Honestly, I'm tempted to take the decision out of your hands.

"Pavel," says Gaila, catching him in the library, "I need to check something with you really quickly."

"Yes? What is it?" Pavel asks, putting his PADD down; it is a rare question from Gaila that he does not enjoy.

"Is it weird that I want your dad--?"

"What?" he interrupts at the speed of terror. "Do you know my father?" No one at the Academy is supposed to know his father. Or, to be technically accurate, to know who his father is; most of the Academy knows him.

"Captain Pike? Yeah, of course," she says, looking surprised that he would ask. Surprise looks lovely on her, he thinks, distantly.

"Um," he says. "How? Did you know?"

Comprehension dawns.

"Smell," she explains. "When the relation's that close, it's pretty obvious."

"Oh," says Pavel, weakly.

Gaila gives him a big, encouraging smile, and says, "Sorry about that. So-- about that question--"

"Yes, yes, ask on."

"Is it weird that I want your dad to go down on me?"

Pavel decides it is a good thing he put the pad down.

"Um," he says brilliantly.

She waits, standing in the spill of sunlight through the skylight, this woman who is extraordinarily beautiful, and green, and full of hope for implicit permission to have sex with his father.

"Yes," says Pavel.

Her face does not so much fall as twist, as if she is trying not to look at him even while looking at him. "Okay," she says, softly. "Sorry, I just--"

"No," Pavel says hastily, "wait, let me finish, you see, it is weird, but it is weird because I am his son, not because of you wanting it. Ah. Does that-- that makes no sense, does it."

Her smile is not at all like sunlight, being sharp-edged and bluish and just a little spinachy from lunch, but it warms him.

"I get you," she says. "Thanks, Pavel."

She lays a damp kiss on his forehead, like his mother. It lasts a lot longer than his mother's usually do. He breathes in the scent of her hair where it falls forward to tickle his cheek, sweet and chemical and clean.

"Thanks," she repeats. She walks away with a spring in her step, her mouth blurring brightly as she glances back over her shoulder at him.

Pavel lifts a hand to his forehead. He rubs the wet still-warm patch, gingerly, and his thumb comes away smeared with gold.

(Uhhh. but then I will feel bad about following it up with one about ghost!Gaila asking Jim if it's weird that she wants his dad to go down on herrrrrr! I do not want it to be obvious how one-track my mind is. :'()
I was going to suggest reposting this one too, but not if it will deter you from this ghost!Gaila story that I desperately want to read. Actually, I don't think desperately even begins to cover how badly I want to read the story.