And speaking of trashy romance novels.... was I??

I suppose I can contribute to my own fund.   This bit assumes a great deal.  
It's a conversation without backstory or plot and whether or not it makes
sense might depend entirely on how well you know the characters... still, I
make no apologies for vague nuance!  It's *my* therapy... <smiles>

"Fairly Routine"
QDestinyy@aol.com
(05/31/01)

"You're sitting here alone?"  Deanna Troi took a seat in Ten-Forward, setting
her glass on the bar and glancing sidelong at the man beside her.   He looked
to her and shrugged, then played the edge of his own drink with the palm of
his hand.

"I'm reflecting."

"I saw you 'reflecting'," Deanna smiled gamely, "She was quite beautiful.  
What happened, did she turn you down?"

That brought his eyes up.  She saw them flash and somehow, it seemed that he
would say something about her remark.  Only his focus shifted.  He glanced
past her, out into the open lounge.   

"She might as well have," he offered up a wry smirk.

"Except that she didn't."  Deanna lifted her glass to her lips, "I ran into
her on her way out of Ten-Forward.  For a woman who'd just turned down Will
Riker, she looked remarkably unsatisfied."

"Deanna--"  He looked to her eyes and then down at her hands.  "How is that
drink?   It looks good."

"You don't want to talk?"  she observed his expression, noting the marginal
rise and fall of his shoulders.

"Not about this,"  Riker smiled neutrally.  A moment had settled between them
before he spoke again.  "So,"  he returned to his drink, "have a good
afternoon?"

"I suppose I did,"  Deanna sipped from her glass amicably.  "Fairly routine,
but none the worse for wear.  There's only one thing I've been wondering."

"Really?" he leaned forward with interest, "what's that?"

"Did you just confirm that Will Riker turned down the obvious advance of a
beautiful woman?"  Her eyes sparkled and he stared back at her blankly for an
instant before sighing incredulously.  

"Deanna--"

"That's what I thought,"  she grinned, tapping her comm badge, "Troi to
Crusher."

"Deanna!"

A voice came back over the comm, <<Crusher here.  What can I do for you Deanna?
>>

"It's Will," she smirked, "I think he's ill."

<<Can he make it to sickbay?>>  Crusher responded with concern.

"Belay that doctor, I'm fine,"  Riker cut in.  "Deanna's just making a point."

<<Deanna?>>

"He's right Beverly," Troi smiled, "I was only teasing Will,"  her smirk
turned into a giggle, "I'm sorry."

<<You sound sorry>>  Beverly's voice came back.  <<But I suppose I'll let it
go, this once.  Crusher out>>

"Now look what you've done!"  Sporting a impish glare, Deanna turned to
Riker, "You almost got us both in trouble!"

"Me?"  he stammered.

"Well, I'm not the one who told her it was a false alarm."

"What was I supposed to do?  Show up in sickbay because I didn't FEEL like
being on a date tonight?"

The tone of Will's voice changed and Deanna regarded him frankly.    "Are you
all right?"  she finally asked.

"Fine," he shrugged, "I had a pretty routine day myself."

Her nod was automatic.  "Came up here to unwind?"

"Just like you," he confirmed.

"Actually,"  leaning forward, Deanna checked in both directions before
wrinkling her nose, "I came for the chocolate..."

He stared at her.  For the longest time, he simply sat there and said
nothing.  Deanna frowned at him minutely, puzzled at the contradiction
between his neutral gaze and then rolling turmoil of his emotion.  

Pulling her stool toward the bar, she placed her elbow on the smooth surface
and laid her head in her hand, looking up at him quizzically.  "You're making
me work for my nickle this evening, Commander," a smile tipped the corners of
her lips.  "What are you hiding?"

"You're the Betazoid," he offered her yet another shrug and looked down at
his the glass in his hand.

"I can't read you,"  she admitted.

He lifted his gaze and shook his head matter-of-factly, "I'm not blocking."

She didn't answer, simply nodded in return.  "I know that.  But right now, I
can't read you."

"Oh," he looked away again, eyes scanning the room as though there were
someone there he'd missed, but then his attention returned.  "Did you want me
to say something?"

Deanna exhaled sharply and shook her head, lifting it from her hand.  "No,"
her breath drew out on a sigh, "no, Will, I really don't."  she sat up
straight.

"Well," he downed the last of his drink in one gulp and grimaced slightly, "I
guess I wouldn't know what to say, anyway."

"I don't regret those four days," she spoke after a short period of silence
had passed between them.

"Me neither," the smile that touched the corners of his lips was genuine, if
somewhat crooked.  "Four days, four months ago," and then he laughed, "you'd
think we'd have forgotten by now."

Deanna turned her head and regarded him.  Allowing herself to share in the
irony of his remark, she finally shrugged.  "Well, we're good friends."

Riker's eyes suddenly sharpened.  He set his glass down and shoved it along
the bar before asking,  "And that's all you want to be?"

"What?" she might have laughed, except that she wasn't certain he was joking.

"Friends," he deadpanned, "that's all you want?  I mean, I know what I said.  
I know what you said.  That last night ... the week we came back from the
Briar Patch, I remember what we both said.  But sometimes I replay that
conversation in my head," he sought out her eyes and pinned her with a sharp
look.  "And when I do that, I can't remember how it ended--"

"Friends is safe.  It's what we're used to."  Deanna cut in before he could
finish. "It's comfortable."

"That's true."

"And you were the one who suggested--"

"But you agreed," he started to frown, "very quickly as I recall."

Troi looked to him incredulously.  She spread her hands and set them both in
her lap. "We've been friends for years, Will.  What did you want from me?"

He stared at her in silence.

"What?" she asked again, "did you expect me to stand there and beg you not to
set things back the way they were?  Or maybe you thought I was hoping you'd
come for -me- this time?  Tell me you didn't give a damn what the Federation
or the Admiralty, or the whole damn universe thought.  That you wanted me,
and that you'd always loved me."  Deanna rose from her chair and smiled
sardonically.  "Did you expect I was dreaming you'd ask me to marry you?"   
When he hadn't answered, she exhaled quietly and it was almost a laugh.  "I'm
sorry, Will..."

She turned to leave, and only then did she begin to realize that her retreat
would illuminate the way the conversation had upset her.    Except that she
couldn't turn back anymore and save face.  

Not until his hand fell gently on her arm.  He turned her for both of them,
and looked to her eyes in silence.

"I almost walked out on my chocolate," she managed a small, if somewhat
chagrinned smile.

"I thought you'd be angry with me if I let you leave here without it," he
smiled in return.

"Well," she glanced back at her chair, "I probably would have."  

Opting to stand rather than sit, Deanna took a spot near the bar and looked
up at Will when he came to stand beside her.

"So," she traced the surface of the wood with her hand, "I guess it's been an
average day for both of us."

She might as well have asked about the weather, but Riker was smiling when he
answered.  "Fairly routine, but none the worse for wear," he shifted his
stance and tipped his head to one side.   "There's only one thing I've been
wondering..."

"Really?" she leaned forward with interest, "what's that?"

"Will you marry me?"

Deanna froze; looked back at him with wide eyes, mouth agape.  "What?"

"Will you marry me?" he repeated the question simply, but his eyes were
alight.

"You're serious?" she stammered.

"Yes."

"You're asking me -here-?"

"Yes."

"In Ten-Forward?"

"Yes."

"In the middle of the night?!"

"Yeah," he hadn't even touched her, but the distance between them was
tangibly charged.

"Why?"  Her question seemed to catch him off-guard.  He cleared his throat
and swallowed.

"Well," but the catch in his voice was readily apparent.  "Because... "

"No, wait..."  Deanna cut him off and bridged the gap between their bodies.  
"Don't say it."

"Why not?" he asked.

"I don't want you to say it,"  she wrapped her arms around his neck and drew
him toward her into a warm embrace.    Not a kiss, but rather the kind of hug
which placed her head against the side of his broad chest and held his arms
at her back.  "I want you to feel it," she spoke into the fabric of his
uniform.

She knew he'd closed his eyes, though she hadn't seen it happen.  She knew
because she felt his concentration -- and then everything glowed brilliantly.
 The force of it flowed through her, and she welcomed every nuance of
sensation.   It was just the sort of magic she'd remembered.  And that was
best of all...

"Yes," she whispered back at him.  

"Yes, I did it right?" he asked the side of her hair with a gentle breath,
"or yes you'll marry me?"

"Yes." she whispered playfully, "and yes."   

Using the broad width of his shoulders for leverage, Deanna leapt into his
arms, wrapping her legs around his torso.  "And yes..."  she giggled,
glancing behind her at the two tables still occupied in the lounge.  The
officers watching averted their gazes with decorum.

"What's the third yes, for?" he asked her while his hands moved slowly down
her body.

"For later," she tipped her head to his and pressed their foreheads together,
"for safe keeping," and then she closed her eyes and kissed his parted lips.  
It was long and sweet, gentle and barely there.  But she was breathless when
she drew away again.  "For whenever you need it."

With a nearly inaudible growl, Will pulled her closer still; a short staccato
motion that rocked her body against the upper portion of his.  

"Then I don't give a damn what the Federation or the Admiralty, or the whole
damn universe thinks."  Deanna smiled when the heat of his whisper tickled
the edge of her ear.

Riker walked them both out of the line of sight and backed her up against a
far wall of the lounge.  Lifting one hand to trace the edge of her face, he
brushed a tumble of wayward hair from her cheek.  "I want you," his voice was
warm and low when he pulled away to look at her.   

"My beautiful Betazoid angel..." his mouth fell soft as a breathy caress
against her lips while the last of his words proclaimed themselves  -- not
aloud -- but in her mind.

"I've always loved you."

=/end/=