C'est pour nous deux, Pt 6

C’est pour nous deux, la lune qui danse

By Aquila

Part Six

Loose translation of the title: It is for we two, the moon dances.
Note on title: Two lines from Se Rêver, full lyrics can be found at www.brunopelletier.com – once there, click on discographie.
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the obsessive/compulsive behaviour.
Summary: A sequel to No More Blackened Catfish or Pecan Pie*

==

She had made use of his absence. She had turned his bunk into a sofa. On the floor under the replica of an old diving suit, she had made a bed in the Japanese style – a tatami. It was big enough for two. The food cart was waiting by the door ready to be eased into the hall. She had placed his desk chair in front of the viewing port, having left enough room for the chair he had brought from her quarters.

She straightened when she heard him enter. “I have made room for my clothes.” She gestured to the empty drawers that stood open waiting for the clothes that he had transported on the chair.

There was a chill in the air, although it looked as if she had decided to move in.

He rolled the chair into position, collected the clothes and placed them in her waiting arms. He snagged the enticing bit of nothing, dangling it from a finger. Occupied with the clothes she held she failed to notice for a moment. When she did, she tried to snatch it from him. He pulled it just out of reach.

“Commander, do I need to remind you that I am capable of maiming you for life. Please return that to me at once.”

In her agitation the robe she wore fell open. He had a clear view of her mid section from the top of her head to her toes. Tantalizing demiglobes of flesh curved into a flat abdomen which faded into a luxuriant thatch of hair. Lean thighs ran into smooth knees that topped long shins. It was like peeking through a crack in a door at the pile of Christmas presents, while he waited for permission to enter the room.

“You’re a little underdressed, T’Pol.” He passed the garment to her. “Why don’t you put this on?”

In a huff she shoved the seemingly useless piece of clothing into the drawer, snapping it shut. She pulled the robe around her, tying it closed. Then she glared at him.

“You heard from Phlox.” He grimaced. “I didn’t have a choice. Hayes would have hurt me. I didn’t want to spend time in sick bay, not when you obviously have other plans for me.”

She continued to glare.

“Honey I didn’t do any permanent damage.” Trip’s stomach dropped to the floor. “Did I?”

“The doctor said that a full recovery is expected.” She frowned. “I will not repeat what Hayes said.”

“Is he going to report me to the captain?” Trip knew he would be within his rights.

“I explained the situation to him.” T’Pol moved to the viewing port where she stood looking out. “He agreed that his aggression had been unwarranted and that your response was in self-defense.”

Trip came to stand at her side, “What explanation did you give him, exactly?”

“I told him that there could be nothing more than a respectful friendship between us.”

Trip choked, “Kicked in the balls twice. I almost feel sorry for the pompous ass.”

Surely T’Pol hadn’t turned away to cover a laugh that bubbled from her throat. No, decided Trip, Expanse or no Expanse, that would be too much to expect from her.

“What is it that you wanted me to see, T’Pol?”

Trip looked in the direction that she pointed.

“The dancing moon.”

She looked up at Trip who had slipped his arm around her, tugging her close. “The intelligence that you had Hayes and I decipher mentioned a planet with a dancing moon. You can see the planet below us.”

They leaned across the sill to catch a glimpse of the planet.

“According to the intelligence that planet is a neutral zone, where trade is conducted between belligerents.”

“The Switzerland of the Delphic Expanse?”

“You could say that,” nodded T’Pol.

“Tell me about the dancing moon.” He moved to stand behind her, his arms around her, her head resting against his chest.

“Hayes and I speculate that it has an erratic orbit that when viewed from the planet’s surface makes it appear to dance across the sky.”

The chirp that alerted them to an incoming page sounded.

“Archer to Tucker and T’Pol.”

Trip pressed the comm. switch. “We’re here Captain.”

“Due to an unfortunate accident Major Hayes is not able to participate in an away mission on the planet below. He and T’Pol had planned to do some intelligence gathering, while the crew got that well-earned R&R I promised them.”

Trip winced. “I could take Hayes place.”

“My thought exactly. If you accomplish the mission quickly, you can take the rest of your R&R planet side.”

“T’Pol will brief me while we pack some things.” Trip looked at T’Pol who nodded yes. “Tell Travis we’ll be ready for transport in an hour. Tucker out.”

==

“Only one bag, sir?” Travis looked pointedly at the duffel Trip carried, while T’Pol carried nothing.

“Yes, ensign.” T’Pol confirmed. “We have only one bag.” Her tone of voice cut off any speculation on the part of the driver.

Trip hid a smirk with a cough. He was getting immense pleasure from knowing that his skivvies were entangled with T’Pol’s in the bag that they decided to share. Pleased that was until he realized that his underwear was getting more action than he.

==

Trip waved as Travis backed the shuttle out of the docking port, leaving the couple alone. The transfer of holiday makers from Enterprise was not scheduled to begin for another hour.

The cover that T’Pol and Hayes had devised was a pair of supply officers, prepared to spend to replenish the ship. With Trip in Hayes place, they changed the scenario slightly. T’Pol was supply and Trip the engineer looking for replacement parts.

T’Pol put her hand on Trip’s forearm to restrain him, “A reconnaissance first, then we should establish a base of operations.”

“Something with mirrors on the ceiling?” Trip winked. “Or would you prefer a champagne glass shaped hot tub?”

“Something five-star, with room service and view of the moon,” declared T’Pol. “We must present the appearance of significant wealth, if we are to draw out the informers.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Trip enfolded her into his arms, and swung her about. “Nothing but the best for my girl!”

T’Pol protested.

“I’m in character, honey.” He set her down. “You said you wanted us to look like a romantic couple taking advantage of an expense account.” He held her at arms length. “In the original plan was that your idea or Hayes’?”

T’Pol said nothing preferring to let him stew at the implications of the unanswered question. Trip had a vision of his future if he and T’Pol became a couple. To make it work, he would have to relinquish considerable control of his life to her. Was he prepared to do that? The question took the edge off his excitement.

==

To secure their cover, they left a small fortune in local currency in a number of appropriate establishments. Chef would have new delicacies with which to concoct recipes. Malcolm would gain new explosives. Trip found some parts that he felt he could retro fit to replace some Starfleet issue that had begun to wear.

They dined in an expensive café, where they took a seat at a table under an umbrella on the patio. Their table was near the fence that separated the patio from the public square. They ordered the most expensive item on the menu, and a bottle of wine worth a month’s wages.

The glint in the server’s eye was in anticipation of an obscene tip, when Trip said, “Forgot you ever saw us, will ya, pal?”

Trip arranged the chairs so that he and T’Pol had a 175° view of the square. He also arranged the chairs so that he could easily touch T’Pol with his hands and his mouth. She surprised him by making the first move.

With a finger she tugged his chin around so that he was facing her. She leaned toward him, halting her progress when she was in tongue’s reach of his lips. She parted hers, running her tongue across her lower lip, which caused his mouth to open automatically. She took the opening invading his mouth with her tongue. Immediately mission, confusion, the future were inconsequential. Only sensation, taste and desire mattered. The broke apart panting to rest their foreheads against each other, their eyes locked.

“You’re feeling the effects of that excess energy again, aren’t you, darlin’?” Trip whispered his question. Each word landed like a zephyr on her face, arousing her even more. “Can you hold on for another hour or so? I promise I’ll help you expend that energy as soon as we get to the room.”

T’Pol nodded her mouth dry with desire, so she sipped once again from his mouth. They did not break apart until the waiter coughed discreetly.

“Your wine, sir.”

==

They were finishing their meal when the waiter appeared. A small disreputable man hovered at his elbow.

“Excuse me, sir. This gentleman said that you were expecting him. Should I bring another chair?” The manner in which the waiter said gentleman turned the word into an expletive.

“No, he won’t be staying. Please bring me the bill.” The waiter bowed and departed. “Do I know you?”

The man moved with a crab like sideway movement. “No you don’t, but you want to.”

“How is that?” Trip lowered his voice and the small man sidled closer.

“For a price, I can get you the maps.”

“What price?”

They haggled, finally agreeing on an amount equivalent to a new shuttle pod.

“Meet me here, tomorrow, at 10 in the morning. Bring the money.”

Trip turned to T’Pol. When he looked back the little man had disappeared.

“Let’s expend some excess energy, darlin’.”

Trip tossed some currency on the table, grabbed T’Pol’s hand and headed to their hotel.

End of Part Six

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