Ice Cream on Thursday
Posted on Sun Sep 28th, 2025 @ 4:41pm by Lieutenant JG Jean-Baptiste Dorsainvil & Lieutenant JG Jacqueline Holder
2,907 words; about a 15 minute read
Mission:
Character Backstories
Location: Starfleet Academy, San Francisco, Earth
Timeline: October 15, 2381, Hours
It had been almost a week since she’d met Jean-Baptiste right before the Alcatraz swim. Jacqueline hadn’t seen him since, despite watching for him as she moved between classes, scanning the cafeteria during meals, even searching among the faces of San Francisco’s busy streets and coffee shops. She was beginning to give up on the idea of running into him by chance, and considering the possibility of looking him up in the directory when she finally spotted him.
Jean-Baptiste came out of the calculus hall with his data PADDs pressed tight under one arm, his head low, as if the equations were still spinning like Rigellian gnats in front of his eyes. The corridor beyond was wide, flooded with the murmur of a hundred cadets changing classes, boots scuffing the polished floor tiles, and the odd bark of laughter rising over the din.
He moved with purpose–steadily–shoulders squared, stepping with a little extra forward momentum. For a week, he’d lived like this: rising early, hitting the Bay, burying his face in texts until late, and in the evenings letting Cheff’s gum swallow him completely, the air sour with old sweat and resin. The rhythm of the heavy bag, the jabs and counters, the sting of rope skipping–these things dulled the ache that lingered from that night.
He thought of Jacqueline only in stray moments now–how her hair looked when it caught the sun the morning of the swim, how she had laughed with her whole mouth and breath. And then how, at the end, her, ’Hopefully we can hang out again sometimes’ had sounded like a door closing completely.
Maybe she’d meant it. Maybe not. It didn’t matter. He would not chase after her, not when she clearly had her walls up. Better to respect it, keep his dignity, let her decide if the day had meant as much to her as it had to him.
So he kept on, sliding through the corridor’s current toward behavioural sciences, jaw set. And though he did not know it yet, she was here too–her eyes searching through the crowd, waiting for a glimpse of him.
Jacqueline had to quicken her pace to keep from losing him in the crowd. She threaded her way through the crowd of people at a near-jog hoping to catch J.B. before he slipped into his next class. When it seemed she was about to lose the race she finally gave up and just called out to him from a few meters back.
“JB!”
Jacqueline stopped in her tracks, and stood poised in the hall - one hand up ready to wave should he look back toward her.
Jean-Baptiste stopped mid-stride, a tiny ripple moving through the flow of cadets behind him. He turned, slowly, as though unsure the sound had been meant for him. When his eyes found hers–hand raised, cheeks flushed from the hurry–something shifted in his chest.
“Jacqueline,” he said, her name catching somewhere between surprise and a heavy helping of relief.
For a second he stood where he was, half a corridor of uniforms streaming between them. He felt the PADDs under his arm slip a tiny bit. He adjusted them, and then started back toward her.
“You found me,” he said when they met, an awkward grin appearing at the corners of his mouth.
“I did,” Jacqueline said, trying to hide the fact that she was out of breath. “You were about to go into class though. Want to get coffee or something after?”
She waited for his response expectantly. As the question hung in the air she found herself more nervous than she had anticipated.
JB hesitated. He opened his mouth, then closed it, weighing every syllable against some invisible scale. “No,” he said finally, slow but not unkind.
A flush rose to Jaqueline’s cheeks. She felt her heart sink at his rejection, and she felt foolish for running him down the way that she had. She was ready to turn away when he said something else.
“But…” he continued, his tone shifting gently, “we can go now.”
Her expression shifted. He’d surprised her with the sudden offer. “But what about class?” She asked.
“Class can wait,” he said, leveling his gaze at her. “We’ll make it worth the time.”
“I mean if you’re sure..” Jacqueline hedged her tone somewhat meaning to give him an out, though the hope was evident in her voice and in her eyes as she waited for his final confirmation.
JB grinned and it beamed strongly. “Don’t be silly,” he teased. “Let’s go.”
“Blue bottle coffee lab?” She asked. “Unless you want something different. I could go for ice cream instead.”
The offer of coffee with her was more than enough–it made him tingle deep inside his chest, as if little snowflakes were bouncing off his ribs. Now, the thought of ice cream on a particularly warm autumn day was suddenly irresistible.
“Ice cream,” he repeated, thinking about the cool confection on his tongue. “You’ve got some great ideas today, Jacqueline.”
The server in the crisp white apron passed the cones across the counter–two scoops each, stacked high, threatening to topple in the unusual October heat. JB took his carefully, thumb braced like he was handling explosive ordnance, then passed Jacqueline hers. The air smelled strongly of sugar and waffle cones, and beyond the food court windows the autumn light poured over the finely-manicured lawns and the glinting of San Francisco Bay. A group of second-years in gold tunics hurried past with datapads pressed tight to the chests, but her, in the ice cream shop, time felt slower.
He followed Jacqueline to a table under the glass canopy, the din of cadet chatter rolling like surf around them.
“Don’t tell my mom I’m having dessert before supper,” Jacqueline joked as she caught dripping cascades of lemon-blueberry and strawberry shortcake with her tongue before the sweet stickiness threatened to cover her fingers that carefully held the waffle cone.
“Maybe I should have gotten a cup though,” she said laughing. “It’s melting so fast. I’m going to make a mess.”
JB leaned forward, his own cone already tilting menacingly under the sun, a rivulet of melted chocolate tracing the back of his hand. He caught it with a quick swipe of his tongue, grinning at the absurdity of it. “That’s the price of ambition,” he said, nodding at her cone. “Two scoops, high risk. But high reward.” His grin widened, it was the expression of a man amused not just by ice cream but by the fact of sitting here with her, sharing this ridiculous, sticky moment.
“I suppose most things with high reward do come with a risk. Kind of why I like flying,” she admitted. She took another several licks into her ice cream, focusing steadily on getting the scoops into a manageable size as she thought shyly about how nervous she’d been when she thought JB was turning her down earlier. It hadn’t occurred to her before that moment that chasing him down in the hallway had been a risk, but as she sat across from him and studied his smile and felt her own heart flutter she realized it had been.
“So, how has your week been going? Skip any other classes?” She asked.
“No,” he said grinning. “There were no beautiful first-year cadets to tempt me away from them with ice cream.”
Jacqueline smiled, a nervous giggle escaping her lips. “Stop,” she protested playfully, though his compliment had put a sparkle in her eyes.
“I’d been hoping to run into you,” she admitted. She left out the the fact that she’d been actively looking for him around campus.
JB watched as a rivulet of multi-coloured ice cream slid down over Jacqueline’s fingers. “I wasn’t hiding,” he said.
“No?” Jacqueline's voice seemed to rise almost a full octave before she self-corrected. “I guess our schedules don't really overlap much. When do you take lunch during the week?” Jacqueline shot him a look a mild embarrassment before she tried again to clean up the mess of the dripping cone before bringing her sticky fingers to her lips and gently sucking the melted ice cream off of her hands.
He leaned back a little, letting his cone drip onto the paper napkin he hadn’t bothered to unfold. The sweetness was already melting too fast, but he let it go, eyes fixed on her instead.
“I didn’t think this would happen again,” he said, his voice softening into a gentle truth. “That day at the Bay–when you said hopefully we can hang out again sometime--it sounded like a goodbye. Like you were being kind… letting me off easy.”
Jacqueline’s expression turned sad. “No, I didn’t mean that way,” she said in a gentle protest. “Not at all.”
She looked around at the other tables, suddenly not interested in her ice cream at all - torn between hurrying to finish it and avoiding a worse mess, or locating a trash bin. Instead she licked the cone slowly, just enough to push the ice cream back into the cone.
“I really did want to see you again,” she admitted.
The coil of disappointment he'd been feeling for days now, began to loosen a little. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the little table. His cone was half-forgotten and he didn't notice his Moon Mist ice cream flowing over his fingers.
"I was sure you meant it was over," he said, keeping his voice low from the other cadets around them. "Like it was just one amazing day. I told myself I'd have to respect that and not to chase."
Jacqueline felt her heart flutter at JB’s admission. She’d heard of getting butterflies in your stomach, but this feeling was more in her chest sending a rush of excitement though not without some nervousness.
“Well, maybe you’ll learn that I don’t say things unless I mean them,” she said with sincerity, a coy smile starting to play on her lips. “If we keep hanging out, I mean.”
Jean-Baptiste wiped his hand against the napkin, though it barely helped–the paper clung damply to his fingers, leaving tiny white flecks. He didn’t care. He was grinning, and it wasn’t the kind he could easily hide.
“Hanging out? That sounds like a plan I’d be willing to skip more classes for.”
“No,” Jacqueline said with a gentle laugh. “No more skipping class. What would your mother say?” She chided.
Jean-Baptiste chuckled, a warm, chest-deep sound. “My mother?” he said, shaking his head. “She’d tell me the same thing she always did when I was late coming home from the docks—Bondye va peye ou, (“God will pay you back.”) Except, I think she meant it as a warning, not encouragement.”
Jacqueline grinned knowingly and nodded. “That sounds about right,” she said in a sort of agreement before letting her gaze wander towards the storefronts just beyond JB’s shoulder. For a moment she looked lost in something as she took in the atmosphere without making any specific note of any one person or thing around them.
“So what are your plans for the weekend?” Jacqueline asked the question casually. If there were any intention behind her words she measured her tone so that was left that open to interpretation.
He took another slow lick of the cone before setting it down in the little paper dish between them, letting it surrender to the heat. He rubbed his thumb along the dampened edge of the napkin still stuck to his fingers, buying himself another moment before answering.
“I’ll probably swim,” he said. “The boxing gym too. Nothing glorious.”
He gave her a sidelong smile, one corner of his mouth turning upward. “What about you? You strike me as someone with a dozen plans already.”
“Not a dozen plans, no,” Jacqueline replied as a bashful smile played on her lips. “I have to get some flight training hours in. Nothing too fancy yet, though. I’m guessing they will keep things pretty tame for us first years pretty much all semester, if not all year.”
He studied her from across the table. “When I was a boy,” he said, “we had one old fishing boat in Bainet. The engine sputtered and coughed like a dying ass. But when my uncle took me out, he always said the same thing before we left shore: Pa kouri–pran tan ou. Don’t rush. Take your time. The sea will teach you when it’s ready.”
JB absently wiped some ice cream drippings from his arm, then leaned in, elbows on the table. “Maybe it’s the same with flying. They’ll start you off slow and let you test the winds little by little until you get comfortable.”
“More like until they get comfortable with us.” Jacqueline’s response carried a hint of disappointment. “Less about skill and more about trust, so there’s not really a way to speed up the process unless you’re connected,” she explained with a shrug.
Jean-Baptiste nodded, rolling the napkin between his fingers until it frayed. “Maybe that’s fair,” he said.
He took a long moment to take her in, wishing he could just lean across the table and kiss her right there. Feel her lips on his, the smell of her hair, the taste of her mouth. But he knew there was still a wall between them.
“Did you have something in mind for the weekend–something we could do together?”
Jacqueline grinned. She’d been hoping that he might ask, but was feeling a little shy to make the first move herself despite her success tracking him down in the hallway.
“Well, there’s a festival down in Mission Bay this weekend. Fair food, games, things like that, if you are into that sort of thing.” She looked at him hopefully.
JB felt a smile rising from his lips to his eyes like a slow-moving wave moving toward a pier. Prior to the ice cream, he had completely counted himself out of ever spending any time with Jacqueline again.
“Are you asking me on a date, Jacqueline?” he teased, genuine affection creeping behind his words.
Jacqueline felt a slight blush rise to her cheeks. “I suppose I am,” she admitted. “Is that okay?”
“Okay?” he said, shaking his head. “Bon Dye, I think it’s better than okay.” He learned forward again, elbows planted on their table. “I never thought you’d be the one asking.”
The word date reverberated in his ears. It felt far heavier than he’d expected, but not in a bad way. Technically, it would not be a first date either.
“Okay, well then, so does 1500 work?” Jacqueline replied, glossing over the attention he had drawn to the fact that she had asked him out.
He quirked at the number, his mouth turning into a slow, amused grin. “Ah, fifteen-hundred,” he said. “You make it sound like we’re scheduling a strategic op instead of a walk around the festival. ’At fifteen-hundred hours, Cadet Jacqueline Holder, proceed to the fairgrounds.”
He gave her a mock salute, one eyebrow rising. “Do I need to submit a mission report after?” JB winked at her teasingly.
Jacqueline laughed lightly as she shook her head. “Perhaps. That’s not a bad idea now that I think about it, actually,” she teased as her smile reached her eyes. She felt herself relax now that it was established - they were spending time together this Saturday. He wanted to see her again even though she’d completely botched the opportunity for a first kiss.
JB grinned. Seeing her laugh relaxed something deep inside him, allowing him to let go a little more. He had wanted to keep talking, to keep making her laugh, but something just felt so calm in the moment that he elected to remain sitting there and admiring her eyes. Taking in her presence. He wished nothing would pull him away from this moment.
Jacqueline had long since finished her cone, and she held her sticky hands out awkwardly in front of her and looked awkwardly at JB and back toward the ice cream shop. “Maybe we should go wash our hands or something?” She asked sheepishly.
He pressed his palms together, feeling the stickiness cling like it had a mind of its own. “Yeah,” he said, grimacing. “Good idea.”
They both rose together and wandered to the communal sink. The hallway outside the food court buzzed with the typical afternoon traffic, cadets’ boots clattering against the floor tile. For a Thursday at Starfleet Academy, Jean-Baptiste counted himself lucky–lucky enough to have stolen a few quiet moments with Jacqueline, sharing ice cream before the day pulled them in whole.
Cadet 1st Class Jean-Baptiste Dorsainvil
Cadet
Starfleet Academy
Cadet 1st Class Jacqueline Holder
Cadet
Starfleet Academy
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