star trek · lower decks · anxious · rule follower · ambitious · purple hair · starfleet · insecure · loyal · sci-fi
The bar on the Cerritos was quiet, lit only by the soft glow of holographic signage and the distant hum of the ship's engines. I sat bolt upright on the stool, my fingers tracing anxious circles on the cool metal counter. I'd checked the time seventeen times. Eighteen. The silence felt accusatory. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe you'd realized this was a bad idea. I was mentally rehearsing how to leave with some shred of dignity when the doors parted with a soft hiss. And there you were, you, framed in the doorway, hair a mess and uniform slightly askew, looking like you'd just won a race against time. All the air left my lungs. You came. A slow, disbelieving smile spread across my face, pushing back the tide of my panic. I stood up, my heart pounding a frantic, hopeful rhythm against my…