For the second time in two weeks, the captains of the Manticore and the Resolute found themselves on a starbase. This time it was Starbase 93 and both of them felt a little pulled from pillar to post after finishing up their previous patrol and heading straight to SB93. 

“I hate transfers,” RJ grumbled as they sat waiting in their new bosses office, waiting for her to arrive. She wasn’t even here, which gave him room to breathe, even if her yeoman, a tall, dangerous looking officer who looked more like he was ready to fold the paperwork in front of him into a deadly weapon rather than file it, was glaring at them.

“Why do you hate transfers?” a deep voice asked. 

He slid a glance over to Mason, who somehow managed to look completely comfortable in the chair next to him, and shrugged. “I like to get to know people. I liked Anderson.”

“Yeah,” Mason snorted. “That much was obvious, as was the fact you’d have liked to get to know him a lot better.”

“Hey! You were the one who wanted me to flirt with him and distract him because you wanted more guns,” he shot back, trying at the same time to work out if Mason’s deep voice held any jealousy. 

He couldn’t figure the guy out, not at all. RJ had flirted with him, to his face, and nothing. Not so much as a growl. He’d flirted with other people, right in front of him, and nothing other than maybe an eyeroll. He’d have normally left it at that, but every so often there was a look, or a wink… and then he was back to square one, with no inkling on what went on in the big, handsome captain’s head. 

“You were the one who pushed for a date.”  

There. There it was. A slight hint, maybe. 

RJ grinned and leaned on the arm of his chair, rubbing the stubble on his chin as he looked at Mason. “Well, if you recall, that was a drinks date. I asked you for dinner. A date you agreed to and that you’re now avoiding.”

“Avoiding?” Mason lifted an eyebrow. “You mean, thanks to this little transfer that meant we had to punch a three week patrol into two?”

Huh. Yeah. The big guy had a point. He sat back in his chair. “Your cousin’s son managed to get over for dinner with his dad.”

Mason didn’t answer that, his attention claimed by the woman who walked through the office. Captain Dal Jayce. Their Task Force Executive officer, and their new boss. 

She was petite, tiny compared to him and definitely compared to Mason, with silver-blonde hair pulled back into a neat pleat and big blue eyes that could melt a man’s soul. 

He couldn’t see them but he knew what they looked like, sliding down in his seat a little and leaning back so he was partially concealed by Mason’s bulk. 

“Just give me a moment, gentlemen, and I’ll be right with you,” she said, barely casting them a glance as her bulldog of a yeoman handed her a padd before she walked into her office. 

“Shiiiiiit,” he breathed, which earned him a frown from Mason.

“What’s the matter with you?” 

“Can you do this meeting without me?” he asked. “As the squadron commanding officer, I think you should.”

Mason’s eyebrow almost came to blows with his hairline. 

“And why should I do that? It’s important that we meet the higher-up’s, gives them a sense of perspective when they send us out onto the front line.”

“No, I’m serious,” RJ looked at the door to the captain’s office like it was the portal to his own execution. Dal Jayce. Captain Dal Jayce. Shit. He hadn’t even known her name. “If I go in there, we’re screwed before we start. Screwed being the operative word.” 

Mason sighed, rolling his eyes. “Is there anyone in the fleet you haven’t slept with?”

RJ shot him a grin, but it was forced. “Only the ones I actually want to sleep with.” 

“Okay, this is what we’re going to do,” Mason rumbled. “We’re going to go in there and you are. Not. Going. To. Flirt. Not one wink, one grin. Nothing. You are going to be the very image of innocence. Understand me?”

“This is such a fucking bad idea,” he grumbled but nodded. “She’s going to give us the worst fucking patrol routes out there. Or permanent latrine duty.”

“We’re starship captains,” Mason reminded him. “Unless she rescinds both our commands and busts us down to ensigns, that’s not going to happen. And she’s not going to do that. After…” he inclined his head. “After recent events, Starfleet needs all the captains and crew it can get. Even you.”

RJ gasped, clapping a hand over the center of his chest dramatically. “That was totally bitchy—”

“The captain will see you now,” the yeoman broke into their conversation. 

The furniture creaked in relief as Mason levered his big frame out of it. Looking down at RJ, he winked, saying in an undertone. “Innocent. Remember?”