The captain adjusted his sweater.

No, it wasn’t Star Fleet regulation. But it was fabulous.

No one fucked with Captain Wesley Crusher.

---

A decrepit Jean-Luc hobbles precariously onto the bridge with resolute, palsy-handed confidence gripping his cleaning caravan.

Following retirement in 2402, Picard had settled down in a French villa, expecting a quiet death to shortly follow this hoary man-nesting.

However, nothing in life is so simple.

For six or so sexual harassment suits involving Dr. Beverly, Picard owes some creative legal favors to the Crusher family.

They start with a new post: Ship Butler.

---

Jean-Luc struggles against an ever-wobbling mop cart, his usual hisses and spits in harmony with its loose wheels. Today he squawks with more saltiness and contempt than usual for his hoary old self.

Captain Crusher is not amused by the display.

“Dammit Jean-Luc, I’m a fashion plate, not a dilithium toaster!”

---

Together stranded, insane, and inseparable.

Star Trek: The Next Sweateration