Payment in Full - Chapter 17

Payment in Full - Chapter 17 TITLE:                      PAYMENT IN FULL- CHAPTER 17
AUTHOR:                 PIPPIN
RATING:                   NC-17 (to be on the safe side)
PAIRING:                  Archer/Trip

SETTING: Minor spoilers: "Stigma"; "First Flight" and "The Expanse". Set after the events of "Savior".

FEEDBACK: Always! [email protected]

DISCLAIMER: Paramount owns the characters. I’m just borrowing them, and promise to return them safe and sound. The only thing I gain from this is some writing practice.

SUMMARY: Everything has a price.

Chapter 17

I’m drunk, Malcolm Reed thought, with no little surprise. This Vesoram liquor had to be powerful stuff; imagine, Malcolm Reed, drunk on a mere glassful!

With exaggerated care, he placed the empty glass on a nearby table. It wouldn’t do for Enterprise’s chief of security to end up in the brig due to public intoxication. Not at all. Even if he could plead unfamiliarity with alien liquor. After all, you wouldn’t expect to become inebriated on two drinks now, would you? But somehow, he doubted that Captain Archer would be all that understanding; he had been snappish and easily annoyed all week. Most of the crew thought it was due to the fact that his every move was being watched closely by both Starfleet and EarthGov. Reed suspected that might be part of it, but he thought he knew why the Captain was so irritable, and the Vesorams had nothing to do with it. But it wouldn’t do for him to voice his suspicions; it was, after all, the Captain’s private business. Well, as private as anything could be on a ship this size.

He looked out over the crowded dance floor. Seemed that everyone was having a very good time. He saw human/human couples, human/Versoram and Vesoram/Vesoram. There were a couple of likely ladies he had seen in the Vesoram delegation, and he wondered if he should find them, see if they were interested in a dance or two. Assuming, of course, that he was still co-ordinated enough to dance. Really, that liquor was astonishing stuff. Only three drinks and he had a buzz on.

Where are you, girls? He scanned the dance floor, but they were nowhere to be seen. He transferred his attention to the small clusters of people around the edges of the floor. Travis and Hoshi were standing by the punch bowl. They were great friends, and ever since Hoshi had dumped Cunningham, they seemed to spend more and more time together. But if they were more than friends, they were either incredibly circumspect, or incredibly lucky, as Reed had not heard of any goings-on. And he knew all about the goings-on aboard this ship. Some people might not like that, but as head of security, it was his job. Besides, if you weren’t doing anything wrong, you shouldn’t object, now should you?

Phlox joined Hoshi and Travis. The good doctor was probably in seventh heaven. It wasn’t often Phlox got to observe not only human interaction, but human/alien interaction as well. The doctor’s bright blue eyes caught his own gaze, and Reed straightened up. It wouldn’t do for Phlox to suspect him of having one too many. Although, really – only four drinks. That shouldn’t be considered one too many for a battle-hardened veteran like himself, should it?

Speaking of aliens – where was Subcommander T’Pol and that delicious bum of hers? He surveyed the crowd, but there was not a pair of pointed ears to be seen anywhere. It was likely that she had discreetly slipped away as soon as possible after the dinner. He should probably follow her example. He wasn’t really needed. Things were going smoothly, and to tell the truth, after five drinks, he was not at his best and brightest. Still, there were those Vesoram wenches about somewhere. Maybe he should make the supreme sacrifice and work on establishing friendly relations with the ladies. All in the name of inter-stellar diplomacy, of course.

He snickered very quietly to himself. The sacrifices he made for Fleet! He searched the room again, and his smile died on his lips when he found the ladies in question. They were in a gaggle surrounding – the Captain. Who else? He sighed. Some men had all the luck. In everything. It just wasn’t fair.

He thought briefly of heading over there, regardless. After all, Archer wasn’t going to be more than simply polite to these ladies, was he? Or was he? Reed stared at the tall figure in white, wondering. He had to admit, the dress uniform suited Archer very well; Enterprise’s captain certainly cut a dashing figure. One of the women said something, and the Captain threw back his head and laughed. Reed frowned. Suddenly the idea of trying to compete with Captain Courageous over there held less than zero attraction. When he wanted to, Archer could certainly turn on the charm. And Reed guessed that by now, it was simply oozing out of him. Reed knew that his own taciturn manner would not fare well in comparison. Plus, add the effect of the six drinks he had had, and his chances of success would be low to non-existent. Damn the man! Why did he have to attract all the unattached females to him like a magnet?

The injustice of it all made Reed seethe. Here was Archer, lucky enough to have Trip waiting for him back in their quarters, and he was still playing cock of the walk with all the ladies. He watched as Archer gestured towards the dance floor and said something to one woman. She nodded and smiled. He was probably taking credit for Trip’s idea to use the cargo bays to boot. Impressing them with that big intellect of his. And probably insinuating that his intellect wasn’t the only big thing he had while he was at it.

Reed swallowed, turned away. He had a sudden urge to walk over there and wipe that self-satisfied smirk right off Archer’s face, but knew that it was the seven drinks talking. Reed knew himself well enough to know that when he was under the influence, his dark side became dominant, and he would see the worst in everyone and everything. And also knew that when he reached that stage, the smart thing to do was toddle off to bed.

He decided that this was far preferable to being court-martialled for punching the Captain in the nose, offered up a small, grateful prayer that humans were not telepathic, turned towards the doors, and slowly, carefully, made his way over there. He was inordinately proud of the straight line he was able to walk; it would take more than a few drinks of Versoram moonshine to fell a Reed!

Once out in the hallway and away from the noise and confusion, he felt a little better. He saw that the doors to Cargo Bay 2 were still open. They had used it for the banquet, and he guessed Chef and his crew were cleaning up. He stuck his head inside so as to say thanks for the sumptuous feast Chef had laboured to produce, but before he could say anything, Chef had taken him by the arm and led him over to the coffee table. “You look like you need it,” he was told, as a large cup of Chef’s potent black coffee was thrust into his hand. Long experience had taught him that arguing with Chef was futile, so obediently, he drank. And it was true – it did help to clear his head. A little.

“Thanks, Chef.”

“You’re welcome. You might want to stop by Sickbay on your way to bed. Otherwise you may not be much good for anything tomorrow.”

“Good idea,” Reed muttered. Slightly steadier on his feet than he had been, he made his way out of the temporary banquet hall and into the corridor. Phlox. That was the ticket. He’d have something that would prevent the otherwise inevitable morning-afters, wouldn’t he? After the work he’d done on Trip, a hangover cure would be child’s play for the resident medico.

That thought led to another, and another. Trip. All by himself while everyone else – including his so-called lover – was out having a good time, partying till all hours. That wasn’t right. Trip deserved a little company too, didn’t he? It was the least he could do for his friend. He’d drop by and stay with Trip until it was time for the engineer to go to sleep. Let him know that not everyone had deserted him.

And having made up his mind, he headed down the corridor to the lift, and ultimately to Trip’s quarters.

It took him longer than he thought; for some reason he kept getting lost. And the fact that all the damn doors looked alike didn’t help either. Finally, more by luck than intent, he came to the right door. There wasn’t a soul about, and this annoyed Reed. Trip shouldn’t be left alone! Like everyone else, he had heard about the engineer’s recent fainting spell. He couldn’t remember who told him; was it Cutler? Or maybe Travis. Well, no matter. The point – the pertinent point – was that Trip had tried to do something and it was too much for him, and he’d ended up passed out cold for God knew how long before Archer had finally bothered to stop by and check up on him. Reed hoped it hadn’t taken too much time out of the Captain’s busy schedule.

And now, he had left Trip all alone. Again. Reed shook his head, then stopped, as the hallway seemed to tilt rather dangerously upward. The grav plating must be acting up, he thought. Too bad Trip couldn’t take a look at it, as there wasn’t much the engineer couldn’t fix. Except perhaps his own broken body. That thought led Reed back to his original complaint. Leaving a sick man all alone to go off and party. With a bunch of extremely friendly, willing and able women. Reed just couldn’t understand it. If Trip was warming his bed, he wouldn’t leave the sexy southerner alone, that was for sure!

Suppressing a sigh, he hit the door buzzer. Very faintly, he heard Trip’s answer. He opened the door, and stepped inside. The living room was quite naturally empty, as Trip was not strong enough to sit up on the couch. Reed walked carefully into the bedroom. The engineer was lying alone. Even Porthos had deserted him. Just like his owner, Reed thought. The beagle was lying on his little bed, while Trip was watching an old movie on the wall-sized screen Archer had installed. Reed had to grudgingly admit that that was one thing that Archer had done right; at least Trip could watch the old movies he loved so much in comfort and ease. Trip looked over at the doorway, turned off the movie and smiled his brilliant, heart-breaking smile. “Mal!”

Reed stood swaying slightly in the doorway, and Trip had to work very hard not to laugh. The armoury officer was obviously three sheets to the wind, and he knew that Malcolm would not only vehemently deny he was loaded, he’d probably also get annoyed at the mere suggestion. He might even leave, and to tell the truth, Trip was hungry for some company, all of his assurances to Jon notwithstanding. “Why don’t you come in?”

“Thanks,” Reed said, very distinctly and very carefully, and Trip smothered another smile. “Party winding down already?”

Reed shook his head. “Going full blast.” He began to walk over to Trip’s bedside. It looked like he was following an line only he could see, and despite himself, Trip smiled as he watched his friend’s deliberate, studied steps.

It took Reed a few minutes to traverse the room, but eventually, he made it. He ended up standing by Trip’s bedside, looking down on him. Looking up, Trip suddenly felt uncomfortable. There was a look in Malcolm’s eyes; one that he had never seen before. Instinctively, he drew his blankets up over himself.

He was used to sleeping in the altogether, but when he had come back from Tasumi, he hadn’t been comfortable doing so. Probably because he hadn’t been allowed a stitch of clothing for so long; and also probably because he was afraid. As a result, he had slept in long-sleeved pyjamas for months following his return. Pyjamas and underwear. Jon hadn’t cared one way or another; and as their relationship had progressed, he had learned to relieve Trip of his clothes quite efficiently. But as Trip became more comfortable, and learned to trust Jon, he found he no longer found it necessary to protectively bundle himself up. Eventually, he went back to sleeping in the nude, and found that he enjoyed the sensuous feeling of flesh-on-flesh, as Jon also didn’t bother with nightwear. Then after his accident, it was much easier for all concerned not to have to dress and undress him all day, so he continued in his normal habits.

But now, looking up at Malcolm, he had a sudden, unaccountable wish that he had something other than his blankets covering him; the look in Reed’s eyes was predatory, feral, and he suddenly felt helpless and afraid.

Then Malcolm smiled at him, and the look vanished. Trip wondered if he had imagined it all along. After all, this was Malcolm. His friend. He had nothing to fear from Mal, and he was ashamed of himself for being nervous, even for a minute.

“How are you, Trip?” Nothing but genuine concern.

“Oh, okay. A little tired. Good party?”

“Seems to be.”

“Why’d you leave?”

Reed leaned over the bed rail. “I had a little too much to drink,” he confided. “Don’t tell anyone, though.”

“I won’t,” Trip promised. “Why don’t you sit down?”

“I’m afraid I won’t be able to stand up again if I do.” He giggled. “Might end up spending the whole night here.”

“I think you’ll manage,” Trip said.

“If you say so,” Reed said doubtfully, but sat.

“I’ll bet the room’s stopped spinning now, hasn’t it?”

“How’d you know?”

“Pretty obvious, Mal.” He smiled. “But don’t worry; I won’t say a word.”

“Secret,” Reed agreed solemnly. “Good.” He looked at Trip. “How are you?”

“You already asked me that, remember?”

“I know,” Reed said hastily, “I know. But I’ve been worried about you. All alone, while … “ He stopped, shook his head. “None of my business,” he muttered.

“I’m all right,” Trip said. The worry was starting to come back, but he refused to give into it. Reed was a little drunk, and that was all.

“Shouldn’t leave you alone,” Reed said. He was rapidly becoming maudlin, as only the catastrophically drunk can. “All by yourself … lying here in the dark …isn’t right, you know.”

“Well, you’re here now, so that’s okay,” Trip said, trying to steer the conversation away from this topic. “Tell me about the Vesorams. Is it true that they’re green? Really green?”

“More of a blue-green,” Reed said after a moment’s thought. “A light blue green.”

“But green.”

“Yep. Archer – I mean, the Captain – said he’d space anyone who made ‘little green men’ jokes tonight.”

“Sounds like Jon.” Trip gave Reed a wicked grin. “I wonder if they’re green all over?”

“Dunno.” Reed wasn’t interested in the Vesorams any longer. He was looking at Trip again, and again, there was something about his gaze that was making Trip extremely uncomfortable.

Before he could say anything, a soft, insistent chime sounded. Trip breathed a sigh of relief. The timer. He never thought he’d say this, but thank God for Phlox’s fussiness.

Reed looked around, startled. “Wha - ?”

“It’s okay,” Trip reassured him. “Just the timer going off.”

“Timer? What for?”

“I have to take a pill now.” Trip put his hand onto the railing, meaning to pull himself into an upright position. Reed immediately protested. “No, no, no! Let me help. Shouldn’t strain yourself.”

Before Trip could protest, Reed had slipped his arm under his shoulders and was helping him to sit upright. The blankets fell down to his waist, and Reed was staring at his bare chest.

“Oh, Trip,” Reed mourned. “Your poor sides!”

Trip looked down. The evidence of his surgery was still present, and it wasn’t pretty. “It looks worse than it is,” he said, trying to reassure his friend. “Phlox says there shouldn’t be any marks at all when I finally heal.”

“But still,” Reed said dolefully. And then he traced a finger along Trip’s ribs. “You poor darling … “

“Ah, Malcolm,” Trip said, now definitely uneasy. “I really don’t think – “

He never got a chance to finish. Reed bent over, and kissed him, hard. Trip struggled and squirmed. “Malcolm! Don’t!” But Reed was past hearing. He kissed Trip again, his tongue trying to push its way through the engineer’s tightly pressed lips, wile his hands slipped down Trip’s sides. Trip, having lost his support, fell back onto the bed. Reed pushed the bed rail down and half-climbed onto the bed. In spite of his drunkenness, he moved quickly and easily, and before Trip could catch his breath, Malcolm was pinning him down, and his hot, hungry lips were latched onto his own again.

This couldn’t be happening, could it? Was he going to be raped by one of his best friends? He struggled, managed to move his head.

“Malcolm! Stop it! STOP!”

“Oh, Trip,” Reed breathed in response. “I’ve wanted you for so long …”

And then one of his hands slipped under the blankets, found what it was looking for. Trip gasped. And with that touch, the memories he tried so hard to suppress all came flooding back. He screamed, a high, whistling gasp, and pushed at Reed with every bit of his feeble strength. “NO! Stop it, stop it, stop it …” He was near tears, and shaking like a leaf. “Get off of me, Malcolm! Stop it …stop it .. stop, please stop …“

“What the fuck - ?”

Reed froze, then turned to see Archer, his face dark with fury, barrelling down on him, fists clenched.

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