Two months prior to their assignment to the Arondight, newly promoted Lieutenant Commanders Costa and Hawthorne were hand-picked to accompany Fleet Captain Lancaster for a special assignment aboard the Apollo. The Sheliak were up in arms about a Federation vessel that had drifted into their space and crashed just as Arcturus began a baryon sweep at Olympia Station and was taken out of action. Recently off of their success with the Farpoint Cnidarian mission, it was an obvious test to see if they were ready for bigger and better assignments: a perfect fit, given that there were two seemingly vacant positions on Apollo. Costa was sent to fill in at tactical, while Hawthorne assisted from science, pouring over the reams and reams of text that made up the Sheliak-Federation treaty and putting his linguistics background to use.

It was nerve-wracking. Beyond being on a new ship and trying to get used to serving on the bridge, Hawthorne had to try to integrate into a new social scene, learn the quirks of the Apollo’s actual captain, Sean Gaudain, and perform well enough to please the legendarily difficult Lancaster. The stress was a catalyst to bond further with Costa, though. And in the end, the mission was a success. 

Back at Olympia, Hawthorne was waiting outside of the fleet captain’s office for his performance review while Costa went first. The pilot emerged with a thousand-watt smile, and as soon as the doors to the office were closed, he hugged Hawthorne so tightly that he literally swept him off of his feet. 

“First Officer on the Arondight. It’s a frigate, but I’m a first officer!” Costa exclaimed.

“That’s amazing, Paulo. You’ve earned it,” Hawthorne replied. “I thought they were testing us for the Apollo?”

“Apparently, they’re assigning a whole bunch of ships out here,” Costa said with a shrug. “We’ll celebrate at dinner tonight. Break a leg,” he said, kissing him on the cheek before trotting away down the corridor.  

As Hawthorne watched Costa’s retreating back, he felt himself filled with an unusual sense of dread. He’d very much liked the idea of joining him on the Apollo. Part of what had made that mission work, like the one before it, was the way they complemented one another. He smoothed his uniform jacket down and entered the office. 

Lancaster was typing a message into his holographic terminal. “Sit,” he said, pointing to one of the seats in front of his desk. His brusque, no-nonsense approach was vaguely comforting, as Hawthorne always knew where he stood with him. “You did well on the Apollo and with the Cnidarians. You have a definite aptitude for communicating with the most alien forms of life we’ve encountered,” the fleet captain said, closing his terminal.

Not known for his copious praise, “definite aptitude” sounded like the highest compliment coming from Lancaster. Hawthorne’s face briefly flickered into a smile, but he made it go away to avoid provoking him somehow.

“Thank you. I appreciate that, sir,” Hawthorne replied, sitting ramrod straight in the chair.

“You were a candidate for a lot of positions, but I’d like to keep you on Arcturus in a senior role as First Contact Specialist,” Lancaster said matter-of-factly. “You’ll be front and center anytime we make contact with a new species.”

Hawthorne was stunned. “I’m grateful for your faith in me, sir,” he said, his heart racing at the idea of being separated from his budding relationship with Paulo Costa by an unknown span of lightyears. 

Lancaster sat back in his chair and gave Hawthorne a quizzical look as though he’d just noticed dirt on his face or the remains of his salad from lunch in his teeth. 

“Then why do you look like I just told you I shot your dog?” the fleet captain asked, blue eyes narrowing.

“I didn’t realize I was making a face, sir,” Hawthorne replied. “It’s an honor, truly. I know you don’t suffer fools, so I’m pleased to have made so much progress from that mission to Sentinel Omega,” he said, thinking back to the time Lancaster had torn him and Costa apart for a juvenile mistake on one of their first away missions serving on the Opportunity, years ago. 

“But?”

“But, respectfully, I owe a large degree of that progression to my competitive behavior with Paulo—Lieutenant Commander Costa,” Hawthorne admitted. “I believe my effectiveness would be reduced if I were no longer serving with him. He mentioned in the corridor that he’s been assigned to the Arondight.”

“That’s exactly the opposite of what you told the first officer a few months ago when I assigned the two of you to work together, wasn’t it?” Lancaster asked. He tapped his fingers on the desktop idly for a moment. “I think you both probably know it was my intent to put you both on the Apollo, but the circumstances have changed.”

“Then why split us up now… respectfully… sir…,” Hawthorne said, quickly tamping down a flash of anger.

“It’s my obligation as your commanding officer to support your career advancement. I have to give everyone under my command the best shot possible,” Lancaster replied with uncharacteristic patience. “Now, are you just complaining, or do you have a solution-oriented approach you’d like to propose?” he added a little more sharply.

“I’m a fully-trained science officer with bridge qualifications, sir. Put me on the Arondight,” Hawthorne replied, holding his head up high. 

“You love him, don’t you?” Lancaster asked, shocking Hawthorne with his powers of observation.

“Well, I… Yes. Yes, I do. I haven’t told anyone, least of all him,” Hawthorne said. It began as hesitation, but merely being asked the question made his feelings for Costa come into crystal clarity. The revelation and the admission scared him, as that was a milestone he’d yet to cross in his twenty-eight years of life. He blushed. “I apologize, sir. My reaction has been completely unprofessional.”

Lancaster seemed unfazed and unmoved by the hasty apology at first, but he stood up from his seat. Thinking the meeting was over, Hawthorne started to rise as well, but the captain beckoned him to sit back down, as he came to the other side of the desk, leaning back against it as he surveyed Hawthorne. The predictive scripts in Hawthorne’s mind had exhausted all further possibilities for where the conversation with the fleet captain could go. He just wanted out of that room, to go somewhere well-insulated that he could scream about fully losing sight of his place with an officer that he respected deeply.

“Don’t apologize for chasing the things you want in life, Tristan,” Lancaster said, showing a side of himself that Hawthorne had sometimes imagined but had never dared to dream of seeing. Given how warm and friendly his husband was, he knew it had to be there somewhere, but surely that is something that would remain well-hidden from the likes of him. “I’m aware you’re… close… with Luca, yes?”

Hawthorne blushed; he, of course, knew of the flexibility in the Lancaster-Sheppard marriage through seeing Sheppard a few (dozen) times, but he’d never dreamed that he’d be in a situation where he’d have to address that. 

“Sir, yes, I—,” he stammered.

“What did I just say about apologizing?” Lancaster asked, rolling his eyes. “I would never, never bring anything either of you do or have done up in a professional setting. It’s one of our rules. I’m only mentioning him because I’m about to break a different rule to give you some advice.”

The captain paused, averting his eyes for a moment. Hawthorne could tell that the older man was deeply uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had taken, and he couldn’t understand why he hadn’t been kicked out yet.

“We don’t discuss the dynamic of our relationship with others beyond our definitions and rules for our versions for polyamory. We don’t talk about our own history beyond little details like how we met. So, something you aren’t supposed to know is that the biggest fight we’ve ever had came from me turning down command of the San Francisco four years ago.”

“I had no idea. Why would you do that?”

“Why would you turn down a role on my senior staff?” Lancaster countered. 

“Fair point.”

“At the time, it would have been the right career move for me. Luca had just been accepted for an accelerated medical residency back on Earth, so I declined to take command. He was furious that I’d prioritized him over myself, but I wasn’t about to go into deep space and leave him behind.”

“If I may, it seems like it worked out,” Hawthorne offered.

That much was beyond debate: before 40, Michael Lancaster was in command of one of the largest and most advanced starships in the Federation with an entire squadron at his back. He also had a gorgeous, successful, loving husband with whom he was in a reportedly very healthy relationship. Neither his career nor his marriage had suffered from his decision.

“It didn’t just work out, though. That’s the lesson I am trying to get to,” Lancaster corrected. “I had to convince him that there was no way I could have been successful on that ship without him and that a temporary setback in my career was worth avoiding a massive one in his.”

The younger man opened his mouth to try to synthesize some of that, but Lancaster held up his hand.

“My advice is that if you really love Paulo Costa, you should chase after him. But if he loves you back and finds out you passed up an opportunity for the sake of his career, you’re going to have a fight on your hands,” Lancaster summarized. “He’s a pilot. There’s no room for him to advance on Arcturus, and I can’t responsibly give him the option to stay.”

“But that’s not fair. Why can’t we just stay where we are if that’s what we decide works best for us?” Hawthorne asked before tacking on a hasty, “Sir.”

“Careful,” Lancaster warned. “You’re overqualified to serve on the Arondight, but it’s an upward movement in a time when Starfleet has severe personnel shortages. He needs to be on the Arondight for his own growth and for Starfleet.”

Hawthorne swallowed. “So, I have a choice, and Paulo doesn’t,” he said. “And if I give up a role I’m well-suited for, he’ll either be pleased, or he’ll have trouble forgiving me, both of which are bad options.”

“My situation isn’t an exact match for yours. We’d been together for a lot longer—I’m assuming, given your change in demeanor since that away mission—but my advice to you is to follow your feelings. You just can’t keep it a secret from him,” the captain noted. 

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Hawthorne asked.

“I don’t think that ‘nice’ is the right word,” Lancaster chided. “I guess you could say that I’m a romantic at heart. I could tell you two had an attraction from the early days, so it seems like a shame not to let you see how it might play out.”

“I appreciate that, sir. Though it feels rather like you’ve just handed me a bomb,” Hawthorne said. His mind was made up. Costa was worth rolling the dice on. Whatever happened, he knew that it would end in fireworks. For once in his life, he was going to pick the riskier road. “I’ll take the posting on the Arondight,” he said.

Lancaster reached behind himself to grab a PADD, which he handed to him. It already had the transfer orders written up for Arondight.

“You planned this?” Hawthorne asked, fully shocked. 

“I wanted to see if you would push back. It was a sincere offer to have you on my senior staff, though,” the captain said with a shrug. “Part of leadership is knowing when to say no to something. You’ve proven you can do that.”

Shaking his head, Hawthorne laughed. “That is one of the most manipulative things I’ve ever heard. With all due respect.”

“Another part of leadership is knowing when to manipulate,” Lancaster said, smirking a little before moving back behind his desk. “It goes without saying that if you reveal to anyone that I gave you special treatment, no one will ever find your body. Clear?”

“Crystal, sir,” Hawthorne said, having no doubt that the threat was real—he thought that death was probably out of the realm of possibility, but banishment to a research asteroid was highly likely. “I appreciate the mentorship. Truly.”

“Good. Get out,” Lancaster said before pulling up his display again, though Hawthorne thought he saw a smile.

“Oh, um… I’m not your spy or something now, right? Or years down the road, I’ll get an untraceable phaser in the mail with a note…?” Hawthorne said, stopping in his tracks.

“Do I look like an Orion to you?” Lancaster quipped. “The favor you can do for me is to not screw this up.”

“Got it,” Hawthorne said, before leaving the office.

Hawthorne was thankful that Costa hadn’t waited for him outside Lancaster’s office because he needed a moment to bring himself together. He’d just made a massive life choice in the midst of getting romantic advice from Michael Lancaster, of all people. It wasn’t a day he’d soon forget.

Back in the present, Tristan Hawthorne was pinned down by Paulo Costa’s muscular frame with his legs wrapped around his athletic waist in the center of the other man’s bed, unmade from the morning when they’d been engaged in a very similar activity. Fresh off of the realization that Costa loved him, Hawthorne had stopped their intimacy from going any further before coming clean about how the two of them ended up serving together. Lancaster’s warning was clear: if Costa loved him, he might see declining an important role on the fleet captain’s staff in favor of taking a lesser job on a smaller ship as something of a betrayal.

The look on Costa’s face was one of pain and fear, and Hawthorne’s heart was aching at the thought of what scenarios might be running through his brain. At the best of times, he raced to conclusions. At the worst of them, he had trouble shutting his mouth entirely.

“If this is about sleeping with Cooper, I already know. I don’t mind,” Costa blurted.

“First of all, how do you know that? Second, that was before we were together,” Hawthorne said. 

He saw Costa starting to explain but then realized it wasn’t important. Cooper Robinson probably told him all about their dating history, anyway. He put his hand over Costa’s mouth to stop him from continuing to blurt out theories.

“Paulo, I need you to be good and listen, please,” Hawthorne said, slipping briefly into an upper-class nanny hologram mode of communication. “I didn’t cheat on you. I’m not breaking up with you. Or any of the other things you’re thinking. So when I take my hand off your mouth, can you please just let me say my part?”

Costa nodded and gave a muffled “yes.”

“Good,” Hawthorne said before unmuzzling him. “Fleet Captain Lancaster offered me a role as his first contact specialist. I would have been a senior officer on Arcturus. I turned it down because I love you. I love you a lot. I probably always have. And I wanted to be here, with you,” he said, letting out a long sigh of relief.

Costa was uncharacteristically speechless for several excruciatingly long moments.

“Baby,” he breathed, finally. “Why’d you keep that a secret from me?”

“I was afraid I’d lose you.”

“Here I was thinking I’d spooked you by being too honest,” Costa noted.

“Spook me? I’m not a horse,” Hawthorne chided, laughing as he wiped away a tear.

“If this were a better moment, I’d make a joke about that,” Costa teased. He leaned down to kiss Hawthorne deeply. “Thank you for being honest right back.”

“I-I owed it to you,” Hawthorne said. “But how do you feel about it?”

Before Costa could reply, the yellow alert klaxon sounded. Moments later the ship rocked, and the klaxon changed tone while the red alert lights came on.

“Red alert. Senior officers to the bridge,” Lieutenant Solomon ordered from the bridge.

Hawthorne and Costa quickly disentangled themselves from one another and pulled on spare uniforms from the closet. The computer had recognized their sleeping patterns and provided one in each man’s size and departmental color. Before they could leave the bedroom, Costa grabbed Hawthorne’s hand and pulled him in for another kiss.

“Whatever happens, I love you, Tristan. What you said is not a deal-breaker,” Costa said. “But when we’re out of danger, we’re gonna have a talk, and I reserve the right to be a little pissed off. Sound good?”

“Acceptable,” Hawthorne agreed, though that came out as more of a squeak than the nonchalant baritone he’d meant it to be in. Relieved that he’d come clean and not ruined his love life in the process, Hawthorne could now turn his attention towards the latest turn in the path that the day had decided to throw at him. After the short ride up to the bridge, all he could say at the sight of the image on the viewscreen was, “Oh, my god.”