Kylie Lee | Slash fan fiction

Tucker opened his mouth, then closed it. "Oh, my god," he said. "My arm is gone."

"Is it really gone, sir?" Mayweather touched Tucker in the crook of his elbow, then slid his fingers down.

"Well, no. I can feel it."

"Can you feel me touching you?"

"Yes. My arm feels completely normal. What does it feel like to you? Can you feel me?" He patted himself, and it felt like it always did, except it looked like he was touching empty air. "Oh, this is really weird." He fought down panic. "Please tell me you can feel me."

Mayweather slid his warm hands up and down his arm. "I can feel your uniform." Mayweather took Tucker's hand in his. Tucker could feel it, but to his eyes, Mayweather was making odd stroking movements in midair. "And here's your hand." Mayweather's fingers brushed his palm. Next, Mayweather interlaced his fingers with Tucker's. "All your fingers are still there, anyway. I can feel them." Tucker clenched his fingers, and Mayweather squeezed back. "And I guess you can feel me." Where Tucker's fingers pressed, the dark skin of Mayweather's hand disappeared. "Can you make all of my hand disappear if you cover it with yours?"

Tucker clasped Mayweather's hand. It felt warm and strong. He closed his fingers around the back of Mayweather's hand, and it looked like the middle of Mayweather's hand had disappeared. Tucker could see Mayweather's wrist at the bottom and his knuckles and fingers at the top. But the stripe in the middle was simply missing. Tucker could see the shuttle bay floor right through it.

"Wow, this is great," Mayweather said with enthusiasm, pivoting his wrist. "Look, you can see right through. This has definite possibilities." He waved his other hand underneath the invisible stripe and grinned.

"Possibilities?"

"Having a hand no one can see? You've got to be kidding."

"Thank god it was me and not you," Tucker said. "I wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of the practical jokes."

"I don't usually work with a partner, but—"

"No," Tucker said definitely. "I'm the chief engineer. I'm supposed to be serious. A role model. A role model for the ensigns, in fact. Ensign."

"Too bad," Mayweather sighed. A second later, his hand tightened on Tucker's arm as Tucker, suddenly light-headed, swayed to one side. "Sir? Are you all right?" Tucker nodded, but Mayweather was not convinced. "I'm sorry," Mayweather added, voice contrite. "I guess this has you freaked out, and I'm going on about how cool it is. I think you'd better see Doctor Phlox. You got hit pretty hard."

Tucker was actually scared enough to agree. His chest hurt. He'd also banged his head on the floor. And his arm was gone. "Good idea. But I think I'll stay here for a minute. Then I can try the whole standing up thing."

Mayweather looked truly concerned. "I can call Doctor Phlox and he can come get you, or bring his bag, or something."

"I'm fine," Tucker said firmly, even though he wasn't. When he looked down at his missing arm, he just felt panic. "Just give me a minute." He put a hand on Mayweather's muscular upper arm in reassurance, and a stripe of Mayweather's arm disappeared, his arm severed into two pieces. "Will you look at that," he said, because suddenly it seemed crowded and hot in the shuttle bay.

"Will you look at that," Mayweather echoed, his eyes not moving from Tucker's face.

Mayweather's gaze held him pinned. Tucker's heart started beating wildly. He couldn't look away. He felt the muscles of Mayweather's arm flex as Mayweather moved slightly. He was hyperaware of Mayweather's warmth, the texture of his skin, his dark eyes. There was a long, electric silence.

"Commander," Mayweather murmured, and he leaned in and kissed Tucker gently on the lips.