Reed's Armory -- A Malcolm Reed Fanfiction Archive ..

Title: Just One More Time

Author: Weebob

Author's e-mail: [email protected]

Fandom: Enterprise

Pairing: Tucker/Reed

Rating: R

Category: Slash

Summary: Friendship turns to love.

Spoilers: Terra Nova, Shuttlepod One, Shockwave 2, Minefield, Unexpected

Comments: Forgive me if you've seen this before--I'm brand new to writing and I'm posting just about everywhere in the hope of feedback!

Archived to Reed's Armory on 10/16/2003.

PART 1

"Just one more. Great! That's it: just one more, we're nearly there. Go for it! Just one more..."

"Respectfully, Commander, would you please stop that! I'm trying to concentrate and you're making me nervous."

Malcolm Reed was frustrated enough at not being able to master the required rhythm for walking on crutches--he didn't need the grinning engineer walking ahead, facing him, hands outstretched in case he fell forward, egging him on faster than he could go! Distracted, he misjudged his next move, got his feet all tangled up in the crutches and flopped forward into Tucker's arms. "Bollocks!"

Commander Charles Tucker the Third guffawed loudly as he set his disgruntled companion upright again "Easy, Lieutenant. That'll teach ya t' go gittin' shot in the leg by some subterranean mud man then piss Phlox off so much that he kicks ya outa Sickbay! We're almost at yer quarters. Only a few more steps. Keep goin'. Jus' one more ..."

-/-

"Jus' one more, Malcolm," The inebriated engineer waved the rapidly emptying bourbon bottle at his companion and leered "It'll take yer mind off T'pol's ass." He tossed back another mouthful himself then handed the bottle to Malcolm, who was giggling helplessly. "Gee, Lieutenant, ya sure are cute when yer drunk."

Alcohol didn't really agree with Reed but he drank it anyway- usually to fit in, as much as anything. Today, he was drinking it to drown his sorrows, of which he had plenty. He and Trip were stranded in a freezing, almost airless, shuttlepod with little hope of rescue. They'd jettisoned and detonated their impulse drive in the hope of using it as a distress flare--but time was passing and they were still alone.

Some time later, out of bourbon and almost out of hope, Trip had tried to seal himself in the airlock to conserve air and buy Malcolm more time. In his desperation to stop Tucker's suicide attempt, Malcolm had lost his temper and threatened him with a phase pistol. They'd sat in sullen silence for a while after that before deciding to put aside their differences and huddle together under their blankets to share warmth.

To Malcolm's surprise, Trip had kissed him: right on the lips: no cheap imitations. To Malcolm's amazement, he'd kissed him back with equal fervour. They'd cuddled and talked quietly for a little while about the mutual attraction they'd never before acknowledged. Then Malcolm had begun to fade. Trip had shaken him back to consciousness several times, until he too was losing the fight against cold and suffocation. Before he'd lost awareness, Malcolm had heard Trip's voice, slurred with cold and alcohol and very close to his ear: "Malcolm, I'd really like another kiss. Jus' one more ...".

-/-

"Just one more. I know it hurts, but ya gotta keep yer strength up. C'mon Malcolm, fer me? Just one more mouthful."

Malcolm groaned as the spoon was eased between his swollen lips and tilted so the custard ran into his mouth. He'd been badly beaten by the Suliban during his interrogation and now he was propped up in his bunk, looking and feeling like a punchbag, with the doctor's orders to rest and let his treatment work still ringing in his ears.

Once the ship had been re-taken, a distraught Trip had come looking and found him, barely conscious, on the floor of his cabin. The engineer had been with him ever since. Of course the man was a bloody nuisance, trying to jolly him along and pouring easily digestible nursery puddings down his throat at every opportunity.

Trip seemed to have temporarily turned into his own mother, but he was a good man and appeared to care deeply about Malcolm, even sitting with him through the night, reassuring him when pain or bad dreams wakened him. Malcolm couldn't bear to imagine how he'd have got through this ordeal without him. Come to think of it, he couldn't even imagine getting through his daily life without Trip...

The re-loaded spoon approached again "Open up, Malcolm! Just one more ..."

-/-

"Just one more, Malcolm ..." Memories of another occasion flooded his mind as he limped towards his quarters to the dulcet tones of Trip Tucker's encouragements. This time, however, he had been discharged to his quarters after being speared through the thigh by an anchoring spike from a Romulan mine stuck to the Enterprise hull. And, this time, there were no crutches; just Tucker's strong right arm wrapped firmly around Malcolm's waist while his left hand was caught in the Armoury Officer's vice-like grip.

Although he'd had surgery, an overnight stay in Sickbay and every drug imaginable pumped into him, it still hurt like hell and he could hear himself whimper as, with each step, the pain got a little too much to bear. Trip had offered to carry him but it was such a damned embarrassing thought that he was determined never to let it happen!

Tucker stopped when Malcolm cried out, and leaned over to wipe away trickles of perspiration that were making their way into the injured man's eyes. "Hey, Ah know, its bad. But its yer own fault. Although ah wanna, ah'm not gonna carry you, 'cause you'd get real cranky 'n sulk for days."

The engineer paused suddenly, drawing in a sharp breath, and Malcolm saw that his blue eyes were moist with tears "Ah thought ah'd lost ya, this time but yer still here and still a pain in the ass. Ah almost missed mah chance to say this, so ah'm say'n it now. Ah love ya' Malcolm." Before Malcolm could respond, Tucker sniffed loudly and composed himself. "Now, git movin', there're only a few steps to go. That's it Malcolm. Just one more ..."

-/-

"Just one more, Malcolm. Breathe deep, that's it. I know ya haven't done this before, tha's why ah'm makin' real sure ah don' hurt ya." Trip leaned forward to kiss the anxious man below him. "Jus' relax. Won't hurt ya."

Malcolm was trembling. This was so far out of his existing frame of reference that he couldn't quite believe it was happening. Tucker had been cautiously courting him ever since their experience in the shuttlepod: wearing him down and breaching Malcolm's self-erected barriers with his southern sweetness.

They'd kissed, cuddled and petted, even shared a bunk for over a month now, but it had always stopped short of this. Now Malcolm wanted it though: wanted to give Trip--his beloved--everything that he was. No more holding back. He was celebrating being head over heels in love with a man who felt exactly the same way about him--but his courage was waning. He had to speed things up.

"Now Trip. I'm ready." He sounded nervous and could feel himself starting to tense, so he tried again, hopefully sounding more casual: "Get a move on Yank, I .. OH!"

There were a few moments of searing pain then a glorious feeling of fullness. He heard himself groan then felt Trip gather him close. "S'okay Malcolm. It's all up to you. We can stop here or go right on t' the finish line." Malcolm hesitated, panting a little, then shifted slightly and tightened his legs around Trip's waist "Keep going. I can do this."

With every languorous move he made, Trip kissed his partner, whispered endearments and encouraged Malcolm until he felt overwhelmed by his love. All those wasted years when he thought he was perfectly straight but just pretty damned dysfunctional!

The pace was picking up a little now and Trip was breathing harder. Malcolm moaned loudly and saw his lover smile. It made him feel wonderful and it certainly looked like he wasn't the only one enjoying himself. Muscles he didn't know he had were beginning to twitch and spasm and he writhed in delight, screaming as the feelings reached a crescendo, whilst Trip continued his frenzied movements a little longer before he too crossed the finish line.

They made love again and again that night and each time, after a decent interlude for rest, Trip would turn to his lover: "God, Malcolm, I need you so much. Just one more ..."

-/-

"Just one more, Malcolm... that's it! He'll be here any minute. They're flying him down right now. Hold my hand when the pain comes. That's it, just one more ..."

"Aaaarrgghh! Trip! Oooh God! Whose bloody bright idea was it for me to have a baby? We should have taken another tour of duty on Enterprise instead."

The engineer rolled his eyes at his dishevelled, sweating partner, red-faced and irritable as hell in a mint-green examination gown. "All yours, darlin'. Ya knew Phlox said ah couldn' do it 'cause ah still have some of that weird Xyrillian shit floatin' around in me but ya wanted t'go ahead anyhow. Ya even threatened to divorce me if ah didn' give in."

Another agonising spasm seized Malcolm and he grabbed at Trip's hand, digging his nails into the palm as he squeezed. Tucker said nothing, but his eyes were beginning to water. Malcolm screamed: "Bastard! 'Just one more', you said and now its happening again." Panting, he buried his face in Trip's shoulder and tried to smother the sounds he was making as the wave of pain rose, crested and fell.

Abruptly, the door opened and Phlox bustled into the room. The Denobulan grinned widely "Good afternoon gentlemen. How are we?"

For once, Malcolm didn't bother trying to convince anyone he was fine: "GET HIM OUT OF ME. NOW!" Phlox serenely approached his increasingly agitated patient scanned him, then gently prodded Malcolm's swollen abdomen. "Well done, Mr Reed, you've nurtured a fine, healthy baby and he's just itching to come out. Before I go and scrub up, I'm going to inject something into your spine to deaden the pain and then give you a slight sedative to relax you. Don't worry, you'll be wide awake when the little fellow arrives. Over on your side please ... good." Within seconds, Malcolm felt much better. From the chest down, his body seemed to be fading out and taking the awful agony with it.

The embryo implanting procedure Phlox had developed from his research during his time with the Inter-Species Medical Exchange was still new and risky, but was the only way Trip and Malcolm could have a child utilising their own genetic material. The doctor had warned him that he'd be unable to carry the child to its normal term--but Malcolm had been determined to keep going as long as possible, to make sure it had every chance to grow and develop before birth. In the end, he'd let himself get quite ill, as his slight frame tried to support their quickly-growing son, and a worried Trip had summoned Phlox from a conference he was attending on Jupiter Station.

The birth itself went more smoothly than expected. Trip sat holding his hand, stroking Malcolm's sweat-dampened hair and making sure he couldn't see the rather gory procedure Phlox was carrying out further down his body. "Is he here yet Trip? I don't hear him crying? Nothing's wrong, is it?"

It was Phlox who answered Malcolm's anxious question "Everything's fine, Mr Reed. Nurse is just checking him over and clearing his airways while I, umm, tie up a few loose ends, as it were." Right on cue, a piercing wail issued from the other end of the delivery room. Phlox smiled: "Ah! There he goes now!"

Malcolm had begun to cry along with the baby: Trip waited until the red, wrinkled, noisy little bundle was placed in Malcolm's arms. Suddenly, the months of sickness, discomfort, mood swings, hormone injections and continual exhaustion fell into perspective for Malcolm. The numbness was wearing off and he felt like he'd been kicked in the gut by a horse but he couldn't have been happier than he was watching Trip's face as he admired their new son.

A short time later, worn out and still cradling the now well-fed and silent infant, he let his head fall back on the pillow, vaguely aware of his husband's concerned frown. He sighed and nuzzled the downy little head tucked against his shoulder. "I'm OK Trip. I was just thinking that, now Charlie's here and we know we can do this, I'd really like us to have another baby soon, you know, as company for him."

Trip's mouth fell open "Malcolm! Yer kiddin'! There ain't an ounce of flesh left on ya and yer whole body was startin' to give out under the strain. This little guy just about killed ya. No way, darlin'. He's stayin' an only child."

Malcolm smiled and closed his eyes. He knew he'd get round Tucker: he always did. "You're saying that now, Trip. But once he gets a little older and I'm back on my feet you'll see the sense in my argument. I'm not asking for much ..." He yawned hugely and snuggled down further into his pillow as Trip gently took their son in his arms to let Malcolm rest, "... just one more, Trip. Just one more."

~the end~