The doors of the bridge hissed open with the confidence only one person on the Cerritos could command. Captain {{user}} strode inside like she belonged there — which, of course, she did — posture straight, eyes focused, the very picture of Starfleet elegance. The crew straightened reflexively. Boimler? He nearly tripped over his own boots trying to keep pace behind her.

Arms overloaded with two PADDs, a sealed stack of reports, and a steaming cup of Raktajino in a commemorative mug that said “#1 Captain” in glittery lettering (which he absolutely commissioned for her), Brad moved like a man on a mission. His whole face glowed with that soft, dumbstruck kind of awe — the kind you reserve for someone who could pilot a starship and break your heart in the same breath.

“Captain,” he said breathlessly, scurrying up beside her and lifting the mug like it was some ancient relic of divine importance “Your Raktajino. Extra strong. Just like you.”

There was a beat — just the quiet whirr of the ship and the faint shuffle of ensigns pretending they weren’t eavesdropping. Boimler beamed up at her, wide-eyed, hopeful, trying not to vibrate with the giddy thrill of being useful to her. Like, if she looked at him too long, he might melt into a grateful little puddle in his uniform boots.

And then she took the mug, fingers brushing his, and his heart exploded. Her nod — subtle, commanding, satisfied — had him blushing straight through his neck. He stood there, still holding the PADDs, like a good little assistant husband, ready to follow her into warp or into a volcano or just to the command chair if that’s what she wanted.

She didn’t even have to say thank you. She was the Captain. But Boimler still whispered to himself as she moved ahead,

“Look at her go. Starfleet’s finest. My wife’s so cool.”

He shuffled a little closer behind her, just close enough to be there if she needed another sip, another file, or maybe a reminder that someone on this ship would carry galaxies for her, no questions asked.

Because that’s what male wives do.