Cosmic (18+)

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Charlie hastily left the bridge and made her way to the mess hall, impatient to start her day. When she entered, she saw most of her crewmates in a group of fifteen around a table, laughing and talking excitedly. One of them popped open a bottle of champagne and filled everyone's glasses. Her friend Laura noticed her first.

"Come over here and have a glass!" Laura called to her with a bright smile that lit up her grey eyes. Wisps of her curly brown hair framed her face, having fallen out of her bun.

Charlie grinned, walking over, "Is that cake I see?" Right in the center of the table was a big rectangular cake covered in chocolate frosting.

Michael, the one who opened the bottle, piped up like a mother hen, "No cake for you until you've eaten your breakfast."

She playfully rolled her eyes and went to grab her tray of food kept warm on the counter under heat lamps. Waffles, eggs, and sausage today. Yum.

When she returned to the table with her tray she sat down and gave a thankful smile to Laura who handed her a glass of champagne. She heard Archie, one of the oldest of the group in his early 50s, grumble a complaint about the heavier stuff not being allowed on board. She saw, to her amusement, that he'd already had his champagne and was pestering his twin brother Frederick for his glass. The twins were both blonde, blue-eyed, bearded, and built like a tank. Before they'd joined the mission they had been enthusiastic drinkers, to say the least.

Charlie finished her breakfast between sips of champagne, eyeing the cake like a vulture as Michael cut into it and served the others. Sweets weren't a common thing, only given out on special occasions like birthdays or holidays; it was always in moderation.

Her eyes lit up when he placed a slice on her tray. She thanked him and dug right in. Fuck. She almost moaned when the rich chocolate taste exploded on her tongue. How had she survived so long without this?

"This is so good!" she said once she swallowed. "Who made it?"

Her eyes caught the movement of a hand raised to her left. "That would be me," Beckett said with a proud grin on his face.

He was around her age at 26. They were the youngest aboard the ship. She remembered overhearing Stacy and Mariah talking about how they wanted to run their fingers through his dark curly hair and kiss his mocha skin, among other things she'd shut out from her memory. His honey brown eyes were handsome and kind, if not a bit mischievous. But Charlie was one of the few who knew those eyes weren't set on any woman. She caught him sneaking glances at the lean, blue-eyed brunette, Michael.

"You are now the most valuable asset on this ship," Charlie said playfully. She turned to the rest of the group, "Everyone! This man must not die."

"Here, here."

"I second that!"

"We will protect you with our lives," Laura added with a mock bow of her head towards Beckett.

He laughed and bowed his head back to the crew, "Thank you, thank you. Your protection is much appreciated."

"Your skills are much appreciated," Stacy said with a flirtatious smile which went purposefully unnoticed by the one intended to see it.

Charlie chuckled, downing the rest of her glass. There wasn't a crumb left on her tray.

All chatter stopped when the door to the mess hall hissed open. A pause. Then heavy bootsteps ambled closer with an air of command.

Everyone straightened up.

"Captain," Michael gave a respectful nod, the others following his example. He stood to his full height, the tallest among them.