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DS9 - For DS9 Tumblr Zine, Week 2!
Title: Remade Traditions
Fandom: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Gen
Rating & Warnings: G
Words: 665
Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek: Deep Space Nine.
Summary: Leeta joins Rom, Nog, and the Siskos for supper for the first time.
Author's Notes: This week's submission for DS9 Tumblr Zine, for the prompt "Cultural Exchange"! Once again, I had already done a piece about Julian and Garak involving this prompt (creatively titled "Cultural Exchange"), so I thought I would write something a little different and outside my usual scope instead. And I'm definitely going to have to do this again--I had a blast!
"I can't do it, Rom—I can't!"
"Sure you can. You'll be just fine."
Leeta reminded herself yet again to breathe and looked into the caring face of her partner. Normally, the sight of Rom smiling away at her like a sunbeam in the shape of a Ferengi was enough to cure any ills. But today wasn't even close to being normal.
"But I'm going to have supper with the Emissary! And he's the captain of the station!"
"It's all right. He's really nice," Rom said as they came to a stop outside their host's door.
"That's easy for you to say—he isn't your Emissary!"
Rom's hand went to the small of her back, and that helped a little, but then he pressed the doorchime and that didn't help at all.
A moment later, a teenaged voice called out, "Come in!"
"Come on, Leeta." Rom gave her back a gentle press.
"Ohhh!"
Was it too late to catch the next transport off the station?
They stepped inside and found that Nog had arrived ahead of them. He was watching the Emissary, who was . . . cooking. While wearing an apron. And humming.
And she had thought she'd been feeling off-balance before.
"Hey, Rom, Leeta. Glad you could come."
Leeta pulled her gaze from that strange domestic sight to the Emissary's son, who was approaching with a smile.
"Hi Jake," Rom greeted him. "How's the writing going?"
"Great. How's the engineering going?"
"It's going great, too! It couldn't be better."
"We brought this," Leeta broke in and was immediately awash with humiliation. She thrust out the bottle of springwine in the hopes of somehow being able to hide behind it. "Your father said to feel free to incorporate as many Bajoran traditions to this evening as I wanted, so I thought. . . . I hope it goes with the meal," she finished. Maybe if she was lucky, the Prophets would catch her up on the spot.
She wasn't lucky. As Jake complimented her on her selection, the Emissary left whatever he was cooking (it smelled amazing) to join them.
"Hello and welcome, both of you," he greeted them. "Sorry to keep you waiting, but my peppers can be very touchy."
"That's perfectly all right. Here."
To her horror, Rom held out two slips of latinum.
"Rom! You can't bribe the Emissary!"
"It's all right," Jake told her as the slips were deposited into a pocket. "Dad's got a system."
"Trust us—we've been doing this for years," Nog added as he joined them.
She dared a glance up at the Emissary himself and got a warm smile in return. . . . It couldn't be wrong if he didn't mind, could it?
There was a little time remaining before supper, and so Captain Sisko invited them to relax for a bit. At first she sat on the very edge of her seat, but as she was drawn into the news shared by Nog and Jake, she settled back into the couch. She only realised she had when it was time to get up and join their host at the table.
"Hey, look what I found on my plate!" Rom exclaimed and held up . . . two slips of latinum.
Leeta turned to stare at the Emissary, who smiled. "It must be your lucky day."
He surveyed each of them—Jake at the opposite end of the table, Nog on one side, and herself and Rom on the other—before his gaze came to rest on her.
"Leeta," he said in a voice brimming with kindness, "would you like to say a prayer of gratitude for us? I know the festival was months ago, but right now, I don't think it would go amiss."
In spite of the return of her nerves, she just couldn't help smiling back. "I'd be honoured."
She took in a deep breath, then spread her palms. The traditional words came to her easily; as she prayed, her smile grew. All of a sudden, she knew exactly what Captain Sisko meant.
Fandom: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Gen
Rating & Warnings: G
Words: 665
Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek: Deep Space Nine.
Summary: Leeta joins Rom, Nog, and the Siskos for supper for the first time.
Author's Notes: This week's submission for DS9 Tumblr Zine, for the prompt "Cultural Exchange"! Once again, I had already done a piece about Julian and Garak involving this prompt (creatively titled "Cultural Exchange"), so I thought I would write something a little different and outside my usual scope instead. And I'm definitely going to have to do this again--I had a blast!
"I can't do it, Rom—I can't!"
"Sure you can. You'll be just fine."
Leeta reminded herself yet again to breathe and looked into the caring face of her partner. Normally, the sight of Rom smiling away at her like a sunbeam in the shape of a Ferengi was enough to cure any ills. But today wasn't even close to being normal.
"But I'm going to have supper with the Emissary! And he's the captain of the station!"
"It's all right. He's really nice," Rom said as they came to a stop outside their host's door.
"That's easy for you to say—he isn't your Emissary!"
Rom's hand went to the small of her back, and that helped a little, but then he pressed the doorchime and that didn't help at all.
A moment later, a teenaged voice called out, "Come in!"
"Come on, Leeta." Rom gave her back a gentle press.
"Ohhh!"
Was it too late to catch the next transport off the station?
They stepped inside and found that Nog had arrived ahead of them. He was watching the Emissary, who was . . . cooking. While wearing an apron. And humming.
And she had thought she'd been feeling off-balance before.
"Hey, Rom, Leeta. Glad you could come."
Leeta pulled her gaze from that strange domestic sight to the Emissary's son, who was approaching with a smile.
"Hi Jake," Rom greeted him. "How's the writing going?"
"Great. How's the engineering going?"
"It's going great, too! It couldn't be better."
"We brought this," Leeta broke in and was immediately awash with humiliation. She thrust out the bottle of springwine in the hopes of somehow being able to hide behind it. "Your father said to feel free to incorporate as many Bajoran traditions to this evening as I wanted, so I thought. . . . I hope it goes with the meal," she finished. Maybe if she was lucky, the Prophets would catch her up on the spot.
She wasn't lucky. As Jake complimented her on her selection, the Emissary left whatever he was cooking (it smelled amazing) to join them.
"Hello and welcome, both of you," he greeted them. "Sorry to keep you waiting, but my peppers can be very touchy."
"That's perfectly all right. Here."
To her horror, Rom held out two slips of latinum.
"Rom! You can't bribe the Emissary!"
"It's all right," Jake told her as the slips were deposited into a pocket. "Dad's got a system."
"Trust us—we've been doing this for years," Nog added as he joined them.
She dared a glance up at the Emissary himself and got a warm smile in return. . . . It couldn't be wrong if he didn't mind, could it?
There was a little time remaining before supper, and so Captain Sisko invited them to relax for a bit. At first she sat on the very edge of her seat, but as she was drawn into the news shared by Nog and Jake, she settled back into the couch. She only realised she had when it was time to get up and join their host at the table.
"Hey, look what I found on my plate!" Rom exclaimed and held up . . . two slips of latinum.
Leeta turned to stare at the Emissary, who smiled. "It must be your lucky day."
He surveyed each of them—Jake at the opposite end of the table, Nog on one side, and herself and Rom on the other—before his gaze came to rest on her.
"Leeta," he said in a voice brimming with kindness, "would you like to say a prayer of gratitude for us? I know the festival was months ago, but right now, I don't think it would go amiss."
In spite of the return of her nerves, she just couldn't help smiling back. "I'd be honoured."
She took in a deep breath, then spread her palms. The traditional words came to her easily; as she prayed, her smile grew. All of a sudden, she knew exactly what Captain Sisko meant.