Trill Pin-Up

"Spots and Dares"
a Starfleet Pin-Up Story

It started like plenty of nights off-duty: a few too many drinks in the lounge, a couple of games of Tongo, someone whispering about a bottle of real, non-replicated Risian rum — and suddenly Starfleet regulations felt... optional.

You’re a security officer. So is she.
Lieutenant Tiran, Trill, smart-mouthed when she wants to be, dead serious when it counts. The two of you have been assigned together for long enough to have swapped phaser fire, transporter mishaps, and more than a few close shaves on away missions.
You know the weight of her steps behind you in a firefight. You also know how she looks when the danger's passed and her laugh finally breaks through.

Tonight she’s in that regulation red dress — short, sharp, and just rebellious enough to make your collar feel tight. She catches you glancing. You pretend you're not.

Truth or Dare. Of course someone suggests it.
You both scoff. But you stay. She stays. A few rounds in, and your guard’s down, maybe lower than it should be.

Most of the crew stumbles off toward their quarters, and it’s just the two of you, nursing the last of the rum.

She stands, stretching lazily — the kind of stretch that says I’m done here — and turns to leave.

You should let her go. Keep it professional. Like always.

But something stupidly bold bubbles up.
“One last shot?” you offer. “Or a truth?”

She raises an eyebrow without turning fully around. “No more drinks. I’m still technically armed.”

You pause. Then, quieter, braver than you feel:
“Okay… then truth it is... Do your spots go all the way down?”

She stops.

For a moment, you think you’ve ruined everything — years of trust, camaraderie, all gone.

But then she looks back, eyes glinting.

“If you walk me to my quarters,” she says, “maybe you’ll finally find out.”

She walks ahead. You follow. Slowly. Carefully. Like it’s an away mission — and you’re about to cross into uncharted territory.