A Lunchtime Rendezvous

Posted on Tue Aug 1st, 2023 @ 7:33pm by Lieutenant Commander Lyra Cassiel & Lieutenant Commander Andrei Petrov

Mission: S1 Episode 5: Ex Post Facto
Location: Holodeck 1
Timeline: Date 2371-08-23 at 1200
3422 words - 6.8 OF Standard Post Measure

After sleeping the previous day and evening away in the comfort of Andrei’s quarters and with the peace of having him in near proximity to her for the majority of that day, Lyra was feeling more like herself. Was she completely back to normal? Of course not, but she no longer felt like all she wanted to do was sleep. She’d woken with Andrei in the morning and shared tea and light conversation with him before he left for his shift. She went back to sleep for another couple of hours and then woken up, took an easy run around the deck twice, and had been up and working since. When she received the invitation for lunch, she was sitting on the couch in Andrei’s quarters reading reports and listening to music. It made her smile. It also reminded her of a promise she was very much looking forward to fulfilling later when he was off shift.

Hopefully Jasper had cleared Andrei’s schedule.

Prompt as always, she arrived at the holodeck at the appointed time. He’d specified casual, so casual it was. She wore dark wash jeans that looked like she had been poured into, they hugged every curve of her long legs and tantalizing toned bottom. The black chunky heeled boots she wore were only a few inches of height but feminine in shape. Her shirt was a low v-neck cold-shoulder top with long slit sleeves and made from an airy, light material. The neckline was low and showed just the shadow of her cleavage, but it was not immodest nor too tempting. The asymmetrical hem and the open sleeves gave it interest. Instead of her usual red, she had opted for a gorgeous emerald green that complimented her complexion just as well and finished it with a simple gold hoop earring.

Even casual, she looked gorgeous.

Her dark eyes shifted to make sure the program was running and on seeing it was, she walked inside.

She entered into a carpeted foyer with stone floors and a dark red carpet which encircled the room’s floor. Besides an entrance table to the right, before her was a series of stone steps. As she moved through the space, the entrance to a well-decorated lodge presented itself with large windows, shimmering candles, and an almost medieval style of royal decoration. Outside the windows, a storm blew snow around in great heaps. On the far end of the great room on the right, Andrei stood from his seat at a table near a gigantic fireplace big enough for Lyra to stand in. The roaring fire cast his face in shadow.

He was in his uniform, of course, as he was still in duty, but that hadn’t stopped him from stripping off the jacket and leaving the red turtleneck beneath.

“Welcome to Petrovskiy Dvorets.” he said, with a somewhat grand gesture. “The first house of my family as it once was. Long ago.”

Lyra had taken the scene in with interest as she walked through the obvious route to where she was going. It was quite nice, but it wasn’t a setting that she was familiar with. As she stepped into the great room and saw the fireplace and table, she took it in carefully and smiled when she saw Andrei rise to greet her. The fire light caught her soft brown hair which hung loose around her face and shoulders and made it reflect the warm, rich hues.

“Lovely to see you as always, darling.” She greeted him and moved toward the table with an easy, swaying gait. She could tease him now and enjoy it. “Built under orders from Catherine the Great?”

Of course with her connection to Andrei, she had been taking time to study up on her Russian history. She had no doubt he wouldn’t do the same with her own, but she really didn’t mind. There was no real reason to do so.

“Yes, actually.” He said, a look of surprise crossing his features. “Dimitry Petrov was one of her lovers and she had it built for him. My family has a history of using the bedroom to climb to the top of empires. How did you know about the palace?”

He pulled out a chair for her and offered a hand to help her down into it. He was taking care of her after all.

Most noble families had that particular method slotted into the family history at least somewhere along the line, though it appeared more often for some than for others. She took Andrei’s hand and moved around the chair, taking a seat when he had scooted it in for her. Did she need the help? Of course not, but she enjoyed the attention of a gentleman and gentleman he was being. The past couple of days had certainly confirmed for them both that Andrei was extremely attached to her in a way he had been with no other. Perhaps it really was love.

“I read it, but it was only a passing footnote so my knowledge about it ends there.” She explained and placed her hands on the table to feel the quality.

“Well, I loved it as a child because it was the perfect place to bring my friends if we wanted to be alone.” He said, taking the seat next to her as a servant with long red hair entered the room. “Fun in the snow and things like that.”

The underlying meaning he implied bringing people to the lover’s palace didn’t go unnoticed, and her attention was briefly drawn to the servant as she entered. It was very Andrei. She looked back at him. “Well, there certainly is a lot of snow. Tell me more about this place?”

“Catherine the Great built it for Dimitry, as you know, as a hunting lodge. His son rebuilt it as a residence and my house established itself in the local region. It was our main residence until Emperor Tomasus made us Lords of Russia. Since then, it’s been a minor winter lodge used mostly by the heir to Russia. I spent a lot of time here and used to hold my own court of sorts of young children of Lords. The memories are…varied and sweet.”

The redheaded servant placed a silver dish on the table silently, and then left. When she returned, she was accompanied by two male servants who brought dishes and bowls are their own.

“I thought a Russian lunch might be a nice way for us to talk before I have to get back to the Bridge.”

“That sounds perfect.” Lyra smiled and crossed her legs under the table. “I can just imagine you here with your court acting the king.” She looked around the room again, taking in the decorations. “Did you ever pretend you were back in the eighteenth century?”

“Oh, sure. All the time.” He said with a smile as he watched the servants uncover the dishes. There was salad, steamed fish with like, and a meat and potato stew. The woman also poured two small glasses of a light white wine before turning and walking swiftly away. “I was Dimitry and Mika was Catherine the Great. Sometimes, we’d have a friend or cousin play Potemkin and he and I would reenact the sword fight that ended the poor man’s life.”

Lyra smirked slightly, amused. Of course as children, the rather incestuous connotations likely didn’t occur to them, they were just having fun. “I am sure you were all very cute. Tell me, did you ever accidentally on purpose stab one of your unfortunate friends or cousins with a real sword?”

“Sometimes, Potemkin died in history at the hands of a Petrov. I believe in coincidence.” He said somewhat cryptically with a smile on his face as he pulled the salad toward him. “I found any excuse I could.”

A soft chuckle passed her lips and she shook her head. “Of course you did, darling.”

She had little doubt that young Andrei had been quite naughty in his time, a fact of which had been confirmed by Yana herself with her sharing the king of the mountain story. “I can just see a young you with your little shaksha standing over your fallen cousin in triumph.”

“The cousin Potemkin escaped injured. The slave Potempkins didn’t escape at all.” He said clearly. “How about you? Did you have that kind of fun growing up?”

The answer didn’t come immediately and she took the excuse of dishing out some of the salad to herself to delay it. The truth of the matter was it was complicated. Her young life had been governed by the input of three very different parental figures all of who demanded something different. Her papai wanted her to be intelligent, poised, and respectable; kind, but able to hold her ground. Her mother had wanted her to be cunning, shrewd, and perceptive enough to read people while giving nothing in return. A woman to attract the attention of powerful lord fathers for their lord sons, one who could bring a man to his knees with a look. At least that had been how it had started with her mother, but when Renato was murdered, those goals became secondary. Alexander Cassiel demanded ruthlessness and fire, he broke many parts of her to rebuild her into a tool to be utilized. Under his hand, her body had been trained, her mind had been trained; everything she did was for a purpose, including all aspects of her social life. All of it was training.

But part of that training had been a fair bit of accidentally on purpose questionable things and, in time, they had become fun. All three of her parents had gotten their way on some level and created what she was today. Absently, she opened her hand and looked at her palm. What would they think of the result of their efforts? She picked up her fork with the hand she had briefly looked at.

“When I was older, yes.” She gave him the simplest answer, though her expression still indicated the complexity of her brief internal reverie. “I was given slaves to hone my skills on, and then things went from there.” Pausing, she smiled that wicked little expression he loved. “Sometimes I had to hunt them down myself first, though.”

“Ah, the hunt.” He said with a grin. “Funny you should mention that. After we’re done here, I’d like for you to accompany me to the Bridge. You’ll like what we see there.”

“Of course, darling.” She agreed readily and didn’t ask for more explanation than what he had given. Instead, she looked back to the food in front of them. “You grew up eating things like this then? Do they have any specific names?”

“These were standard options if we weren’t being exotic. There’s no special name for the salad or the steamed fish, but this is Solyanka.” He answered, pointing to the stew in front of them. “To be honest, Russian cuisine was never my favorite. I always wanted hot dogs as a child.”

“It was chicken tenders for me.” Lyra supplied between bites. “I went through a period where that and spaghetti was all I would eat, and being a stubborn child I would just go to bed hungry and angry if I didn’t get my way.”

“You? Strong willed?” he asked with a mock smile on his face. “No… I can’t imagine it.”

“I know, I know. It is a shock.” She reached out and patted his arm in a sympathetic way, then immediately smiled. “Do you still like hotdogs?”

“Not even a little.” he said with a shake of his head as he proceeded to work through his salad. “I’m more of a steak man now. How about you? Do you still appreciate a good chicken tender every now and then?”

“I have more appreciation for a big, thick hot dog now.” She replied simply, though with the way her brows lifted and the lilt to her voice, the innuendo was blatantly obvious. If it weren’t, the mischievous little smirk that followed surely made it so.

“Sometimes life brings new experiences that change what we truly enjoy.” he said, his visible eye communicating that carnal desire that wasn’t satisfied the day before. His hand moved to her leg as he prepared to ask a somewhat subtle question. “How are you feeling today? Are you still tired or do you think you could take… a bit of a beating?”

Lyra knew what he wanted; she wanted it too. Her hand found his under the table and coaxed it inward and upward on her thigh a bit more. “I’m much better today, darling, and looking forward to when you come home to me.”

He squeezed then, a smile on his face that communicated his interest, but he was still reserved; controlled. He pulled his hand back, dragging his nails over the fabric of her jeans as he did so. Then, grabbing his fork, he finished his salad.

She returned his smile and finished her own salad, then took the lead from him as they started in on the fish. After a few minutes of companionable silence where they were about halfway through the fish, she spoke up again. “Do you have any requests for your birthday meal, darling? I haven’t forgotten and I’m still planning on giving you a day to remember.”

“I think it would be fun to watch you eat a big hotdog.” he said with a quiet laugh. Then he shook his head. “You know I don’t think much about food. Meat, I suppose. I trust you to choose, love. You know what I would like.”

“Alright.” She nodded and picked up another bite of fish. It was quite plain, but it suited her; she needed to work back up to richer dishes. “I was thinking we might have breakfast with your parents and sister. Kassandra will be occupied, I fear. I figured your mother might enjoy making breakfast for you.”

“Is this your attempt at avoiding a turf war?” he asked, raising an eyebrow that accompanied his pleased-looking smile. He clearly liked the idea. “Shutting out dear Kassandra. You’re a cutthroat.”

“It wouldn’t be much of a war, darling.” Lyra spoke with a simple confidence as if this were a fact of life. “I simply cannot spend another breakfast with your family where she sits and stares into space and maybe says two words the whole time. It is so terribly dull and you don’t deserve dull on your birthday.”

“She probably feels she doesn’t belong.” He commented, and then looked over her shoulder at the raging fire for a moment. “But I think it’s a great idea. And my mother will be happy.”

“She doesn’t.” Again, it was simple and succinct. Lyra took a sip of her wine. “She doesn’t even make an attempt to. Even if she did, I would rather see your mother happy, it is important to you and that is important to me.”

“I meant the breakfast itself would make her happy. She’s very cagey about Kassandra, actually.” Andrei said with a lift of his eyebrow. “She won’t admit how she feels about her. Ever the secret-keeper.”

“Well, hopefully the absence of the black hole at breakfast will make her happy too. Kassandra is a wonderful tool for your mother to wield, but your birthday is about you, darling.” She shrugged. Truthfully Lyra was relatively certain how Yana viewed her husband’s bastard daughter, but what she couldn’t place were Andrei’s feelings exactly; not that it was unusual by any means. The topic of Kassandra didn’t come up often because Lyra sincerely didn’t care about the woman, and Andrei never brought her up either outside of passing comments related more often than not to work. Still, judging by his pleased look at her plotting to exclude the family shame, he didn’t hold any particular love for her.

“It’s been a humiliation for Mother.” He said, shaking his head. “A recognized bastard is a stain on a stain. We’ll have a much better time without her and my…blood brother.”

“It has been, yes, but one she bears for a purpose.” Lyra reminded him. She didn’t want to dwell on it though and caught Andrei’s hand as he reached for his wine. Bringing it to her lips, she planted gentle kisses on the back of each finger. “Just us then, darling. We’ll have a good time.”

“Yes, it sounds quite nice.” He said, pulling her hand to his and kissing it after she was done. He released it then and continued for his wine. “How do you feel about my vow to give my life to save Johnathan’s if needed?”

“Bad for Johnny - he might actually go through with it. Good for you for the same reason.” It was cold, but it was true. There was no way that Andrei would lay down his life for someone like Johnathan. In fact there were less than a handful of people that he might actually consider doing so for, and even that wasn’t a guarantee. She finished off her fish and noticed he had done the same and after taking a sip of her wine, she pulled the stew closer between them.

“Are you calling me a liar?” He asked, his boot finding her foot under the table and playing there. “Don’t you think I’m a man of my word?”

A small smirk tugged at the corners of her mouth, but she tamed it quick enough. “A liar? You? Heavens no, darling. I know you wouldn’t lie if you made a promise.”

She leaned in conspiratorially while her own foot moved to trace along one of his calves. “But I know a secret.”

“And what’s that?” He asked, leaning in as well so that their faces were close. Very close.

Lyra started to drift in like she was going to kiss him, her eyes even lidding slightly. Right before she got too close though, she suddenly brought her hand up between them, her middle and index fingers crossed. She grinned.

“You crossed your fingers.”

“Will it cost me to keep you quiet?” He asked quietly, looking into her eyes intensely.

“What would you offer for my silence?” She challenged in return, bringing her lips closer again so much so that they almost tickled each other.

“Perhaps a gentle massage, a hot tub, and..a big hot dog.” He said with a grin, his lips touching hers but not kissing.

“Well how could I say no to that?” Lyra asked with a chuckle and finally kissed him, playful and quick. “Very well, Lord Petrov, you’ve bought my silence. For now. There may be more massages in your future.”

“I certainly hope so.” He said, and then withdrew from the closeness they had shared. Picking up his spoon, he started eating from his bowl.

The pair were not made of people who felt the need to fill silence unnecessarily. It was companionable and easy. Affection was shown under the table with legs touching and shifting on occasion. They had limited time, but they weren’t rushed. After she had finished what she wanted, Lyra picked up her wine.

“You know, it’s a shame you denied those 45 minute lunches when Jackie asked for them… I’m suddenly in the mood for a hot dog but there’s just not enough time.” She smirked at him, letting it disappear behind her glass as she finished off her drink.

“You’re evil.” he commented, cutting his eyes at her with a mock-sad face. “Whatever that means. But, hopefully, we can both be patient.”

Lyra’s smirk grew into a grin at his expression and she stood. “Hopefully. Either that or the bridge will be in for quite a show. We don’t want to be late though, darling.”

“Yes, best be going. I’ve had enough anyway.”

Andrei looked at the time reference in his patch and dropped his spoon in the bowl. The two of them stood then and left for the Bridge, ending the program as they left.

END