had been captured.

But the Ash who once was?

He had wanted them.

They had been one of those distant maybe, someday kind of wishes. In that sort of future that unfolds for normal people. It had been just him and his mom for so long. Then, later, just him.

He’d dreamt of it though -- of a large house, voices and noise echoing and rattling throughout it. Of holidays spent with full tables and more dishes than you could count. Of a daughter he could teach to fish and how to shoot. Of a son he might see off to the Academy one day.

And what had Voq -- son of none -- dreamt?

Memories flooded through him. Ones full of loneliness and longing. He could see a young boy walking the halls of an orphanage -- the wish to belong a constant thrum dominating his thoughts.

The irony of two lost boys coming together as they have was not lost on Ash for a moment.

And to have to let go this boy in his arms, it hurt more than he had thought possible. To leave this boy alone, with the same sets of questions both he and Voq carried. That was something that cut Ash to the quick.

He hadn’t thought there were further parts of his heart -- his soul -- that were left to be taken from him.

As everything swirled through his head, his heart, it wasn’t his own mother or L’Rell that he ached to reach out to, to lean on.

It was Michael’s presence he wished for, her reassuring calm. Her poise and her quiet voice, even if he really didn’t need for her to say anything. He knew the choice that must be made, knew what needed to be done. But if anyone would understand what he was feeling -- would have a kind word that could serve as a balm -- it would be her.

And what was worse, he wanted to lean on her. Desperately. Despite everything that had transpired. Everything she had said to him. Everything he had done.

He hated himself for the fact of how much he still wanted.

He paced the length of his newly assigned quarters, quietly rocking the boy as he did, and was suddenly grateful that he had no assigned security codes. No means to reach out to Michael, or anyone really. Without that barrier, Ash was sure he would have caved.

She was an indulgence he couldn’t afford.

He needed to let her go. Allow her the space to move on. Even when he couldn’t.

Of-fucking-course.

He had wanted to laugh once Leland had left him alone in the gym. The padd containing details of his first off-ship assignment still sat where it had been dropped on his chest as he was laid back on one of the workout benches.

Subtlety was apparently not been high on Leland’s list of priorities.

When he finally got the courage to thumb through the details, the data dump of history and background materials scrolled past him almost entirely unread. His eyes couldn’t seem to focus on anything that wasn’t the name USS Discovery. Because he should have known, that the combination of his awful luck and the fact of who else in 31 would know that ship -- and her crew -- like he did would make his assignment there an irresistible choice.

Ash would have just preferred more time, and more distance, before he had to step foot on those halls. More time to fortify his memories. His emotions. Himself.

And maybe, just maybe, a small part of him wanted the chance to avoid all of it for just a while longer.

To a time when he was stronger. To when he had more time to plan. Maybe once he finally stopped feeling things he knew he didn’t have the luxury to feel any more.

But time, or a choice in the matter, hadn’t been things granted to him of late.

And now here, in Discovery’s mess hall, sitting across the table from Michael, her dark eyes coolly assessing, it all seemed so familiar and… not. A nervousness clawed up his throat, a confirmation that his instinct to stay away had been right. He needed more time.

It took more than he cared to admit to not reach out across the table and pull her hand into his. Not to squeeze it and draw strength from the deep well he knew she possessed. It would be unfair to ask that of her, he knew that. It was not her job to support him, to pull him through the morass of his own thoughts.

It’s a very interesting journey...

Part of him ached to tell her all of it. A greater part, though, along with his near overwhelming need for self-preservation, was soothed by his newfound ability to hide behind the cloak of the ‘classified’ stamp. That one word proved to be the barrier he needed, the one he couldn’t seem to erect for himself when it came to her.

He watched her watch him. There was a wariness about her that he hadn’t seen since his last days aboard Discovery. There was a new carefulness about the set to her shoulders, something more practiced in her stance. It was as if she were bracing for yet another blow, and it left him to wonder again if he invented that flash of a smile that had played at her lips during their call.

If he was inventing the hint of warmth in her eyes even now as she sat across from him.

It couldn’t really be there. She had moved on.

Maybe if he repeated that enough he’d teach himself not to wish for things that were not there. She had made it clear that avenue was closed to him. It wouldn’t do him good to hope.

Hope would do nothing more than leave him feeling strung out. Brittle. Like he might break.

He shook his head as he trailed behind her to the turbolift.

He needed more time.

“Do you ever sleep?”

Ash didn’t jump at the sound of Tilly’s voice behind him, but it was a near thing.

He’d meant to go on a run. Had thought the exercise might allow him to pass out when he finally returned to his quarters. Had hoped the familiar low light of the passageways passing beside him as he focused on nothing more than the steady in-out rhythm of his own breathing might provide their own brand of comfort.

Instead all they managed to do was serve as a reminder of how much had changed.

Not turning from his spot in front of the small observation window at a nondescript junction in Discovery’s vast network of halls, he replied, “Sometimes.”

“0130 seems as good a time as any. To try at least.”

Ash shrugged as Tilly came to stand beside him. She wasn’t wrong, but every time he closed his eyes everything he tried to bury would surface and play out in vivid detail behind his closed eyes.

Tilly nudged him with her shoulder. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but whatever you are getting, you need more.”

“I’ll take that under advisement.” He leaned into her as he bit back a smile. This one thing, at least, hadn’t changed. This easy thing that flowed between them ever since that first afternoon Tilly dropped herself down at his table was still there. He’d be forever grateful for it -- for her. “Why are you awake?”

Tilly glanced over and offered him a sheepish grin. “Lost track of time.”

He smiled. “Uh huh. Maybe you should take your own advice, then.”

She turned her attention back out the window. “Maybe.”

They remained like that for a long while. Just the two of them, surrounded by nothing more than the quiet hum of the ship’s engines and Tilly’s even breathing. Though she was so still as they stood there that it nagged at him, even as he had no idea how to ask what might be keeping her awake too.

He wondered just how much he had missed in his time away.

“She’s not the Michael she was a year ago.”

The words came tumbling out of Tilly in a rush. Their suddenness and lack of preamble made Ash go stiff, torn between wanting to cut off her off and the desire to hear everything she’s willing to tell him.

“I thought you should know that.”

Ash blinked, trying to focus on the starfield laid out in front of them. “Why?”

“Because, you should know. That whatever was done, whatever was said between you last year, she’s different. She’s more open. More honest in a way -- not that she was never not honest -- but it’s a different sort now. She’s a different type of honest, about herself and about her friends. So don’t continue to shut her out.”

“I’m not shutting any --”

The look Tilly shot him was quelling enough to swallow his obvious lie.

“She’s doesn’t --” Ash struggled to continue, not sure how to put the fact that it was better this way. That they were better this way. All of them. That he needed to stand on his own before he started to rely on her, on any of them, again. But Tilly didn’t seem interested in letting him continue.

“Come with me.”

He turned, tilting his head in a silent question. She looked him up and down, taking in his running shoes and sweats. “You’re obviously not running tonight. So let’s go get a drink.”

“I don’t think that’s…” He trailed off, not sure where exactly he wanted to go with that thought.

“What? Does 31 not allow you to fraternize with the rest of Starfleet? Did I miss a memo?”

“No.” He fell in line beside her as she began to move down the hallway.

Tilly linked her arm in his. “Good. Because it’s been a long day of staring at screen after screen of information from the sphere and my brain can use a rest. Plus I miss kicking your ass a poker. Up for a hand or two?”

He smiled and tugged her arm a little closer, letting that squeeze speak the words he can’t say.

“Lead the way.”

There was supposed to be more time.

Time for him to deal with his shit. Time to carve out a place for himself. Time for the two of them to rebuild.

Just simply time.

But now there were three hours and a countdown that had them sending Michael to her death. Three hours where didn’t know what he should say, or if she even wanted him to say anything. Three hours until he’d have to trust this crew with almost everything left in this world that means anything to him.

Because Michael couldn’t be yet another thing he’d be left to count in the stack of things he’d lost.

When the indicator at his door rang he knew it had to be her. She had always been the braver of the two of them -- plowing head first into bridging the divide he couldn’t quite figure out how to cross.

He reminded himself, again, that he just needed to trust in her. In this crew. Despite everything in his experience that told him trust wasn’t something he should place anyone, he knew that was something he could give her.

So with her here now, standing in his arms, he opted to not think.

There are a million reasons why this plan was a terrible one. There are a million more why the two of them did not work.

So he would take the quiet moment given to just sway with her. And be here in this moment, because she was Michael Burnham, and he could be the strength she needed.

#ash tyler #michael burnham #ashburn #star trek discovery #michael burnham x ash tyler #star trek disco #my ff st dsc #ashburn ff

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sambethe · 6 years

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Ashburn FF: Reciprocity

Summary:

He is different. He’s Agent Tyler. Solitary. Alone. Apart. This time it's Michael's turn to forge ahead.

Words: 1150 | Rated: G | ao3

A/N: Sorry? Sort of. Look, it's not my fault canon is a giant pile of angst. Or that @cuddlybitch plants more angst in my head with this as the end result. Go yell at her too. ;) All of this is set somewhere in between the events going on in Saints of Imperfection and The Sound of Thunder.

+++

He is different.

Not that it isn’t him. Ash.

He is a man Michael would recognize anywhere. His loping gait, the slope of his shoulders, the curve of his mouth. They are as familiar to her as her own reflection. He still drinks his tea with entirely too much milk. It makes her smile every time she sees his hand curl around a cup.

It makes her wonder if Klingons drink tea. And if not, what he drank all those months he spent on Qo’noS.

She wonders if she’ll ever get the chance to ask.

She can see him in his eyes as well, even when she’s pretty sure he’d prefer she didn’t. He’s there in his occasional quip to the crew when at his station on the bridge. In the quizzical pull of his brow as he stares at something scrolling along screen in front of him.

But still, the man who walks Discovery’s corridors now is not the man she last watched as he walked away from her in a Klingon back alley.

Many of the changes are subtle - his hair, his beard, the tired lines that creep around the corners of his eyes. Michael wonders if he sleeps even less than he did before.

But others are decidedly less so.

There’s a brittleness, and a hesitancy, to his words that she doesn’t remember. This version of Ash is someone who is quiet, closed off, and angry. The calm, affable man she so admired -- envied -- is nowhere to be found. The old Ash lies buried deep somewhere.

Or so she hopes.

She thinks she sometimes sees glimmers. Flashes of humor, grace, and the man who connected to those around him -- to her -- almost as easily as breathing. In those moments his shoulders lose their stiffness and his face goes softer. Each time she feels like she almost reaches him, but then it’s like he catches himself and withdraws.

It’s almost like she imagines each brief encounter. Imagines him.

The Ash here now is one who doesn’t kick out the chair across from him in greeting when she approaches his table in the mess hall.

She hadn’t known the absence of so small a gesture could cut so deeply.

Ash continues to avoid her. Though from what she can tell he avoids Tilly, Bryce, and the rest of the crew as well.

A cold comfort, really, if there ever was one.

When she does see him outside of their joint shifts, he is always alone. He’ll be coming from the gym, or on a run, or eating a meal. At the last, he always has a padd out in front of him, the low light of the screen highlighting the drawn quality to his face. The only company she ever sees him with is the shadow of his ever-present security detail trailing nearby.

He’s Agent Tyler. Solitary. Alone. Apart.

She can think of a dozen more words, but they all mean the same thing and they all feel so wrong. Because whatever -- whoever -- Ash Tyler is, she knows he’s not that.

Michael knows she’s had a hand in this, this closed off version of him. But she knows that the distance she caused between them was a necessary one. She had believed what she told him about the hard work ahead of him.

She also knows now that part of her assessment was wrong.

It was, and is, grueling and punishing. It continues to be relentless. But reclaiming her life, who she was and who she now is, was anything but a solitary endeavor. She shudders to think of where she’d be without Tilly. Saru. Stamets. Even Lorca in his own twisted way.

This crew, and this ship, has meant all the difference.

Michael keeps trying.

Ash may not push out a chair when he sees her, but that doesn’t mean she can’t sit anyway. He may not welcome her, exactly, when she does, but he doesn’t walk away either.

She’s decided that it’s enough for now.

He’s said he’s searching for a place where he makes sense. He’s told her that he’s found it in Section 31, but Michael remains unconvinced.

She knows where he belongs. It may not necessarily be with her, but it’s definitely here on Discovery. With his friends. With this crew.

It just might take some time for her to make him see it. And that’s ok. This time around she knows it is her turn to be kind, and patient. It’s her turn to let him know she’s the one not going anywhere.

“I’m told they’re traditional.”

She’s standing at the door to Ash’s quarters, holding up the two bags in her hand -- one filled with popcorn and the other with chocolate covered almonds. From the corner of her eye she can see Nhan down the hall, but she chooses to keep her focus on the man standing in front of her. His forehead wrinkles as he blinks and takes her in.

He’s wearing standard issue sweatpants and a hoodie. His feet are bare, his toes curling against the dark carpet beneath them. It’s a sight so familiar that it makes her want to cry.

Michael smiles instead.

“What are you doing here?”

“I couldn’t sleep. I thought you might be awake too. Can I come in?” She hands him the bag with the popcorn, hoping he’ll see it for the gesture it is.

Before, well, everything, Ash had discovered she’d only seen a handful of old Earth movies while growing up. He had started constructing lists of what they were going to have to watch to catch her up.

You’re human, Michael. It’s practically mandatory that I help you with this. You’ll enjoy it. I promise.

Michael wasn’t really sure she’d understood the point, but she couldn’t deny his enthusiasm. And the way he had winked at her when it said it hadn’t hurt his case either.

But in the end there hadn’t been time enough.

Now, though, she’s determined to correct that.

“You want to watch a movie? At oh two hundred hours?”

“Yes,” she answers honestly.

She doesn’t look away as he peers down at her, assessing. As he watches her she can’t help but remember her words to him just a couple weeks ago.

You’ve got me. Right here.

She’s not sure if he remembers them, or even heard her when she said them. She’s not even sure he can read the thoughts she’s sure are clear on her face right now. But when he finally steps away from the doorway and gestures her inside, she lets out a breath.

This is definitely enough. A connection. A tether, no matter how tenuous, to the place she wants to be.

To the person she wants to be.

And with enough time, she knows Ash’ll get there too.

#michael burnham #ash tyler #ashburn #star trek discovery #michael burnham x ash tyler #star trek disco #my ff st dsc #ashburn ff

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sambethe · 6 years

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Ashburn FF: A Slip Out of Time

Summary: Step on the boat. Get the data chip from him. Leave one in return. Go.

Simple enough, right?

Right.

If only things were simple. If only their futures could take a moment and not look so different.

Words: 4400 | Rated: M | ao3

A/N: Nothing like starting a fic in February 2017 and then letting it languish for a year before finishing it. Oops. But nothing like the threat of a new season of canon to compel you to finish it. Hope you enjoy!

+++

“You sure you don’t want me to come with you? I’d be happy to…”

Tilly trailed off and the two of them stood at the end of the dock. Michael felt rooted to the spot, resisting the urge to curl her fingers around the cuffs of her tunic, to slip them beneath to run along the length of rope tied around her left wrist.

She could do this. A simple step forward on the wood planking. Mere meters to the 18th slip, as instructed.

Why was she still standing here?

It was a simple mission. A brief intelligence swap. If she could just compel her feet to move forward, she could nearly be done and back at their lodging, curled up in a chair with a book and a cup of tea. This was certainly nowhere near a harrowing mission. At least nothing that deserved this level of trepidation.

Her classmates back on Vulcan would sneer if they could see her in this moment.

Michael tried to remind herself she no longer cared.

While she stared off at the water, Tilly continued to fidget at her side. Michael could feel each of her movements, every shift of her weight to her right foot, then left foot, before she started the pattern anew. Tilly clasped her hands behind her back and then let them fall to her side, only to then turn to adjust her ponytail for the third time since they had arrived at the dock. Each slide of the fabric of Tilly’s clothing sounded deafening over the quiet lap of the water beneath their feet.

The harbor that stretched before them seemed impossibly still by comparison. The glint of the water, tinted almost violet in the bright afternoon sun, was the only outward sign of the currents running deep below. It was a perfect, tranquil spot. She could understand why, of all the options in this sector, Ash picked this spot.

In any other time, and any other place.

If they were any other two people...

Michael reached out and clasped her hand over Tilly’s, stilling her movements. She was grateful for her offer, more than she had means to express. The two of them had spent the morning wandering market stalls, playing tourist as a means to disguise their intended purpose -- the swap of data discs and allowing Stamets and his team time to locate another cache of samples. As much as she might want to accept, Michael knew she could delay no further or send Tilly in her stead.

She paused one more beat before stating the obvious. “I’ve delayed long enough.”

Tilly shook her head. “I don’t mind. Really. Besides, I don’t think I’ve ever been on a sailboat. It would be fun to --”

“I’ll be fine.” Michael squeezed Tilly’s hand, hoping the gesture would be reassurance enough, afraid that anything more might betray the tremor in her hand. “I can handle this. Besides, Lt. Commander Stamets is expecting you.”

“Right,” Tilly said with an emphatic nod of her chin. “Straight intel swap, nothing more.” She nodded again to herself and then looked at Michael. “You promise to be back at the hotel before sunset?”

Michael gave her a smile she didn’t quite feel. “Of course. I should be here no more than an hour. There will be plenty of daylight remaining for me to return, and I will meet you and the rest of the team at the rendezvous tomorrow at 16:00.”

She squeezed Tilly’s hand one more time before letting go and taking a step forward. It wasn’t until she was about a third of the way down the dock that she heard Tilly call out behind her.

“Tell Ash I miss his face in real time.”

Michael didn’t turn, but nodded just the same. Whether it was for her own benefit or Tilly’s, she wasn’t quite sure.

He looked good.

She almost hated that that was her first thought upon catching sight of him on the deck. He’d grown a beard and his hair was long. It appeared that it had been months since he last cut it. Most of it was gathered back in a ridiculous knot, though a few pieces had escaped in the front and curled around his temples. It should not be something Michael found endearing -- attractive -- and yet.

Amanda would laugh if she were here to witness this moment.

He was still lanky, his frame deceptively slight in the t-shirt and loose pants he wore. Her attention snagged on the flex of his biceps and the curl of his fingers as he coiled a length of rope. His skin looked soft, tanner than she’d have expected after eight months of living on Qo'noS. Michael also sort of hated, and not, that she noticed that as well. More importantly, though, the drawn quality she remembered to his face when she had last seen him had faded. She was glad for that, even as she still hesitated to call out to him.

And maybe she hesitated because of it.

Despite the hair, he looked so much like the man she had come to know before they stepped on board the mirror Shenzhou. Had she expected something different? Seeing him here, she suspected that she had hoped something about him would be tangibly different.

All of this would be easier if he were.

I see you, Ash.

She meant those words when she had uttered them. She still did.

But it did not mean that the truth of them, or her jumbled emotions surrounding them, had gotten any easier to process in the intervening months.

And being here now, with him standing only meters away? It simultaneously felt like years had passed and no time at all. Time had stretched and contracted, and stretched again, only to land her here in this moment -- paralyzed in way that was becoming uncomfortably familiar to her.

Before she could make a decision, time contracted again and Ash turned and offered her a small, half-smile as he leaned back on the bow’s railing. “You going to stand there all afternoon, Commander?”

Michael wanted to bristle, or maybe to wipe the smug look from his face, but then he bit down on his lower lip as he swept his gaze from her face down to her feet. By the time he focused once again on her face she’d almost forgotten all the reasons why she should be angry with him.

Why she should not trust him.

And yet, it was him. Ash.

“So you heard?”

“Kind of hard to miss the news. Even on the edge of space.”

She nodded out to the water. “I’d hardly call this the edge of the galaxy.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Perhaps I do.” She shrugged. “Permission to come aboard, Captain?”

Ash’s smile turned sly and it warmed her chest. Michael wanted to scold herself, chant reminders of all the ways this feeling was wrong. There were still so many things to say, so much left unresolved.

“Just through tonight,” he said, interrupting her rambling thoughts. He ran his hand along the smooth brass railing before taking a step toward her. “Tomorrow she’ll be returned to her rightful captain.”

Michael took a breath. Step on the boat. Get the data chip from him. Leave one in return. Go. Simple enough, right?

Right.

Ash offered her a hand as she stepped over the lip at the top of the plank and climbed over the edge. He held her hand until she steadied, his thumb running along the side of her own all the while. There should not be so much comfort in so small a gesture, but in these last couple of years her life seemed to be consist of nothing more than a series of events that should not be.

“Come sit.” He gestured to the bow. “As the afternoon light fades, the water turns a deeper shade of purple. You should stay and watch.”

Not waiting to see if she followed, he made his way back toward the bow, holding his hand out behind him as he did. Whether he didn’t notice her hesitation, or chose to ignore it, Michael wasn’t entirely sure. Deciding she didn’t care, she took his proffered hand and followed him to the front of the ship.

They sat in silence for a while, him sitting cross-legged beside her as she swung her feet over the side. It was nice. Peaceful. Any of the turmoil she had felt faded with the each sway of ship beneath her.

That and the fact Ash hadn’t let go of her hand.

Michael used her free hand to rustle in the pocket where she’d stored the chip Admiral Cornwell had provided. “This is for you.” She held it out to him and he pocketed it with a nod.

With that done, she should ask about the one he promised in return. Instead, she studied the side of his face. His beard was full. In the abstract, it wasn’t something she’d have thought she’d like, but was surprised at how tempting she found it. She itched to feel the short hair beneath her fingertips. And though she knew she shouldn’t, she followed the impulse, reaching out and tracing the backs of her knuckles along his jaw.

It tickled, and scratched. She stretched and curled her fingers, dragging her nails as she explored. Ash closed his eyes as she did, tilting his head to press her hand closer to him. It lit something low and warm in her belly.

“Michael,” he whispered.

She smiled and continued her exploration, brushing up his jaw and down along his ear. Threading her fingers into his hair, she spread them just enough to loosen the tie that held the longer strands back. His hair was soft as it hit the back of her hand and she pushed her fingers deeper, enjoying the play of it against her skin. She wondered if it smelled like him, or if it was more like whatever shampoo he used now.

She leaned in, brushing her lips at the corner of his mouth before trailing her nose along his jaw. She took a breath when she reached his temple. The scent that greeted her was some combination of him, soap, sweat, and the salt that permeated the air around them. It made her heart trip and beat out an even thrum all at once.

The hand holding hers tightened and his other cupped the back of her head, leaning her into him as he rubbed his cheek against hers. “Michael,” he repeated and drew his mouth down the column of her throat. She tipped her head back, granting him further access as he left a series of lingering kisses that sent lightening along every nerve in her arms and up her spine.

When he finally pulled back, she felt dismayed and relieved in equal terms. He hadn’t even kissed her properly and she was wrecked. Ruined. She should leave now. Stick to the plan. Run.

She should kiss him for real.

Finally glancing over to him, she found his eyes watching her. He wore a shell-shocked expression that she knew mirrored her own. He bit at his lip and looked like he was searching for words to make sense of whatever lay between them.

There was so much to say.

There would never be enough time.

Not wanting him to get those words out, to talk them out of what they were about to do, she leaned in and swept her lips across his. It was a barely there wisp of a thing, but Ash didn’t hesitate to kiss her back. His mouth followed hers, drawing her slowly to him. She went, bringing her legs up beneath her, and cupped his chin. Their kiss deepened, her tongue sliding against his as she slipped into his lap, shifting her hands from his face to wind her arms around his neck.

Ash’s hands settled at her waist, his thumbs sweeping and circling along the fabric of her tunic. The slow movements left her wishing she’d worn something less sensible, wishing to feel his hands on her through something thinner. Wishing to feel him touch her. Lost in the feel of him, the taste him, as well as memories of him moving against her, she hadn’t noticed her own hands slide beneath is t-shirt until she was raking her nails up and down his back.

He broke their kiss and groaned, before pulling her up to stand with him. “You should follow me.”

The words were barely out of his mouth before he turned. She followed in the wake of his long strides, watching him jump down the narrow hatch. She climbed down the ladder face forward. He watched her descend, waiting until her foot hit the last step before crowding in and pressing her against the rails. Michael smiled as he kissed her again, losing herself in the familiar taste of him. He dragged his mouth from hers, turning his attention to her neck as his hands moved to grasp hers, holding them back against the rails as he rocked into her.

She let her head fall back, resting it against the ladder as he worked at the base of her throat. He sighed when the stiff fabric of her collar wouldn’t give to allow him to press further.

“Too many clothes,” he murmured.

Michael laughed and tugged her arms, silently asking him to release her wrists. He did and stepped back, watching her as she bent her leg and used her foot to push herself from the ladder. She reveled in the way his breath seemed to hitch, his whole chest shuddering as she crossed her arms in front of herself and tugged at the hem of her tunic. She pulled it over her head and dropped it to the floor, keeping her eyes locked to his as she did.

Left her in her bra and a pair of leggings, she warmed when he finally broke contact and raked his eyes over her. His eyes seemed to trail down her stomach and to her legs. She toed off her boots as his attention moved back up and then down her arms. She knew the moment he caught sight of her now bared wrist and the rope that wrapped around it. He stilled and seemed to hold his breath.

Michael had slipped open the bowline knot months ago. Tilly had helped her fashion a small, gold bracing to hold the ends together. To anyone else it would seem inconsequential, nothing more than an odd choice in bracelet.

To Ash though, he would know what it was. What it meant.

His eyes still caught on her wrist, Ash reached for her. She let him take her hand, standing stock still as he wrapped his fingers around it, slowly dragging them down until they hit the rope. He slid his thumb along the rough twine and slipped his middle finger between it and the skin of the underside of her wrist. She couldn’t tear her eyes from where his finger played along her skin. Time seemed to stop and everything around them faded. Everything except for the skittering heat of the pad of his finger on her skin, each brush echoing and thrumming through her in staccato.

His free hand caught her chin and tipped her head back, forcing her to look up at him. “You kept it.”

She nodded.

Something flared in his eyes, the gold flecks in his deep brown eyes catching on the low light of the cabin. Before she could put words to what it was, he dropped his hands to her waist and spun them around, walking her backwards a few steps. Her calves hit a low couch and she tumbled back into it. He fell with her, the two of them laughing as he pushed himself up and stared down at her. She touched his cheek, her thumb brushing at the way his mouth crinkled with his laughter. He was much too tall for the cramped space to be comfortable, but he didn’t seem to mind.

Michael smiled at him and he smiled back before lowering his mouth to her belly, kissing along the waistband of her leggings. She tensed when he bit at that particular stretch of skin at the top of her hip bone, trying to hold her breath before she dissolved into another fit of laughter.

“I love that.” He grinned up at her as he traced along the goosebumps he had raised on her skin. “The fact that you’re ticklish.”

She tried to school her face into her best impression of an imperious Vulcan and raised one eyebrow at him. “Why?”

“Because you’re still willing to show me that. And because it’s something no one else knows about you.” He shook his head and returned his attention to her leggings, prodding her to lift her hips as he slid his hands beneath the tight fabric. He stripped her of both them and her underwear as he went, sitting back on his knees in front of her once he dropped them to his side.

She bit back a sigh when his dragged his hands up her bare legs, spreading her open to him as he went. She had the errant thought that maybe she should even the score some, reach out and strip him of his shirt. She wanted the chance to run her fingers through the hair on his chest, to watch the flex of his muscle with each of his movements, but all thought was lost with the first touch of his tongue to her.

He took his time, long, savoring licks and teasing flicks of his tongue along every inch of her sensitive skin. Part of her wished she could say that she had forgotten how good he was at this, at pulling each moan from her lips, at driving a barrage of sensation along her limbs. But it would be a lie. Even at the worst between them, her brain had refused to let go of those memories.

Not sure what that might say about her, she shut her eyes and pushed away any thoughts besides those of the here and now. She tangled her hands in his over-long hair, tugging him close and begging him to finish it. Instead, he pulled away gently. She bit back a cry -- frustrated by both his having stopped and the way his breath played across her skin.

“Did you want something?”

She opened an eye and found him grinning at her, his tongue playing at the edge of his lip. Michael warred with the dual want to kick him and pull him back toward where she wanted him. Instead, she murmured his name and felt a tiny flicker of victory when his eyes went heavy-lidded and he gave a quiet groan.

If she thought him a man with purpose minutes ago, it was nothing on how he set himself to work now. She could barely focus as his mouth found her, his fingers joining in the onslaught. He worked them together in quiet insistence, drawing her body back to the edge with an ease she wouldn’t have thought possible. She reached behind herself, gripping at the top of the couch as her release finally washed over her, her arm tensing in an effort to keep herself from slipping off the narrow cushion.

When she finally collected herself and her breath, it was to find Ash resting his head on her thigh, one hand drawing slow, soothing circles on her other. He was still fully dressed, but his hair was a rumpled riot of tangles and curls. His mouth morphed into a grin as he caught her staring.

“Come here,” she whispered. She felt a flare of pride as his face went slack. She sat up and removed her bra before reaching for him, slipping her hands beneath his shirt and tugging it over his head. She made quick work of his belt and opened his pants, enjoying his deep draw of breath when her hand slid over his erection.

Using his distraction, she nudged him around, pushing until he was seated on the couch. Sliding into his lap, she captured his mouth in a searing kiss. When she finally pulled back, she reached down to grasp him, adjusting her hips to line him at her entrance. He gasped as she began to sink down on him, taking him slowly, waiting as her body to adjusted and stretched around him each torturous inch.

Finally, finally, he was fully seated within her and she looked down at him. His head was tipped back, resting on the edge of the couch behind him, his eyes steady on her face. He offered her a small smile and she arched against him, raising her hips just a fraction before settling back down again. Ash hummed and wrapped his hands around her hips, guiding her through another slow, shallow thrust.

She moved her hands to his shoulders, extending and stretching her fingers to allow just the palms of her hands to play over the soft skin there before taking her time to trail down his arms, following the languid pace he set with her. Ash bent forward and she leaned in, resting her forehead against his. She closed her eyes and matched his breathing, and when he finally covered her mouth with his, everything within her felt as though it were on fire, her pleasure gathering and settling at the base of her spine. She picked up their pace, thrusting harder, chasing the feeling that began to spread throughout her.

She felt his stuttering breath when he finally came and with another roll of her hips, pressing her clit against his pelvic bone, she followed him.

The cabin felt quiet around them as they both caught their breath. It was a peaceful sort of stillness, devoid of any of the awkwardness she had anticipated. Michael chose to take a moment and not question it, falling against Ash and taking comfort in the feel of his sweat-slicked skin against her own.

Michael squinted and took a quick glance around the room. The light filtering through the portholes running the length of the hull had taken on a deeper, more golden quality. She could feel Ash behind her, his chest rising and falling steadily against her back. She wondered how long they had lain there. Her arm ached from where she’d fallen asleep on it, but she felt more rested than she probably had right to given the narrow couch they were curled on.

Ash’s hand rested against her stomach. He was awake, his fingers curling and uncurling, the tips of them dragging in a slow, steady wave against her skin. It left Michael feeling light and comforted, and more than a little fuzzy around the edges. It was nice. Normal. She had missed this. Missed them.

And here she had once thought she would be the only reason they couldn’t have this.

She let out a deep breath. She was so tired of regret. Of fear.

Ash moved, adjusting to allow Michael the space to turn over. Once she settled back in, he brought his hand to her face, tracing along her jaw before cupping her cheek.

“Hey,” he whispered, leaning in, his nose a hair’s breadth her own.

Her eyes caught on his mouth. It was so familiar. She had loved those lips so much -- his smiles, the teasing smirks they could form, the way his teeth would snag on them when he looked at her just so. And yet her brain still stuttered and faltered on images of those same lips forming Klingon so fluently. How the voice she thought she knew so well deepened and turned gravely in a way she hadn’t been prepared for.

She reached up, pressing her thumb to his bottom lip, swiping along the length of it. Her thumbnail traced the edge. Michael braved the chance to glance up at him, her breath catching when her eyes locked on his.

Ash.

And that was about the sum of it. Whatever he had been through, and whatever he still needed to do, the man she had known was still clearly there in the depths of those clear brown eyes. As much as a part of her wanted the fact that he was as much Klingon as he was human to matter, to be a reason to shut him off from her, it didn’t and she couldn’t. This man here was still Ash.

She dropped her hand from his mouth to the top of his chest, tangling her fingers in the smattering of chest hair there.

“An isik for your thoughts?”

She smiled as his words brought her out of her thoughts and shook her head. He gave her a small one of his own in return. He looked almost shy. It brought her back to their first kiss. The two of them on the small couch in his quarters.

The more things change…

“Would you believe me if I told you they were all too scattered to make any sense?”

“I might.” His hand clasped around the one at his chest and he threaded his fingers with hers. “When are you expected back?”

“Rendezvous tomorrow afternoon.”

He didn’t miss a beat. “Stay the night.”

“I shouldn’t.”

He folded their joint fingers over, holding their hands tightly to him. “Stay. We should talk some more. I should talk some more.”

“Ash.”

“Michael, I was wrong about so much. I’d like the chance to tell you about some of it.” He let go and circled his hand around her wrist. Slowly, one of his fingers looped around the skin there, then drew the rope she wore between his thumb and forefinger. “I owe you that much.”

She nodded. She knew she shouldn’t. She should go, should stick to her plan. But a not insignificant, and selfish, part of her wanted to stay. Nothing they could say to one another would change the facts in front of them -- that she would return to Discovery tomorrow afternoon, that he was needed back on Qo'noS. That their futures still looked different, if not in the way she had anticipated.

“I’ll stay,” she whispered, snaking her hand around the back of his neck and pulling him toward her. “I’ll stay.”

+++

Tagging: @cuddlybitch, @maya-zapata (not quite what you had mentioned, but lives along the same themes I think), and @ashandalder (since I vaguely comment hijacked your own post to chat about this)

#ashburn #michael burnham x ash tyler #michael burnham #ash tyler #star trek discovery #star trek disco #my ff st dsc #ashburn ff

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sambethe · 6 years

Text

Ash & Tilly FF: Drinking Games

Summary: They meant to play cards, but then the drinks appeared. With the drinks came the goading, and somehow this has left Tilly on the receiving end of Ash's questionable matchmaking skills.

Words: 1900 | Rated: T | ao3

A/N: Apologies? Not really. Pretty much outright fluff friendship nonsense. I assume this is set somewhere between Lethe and Magic to Make the Sanest Man Go Mad, but don’t ask for more precision than that.

+++

“What about her?”

Tilly took a sip of her drink and turned her head in the direction Ash had nodded his chin. Screw subtly. The two of them had left subtlety behind after their first finished drink. At this point they, and their growing collection of empty glasses, were sprawled across a corner of the floor in the forward lounge, heads leant back against the wall and legs stretched out.

All they had planned for was a few rounds of cards, a chance for Tilly to practice her terrible, terrible bluff. Within the first couple of hands, though, the room had changed around them. Music had been added and someone had long ago dimmed the lights, adding in a soft accent of blues and purples to the mix. And then the drinks started appearing.

Tilly was hard-pressed to complain. The distraction from everything felt good. She felt good. The buzz in her head felt good. She just needed one more thing to feel really, really good.

Though that also might be her third drink talking.

She had no idea what she had even been drinking. That maybe should have been a question she asked when the first one was handed to her, but it was pretty. Most of what was in the glass was pale yellow, but at the center was a burst of bright orange that was slowly bleeding through the rest of the drink. It tasted sweet and made her smile. Plus it had one of those cute little paper umbrellas and a straw, so it couldn’t be that bad.

That was definitely some A+ sound logic, if she did say so herself.

With the lounge dark and bathed in an ethereal blue glow, when she squinted she could almost pretend she was somewhere besides Discovery. Shore leave -- somewhere exotic and beachy, somewhere she might be brave enough to talk someone into her bed.

Her eyes landed on Darcy Philips. Blond, long legs. She had a killer smile that Tilly adored. She was also, sadly, dating Seema Khan.

“The blonde?”

Ash shook his head. “No, the brunette. Black pants. Cream shirt. Nice rack.”

Tilly snorted. “Looks more off-white to me.”

He nudged the toe of her boot with his own. “Not even close to the point. Tell me what you think about her.”

She stuck her tongue at him and took another sip of her drink, chewing on her straw as she watched the woman talking to Darcy. She was short and her legs were slim. She had nice hips and an ass that was certainly worth writing home about.

If she wanted to give her mother a heart attack.

Come to think of it, she kind of, sort of wished she had the balls. The image of her face when she listened to the message would be worthy of a greeting card.

But just then the woman tilted her head to whisper something to Darcy and Tilly caught sight of her sharp jawline and aquiline nose from behind her hair. That was a profile she’d know anywhere.

“Cat Jordan. Totally pretty. And her hair is great. I wish my hair would do that. But she’s competitive and has kind of a mean streak. Sex with her would be like a terrible team sport -- too much scorekeeping and full of one-upmanship. It’d give me performance anxiety.” Tilly flicked the straw out of her way and knocked back the rest of her drink. “I’m looking for an orgasm, not a rundown of my many deficiencies. If I wanted that, I’d call my mother.”

Ash let out a sharp laugh and she elbowed him.

“Don’t laugh. I want to blow off steam, not give myself a complex. She’s the type who would grade you mid-oral and then give you another evaluation at the end that would serve nothing but to tell you about how she would, and did, do it better. Being in classes with her was a nightmare.”

Ash laughed again. It caused his whole face to go soft and the corners of his eyes to crinkle. She liked this version of him. Relaxed. Happy. His smile clearly radiating from his eyes as well as his mouth. It was the same smile that had half of Discovery’s crew tripping over themselves when they saw him.

When he caught his breath his expression turned calculating as he continued to watch Cat.

Tilly frowned and kicked at his ankle. “Don’t tell me that that intrigues you.”

“What?” he asked, blinking his eyes and schooling his face into an expression that tried to read as innocent, boyish charm. Tilly was tempted to kick him again, but that would just egg him on. “Maybe I like them bossy.”

Tilly choked and put her drink down before she spilled it. She wondered what he was like at the Academy. He had to have been a menace. Just that right combination of pretty and smart. Competitive but relaxed, both cool and earnest in equal turns. And so utterly unflappable. Tilly wondered if anything ever phased him.

She narrowed her eyes and shoved at Ash’s arm. “All right, all right. Enough about your predilections, boy wonder. We are supposed to be finding someone for me.” She shifted and leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder as she surveyed the room. This shouldn’t be that hard. She just wanted to get laid for the night, ignore everything else for a little while. Somebody here had to fit the bill.

“What about Rogers?”

Tilly’s eyes landed on where Charles Rogers stood across the room in a small group, swaying slightly to the music as one of his friends waved his arms to make some sort of apparently emphatic point. He had nice hair -- dark, thick. It was cut short in the back, but left a little long in the front. It looked tuggable. Too bad he had all the personality of a wet noodle.

“He pretty, but sooooo dull. He talks endlessly. About nothing. And cannot, for the life of him, read a room. And this is me saying that. Last week I had to make up a spore emergency to get him to stop talking long enough so that I could escape after he sat down to eat lunch with me. I could probably strip down naked and he still wouldn’t pay attention to me long enough to get the point. I don’t want to put that much work into getting laid.”

“Ok, definitely not Rogers then. That leaves my choices at zero for three so far. I might need you to help me out here if you want me to play wingman. What are you looking for?”

“Tonight or in general?” She waved her hand. “No, nevermind. Let’s stick with for tonight. Anything more than that will kill this buzz I’ve got going on and I want to enjoy it.”

“Stop stalling, Cadet.”

“I swear I’m not that picky,” she continued. “I just want someone fun who won’t be too weird about it all later.”

Ash wrapped his arm around her shoulder and planted a kiss on her temple. “Fair enough. So we are looking for someone relaxed and easygoing. Not too weird and not self-involved.”

“Maybe not too relaxed. I’d like to not have to do all the work.”

Ash laughed and shot her a mock frown. “Give me some credit here.”

“Let’s also add in cute. I’d like to like looking at them. Preferably while naked.”

He grinned and tipped his head back, drumming his fingers against his chin. “How about Mendoza then?”

Tilly followed to where Ash’s focus had landed on Jane Mendoza. She’d recently had her dark hair cut into a bob that flattered her neck and that had nearly driven Tilly to distraction with all sorts of thoughts what it’d be like to kiss her.

She hummed and Ash’s smile widened. “We have a winner?”

“Let’s not get too excited. I still have to go over and talk to her, and that would require me getting up off this floor.” She groaned and wiggled her toes. “Which may be a bit of its own challenge. So before I try to do that, what about you?”

“What about me?”

“The whole night can’t just be about getting me laid. What about you?”

Ash raised an eyebrow and Tilly frowned at him.

“Stop that,” she said, flicking at his eyebrow.

He knocked away her hand. “As you said, one of us would need to get off this floor and go talk to someone if there is any hope for either of us. I don’t know that I am inclined to move at the moment.”

Tilly sighed and eyed their empty glasses. She’d kill for someone to bring them another round. “True. But you, you wouldn’t need to do much talking.” She sat up and drew her legs in, then waved her hand vaguely in Ash’s direction. “You just need to smile and say something charming. It wouldn’t take much to convince any one of them to come back to your quarters.”

He raised his eyebrow at her again.

Pursing her lips, Tilly crossed her arms. “Come on. You know I’m right.”

“I think you greatly exaggerate my game.”

“Oh, please! You know I am right. Or are you avoiding this because Michael isn’t here and she’s the one you’d like to be... “ TIlly paused and tried to find the right word. “Talking to?”

“Where is she anyway?”

“Nice try at casual there, friend.”

Ash shrugged and gave her a crooked, half-smile.

“When I left our quarters she was doing some Vulcan meditation thing. She tried to explain it -- been hounding me to try it with her, but don’t ask me for more than that. I lost track.”

“Oh. I don’t see her socialize much.”

Tilly shrugged. “It takes some work -- getting her to be comfortable around you. I’m still working on it, to be honest. But it’s worth it, if you ask me. You are asking me, right?”

Ash turned away and looked out at the room, but he didn’t seem focused on anything or anyone in particular. A small smile played at his mouth and a twinge of jealousy spiked in Tilly’s gut. Not of Michael, or even Ash per say. He was pretty, and funny. And he was good at listening. She just wished someone would get that look when thinking about her.

“I might be asking,” Ash finally answered, still keeping his attention on the small crowd across the room.

“Might be, huh?”

“Might be.” He gave a small shrug. “What’s her story anyway?”

“Not mine to tell.”

He glanced back to her and gave her a nod. “Fair enough. So we agreed on Mendoza for you, right?”

Part of her toyed with the idea of pressing the Michael topic further, but decided to let it go. Three drinks in was probably not the best time for that conversation. “Yes,” she agreed.

“You know you are going to need to stand and walk over there, right?”

“I know.” But she still didn’t move.

“Do you need me to go over there for you?” Ash started to sit up and Tilly reached over and pushed him back down.

“Nope. I can do my own dirty work, thank you.” She stood and straightened out her uniform top. “Don’t think we’re done talking about you and Michael.”

Ash smiled and made a shooing motion in her direction. “Wouldn’t dare. Now go.”

“I mean it.”

“Uh huh. Go.”

“I’m going.”

“I see that.”

Tilly huffed and turned, making her ways towards Mendoza before she lost her nerve and grabbed another drink.

#ash tyler #sylvia tilly #star trek discovery #star trek disco #my ff st dsc

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