Payment in Full - Chapter 9

Payment in Full - Chapter 9 TITLE:                      PAYMENT IN FULL- CHAPTER 9
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 9

"Captain!" Malcolm Reed jumped to his feet. "I'm sorry, sir, we weren't – I mean, I wasn't – expecting you. Yet."

Archer smiled. "At ease, Lieutenant."

Reed, still standing rigidly, repeated, "I wasn't expecting you so soon."

"It's quiet," Archer explained. "Subcommander T'Pol suggested I take some down time. I concurred." Reed was shooting quick, nervous glances towards the closed bedroom door. "Something wrong?"

"Wrong? No. No, nothing's wrong, sir."

"How's Trip?"

"He's sleeping."

"He have a bad day?"

"No more so than usual, sir. Why do you ask?"

"He's usually awake by now, isn't he?"

At this, Reed shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and looked even more nervous, if that was possible.

"All right, Malcolm," Archer said patiently. "What aren't you telling me?"

Reed tried to look innocent and failed miserably. "Sir?"

"If it were any plainer, you'd be wearing a sign. So what is it?"

Reed sighed. "I'm not sure I should say anything. Trip – Commander Tucker – might not like it."

"I won't tell him you told me," Archer promised. "So what’s this all about?"

Reed looked at the closed bedroom door again, then back at Archer. The Captain was being patient, but Reed knew his patience would only last so long. He sighed again and admitted defeat. "It only seems like he's usually awake."

Archer frowned. "I don't understand."

"He asked that he be woken up before you come off shift," Reed explained. "Usually we get a call from the Bridge to let us know that you're on your way. Then whomever is here wakes him." Reed looked at him, his expression unreadable. "He wants to be with you, sir. To spend as much time as he can with you. He'd rather forego his rest so he can have that."

"I see," Archer said. "Thanks for letting me know."

"Sir ... You won't –?”

"Not a word, Malcolm, not a word." He smiled. "You can go. I'll take care of him."

"Very well, sir." Reed turned to go, then turned back to face him. "Permission to speak freely, sir?"

What's bothering him now? "Always, Lieutenant."

"If I may be so bold – you are a very lucky man." The armory officer looked at the closed bedroom door and then back at Archer. "I hope you appreciate what you have, sir."

Archer was astonished. It was unheard-of for the taciturn Reed to express his opinions on such matters, especially to a superior officer. Looking into the lieutenant's blue-gray eyes, Archer saw something else: envy. He realized then just exactly how Reed felt about Trip, and also realized that nothing he could say would help. And what could he say? That he was sorry? He wasn't. Not one damn bit. And Reed knew it. "Thank you, Malcolm," he said mildly. "I do realize - and appreciate - what I have."

"Yes, sir." Reed squared his shoulders, looked over to the bedroom once more.

Archer followed his gaze. "Don't worry. I'll take good care of him. You can go."

"Say ‘goodnight’ to Trip for me?"

"Of course."

"Very well, Captain. Good night."

"Good night, Malcolm."

Reed exited, and Archer simply stood, shaking his head in mingled wonder and disbelief. He would have never believed it – not in a million years. Trip – you heart breaker, you. He shook his head again, smiled, and went into their bedroom.

Trip was deeply asleep, Porthos at his feet. Archer walked quietly over to the bed, looked down at them. Trip looked so tired. Even when asleep. Really, it seemed a shame to wake him. Then he remembered Reed's words: He wants to be with you.

He slipped off his shoes and climbed onto the bed, careful not to disturb either of its sleeping inhabitants. Gently, he slipped an arm under Trip's shoulders, pulled his lover close.

His lover.

Lover. Not a very big word, was it? Seemed strange, that such a small word could be weighted with so much. It was not a word he could have used to characterize Trip all that long ago. Yet now, it seemed barely adequate to describe what this man meant to him. He knew that was part of the strangeness. Neither he nor Trip was gay, and yet – here they were. Lovers. Not only emotionally, but also in the complete, physical sense, and as often as possible.

He smiled. It was here, in this room, where they had first made love – really made love, as opposed to the charade that had taken place on Tasumi. That had been special, that night, that first time. But then, it was always special with Trip, wasn't it? Yes. Always good.

Yet he knew that if that part of it was to be taken away, he would still want to be with Trip. The physical part, pleasant as it was, was not the most important part of their relationship. Why, the fact that he was lying here right now, holding Trip in his arms, perfectly content, was proof of that, wasn't it?

Gently, he ran a finger down one cheek. Trip sighed, but did not wake; his lashes – those absurdly long eyelashes – lay neatly and cleanly against his cheeks.

Archer smiled again. It was quite a face he was looking at. By all rights, such a conglomeration of features – the ski slope nose, the mobile, always askew eyebrows, the close-set eyes – should have resulted in a visage that was as homely as sin. Instead, Trip was, to put it quite simply, beautiful. Something about those clear blue eyes – or possibly that sweet, open smile – transformed him. Add to that his decency and good nature, and it was small wonder he was so well loved.

You just can’t help loving him, Archer thought. He remembered what Reed had said. Yes, he was a lucky man. Because not only did he love Trip, but apparently Trip loved him back. God alone knew why, considering what a domineering pain in the ass he could be, but it seemed that Trip didn't mind.

He stroked the beloved face again, ran a light finger across the soft lips, then leaned in, kissed the tip of that ridiculous, delightful nose. He was definitely getting soft and sentimental in his old age. Or, as Trip would say, mushy. Fine. Guilty as charged. He'd rather be an old mush-bag than not. And if Trip wasn't worthy of being loved, then no one was.

He kissed Trip again, and the younger man murmured, then awoke. Archer smiled down on him. "Didn't mean to wake you," he lied. "Sorry."

"S' all right," Trip murmured. "I must have overslept. Is it dinner time already?"

"No," Archer said. "I left the Bridge early. Took some time off. Thought I'd spend it with you."

"And I was sleeping. Sorry."

"Don't be sorry. You need the rest. Go back to sleep if you want."

Trip shook his head. "No." He turned his face to Archer's. "I'd rather hear about your day."

Archer smiled and kissed him. Trip sighed, laid his head on the Captain's shoulder. "Tell me about your day," he repeated.

Archer was on the verge of telling the younger man that nothing much of interest had happened, then realized that for Trip, confined as he was, "nothing much" was still more than "nothing at all".

"Jon?"

"Patience, brat. I'm thinking." Archer stroked Trip's hair, and then began to describe his day, surprising himself by the amount of detail he was able to remember as his narrative unfolded. Trip listened avidly and asked a number of questions. Archer, seeing the engineer's interest, made a promise to himself that from now on, he would give Trip a complete rundown each and every day. It was the least he could do. When he finished, he smiled and kissed Trip. "That's it. Now tell me about your day."

Trip sighed. "Not much to tell," he said sadly. "Sleep, sleep and sleep some more."

"Any good dreams?"

"No."

"Bad ones?"

"No, none of them, either."

"Well, that's a start, isn't it?"

"Hadn't thought of it that way," Trip confessed.

Archer stroked his forehead. "Now you can."

"Thanks."

"No, thank you."

Trip looked surprised. "What for?"

"For being you." At Trip's obvious confusion, he laughed. "Never mind."

He kissed Trip again, and as he did, he thought, Don't you worry, Malcolm. I know exactly what I have. Trip. And I also know how very, very lucky I am.

* * *

"No."

"Yes."

"I can't."

"Yes, you can."

"Please."

"Sorry."

"Jon, please." Trip was pleading with him. "Please don't make me."

Archer hardened his heart. "Come on. You know you can."

"Jon – no."

"Yes."

Archer held the spoon up to Trip's mouth. "Just a little more, and you're all done."

Slowly, Trip obeyed, swallowing the applesauce.

"See? You can do it," Archer praised him. "You're nearly finished," he added encouragingly, and held up another spoonful. Trip sighed, but ate.

"There. Whoops." Archer gently wiped a spot off of Trip's chin. "Missed that one." He held the spoon up again. "Last one." He stopped, when he saw tears in Trip's eyes. "Hey, hey, hey. What's this? The applesauce isn't that bad, is it?"

He'd hoped that would coax a smile from the younger man, but no such luck. Instead, Trip turned his face away, scrubbed angrily at his eyes.

Archer placed his hand under Trip's chin, gently turned his face so that he was looking into his lover's eyes. "What all this about?"

Trip looked at him, eyes brimming. "You're the goddamned Captain, that's what! And look at you! Spoon feeding me, wiping off my chin! It's not right!"

Archer shook his head. "I think I'd better call Phlox. You're obviously sicker than I thought." Trip stared at him. Archer smiled and continued. "Sick enough that you've forgotten our agreement."

"What agreement? You playing nursemaid? I never agreed to that!"

"No. That's not what I meant." He gestured towards the door. "Out there, on duty, then yes, I am the Captain. And you're the Chief Engineer. But in here? Then we're Jon and Trip. That's all. No ranks. Remember?"

"But still. Feeding me ... "

Archer leaned forward, gave him a light kiss. "If my feeding you gets you eating, which in turn gets you feeling better, then yes, I'll feed you. Gladly. And it won't be a job, or a chore – it'll be a privilege. I'm happy to be able to do that for you."

Trip was unconvinced. "But – "

"But nothing." He kissed Trip again. "You taste like applesauce."

This earned him a weak smile. "You really don't mind?"

"I really don't."

"There's not much in it for you, though, is there?"

"That's what you think. I'm getting a necking session out of it, aren't I?" Archer nuzzled the engineer’s neck. “Literally,” he added impishly.

Trip smiled – a real smile this time. "I think I'm the one coming out ahead on that score."

"Says you." Archer picked up the bowl and spoon again. "We'll finish this off, okay?"

"You mean I'll finish it off," Trip corrected, but swallowed the last of his lunch nonetheless.

"Very good," Archer praised. "Wasn't so bad now, was it?" At Trip's nod, he smiled and said, "You've been very good."

Trip looked up at him. "Do I get a reward?"

Archer sighed exaggeratedly. "You're spoiled rotten, you know that, don't you?"

"And whose fault is that?"

Archer laughed. "Guilty as charged." He leaned forward, gave Trip a long, lingering kiss. He then adjusted Trip's side of the bed so that the engineer was lying flat. "Now that your tummy's full, you're going to have a good, long nap. Aren't you?"

"My 'tummy'?" Trip repeated, disbelieving. "Who are you – and what have you done with the real Jonathan Archer?"

Laughing, Archer shook his head. "Sorry. You're right. That was a bit much, wasn't it?"

"No kidding."

"But you are going to rest, aren't you? And I'll see you later. Maybe by then, I'll be able to tell you how the whole Rostov – MacFarlane thing turned out."

"It was just a spat. You'll see."

"Want to bet?"

"Sure. 'Cause I know you'll lose."

Archer could see that the engineer was tiring. "We'll talk about it when I come home, okay?"

"Okay," Trip said drowsily.

Archer kissed him. "See you later, brat."

"Spoiled brat," Trip corrected, and then was asleep.

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