An Unexpected Attraction - Part 13
See Part 1 for heading/disclaimer information.
*Trip*
"Damn
it, Malcolm, *push*! Put some muscle into it!"
"I
*am* pushing, you bloody Yank!"
We were in
the gym, working on Malcolm's arm strength. It had been a long, arduous
recuperation, for me as well as Malcolm, I don't mind saying. Even Phlox had
taken to repeatedly pointing out to his impatient English patient, that not so
long ago, it would have taken at least twice as long for Malcolm to recover to
the degree he already had. I knew the forced inactivity was twisting his guts,
but sometimes Malcolm could try the patience of a saint. And I was certainly
no saint.
Despite
exchanging the "L-word", or maybe because of it, we started having
some arguments of truly epic proportion. Malcolm called them
"disagreements", but I tell ya, when I'm yelling at the top of my
lungs about someone's insistence on trying to do too much, too soon...well,
that's *not* a disagreement. I think Phlox has starting writing a paper on
us.
We'd
started using rubber resistance bands for his physical therapy. Malcolm had
protested what he called a "sissy workout", but those wimpy pieces of
tubing were almost kicking his ass. He was getting tired now and I was about
ready to call the workout quits for the day. Travis and Hoshi were here today,
using the exercise bikes, and judging from the chuckles, were thoroughly
enjoying the show.
"One
more set, Malcolm, then you can hit the showers," I said encouragingly.
His face twisting in concentration, he pushed his shaking arm out again. He
didn't make eight more reps, but it was more than yesterday. And better
yesterday than the day before. Steady progress. Malcolm sat back on the
bench, grabbed his towel and wiped off his face.
"Bloody
hell, that hurts," he said, flexing his arm and waggling his fingers.
Phlox had privately told me that his recovery was nothing short of miraculous.
Everything worked, and even the loss of sensation he'd had in his fingers had
mostly receded, thank God. All that remained was for him to strengthen the
muscles that had been damaged and atrophied during his recuperation. I came up
behind him and started rubbing his neck and shoulders.
"I
could massage that for you," I said suggestively, "with some of
Phlox's magic cream."
"Hmmm,
you do know how to motivate me," Malcolm responded, leaning back against
me with a sigh. "Feet?"
"Whatever
you want, for as long as you want it," I said agreeably, snickering as I
gathered up our workout gear and shoved it back into a gym bag. I'd quickly
discovered Malcolm's secret passion for foot rubs. Nothing reduced him to a
purring puddle of pleasure better than a long, leisurely foot massage. Well,
except for some other massage techniques I was also becoming rather skilled at.
"G'night
Hoshi, 'night Travis," I called, waving my hand briefly as Malcolm and I
headed for the door. Their goodnight wishes echoed behind us as we hit the
corridor. I slung the gym bag up to my shoulder and Malcolm put his arm around
my waist, giving me a gentle squeeze as we made our way to the lift.
***
*Hoshi*
Commander
Tucker and Lieutenant Reed are so adorable together. And they'd both probably
try to stuff me out an airlock if I ever dared mention it. There were rumors
about the two of them being together months ago, but either the rumors were
premature or the two of them were just incredibly discreet. Communication
isn't all verbal by any means, and as a linguist, I've got an eye for that sort
of thing. It actually wasn't until the lieutenant was seriously injured that I
saw them display any affection for each other in public at all. And never on
duty, although I think that's probably Lieutenant Reed's influence; Commander
Tucker is pretty impulsive.
I think
they're good for each other. Lieutenant Reed was always so withdrawn and formal,
we used to joke about the quartermaster using extra starch in his underwear.
And Commander Tucker, well, there was also a running joke that if you looked up
insubordination in Starfleet regulations, the commander had his own section.
They're both so different, yet they fit so well together. The lieutenant has
eased up on his reserved British persona while the commander seems to have
matured in some positive ways. Yin and yang. I'm almost jealous.
***
*Trip*
Between
repairing the damage to Enterprise and dealing with Malcolm's
recuperation and therapy, the two of us really haven't had much quality time
just to be alone together. But the repairs were finished long ago, we were
once more in a quiet sector, and Malcolm now had Phlox's grudging approval to
return to what he termed "light" duty.
I'd been
biding my time, letting us both get comfortable with the fundamental change in
our relationship. And for the crew to stop giving us the fish eye whenever the
two of us were somewhere public together. It was kinda amusing at first, but
it got tiresome real quick. Plus it made Malcolm real squirrelly.
I decided
to arrange a private romantic evening for the two of us. I desperately wanted
some uninterrupted time alone with my beautiful lover. So I gave the captain
one of my best sob stories and wangled a day off for both me and Malcolm, then
got Jon to throw in a bottle of one of those fancy wines chef has under lock
and key. Chef has a romantic streak a mile wide, and it didn't take much
coaxing on my part to get him to fix us up with a special meal. And T'Pol only
stared at me for a couple of seconds before agreeing to let me have some of her
meditation candles.
***
*Malcolm*
I knew Trip
was up to something - he doesn't do sneaky very well. I, on the other hand, am
quite skilled at it, but in this instance I quelled my desire to snoop about
and find out what it was he was planning. Sometimes surprise is a positive
thing. Besides, he was obviously enjoying himself immensely.
It was
movie night once again. For some reason, movie night has figured prominently
in our relationship. It's like our navigational beacon for romance. So I
readily agreed when Trip asked me to meet him in his quarters before the
movie. I believe Phlox was deliberately holding me in sickbay, because as soon
as Trip called to see how much longer my check-up would take, the doctor
immediately told me I was making satisfactory progress and could leave.
I went
directly to Trip's quarters, wondering what I'd find, and if this was the
surprise he'd alluded to a few days earlier. He met me at the door, for once
wearing a tasteful shirt with his jeans. I smiled in appreciation as he let me
in, then looked beyond him into the dimly lit room. I could see a small table
set for two, with covered serving trays on a trolley beside it. Greenery and
candles decorated the table, a bottle of wine was cooling nearby and soft music
was playing. I gawked first at the table, then at Trip.
"Surprise?"
Trip said, waiting for my reaction. He'd obviously gone to a lot of trouble
arranging this.
"It's
wonderful, Trip," I said, smiling widely. "What's the
occasion?"
"Since
when do I need an excuse to spend some time alone with you?" Trip
inquired, pulling me to him and playfully grabbing a handful of backside.
"Time
is one thing, this is...spectacular. You went to a lot of trouble. And you
wore a decent shirt." I found my own handful of Trip as I leaned forward
to share a sizzling kiss, causing him to groan and arch forward into me.
"God,
Malcolm," he panted, when I set him loose. "I think I can feel brain
cells exploding when you do that."
"Dinner
first, explosions later," I told him, before I wandered over to check
things out in more detail. I couldn't tell what we'd be eating, but it smelled
heavenly. I lifted the wine bottle and pursed my lips in a silent whistle when
I realized what it was. And where he must have got it.
I felt
hands on my back, sliding up to my shoulders. I carefully set the bottle back
in its cooler and turned around into Trip's arms. We shared some more long,
leisurely kisses, swaying unconsciously to the music.
"You
get the wine, I'll see to dinner," Trip finally whispered, kissing my
earlobe before he drew back.
It was a
marvelous evening. The food and wine were beyond superb, my companion,
sublime. We gave up using the cutlery about halfway through the meal and began
using our fingers to feed each other. Tongues replaced napkins immediately
after that, and let's just say that dessert turned into a total body
experience.
We lounged
on the bed, music still playing, Trip's body a welcome weight on mine. I felt
totally content. If I could, I'd be purring.
"Malcolm?"
"Hmmm?"
"Is
there anyone else on board you'd consider a serious relationship with?"
Trip asked casually.
"What?"
My eyes snapped open and I frowned at him.
"Well,
I understand you have pretty high standards and all...," he drawled
suggestively.
"Ah, I
see. Well, there is one very special person I've had my eye on for a
while," I responded playfully, catching on to his game. "Gorgeous,
intelligent, really enormous...ego," I continued teasingly.
"Sounds
like quite the catch." He pinched my butt lightly. "You interested
in something exclusive and long-term with this person, then? Maybe
something...official?" He was still being casual, but I understood the
serious subtext to his banter.
Hmmm, I
suppose I'd have to think about it."
"But
you'd be interested in that kind of committed relationship?" Trip pressed.
"I'd
say, intrigued. It's not something I've had to consider before."
"I
understand. And I'm asking you to give it some serious consideration."
"I
will." I smiled, brushing my hand over Trip's cheek while we stared
deeply into each other's eyes.
"Good
enough, for now. In the meantime, though, I know of an enormous ego that could
use some gratification," he said suggestively, bumping said much inflated
ego against me. I had to laugh.
"You're
incorrigible."
"Yeah,
but you love me anyway?"
"I do
indeed. Now kiss me, and I'll take you on a little ego trip..."