The Dining Hall

The Dining Hall

By Aquila

Rating: PG-13
Genre: Romance
Summary: Six months after Obedient Subversion.
Disclaimer: Let us pray that those who do own TnT do right by them.
==

The dining hall of Enterprise was a multipurpose room. When not used for feeding the anxious souls bent on protecting Earth from annihilation, the space was used to host formal events like movie night and informal gatherings such as this one.

By the view port, a gaggle of MACO had put two tables together so that they could sit together in noisy companionship. The members of the group were trading scores and mission highlights. Amongst them in Enterprise blue was the vivacious Lacy Neilson, whom T’Pol concluded irritably had joined Starfleet to find a husband.

Lacy flashed smiles indiscriminately, holding the gaze of any male with whom her eyes locked. T’Pol made note of the forbearance of the MACO females. They appeared to harbour no resentment toward the poacher. Perhaps the MACO had a no fraternization rule like Starfleet, thought T’Pol, which necessitated feigned disinterest.

T’Pol was sitting alone at a table with a portable processor glowing blue before her. She had left her quarters for the relative neutrality of the dining hall. An uncharacteristic restlessness had kept interrupting her concentration.

The dining hall was an area of unspoken truce where strained relationships could be set aside for short durations. No order to that affect had ever been given. The understanding had evolved. T’Pol had lived long enough amongst humans to know that if she had drawn their attention to the behaviour, the convention would vaporize without a trace.

The third point in an unacknowledged triangle in the room was the Chief Engineer. He was seated at a table that he had, until a few moments before, shared with Malcolm Reed and Travis Mayweather. Empty beer mugs were the flotsam left to mark their passing.

Ostensibly peering at the screen, T’Pol used her considerable peripheral vision to watch the antics of Neilson and the seeming lethargy of Tucker. As Nielsen’s flirtation escalated, so did T’Pol’s wrath. How could that bitch-in-heat behave in such an unseemly manner in front of her lover, the Chief Engineer? Such disrespect was unconscionable.

Tucker had tuned out everything and everyone the moment Subcommander T’Pol entered the dining hall. The effect of her presence was instantaneous and had been for more months than he wanted to admit. To his immense regret the passion was unrequited. The fleeting moment when it appeared as if he and T’Pol would be more than colleagues had passed long ago. He dropped his gaze from an invisible horizon to the dregs of beer in his mug. Damn the Xindi, damn the Vulcans, damn the…

“May I join you, Charles?” she asked rather loudly.

Trip’s head snapped up. Charles? T’Pol had never used his first name. Yet there she was standing before him, asking for permission to sit.

“Of course, Subcommander,” he stood to pull out a chair for her.

She noticed, although he did not, that Nielsen had turned her head in their direction.

When T’Pol was settled, Trip chose to sit in a chair beside her, which put his back to the MACOs. The Chief Engineer opened his mouth to saying something, but found his mind a blank. When he realized that he was gaping open-mouthed, he closed his jaw with a loud click, narrowly avoiding biting his tongue.

The anger and humiliation she had felt that long ago Friday afternoon when she found her lover with another woman was transferred to Tucker and the situation which to her eyes echoed somewhat that moment long ago. Unaware of her past, confusion engulfed the engineer, while curiosity consumed Nielsen.

T’Pol adjusted her position so that to an observer it would appear as if she and the Commander were enjoying a private communication of an intimate nature. For six months she had rebuffed every attempt he had made to communicate. The inexplicable change in her behaviour swept the confusion from his mind.

“Jeez, T’Pol,” he sputtered with anger, but kept his voice low. “You’ve treated me like Porthos’ excrement for six months, now all of a sudden I’m golden again? What the hell?”

“You accuse me of treating you with disrespect?” She was genuinely shocked. “Crewman Nielsen appears to be flaunting her interest in other men before your very eyes and you claim that I am treating you with disrespect?”

Equally shocked, Trip asked, “What the hell has Nielsen got to do with your sudden desire for my company…or anything for that matter?”

Nielsen found the tense body language, the lowered voices and the glare that the two focussed on each other illuminating. She dug the handsome MACO next to her in the ribs. When she had his attention she nodded her head in the direction of the two senior officers.

“What’s that all about?”

The entire table turned to look, unnoticed by Trip and T’Pol.

“That is the showdown for which we have all been waiting,” muttered her neighbour.

Another MACO declared, “Either he’s going to get real lucky tonight…” A female MACO finished his statement, “Or he’s going to lose his balls.”

It was Nielsen’s turn to be surprised, “T’Pol and Commander Tucker?”

The MACO next to her shook his head, “You didn’t know? You work for him!”

“How long has it been going on?” Nielsen asked.

Another female MACO answered her question, “We weren’t on board more than half a day when we heard the rumour.”

“Yeah,” said the other female MACO, “That’s because I made a remark to someone in astrocartography about the good looking Chief Engineer. Just something to say to break the ice.”

“Tell Nielsen what that crewman said about her boss,” urged the MACO at Nielsen’s side.

“Stand down,” she smiled ruefully in remembrance, “His ass and every other asset belongs to the First Officer, 24/7.”

“That’s just speculation,” scoffed Nielsen.

“And what would you call that?” someone asked her nodding toward the pair.

The MACO to whom Nielsen was most attracted answered for her, “A warp core breach.”

“What the hell has Nielsen got to do with your sudden desire for my company…or anything for that matter?” Trip’s question hung between them like a plasma cloud.

“Your lover appears to have grown tired of you and is on the prowl for another source of pleasure.” The accusation dripped with acid.

“My what?” Trip gripped the back of her chair with one hand and his chair seat with the other to refrain from throttling her. “I have never – never – entered into an emotional or physical relationship with a female in my chain of command. And not because it is a Starfleet regulation, but because it is morally repugnant to me. How could you accuse me of such a thing? You knew me better than anyone once. Do you think so little of me now?”

“But I saw…” The colour drained from her face.

Suddenly very calm, Trip asked, “You saw what? When?”

T’Pol pulled back, putting distance in between them. She closed her eyes and relived the moment that she saw him leave Nielsen’s quarters.

“You saw Nielsen in her pyjamas with her arms around my neck at an inappropriate hour, didn’t you?” He slumped back in his chair. “Son of a bitch.”

“Did I interpret the situation incorrectly?” she asked.

“Yes you did, darling’,” Trip ran a finger along her jaw line. A gesture that she should have rebuffed but brought such a sense of emotional relief that she did nothing.

“T’Pol, listen to my words very carefully. I am only going to say this once.”

She nodded in agreement.

“If I were going to scuttle my career by having an illicit relationship there is only one woman in this universe or any other that could inspire me to do that. You.”

He took one of her hands in his.

“My body misses your touch, T’Pol, not a woman’s touch, but your touch. I want your face to be the first that I see when I awake and the last I see before I sleep. I want your intimate things hanging across the shower rod in my head. I want to be the only male other than Phlox to know your monthly cycle. I want to be your most intimate companion and your best friend. I want you to trust me to remain faithful to you on away missions. You, T’Pol, only you.”

He caressed her cheek.

“I want my name to appear on invitations that begin T’Pol of Vulcan is cordially invited. I want the right to punch Malcolm in the nose the next time he looks at your ass with longing. I want to bury myself in your willing body, now and for the rest of our natural lives.”

He left go of her hand.

“What do you want T’Pol?”

“You.”

The end.

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A whole mess of folks have made comments

I like it, but would Trip be so direct in addressing T'Pol?

damn that was fried chicken good! loved the sequel, another perhaps?

YUM. That was amazing!

:) You might want to give this one a run through for typos. There were some pretty entertaining ones. Also, I wanted to see the MACOs at the end there, but pretty good over all.

Bit short, but WOW! You took my breath away! Thanks for the sequel. And if you got some time on hand...

Great. I loved it! But there was one part where Trip said 'Damn the Hindi' instead of 'Damn the Xindi' XD

Oh yes, loved this to bits! I want *more*, you cranked up the heat only to end the story. Howl! This begs for continuation not cessation. Really good, thanks for writing this. Ali D :~)
Hoping you'll produce such an outcry for more that you will weaken and feed the hungry horde...

My my Trip is a bit out spoken but I did like.

Loved the MACOs comments too.

I liked this very much, Aquila! And I thought being outspoken was one of Trip's defining characteristics--Ambassador V'Lar certainly thought so.

BTW: fixed the typos. 'Hindi' is 'Xindi' and 'maces' is 'MACOs'

Bucky

Oh, lovely, lovely, lovely. Happy endings are the best, aren't they?

i KNOW ur goin to update, am i rigt? do i need to beg?

Great story. I loved it!