Title: Whereabouts Known
Author: Pretzelduck
Author's e-mail: [email protected]
Author's URL: http://www.geocities.com/pretzelduck
Date: Posted to EntSTSlash 05/03/2003
Archive: Permission to archive granted to EntSTCommunity, Tim Ruben, and WWOMB
Fandom: Star Trek:
Category: Slash
Rating: PG-13
Status: Complete
Pairing: Archer/Reed
Main character(s): Archer, Reed
Summary: Malcolm's prized phase pistol goes missing but the discussion about it goes slightly awry.
Warnings: n/a
Series: n/a
Sequel to: n/a
Spoilers: n/a
Disclaimer: Guess what?
I don't own the Star Trek franchise.
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"All right... where's my phase pistol?"
I can hear him rummaging around behind me. There's nothing in this universe that could coerce me into looking at Malcolm right now. I'm just going to sit here on the edge of the bed and play dumb.
"Jon?! My bloody phase pistol is missing! What if..."
He's gone into Paranoid Malcolm mode. I usually tune him out at about this point. Taking his security concerns seriously is one thing. Listening to him spin theories about the disappearance of the phase pistol he built from spare parts and put in the bedside drawer, next to the lube of all things, is an entirely different point.
Anyway, I know what happened to the phase pistol. I just feel like keeping my head attached to my neck for the moment.
Out of nowhere, Malcolm magically appears in front of me. The look on his face is coldly serious. Like this is a matter of life or death. Rather than just the location of his precious weapon.
"Where. Is. My. Phase. Pistol?" Each word is coolly clipped. It reminds of the first time I met Malcolm when I was putting together Enterprise's senior staff. I cautiously look into his eyes. Steely gray. The color of emotionless Malcolm. Now he's definitely reminding me of our first meeting. The same urge to yank his head towards mine and kiss him until some sort of emotion flickers in those eyes manifests itself. Just like at our first meeting. And our second. And our thirty-fifth.
"I accidentally left the drawer open this morning."
Malcolm just stares icily directly into my eyes and waits for me to elaborate. I know that his training included interrogation techniques but isn't using "Icy Glare 101" cheating...
"I forgot that Porthos was on the bed."
I didn't know that a person's lips could become that tight. I wonder what Malcolm would do if I told him that the veins on his forehead were starting to bulge out.
"Are you saying that your dog used one of *my* weapons as a chew toy? And why on earth did you have the drawer open at all? The only other thing that's in there is the...er...the..."
Thank goodness for Malcolm's propriety and lingering shyness regarding words like 'lube' and 'sex'. It allows me to get a word in edgewise.
"Porthos didn't use the phase pistol as a chew toy. And besides, you're the reason I had to get into the drawer in the first place." Malcolm's anger seems to have stalled for the moment. All he's doing right now is blinking a few times.
"Me? What are you talking about, Jon?"
"I was replacing the bottle of lube that you insisted we finish up last night. Remember?"
Ahhh... there's some emotion in those eyes now. Memories are wonderful things. So are the benefits to dating a tactical officer. Especially one of the caliber of my Malcolm. And they don't necessarily include the caliber that's he's packing, either. Those benefits do include things like amazing stamina and flexibility. I honestly didn't think that the human body could bend in some of the ways Malcolm bends his. And as for the stamina...that's what used up the lube. Too bad I don't have a single solitary complaint.
Apparently, neither does he. I know this because I suddenly have an armful of Malcolm Reed. Or I guess I should say a lapful because he's practically on top of me. He's resting his own legs on the bed to support his weight, though. Malcolm might be a lean, mean ass-kicking machine who has a tendency to forget the importance of a meal but he does weigh something.
One of his hands reaches up and starts brushing along my temple and through my hair. A soft smile is playing on his lips but there's doubt in his eyes. It looks like he wants to say something to me but can't quite bring himself to do it. Four months into our relationship and there are still times that it seems like Malcolm is scared I'm going to reject him for something he does or says. They've become fewer and fewer with each 'I love you,' though. And I'm happy to oblige. I'd take an uncertain Malcolm any day. Because four months ago, I was dreaming about him instead of being with him. It makes all the difference in the world.
"You'd tell me if it was too much... wouldn't you, love? If you didn't want to..."
My only reply to this is to pull him in for a kiss. I love the way he melts against me, like the only thing keeping him alive is my touch. Our mouths moving against each other and we're grinding together with more and more passion and I find myself struck by one of my mind's favorite reoccurring thoughts. Damn, I got lucky. I got Malcolm.
We pull away from each other because we unfortunately need this thing called oxygen. There is no match for a panting and flushed Malcolm. None at all.
"Yes I would, Malcolm. And I'd expect you to do the same." One of the things I've picked up from Malcolm is the sly smirk. I think I do a pretty good imitation of his by now. "Although, I don't see it happening any time in the near future."
Nope. Not happening. It's hard for me to believe that I'm the only one privileged enough to see the passion that exists in Enterprise's resident sexy Englishman. It goes along with the strange impulse I have to turn and point at Malcolm while we're on the bridge and tell everyone that I know what he looks like naked and horny.
Maybe I will someday. After I've timed the trip from my chair to the lift and how long it takes for the door to open. And after I've written up my will.
"Earth to Jon."
Ummm... when did Malcolm's mouth get next to my ear? And how did he get my T-shirt off without me noticing?
And why exactly do I care?
"I hope that this isn't the near future."
Time for my favorite way to respond to Malcolm. As we kiss, I do my best to unzip his uniform. Sometimes I wish he wouldn't always wear it when he's off-duty. It makes getting him naked take all that much longer.
"Not for me."
I don't think it is for Malcolm, either. Or at least, I gather as much from the fact that he pushes me down on the bed so I'm lying flat on my back. Or I could be taking my signal from the way Malcolm is nipping at my earlobe.
"Jon..."
He's moving down along my neck with that multi-talented mouth of his and he expects me to carry on a conversation? Must be some crazy British thing...
"Yeah..."
"What happened to the phase pistol?"
It's my turn to whisper in his ear. "Later... okay?"
So maybe I combined my words with some talented work with my hands but I don't think he has a problem with my idea. He's standing up and removing that damn uniform with a sultry look in his eyes.
I'm just going to sit back and enjoy the view. Like I'm going to interrupt the transformation of Lieutenant Reed into Naked and Horny Malcolm by telling him about Porthos' love affair with his handmade phase pistol. Or about the cleanup job I'm putting off.
Oh.... there goes the uniform. And the underwear. Yep, I definitely got lucky.
-fin-