NEW "Not Good, Not Good At All" 1/2 (TNG, P/C) [PG-13]
TrexPhile
AUTHOR: TrexPhile (trxp...@mindspring.com)
PART: 1/2
SERIES: TNG
CODES: P/C with some R/T thrown in
RATING: PG-13
SUMMARY: Riker and Troi are getting married.
DISCLAIMER: Paramount's characters, not mine, alas.
Author's notes at the end.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
NOT GOOD, NOT GOOD AT ALL
by TrexPhile
March 2002
"Naked?" The cup of Earl Grey stopped part way to his lips.
"Yes, sir. You knew that, didn't you?"
Picard set the cup down askew on the saucer, sloshing the hot liquid. He
regarded his first officer with what he hoped was a passive expression, one
that wouldn't betray the sudden nauseous quiver in his stomach.
----
"Naked?" The tricorder started slipping from her fingers.
"Well, yes. You knew that, didn't you?"
Fingers fumbling, Beverly managed to catch the newly configured tricorder
before it dropped to her office floor. She avoided the counselor's
questioning gaze and placed the device on the shelf, her throat suddenly
quite dry and heart thudding.
----
"I assumed," Riker continued, "that you were familiar with Betazoid wedding
tradition."
Jean-Luc cleared his throat and managed to set his cup down in the center
of the saucer without spilling any more. "Yes, Will, I am familiar with
those traditions. I just... I wasn't aware that you and Deanna had decided
on a traditional Betazoid ceremony. Last I'd heard, you were planning a
Terran civil ceremony."
Riker grinned. "With Lwaxana at the helm? We persuaded her into making a
couple of changes, but overall..." He shrugged. "It really doesn't matter
one way or another to me. As long as Deanna's happy, I'll go along with
anything."
Jean-Luc sipped at his tea, feigning nonchalance. This was not good. Not
good at all. "So, what is my role in all of this?"
Riker's brow wrinkled. "Um... best man, sir. As we discussed. The
Betazoid tradition calls for the groom's family to stand up with him, but
since my situation is... I would be honored--"
"Yes, yes, of course, Will," Jean-Luc interrupted. "I hadn't forgotten. I
just..." He cleared his throat. "The wedding party -- the entire wedding
party -- is naked. Yes, I see. And who else will be participating?"
"Traditionally, the groom's family -- that would be you -- and the bride's
attendant. Deanna is asking Beverly to stand up with her. I'm sure she'll
accept."
"Beverly?" He was appalled by how his voice squeaked.
Riker smiled, obviously oblivious to his captain's anguish. "Well, I'll
get back to my post. Thank you, sir."
Jean-Luc managed to nod, his stomach roiling. As soon as the doors closed,
he raced to the head.
He stared in the mirror, tap running, water dripping from his face.
"Oh my god..." he squeaked.
----
"You know about traditional Betazoid wedding ceremonies, right?"
Beverly turned and smiled at her friend. "Of course I do, Deanna. Who can
forget that incident with that man your mother almost married. What was
his name?... um... you know... that tall guy that was so conservative, not
a good match for your mother, no, not at all... what *was* his name?..."
She could hear herself babbling but couldn't seem to stop herself. This
was not good. Not good at all.
"Minister Campio," Deanna said.
"Yes, him. Anyway..." She attempted a casual pose, propping a hip against
the edge of her desk. Good desk. Nice, solid desk. "So... matron of
honor. Wow."
She took a deep breath. She really needed to control her emotions. After
all, she was in the presence of a woman who could read her emotional state
as easily as reading a PADD. What was wrong with her anyway? She'd never
had a problem with nudity, especially in a situation like this where it was
the norm.
Deanna looked at her warily. "Do you accept?"
"Of course I do!" Shoving aside her reticence, she laid a hand on Deanna's
shoulder. "I am honored that you asked me."
"Really?" Deanna looked relieved.
Beverly was suddenly quite sure of herself. "Really."
Deanna beamed and hugged Beverly briefly. "You've been my best friend for
a long time, Beverly. I wouldn't want anyone else standing up for me."
Tears welled in her black eyes.
Sincerely touched, Beverly hugged her again. "Thank you, Deanna. It's
going to be a beautiful ceremony."
Deanna pulled away. "Well, I'd better get back to my office. Lots of
appointments this afternoon." She headed for the door.
Beverly called out after her. "There is a best man, right? Like in Terran
ceremonies? Someone to escort me and stand up for Will?"
Deanna turned back and smiled as the doors opened. "Yes. Will's asking
the captain to stand in where his parents normally would. I'm sure he'll
accept. See you later!" The passed through the doorway and the doors
whooshed shut.
Beverly froze, smile paralyzed on her lips.
"Oh my god..." she squeaked.
----
Deanna snuggled up next to Will on the couch. He draped his arm across her
shoulder and kissed the top of her head. "All finished?" he asked.
"I hope so. Mother's taking care of the caterer and the florist. She
booked the chapel last week and she's having a 'special friend' perform the
ceremony. Don't ask me who, but I'm sure that it's someone whose status
befits the daughter of someone of her regal standing." She grinned up at
him.
"So," he said, "I guess we've done our part."
"Yeah. Oh!" She sat up straight. "Did you ask the captain?"
"Yes, I did, and he agreed." Will looked off at the far wall. "I was
surprised at his quick acceptance, actually."
"Why? He's the perfect choice."
Will grinned at her. "Yes, but there *is* that little issue of nudity. He
seemed slightly flustered when I reminded him of that, but only for a
moment."
"You don't think he'll have a problem being nude in public?"
Riker shook his head. "Nah. He's changed a lot since I first met him.
Fifteen years ago? He never would have done it." He looked down as she
snuggled against his chest again. "You asked Beverly?"
She nodded. "She'll do it. Her reaction was the same as the captain's --
hesitant at first, but she said yes. Oh Will." She sighed into his shirt.
"I'm glad everything's working out like this."
"Me too." He stroked her hair, then raised her face up to his. "It's
going to be perfect. Don't worry about anything."
----
Beverly stood before her full-length mirror, arms folded across the closure
of her robe.
"Well, you can't put this off any longer," she muttered, and with quick
fingers, she loosened the sash and flung the robe off her shoulders,
letting it drop to the floor.
She sighed at what she saw. She was in remarkable shape for a fifty-three
year old woman, but there were still definite signs of age, *normal* signs.
She cupped her bare breasts in her hands and lifted them, then let them
droop again. She'd never considered having them surgically altered or
enhanced. They were just breasts, after all, and they were supposed to sag
with age. It was normal, dammit.
But she'd never considered walking around nude in front of a crowd of
people either. Especially when one of those people was...
She shook one of her legs, watching the thigh muscles jiggle. She hadn't
been working out like she used to. There just hadn't been enough time.
She turned sideways and groaned. Where had her butt gone? She sucked in
her gut. Well, that was a little better. At least her stomach muscles
still worked. She poked at her belly. It jiggled just a bit.
This was not good. Not good at all.
Shrugging back into her robe, she sat at her desk and checked her upcoming
schedule. The wedding was in a month. She scrolled through the days
leading up to it. With some juggling, she should be able to schedule two
workouts a day, an hour each.
Her confidence building again, she switched off her monitor. In a month's
time, with hard work, she should be back in shape and ready to take her
place proudly by Deanna's side.
And by Jean-Luc's side.
She stared at the blank monitor, chewing on her lip.
No, it would be fine. It would all work out. As long as nothing
unexpected came up. Like a Romulan attack. Or some plague that kept her
working for twenty-four hour days.
She glanced over at the medikit she always kept on her desk. If worst came
to worst, there were other means...
Disgusted, she pushed away from the desk and went off to bed.
----
Jean-Luc grunted and blinked as sweat dribbled into his left eye.
Just one more rep. That's all he needed.
Arm muscles bulging with the strain, he pulled against the resistance, body
shaking with the effort to bring his hands together in front of his chest.
Slowly, muscles screaming, he pulled until his clenched fists almost met,
then whooshed out a breath as he released the tension.
He dropped the handles and stood, head down and panting. He watched two
drops of sweat plop down between his feet. After a moment, he moved away
from the apparatus and grabbed a towel from his bag. He stood for a moment
after wiping his face and head and stared into the full-length mirror.
His arms were bulked up nicely but he knew that wouldn't last. They would
relax into their normal state soon. Too bad. He had a fleeting vision of
himself pumping barbells in the nude right before making his entrance at
the wedding. Maybe there would be a restroom close by the entrance that he
could pop into... Of course, he'd have to find some place to hide the
barbells. It wasn't like he'd have a coat to hide them in...
"Foolishness," he muttered and turned away from the mirror.
He'd thought about aging, of course. It would be unusual if, after
seventy-two years, he had never thought of it. But he'd always feared the
deterioration of his mind, not his body. His chance of developing Irumodic
Syndrome was slight, granted, but he'd never fully shaken the memories of
confusion and frustration he'd experienced in Q's fabricated future.
But now he was dealing with something very different, something very real.
He was going to be on display, in so many words, without the normalcy of a
uniform or any type of clothing. Exposed, vulnerable. He was not ashamed
to be nude, that wasn't it at all. It was just...
He turned back toward the mirror and approached it slowly. He flexed one
arm, satisfied by the bulge that appeared in his biceps. Unfortunately, he
couldn't walk around with his arms flexed all the time. His forearms were
fine, thick enough. His legs... he stepped back and frowned at the
reflection. In his youth, they were well-muscled, well-formed, almost too
developed to match the rest of his body. They were still shaped well
enough but they'd definitely thinned. He must work on them tomorrow.
He put his hands on his spandex-clad hips, then turned sideways. Amazing
how men's asses seemed to just erode away over the years. Standing
straighter, he tightened his buttocks. They didn't budge. Turning his
back to the mirror, he twisted and peered as well as he could over his
shoulder. Well, his butt was still there. Just barely.
When he turned back around, his eye caught something in the mirror and he
moved closer to investigate.
"Damn..." he whispered, running his fingers down his neck, massaging the
loose skin. He could lift weights until he couldn't squeeze through a door
but no amount of exercise would transform his... turkey neck. It was an
unfortunate result of age, gravity and genetics. There was nothing to be
done.
Well, there actually *was* something that could be done but he didn't have
the surgical instruments to do it himself. Or the know-how. He'd be
damned before he'd let any of the medical personnel think he was vain
enough to...
"Foolishness," he muttered again, and strode over to his bag. This was all
so ridiculous, it really was. It didn't matter how he looked in the nude.
The Betazoid wedding guests certainly weren't going to mind -- they were
all quite accustomed to it all. And he knew -- well, he assumed -- that he
was fitter than Will. Well, they were built differently anyway. There
really was nothing to worry about. No one was going to be judging or
comparing. It was supposed to be a joyous event, celebrating the joining
of two people in marriage. He would participate in the ceremony as he'd
promised. He wouldn't angst over his appearance. Everything would be
fine.
He threw on loose pants and top and picked up his bag, feeling better
already, and made his way to the holodeck door.
"Computer, end program," he said, causing the room to return to its neutral
state.
When the doors opened, he rushed through them. And collided with a body.
"Pardon me, I-- Beverly!"
She bent over to pick up the bag that he'd knocked from her shoulder.
"Jean-Luc, sorry. I didn't know anyone was in here. The gyms were being
used, and I was wanting to work out in private..." She trailed off, her
face reddening inexplicably.
"Yes, I know. I mean, I know that the gyms are full right now. That's why
I was..." He stopped too, suddenly tongue-tied.
"Well," she replied, and stepped through the doors. "I'll, uh... see you
later." The doors closed as she moved inside.
"Yes, later," he said belatedly. He frowned at the doors for a moment,
then set off toward the turbolift.
As the 'lift began moving, he remembered that Beverly was supposed to have
dinner with him. In ten minutes. He'd forgotten about it as had she, he
supposed.
No matter, he decided. He would have time to soak in a hot tub now. He
winced as he stretched his right arm. He dreaded morning -- he knew that
he was going to wake up in pain.
This was not good. Not good at all.
----
"I'm concerned about Beverly."
Will looked up from his plate. "What's up?"
Deanna rested her chin in her hand. "I'm sensing a lot of tension in her.
She's cancelled lunch twice this week, and she hasn't joined me to work out
at all. And when I asked her about it, she tensed up to the point of panic
and gave me some excuse about being too busy."
Will shrugged and forked a piece of salmon into his mouth. "Maybe work is
stressing her out."
"That's just it." Deanna sat up, brows furrowed. "There's nothing going
on. Alyssa told me that it's strictly routine in sickbay right now.
'Boring' is how she put it. And she also said that Beverly hasn't been
there much -- just enough to take care of routine maintenance."
Will looked thoughtful as he chewed. "Why don't you ask Beverly about it?
Up front?"
Deanna gave him a look. "You know Beverly -- she doesn't volunteer
*anything.* She's as bad as the captain when it comes to sharing her
feelings."
Will snickered and picked up his iced tea. "True. And speaking of the
captain, he's been pretty distant too. Even more so than usual." Will
paused, glass poised at his lips. "He's been walking strangely too."
"*Walking* strangely?"
"Yeah. Kinda... stiffly. Like something hurts." He took a gulp of tea.
"That doesn't sound good. Have you asked him about it?"
Will looked up, mouth full. "Are you kidding? 'I'm fine, Number One. Not
to worry.'"
Deanna giggled. Will did an excellent Picard impression, which was even
funnier when muffled by a mouthful of salmon. She picked up her fork.
"They're grownups," she said. "If there's something wrong, they'll deal
with it, I suppose."
Will just nodded in reply and continued eating.
----
Her room was interesting but somehow pleasing, decorated in brassy colors
with lots of cushions and comfortable furniture, but Beverly was too busy
pacing to take advantage of it all.
She stopped by the window and stared out. Lwaxana's grounds were lovely,
immaculately groomed and colorful with Betazoid flora. The spires of the
city rose up on the horizon, their lines muted by distance and the waning
sunshine. But Beverly saw none of it -- one thought kept repeating over
and over in her mind: "In an hour, I'll be naked. In front of Jean-Luc."
It was not exactly the scenario she'd envisioned when she'd imagined being
unclothed before him.
She was thoroughly disgusted with herself. She knew she was being
irrational and immature about the whole situation, that she should be
focusing on her friends' joy, that she was too old for such modesty, too
old to give a damn. But her emotions were betraying her logic. It was
damn depressing.
Perhaps if her plans hadn't been shot to hell, she'd at least feel that
she'd done all she could to improve her physical self. But one "crisis"
after another had intervened in the last two weeks, stealing away her free
time, and now The Day was here, leaving her standing by a window in Lwaxana
Troi's eccentrically appointed home and hoping for an attack of the
Tellarian flu to strike her down.
A knock at the door startled her. "Who is it?" she called out, suddenly
too tired to walk across the room.
"It's me, Bev. Can I come in?"
Beverly hurried over and opened the door, revealing a pale-faced Deanna.
"Come in, of course." She held the door as Deanna rushed past her. "Are
you okay? You look a bit peaked."
"Oh, just nerves," Deanna fluttered, sitting on the edge of the monstrous
bed. "I think they're typical for a bride. Well." She folded her hands
in her lap. "Are you ready?"
Beverly shrugged. "As ready as I'll ever be, I suppose." She motioned to
her simple floor-length gown. "It's not like I'm supposed to be dressed
for the occasion."
Deanna smiled. "Well, you do want to look nice for the reception. And you
look beautiful, as always. Very glamorous."
"Well," Beverly muttered, "we'll see how 'glamorous' I look once I take
this dress off."
Deanna tilted her head. "You're not worrying about that, are you, Bev?
There's nothing to be ashamed of, and your beauty -- how does it go? -- is
deeper than your skin."
"You sound like Data," Beverly said, grinning. She looked away. "I just
wish you'd done this twenty years ago. I'd've been a lot more comfortable
in my thirty-three year old skin."
"I didn't know you twenty years ago."
"You know what I mean."
Deanna hopped off the bed and gave Beverly a quick hug. "Don't worry about
it. You won't be the oldest naked person there -- my mother will be there,
for one, and friends of the family." She moved toward the door. "And
Captain Picard, of course." She waved as she opened the door. "I'll see
you in an hour!"
"I feel so much better," Beverly mumbled. "Thanks for reminding me that
Jean-Luc will be there to see--"
Her mouth dropped open.
"Oh... OH."
She sat down on the bed, her knees suddenly too shaky to support her.
She had been so obsessed with dreading her nude debut with Jean-Luc as an
audience member that she hadn't considered that he was a *participant* as
well.
How could she have overlooked that major detail? She snorted. "Major
detail" -- yeah, I *bet* it's major. She dropped her face into her hands.
This was not good. Not good at all. What was that line from that really
old 20th century film? "I don't like seeing my friends naked -- it makes
it hard to have dinner with them later."
Of course, Jean-Luc was more than just a friend. She couldn't deny that.
Despite her logical self arguing time and again that they were "just
friends," her emotional self had to disagree. She cared about Jean-Luc.
Deeply. In ways that colored her dreams sometimes.
She closed her eyes and wondered if she would be able to stand again.
----
"When do I, um, disrobe?"
"Right before we enter will be fine."
"Ah." Jean-Luc shifted his weight back and forth. He hadn't looked at his
first officer since he'd entered the small chamber. Not since he'd first
arrived and glanced over to see that Will was already... well, he was the
bridegroom, after all.
"It's almost time," Will said. "I wonder where Beverly is?"
Jean-Luc's gut wrenched but he kept his face neutral -- and facing straight
ahead. Through the open door, he could see a large number of Betazoids
milling about and finding seats. Most were already unclothed; some were
undressing and hanging their clothing in the alcoves that lined the walls
of the chapel. Everyone seemed relaxed and strangely quiet. Well, it was
a Betazoid gathering, after all. They were most likely communicating
telepathically.
"She should be here by now," Will continued. "I wonder what's keeping
her."
"Probably trying to get her hair just right." Jean-Luc tried to sound
jovial and relaxed. "And her dress is probab..." His stomach twisted
again and a groan almost escaped. He could feel Will looking at him.
Dress? What was he saying? Beverly wouldn't be dressed either. Cold
sweat broke out on his brow as the realization hit him hard. All this time
he'd been focused on his own appearance, lamenting his lack of workout
time, futilely massaging his neck, and he'd failed to remember that Beverly
would be just as naked as he.
Merde.
"Will!" The word burst out of his throat much louder than he'd intended.
"Yes, sir?"
"We didn't have any sort of rehearsal and I need to clarify something.
Will I be escorting Beverly down the aisle?"
"No, sir. You'll walk with me. Beverly will come in after we've taken our
places, and then she'll call Deanna from the audience."
Ah. Well, that wouldn't be so bad then.
"Don't worry, sir," Will said, leaning in. "The ceremony will be brief."
"Of course, Number One. It will all be fine, I'm sure."
A drop of sweat trickled down his neck.
Just then the chamber door burst open and he turned to see Beverly hurrying
in.
"Sorry I'm late," she said, her wide eyes darting over to Will, then back
to Jean-Luc.
"No problem, Beverly," Will said. "Are we ready?" He smiled and turned
back to look over the assembled throng.
Jean-Luc and Beverly looked at each other.
"Hi," she said. "How are you?"
"Fine," he answered.
They both looked away.
Will turned and raised an eyebrow. "Um, it's time."
"Yes, yes, of course," Jean-Luc responded and took hold of the top button
of his shirt.
<end part 1/2>
thesnow...@hotmail.com
paranoid about "looking good" for the wedding. And then Beverly
catches Jean-Luc staring "at her titties". What an apt word.
And you even managed to fit in some R/T.
Paula
TrexPhile
news:857cdb5c.02030...@posting.google.com:
Thanks! It really was fun imagining our "perfect" heroes feeling decidedly
imperfect.
And after I'd posted, I'd realized that I probably should have put "R/T" in
the subject line. Oh well...
Thanks for reading!
TrexPhile