(c) 1998 Jungle Kitty
Star Trek and its characters are the property of Paramount. This not-for-profit piece of fan fiction is not intended to infringe on that ownership. The author's copyright applies only to the creative content and her original characters.
This story is one in a series about the relationship between James Kirk and Suzanne Brandt. The Kirk-Brandt Chronology lists all the stories, both in order of occurrence and order of creation.
This story was written as a response to an ASCEM challenge: a traditional wedding for two Star Trek characters. I just couldn't resist this challenge. But as of this writing, this does not occur in the "standard" Kirk/Brandt universe. So this is a dream or a fantasy or an alternate universe. I've temporarily suspended the overall storyline, just for the fun of it.
Kirk paced the length of his quarters several times before deciding to take the bull by the horns. He punched the comm link and said, "Bridge. Communications."
"Kirk here, lieutenant. Contact Captain Brandt, Earth, Special Ops, and pipe it down to my quarters."
"Jim, what's up? You look like hell."
"Just a little hung over. Everyone on Starbase 3 insisted on buying me a drink last night. Suzanne, remember last week when we decided to get married, and you wanted me to beam to the Devereaux with you for a quick ceremony? The Dev had just had a change of command, and..."
He trailed off, embarrassed.
"And we decided it wasn't a good idea to have one of your ex-girlfriends perform the ceremony. Yes, I remember."
"We should have done it."
"What are you talking about?"
"Admiral Nogura just contacted me. He thinks it would be good public relations if we had a formal wedding."
"Apparently, Starfleet has been taking a lot of heat from the media and could use something positive. And that's where we come in."
"Well, we *are* two of the most decorated officers."
"You didn't agree to it, did you?"
"I told him that we would consider it."
"No. The answer is no."
"Suzanne, he's my CO."
"I don't care if he's god almighty--"
"Just think a minute. They'll owe us *big* if we do this. They're willing to pay for everything. And it might go a long way towards soothing the troubled waters between Command and Special Ops."
"Brandt," he cajoled sweetly. "You're the one who loves all that pomp and circumstance. Think of it. The Academy chapel. Full dress uniforms. A ceremony by the fleet chaplain--"
"At least you never dated her," she grumbled. "Did you?"
"Well..." Her eyes narrowed and she said firmly, "I'm not wearing white."
Kirk shrugged. "Neither am I."
"I don't believe this," she muttered. "Suddenly our wedding is a career move."
"Just promise me your wedding dress won't have epaulets."
"You're not in a position to ask for special favors. Has the old man set a date?"
"We didn't discuss it. And since you're stationed on earth and I'm not, I was hoping you'd take care of all that."
"You're really pushing your luck, mister." She shook her head incredulously. "All right. I'll take care of it."
"Now," she said briskly. "We have to decide how to get the most out of this."
"Don't worry. I'll make it very clear to the admiral that we're accepting this highly undesirable assignment only to demonstrate our deep loyalty to the fleet."
"Good. And then get him to agree to a one-month honeymoon. At Starfleet's expense."
Kirk chuckled. "I'm going to like being married to you, Brat. You're thrifty, as well as devious."
* Personal Log, James T. Kirk *
Four hours before the scheduled ceremony at the Academy chapel, the Enterprise was creeping towards earth at warp 2. We'd sustained severe damage while monitoring a rare instance of pre-matter in its developmental phase. The unstable process had literally blown up in our faces, and nearly every shipboard system was malfunctioning to some extent. Most worrisome to me personally was the fact that subspace communications had been out for five days.
I was listening to a voice in the back of my head chant, "Come on, come on," when Uhura announced that she'd restored audio. I had her contact Suzanne immediately. When she came on, there was so much static that we had to shout at each other. I explained what had happened and asked if we were still on for that afternoon.
She said the wedding was scheduled for 1800.
I asked Spock for an ETA. 1752.
I told her I would contact Nogura to waive all the red tape and beam directly to the chapel. She offered to postpone if I needed more time. I remember the bridge crew grinning when I shouted, "I'll *be* there" into the comm panel.
I changed into my dress uniform as the Enterprise was towed into spacedock. When Spock, McCoy, and I materialized on the sidewalk near the chapel, we were greeted by Commodore Robert Wesley. Apparently he'd been filling in as an usher since none of my people were available.
"Jim, you've just lost me a hundred credits," he said as he shook my hand.
"You bet on my wedding?"
He explained that half the fleet had money on which of us would call it off.
"Thanks, Bob," I said sourly. "That's just the sort of reassurance I need right now."
Mom and Suzanne's brother Dennis came out of the chapel.
"Cutting it a little close, aren't you, Jim?" Mom asked as she hugged me.
I asked how Suzanne was.
"Well, let's see," Dennis said. "For the past few days, she's been *very quiet*. But after you checked in today, we were treated to an ear-splitting rendition of something called 'Chapel of Love.' Jim, you're aware that my sister sings in the key of M, aren't you?"
"Considering that she hadn't heard from you in nearly a week," Mom said pointedly, "I think she showed remarkable restraint. I'll tell her you're here."
After she went inside, Dennis handed me a large package and told me it was a gift from Suzanne. I opened the box and found a dress uniform.
At first I was a little insulted. Didn't she think I had any sense? Then I saw the card.
Dennis directed me to a small room just inside the doorway, and I changed. The difference was amazing. For the first time in my career, I had a dress uniform that didn't make me feel like I was in a bad bondage tri-vee. I felt like a new man.
When I came out, I heard Bones assuring Spock that there would be no bloodshed at this wedding.
Suddenly, a door on the side of the building burst open. Suzanne exploded out of it, picked up her skirt, and sprinted across the lawn. I took three steps toward her, and then she was in my arms.
I kept trying to kiss her, and she kept trying to say, "You're here. You're here." Finally, we managed to coordinate our actions enough to satisfy us both.
Then I held her at arm's length and looked at her. From head to toe, she was dressed in burnished gold. The elegant gown was very flattering and the sound of the fabric rustling as she moved was surprisingly enticing, but it was not at all what I expected.
"I thought this was a military wedding," I said.
"Why do you think I wore gold?"
I knew exactly why. Gold for command, as in 'the bride outranks the groom by two and half weeks.' I probably deserved it for dumping this entire thing on her, but still...
"Smart ass," I said as I playfully slapped that part of her anatomy. She yelped a little louder than necessary, so I decided that made us even. I pointed out that she wasn't wearing any of her decorations.
"I wore the only one that matters," she said.
She touched a small locket at the base of her throat. I hadn't seen it in years, not since Gary and I gave it to her at graduation. I remembered having the date engraved on the inside, right above the infinitesimally small chip of dilithium. I closed my hand around hers and kissed her fingertips, thinking that gold really was her color.
"So what do you think of your wedding gift?" she asked.
"Very nice. How'd you manage to have it made without my measurements?"
Bones stepped forward and said in a low voice, "In your last physical, captain, not all the readings I took were medical."
"You *measured* me?"
"He didn't want to, JT," Suzanne piped up. "When I first asked, he said, 'Damn it, I'm a doctor, not a tailor.'"
I should never have told her that he says things like that.
"I don't have a gift for you," I confessed awkwardly.
"Yes, you do. You're here."
"Letting me off easy?"
"Not at all. A gift should reflect the personality of the giver and bring joy to the recipient. Your presence--pardon the pun--qualifies on both counts."
"What aspect of my personality does it reflect?"
"Flair. Arriving like the cavalry at the very last minute has James T. Kirk written all over it. But I was starting to get a little worried."
I told her I would never break my word to her.
"I know that," she said, "but, Jim, I took *every* bet. If you hadn't shown up, I'd be facing bankruptcy. But now--we could be independently wealthy."
An officer I'd never seen before hurried down the steps and introduced himself as Commander Prentiss from the Office of Protocol. He was short, bald, and extremely nervous.
"It may be our wedding, Jim, but it's *his* show," Suzanne joked. "See you inside?"
We kissed once more as Prentiss fidgeted and pleaded, "Captain Brandt, *please* hurry! We still have to put on your veil!"
She hugged me and whispered, "Watch this." She turned to Prentiss and said in her most no-nonsense voice, "I've decided against the veil."
"But, Captain Brandt, you must--you can't--you're the *bride*!" he wailed as he hastened after her.
"I'm sure everyone will figure that out when I come down the aisle," she called over her shoulder as she disappeared through the doorway.
I laughed aloud. Suzanne and a wedding coordinator. What I wouldn't have given to be a fly on the wall in those meetings.
Spock came up behind me and said, "Captain, I have just been informed of a most intriguing situation. Of course, it may be an exaggeration--"
"What is it, Spock?"
"According to Chaplain Colton, when Commander Prentiss was first given this assignment, he was six-foot-two and had a full head of hair."
* Personal Log, Suzanne Brandt *
I remember it was warm in the chapel. I remember music and the fresh scent of the flowers. I remember everyone rising and Prentiss whispering, "Go! Go!" I remember wishing we'd been married on the Devereaux, no matter who officiated. I remember Jim's eyes on me, sparkling with pride. I remember being awestruck by how handsome and self-assured he looked. I remember wishing I'd broken in my shoes properly. I remember when Jim took my hand, and how relieved I was that his palm was sweaty, too.
But, for all I know, we may have vowed to beat each other every day and twice on Sunday. Because once the ceremony started, I really don't remember anything at all until the holograph on the steps.
We came out of the chapel under crossed sabers. Jim had told me that only Sulu would enjoy that, but he was wrong. I've never seen such a collection of shit-eating grins in my life. Even Spock looked amused, in a solemn, Vulcan sort of way.
We stopped at the bottom of the steps, and the holographer started fussing at us. He finally got us posed the way he wanted--Jim standing slightly behind me with his hands on my waist. I felt something hard pressing against me as Jim whispered in my ear, "I want you. Very soon."
The holographer took the picture.
It's Jim's favorite. He even wanted to put it up on the mantle until I pointed out how blatantly carnal our expressions were. Not the image to present to dinner guests. Finally he agreed that the bedroom was a better place for it. He says that, years from now, when we're tired of each other, it will inspire us.
* Personal Log, James T. Kirk *
After the holograph, Suzanne asked, "How are we going to get out of here without you embarrassing yourself?"
"Very quickly," I replied.
I scooped her up in my arms, and she draped her skirt to cover me. I carried her to the limosine, slid into it, and pulled her in after me. The door shut, and we fell on each other as the limo began moving. She broke away and pressed the destination controls. I asked where we were going.
"We *were* going to the reception. *Now* we're going to the apartment."
I flipped open my communicator and asked Spock to inform our guests that we were going to be delayed and they should start without us. I heard McCoy laughing as I ended the communication.
I adjusted the windows to full opacity, pushed Suzanne down on the seat, and pulled up her skirt.
"Jim! Not here!" she squeaked.
"Yes, here. When's the last time you did it in a limo?"
That settled it. Every wedding night should include at least one first. I opened my pants and pulled aside the crotch of her panties. She gasped in a way that I hadn't heard in some time. Pure, delighted surprise.
Usually I slid into her very easily. But this time, she was barely moist and I hesitated. Then she lifted her hips and whispered, "Yes." I made a mental note to occasionally skip foreplay and went ahead.
I felt a familiar slickness gathering around my cock as we ravished each other's mouths. And then she squeezed me. Hard. *There*.
"Suzanne," I groaned. "Stop."
The tease did it again.
"*That*. Unless the only thing you want to do at the apartment is take a shower--"
We lay very still for the rest of the journey, covering each other's faces with kisses and fighting the urge to do more.
When we got to the apartment building, we straightened our clothes and hurried to the lift where I removed my boots as Suzanne tore at my shirt. We tumbled into the apartment and fell over the dog. Sprawling on the floor, we continued pulling at each other's clothes while Luke danced around us. I pushed him away.
"He wants to say hello to you," Suzanne explained breathlessly as she stripped off my shirt.
"I'm still saying hello to *you*."
I fell back against the door as I pulled her into a long, deep kiss. When we came up for air, I undid the back of her dress. She stood and stepped out of it, stretching luxuriously as it floated to the floor.
When we first met, I thought she was striking, and, later, I thought she was beautiful but, at that moment, she took my breath away. Strong, proud, and exuberantly female, she was so much more than desirable that I wished I had a new way of expressing all that she aroused in me. The late afternoon sun coming through the windows accentuated her delicious curves and set her skin aglow. Her eyes sparkled like gemstones and her smile was as giving as it was enticing. I had never seen anyone more vibrantly alive.
She pulled me to my feet and whispered, "Welcome home."
* Personal Log, Suzanne Brandt *
Jim's mouth was on mine as we stumbled around the living room, undressing each other. I couldn't stop touching him, kissing him, savoring the reality of him. As I undid his pants and ran my hands down his hips, I thought how glad I was that we'd chosen to honeymoon in Greece. What better setting for this golden sculpture of a man.
As I wrapped my hand around his cock, still wet from that incredible joining in the limo, he gave a deep groan of satisfaction. I made some strange noise in response, a sound I had never heard before, had never even known was within me. I wanted him in every way possible. I wanted to feel his breath in my lungs, I wanted to capture the sight of him with my eyes. I wanted him to fill me up and inhabit me forever.
I took his cock in my mouth and feasted on him until he gasped and pulled me to my feet. He kissed me hard, harder than he ever had, as he backed me toward the bedroom. I knew he could taste himself in my mouth, and the very thought sent me reeling. My knees buckled, and he carried me into the bedroom and set me down on the bed.
Frantic to end the long months of separation, I reached for him, but he pushed me down gently. Then he knelt at the foot of the bed and kissed my toes. I rolled over and moaned into the pillows.
Now, I pleaded silently. Now, now, now...
By the time he kissed the back of my knee, I wanted him so badly that I was almost in tears. Then he turned me over and lay between my legs. I could feel his cock seeking me, and I pressed upward, trying to take it inside me.
"Suzanne," he said quietly.
That was all. Just my name.
I stopped moving, and he looked into my eyes, wordlessly offering me more than just physical pleasure. No touch, no act of lovemaking would ever equal what I saw in the depths of his steady gaze--the gift of himself and all that he was. I realized that what we had been to each other in the past was simply a prologue to what we became at that moment. I prayed that my eyes spoke as openly and eloquently as his.
I don't know how long we lay together that way, but when he took my hand and pressed it to his mouth, I felt as if I'd traveled a great distance and finally come home.
He kissed the gold band on my finger and whispered, "With this ring I thee wed..."
He caressed me tenderly, smiling softly as he studied me with his hands.
"With my body I worship thee..."
He twined our fingers together and clasped my hands to his chest.
"With all my worldly goods, I thee endow..."
He knelt between my legs and lowered his body to mine.
"I, James, take thee, Suzanne..."
And he did.
* Personal Log, James T. Kirk *
We knew that walking into our wedding reception almost two hours late not going to be easy. And when we did, the guests stood and applauded. But Suzanne's exec topped it all with Special Ops' "gift."
Commander Wallis stood in front of the bandstand grinning devilishly as he asked us to step to the center of the dance floor.
"Captain Brandt. Knowing your fondness for old-fashioned music and not having much else to do after finishing this lovely dinner, Special Ops offered these fine musicians a little inducement to search their memories for an appropriate song for your first dance."
The band started playing a sinuous ballad that I didn't recognize, but, after just a few bars, Suzanne did. She turned very red and muttered, "I'll kill him."
"What is it?"
"Just keep dancing. Maybe no one will recognize it."
Just then, the vocalist began singing in a husky voice infused with sexual longing.
"Kiss me once, and kiss me twice,
Then kiss me once again.
It's been a long, *long* time."
I couldn't hear the rest of the words over the cheers, whistles, and catcalls.
* Personal Log, Suzanne Brandt *
When this particular operation was in the planning stages, everyone kept telling me it was going to be my day. I could have anything I wanted. No one can refuse the bride anything.
It sure didn't feel like it.
I'd left most of the details to Commander Prentiss--the invitations, the flowers, the menu. I was adamant about only two things--my dress and the music at the reception.
I tried to get the Drunken Heat Weasels, San Francisco's most popular dance band, but they were booked a year in advance. They recommended a new group, Phoning the Czar. I asked the booking agent what the name meant, but he just smiled and played me their demo, which was impressive. Their playlist was a good balance between upbeat tunes, appropriate to a celebration, and romantic classics, appropriate to, well, romance. Perfect.
The problem was I rarely got to dance with Jim.
From the minute they finished playing "It's Been a Long, Long Time," we were dragged here, pushed there, told to pose this way, shake that hand, and forced to fulfill some misguided social obligation to dance with everyone except each other.
So when they played "What You Do to Me," I danced with my CO. I was with Jim's nephew Peter during "A New Kind of Love." I found myself in the arms of my first officer for "Midnight on Risa."
By the time I danced with Admiral Nogura--to "Bad Girl Blues," of all things--I was so frustrated that I almost ended up on report. He asked what we planned on doing about names and I'm sorry to say my reply was more smart-ass than tactful.
"Well, I'll be Suzanne, and he'll be Jim."
The admiral gave me a sharp look, and I quickly back-pedalled.
"We're not making any changes, sir. We decided that Brandt-Kirk sounds like a dessert, and Kirk-Brandt sounds like a docking maneuver."
He laughed, and I think I was forgiven. After all, I was the bride.
Right after that, they played "Starlight Serenade," and I was determined to be with no one but Jim for that. But what can you do when the Commander-in-Chief asks you to dance?
God bless Admiral Henry. He danced with me for no more than thirty seconds and then said, "Thank you, Captain. You're dismissed."
"Go dance with your husband. That's an order."
I flew across the floor and cut in on Jim and Admiral Sue. Mary and I had settled our differences years ago, and she was very gracious about it.
Jim took me in his arms and... well, I hardly know how to describe it. We were together, holding each other, swaying gently, but you couldn't call it dancing. It was more like heaven.
When the song ended, the band swung into "Warp 9," and neither of us danced with anyone else the rest of the night.
* Personal Log, James T. Kirk *
I tossed the garter, which was caught by McCoy. Suzanne threw the bouquet, which was caught by my Aunt Felicia. We broke tradition by cutting the cake with a phaser that Scotty had micro-tuned to a delicate beam that sliced cleaner than a laser-knife. The one remaining reporter thought that was a great hook for his story.
Finally, we could relax.
I sat down at a table with my officers. Suzanne fell into my lap, with a sigh of relief. She slipped off her shoes, put her feet up on the empty chair next to mine, and groaned, "Oh, yes."
Her brother Dennis came over and kissed the top of her head. Then he poured us each a glass of champagne. Even though we were both a little giddy from similar actions by other guests, we managed not to spill any as we raised our glasses and saluted each other. Then she settled into my arms, and I took her hand and admired the gold ring that I'd put there.
Earlier I'd told her what was engraved on the inside--My heart untraveled. She was very touched that I'd remembered. But before I could ask her if she'd had anything inscribed on mine, the toasts started.
Deciding to take advantage of this rare quiet moment, I twisted the ring around her finger and asked what was engraved inside mine.
She smiled wickedly and asked if I really wanted to know. I said yes, realizing too late that everyone else at the table was listening to our conversation.
"It says, `Put it back on,'" she said. "And if I ever find out that you've read it, you're a dead man."
Sulu spit champagne a good twelve feet, Spock arched both eyebrows, and the others almost fell off their chairs laughing. I told her I'd take her word for it.
"Actually," she said, "your ring has the same inscription as mine. Amazing, isn't it?"
We smiled at each other, rather idiotically, I suppose. I think we were a little surprised by how much that couplet of Oliver Goldsmith's meant to us.
Uhura bailed us out by changing the subject.
"Captain, how did the two of you meet?"
"At the Academy."
"Tell her how," Suzanne said. "Warp Physics, remember?"
I laughed, suddenly recalling that day.
"You tell it, Brat. I've never heard your version."
She cleared her throat and launched into a story that I suspected she'd been saving up for quite some time.
"Freshman year, first day of classes, Warp Physics. I sat down next to a cadet who introduced himself as Gary Mitchell. We chatted for a few minutes, and then someone sat down next to me. I turned and saw this *child*--"
"I was sixteen--"
"As I was saying...I saw this child. I said, 'Hello, little boy--'"
"You did not say 'Hello, little boy.'"
"All right. I said, 'Hello. I'm Suzanne Brandt.' Just then the instructor started talking, and this *infant* shushed me."
"It's funny. I remember thinking, 'Gee, for an old hag of eighteen, she carries her age pretty well.'"
"Good one, Jim!" Dennis said. "You deserved that, Suzanne."
She gave him a withering look and continued with the story. "I looked at his name tag. Cadet James T. Kirk. 'T for twit,' I thought."
That got a big laugh. I pinched her and said, "Just get on with it."
"Well, the instructor was about 175 years old and she mumbled and had a very heavy accent--"
"She was speaking quite clearly--"
"And she kept drawing these bizarre diagrams and showing out-of-focus slides. I was completely lost. So after about ten minutes, I looked to my right, and there was Jim, nodding his head and taking notes. And I thought, 'Oh my god, the *kindergardener* understands all this.'
"Just then, Mitchell pushed his padd toward me. He'd drawn a tic-tac-toe. So I knew that he didn't understand any of it either, and we started playing. The next time class met--"
"Don't forget the data wafers."
"I'm getting to them. The next class, I tried to listen for about ten minutes. Again, nothing. And Mitchell drew up Battleship on his padd, so we played for the rest of class. After that, we didn't even try. We'd just sit down and start playing a game. And once or twice every class, these handouts and data wafers came around, and Mitchell and I shoved them into our study bags. I went through them after class, and some of it made a little sense.
"Well, this went on for about two weeks. Until one day, we were setting up to play Initials when Jim handed me a stack of disks. I took one and passed the rest to Mitchell. I was reaching down to put it into my pack when Jim grabbed my arm and growled, 'It's a test, you *idiot*.'"
"How romantic," Bones commented.
"Isn't it? And it gets even better. Cadet Kirk got two demerits and was thrown out of class for talking after the test had been distributed!"
Everyone roared. I remember Uhura laughing so hard that she had to wipe tears from her eyes.
"Well, Gary and I felt awful. He flunked the test and I barely squeaked by, but poor JT never even got to take it. So that night, we went to his room to apologize. Then we took him out and got him drunk."
Chekov was shocked. "Keptin Brandt. You supplied a minor with alcohol?"
Suzanne smiled proudly. "*And* talked him into tutoring us."
"And a more thankless task I never had," I said.
"Thankless?" She began ticking off items on her fingers. "The three of us became the best of friends. We all passed the class. The next semester, you and Gary started rooming together. And if it hadn't been for us, you would've never developed any personality at all."
"And, in the end," I reminded her, "I got the girl."
Someone tapped a spoon against a glass, but it didn't matter. I would've kissed her anyway.
"No more champagne," I said as I pushed her glass out of reach. "We're going home."
Breaking from the tenderest of kisses, Suzanne rested her head against Jim's chest. They had lain together like this on countless occasions, holding each other in the soft aftermath of lovemaking. But somehow, it was different this time.
Sharing love and a bed, surrounded by the comforting darkness that shut out everything else, they silently explored the texture and dimension of the promises they'd made.
After idly playing with her hair for several minutes, Jim said, "I want to hear you say it, Suzanne."
"All right. I love you."
"I love you, too, but that's not what I meant."
"Then what did you mean?"
He whispered the longed-for phrase.
"Oh no. Not that."
"Come on, say it. Just once," he murmured seductively.
He heard her sigh and felt warmth against his shoulder as the color rose in her face.
After several false starts and a stern warning against laughing, she finally said it, almost managing to hide the quiet contentment underscoring the words.
"Mrs. James T. Kirk."
He hugged her hard and relaxed against the pillows.
"Now it's your turn," she said. "And say it like you mean it."
Kirk cleared his throat.
"Mr. Suzanne Brandt."
He didn't bother to conceal his pride at those words.
Where'ere I roam, whatever realms I see,
My heart untravell'd fondly turns to thee.
--Oliver Goldsmith, The Traveller
There are three sequels to this story: The Seven-Pound, Two-Ounce Sequel , The Littlest Crewman and Schrödinger's Christmas Present.
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