Pushing Arms

Posted on 24 Mar 2015 @ 10:36pm by Lieutenant JG Grayson Jones
Edited on on 25 Mar 2015 @ 6:27pm

2,483 words; about a 12 minute read

Mission: Episode 08 - NIMBUS
Location: USS Galileo - Callisto Bar
Timeline: MD -02 2100

ON

Grayson had finally decided the Galileo was the ship designed specifically for him. Main Engineering, the workout room and the bar were all on the same deck. He contemplated how he could move his quarters down here and he would be set up for life. Long days shift, quick workout and then to the bar? Ideal for him.

Today had been on of those long days, he was slowly but surely still adjusting to being an acting Chief and running a department was proving more mentally taxing than he ever thought. It was the idea of relaxing in the bar at the end of the day that kept him going. Grayson was still looking to make more good friends here on the ship, maybe something more.

Two hours before he had to start his shift, Tyrion was going to have a late dinner since he'd been very busy this afternoon and had kind of forgotten to prepare his meal. So, deciding to go crazy for one evening, he decided to head out to Callisto bar and kind of have a gaze around.

He spent too little time among people as it was, and he found he missed Kot a great deal. He hadn't heard from the Bolian since he'd left the ship and Tyrion felt very lonely. He found a lonesome figure sitting at the bar and he approached, resting his hand on the stool next to him. "This seat taken?" he asked softly, almost shyly.

"It is now," Grayson replied, very warm and friendly...and this was before the alcohol took hold. He had to admit to himself, Tyrion was hot, very handsome. For now he decided to resist his usual flirtations, not that he didn't want to, he was just too tired at that point.

"Grayson Jones, Acting Chief Engineer, normal Assistant Chief. Nice to meet you," he extended a hand of friendship.

Tyrion hesitated for a moment, black eyes staring at the offered hand, before gingerly shaking it. "Tyrion Faye, intelligence officer," he said, then pulled his hand back and climbed onto the stool. He offered an embarrassed smile as his stomach churned loudly. "I'm sorry, I haven't eaten yet. Have you?"

"A while ago, I'm just having a few drinks to relax after a long day," Grayson said, studying the man ever so slightly, realising the man was a Betazoid and remembering to keep his emotions and thoughts in check. "So, Intelligence? Can't personally say I have had much experience with your department before, other than when ship systems get locked out for 'Intelligence purposes'."

"Hmm...I just sort files and listen in on the space chatter," Tyrion shrugged, "I track communications I suppose." He shrugged again. "I'm on duty in two hours, but I forgot to eat and I don't want to bother my roommate this late. I did enlist the help of engineering a while ago, when I needed filters to keep Tribble dander and fur out of our room. My roommate's allergic to any kind of fur."

"Oh, how could I forget!" Grayson mockingly hit his forehead. "It seems like that was an age ago...I must have so much in my head, I had forgotten, my apologies," Grayson added, he truly was forgetful sometimes but these days it seemed worse than ever.

"Oh it seems ages ago already so it's alright," Tyrion soothed playfully, "I'm not sure my roommate even remembers. But I do." He smiled brightly as he ordered his dinner, and a drink. "What're you having?" he asked, gesturing for the bartender to wait.

"My own variation on an Earth cocktail, I dubbed it 'The Perfect Man'", Grayson gave a small chuckle at his own inside joke. He called it that, as the drink was warm, smoothing and just enough fire to it, something he longed for in a partner, but had yet to find it. If he had to give the drink a personality, it would be very charming indeed. "Would you like the non-alcoholic version since you are starting your shift soon?" Usually in Grayson's book the words non and alcoholic never went together...a waste of a good drink.

"I think that might be wise," Tyrion answered, some of the brightness in his voice vanishing. "My boss'd never forgive me if I went on duty with alcohol in my blood. Or synthehol for that matter. Seriously, I can't afford any missteps, I've made enough as it is." He sighed softly then shook his head. "What's in the drink?"

"In mine; citrus vodka, blue curaao, lime juice and triple sec. In yours, if you order one; orange juice, lime zest, blueberry juice, mixed in with lots of ice to make it more a slush drink, topped off with some blue food colouring to try and match the look," Grayson smiled. "As for missteps, haven't we all?" He raised his glass in a faux toast as he went to take a rather large sip.

"Not as big as mine," Tyrion muttered as the bartender walked away to have their order seen to. "And that's a lot of fruit for a single drink...one might think it's actually healthy."

"I have ways and means of getting the nutrients I need without having to sacrifice flavour. All that working out can get boring if you have to sacrifice a lot to look a certain way," Grayson realised he was starting to sound like he was preaching. "That is to say, I like the way I am, but, I don't want to not enjoy the finer things in life." He gave a smile and a little flex of his torso muscles as he stretched out a stress induced sore neck.

Tyrion blinked in surprise. "Wow," he praised, "I bet you got a lot of work in that. I only do what I need to do, I don't spend a whole lot of time in the gym, but I don't really indulge either, I do often watch what I eat." He reached out, meaning to touch the man's bicep. "May I?"

"The gym is a big stress reliever for me, usually. My arm? Sure go ahead," Grayson flexed his right arm, he knew how to twist his arm so it made his muscles that little more firm. Twisting his hand back towards him, made his bicep pop just that little bit extra.

The Betazoid carefully squeezed the arm, a look of awe crossing his features. "Oh wow," he breathed, then flexed his own left arm. "I get nowhere near that," he added, feeling just a little intimidated. "You must be very strong..."

"Maybe, I've never really tested it," Grayson laughed. "If you ever want help, you know where to find me. I practically live on this deck."

"You do?" Tyrion put his hand back on the counter, though he still felt the tension in his arm. "Do you want to test it?" Though physically probably not up for it, Tyrion wasn't going to say no to a playful wrestle.

"Engineering, gym and bar all right here. I really just sleep in my quarters, and often, not for very long," a mischievous glint came across Grayson's eyes. "A test, sure...I don't want to hurt you though." He winked as he placed his own arm on the counter, ready for a match.

"You won't." Tyrion set his own arm on the counter and grasped the hand firmly. "You have an advantage though..." He grinned just as mischievously. "Apart from experience."

"Ready when you are," Grayson playfully taunted, his eyes narrowing, his mouth turning into a thin line of determination.

"I'm ready," the Betazoid laughed, his own eyes narrowing in return, watching his opponent intently. Watching, but not reading, though he wasn't going to tell Grayson that.

"Count of three?" Grayson asked as he linked hands. Admittedly, he got a little thrill out of joining hands with someone else, not that he was going to tell Tyrion that.

"One... Two..." Tyrion started, eyes never leaving the engineer's face. THrough their touch, he was aware of the feeling of excitement, but he chose to ignore it, chose not to let it distract him. "Three!" He started pushing with all his might, throwing his entire weight into it.

There was a bit of resistance in Grayson's hand. He began to push back, not to what he felt his maximum would be, but enough to hopefully turn the tide. His arm started to pop, his bicep pushing the fabric of his polo shirt up his arm. Grayson hoped potential dates were near by watching, hoping they would talk to him later about it, hoping of some further company for the evening, not just his drinks.

Gritting his teeth, Tyrion continued to push but the arm wouldn't budge. Instead, his own arm was moving in the opposite intended direction. "Hnggg," he muttered, knowing it sounded rather odd but he didn't care. He braced his feet against the foothold on the stool, to the point where it threatened to tip him over entirely, but still his arm was moving back. He was aware of a sense of hope, but he didn't understand it, and made no move to do so.

Grayson kept pushing, upping his level of effort. He felt his arm almost come down like a hammer unrelenting, unyielding force.

"Oof!" Tyrion grunted as his arm slammed down onto the counter, nearly twisting his shoulder right out of it's socket. "Wow...you really are strong, but like I said, you did have an advantage...I'm left-handed." He held up his left arm. "Wanna try again?" Not that he stood a chance...

Swapping arms on the bar, Grayson responded with a simple, "I'm game if you are." He left his hand open, waiting, playfully taunting like the first time.

Wiggling his fingers, Tyrion shifted and put his other arm on the counter, thoughtfully folding his fingers around the offered hand. He marveled at the soft skin, despite knowing the man was an engineer and probably worked a lot using his hands. His eyes traveled to the hand that held his own, his distraction evident.

"One, two, three, go!" Grayson said as he gently gave a little push, enough to know he meant business this time, to gauge Tryion's strength in this arm and how much force would be required.

Again, Tyrion pushed with all his might, trying his best to tip the arm over in the desired direction. The veins on his temples stood out, his black eyes narrowed in utter concentration now. The stool screeched across the floor as he pushed, his teeth grinding as he clenched them together.

Grayson could sense the, what he though was, fatigue. Thinking Tyrion was doing his best to hold on, Grayson used his full force this round. His other arm popped, the veins in his forehead began to show as the blood pulsed through.

Straining, Tyrion could feel his arm moving back but still he pushed with all the strength he could muster. THe muscles in his neck were straining, and he felt as though he might be crushing Grayson's hand the way he was gripping it. Still, his arm moved in the opposite direction, and his arm was starting to hurt, even worse than his right arm, which was still trembling from the strain.

His hand was not crushed, but it gave Grayson an idea, he gave an extra squeeze as he forced his arm towards the bar.

Tyrion yelped as his arm was suddenly twisted in the wrong direction.

Grayson instantly let go, "Oh I'm so sorry, are you okay?" He called to the bar for some ice and a cloth, just incase.

Grimacing and rubbing his shoulder, Tyrion nodded. "Yea I'm fine," he lied, not wanting to have him feel guilty over something he'd brought on over himself. "I wasn't prepared for my arm being smacked down then and there." He tried to move his arm and winced. "Oh okay...not so fine I guess....shoulder hurts like hell."

"Here, come closer," Grayson said as he sorted the ice into the cloth. "This will reduce the pain and any swelling. You will need to lower the collar of your uniform so we can get this directly onto your skin. Will be cold, but it is going to be worth it."

Unzipping his jacket, Tyrion shrugged out of it, then loosened the collar of his under shirt, baring his shoulder. Visually, there was no sign of any damage, but Tyrion sure felt it. "Don't feel guilty about it," he advised without thinking. "It's not your fault."

Grayson for in a little closer and pressed the cold compress onto Tyrion's skin. He looked him in the eyes and waited for the sudden realisation of cold and pain. "I shouldn't have pushed as hard," he continued, trying to keep his mind distracted.

"Excitement does that," Tyrion countered, hissing as the cold penetrated his skin, flaring up the pain before starting to diminish it. He returned the gaze just as intently. "I try hard not to read minds," he added, "but accidents happen. That's what this is sir, just an accident."

"That's okay. I usually say I'm as easy as a book to read anyway. I tend not to be able to hide much, even if I wanted to," Grayson blushed. "I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all, you are who you are," Tyrion replied, realizing that he was one to speak - ever hiding his (untrained) abilities. He smiled slightly as he noticed the rosy discolouration on the man's cheeks. Reaching up, he brushed the back of his fingers over one of them. "You're cute when you blush," he murmured, breaking eye-contact.

It was instinct more than anything else, reaction, not thought...Grayson went in and stole a quick kiss. He did not break eye contact, nor would he apologise, "So are you," Grayson whispered back.

Now it was Tyrion's turn to blush; he certainly wasn't used to being kissed just like that. Unlike Grayson, he did break eyecontact, but only for a moment. The brief touch of skin, it was as if a small current had passed between them and Tyrion brought up his hand to touch the spot. "That was...odd," he admitted, shivering as the cold from the ice really got into his system now. "Odd...but not unpleasant."

Grayson smiled, "Well, I do try me best." He finished with a charming smirk and a playful wink.

"Best of what?" The Betazoid looked flustered, and didn't really know how to hold himself anymore so he was grateful for the waiter's interruption with the arrival of his food.

"To make things as unpleasant as possible, but never mind," was the only response he could think of.

OFF:
CPO Tyrion faye
Intelligence Officer
USS Galileo
[PNPC T'Vanna]

Lieutenant JG Grayson Jones
Chief Engineering Officer
USS Galileo

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