My Star Trek One-Shots

Scotty - Impulse Power

Montgomery Scott was many things—a miracle worker, a master of warp drive, a connoisseur of good scotch—but one thing he wasn't accustomed to was losing control of a situation. Which is why the moment she walked onto the Enterprise, he knew he was in trouble.

Lieutenant Commander Teyla Zire, recently transferred from the USS Raleigh, had sharp eyes, sharper wit, and the kind of presence that turned heads in the corridor. She was Kellerun, with deep olive skin, facial ridges framing her cheekbones, and short-cropped black curls. Scotty saw her first at a systems briefing. She was efficient, curt, brilliant—and completely uninterested in him.

"Engineering's runnin' smooth as a dilithium dance," Scotty had said with a grin that he thought was winning.

She gave him a sideways glance. "Good. I'd hate to see what it looks like when it's not."

The others in the room chuckled. Scotty flushed but held onto his smile.

Over the next week, he made every excuse to cross paths with her: running diagnostics in her lab, volunteering for bridge shift overlaps, even rerouting a maintenance check just to "happen" by her workstation.

Each time, she saw right through him.

"Commander Scott, if I didn't know better," she said one day, "I'd think you were following me around like a lovesick targ."

"I'm just a friendly sort," he replied, wagging his brows. "Surely I'm not so unpleasant to be around?"

"No," she said, smirking faintly. "You're amusing, in small doses."

It became a game—one she seemed to enjoy just as much as he did. He'd flirt; she'd roll her eyes. He'd offer a drink; she'd turn him down flat. But always with that little glint in her eyes.

Then came the quiet night.

The mess hall was nearly empty—just a few night-shift crew eating in silence, and one off-duty bartender humming while he cleaned. Scotty nursed a glass of scotch at the bar, the real kind, not synthohol. He'd managed to stash away a few bottles from shore leave and was generous with it, especially when trying to impress someone.

She walked in, wearing civilian blacks and a ponytail, off-duty and stunning. She raised a brow at him, as if she expected to see him there. Maybe she had.

He raised his glass. "Care to join me?"

Teyla hesitated, then walked over, sliding into the seat beside him. "One drink," she warned.

"One's all it takes," he said with a wink, pouring her a glass.

The first drink turned into two. Then three. The room emptied further. The bartender left them to it. The dim lights cast warm shadows, and the buzz of ship systems was the only soundtrack. They talked—about warp engines, battle drills, old postings. He told her about his first love: a brand-new Type-F shuttle. She laughed and sipped her drink, cheeks flushed with warmth.

"You're relentless, you know that?" she said, swirling the scotch in her glass.

"Aye. But you haven't run away yet."

"I like watching you try."

He leaned closer, heart beating fast. "Then maybe it's time I stop trying and do."

She didn't move away. Her gaze met his—steely, amused, and full of fire. And then, she kissed him.

The scotch between them tasted like smoke and promises. Her fingers tangled in his shirt; his hands cradled her face. The mess hall faded. The next thing Scotty knew, they were stumbling down the corridor, laughing, breathless. Her hand pulled him into his quarters. The door hissed shut.

It was desperate. Hungry. Clumsy in places but full of heat. She was as commanding in bed as she was on duty, and he gladly surrendered control. They collapsed under the covers, tangled limbs and breathless sighs, and for once, Scotty stopped thinking about the engines and gave himself over to the moment.

The lighting was set to "dim." Scotty blinked awake, head pounding and mouth dry. He groaned softly, reaching for the nearest glass of water. The movement jostled the figure beside him.

Teyla stirred, sat up slowly, and winced. "Stars, that scotch hit hard."

"You've a constitution like a warp core, and you're telling me that hit hard?" he croaked, half-laughing.

They both looked down—sheets barely covering them. Scotty's cheeks flushed as he scratched the back of his head.

"Well," he said. "That happened."

"Mm-hmm," Teyla replied, laying back against the pillow. "It did."

Silence stretched between them, thick with the weight of what came next. Scotty swallowed.

"So . . . no regrets?"

She turned her head toward him, eyes clearer now. "None. You?"

"None at all. Though I may never drink again."

She chuckled. "Liar."

"Aye, fair," he grinned, then hesitated. "I meant what I said, y'know. I do like you."

"I know."

He raised an eyebrow. "Still not running?"

Teyla shifted under the covers, sitting up to face him properly. "I've done the casual thing before. It always ends messy. I'm . . . cautious."

"You think I'm not?" he asked softly. "You're smarter than me, faster, deadlier in hand-to-hand . . . I'm terrified of you."

She smirked. "Good."

Scotty laughed. Then sobered.

"I'm not askin' for a marriage contract," he said. "But I'd like to see where this could go. Take you out for real. Sober. Maybe even dance a bit if you don't mind a man with two left feet."

Teyla studied him, arms crossed over her knees. Then, with surprising softness, she said, "All right."

"Yeah?"

"But you still have to earn it," she added. "This wasn't a prize. It was . . . a spark. Now you have to show me the rest."

"Challenge accepted," he said, beaming.

They spent the rest of the day lazing in bed, the hum of the ship their lullaby. They ordered breakfast—twice—and swapped stories from the Academy and first assignments. Scotty told her about his failed transporter experiment that turned a tribble inside-out. She nearly choked laughing.

She confessed she'd almost become a tactical officer instead of engineering, but realized she didn't want to just destroy things—she wanted to build them. That answer stuck with Scotty long after they'd finished talking.

By afternoon, they were curled up together, quietly watching a projected starfield across his ceiling.

"You think this changes anything?" she asked.

He thought for a moment. "Only if you want it to."

She smiled and pressed a kiss to his temple. "I do."