"Hey."

"Hey yourself."

"Trip?"

The engineer stopped on his way to the shower.  "Yeah?"

"You doing anything tonight?"

"Hadn't planned on it.  Why?"

"Just curious."

When no more information was forthcoming, Trip shrugged and headed into the bathroom.

He emerged a little while later in his off-duty clothes, vigorously toweling his blond hair dry.  "Ah," he said, flopping down on the couch beside Archer.  "That feels better."

"Rough day?"

"No more so than usual."

"How's your back?"

"Better.  Phlox gave me a treatment today.  You know," he said, grinning, "I never realized your back can make those kind of noises.  He cracked it, and I swear I jumped a foot.  Felt a lot better, though."

"Good.  You seeing him again?"

"In a couple of days.  He wants to do acupuncture, too.  And he gave me some stretching exercises.  And a whole load of advice on posture and all that."

"I'll bet."

"Some of his suggestions," Trip shrugged.  "Kind of hard to follow when you're crawling around an access hatch."

"Do your best."

"I'll try."

They sat in companionable silence for a moment.  Then Archer asked casually, "No plans tonight?"

Trip raised a quizzical brow.  "I told you already, no.  Why?"

"Just double-checking."

"You're up to something," Trip accused.

"What makes you think that?" Archer asked, all innocence.

"Because I know you, that's why."

"Don't you trust me?"

"About as far as I could toss the warp core."

"That much, huh?"

"Comforting, isn't it?"

"Brat."

"Tell me something I don't know."

"Okay."

After a moment's silence, Trip raised his brows.  "Well?"

"Well, what?"

Trip exhaled.  "You really are a bastard."

Archer grinned.  "Tell me something I don't know."

*  *  *

"Okay," Trip said patiently.  They were standing in front of a cargo bay hatch.  "Cargo bay two.  And?"

"You'll see," Archer promised him.  "Trust me?"

"About as far as I – "

"Seriously."

"Seriously?  With my life."

Archer smiled.  "Then close your eyes."

"What?"

"Trip.  Please."

Trip gave an exaggerated sigh, but obediently closed his eyes.

"No peeking," Archer warned him.

"I promise," Trip said, in the tone of a nurse humoring a fractious patient.  "No peeking."

"Good."  Archer took him by the hand, opened the hatch. "Mind the step," he warned as he guided the engineer through the doorway.

He led a mystified Trip across the cargo bay floor.  "Just a little farther," he promised.  "Okay.  You can open them now."

Trip did so, and discovered two chairs sitting in front of a large screen.  He turned to Archer.  "What's this?"

"You missed the movie the other night."

"Well, yeah, but – "

"I know how much you were looking forward to it.  And between me and Phlox, we made you miss it.  So," he gestured at the screen.  "A private showing."  He took Trip's hand again and led him to the seats.  They sat. 

Archer reached under his chair, handed Trip a bowl.  "Popcorn."  He reached again.  "Beer."  He picked up a remote control, dimmed the lights.  "It's a double bill," he told Trip.  "Plus a couple of cartoons thrown in."  He put his arm around the engineer's shoulders.  "Not quite the same as Movie Night, I know."

Trip smiled at him.  "Better in some ways, actually."

*  *  *

"Mmm."  Trip broke off the kiss.  We're supposed to be watching the movie," he pointed out.

"It's the 'B' movie," Archer responded.  "And it's also the love scene.  Don't you know your basic traditions?"

"Which are?"

"Well, in this case – necking during the love scene."

"Oh. Well, in that case."

"What?"

"Who am I to question tradition?"

"In other words?"

"Carry on."

*  *  *

The End flashed across the screen.

Trip stretched.  "That was good."

"It was," Archer agreed.

"Does that mean you're starting to appreciate the art of the cinema?"

"No.  But I like movies."

Trip laughed.  "Fair enough.  Think you might start coming to Movie Night, then?"

"Maybe.  Definitely if there are more like this."

"Mmm."  When they drew apart, Trip suddenly laughed.

"You laughing at my technique, Mister?"

"Well," Trip began, teasing.  He grinned.  "No, actually, I just realized.  This could be considered our first date."

Archer looked at him.  "You're right.  And we've been sleeping together for months, too."

"What does that say about us, then?"

"That we're both easy?"

"I was going to say different.  But easy works, too."

*  *  *

It was late night by the ship's clock as they made their way back to their quarters, holding hands as they walked along.  Generally, they preferred not to call attention to their off-duty relationship, so when out in public, both were circumspect in their behavior. But as there was little chance of anyone coming across them now, they were both willing to relax these self-imposed restrictions.

Archer smiled at Trip, who smiled back.  The Captain thought, once again, what an attractive smile Trip had.  And how glad he was that Trip finally had something to smile about.  "Have a good time tonight?" he asked.

Trip smiled again.  "Why?  Don't I look like I've had a good time?"

"Just checking."

"Well, you know me.  I'd holler if I didn't."

Archer stopped, and Trip did so as well.  "That's the problem," Archer said.  Trip raised an inquiring brow.  "I do know you," Archer elaborated.  "And the fact is, you don't holler.  You put up with a lot of bull from me, and you do it far more gracefully than I would if our positions were reversed."

"Well," Trip pointed out quietly, "I have my reasons."

"I know.  I guess tonight was just my way of saying thanks."

Trip looked about to ensure they were alone.  Then he leaned forward and kissed his Captain.  "You're welcome."

*  *  *

"Been a long day," Trip observed as they entered their quarters.  "Look – even Porthos is asleep."  The beagle was stretched out on his little bed, oblivious to everything.

"You tired?" Archer asked him.

"Yeah – but good tired, if you know what I mean."

"I do.  Ready for bed?"

Trip smiled.  "Sounds good."  Then to Archer's pleased surprise, he turned, took Archer's face in between his hands and kissed him thoroughly and passionately.  Archer felt his breath come a little faster.  "I thought you were tired."

"Not too tired to say thanks."

Archer gave him a hungry look.  "You really want to say thanks properly?"  At Trip's nod, he said, "Then take your clothes off.  Now."

Trip smiled again, and began to slowly undo the buttons on his shirt.  Never taking his eyes from Archer's face, he deliberately slid his shirt off, dropped it on the floor.  Then, with equal slowness and deliberation, his jeans were next.  He stood, smiling impishly, clad only in his briefs.

"Everything," Archer said hoarsely.  When Trip simply smiled impudently at him, he reached, grabbed the younger man and pulled the briefs off.  "Brat," he added before pushing Trip onto their bed.

Trip stretched luxuriously, slowly, teasingly.  "And what are you going to do about it?"

Archer began pulling his own clothes off.  "Teach you some manners."

"Is that what you're calling it now?  Manners?"

"It'll do," Archer growled.

He bent, kissed Trip roughly.  His lover responded with equal fervor, and Archer began running his hands along Trip.  He was not interested in teasing or finesse; that would be for later.  "You'd better say your prayers, brat," he warned the younger man. 

Trip grinned.  "I'm terrified."

Archer shrugged.  "You've been warned."

He reached, began fondling Trip while kissing him.  Trip made a small sound, deep in his throat, and shifted.  A few strokes and Trip was erect and ready for more. 

Archer broke the kiss and prepared himself.  "Over," he ordered.  Trip obeyed, laying on his side.  He moaned when he felt the older man enter him, cried out when Archer began thrusting; powerful, demanding, insistent thrusts.  "Go ahead," Archer told him as he continued.  He stroked Trip's sex in time with his motions.  "These quarters are sound-proofed."

Trip arched his back and cried out again as his climax hit.  Archer joined him as his own orgasm burst through him, making his own delight audible. 

Slowly, Trip relaxed.  As Archer withdrew, he rolled onto his back, looked drowsily up at Archer.  "Like I said," he said dreamily, "thanks."

Archer gave him a dangerous smile.  "And like I said, brat – say your prayers."

*  *  *

Trip bit his lip to keep from crying out.  Jon had not been joking; he was now in the process of extracting a very specific revenge for Trip's earlier impudence.  After an all-too-brief rest, Jon had started to caressing him again, ignoring Trip's protests.

His lover's skilled and insistent attentions had soon achieved the desired results.  And then Jon began to tease him; bringing him to the brink and then drawing him back down again.

Trip stared at the ceiling.  The room was silent, except for the whisper of Jon's hands as they moved across him, and his own ragged breathing.

It took every bit of willpower he had not to make a sound.  His silence was part of their game, the point of which was that Jon would do his utmost to compel Trip to, at the very least, make some noise, and to beg for release at the most.  Of course, Jon always appeared to win, as eventually Trip could not contain himself.  But Trip knew who the real winner was.

He closed his eyes.  Jon was bringing him to the edge. Again.  This was the fourth time, and Trip knew that he was not going to be able to hold out for much longer.  He shifted very slightly.

At this, Jon began using his tongue.  Trip clenched his fists.  Even his toes were starting to curl, and he knew that the game was going to be over soon.

Jon slowed down.  "Shall I stop?"

Trip kept resolutely silent.  He kept his eyes on the ceiling, refusing to look at Jon.  He closed his eyes as Jon began his attentions.  Again.  Slowly, very, very slowly, he continued to torment the erect, aching shaft that was begging for mercy and a reprieve from the delicious torture it was being subjected to.

Despite himself, Trip arched his back.  Jon ignored this, keeping up the same slow, maddening pace.  Finally, Trip had to admit defeat.  He moaned softly.

"What was that?"

"Oh God," Trip groaned.  "Jon ... "

"Ask nicely, brat."

"Bastard!"

"Now is that nice?" Jon asked, slowly stroking him, causing him to tremble and whimper.

"Jon ... "

"I'm listening."

Trip arched his back, whimpered again.  "Dammit, Jon – I'm asking!  Please!"

A few swift strokes was Jon's response.  And finally, Trip climaxed.  Noisily.  He arched his back and screamed his pleasure so loudly that, sound-proofing notwithstanding, he was sure everyone onboard knew what had just happened.

He even woke Porthos up.

Heart thudding wildly, he collapsed back onto the mattress and lay, too worn out to move.  He felt Jon clean him off.  His lover lay beside him, took him in those powerful arms.  Trip found himself being gently, lovingly kissed over and over again.

"Brat," Jon said tenderly, and with great affection.

"Bastard," Trip replied happily, and wrapped his arms around his lover.  Jon began to stroke his back, causing him to sigh in contentment.

"I'm going to hate you in the morning," Trip told him.  "I'm going to be exhausted."  He chuckled.  "Going to be?  Hell, I am."

Jon nuzzled his neck.  "I can't allow that," he replied.  "Phlox will kill me.  He already thinks you've been working too hard."

"He does, does he?"

"He's not the only one, either."

"Oh yeah?  So what are you going to do about it?"

"I'm going to keep you in bed tomorrow."

"I see."

"And if you're really lucky, I'll even let you sleep."

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