“Does he get that I’m a psychiatrist, not a morale officer?” Lieutenant Burke complained, absently tracing paths with the pads of his fingertips across the bare skin of Lieutenant Andrews’s bare chest. Captain Armstrong had ordered him to arrange a morale-boosting event for the crew, and the idea of planning a party was about as appealing to him as stepping out of an airlock without an EV suit. After a reprieve of enjoyable physicality with his husband, the oxytocin and afterglow were wearing off to the point that he was starting to get grumpy again. “How about a chess tournament?” he suggested.

Andrews chuckled, the mid-range timbre of his voice hitting Burke at the same time as he felt a deeper rumble within his partner’s chest from the way he was lying on top of him in the bedroom of their shared quarters. “I’m not sure that has the broadest appeal,” the other man said in the gentle tone Burke had come to associate with Burke Andrews him back down to Earth. “I think you’ve run into the number one rule with working for a Starfleet captain.”

“Namely?” Burke asked, sitting up a little to look Andrews in the eye.

“If you point out a potential problem, you’re going to be the one who has to solve it,” Burke said with a smile. “Psychiatrist or not, as ship’s counselor, you’re pulling triple duty as diplomatic officer and morale officer, too.”

Andrews scoffed and flounced back down on top of Burke’s chest, prompting his partner to run his fingers through his wavy brown hair. The two men had both started at Starfleet Academy in 2390 and were assigned as roommates. By the end of their first year, they were dating. By the time they graduated as ensigns, they were engaged. After Andrews spent four more years at Starfleet Medical Academy, adding a medical doctorate on top of his training as a counselor, and Burke earned one in linguistics, they were married. While Andrews finished a two-year residency in psychiatry at Starfleet Medical in San Francisco, Burke was assigned to the Starfleet Communications Research Center a few blocks away to help refine new universal translation algorithms. Now, the two of them were both on their first deep-space assignment together, and Andrews wasn’t sure that he’d understood what he was signing up for. Amazingly for a mental healthcare professional, he wasn’t exactly a “people person.”

“I just think he should have given this assignment to one of the jocks,” Andrews said.

“‘One of the jocks?’” Burke repeated.

“Vega or Windsor. They both have that ‘I was popular in high school’ energy to them. Windsor’s basically like a great, big golden retriever puppy, too,” Andrews clarified. He wrinkled his nose slightly. “They don’t give off ‘Starfleet’s Best and Brightest’ energy.”

Burke chuckled. “That’s a little harsh. You say the word ‘jocks’ like you didn’t marry one,” he reminded him.

“You have a doctorate in xenolinguistics,” the counselor replied.

“Windsor has the Starfleet Medal of Honor, and he outranks us even though he’s a year younger than we are,” Burke said, stroking his hair again. “I agree about the golden retriever thing, but I wouldn’t put him and Vega in the same category. Vega seems a little—”

“Vainglorious? Smug? Compensating for something?”

“I was going to say ‘insecure,’ but those words probably apply, too,” Burke agreed. He sat up to recline on the headboard between their bed and the viewports, slipping through Burke’s grip to leave his down near his navel. “Why are you acting like the gravity’s been turned all the way up, C.?”

“General ennui,” Burke replied, voice muffled. He remained where he was for a few more seconds before his brain complained loudly enough about the difficulty he was experiencing in taking in oxygen because of the way his face was mashed into Burke’s abs. He sat up, crossing his arms as he nestled himself in next to his husband, leaning against his side. “Isn’t my moodiness my most attractive quality?”

“The Greeks might say ‘Ἰατρέ, θεράπευσον σεαυτόν,’” Burke said, always prone to breaking out a Classical quotation where it might be even partially applicable. Andrews had only gone one semester into Greek—to try to impress Burke—and he was barely sure that the phrase was in that language, let alone attempt to translate it himself. “‘Physician, heal thyself,’” the linguist supplied.

“Hmm. I have another phrase for you: ‘do as I say, not as I do,’” Andrews said. “You’re such a nerd.”

Burke laughed. “Weren’t you just saying that’s what made you like me, even though I’m a ‘jock’?” he asked.

“Sort of—your nerdiness and jockitude balance each other out. It’s a yin-yang situation,” Andrews teased. He craned his neck up to kiss him briefly. “Or maybe like sea salt and chocolate.”

“I think the word you’re looking for there is ‘athleticism,’” Burke observed.

“Whatever,” Burke said, but the observation about different aspects of Burke’s personality and lifestyle coming together to form his extremely attractive husband gave him an idea. “Have you met Lieutenant Hidalgo, yet?” he asked.

“Yeah, at the gym,” Burke said.

“Of course,” Andrews said with a slight tut. “Well, he’s Windsor’s fiancé, and we could probably use at least one set of couple friends… Between the three of you, perhaps you would be a useful focus group to consider options for a morale-building exercise.”

“I might phrase it to them as your hope that they can help you brainstorm,” Burke suggested, being the wordsmith that he was. “But, that does sound like an elegant solution if you’re nervous about doing a good job with this,” he said, his voice creeping upwards in pitch and uncertainty towards the end of that sentence.

“I would dispute that, but you’re right,” Andrews replied. “Now, if the assignment were to optimize the crew’s brain chemistry, I’d be all aboard with some sort of atmospheric agent, but I don’t think that will cut it here.”

“Gassing the crew to make them forget about the Romulans is probably a bad idea, anyway,” Burke agreed. He pecked Andrews on the temple. “Well, my anti-social darling, let’s go see what the anthropomorphic golden retriever and his fiancé think.”

The recreation deck aboard the Antares was a large two-deck venue on the aft end of the saucer section, right above the aft torpedo launchers. Added during the ship’s most recent refit, it was one of many improvements that had been made to the ship’s ability to support its crew in comfort on long voyages. The lower level was just down the hall from the ship’s fitness facilities, and the upper level opened directly into the ship’s pool. While the ship also had a significant number of holosuites and two holodecks for large groups, the physical recreation spaces meant that more of the crew could exercise, relax, and/or get drunk at the same time.

Andrews and Burke were sitting on the lower level with Windsor and Hidalgo, getting to know one another over a glass of wine. While Andrews often found it difficult to open up to new people outside of a clinical setting, he found Windsor and Hidalgo to both be very easy to get along with. While Andrews and Burke were both more reserved, the other two men were on the more outgoing side and seemed to just have a more spontaneous quality.

“You never went to the rec deck on the Republic or the Exeter on your cadet cruise? Some of my favorite academy memories were playing shuffleboard,” Lieutenant Commander Windsor asked, looking genuinely surprised as he held a glass of wine in midair in front of his face. His other arm was draped on the back of the sofa he was sharing with Hidalgo, his absurdly long reach projecting an air of both strength and affability. “This has a lot in common with the old Constitution design. It’s an awesome throwback.”

“I didn’t do a training cruise on a starship. Just a few days at a time for the safety certifications,” Counselor Andrews explained; he had been marveling at how innovative the design seemed. He chuckled. “Clearly, I shouldn’t be making comments about astronautical engineering,” he offered.

“Don’t worry about it. Nate’s a big nerd when it comes to ships, and I say that as an actual engineer,” Hidalgo said, grinning at Andrews. “You’re right that this is an impressive design, though, not because of the architecture but because of how the Corps of Engineers managed to reduce the size of the fuel tanks that used to occupy this space without reducing our range.”

“That’s what they’ll be saying about the Antares all over the fleet: ‘Get a look at her petite fuel tanks!’” Windsor laughed before taking his long-paused drink of wine. “I’m glad you reached out. One of the most exciting parts of a new assignment is making new friends.”

“He’s so sensiblero,” Hidalgo said, teasing just slightly. Andrews agreed with that sentiment entirely, though something so sappy and saccharine seemed perfectly on-brand for Windsor to say. “Agreed, though.”

“A nuevos amigos,” Burke offered while raising his glass. The four men clinked their glasses together over the low table between them and then sat back. Andrews smiled when he felt Burke’s hand on his lower back. “I was on Spacedock before this, and this is Caden’s first deep-space assignment, so I’m sure we have a lot to learn from you,” he said to tee up the request Andrews was about to make.

“Specifically… What do you think might be a good activity to work on morale? The captain would prefer it if the Romulan ship wasn’t at the forefront of everyone’s mind,” the counselor asked. “I’m not really that kind of counselor. The hyper-social type.”

Hidalgo chuckled. “Isn’t that kind of like being a blind painter?”

“I prefer to think of myself as someone who defies expectations,” Andrews quipped.

“We generally like gatherings of this scale more than group events,” Burke clarified, gesturing to the four of them. Andrews could see the wheels in his mind whirling, though. “You mentioned shuffleboard earlier, though… I’m sure the computer could make that happen with the holoprojectors.”

Windsor’s eyes lit up. “I bet I’m not the only one who remembers that. A little friendly competition is a great way of building strong teams,” he said.

“Couldn’t that be a little… cruise ship?” Andrews asked as he chewed on his bottom lip.

“Why not lean in on that? A full Caribbean cruise experience: margaritas, dancing, and a shuffleboard tournament. Open up the doors to the pool upstairs, and bam: our very own Risa,” Hidalgo enthused. “With the right balance of chemicals in the environmental control systems, we can even add an ocean-scented breeze.”

“But without all the gross parts,” Windsor added.

“Yeah, just salt and flowers. Not fish leavings,” Hidalgo agreed.

The two men kept bouncing ideas off of one another while Burke tossed in a few of his own. Andrews was torn between slight alarm at how rapidly the three other men had begun to formulate a plan without him and satisfaction that he had found other people to arrange the social occasion for him. Almost all of it sounded like a specific version of Hell built just for him, though.

“You don’t look like you’re onboard, Caden,” Windsor observed, offering him an empathetic smile. “Sometimes, I can get a little carried away. I didn’t mean to hijack your project.”

“No, no. I’d be very happy just to let you do whatever you feel is best here,” Andrews replied. He swirled his wine a little. “It would be nice if there were something on offer for the introverts, though.”

“The two side lounges are more private. Cocktails and jazz in one?” Windsor suggested.

“And maybe chess and board games in the other?” Hidalgo added.

Andrews tossed an ‘I told you so’ look at his husband at the mention of chess, smiling as the idea really came together. After a few more minutes, the counselor was able to outline the full idea in a memo to the captain and first officer on his holoPADD.

“You two are probably the most efficient focus group I’ve ever facilitated,” the counselor noted.

“He’s joking,” Burke interjected. “In his weird little borderline-Machiavellian way.”

“I appreciate the insight,” Andrews said, hoping that sounded more sincere. “He thought my plan to just alter everyone’s brain chemistry with aerosolized psychoactive compounds was a step too far,” he added, getting a slightly nervous look from their two new friends and a nudge from his husband. “Also a joke. Psychiatrists are known for wanting to throw a drug at any problem we encounter.”

Windsor laughed. “You’re pretty unlikely to phase us; sarcasm is basically his first language,” he said, nodding to Hidalgo. “This is really all a set-up so I can wipe the deck with all of you at shuffleboard, you know.”

“‘Ship’s Shuffleboard Champion’ isn’t nearly as impressive as you think it is, babe,” Hidalgo said, shaking his head. He finished his glass of wine and set it down on the table. “So what’s next? Who’s up for tequila shots?”

Andrews and Burke looked at each other for a moment and then shrugged. Neither of them was particularly adventurous in that way, but it wasn’t often that they had a chance to make a good impression with new people on a new ship. Besides, at least to Andrews, the idea of spending the next two-and-a-half days accompanying a Romulan warbird fully sober was not appealing at all.

“Hit me,” Andrews said, smiling again.