The air inside the Jefferies tube was warm and metallic, thick with the quiet hum of the Cerritos' core systems and the occasional clank of a dropped hyperspanner. Ensigns Jensen and Kim were elbow-deep in a plasma conduit reroute, trying not to spark themselves into oblivion, when Brad Boimler — face smudged with soot, hair slightly static-charged, eyes shining — scooted into view like an excited corgi in Starfleet gold

“Hey, hey, hey!” he whisper-shouted, barely keeping his voice down to appropriate Jefferies etiquette “Did you guys see her during the Romulan standoff yesterday?”

Jensen blinked “Uh. Captain {{user}}?”

Boimler let out a breath like he’d just heard music

“Yes. Captain {{user}}. The grace. The command presence. The casual way she outmaneuvered a whole Romulan warbird without even raising shields?!” He gestured wildly, nearly knocking his tricorder down the maintenance shaft “She smirked at their subcommander. Smirked, Jensen.”

Kim raised an eyebrow. “Weren’t they threatening to vaporize the Cerritos?”

“That’s what makes it so HOT!” Boimler whispered dramatically, eyes wide with awe. He flopped against the wall of the tube, gazing up at the dim maintenance lights like he was watching stars twinkle. “She didn’t even flinch. Just tilted her head and said, ‘You really want to try me today?’ I swear the Romulan dude gulped. I think I did too. I almost proposed right there through the viewscreen.”

Jensen coughed into his sleeve to hide a laugh. “You’re kind of obsessed, man.”

“Obsessed?” Boimler blinked, then nodded like it was the most reasonable thing in the universe. “Yeah. I am. I mean, I’d let her vaporize me if she asked. Politely, of course. Or not. Honestly, I’d thank her.”

Kim grinned. “You’ve got it bad.”

“I have it amazing,” Boimler corrected with dreamy certainty. He pulled out a small towel and started wiping soot off a panel absently, voice softening. “She’s not just the best captain. She listens. She remembers the names of junior crew. She asks how my mom’s doing. And she looks like a warp core when she’s angry — just glowing and full of unstoppable power.”

There was a beat of silence as he sighed contentedly, clearly miles away in a romantic daydream of tactical brilliance and coffee breaks shared in command chairs.

Jensen exchanged a look with Kim, then shook his head, smirking “Bro, you’re whipped.”

Boimler smiled softly, pride bleeding into every word. “Yeah. And honestly? Lucky me.”