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Flirtin'Author - Aquila | F | Genre - Friendship | Main Story | Rating - PG
Fan Fiction Main Page | Stories sorted by title, author, genre, and rating Flirtin’ By Aquila Rating: PG, Developing friendship, exploring relationships Spoilers Timeline: After Regeneration, before First Flight - Summary: Continues the premise established in “Someone was Seeking Permission to Enter” ======== The silent corridors reminded T’Pol that it was movie night. As she walked toward the Commander’s quarters, all off-duty personnel were settling in their seats in the mess. That her third appointment with the Chief Engineer coincided with a screening was another indication to her of his personal turmoil over his ill-advised attempt to emancipate the Vissian cogenitor. Had Commander Tucker agreed to the appointment to avoid socializing with the crew this evening? Outside the Commander’s quarters, the Vulcan stopped to mentally review the conversation she had had with the Captain about Commander Tucker. “Have you decided, Subcommander?” The question from the Captain was delivered in an uncharacteristically cool and clipped manner. She had hesitated before answering, as his question did not seem to follow logically the conversation they were having about possible promotions for junior command personnel. “Have I decided the severity of Commander Tucker’s reprimand?” She remembered asking, in an attempt at clarification. “So you have decided that a reprimand is necessary,” asked Archer in return. “As you pointed out three days ago, we have no choice. You must submit a full report to Starfleet about the incident.” The Captain had nodded in agreement. “The Commander’s role in the incident cannot be omitted.” She had hoped Archer had had time to think of an alternative to the reprimand. She had been disappointed. “Subcommander, even if we reprimand him, it is possible that Starfleet will order me to send him home for reassignment. They may not agree with our assessment. A great deal depends on whether the Vissians file a complaint.” T’Pol carefully considered her reply, then began, “It is possible that as a result of our First Contact the Vissians have decided not to pursue relations with Earth. There may be no report or complaint.” Archer sighed, “Then again, they may have already begun establishing diplomatic ties, just to ensure nothing like that ever happens again.” T’Pol pressed the button that announced her presence. The irritating chirping that resulted was cut short, by the swift opening of the door. From the darkened room drifted the smiling voice of Charles Tucker. “Come in, Subcommander. I hope you enjoy picnics?” Trip brought the interior lights up to 50%, revealing a checked tablecloth spread in the middle of the floor. Two pillows were placed kitty corner from each other. Sparkling glasses, cutlery and napkins for two were set on the cloth. As the Subcommander stepped across the threshold, Trip presented T’Pol with two fingers, from his right hand. Sufficiently startled by his surprise, without thinking she extended two fingers of her left hand. The pads of their fingertips lightly touched, sending a jolt up her arm to her heart. She drew in a sharp breath. Before she could break contact, Trip applied a slight amount of pressure, pulling her forward into the room and toward the nearest pillow. “Please be seated, Subcommander.” Tucker continued their fingertip contact until she was cross-legged on the deck. He had to smother his desire to raise a fist in triumph, then bring it down in a swift arc, while shouting yes, with a long hissing ess. Had he succumbed, he was certain that his guest would have bolted for the door, while calling for a medical team to take him to sick bay. Instead he said calmly, “I will be back in a minute. Please stay there. Don’t move.” The First Officer used his absence to regain her composure. She breathed deeply until her racing heart had stilled and the green blush that had risen to her face had subsided. “I had Chef pack a picnic basket for us. He said to put it in the shower stall to keep it cool until I served it. He made my mother’s potato salad recipe for us.” Trip grinned. “Haven’t tasted my Mama’s potato salad for nearly two years.” “Am I to assume that you have been studying the Vulcan database?” T’Pol asked, hoping the potato salad was a vegetarian dish. “Our talk yesterday made me realize that if I want to avoid making the same kind of mistake I made with the Vissians, I had better learn as much as I can about other species. The Vulcan database, and Vulcans, seemed like a good place to start.” Trip settled himself on the other cushion. “Your people do have some rather,” Trip did his imitation of T’Pol searching for an appropriate word, “quaint customs.” T’Pol countered, “As do you Commander?” “Excuse me?” Trip let a grin tease the corner of his mouth, as he prepared to receive a wry retort. “Have you noticed that when you are completely engaged by a new concept or idea, nearly all traces of your southern accent disappear?” It was Trip’s turn to blush. “You mean I don’t drop my g’s and say ya instead of you? Things like that?” “Exactly.” “You won’t tell anyone, will you, T’Pol.” Trip used his lower register to whisper his question. “It will be our secret.” T’Pol stretched her hand out, two fingers extended, her palm up. She held it there above the picnic cloth. Trip placed the fingertip pads of his two fingers lightly on hers, palm down. She applied a minute amount of pressure, sending an unexpected jolt of energy up the Commander’s arm and down his spine to settle in his groin. “I promise,” she whispered, before breaking contact. Jeez, thought Trip, who woulda believed it? The Vulcan database was right, a slight touch of two fingers between males and females can be down right sexy. No wonder they aren’t a touchy-feely people. They’d be hornier than a hound in heat if they did all the slapping and touching that humans do. “Your mother’s potato salad is rather pleasant, Commander,” complimented T’Pol as they concluded their picnic. “Do you think you could call me Charles, when we are alone like this, T’Pol?” When her eyebrow began to rise, he quickly continued, “After all, we’ve been rather intimate, haven’t we?” “What exactly did you read in the Vulcan database, Commander?” T’Pol held her breath. “That that little two fingered gesture between a woman and a man is equivalent to a heavy round of neckin’ on earth.” Trip grinned. “You are mistaken, Commander.” “Don’t’ get all huffy on me, Subcommander,” Trip pushed his advantage, “I compared the physical effects of the two-finger touch to that experienced by humans playin’ tonsil hockey. Same bio signs! Scientific fact!” T’Pol opened her mouth to protest. “Don’t you deny it, T’Pol. I felt your reaction. Both times!” “And I yours.” She had him. “And mine too.” Trip sighed. Flirtin’ with this woman was going to be a challenge. He looked forward to it.
****************** The series continues in Do You Want a Ship of Your Own?" Have a comment to make about this story? Do so in the Trip Fan Fiction forum at the HoTBBS! Half a dozen of you have made commentsOh please let T'Pol save Trip from Captain Archer's righteous recriminations. Loved T'Pol and Trip and I could hear Archer speaking those words inside my head - chilly! Thank you so much, can't wait to see what happens next. Fingers first, will it be toes next? Ali D :~) Nice little romantic interlude, but I do hope Trip isn't reprimanded, or Heaven FORBID, sent back to earth!!! Looking forward to the next part. Thanks. very cute! t'pol thought she could sneak in a few kisses without our favourite engineer knowing what it really meant.....not likey! hehehe. the next part had better come quick....maybe these two will want to find out how else they can get reactions put of each other! Oh yes! You will be writing more won't you?! Great addtion to your story line!! Sometimes Flirtin' is the best part. Can't wait to see what happens next. Seems like you're going to develope them slowly.. Excellent!! this is great!! but nooo, you cant send Trip back to earth!!!!! ~Sara~ |