Court and Spark - Chapter 4

Court and Spark

by Ragua

Rating:
Disclaimers in Chapter 1.

Chapter 4

Distant shrill cries brought T’Pol slowly out of her meditative state. She breathed deeply, becoming aware of her surroundings once again. Vaguely she gazed about her. From the position of the sun, she surmised that she had been meditating for approximately an hour--much longer than she had expected. While extremely peaceful, the locale was not exactly conducive to the focus required for proper meditation. Chirping birds, thrumming insects, long-eared rodents hopping across the grass: all had conspired to distract her, with a surprising lack of success. Even the snoring of her companion had not been sufficient to disrupt her meditation.

The Vulcan glanced at the human asleep on the blanket next to her. Charles had suggested they take advantage of the fine weather and combine his nap and her meditation. At first, T’Pol had been skeptical of both his logic and his motives, but in retrospect, it appeared to be a beneficial combination. Far from distracting her, his presence had soothed her, enabling her to focus far better than she had in a long while. Lacking a candle, she had concentrated instead on the rhythm of his breathing and had quickly entered the familiar fugue state.

Her brow furrowed as she pondered the situation. It appeared that his mere presence had a calming effect on her. However illogical it seemed, the evidence could not be denied. She contemplated his sleeping form, admitting that it certainly was agreeable to look at. His snores, which should have been irritating, sounded almost melodious. His scent, which at one time had appalled her, now brought comfort and contentment.

As if aware of her regard, her companion lifted his head from the blanket, blinking dazedly. After gathering his bearings, he rose up on his elbows and turned a cherubic smile in her direction. T’Pol fought the urge to corral his wayward hair.

"Are you rested?" she inquired instead.

A yawn and a nod were the only response. For a moment it appeared as though he would lie back down and continue sleeping, but then the noises that had caught her attention earlier sounded again. This time, Charles heard them as well. He raised himself up onto his knees, eyes searching.

"The sounds appear to be coming from the front of the house," T’Pol offered. "Is there cause for worry?"

He turned back to her with a wry and somewhat weary grin. "Depends on how ya look at it, t’hai’la," he replied, his voice caressing the newly-learned Vulcan word. "It's like a military invasion. Or maybe a plague of locusts. But in a good way."

His figurative language provided T’Pol with the information she needed. "I fail to understand why you insist on referring to your sister’s children in such negative terms," she commented. It was yet another facet of human behavior that puzzled her. His words indicated that the children were to be feared. Yet his manner simultaneously demonstrated warm feelings for the as-yet-unseen nieces and nephew.

Before Charles could explain the dichotomy to her, two small humans rounded the corner of the house at breakneck speed, shrilling joyously as they bore down on T’Pol and her companion. Trip staggered to his feet, arms open. T’Pol, remembering the outcome of his greeting her in just such a manner, leapt up to offer support or protection.

It appeared that he might need both.

The smallest child was the first on the scene. She launched herself into her uncle, catching him at the midriff and forcing an "Oof!" from her target. Charles might have stayed on his feet had he not been faced with a second assault. The next child to arrive gained a higher altitude and threw her arms around his neck. The three quickly toppled over into the grass.

T’Pol looked on in concern, shifting uncomfortably. Should she attempt to detach the children? They obviously did not intend harm, yet their actions might further injure her mate! Before the Vulcan could decide upon a course of action, an extremely loud voice rang across the back yard.

"What did I tell you 'bout tacklin' your uncle that way?!? He’s been sick!"

The Vulcan whirled around to see a red-faced woman storming down upon the melee. From the striking resemblance to the pictures of the young Mrs. Tucker, T’Pol deduced that this must be her daughter, Jean.

The children retreated enough to allow their uncle to sit up shakily. The elder girl blanched with horrified regret. “It’s...it’s okay, Jeannie," Trip gasped. "Th-they're...fine." He patted his nieces soothingly to assure them that he was not at all upset by the ebullient greeting.

The breathless response and the pallor on his face accomplished more than their mother’s scolding. Both girls stared at their uncle, taking in for the first time the cropped hair, thinness, and barely visible scars. Until that moment, their mother’s warnings had only been words to them. Now it was reality.

Reality was too much for the youngest child. She began to wail, begging Uncle Trip not to die, and creating an entirely new crisis.

"Hey! Hey, Frankie, hon, it’s okay," Charles consoled his distraught niece. "I'm not gonna die! Everything’s gonna be fine!" When words didn’t work, he looped a long arm around her and drew her into a fierce hug. The little girl buried her face in his chest, weeping copiously.

This was too much for the older girl who made a face. "Don't be such a baby, Frankie!" Eyeing the child, T’Pol suspected that her disgust masked a jealousy that her younger sister had their uncle’s full attention.

Charles must have come to the same conclusion, as he quickly scooped the older girl into the hug with his other arm. T’Pol breathed a sigh of relief that the violently emotional reunion now seemed to have been accomplished with a minimum of damage done to her t’hai’la. She glanced over at the children’s mother, who was watching the scene with benign caution. When the human woman noticed her regard, she turned her attention to T’Pol.

"I'm sorry! I’m Jean Monaghan, Trip’s sister," she introduced herself. "You must be T'Pol!"

T’Pol confirmed the identification with a slight inclination of her head. "It is very agreeable to meet you, Mrs. Monaghan," she replied.

Charles' sister blinked in surprise at the appellation, and then began to laugh. "Mrs. Monaghan? I can’t remember the last time someone called me that! It’s Jean, please!"

T’Pol nodded again, then noticed Charles making an effort to get to his feet. The girls were attempting to assist him, without much success. T’Pol stepped forward and righted him easily. He grinned his thanks and put a hand on her shoulder to steady himself.

"And these two lovely ladies are Jeannie’s girls," he proclaimed grandly, flourishing a hand at the children. "Bernice Lee Monaghan and Frances Mulligan Monaghan. Ladies, this is my good friend, T’Pol’s

Before T’Pol could offer her own greeting, the littlest girl gifted her with a smile that was missing several teeth. “I like your ears!" she declared forthrightly.

T’Pol, long a veteran of the human fascination with Vulcan ears, replied politely, "Thank you, Frances. Your own ears are quite attractive as well," earning her a huge grin of appreciation from the gap-toothed waif. It also earned her a gentle squeeze from her mate, which she acknowledged with a sidelong glance and a coyly raised eyebrow.

The older girl seemed less taken with the Vulcan. She merely nodded coolly in acknowledgment of the introduction. “It is pleasant to meet you, Bernice," T’Pol offered.

"Bernie," the girl corrected abruptly.

Jean Monaghan took exception to her daughter’s uncivil response. “Don’t be rude, missy!" she snapped warningly.

"Forgive me," T’Pol sought to diffuse the situation. “I am unaccustomed to human nicknames," she explained.

Bernie eyed her mother warily before offering the Vulcan a sullen, "Sorry."

“Where’s Davy?" Trip asked, in an attempt to deflect his sister’s ire from her errant daughter. Jean favored the surly child with one last glower before turning her attention to her brother.

"He's inside with Ger and the 'rents," she replied. "They carried our stuff in. And it’s David, now," she corrected with mock severity. “He’s discovered coolness all of a sudden, and there’s no living with him!"

"Uh oh," Trip grinned. "First the coolness, then the chicks. You’ve entered the long, dark Night of the Teenager, Jeannie!"

"Hmmph!" Jean snorted as the small group began to make its way toward the house. "I'll 'dark' him if he thinks I’m going to put up with that attitude for six more years!"

Listening to the human siblings' discussion led T’Pol to conclude that the trials of adolescence appeared to be universal.

* * *

The two members of the Monaghan family T’Pol had not yet met--Jean's husband and son--could not have been more different from each other. Gerald Monahan’s face bore definite testimony to the fact that humans and the other Earth primates shared an ancestor, the only differences being a smattering of freckles and slightly slanted green eyes that glinted with amiable good-humor.

David Monaghan was the most reserved member of the Tucker family that T’Pol had yet encountered. If not for his mother’s earlier comments, the Vulcan might have wondered if the child were adopted. The gawky teen was apparently determined to maintain his fragile dignity, however much his parents and sisters attempted to dismantle it. He appeared most appreciative of her controlled greeting and her formal use of his full name.

Observing the Tucker family in action left T’Pol feeling somewhat like an anthropologist. Though many of the family members had not seen each other in quite some time, as evidenced by the numerous vocal and physical demonstrations of affection, the various individuals fell into roles that were obviously familiar and comfortable.

The house had a formal parlor, but the family--minus the children, who had been lured away by the forbidden promise of Grandpa Charlie’s workshop--chose to congregate in the kitchen. It seemed most illogical to the young Vulcan, as the parlor offered more room for the active family. She did have to admit that each member was engaged productively, contributing to the forthcoming meal.

Mrs. Tucker and Jean sailed gracefully between pantry, stove, drawers, and cupboards, with all the precision of a military drill team. Gerry Monaghan and Mr. Tucker were shelling peas and peeling potatoes, respectively. Even her t’hai’la was busy, folding napkins into interesting shapes, obviously for decorative effect. After a moment’s hesitation, T’Pol sat down at the kitchen table next to Charles, who smiled and immediately began to teach her how to fold the napkins into a shape called a 'bishop's miter.'

Mr. Tucker and his son-in-law were enjoying what the older man referred to as a 'slight libation.' (T’Pol had been offered a drink, but had declined. The beverages were not at all slight, but they certainly appeared to be libational.) Trip had been forced to abstain by his mother, who cited instructions from Dr. Phlox. Her t’hai’la pouted for several minutes before deciding that he would continue to make his 'hats,' despite being denied proper compensation.

T’Pol was confused by the reference. Surely they had been folding the napkins to be used at dinner? Then her companion placed one of the folded napkins on his head and struck a noble pose. This resulted in barks of laughter from the other men, who quickly decided that they needed 'hats' as well. As Trip hurried to comply with the request, the Vulcan glanced at his mother, hoping for some elucidation. Admittedly she was Vulcan, and therefore not conversant with all the intricacies of Earth humor; still, setting an artistically folded napkin upon one’s head did not strike her as particularly amusing, even for humans. Mrs. Tucker met T’Pol’s gaze and rolled her eyes, assuring the Vulcan that whatever humor was involved in the behavior, it was obviously weak, or perhaps gender-oriented. Relieved, she returned to her napkin-folding, simultaneously monitoring the conversation going on around her.

"Seems like old times," Jean reminisced from her position monitoring a pot on the stove. "All of us working our fingers to the bone while we wait around for Danny to finally show up!"

"Wouldn’t be a family dinner if Dan wasn’t fashionably late," Trip commented.

"Nothing fashionable about it," Mrs. Tucker grumbled as she sliced her way through a stack of carrots. "That boy wouldn’t know a decent outfit if it tackled him on a football field."

This statement piqued the Vulcan’s curiosity. Perhaps Charles’ unfortunate clothing choices were the result of a genetic deficiency? It was definitely something she should look into, if they intended to have children together.

"Hmph,” groused Mr. Tucker. "You'd think that stick-in-the-mud fella of his could get him places on time. Then at least he’d be good for something."

"Lighten up, Dad," Trip chided. "'Los is a good guy." He threw a teasing grin in his father’s direction. "You're just prejudiced 'cause he’s not a boozehound, like you!"

This statement brought a round of appreciative laughter from all present, with the exception of the aforementioned boozehound. Mr. Tucker glowered and flicked a potato peeling at his son, his scowl turning to a smile when the projectile found its target. Another bout of laughter ended abruptly as Mrs. Tucker scolded her husband for behaving like a child and dirtying her kitchen.

“And you know," Jean continued the attack, sounding eerily like her mother, "it's not like any of us put 'drinking buddy for Dad' high on the checklist when we were in the market for prospective life partners!"

Gerry chortled at this. "Yup, Charlie-Da, you just lucked out with me!"

“I’ll drink to that!" Mr. Tucker responded heartily. The two men clinked glasses and drained their tumblers.

T’Pol was intrigued by the interaction. So much about her t’hai’la was becoming clear to her. She reflected back on all their arguments, on his incessant needling. The Vulcan had always assumed his behavior was the result of negative feelings toward her, when evidence now indicated the exact opposite! In retrospect, it appeared as if Charles had accepted her and felt affection towards her quite early in their acquaintance.

Her thoughts were distracted by an uproar from the living room. All the humans looked in the direction of the noise, their faces wearing looks of resigned or exasperated affection. Charles got to his feet and tottered toward the kitchen door. Before he got there, it swung open violently.

“What kind of welcome is this for a poor, prodigal son?" the newcomer whined.

"Better than a swift kick in the ass, which is what you deserve for being so damn late!" Mr. Tucker growled in response.

Daniel Tucker chose to ignore his father, turning his attention to his brother instead, a huge grin lighting his face.

"Dan the Man!" Trip cried, opening his arms so wide that he wobbled slightly.

"Whoa! Trip the Crip!" Daniel responded with both delight and alarm, stepping forward to prevent a fall by enthusiastically embracing his brother.

The two men spent several moments laughing and back-thumping, then Trip stood his younger brother off at arms length. "Watch it, smartass, or I’ll smack ya with my crutch!" He then turned to T’Pol, who had risen to her feet for the obligatory introduction. Before her t’hai’la could speak, however, his brother advanced on her with open arms.

"T'Pol!" the redheaded human cried. "I've heard so much about you!”

The Vulcan froze. Up to this point, Charles’ family had been meticulously appropriate in respecting her species' preference for minimal physical contact. Such propriety appeared to be at an end, as Daniel Tucker obviously intended to enfold her in a rather ardent embrace.

Suddenly, he was jerked to a halt, eyes bugging slightly. T’Pol was startled to see an extremely large man materialize behind him, holding him by the collar. The large man transferred Daniel to a secure location under his right arm, placing the smaller man in a firm but gentle headlock. He then turned a slow, warm smile on her, raising his left hand in the traditional Vulcan salute.

"T'Pol," he greeted her quietly, white teeth flashing in his dark face. “It’s good to finally meet you."

The Vulcan returned his gesture, although she was still unsure of his exact identity. Charles, grinning delightedly, stepped in to rescue her.

"T'Pol, that’s my brother, Danny," he said jovially, pointing to the redhead now looking slightly embarrassed from his position under the larger man’s armpit. “And this is Carlos Briseno, his better half," Trip continued.

As T’Pol inclined her head in greeting, she heard Jean mutter darkly from somewhere behind her, "His much better half!"

Her brother chose to take exception to the remark, wriggling free from the headlock. "Still our own little ray of sunshine, eh Nurse Rachett?" he riposted, a smirk on his face.

In one swift motion, and with practiced skill, Jean used her spatula to scoop and fling something from the pot she was tending. Her aim was true. A single baked bean plastered itself to her brother’s forehead with an audible 'phutt!'

This was obviously akin to the throwing of a gauntlet, because Daniel yelped indignantly and launched himself at his sister. Before T’Pol knew what was happening, the two were tussling on the floor. The Vulcan glanced around uncertainly. No one moved to separate the combatants. In fact, only Mrs. Tucker reacted with any sort of censure, and her condemnation was restricted to a long-suffering sigh and a rolling of her eyes as she continued to bustle about the kitchen.

The men also continued their chores, but flattened themselves along the periphery of the room while doing so. From their seats they monitored the fight, cheering the siblings, offering advice, and commenting on technique.

As Jean and Daniel rolled her way, T’Pol stepped back to avoid a collision. The two quickly rolled in a different direction, leaving T’Pol staring after them in bemusement and consternation.

“It’s pretty overwhelming, isn’t it?" said a voice next to her. The Vulcan looked up, surprised to find Carlos at her side. She wondered how so large an individual could move so unobtrusively.

“Is this type of behavior common?" she inquired curiously.

Carlos's eyes shifted to the two wrestling on the kitchen floor. For the Tucker house? Yeah, it’s pretty normal," he responded, giving her an understanding smile. His eyes clouded momentarily. "Although this is the first time since Lizzie died that they’ve been like this." He glanced fondly at his partner. "Maybe this means Danny'll be lightening up some."

T’Pol pondered the grown man fighting with his sister on the floor of their mother’s kitchen. If she was correct in her interpretation of the slang phrase, she considered it unlikely that Daniel Tucker could get much 'lighter.'

For her part, Mrs. Tucker continued to prepare the meal, calmly stepping over her squabbling children whenever they rolled into her path. T’Pol was impressed. The human woman accepted the absurd situation with the equanimity of a Vulcan. Considering the childhood catastrophes recounted to her as the women had looked at the family photo albums, the Vulcan concluded that Mrs. Tucker had long ago learned to deal calmly with whatever fate happened to throw in her path.

T’Pol’s attention shifted to her t’hai’la. He had slid his own chair next to his father’s, and as she watched, the two men surreptitiously exchanged the tumbler full of bourbon. Obviously Mr. Tucker planned to take advantage of the distraction to share the 'slight libation' with his son.

The Vulcan narrowed her eyes at the attempted contravention of Dr. Phlox’s explicit instructions. Without a moment’s hesitation, she strode briskly across the kitchen, intercepting the glass as Charles raised it to his lips. Before either he or his father could protest, she gave Gerald Monaghan a searching look. The Irishman raised his hands in surrender, to indicate that he had no intention whatsoever of sharing his own drink. With her point made, T’Pol cast one last admonishing glance at the two shamefaced Charles Tuckers and swept up to the kitchen sink, dumping the contents of the tumbler.

In one synchronized motion, Mrs. Tucker plucked the empty glass from T’Pol’s hand, muttering, ‘Good girl!' The human woman then filled the tumbler with cold water and threw it on her two scuffling children.

"You've had your fun," she stated calmly, in response to their indignant cries. "Now clean up this mess and get ready for supper." When her children did not react with acceptable speed, Mrs. Tucker raised her eyebrows in intimidating disbelief. “Don’t make me come over there," she advised in a mild voice. The age-old threat worked. Jean and Daniel leaped to their feet and began to follow their mother’s instructions with alacrity.

Mrs. Tucker gave one sharp nod of approval and returned to her food preparation. She gave T’Pol a pat on the back. "Thanks for the help, honey. It’s nice to finally have some back-up." T’Pol nodded back in understanding, watching all the cowed Tuckers finally behaving in a manner deemed appropriate by the matriarch of the clan.

She raised her eyes to the other semi-objective observers present. A wicked and appreciative grin lit Gerry’s simian face, as he raised his glass to her. Carlos, leaning against the opposite wall with his hands in his pockets, nodded several times, his mellow smile offering her a warm welcome to their exclusive little club.

Chapter 5

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A whole mess of folks have made comments

I love this series - it's hilarious. PLease continue.

Awesome! LOL. His brother in law looks like a monkey. Cute.

I love this story. I think it's partially because it reminds me of my grandma's house when my family and my cousins are all over at the same time and we all get into it. My mom got my six foot tall cousin down in the floor the other day and made him say uncle. :) Your story is a very realistic picture of family life, and I love it.

This story to me just sounds like a regular day at my house! LOL Dad getting on mom's nerves with me to help him! :D Great story! It's nice getting a look into the Tucker home!

I really like Carlos!
Do we get to know, how and where he learned the Vulcan greeting?
IMO the whole kitchen wrestling-match was a little over the top.
But don't let that stop you from posting the next chapter like yesterday!
;-)

with so much do and wait work today its nice to have all this fic to read.

what a great addition to a wonderful series of stories.

love the family 'bickering' and love. seems so familiar to four of five here!

Your sound affects during the food fights had me cracking up! LOL

I love the Tucker clan! Thanks for sharing this!

Great Story!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Please Keep writing!!!!!!!!!!!

This is such a great story, I love the Tucker's! Keep em' coming, please!

Great story. Gerry and Carlos -- especially Carlos -- are interesting additions. I think I would've thrown the wrestlers out of my kitchen though! Good grief, what were they thinking?