The soft amber glow of the overhead lighting bathed the shared quarters of Captain Duncan and Commander Court in warmth, reflecting gently off polished surfaces and the half-cleared dining table. The remains of the evening’s meal still lingered in the air, rich and carefully prepared, a reminder that this had not come from a replicator.

Court’s work. And unmistakably so.

Now, the table had shifted from dining to something more relaxed. Plates had been cleared away, replaced by glasses of Vulcan brandy, each one catching the light with a slow, golden shimmer. The drink lingered on Duncan’s palate, smooth and complex, its warmth settling steadily in his chest.

He leaned back slightly in his chair, one arm resting along the backrest, his gaze drifting across the gathered faces of his senior staff. They looked comfortable. That was new. It was still strange to see. Forty-one days ago, this had been a room full of strangers. Now there was ease, laughter, the quiet hum of people beginning to understand one another. None of them was in uniform, tonight they had dressed casually to enjoy one another’s company to celebrate First Contact Day. There had been a gathering of some of the crew in the ship’s main lounge area, but nothing big. It didn’t feel right, especially after the original Whirlwind crew were still mourning the loss of so many former colleagues. With many of the crew being Vulcan, Duncan felt it was best not to push anything that could cause offence or disrespect. Instead, he just wanted everyone to be together at some point. Glancing at his senior staff before him, it started to feel like his dreams for the Whirlwind were coming true.

They were becoming a crew. His crew.

Doctor Dorin lifted her glass first. “Captain, I must say, that was an exceptional meal.”

Duncan didn’t miss the opening. “You’re thanking the wrong person, Doctor,” he said, glancing across the table. “That was all Tobias.”

A few heads turned toward the first officer. Court stood near the replicator alcove, sleeves rolled neatly, posture relaxed in a way Duncan knew was entirely deliberate. He caught Duncan’s eye for just a moment, one corner of his mouth lifting in a quiet, knowing smirk.

There was a pause. Then, almost instinctively, glasses were raised.

“To the chef,” Fenton said.

“Hear, hear,” Bollwyn added, lifting his glass slightly higher than the others, his eyes flicking across the table.

Court inclined his head, accepting the moment. “I’ll take the compliment. Don’t expect a repeat performance every week, though.”

Duncan let out a quiet breath of amusement, lifting his own glass toward him in silent agreement before taking another sip.

Hunsen spoke next. “Not only First Contact Day,” he said, “but forty-one days since you took command.”

Duncan leaned back slightly. “Forty-one, is it? Feels shorter.”

Kimas shook her head. “Honestly, sir, it feels longer. In a good way.”

“Agreed,” Horin added. “It feels we are established.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Fenton said. “Feels like we’ve skipped the awkward phase and gone straight to functioning.”

“Some of us are functioning very well together,” Bollwyn added lightly, his tone smooth, almost too casual.

Duncan caught the glance that followed.

Fenton did too.

Their eyes met for a fraction of a second.

Fenton’s expression tightened, a warning.

Bollwyn’s lips curved faintly around the rim of his glass before he took another sip, entirely unfazed.

Across the table, Kimas smiled. “I think it’s been good for all of us. We should do this more often. Proper dinners. Not just duty shifts and briefings.”

“I would support that,” Horin said, placing her glass down carefully. She exchanged a look with Hunsen. “Though we should probably be going.”

Hunsen gave Duncan an apologetic shrug. “Sorry, Max. The babysitter’s only programmed to watch Eddim until twenty-two hundred.”

Duncan waved it off. “You’re excused. Go before it develops opinions and files a report.”

A ripple of quiet laughter followed.

Court stepped forward slightly, resting a hand lightly against the back of Duncan’s chair as he spoke. “How’s Eddim settling into nursery?”

Horin’s expression softened noticeably. “Better than we expected. He enjoys it.”

“He’s already made friends,” Hunsen added, a hint of pride slipping through. “Barely notices when we leave.”

“That’s a very good sign,” Court said, a small, genuine smile forming.

“It is,” Horin agreed. “He’s happy.”

Duncan glanced briefly toward Court, catching the warmth in his tone. It lingered for a moment longer than the conversation required, and Duncan found himself returning the look with a faint, quiet smirk before shifting his attention back to the table.

“Then definitely go,” Duncan said. “No point testing how long your babysitter’s algorithms will be analysing your parenting techniques.”

Hunsen chuckled as he stood. “Thank you.”

Horin and Hunsen both offered their thanks again before making their way out.

Dorin finished her brandy and looked toward Salazar. “We should be going as well,” she said. “Ensign Velex’bran is seeing me first thing in the morning about his first budding.”

Salazar, who had remained mostly quiet throughout the evening, gave a small nod. “Wouldn’t want to miss that.”
She rose smoothly, offering a respectful nod toward Duncan and Court. “Thank you for the evening.”

“Any time,” Duncan replied.

The pair departed together.

That left three.

Fenton shifted in his seat, his grip tightening briefly around his glass before he set it down. “We should probably head out as well.”

Kimas stretched lightly. “I’m up early tomorrow. I’ve got training sessions with the new starfighter pilots. Commander Rosle wants me to ensure they work closely with other pilots.”

Bollwyn leaned forward, resting his forearms casually on the table, his attention settling squarely on Fenton.

“Fancy a drink at the Rip Current?” he asked, tone easy, but deliberate.

Duncan noticed it immediately. The timing. The look. The intent behind it. Was there something going on between his chief science officer and chief operations officer? Wasn’t Fenton already in a relationship with Kimas? He shook it off, he didn’t want to know, and he hoped he was reading too much into it.

Fenton hesitated, just for a fraction of a second, before glancing toward Kimas.

She waved a hand dismissively, smiling. “Go on. Have your man date. I’ll see you both in the morning.”
Bollwyn coughed suddenly into his hand, clearly caught off guard.

Fenton forced a tight smile. “Right. Yes. Just one.”

“Of course,” Bollwyn said smoothly, rising to his feet, his composure already recovered.

Kimas stood as well, entirely at ease. “Don’t stay up too late. Some of us have actual work to do. Don’t wake me up when you come in.”

Fenton let out a short breath that might have been a laugh as the three of them made their way out together. “I’ll stay at mine tonight, so I don’t disturb you,” Fenton said towards Kimas.

Kimas just nodded as the doors slid shut behind them, and silence settled over the quarters once more. It was softer now, almost intimate in its own way.

Duncan remained where he was for a moment, his gaze drifting across the empty chairs, the half-finished glasses, the quiet aftermath of something that had felt good.

He lifted his glass of Vulcan brandy, studying the amber liquid as it caught the light.

Forty-one days.

It felt longer in all the right ways.

And for once, that didn’t concern him.

He glanced toward Court, still standing nearby. “Well,” Duncan said quietly, a faint smirk returning, “I think your reputation as a chef is now firmly established.”

“I’ve already had one career change, I’m not planning another!” Court said as he picked up the last remnants of cutlery and dirty dishes to place them in the replicator for recycling.

After a smirk at his husband’s comment, and then without hesitation, Duncan set his glass down and immediately helped his husband with the tidying-up effort. As he passed him a stack of plates and bowls, Duncan looked back around their quarters. It was scary how well Gray and his engineers had rebuilt the ship so quickly and how they had made these quarters almost the same as the ones Duncan and Court had back on the Odyssey.

“You look lost in your thoughts there, something on your mind?” Court asked after noticing his husband spacing out.

Duncan shook his head immediately. “It’s just weird, isn’t it, like what Kimas said earlier, it feels we’ve been here on the Whirlwind much longer than a month.”

Court considered the notion for a moment. He shrugged. “I suppose.” He looked at his husband with more intent as he placed the last dish away and hit the recycle programme button. “Are you regretting leaving the Odyssey?”

Duncan had picked up his glass of brandy and shook his head as he raised the glass to his lips. He took a quick sip and spoke without hesitation. “No. Not for a second.”

“Good, me too,” Court said as he walked closer to his husband and placed his hands on Duncan’s hips. “It’s been a nice new challenge to keep us on our toes.”

Court stepped closer, his hands settling naturally at Duncan’s hips, grounding him there. “A new challenge,” he murmured, voice lowering slightly, “to keep us on our toes.”

He leaned in, close enough that Duncan felt the warmth of his breath before the words followed. “Though, Captain Max Duncan, I’d much rather get you off them and do things to you that a first officer shouldn’t do with their captain!”

Duncan let out a quiet chuckle, setting his glass aside as his hands rose to rest around Court’s neck, drawing him in. “As long as we’re not violating the Prime Directive,” he murmured, a faint smile tugging at his lips, “I think we’ll survive.”

Court didn’t respond with words. He didn’t need to. Duncan felt it in the way Court’s fingers tightened slightly at his waist, in the familiarity of the closeness, in the quiet certainty between them. Their foreheads brushed first.
Then Duncan turned just enough to press a slow kiss along Court’s jaw, lingering there. Court exhaled softly, his composure slipping just a fraction. That was all it took. The space between them disappeared.

Hands moved, not hurried, but certain. Duncan felt the fabric of his shirt loosen under Court’s touch, the warmth of skin replacing it moments later. He didn’t resist, didn’t think to.

Instead, he returned it. Fingers tracing. Pulling. Familiar. Court gave a quiet, breathless sound as Duncan’s lips found his neck again, and that was enough to tip the balance.

With a gentle push, Court guided him backwards, out of the kitchen space and toward the living area. Duncan barely registered the distance before the back of his legs met the sofa, and he dropped onto it, Court following with him. They both laughed softly at the clumsy landing, the sound brief but genuine.

Then it faded and was replaced again by something quieter. Closer.

Duncan reached for him immediately, hands firm, pulling him back in as their lips met again, slower this time, more deliberate.

No urgency and no rush.

Duncan didn’t let go. His hands remained on Court’s back, holding him close as the moment settled into something quieter and closer between them. The urgency from before faded, replaced by something steadier, more familiar. Something they hadn’t had the time for since stepping aboard the Whirlwind.

Court shifted slightly, easing them both into a more comfortable position against the sofa, one hand still resting against Duncan’s chest, feeling the rhythm there begin to slow.

Duncan tilted his head, brushing another slow kiss along Court’s jaw, then his neck, lingering just enough to draw a quiet response from him. Court leaned into it, eyes closing briefly, letting himself be pulled fully into the moment.

For a while, nothing else existed. No ship. No command. No expectations. Just the quiet closeness of being together again.

Duncan’s fingers traced slowly through Court’s hair. It was familiar, and it felt like a matter of relearning something he already knew by heart. Court responded in kind, his touch steady, grounding, anchoring Duncan in a way nothing else quite could.

They moved together easily, instinctively, the kind of closeness that came from a long time of knowing one another rather than brief moments. Every touch, every shift, carried that same certainty between them.

Time passed without either of them noticing as they continued to just be together on their sofa. Eventually, the low hum of the ship returned, creeping back into Duncan’s awareness, but it no longer felt intrusive. It was just distant and manageable. Court’s forehead rested lightly against his again, both of them still, breathing evenly now, neither quite ready to pull away.

Then the sharp chime of the intercom cut cleanly through the room.

Duncan exhaled softly, his eyes closing for just a brief second before he let his head fall back against the cushions. Reality had found them again. He shifted slightly beneath Court, one hand lifting reluctantly from where it had settled.

“Bridge to Captain Duncan.”

Court let out a quiet, long-suffering sigh as he reached for Duncan’s discarded shirt from the floor. He retrieved the combadge clipped to it and pressed it into Duncan’s hand.

Duncan tapped it. “Go ahead.”

“Sorry to disturb you so late, sir, but you have an incoming call from the Themis.”

They dressed quickly, movements efficient but just a touch rushed, the moment between them already slipping away. Duncan told the bridge officer to route the call through. If Cambil was calling this late, it wouldn’t be trivial. The Themis was with the Astra and Ithaca at a nearby Talaxian mining colony. That alone made Duncan’s instincts sharpen.

A holographic screen flickered to life against the nearby wall.

It wasn’t Cambil.

It was Jordan, their eldest.

He was shirtless, his torso covered in glitter and luminous paint, and he was holding a bottle of Yridian ale as if it were a lifeline.

“DAAAADS!” Jordan yelled, far too loudly, the word stretching and slurring at the edges as he leaned far too close to the camera on the PADD he was using.

Duncan and Court exchanged a look.

No words needed.

Definitely drunk.

Why on Earth was their eldest drunk calling them at this hour? They looked back at their intoxicated son.

“Jordan, this is an unexpected call. Is everything okay?” Duncan asked.

“We’re— we’re on the Themis, right,” Jordan said, nodding enthusiastically at nothing in particular. “Celebrating. Big night. Lieutenant Stellan’s, like, a proper doctor now. Proper proper. So we’re celebrating properly.”

Duncan felt the corner of his mouth twitch despite himself.

First time.

Duncan heard his husband chuckle somewhat at the state their son was in. In all fairness, Duncan was amused by it all as well. Jordan (and William) had both been good kids before joining Starfleet, after they were rescued and adopted. Never once had they sneaked out with friends to get drunk and been caught.

“Well, we’re pleased to hear that. Pass on our congratulations,” Duncan replied, not sure where to go with this. “Was there a reason why you called us?”

Jordan nodded as he drank more of his drink. “Yes!” he slurred. “I wanted you both to know you’re going to be grandparents!”

Duncan blinked.

Court didn’t.

“Grandparents?” Court now echoed back; the concern in his tone was evident, and Duncan shared it with him.

“Yeah!” Jordan replied, far too loudly. “Alf and I ‘ave been chatting tonight and we wanna be dads—oh my god, here he comes now! My sexxxy husband-to-be!”

He suddenly lurched sideways, dragging Alfie into the camera’s view with far more force than necessary. Alfie stumbled into frame, laughing, equally bare-chested and covered in paint and glitter, his hair a chaotic mess.

Jordan immediately pulled him into a messy, overenthusiastic kiss, completely forgetting the call was still active.

“Look, look, Alfie,” Jordan said, slightly off balance as he turned him toward the screen, “it’s my dads, on the Whirlwind!”

Alfie turned toward the screen, blinking once as if trying to focus. A slow grin spread across his face. “Oh my god, it’s my bonus dad and my favourite godfather!”

“I’m your only godfather, Alfie,” Court reminded him.

Duncan didn’t even try to hide the faint smirk.

“Totally,” Alfie said, nodding far too seriously. “That’s why you’re my favourite.” He hiccupped immediately after.

Duncan raised a hand slightly, like he could physically slow the conversation. “Let’s go back. Grandparents?”

“Oh yeah!” Jordan said excitedly. “We want kids, so we’re gonna get pregnant, but I didn’t want to do the deed without letting you know first!” He looked at Alfie, who had his arm around his shoulder. “God, you’re sooooo sexy! I love you so much, put a baby or two in me!”

Alfie nodded as he looked at his fiancé, “Totally, babe, let’s make some babies! We should call my dad and mom and tell them what we’re planning as well!”

“Yes, that’s a great idea!” Jordan agreed.

Before either of them could say anything else, William stumbled into frame, barely dressed, glitter everywhere, clearly mid-conversation with someone off-screen. “—no, I’m telling you…oh…”

He froze as he noticed the call. “Oh my god, guys, you’ve got dad and dad! Soooo cooooool!” He slurred. “Hey Prime Elders! Did you hear, I’m going to be an uncle and you’re going to be grand-daddies!”

Duncan looked at his husband, and both of them chuckled at the state of their sons.

Court replied to his other son. “Hey Will, seems like you are all having a good night!”

“Hell, yeah, we’re celebrating First Contact Day, Kit becoming a doctor, and now me becoming an uncle! It’s all coooool!”

Behind him, Jordan and Alfie had already resumed their enthusiastic, completely uncoordinated attempt at kissing, hands everywhere, balance questionable at best.

Duncan sighed at the image before them. He closed his eyes briefly. There were some things no amount of command training prepared you for. “Okay, well, if there’s nothing else, we’re going to go. Enjoy the rest of your night!”

William turned around, saw his brother and fiancé all over one another, looked back, and rolled his eyes. “They’re always doing that! I’m going to go find Athena and see if we can forge a pizza. I’m sure she had a replicator in her handbag! See you both soon, love you, byeeee!”

Neither Duncan nor Court had the time to say goodbye as William abruptly closed the channel.

“Were we ever that bad when we started dating?” Court asked his husband.

Duncan looked at his husband. “Are you for real? We were never that drunk to call anyone, but we were that madly in love we couldn’t keep our hands to ourselves.”

Court turned to his husband, and a smirk appeared across his face. “Talking of which, shall we pick up from where we left off?”

“Depends, are you going to try and put a baby in me, as our son thinks is going to happen with his husband-to-be?” Duncan grinned back as he got closer to Court.

“Do you want me to—” Court didn’t get a chance to finish the sentence.

The combadge chirped again.

Both of them froze.

“Bridge to Captain Duncan.”

Both men sighed heavily before Duncan tapped his combadge. If it were one of their sons calling, he would certainly be ignoring it.

“Go ahead.”

“Sorry to disturb again, sir, but you and Commander Court are needed on the bridge. We’re detecting two Odysseys and two Orions. We’ve run diagnostics, and it’s not a sensor glitch. The Destiny has confirmed detecting them as well.”

Duncan frowned at the report, the confusion clear on his face and mirrored by his husband. “Understood. We’re on our way.” He tapped his combadge to close the channel. “Duty calls, I’m afraid.”

“Let’s go,” Court said, holding out his hand.

Duncan took it, and together they moved toward the door. Just before stepping out, Duncan paused and glanced back at him.

“Remind me to call Bexa and Niro,” he said, “and have them revoke our sons’ access to the communications array.”

Court didn’t miss a beat. “Absolutely, babe.”