Title: Come Inside
Author: Pretzelduck
Author's e-mail: [email protected]
Author's URL: http://www.geocities.com/pretzelduck
Date: Posted to EntSTSlash
Archive: Permission to archive granted to EntSTCommunity and WWOMB
Fandom: Star Trek:
Category: Slash
Rating: PG
Status: Complete
Pairing: Archer/Reed
Main character(s): Archer, Reed
Summary: "Oh with what passion my heart is burning, I
fear you will never know."
Warnings: none
Series: n/a
Sequel to: n/a
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: Guess what?
I don't own the Star Trek franchise.
Author's Notes: Many thanks go out to my astronomy professor for confusing me so much with his lecture on Einstein's Theory of Special Relativity that I gave up on paying attention and wrote instead.
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I wonder if anyone sees me. More exactly, I wonder if he's seen me. It's doubtful but he's so observant and vigilant. I'm not surprised that he's sitting at a table in the corner, his back to the wall. It's some time past dusk; the lighting inside is sparse. I don't think he's seen me.
Some starship captain I am. I'm standing outside a restaurant on an alien world watching my armory officer through the window. We're on shore leave; I should be out relaxing or enjoying myself. Trip asked me several times to come out drinking with him. I think Travis went with him. But he just looks so lonely. Lonely and lost. He keeps glancing around. Whether it's a habit or if he's waiting for someone, I don't know. I hope it's the former, though.
The temperature's dropped quite a bit in past few minutes. I should leave, head back to my hotel. But I can't make my feet move. I have as much control over them as I do over my eyes. They're riveted on Malcolm, watching every move he makes. With a napkin, he carefully wipes a few crumbs from his lower lip. Lucky napkin.
I can't believe I'm actually jealous of a piece of cloth.
This all started innocently enough. I wanted to make him relax. He was so tense that I was worried he'd snap. It started out as professional concern. But it just got worse from there. Then, I wanted to make him smile and laugh. I fought to get a sentence out of him about a frivolous topic. It became overtures of friendship.
And now, I'm staring at him through a pane of glass. Now I'm wishing it was me he was waiting for. Not for a working dinner but for a dinner date. My professional concern and overtures of friendship evolved into desire. Physical attraction to him was there from the beginning. At least, I think it was. It seems I've felt like this forever. That I've wanted him forever. I could have handled just plain desire. But, no...
I want him to relax because I'm with him. I want him to smile at me and laugh with me. I want to keep him from harm. I want to hold him in my arms at night.
The word love comes to mind. So does yearning and tenderness. I can't...I can't be in love with him. I just can't. I hardly know him. There are so many obstacles between us. I can't possibly be in love with him.
But here I am, anyway. I should be somewhere else. He's picking at his food. And now I'm jealous of a piece of silverware as a fork deposits a bite of some kind of fruit in his mouth. I wonder if he's worrying about his allergies. It is, after all, alien food. Now, I'm worrying about him on his shore leave. He's a grown man who can take care of himself.
I'm going to ignore the fact that I want to be the one he lets take care of him, every once in a while.
It is getting colder. I really should be going. One last glance, though. A final look that appears to be fatal. Malcolm is looking at me. I still can't look away. There's confusion in his eyes but a smile gracing his lips. A waiter crosses between us. I can feel my feet start to carry me away from the window. How long was he watching me? How long did he know I was there?
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The service in this place has been atrocious but the waiter has to choose this time...this moment to check on me. Why now? Fate, I suppose. An omen. He's been watching me for twenty-one minutes. I even know the time down to the seconds. His eyes are piercing; I can always feel them when he's watching me. The feeling isn't entirely uncomfortable but more like, it is unsettling. Not the watching, the piercing. I've never known the feeling of being laid bare before another person. But he... the captain ... Jonathan ... he...
He's gone. The bloody waiter has finally managed to get out of the way. He's gone. I can barely make out a solitary figure walking down the street. My body starts to rise from the chair before I realize what I'm doing.
I can't go after him. I have to let him walk away. So why do I have to force myself to sit back down?
I really shouldn't ask questions to which I already know the answer. It's because I feel so exposed when I'm around him. The armor...my defenses...they don't matter to him. And when he's near, I don't want them to matter to me, either. But they do. He's the captain. I'm his subordinate.
So why does it hurt so much to see him leave?
It shouldn't. It can't. But it does, anyway. I watched him out of the corner of my eyes, sneaking a full out peek when I thought I could risk it. He looked so lonely standing there. I wanted to invite him to have dinner with me but it wouldn't be appropriate. I kept waiting, though. Wondering...no, hoping that he would come inside. That laid-back smile on his face, inviting in its warmth. He would gesture at the chair before sitting down, asking permission. And I would give it because I can't deny him.
He would ask me why I was here. Alone during shore leave. I wouldn't have an answer for him. I know why but I wouldn't tell him. I wouldn't tell him that I needed to center myself. He throws me off-balance. One moment, I can barely restrain myself from saluting him to remind him...and me...that we're both officers. The next, I can barely restrain myself from showing up at his door and confessing...what?
That I'm attracted to him? I'll admit to that. He's tall and handsome, uncompromising in his ideals, and strong, physically and mentally.
That I care about him? I worry about his safety. It's my job to worry. At least, that's how it started. Professional. The safety of my captain. I wonder if it was possible for it to stay that way at all. Images of him sitting across from me, laughing at a joke I somehow managed to tell fill my mind. It wasn't possible. I care about him. Personally.
I want to be the one who comforts him when the job becomes just too much. I want to wake up with his arms around me. I want to know how he became the man he is.
And that the last thing I want is for him to walk away alone. But I do. I can't go after him. Because I care.