An Unexpected Attraction - Part 10
See Part 1 for heading/disclaimer information.
*Malcolm*
We were
sitting in the mess hall having breakfast when it happened. Travis and Trip
were discussing the relative merits of the movie from last night. I was eating
my breakfast, part of my attention on their conversation, while I lost myself
in recollections of my previous night's activities, relishing the minor
soreness of my arse as proof positive it hadn't just been some vivid wet dream.
So at first, the low voices behind me didn't register.
"I
tell you, they were making out during the movie last night."
"Well,
I haven't seen anything unusual. What's it to you anyway?"
"Nothing,
I suppose. Never thought he'd be gay, though. What about all those alien
chicks?"
"Who knows.
Who cares. Although it does give new meaning to the phrase 'working under the
Commander,' eh?"
The two
unseen crewmen finished getting their food and headed off for a table. I
realized I was sitting frozen in my seat, a forkful of food stopped halfway to
my mouth. Trip had covered his face with one hand and Travis was looking back
and forth between the two of us as if he were observing a tennis match.
"So
much for being discreet, hey?"
I realized
Trip had decided to just go along with it and be amused instead of embarrassed
or angry. He smiled at me, but I could tell both he and Travis were holding
their breath. Waiting to see how I was going to react. I let out the breath I
hadn't realized I was holding and consciously relaxed myself, lowering my arm
and releasing the death grip I'd had on my fork.
"Yes,
I believe discreet isn't working for us anymore."
I tried to
mimic his light, amused tone. I was only minimally successful, but it was the
effort that counted. Both of them relaxed, almost slumping back in their
chairs. Relieved, I supposed, that they weren't going to have to try and stop
me from rearranging the internal organs of a certain two members of the crew.
"So,
you two *have* been seeing each other?"
Where
angels fear to tread, I'm sure you'll find Travis' footprints. I looked up at
Trip, who winked at me and smiled. I rolled my eyes.
"Okay,
I'll take that as a yes." Travis looked at me speculatively. "I thought
there was something different about you."
"What?"
I spluttered, shifting on my sore arse slightly, wondering if he'd meant that
like it sounded.
"You've
seemed happier recently, that's all." Travis seemed honestly confused by
my reaction. Although judging by Trip's wide grin, he knew exactly what I'd
been thinking. His hand patted my leg reassuringly under the table.
"Happier?
Yes, I suppose I have." I looked down at my now unappetizing,
half-finished breakfast. "And I believe I'll head out to the Armory now,
before someone decides that all three of us are involved in some bizarre
romantic liaison." Trip threw back his head and cackled loudly at that,
while Travis gave me a look that said I'd be regretting my words sometime very soon.
I spent the
next few hours in the Armory watching my team for any sign that they'd heard
the rumors that would soon be running rampant throughout the ship. But I was
still feeling too good from last night to be bothered by what little I
noticed.
Lunch time
was an experience. The captain invited both Trip and me to his private mess.
I didn't quite feel up to the task of facing the captain in private yet, but it
appeared I had no choice. Trip and I arrived together and crossed the eerily
silent mess hall. We entered the captain's mess and as the door started to
close, there was a sudden roar as conversation started up again. I sighed
heavily and Trip put his hand on my shoulder sympathetically.
"It'll
blow over quick, Malcolm. Soon as Crewman Connor blows another hole in the
Armory decking," he joked.
The captain
hadn't arrived yet, so we milled around the room, waiting for him to show up.
It wasn't more than five minutes before the door swooshed and he stalked in,
trailed by a couple of stewards. He waved us out of attention and went to take
his chair, Trip and I following once he was seated. No one spoke while the
stewards served our meal and withdrew. The captain looked like he was about to
burst, so Trip and I waited. We didn't have to wait long. As soon as the door
closed behind the last steward, the captain looked at each of us in turn, a big
smile on his face.
"Soooo,
I'm guessing all the rumors I'm not supposed to be hearing are true? Are
congratulations finally in order?" he asked, taking a gulp of his water.
"What
rumors would you be talking about, Cap'n?" Trip inquired innocently,
taking a bite of his lunch and flicking his eyes briefly at me.
The captain
snorted in amusement and pointed his forkful of pasta at Trip and then at me. "The
two of you. Dating. *Those* rumors. And don't act all innocent, Trip. You
were the one who came to see *me* about this not so long ago, remember?"
I was
flummoxed. I lowered the fork that had been on its way to my mouth and looked
inquiringly across the table at Trip. Amazingly, he flushed. I turned my gaze
on the captain next. That hardy soul actually squirmed in his chair.
"Oh, I
guess Trip didn't tell you about that, then?" Archer said ineffectually,
looking toward his blushing engineer for assistance.
"Ah,
no sir, I didn't. That was kinda between you and me," Trip said in embarrassed
disgust. "I shoulda said something I know, Malcolm, but once we
started...seeing each other, uh, more often, I thought the cap'n here oughta be
in the loop before any wild rumors started going around the ship. Didn't want
him to be the last to know, ya know?"
Trip turned
his biggest puppy-dog-eyes on me and smiled shyly. I tried to maintain my
stern expression, but it melted in the face of that double attack. A
half-smile quirked my own lips.
"Apology
accepted, Mr. Tucker," I told him tartly, raising my fork again. As I
chewed, I watched him struggle between wanting to protest that he hadn't been
apologizing for anything and wanting to keep me in a good humor. It was an
interesting battle. Apparently my mood won out, because aside from a grunt,
Trip didn't say anything else and began tucking into his own lunch.
The captain
didn't pry too much, he must have sensed it was a touchy subject right now. I
could see that Trip and I needed to have a real talk about this strange
relationship of ours. Now that it was common knowledge that we were seeing
each other, or just shagging, depending on the rumor, I thought it would be
prudent to decide between us what the real story was. My mind threw up an
image of what Trip might do if I told him the true depth of my feelings for him
and I snorted softly in internal amusement. I dimly heard my name being called
and jerked back to reality. Both Trip and the captain were grinning widely at
me.
"Enterprise to Lieutenant Reed, you in there
Malcolm?"
"Sorry,
I was...thinking," I stammered, feeling my cheeks redden. Trip exchanged
a look with the captain and they both burst out laughing. They eventually
calmed enough to once more offer me some dessert and then the meal was over and
I nearly rushed out the door. The mess hall was deserted now, so there was no
one to witness Trip reaching out and grabbing my shoulder, stopping my headlong
flight out of there.
"Hold
up, Malcolm."
I stopped
and as I turned to face him, he let go of my shoulder and grabbed my hand.
"We
need to talk about this," he stated it more than asked. I nodded.
"How about we have dinner and then go somewhere after and talk." He
paused and waggled his eyebrows at me. "I've heard some really good
rumors today, gave me some ideas," he teased. I shook my head and laughed
at his expression.
"That
would be fine. Dinner at 1800?"
"Sounds
good. Want me ta walk you back to the Armory, start some more tongues
wagging?"
I smiled my
most evil smile and leaned toward his ear.
"The
only tongue I want wagging is yours," I whispered. Then I turned and
walked briskly out of the mess hall, leaving Trip standing in open-mouthed
amazement.
***
*Trip*
I'd known
what I was doing after the movie, making a move on Malcolm in full view of at
least a dozen crew members. Maybe it wasn't the smartest thing I've ever done,
but he'd looked so damned vulnerable, sitting there, staring up at me with a
hurt look on his face. My feelings for him were gelling and I knew damned well
he wasn't indifferent to me, so I did what I always do and jumped first and
left the questions for later.
Well, later
was here and the questions were incoming. The captain had already had his turn
with me. His concern of course, after making sure I wasn't playing some sick
mind game with his armory officer, was how this would affect the ship,
specifically crew discipline and morale. We discussed it at some length,
actually, and we both agreed that unless there was some demonstration of
favoritism regarding Malcolm and I, either between the two of us personally or
from the captain himself, our relationship shouldn't adversely affect the ship's
routine.
It had been
almost surreal, sitting with the captain discussing a relationship that in truth,
didn't actually exist yet, at least, not in the way everyone now assumed. No
one would ever hear how we started seeing each other, Malcolm and I had agreed
on that much right from the beginning. Now, all that remained for me was to
find out exactly what Malcolm expected.
I knew he
wanted me. He'd made that abundantly clear. But was it just me physically
that he wanted, or was he prepared for the entire package deal? He'd seen me
at my worst, and I'd like to think, at my best. He brings out the best in me.
It sounds sappy even saying it only inside my head, but it's the simple truth.
When he's with me, I'm a better person. I want him to be proud of me, to
admire me. To love me? That's the crux of the whole situation, really. He
wants me, but does he *love* me?
I want him,
desperately sometimes, but is what I feel for him love? I've never considered
love in this sense where another man is concerned. I'm confused as to why it
makes a difference. I love Jon, he's the closest thing to a brother I've got.
But I'm not "in love" with him, his mere presence doesn't make my
heart beat faster. I'd even say I love Hoshi and Travis, but that's a close
friend kind of affection. Despite Malcolm's jokes, being intimate with them
hasn't ever crossed my mind. And to be brutally honest, being intimate with
Malcolm hadn't crossed my mind either, until he brought it up. Did I distrust
the feeling simply because I didn't spontaneously come up with it myself?
I was
jolted out of my thoughts by the alarm I'd set so I wouldn't be late for dinner
with Malcolm. I hastily made sure I looked presentable and hurried off to
collect Malcolm on my way to the mess. We ignored the sudden lull in
conversation that again accompanied our entry into the mess hall. This time we
collected our meals, found an empty table and sat down. We ate in silence,
aware of being surreptitiously watched by nearly everyone in the room.
"Maybe
this wasn't such a good idea after all," I suggested, after watching
Malcolm try to choke down his food.
"What
happened to if we ignore it, it will go away?" he asked blandly, spearing
another piece of meat and chewing thoughtfully. As Malcolm looked casually
around the room, numerous pairs of guilty eyes dropped away hastily. He smiled
at me and gestured toward my still mostly full tray.
"May
I?" he asked politely, before sampling the sauteed squash I'd picked out.
"Oh, that's very nice. Try some?" he held out his fork, a piece of
the squash attached to it, offering to feed me. I studied him for a moment
before I opened my mouth to his sensual invasion, accepting the food, closing
my lips over the tines of his fork as he slid it back out, minus the squash. Which
actually was pretty tasty.
"Unless
I'm very mistaken, this isn't ignoring the rumors, this is pretty much feeding
them," I told him with a smile.
"I
thought I was feeding you," Malcolm responded lightly. "More?"
I hesitated,
looking down at my tray.
"I'm
not really all that hungry," I said finally, "You want to go
someplace more private? I think we need to talk."
I'd never
actually seen anyone turn white before, thought it was just one of those
figures of speech, but that's exactly what Malcolm did. He got this shocked
look, and I watched the blood just drain out of his face. I thought for a
second he was going to either faint or spew. I groped about blindly for his
hand, my eyes riveted to his.
Then it
happened.
The
piercing shriek of the tactical alert claxons sounded and we heard the
disembodied voice of the captain ordering us to stations. Malcolm and I
exchanged a wide-eyed look before leaping to our feet and dashing from the
room.