Work Text:
**
Susan really had meant to put the whole day–week, really–behind her. She was going to keep her head down, do her job, maybe add a little bit of sanctioned sneakiness to help her feel better, but that was it. No more anxious dreams, no more sex advice for aliens. Just the work.
Vir showed up as she was leaving the mess after breakfast.
“Oh, there you are, Commander,” he said, relieved, as if he hadn’t known exactly where and when to find her. Vir probably had all their schedules available for whenever Londo needed to ambush someone. She did the same for John.
Still, she had some sympathy for Vir. As far as Susan could tell, Vir had been engaged and un-engaged in the space of three days, had gotten tangled up in a Narn blood oath meant for someone else, and, of course, saw his plot to help the Narn unceremoniously killed. Susan had to admit she felt bad for him.
She also wanted someone to feel bad for her. Not only had she been forced to talk to Vir about relationships and six, she’d gone and interrupted John and Delenn. Susan was still shaking off the mortification–not that she hadn’t noticed the affection brewing between them, but wasn’t sure how she felt about it and she certainly didn’t need to see anything.
She supposed it could have been worse. It could have been in person. It could have been two seconds later.
She frowned and turned back to Vir, who was looking at her expectantly. “Mister Cotto,” Susan said with a sigh. “What can I do for you today? Did you get everything straightened out with Londo?”
Vir pursed his lips and shrugged, clasping his hands in front of him. “In a manner of speaking.” He sighed deeply. “I am no longer the diplomatic attaché to Minbar, if that’s what you’re asking.”
She’d expected as much. “I’m sorry,” Susan said.
Vir jerked his face in several directions before settling on an unhappy smile. “You know Londo,” he said and shrugged again. “But that’s not why I’m here.” Susan raised her eyebrows. “I know it didn’t work out,” Vir continued, “but I wanted to thank you again for your advice. Before I knew she was a mass murderer, Lyndisty and I got to three!”
Susan blinked. And opened her mouth. And closed it. And blinked again. Before she could possibly respond to more unsolicited information about Centauri sex, Vir said, “And you know, it was really good. I did what you said, and was patient and focused on her–but you know, I think it will be even better when it’s someone I really care about.”
“I–.” There was nothing she could possibly say to this. Why did people think she was to be trusted with personal information? She didn’t have a trustworthy face. She had a face that made ensigns cry.
But Vir was not crying, he was looking at her for some kind of validation of the most banal sexual discovery ever made. Maybe if Susan was lucky, the Epsilon star would go supernova. Or the reactor core would explode. Maybe there could be a few Earth Cruisers to try to take on the Minbari–.
Not that she wanted to think about the Minbari for a while, either. Or any people caring about each other in the context of any sort of romantic entanglement. She was probably going to have to talk to John about whatever the heck he was getting up to with Delenn, and it wouldn’t be worse than this horrifying discussion, but somehow Susan didn’t think it would be better.
“Yes,” Susan said, trying not to chew off her tongue. “I hear that makes a difference.”
Vir beamed. “I think so,” he said, and scuttled off toward the lift. “Thank you again,” he called over his shoulder.
Three. Not equivalent to third base, or even second–nope, she didn’t want to think about it. Some things were better left unsaid and unknown and unremarked on. Ugh. Susan went back to the mess for more coffee.
**
It was not Delenn’s fault they were both early for the council meeting. Or her fault that everyone else seemed to be late. The universe, on the other hand–.
“Look,” Susan said after they had sat in silence for two minutes. Delenn glanced up, and if Susan hadn’t known her well, she would not have picked up on the anxiety behind those calm eyes. But it was there, just barely, and Susan tried to smile. “I’m sorry about interrupting the other day.”
Delenn nodded, a little jerkily, and Susan wasn’t sure if that was an acceptance of her apology or not. She was really not cut out for navigating romantic entanglements with aliens. Or part aliens. She had only a limited understanding of Delenn’s transformation–part human, part Minbari, but certainly still culturally Mibari. She should tread carefully.
What she said was: “If you were human, I’d tell you that if you hurt him, I’d have to kill you.”
If Delenn were human, it might have been funny. Or at least a part of a long tradition of siblings and friends prematurely putting out defensive elbows in a show of solidarity. But Delenn wasn’t human, and the look that settled on her face was confused and a little hurt.
Susan sighed, looking around the room. Not even Londo had shown up yet, and Londo was usually prompt for these meetings. More time to hear his own voice. Susan could usually count on that. Maybe the Gaim would arrive. Or a Pak’ma’ra? She tried to recover. “It’s a figure of speech,” she said.
Delenn’s frown receded slightly, and Susan wondered how many weird turns of phrase John had introduced her to. Susan couldn’t ask that, so figured she would try to dig herself out of the hole she had created. “It means–,” she started.
“I won’t hurt him,” Delenn said quietly, with the same surety she’d carried when she had arrived with cruisers in tow and saved all of their asses. It was not the same tone, but it conveyed the same steel.
“You don’t know that,” Susan said, pushing, and she hadn’t realized before this how protective she felt toward John. She wanted to say something about Anna or that whole mess with Morden last year or how soft John’s heart was under all that bluster, but she couldn’t find the words–and somehow she suspected Delenn knew all of that better than she did. Instead, Susan said, “None of us can know that.”
Delenn shook her head. “No,” she said, and her eyes darkened for a second before the shade lifted. “But I will never intend to hurt him.”
This conversation was worse than Vir and six and three, because Delenn was looking at her with a sort of serene concern, as if Susan hadn’t just threatened her, as if this was about Susan’s vulnerabilities instead of her own. This was why Susan didn’t go in for relationship talk, because somehow it felt like Delenn was two seconds away from asking Susan about the demons that drove her to lash out at someone she cared for under the pretense of caring for someone else even more. Susan didn’t have the stamina for that today or probably ever.
“Good,” Susan said, nodding curtly. “I’ll hold you to that.”
Delenn nodded, an apology accepted and a willingness to let this moment go. Now they could discuss trade disputes with the Drazi, or whatever the hell was on the agenda today. Susan opened her mouth to address the page in front of them, but of course John picked that moment to round the corner into the room. Delenn broke into a face-altering smile like all evil had gone out of the universe, and John ducked his head and grinned, toothy and sheepish.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said. “I was working with Zack on some additional weaponry for the Narn.”
It was a perfectly reasonable explanation and a decent status update, but it wasn’t meant for Susan. They were just making small talk and smiling like lunatics. Susan sat back and sighed, resigned to having a front row seat to whatever this was. She really was going to have to ask.
**
She was going to have to ask. She didn’t want to ask. But it was serious, or headed toward serious, and someone needed to make sure they knew what that meant. The only someone possibly equipped for this was Susan, who was not feeling at all enthusiastic.
She and John were sharing dinner, each seated on opposite sides of his desk. They had spent too many hours on supply requisitions and rearranging docking slots and figuring out how not to starve. Susan had to agree with John that breaking away from Earth had more paperwork and bureaucracy than she had ever expected. Time for a break. She steeled her courage.
“So,” Susan said.
John raised his eyebrows. “Something on your mind?”
Susan opened her mouth. And closed it. She really had spent far too much time this week doing a poor imitation of an ugly fish. “I told Delenn if she hurt you, I’d have to kill her,” she said, the words falling out like a teenager’s confession after staying out too late.
Score one, at least John also looked like a startled flounder. “Susan,” he said sharply, and that finally got her going.
“I shouldn’t have said it,” Susan agreed. “But I do need to talk to you. You’re serious? You’re sure?” She looked around at his office, once a shrine to his accomplishments in Earthforce. The man who scored the only real victory against the Minbari–scoring again, her brain filled in, and Susan stifled the part of her that knew it was funny. But that didn’t make it not complicated as all hell.
“You’re really asking me this,” John said, sitting back in his chair and tossing his stylus on the desk. “You really think you have to ask me this.”
“I’m asking if I have to,” Susan said. “If it’s serious, if you’re both serious, and you’ve thought about all the possible political and military repercussions, and you’re not just thinking with your–”
“Susan,” John complained.
“–then no, I’m not asking,” Susan said. “Then I’m happy to watch you moon all over each other in important meetings.”
“I do not,” John said, and Susan held up her fingers, pinching with just the hint of space between them.
“Little bit,” she said and John tried to stare her down. It wouldn’t work; she was made of sterner stuff than that. Susan raised her eyebrows and John sighed, folding his hands in front of him before reaching for his stylus again.
“From a geopolitical standpoint,” John said drily, “I am sure no one would suggest that Starkiller should date the Minbari ambassador to Babylon 5.” He shrugged and his voice took on a sarcastic tone that Susan didn’t like. “Or maybe they would. Cement a strategic alliance at a time when we don’t have nearly as many allies as we need.”
“John,” Susan interjected, and he held up a hand.
“You asked if I’d thought about it,” John said. “All the possibilities.” He twirled his stylus between his fingers. “I’m not sure I’ve gotten to all–but sure, in between worrying about Earthforce trying to kill us and whatever the hell is going on out there with the Shadows and trying to keep Londo and G’Kar from murdering each other in the Zocalo, yes, I have considered that politically, pursuing a relationship with Delenn might be unwise.”
He glared at her a little, and Susan slumped in her chair. “I didn’t mean–,” she said, but she had intended the question with all its connotations, and he knew it. She shook her head. “Okay, fine,” Susan said. “All that potential complication. You think it’s worth it?”
He didn’t answer right away. Susan wasn’t sure if she had expected an emphatic, immediate yes or a casual shrug, but instead, John stopped and collected his thoughts. When he spoke, the frustration had leeched from his tone.
“When I started seeing Anna,” he said finally, quietly, “I didn’t know right away. She’d been friends with my sister for years, and I’d seen her at Thanksgivings and Christmases when she couldn’t get home. Lizzie said we’d be great together.” He smiled, and Susan could see that the hurt that used to linger at the edges when he talked about his wife had faded. “And we were, but it took time and work. It was not the best first date, or the best second date.”
He took a breath, and paused with a gentle smile, and Susan knew the next thing out of his mouth was going to be heartfelt and romantic and probably make her wish the reactor core would explode.
“With Delenn,” John said. “It isn’t anything yet. But I know.”
It was the same damn certainty she’d heard in Delenn’s voice, both of them so sure of things still yet to come. But what could Susan say? There was no warning anyone off, not that she wanted to–she just didn’t want to watch it all blow up, or to have to pick up the pieces when it did.
But maybe he was right. Maybe it would all work out, somehow.
“Okay,” Susan said, nodding with all the acceptance she could muster. “Then I’m not asking.”
“Okay,” John said, and peered at her, as if he wasn’t sure that was all she wanted to say.
Oh, it was. This was enough relationship-romance-whatever talk to last her at least a year, and almost none of it had been voluntary. Honestly, she probably needed some revenge for all this heartfelt soul-sharing surety. So maybe she wasn’t done.
“I did have a conversation with Vir,” Susan said, keeping her voice as level as possible. “Several actually.”
“And?” John was still wary.
“There are some perils of dating an alien,” Susan said. “Did you know Centauri males have six, um. Well, you know.”
John blinked. Less flounder, more cod. “Six,” he said.
Susan nodded emphatically. “Six,” she said. “Each one apparently is a different level of pleasure.” She paused just long enough for him to register, and went in for the kill. “You should probably make sure, if you can, that the Minbari don’t have anything that would make them, well, not compatible. I wouldn’t find tentacles–.”
“Out,” John said, pointing at the door.
Before Susan fled, she stopped to enjoy the look on his face. A little bit of panic, a little bit of something she didn’t want to acknowledge as curiosity. His eyes had widened and his ears turned red, and Susan wished for nothing else but a camera to capture the moment–for a picture to give to Delenn as an anniversary present one day, perhaps.
But for now, Susan scrambled out of her chair and John’s office, reveling in her victory. “Six!” she called out. His stylus clattered as it hit the door frame beside her, and Susan grinned and made a note to thank Vir for his contributions to cross-cultural learning.
***