Love and Logic- Ch. 2

Love and Logic

By agentpippin

Rating: PG, Romance, Humor

Disclaimers in Chapter One

Okay, this chapter has just the mildest spoilers for Cold Front. Enjoy. Slightly more angsty here.
Disclaimer: Not mine. No money made. Just for my own amusement. Hopefully yours too.

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Chapter Two

"Damn," Trip sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "I hate those infrared goggles."

T'Pol barely spared him a glance. They sat in relative silence for a little while, the only sounds being the various soft bleeps and whirrs of the shuttlepod. T'Pol's slender fingers worked over her console at a remarkable speed, and Trip sat mesmerized. He started when the Vulcan officer spoke.

"Shuttlepod Two to Enterprise. Request permission to dock," she asked without much trace of a question in her smooth voice. Trip turned back to his own console and began the docking sequence.
"We see you, Sub-Commander. Permission granted," Ensign Mayweather's voice said over the comm. Trip grinned at the thought of T'Pol taking orders from a Starfleet ensign. He wondered briefly what she'd have done if Travis had said no.

//She probably wouldn't even have realized he'd'a been jokin',// Trip chuckled to himself. It was one of her more endearing traits; sometimes he couldn't resist throwing a human idiom or a joke at her, just to see the look on her face.

His subconscious had taken his fingers over the console and through the docking procedure without Trip being aware of it. He started and chastised himself for drifting off. Daydreams could cause some serious problems aboard a starship.

The muted "thud" of the docking clamp shuddered throughout the shuttlepod. Trip waited until the distant clang of the bay doors and hiss of repressurization made themselves known, then got up and unsealed the hatch. He stood back to let T'Pol exit first, and she did so with a slight inclination of her head.

They walked together through the corridors, now fairly bustling with officers. The information the shuttlepod's sensors had gathered on this "backwards planet" was enough to keep the ship busy for days, and the crew was going at the data with admirable enthusiasm.

Trip's feet kept themselves guided towards Engineering, now knowing the path by heart, head and soul. He had once joked, seeing the parts being assembled in spacedock, that it was so big, "it shoulda been named the Time Traveler - the bridge has a diff'rent time zone than the shuttlebay does". Now it seemed like the cosiest place on earth to him.

The doors to Engineering hissed open and Trip and T'Pol were greeted by the mechanical bustle of the warp core and its attendants. The steady thrum of the matter/antimatter reaction calmed Trip's frayed nerves, the spooky episode on the planet almost forgotten. He climbed up the ladder to the main console and briefly checked a couple systems. "Nothin' to worry 'bout here, Sub-Commander, s'all in order." He leaned forward to look down at the Vulcan standing patiently below him. "Now how 'bout that movie, huh?"

T'Pol raised her chin. "The movie does not start for another two hours and fourteen minutes, Mister Tucker."

"That long?" Trip said, surprised. "Helluva thing, I'm losin' track of time. Well, if there ain't nothin' more to do here, I'm gonna head back to my quarters an' relax a bit." He hopped back down and grabbed hold of a passing officer. "S'yer turn to be on duty, Johnson, I'm goin' to my quarters. Anythin' happens here, ya give me a shout. Got that?" The lieutenant nodded, smiling, and climbed up to Trip's previous post.

Trip grinned. "Young kid, got a heart o' gold, that one. Tried his damndest to keep the reactor together when that cascade started, the one with the pilgrims on board." T'Pol nodded and listened to Trip's chatter all the way back to his quarters. The human capacity for distraction was quite remarkable, T'Pol decided. Although Trip's "shop talk" had the ability to irritate her at times, she found it quite soothing when she herself became distracted.

"Well, I guess yer 'bout ready to kick me out an airlock fer takin' up so much o' yer time, Sub-Commander," Trip's voice unintentionally echoed her thoughts. They had reached his quarters. Trip was keying in his authorization code.

"You know I would not attempt such antics, Commander," T'Pol said, raising an eyebrow. The door slid open and Trip grinned impishly.

"I never can tell with you Vulcans," he retorted over his shoulder as he stepped over the threshold.

T'Pol waited for him to close the door. Trip, however, seemed to have other ideas. "Well, what're ya waitin' for? Come on in," Trip encouraged, "unless ya got somethin' else to do."

T'Pol inclined her head and stepped inside. "Thank you, Commander."

Trip was hastily rearranging PADDs, books, and clothes. He glanced up from straightening a pile of books. "We're off duty, darlin', you can call me Trip."

"Indeed," T'Pol returned composedly. She glanced around the room. The human smell was usually the first thing she noticed upon entering one of their personal quarters, which was not often. In the engineer's room, however, his smell was almost part of the background, something between thyme and lemon. There were personal effects everywhere, from hand-written letters on paper, to photographs of various people, to small trophies. T'Pol was beginning to get used to the disorganised environment most humans preferred, and stepped neatly over a pair of black pants to sit tentatively on the edge of a chair by the desk. Trip emerged from the bathroom carrying a load of laundry and kicked it into the closet. T'Pol raised an amused eyebrow as he went back for another load.

"You can put that eyebrow down, s'not usually like this," Trip called from the bathroom. "Got a lotta work to catch up on, an' personal chores were never a big thing for me." He came out from the bathroom again and stuffed the last pile in the now overflowing closet. He flopped down on the bed with a loud sigh. "I'm gonna sleep tonight," he mumbled. He rolled over onto his stomach and regarded T'Pol. "Don't suppose ya got loads o' laundry to do every day, do ya?"

T'Pol did not bother answering. The question was obviously rhetorical.

"So, T'Pol..." Trip began carefully. "I hate to bring this up, but, you remember the... the transmission ya got from yer fiancé? The one about yer marriage?"

T'Pol hesitated. How could she talk to him about this now?

Trip sensed her trepidation and quickly shook his head. "Sorry, s'none o' my business. Shouldn't be askin'."

"It's all right, Commander... Trip," she corrected herself. "The... situation with my family and my fiancée had just not crossed my mind for awhile." Trip propped himself up on his elbows, curious. "So what's the scoop?" he asked.

T'Pol stopped. "What's the situation?" Trip amended. He grinned inwardly.

T'Pol began again. "My family has agreed that since I was not willing to return to Vulcan to marry, I may now make my own personal choice on if and when I will marry."

Trip's voice was soft. "And who?"

"And who."

They were silent for a while. Trip watched T'Pol's face, expressionless as ever. Although as his eyes met hers, she seemed to be struggling with a strong feeling. He was shocked to see her deep brown eyes filled with - something. Remorse, maybe. Guilt. Fear.

//Don't be stupid,// Trip told himself. //Vulcans ain't afraid.//

She stood up abruptly and, for one split second, Trip thought she had interpreted his silence as an invitation to leave. It took another moment for him to realize that the comm had gone off, and T'Pol was answering it.

"Trip?" Archer's voice.

"This is Sub-Commander T'Pol, Captain," T'Pol said into the comm.

"T'Pol? What are you... never mind. I don't want to know. I just wanted to ask you and the commander if you wanted to come to my quarters for dinner tonight." The captain's voice was hesitant. "He is there, isn't he?"

"I'm here, Cap'n," Trip called from his bed. "I'm sure up for dinner - how 'bout you, T'Pol?" The Vulcan nodded once and turned back to the comm. "It appears we will both be attending, Captain."

"Okay. See you two at 1800 hours. Hang on, that's right about now, isn't it? In that case, come right on over," Archer told them.

"Thank you, Captain. T'Pol out." T'Pol turned to Trip, who stretched and got to his feet. "Prime rib, here I come," he exclaimed eagerly. "You sure are missin' out on a coupla life's great pleasures with yer vegetarian Vulcanism," he told
T'Pol. She raised her eyebrows. "Vulcans do not consume the flesh of animals," she told him calmly.

"I'll take yer word fer that, cause I sure as hell ain't a Vulcan, and I'm hungry," he announced. T'Pol inclined her head.

Trip swept an arm towards the door. "Ladies first."

T'Pol started forward, then turned to Trip. "Thank you."

Trip was genuinely surprised. "My pleasure, darlin'," he told her, "anytime."

She looked at him for a moment longer, and allowed herself a faint smile. "Do you enjoy the Terran Chinese food?"

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So, dinner and a show! What will the galaxy's favorite pair get up to now? Well... MY favorite pair, anyways.

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Continued in Chapter 3

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