�Nearly there, love.�

It was the first time in over two weeks that one or other of them hadn�t been too tired to contemplate it and, ass in the air, Trip sighed over his shoulder at his naked husband who was painstakingly preparing him for a spot of, supposedly spontaneous, lovemaking. The house was closed up for the night: curtains drawn, lights mostly out, kids asleep. However, Trip Tucker was up and raring to go � as, unfortunately, was the perfectionist dwelling inside Malcolm Reed!

Brows drawn together in concentration, Malcolm tried to ignore the impatience Trip radiated �I just want to make sure, Trip. Be patient.�

�Patient? Patient? Fer cryin� out loud, Malcolm! Ya could get the goddamned Enterprise in there! Will ya move it along? Ah�m kinda losin� the will ta live here!�

Malcolm sniffed, insulted. �Very well. You asked for it, Mr Tucker.�

�OUCH!� Trip was suddenly convinced the Enterprise was indeed berthing inside him. He tried to blink away the spots which were dancing before his eyes and started doing some of the breathing routines in which he�d seen Malcolm engage, to try to control pain shortly before Charlie was born. They hadn�t worked then either.

Eventually, though, discomfort gave way to pleasure and both men began to remember why they�d been together for so long. Trip breathlessly urged Malcolm on, trembling with anticipation as he felt his lover�s hand slip around under him, sliding across his belly and down, down, down towards �

�Daddy! What�s you doin� to Poppa?�

Malcolm froze. Then, in a voice slightly higher and rougher than usual, Trip heard him answer their younger son: �Jo-Jo! What are you doing up? Come on, pumpkin, let�s get you back to the Land of Nod.�

He extricated himself from Trip and got out of bed, pulling on his robe and flipping the quilt up over his husband as he went. �Guess Poppa didn�t lock the bedroom door like I asked him.� The latter statement sounded like it was uttered through clenched teeth and Trip knew that, for the rest of the night � and possibly for several to come -- he could wave goodbye to any kind of sex that would require Malcolm�s participation!

Twenty frustrating minutes, and a resigned visit to the bathroom, later, Trip was still alone in bed and so, somewhat nervously, he rose and padded barefoot through to the boys� room. It was semi-dark, the only light coming from a revolving nightlight which projected sun, moon and star shapes onto the walls as it turned, but he could still easily see his eldest son sprawled across his bed, deeply asleep and snoring slightly.

Over by the window, Malcolm sat in the rocking chair they�d bought during his first pregnancy. He was cradling a sleeping Jon-Henry in his arms, and humming softly to himself, but he glanced up and smiled when he heard his husband�s approach. He had a rather dreamy look in his eyes and Trip frowned: �Hey, ya ain�t gittin� broody again, are ya?�

Standing slowly and quietly, so as not to waken their son, Malcolm made his way to Jon-Henry�s bed and expertly installed the child in it, deftly soothing him right back to sleep when he stirred slightly and whimpered.

Turning his attention to Trip, he smiled a little sadly and slid his arm around him as they headed back to bed. �No. I wouldn�t put you through all that again. Actually, I was just thinking how much I love you, even though you can�t do a simple thing like lock the bedroom door.�

-/-

As the first rays of morning sunlight peeked shyly between the curtains, orchestrated chaos broke out in the Tucker-Reed household. Both Charlie and Jon-Henry appeared to have inherited Malcolm�s tendency to wake at dawn, along with Trip�s inability to do so cheerfully, and it made for a fraught start to the day.

By the time Trip was dressed and stumbling downstairs, though, Malcolm�s breakfast routine was well underway and operating with military precision. Although Trip was back in uniform, having returned to work with Starfleet once his husband was well enough to manage at home without him, Malcolm had opted to remain a full-time parent, occasionally doing a little weapons development work for Starfleet if they asked for his expertise.

Ruminating over a piece of toast and some thick black coffee, Trip sleepily watched his husband -- and found himself grinning. Malcolm had changed so much! The tense, touchy, Starfleet automaton he�d met so many years ago was long gone, replaced by the loving husband and besotted father he now knew.

On several different counts, fatherhood had been good for Malcolm. Whilst learning to take care of small, vulnerable children (and a rather harebrained husband) he had learned to care for himself. In contrast to his days on Enterprise, he now ate and slept enough and was no longer careless of his own safety, in the name of protecting others. At long last, he was realising his own value.

It was a slow and ongoing process, Trip reflected, but Malcolm�s sense of self-worth had been steadily improving since the awful weeks after Jon-Henry �s birth, when he thought he was going to lose him forever. The pale ghost of a man, painfully thin and looking like he weighed little more than a child himself, was gone, replaced by the lithe, energetic creature before him � thriving on being wanted, needed and, if the growing warmth in the vicinity of Trip�s groin was anything to go by, damned desirable!

Following an early-morning tussle between the boys -- which resulted in a bump to Jon-Henry�s nose, making it bleed profusely for a while and causing enough tears to float an armada -- Malcolm was currently comforting Jon-Henry whilst, simultaneously, scolding Charlie for bullying his brother and stuffing blood-stained sheets into the washing machine.

Preferring to wait until his husband and sons were attended to before taking care of his own ablutions, Malcolm had donned a ratty pair of jeans and a baggy sweater then, enchantingly dishevelled, plunged into the domestic tasks at which he�d proved to be surprisingly adept. Perhaps making up for his own loveless and austere childhood, he was a born nest-builder and he captivated Trip � both in and out of bed.

It invariably took the engineer several attempts before he could drag himself away from his little family and it was during one of his brief dalliances with Malcolm, en route to the front door, that he noticed the light blinking on their comm-unit.

�Looks like we�ve got messages, darlin��

The smaller man was focused on re-zipping Trip�s uniform after a little impromptu collarbone nibbling. �Mmm. I�ll pick them up later, love. If there�s anything important, I�ll call you at work. Might as well take advantage of you being a desk-jockey at Starfleet Engineering.�

Trip gazed into the clear grey eyes, which were now smiling up at him �Yer always takin� advantage of me, darlin�. But don� ever stop!�

Finally seeing Trip off and making his way to the comm-unit, Malcolm paused to pick up a trail of toys, right an upturned lamp and return a missing shoe to a wayward infant. He smiled in contentment. Who�d have thought he�d be so happy in such a domestic setting? Fatherhood had changed him completely!

Watching his first baby sleep in his crib, tiny, perfect and helpless, he�d felt his protective instincts flare � but the old aggression was gone. Instead of spoiling for a fight, wanting to blow the bad guys to kingdom come, he suddenly saw the value in seeking a peaceful solution. He didn�t want his children to suffer in some violent conflict that could have been avoided by getting a few diplomats sitting around a table together.

A shriek from the next room startled him from his daydream and he was off again, messages forgotten, to, once more, lecture Charlie on the folly of bullying!

One thing led to another throughout the day and it was only an hour before Trip was due home again that Malcolm remembered the com light was blinking. �Damn! Hope there wasn�t anything important.�

He pressed the �play� button and listened to the messages whilst sorting the newly dry laundry. Mostly, they were non-urgent calls and he let them wash over him while his attention was elsewhere. However, the sudden stridency of a, very English, female voice made him whirl in time to see a severe, fair-haired naval officer on the com screen. �Malcolm! I�m not in the habit of leaving messages on these things so you can call me back right away. Its important. Don�t dilly-dally.�

His legs suddenly weak, he sank down on a chair as the screen went dark: �Madeline! Oh God, no!�

-/-

The memory of his rather passionate farewell with Malcolm that morning spurred Trip on to finishing his work at Starfleet engineering a little early. He bounded into the house, sweeping up the boys in a hug as they ran to greet him. �Hey you two, what have ya been up to today? Drivin� yer Daddy crazy like always?�

From the kitchen, he could hear the clattering of pots and pans and the slamming of cupboard doors. Although Malcolm�s cooking was seldom pretty, it was always edible and, occasionally, downright delicious. It was never noisy, though, so Trip felt a twinge of foreboding deep in his gut. Careful not to let his body language suggest that anything might be amiss, he put the children on the floor and sent them off to play outside in the garden before squaring his shoulders, taking a deep breath and opening the kitchen door.

�Hey, darlin�. How are ya�?�

Malcolm was currently whisking something to within an inch of its life and didn�t look up. �Fine�.

Trip felt his heart sink and decided to tackle the problem immediately. He reached around from behind his husband and hugged him, reflecting that, although Malcolm�s volatility had diminished greatly in recent years, he still wouldn�t have tried that manoeuvre if he�d been holding a knife instead of a whisk!

�What�s wrong, Malcolm? Ah may sound like a hick but ah ain�t blind nor stupid.�

The man in his arms became rigid and stopped working but remained silent. His stillness was imperfect, however, as regular tremors were running through his slender frame and Trip could feel his heart, fluttering like a trapped bird, under his hand. He buried his face in Malcolm�s dark hair, now flecked with the occasional strand of silver, then dropped kisses down to the rapid pulse visible at his throat.

The utensils were put down on the countertop and Malcolm slowly turned, still in the circle of Trip�s embrace, to gaze up at his slightly taller husband. He looked tired and defeated: �I�m sorry Trip. Old habits die hard.� Tucker enfolded Malcolm more tightly in his arms: �Its OK darlin�. Ah understan�. Shields down to 25% yet?� Malcolm chuckled: �10% and dropping. You�re a lethal weapon, love.�

Shaking hands plucked nervously at his uniform and Trip could feel Malcolm taking deep but quivering breaths as he tried to calm himself. �Jeez, darlin� yer strung tighter �n a fiddle. Ah don� think ah�ve seen ya this worked up since our weddin� day. I dunno what�s wrong but it ain�t nothin� we can�t handle together. Never forget that.�

His heart still hammering wildly, Malcolm burrowed into the crook of Trip�s neck and was hugged closer still. Eventually, he made an odd little sound, which could almost have been a short, bitter laugh. �Just when I thought I�d finally shaken them off�� His voice tailed into nothingness for a moment, then he sighed heavily. �Madeline called. Mother�s dead. She died three months ago.�

Stunned, Trip held him at arm�s length and stared at him, incredulous: �Three mon� Why the hell din� they tell ya?� Suspicion suddenly welled up and flooded to the forefront of his brain �An why�re they tellin� ya now?�

Malcolm buried his face in Trip�s shoulder but his reply, although muffled, was crystal clear �Madeline�s been promoted to Captain and given her own ship. She�s going away for an extended period and wants Father to come and live with us.�

-/-

Although Malcolm had sworn off alcohol since he first became pregnant, Trip decided now might be a good time to reintroduce him to Bourbon. Swiping a bottle of Kentucky�s finest from the cupboard, he snagged two mugs from the draining rack and, somehow, also managed to tow his protesting partner out to the swing seat on their back porch. He poured a generous measure into one mug: �There ya are, darlin�. Get that down ya then tell me all. Ah�m only havin� enough ta wet ma lips so ya don� need ta worry �bout the boys. C�mon Malcolm, it�ll help ya relax.�

Looking less than convinced, Malcolm raised the drink, marvelling at how unsteady his hands were, after only a short conversation with his sister, and took a sizeable gulp, grimacing as it burned his throat. Subsequent mouthfuls went down a lot more easily and when Trip topped up his mug he barely objected. Settling back on the comfortably padded seat, he leaned against his husband and felt Trip�s arm go around his shoulder, hugging him closer. He sighed; �Thanks love, I don�t know what I�d do without you. When I heard Madeline�s voice on the comm, it was like a nightmare come true and I just went to pieces. She and Father always got on really well � he calls her his �golden girl� � and she thinks and sounds just like him. Why can�t I stand up to them Trip? I�m not a child anymore; I�ve seen and done a lot -- even killed people and nearly been killed myself � but I suddenly felt like a terrified ten year old again.�

Swinging the seat a little, Trip sipped thoughtfully at his drink. �Dunno Malcolm. Guess its an ingrained response for ya. But ya have ta tell yerself that things are way different now and believe in what ya are, not what ya were then.�

It took another refill of Bourbon before Malcolm was calm enough to tell him what Madeline had said: �She was annoyed with me � said I always did run away from my responsibilities and so she hoped I didn�t neglect the children. Apparently, I was meant to keep in touch with Mother and Father even though they never took my calls or answered my letters.�

He looked away for a moment, biting his lip, and Trip heard him sniff quietly before continuing: �She said Mother had been perfectly all right, running around after Father as usual, but then she took a massive coronary in the early hours of one morning. He found her on the bathroom floor � after she�d been dead for most of the night. The odd thing is, I don�t feel anything for her. I don�t think I ever really felt anything for her but anger -- because she let him do what he liked to me. All I remember her saying was �Your father knows best, dear.��

�Father�s not been well himself for about a year now. Madeline didn�t seem too clear about what�s wrong with him � said he had �funny turns� � but she took him to live with her and they sold the house in Malaysia. Mother�s funeral was held within a week of her death but there�s a Memorial Service on Monday, as it was the first available date when Madeline could get all the family and friends together. She ships out the following day and says Father can�t be left alone. Of course, being Father, he won�t go into a nursing home or have a nurse stay with him: he says he�s fine.�

Despite himself, Trip snorted: �Now where�d ah hear that before?�

Scowling, Malcolm continued: �So Madeline just told him he was coming here; end of story. Then she told me.�

Trip�s smile faded at his husband�s crestfallen expression �How long will he be stayin�?�

Malcolm tossed back the remainder of his drink then snuggled into Trip�s embrace �Forever, probably. She�ll be away a lot more, now she has a ship of her own, and nobody else can take him in � they�re all too old themselves. That leaves us.�

Trip nodded, wishing he�d had a little more Bourbon himself. �Okay. We can do this. Ah can install a vid monitor and comm-unit in the guest room. Its downstairs, near the kitchen and garden, and it has its own bathroom and a door that locks. Easy! An� ah�ll put a bolt on the outside of the door too, so you can lock �im in there if he�s buggin� ya.�

Malcolm laughed, �Oh Trip, I wish I could.�

His husband squeezed his hand �Ah�m serious, Malcolm. He ain�t screwin� ya up anymore.�

Aghast, Malcolm shook his head �Don�t be ridiculous. I can�t lock my own father in the guest room.�

Trip was unrepentant: �Oh yes ya can. How many times did he lock ya in a cold, dark basement overnight when ya were just a little bitty kid an� scared outta yer mind? Our guestroom�s a palace in comparison. He can play by the rules when he�s here Malcolm. If he don�t like it, Phlox�ll fix him up with a nursin� home someplace � Mars maybe.�

A little way down the garden, Jon-Henry began to wail and Malcolm jumped: �Oh God, I should have had them bathed and in bed by now!� He stood up and immediately staggered and sat down again, rubbing his eyes �Oops! Dizzy. Must be out of practice with Bourbon.�

Standing in front of his husband, Trip leaned down and planted a kiss on the top of his head �Sit tight darlin�. Ah�ll get �em. Don� wanna be fishin� all three of ya outta the bath.�

Missing the warmth at his side, Malcolm watched them go into the house then reached for the bottle of Bourbon.

When Trip returned some time later, the bottle was almost empty and his husband lay curled on the swing seat, dozing peacefully. Grinning, he knelt beside him, enjoying the view.

In sleep, Malcolm�s habitual rigidity was absent; his muscles relaxed, limbs loose and pliable. The corners of his mouth turned up slightly, like he was smiling at something in his dreams, and his long, elegant fingers were tangled in his hair as if he�d fallen asleep playing with it. Trip chuckled, reflecting that he probably had. It was a constant source of amusement to him that, when Malcolm was drowsy, he�d begin to twirl his hair around his index finger. As they�d grown older, it became apparent that both Charlie and Jon-Henry had the same habit and, sometimes, Trip would come home from work to find all three of them piled on the couch together, sleepily twirling their hair! He smiled at the memory and found he couldn�t resist stroking the silky locks as they spilled onto his partner�s forehead.

Long, dark lashes fluttered at his touch and, soon, unfocused grey eyes blinked up at him: �Hey, darlin�.� Trip laughed: even half-asleep and pretty well plastered, Malcolm could still mimic his husband�s drawl with disturbing accuracy.

Malcolm stretched languidly, but with his usual feline grace, and Trip was aware of a familiar stirring in his groin �Pretty relaxed, ain�t ya, darlin� ?�

He was rewarded with a beaming smile and another sinuous stretch �As a newt, love. Boys OK?�

Letting his eyes rove over the slim body before him, Trip only managed a distracted �Mmm�, which was taken as an affirmative, then found himself engulfed in a hug. A warm tongue teased his earlobe and he let his hands wander down Malcolm�s spine to rest on his compact behind. �Guess yer old man ain�t botherin� ya quite so much right now.�

He felt the twitch of a mile against his face then Malcolm pulled back and made a face: �Fuck �im!� For a moment, he was contemplative then his smile resurfaced and he scrambled to his feet, struggling for balance. �Better still, Fuck ME!�

Giggling helplessly at his own bad joke, he began to wrestle himself out of his tee shirt, tossing it on the ground with uncharacteristic carelessness. Next, he unbuckled his belt and, winking at his husband, wriggled out of his pants and briefs in one movement, letting them stay where they fell. Trip gaped as, staggering a little, he managed to take off his shoes and socks, tossing them over his shoulder and ignoring the splash as they landed in the water butt just outside the porch.

It was the funniest, yet most sensual, striptease that Tucker had ever seen and it had him wishing his husband got rat-arsed more often.

Still giggling, Malcolm turned his attention to his lover�s uniform, frowning a little as he tried to decide which of the two jumpsuit zippers he was seeing was the real one.

�Malcolm, what the hell d�ya think yer doin�? George an� Amy next door have friends visitin� for a barbecue. If they look over here they�ll see us!�

�Wossit look like I�m doin�, pillock?� He reached up and kissed Trip rather messily, missing his lips the first time, and ground his hips against him. ��S ages since we made love on the lawn.�

Grabbing the hands that were, once more, trying to get him undressed, Trip tried to reason with him. �Darlin�, there weren�t nobody livin� next door at that time. Anyhow, you�re the one who feels all shy an� self-conscious hangin� out the damn laundry, in case they try ta strike up a conversation with ya!�

Sticking his tongue out, Malcolm finished off the dregs of the Bourbon then tottered onto the lawn and collapsed in a giggling heap, wiggling his backside at his exasperated husband. �C�mon Trip. Don�t be a spoilsport.�

Malcolm�s little display had Trip aching for release � but being the main entertainment for next-door�s barbecue sure as hell wasn�t on his agenda. Their half-prepared dinner forgotten, and his uniform flapping around his waist, he scurried over to his lover, hauled him to his feet then hoisted him over his shoulder. Pausing only to slap his rump and tell him to stop struggling, he hurried into the house, going straight to the guest room. �Much as ah love ya an� want ya right now, Malcolm, ah ain�t performin� fer an audience. Anyways, ah got a better idea: let�s christen yer daddy�s new quarters.�

Being upside down had left Malcolm dizzy and a bit dazed, so Trip tossed him onto the bed, pecked him on the cheek then ducked into the bathroom, returning moments later with a towel and a bottle of liquid soap. �Okay darlin�, here comes the cavalry.�

Within moments, Malcolm was yelling in ecstasy and hanging onto the bed�s headboard for dear life! Trip had never seen him quite so uninhibited and it excited him beyond his wildest imaginings, spurring him on as his husband writhed and bucked beneath him. When it was all over, he collapsed on top of Malcolm, bathed in sweat, his heart pounding. �Wow, darlin�! That was somethin� else Are ya happy now?�

Malcolm�s only reply was a soft snore.

-/-

In his career as an Armoury Officer, Malcolm Reed had been injured many times and came close to death on a number of occasions. Never before, though, did he recall having such a blinding headache.

Cautiously, he opened his eyes and found himself staring at a rather unfocused version of Trip Tucker�s smiling face. �Ooh! What the hell�s so funny? My bloody head�s killing me!�

Trip forced a sympathetic expression for his benefit �Ah know, darlin. Here: take these. Doctor Phlox�s patent hangover cure never fails.�

Somehow managing to sit up, Malcolm dutifully swallowed the pills, along with a gulp from the offered glass of water, and was immediately sick into the waste bin Trip had brought with him from the bathroom.

�Easy Malcolm. Ah kinda thought that might happen, so a brought ya another dose.�

Unfortunately, the second dose went the way of the first and Malcolm elected to struggle on un-medicated.

When he finally got himself onto his feet and moving, Charlie and Jon-Henry were both dressed � albeit in un-ironed clothes from the �Clean Laundry� basket � and playing under the kitchen table. Remnants of their breakfast clung to their faces and were scattered around them on the floor. In the midst of it all, Trip sat serenely, eating toast and looking supremely pleased with himself. �Got �em all ready fer ya Darlin�. Want some coffee?�

Nodding, then regretting it as his head pounded even harder, Malcolm slumped at the table while he was presented with a steaming black mugful. �Ah gotta get ta work, but just leave the chores and ah�ll see ta them later. You concentrate on yerself and the boys. Love ya.� Kissing all three of them and brushing toast crumbs from the front of his uniform, he dashed off for his shift. Malcolm, meanwhile, threw up, all over the kitchen table, the two mouthfuls of coffee he�d managed to swallow.

It was going to be a long day.

-/-

That evening, Trip returned to find his dinner in the oven, the housework done and the place reeking of disinfectant. Just as he was preparing to berate him for working so hard, his eyes fell on Malcolm, Charlie and Jon-Henry in a slumbering heap on the couch. The boys� dirty dishes were still on the table, which, he noticed, with a knowing smile, was missing its cloth. Grinning at the peaceful tableaux before him, he took a hasty meal then gently extracted the children from their father�s grasp and headed for the bathroom.

An hour later, while Trip was still reading the boys their bedtime story, Malcolm appeared, ghostly pale, at their bedroom door � watching as, immaculately clean and smelling of shampoo and talc, they lay peacefully drowsing to their Poppa�s southern drawl. Although bending over made his head spin, Malcolm gave each a goodnight kiss then, waiting for them to fall asleep, sat at the foot of Charlie�s bed, the rocking chair certainly not being advisable for him tonight.

Satisfied that the story had done its job, Trip turned his attention to his husband: �How�re ya feelin�, darlin�?�

Managing a wan smile, Malcolm took his offered arm and wobbled to his feet: �Like a very bad father. Guess it runs in the family.�

Trip squeezed his waist then led him to their own bedroom �Ah ain�t gonna dignify that remark with an argument. Now you, mah poor baby, are havin� an early night too. Get yerself into bed an� ah�ll bring ya some nice semolina. It worked a treat when ya had mornin� sickness and ah�m sure it� ll work again.�

By the following day, Malcolm was back to normal and able, once more, to fret about his father. The guest bedroom was cleaned and made ready for Stuart Reed, Trip setting up the comm-unit and vid-link, and Malcolm installing a table-top refrigerator, automatic hot water point and a hefty supply of tea, coffee and biscuits so that the Admiral wouldn�t have to put his nose outside of his own room any more than necessary.

It was all becoming horribly real.

Since their regular baby-sitters were out of town, or unable to help at such short notice, it was arranged that the whole Tucker-Reed family would attend the Memorial Service in England and collect the Admiral while they were there. Malcolm was, predictably, dreading it, fussing over the house and children until all three shone with the brightness of a Royal Navy officer�s buttons.

They were about to leave for the shuttle terminal when Malcolm disappeared and Trip found him straightening his father�s bed-to-be for the umpteenth time. �Darlin��.�

�I�m sorry love. I just had to be sure. You didn�t leave the boys alone, did you? They�re probably playing in the rose bed by now �.�

Strong arms enfolded him closely and he gave a shuddering sigh �I can�t help it. He�s always picked holes in everything I�ve ever done. I don�t want to give him any ammunition.�

Trip squeezed him then began to muss his perfectly-groomed hair �Its more important that ya don� give him any power over ya. Me an� the boys love ya jus� fer bein� yerself � so who cares if he finds fault. As someone we both know well said not so long ago, �Fuck �im!��

TBC

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