Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

By Star Watcher

Rating – PG
Disclaimer – None of these characters belong to me, they belong to Paramount!!
Genre – Pure Fluff. Seasonal/Romance.

Summary – Christmas, Enterprise style! Set at the end of Season 4.

December 20th, five days before Christmas.

Chief Engineer Trip Tucker sat in Enterprise's mess hall, absently stirring a cup of thick green liquid, not feeling particularly Christmas-y. He picked it up and lifted it to his lips before sniffing. It smelt disgusting.

It had all started three days previously. Enterprise had been en route back to Earth for some well-deserved festive leave, when it had encountered an Andorian trading vessel, which had been in space several years and in dire need of some EPS conduits. Archer had been happy to supply them, that is, until Rostov from Engineering, and his team had returned to the ship with coughs and colds, which had quickly developed into a severe, debilitating and highly contagious form of flu, which conveniently the Andorians were immune to, but humans were not. Now the whole crew was infected and had been quarantined above Earth until after the New Year by Starfleet Medical Personnel. The crew were beginning to go a little nuts cooped up with nothing to do, and being forced to drink copious amounts of disgusting medicine prescribed by Dr Phlox.

Trip was extremely pissed off about the whole situation. During their last shore leave he had hooked up with an old school friend, Claire, who now had a job at Columbia University in the Languages Department. They had been out, had some drinks, well, a lot of drinks, and had started to rekindle the romance that had been there when they were children in the playground. Now they were adults, their playground was much bigger, and the flame was still there. Not that anything had happened, just a lot of looks, bit of hand holding and enough chemistry to keep Engineering ticking over like a charm for decades, but it could definitely go places. They had arranged to spend the New Year together, and now he was stuck aboard Enterprise.

Sub-Commander T’Pol walked into the mess hall. The flu had affected the Vulcan slightly differently; she had developed a severe green rash all over her body, which, despite her best attempts, and Dr. Phlox’s, she habitually scratched. Trip stole a glance at her, and as usual, found his eyes lingering on her longer than they should do. There was still something between them; he could feel it every time they were in a room together. That even included when she was ignoring him. But, what was he supposed to do about it? Trip had been over this what seemed to be hundreds of times with Malcolm, and Hoshi, on various occasions. Usually it would be after movie night, when Malcolm would produce a bottle of blended scotch, and the conversation would turn back to T’Pol, her feelings for him, which had been helpfully supplied by Hoshi, because of the mind-meld she and T’Pol had shared, his feelings, and what they were going to do about it. Trip’s response was always the same:

“I’m not getting younger. She’s, regardless of what you guys say, made it perfectly clear that she’s not interested in me like that, so what do I do? I either sit around waitin’ for her to make her damned Vulcan mind up, or I try to find someone who reciprocates what I feel?”

Despite his protestations, however, Trip still felt a deep sense of sadness whenever he saw T’Pol, and of the life they could have had. His conversations with Lorian had revealed that, in another life, they would have married, had children, and been very much in love. Why couldn’t that universe be this one, instead of Trip feeling a little empty inside whenever he saw her? Their relationship had practically returned to its frosty plateau it had been when she first came aboard, and outwardly she gave no indication she had any feelings for him. So, he had tried to move on. There were plenty of willing and able females aboard Enterprise, some, such as MACO Amanda Cole that he was rather partial to. But, if he was honest, none of them were T’Pol, and if he was even more honest, he didn’t know if any woman would ever compete with her. His mind travelled back to that fateful night, the one time he had ever seen her lose control of her emotions. It had been the best sex of his life. Such thoughts were, however, marked by the bitter conversations and acrimony that had ensued as he tried to get through to her, only to have his gentle attempts at establishing a relationship squashed.

Hence his arrangements with Claire. He didn’t know if it would go anywhere, but he couldn’t sit around nursing a broken heart for the rest of his life.

However, T’Pol came to sit next to him. “Good evening, Commander. May I sit down?”

Trip shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He stole a look at her. “Rash is almost clearing up.” He said.

“It itches. As yet Phlox has not been able to synthesise a lotion to prevent the irritation.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes.

“Did you have any plans for the vacation we were meant to have?” T’Pol asked suddenly.

“Yeah, matter of fact, I did. What about you?”

T’Pol shook her head. “I was going to remain on Enterprise and work.” More silence. “What were your plans?” T’Pol asked. Trip looked surprised. T’Pol did not make small talk.

“Was gonna meet up with an old friend. Not seen her for a while.”

“Her? Your friend is a female?”

“Yeah, why, you jealous?” Trip said. T’Pol raised an eyebrow at him. “Hardly. Vulcans do not succumb to jealousy.”

“Oh yeah, right, I forgot, you just nerve-pinched Amanda by accident.” Trip snapped, referring to T’Pol and Amanda Cole’s abortive neuro pressure session.

“I did not ‘nerve pinch’ her, as you call it, I merely applied too much pressure.”

Suddenly, Trip didn’t know what came over him, but he pushed his chair back so far it tipped over, and, leaning over T’Pol, he snapped in a lowered voice.

“T’Pol, it is none of your goddamned business whether I’m meeting up with a man, woman or vegetable. Yes, it is a female, yes, I do find her attractive, and yes, I would like to pursue a romantic relationship with her. You had your chance and you blew it.” With that, he turned on his heel and left.

Once outside the mess hall, Trip blew a deep breath out a leaned against the corridor wall. He hadn’t meant to snap like that. But he wanted her to know that he had moved on and wasn’t still entertaining delusions of a Vulcan-human relationship. God, what an unmitigated disaster that would be. He went to his quarters. He had a subspace message from Claire. Her face appeared on the screen. She was wearing a Santa hat and had a huge smile on her face as she spoke into the recorder. She was off to her department Christmas party as an elf. She couldn’t wait to see him; she had missed him, and would be waiting under the mistletoe at the airport for a belated Christmas kiss when he came home.

Trip looked at the picture of Claire. He’d always harboured a crush on her from when he was about twelve until he left for Starfleet at eighteen. She had been his prom date and his first kiss, his first sexual experience, and his girlfriend for two years. Then Starfleet and Northwestern University Languages Department had torn them apart. Trip had always harboured hopes of them getting back together. She was still just as beautiful as the day he had thrown orange juice over her in the school canteen; deep mahogany curls, big green eyes, freckles, petit, slight frame, infectious laugh. She was warm, caring, and wanted him. So why was he still thinking about a cold, detached, green-blooded Vulcan? Trip replied with his message explaining that he would be unable to see her until the 4th of January, but that he couldn’t wait to see her either, and would see her as soon as he was able to.

December 21st, four days before Christmas.

Sub-Commander T’Pol sat on the bridge examining duty rotas with a frown. They were short in several departments for the Christmas shift, as many crewmembers were still confined to quarters. Several crewmembers had formed romantic attachments during their time away from Earth, and had arranged to spend some part of the festive period together. T’Pol herself, who was not on duty Christmas Eve or Christmas Day, had planned to spend the entire forty-eight hours meditating and purging her system, in an attempt to rediscover the control she had once had over her emotions. Phlox had warned her that she may never do so after her Trellium experiments, and her dalliances with Trip, but she had to try. The two days in December were the only two days she where she was off duty for two consecutive days for the next six weeks, and she could not hope to achieve successful meditation for one full day, she simply needed the two days off together.

After two hours of rearranging duty rotas, T’Pol was finally convinced that she had solved the problem. She had arranged to work three consecutive shifts in the run up to Christmas Eve, as she not only required less sleep than humans, and thus give crewmembers who had families or loved ones time with them, and they in turn would cover for her while she was off duty, but Vulcans did not celebrate Christmas. It wasn’t an ideal solution, but it was the only one.

She presented her idea to the Captain that evening while she, Trip and Archer had dinner together. Archer examined the details on the PADD and nodded. “As you say, T’Pol, it's hardly an ideal solution, and you have cut each department down to its bare minimum to accommodate people who are still sick and those who have families.”

“Indeed. The only crew member I could not accommodate was Lieutenant Janet Webb”

“Janey Webb? She’s one of my guys, I’ll swap with her.” Trip said. Webb had given birth several months ago and had only just returned to duty from maternity leave.

“You are already covering Engineering and the Bridge in a double shift, Commander. You would be exhausted.” T’Pol responded.

“I’m not having her daughter spend her first Christmas without her momma!” Trip said. “Its bad enough that she’s got to stay on Enterprise, but she shouldn’t be alone at Christmas!”

“She will not be alone, her father will be with her.” T’Pol countered, referring to one of the MACOs, Corporal Andy Richmond.

“I’ll work the shift.” Trip insisted.

“I fail to understand why you are persisting in this, Commander.” T’Pol said. “I have already allocated Lieutenant Webb a day off during my three shift bloc.”

In truth, Trip couldn’t fault her logic. She was the one pulling triple shifts, plus her other shifts, to ensure that the crew who were capable of working could have at least some time off. As childish as it sounded, he simply wanted to antagonise her, get a rise out of her, anything to show that she had feelings, even for a Vulcan. Archer seemed to sense it too. He put down his fork and looked at the two of them sternly. “I don’t know what’s going on with you two,” he said, “but it's getting ridiculous. The pair of you have never seen eye to eye in the past, but this time it’s worse. I need to be sure that my two senior officers can work together and aren’t going to stab each other in the back trying to get one over on the other.”

“Captain-“ Trip went to protest, but Archer cut him dead. “I have decided that, to get in the festive spirit, we’ll be having a Christmas party in the mess hall. I want the pair of you to organise it.”

“Now Jon-“ Trip began. “Captain!” T’Pol also began. Archer held up his hand. “I don’t want to hear it.” He looked at Trip. “You designated yourself Social Secretary, and you, T’Pol, you’re responsible for the morale of the crew.” He looked at them both. “It doesn’t have to be fancy; some music, food, maybe a tree, something to make the crew feel festive. I want you two to prove to me that you can work together. I know you can, I’ve seen you do it in the past, so show me again. You’ve got four days to plan and implement this party.”

The rest of the meal was eaten in silence.

December 22nd – Three days to Christmas.

The next day the first thing T’Pol did was to distribute the Christmas rota. Webb said nothing as she scanned hers, and simply went about her business as normal. After that, T’Pol went directly to Engineering. While riding the turbo lift, she glanced at her reflection in the command panel. Green scabs glared back at her. She ran a hand over them. She was not prone to vanity, but had to admit, she did not look her best. Not that she was concerned; she was only going to see Commander Tucker. Their relationship had dramatically deteriorated of late; she knew it had been a mistake to explore human sexuality with him; they couldn’t be in the same room with each other now, and the Captain had noticed. She would have to put a stop to this juvenile behaviour.

Trip was busy with the warp injector when T’Pol arrived. Every few years, the reactor needed shutting down, dismantling, and cleaning. It was a massive job, and could take weeks, if not months. Trip was in the middle of creating a refining fluid that would halve that time. The last thing he wanted was to be pestered by some uppity, unemotional, pain-in-the-ass Vulcan.

“I’m busy, Sub-Commander.” He said, not looking up from his cramped desk in his cramped office as soon as he heard the door open. How did I know she was even in there? he asked himself. T’Pol stood in his doorway, trying not to look at the garish Christmas decorations someone had festooned round Engineering.

“I am also busy, Commander, but I have also been considering the Captain’s orders from last night.”

“What of ‘em? There’s no way I am plannin’ anything with you, nevermind a party. You wouldn’t know what one was if it bit you on the ass!”

T’Pol was unmoved by his outburst. Not only did she not believe it, but also neither of them had the time to spare arguing about such trivial matters. She handed him a PADD.

“I have been doing some research on traditional Christmas celebrations on Earth. It appears we require a tree, which we then adorn with coloured glass spheres.”

Trip tossed the PADD on his desk. “In case you haven’t noticed, T’Pol, Enterprise isn’t exactly overflowing with greenery at the moment, and we’re in space. No trees.”

“I expected such a response.” T’Pol snapped. “ I proposed that you create a holographic version of a tree for the crew. It would not require too much time or effort if we work together.”

“You have got to be kiddin’ me! I’ve been busting my butt off to purge the warp drive, and now you’re worried about Christmas trees! Go make one yourself if you’re that worried!”

“I am not worried about the tree!” T’Pol shouted. Trip’s eyes widened in surprise. He didn’t think he had ever heard T’Pol raise her voice. Several crewmembers stopped, anxious to hear what Trip had said that would cause the Vulcan to flip. T’Pol walked over to where Trip was standing and leant very close to him, her eyes flared with anger. “Believe me, Commander, I, too, have no wish to spend any time than is absolutely necessary in your presence, and I also find the Captain’s orders to be somewhat . . . perplexing, but I also do not want a reprimand in my personal record, simply because you felt the need to be petty and juvenile at every available opportunity.” She said through clenched teeth. Shit, thought Trip, she’s really pissed.

T’Pol, however, suddenly seemed to get a grip on herself, paled visibly as she realised what she had said, and hastily stepped away from a shaken Trip. “Your shift finishes at 1700 hours. I have arranged for Rostov to relieve you for four hours before I begin my three shifts. If you would join me in the mess hall I believe we will be able to plan a party in that time.” With that, she turned on her heel and left, trembling.

T’Pol worked through her lunch break in order to complete her preparations for her triple shifts on time for meeting Trip at 1700 hours. She felt tired and hungry as she left the Science department for the Mess Hall. The last thing she wanted to do was sit with Commander Tucker and fight with him about planning this Christmas party that she saw no need for. Once she arrived, however, she was greeted to a sign on the door that read ‘Keep Out – Festive Party-Planning in Progress’.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the doors and found Trip inside, listening to Christmas songs, whistling to himself. He was sitting at a table. Pieces of equipment were scattered around him.

“Commander. You are early.” She said stiffly. Trip put down his soldering iron and gave her his trademark roguish grin.

“Sub-Commander. Glad you could join me.”

“How long have you been here?” T’Pol asked icily. She was in no mood for this.

“Long enough to do this.” He fitted a small command chip to a brown pot from the galley, which he had adorned with festive decorations. A seven-foot Christmas tree, complete with baubles, tinsel and a star suddenly appeared. T’Pol raised an eyebrow. “It is a Christmas tree.”

Trip’s grin turned a little sheepish. “I know. I’ve also have been here long enough to make you this.” He produced a covered dish from the chair next to him, and set it on the table in front of him. “Call it a peace offering.” He said, motioning for her to sit, which she did.

Uncovering the dish, T’Pol’s nostrils were filled with a sweet sickly scent. “What are these?” she asked. “They’re pancakes with maple syrup.” He explained. “My pop used to make them for mom whenever they’d had a row.”

“An apology?”

“Yeah.”

“And this is your apology?”

“Yeah, I’ve been a real ass recently, and I wanted to apologise. Try some, they’re really good.”

Obligingly, T’Pol cut a piece off and ate it. Then ate more, and more, until they were gone. “Delicious. Apology accepted.” she said. Trip grinned.

For the next four hours, the pair worked tirelessly, sorting out a menu for Chef to prepare, music to retrieve from the Starfleet database, and other decorations Trip promised he would synthesise. Finally, at 2100 hours, they were done. As Trip yawned, anticipating his bed with joy, T’Pol made herself a cup of tea to take to the Bridge.

“Off for your triple shift?” Trip asked. T’Pol nodded. “It made sense for me to bear a heavy number of hours. I do require less sleep than humans, and have no family on board.”

“We're not your family?”

“The crew of Enterprise have grown on me, I admit.”

“Yeah, they do that to you.” Trip turned to leave the Mess Hall, PADD in hand, then stopped, and turned to face T’Pol.

“I’m sorry about bein’ an idiot.” He mumbled

“You have nothing to apologise for, Commander. It has not been easy for either of us, and I owe you an apology as well. I realise at times it must be . . . difficult to work with me, not only under the present stressful conditions, but also with everything that has transpired between us. You have performed admirably under the circumstances.” T’Pol admitted. Trip held her gaze.

“You’re so beautiful.” He said softly.

“Trip-“

“I’ve been such an idiot these past few months, T’Pol. Guess I just got tired of waiting for you to make up your mind about what you wanted. Or rather, who you wanted.”

“Trip-“ Again, Trip cut her off.

“Merry Christmas, T’Pol, see you at the party.” Then he left, leaving her standing alone in the Mess Hall.

It was the very early hours of Christmas morning when an exhausted T’Pol finally returned to her quarters. She had divided her time between the Science department, the Bridge and Engineering, and just as she was about to finally finish, Ensign Jackson from the Science Department had damaged a stasis container, spilling toxic chemicals into the department. It had taken her ten hours to clean it and decontaminate herself. Now she simply wanted her bed. Not even bothering to undress, she fell into a deep sleep.

T’Pol awoke at what she thought was late Christmas afternoon, but found the familiar figure of her mother standing over her bed.

“Mother?” T’Pol asked, confused. T’Les nodded.

“What are you doing here? You are dead.” She stated flatly.

“You need guidance, T’Pol. You have always had difficulty controlling your emotions. Now it appears you may have problems expressing them too.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Trip. He loves you. You risk making a terrible mistake unless you tell him how you feel. Let me show you.”

Suddenly, T’Pol found herself watching herself and Trip, several years in the past, from their initial frosty encounters, to their session in the decon chamber, to Trip encouraging her to try new things, such as movie night and pecan pie, then to his gentle and tender advice about her marriage to Koss. Then the neuro pressure, their gentle lovemaking into the early hours. The smell of his skin against hers, the taste of his mouth on hers. Then that awful trip to Vulcan where she had married Koss, Trip and T’Les’ conversation, with T’Les urging Trip to tell T’Pol how he felt. His steadfast refusal to burden her anymore, to watch the woman he loved marry another. His attempts to forge a relationship with her. Her cold rebuttal.

“Do you not see? He loves you, T’Pol.”

“That was then. Things change.” Whispered T’Pol, not wanting to see anymore.

“Not everything, daughter.” T’Les said gently. Fast forward to present day. The pair working on the Christmas party with the ease they used to have with each other for a time; the fiery glances Trip was steal in T’Pol’s direction when she wasn’t looking; the way he admired her whenever he saw her, his conversation with her before she went on duty.

“He does not feel anything for me. He has told me so. He is meeting with another female when we are allowed off the ship.” T’Pol insisted.

“Is that what you think? That he feels nothing for you?” T’Les asked. T’Pol saw Trip, Hoshi and Malcolm sitting in the mess hall. There was no one else around. An empty bottle sat next to Trip.

“Come on, Trip, just tell her how you feel.” Malcolm was saying. Hoshi was nodding. “She does love you Trip; I’ve melded with her, remember? I know.”

“It doesn’t matter guys, nothing’s gonna happen, as much as I would like it to.” Trip went to stand up, stumbled, went to sit down, missed the chair, and fell on the floor. Hoshi looked at Malcolm, dismayed at seeing her friend so desolate, and hastily departed, leaving them to talk. “What am I gonna do, Mal? I love her and she hates me. She thinks I’m a useless, smelly human. I’ve tried to forget her and I just can’t.” Trip groaned, his head in his hands. Malcolm put a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder as Trip finally caved in to tears.

“That did not happen!” T’Pol shouted as she observed the scene. T’Les raised an eyebrow. “How are you to know, T’Pol? You were not there.”

T’Pol narrowed her eyes. “I have been reading about Earth Christmas traditions, including the escapades of a certain Mr. Scrooge.”

“Daughter, I am afraid I do not know who you are referring to.”

“He is visited on Christmas Eve by three ghosts, who show him the supposed error of his ways, in the past, present, and future.”

“You believe you are imagining this?”

“Yes.”

“That may well be true.”

“Shouldn’t you be showing me the future now?” T’Pol asked.

“Very well. There are two possible futures.”

T’Pol suddenly found herself on a beach on earth. A little girl, no more than six or seven, was running along the beach. She had blonde hair and blue eyes. Trip’s daughter, thought T’Pol. A woman picked her up. She had long mahogany curls and a ready smile.

“What is this?” T’Pol asked. Trip came to join the two women on the beach. He was smiling, yet the smile did not quite each his eyes. There was a certain wistfulness behind them.

“This, T’Pol, is the future, or, at least, one possible version of it. This is the woman Trip is going to meet after Christmas. He leaves Starfleet for her, marries, and has a family. But, as much as he adores and loves his wife, he never forgets you.”

“What about me?” T’Pol whispered. She saw herself, on Vulcan, in the Science Institute, looking down a microscope.

“You return to Vulcan, and to Koss. You resign your commission and take an academic post at the Science Institute.”

T’Pol looked closer at the scene. Next to T’Pol’s microscope was a half-eaten slice of pecan pie.

"Trip and I-“ she began. T’Les shook her head.

“You do not speak again after he leaves Starfleet.”

T’Pol felt tears at her eyes. The thought of spending the rest of her life without him was too much to contemplate. She turned to face her mother. “You said there was another possible future. What is it?”

“You tell Trip you have feelings for him.”

“And?”

T’Les did not answer. She disappeared. “MOTHER!” T’Pol shouted after her.

She awoke with a start. Her sheets were caked with sweat. She was caked with sweat. She showered quickly and then glanced at the time. It was early Christmas afternoon. T’Pol dressed, then headed for Engineering.

Janey Webb was busy monitoring the warp drive when Sub-Commander T’Pol walked in.

“Sub-Commander. I thought you were off duty today.” She said, surprised.

“I am.” T’Pol said.

“What can I do for you?” Webb asked.

“I wish for you to leave Engineering.” T’Pol said. Webb looked shocked. “Sub-Commander? Is there something wrong with my work?”

T’Pol shook her head. “No, quite the opposite. I will take over your shift; you should spend the time with your family. Dismissed.” Her tone indicated she would tolerate no opposition.

Trip walked towards Engineering an hour or so later, having just had a meeting with the Captain. He had received an unusual Christmas present this morning; the Institute of Warp and Engineering Theory in New York had offered him a job! He had been shocked, but flattered, and had promised to pay them a visit while he was on Earth. If things worked out with Claire, that job would be perfect. Archer, while being gutted at the prospect that they might be losing their Chief Engineer, had given him his full support. Trip had decided to be festive and don a Santa hat. The party would be starting soon and he was in the mood to celebrate. For the first time in months, he felt like his life was getting back on track. That is, until he walked into Engineering and, instead of seeing Webb, saw T’Pol.

“What are you doing here? Thought you were off today?” he said.

“I relieved Webb of duty. She should spend the time with her family.”

Trip looked surprised. “Very charitable of you.” No response. “You goin’ to the party later?”

“Of course.” T’Pol could not bring herself to look at him, and busied herself with purging the injector assembly.

“Great, I’ll see you later then.”

Webb’s relief arrived just after 1800 hours, and T’Pol made her way to the mess hall. The party had already started, and T’Pol had to admit, she and Trip had done a good job. The mess hall was adorned with festive decorations, the tree, and plenty of food, drink and appropriate music, which T’Pol disliked, but kept quiet. She was presented with a Santa hat upon entry by Trip, who, once she had put it on, fell apart laughing because he said she looked like a pixie with her pointed ears. Archer, Malcolm and Hoshi all agreed. Overall, the party seemed to be a great success, the tree was very much admired by all, the only blip was when Malcolm, who had consumed far too much festive punch, also provided by Trip, tried to give Hoshi a fireman’s lift and dropped her.

It was the early hours of the morning when the party finally finished, and T’Pol and Trip, as the organisers, could begin to tidy up. Trip put ‘Have Yourself a Merry Christmas’ on the computer sound system, as they began to clear away glasses and plates.

“Did you have a good evening tonight, T’Pol?” Trip asked. T’Pol nodded.

“Yes, I did. It appears the crew did as well.” T’Pol had received several compliments about the party, mainly from inebriated crewmembers.

“We throw a good party, T’Pol.” Trip said. T’Pol raised an eyebrow at him.

“I did not do very much, Commander, it was you who selected the food, the music, the decoration, and this rather interesting beverage.” She said, indicating to the glass of punch she was drinking.

“You like it?”

“It has a distinctive taste.”

“I’ll say! Look, T’Pol, if it hadn’t been for you there wouldn’t have been a party, and you did just as much as I did, give yourself some credit.”

“This is an agreeable song.” T’Pol said, changing the subject.

Trip nodded in agreement. “Yeah, its one of my favourites. Oh, wait, damn! Can’t believe I forgot it!” he dashed off towards the computer and pressed a few commands.

“What are you doing?” T’Pol asked.

“Wait a moment. There we go.” Trip whispered. Gentle white flakes began to fall.

T’Pol raised a brow. “Snow? It does not snow in space, Commander.”

“It’s cheesy, I know, and technically it’s not snow, its coolant compressed into balls in the mess hall’s air system. It won’t last very long, but I meant to set it off before, y’know, to get us in the festive mood.”

“It is a very touching gesture, Trip. I’m sure the crew would have liked it.” T’Pol said. Trip gently reached towards her and removed some flakes of snow from her hair. His hand gently moved to stroke her face.

“I see now why you humans celebrate Christmas.” T’Pol said.

“Why’s that?”

“It is my understanding that this time of year is usually spend with people you care a great deal for.” T’Pol looked up at him, but instead saw something suspended from the ceiling.

“Mistletoe, Commander?”

Trip grinned. “Been hopin’ maybe Hoshi and Malcolm would get the hint and kiss already.”

“We are the ones standing below mistletoe, Commander. By festive tradition, we must kiss.”

“Guess we better had then.” Trip whispered. He gently kissed her on the cheek, but her head twisted at the last moment, so his mouth made contact with hers. For several minutes they stayed like that, Trip gently swaying her to the music, kissing her passionately. The sound of the communicator broke their moment.

“Phlox to Commander Tucker.”

“Tucker here.” Trip said, reluctantly breaking the kiss.

“I have some good news for you, Commander. You are fully recovered, you may go on your leave tomorrow morning.”

“Thanks Doc, that’s great.”

“Have a good time with Claire!” came Phlox’s response.

Trip turned to look at T’Pol. The fake snow and the song had stopped. Her lips were still red from his kisses, and there was a slight stubble rash appearing on her chin.

“T’Pol-“ he went to explain, but she cut him off.

“You are going on leave tomorrow, Commander, go to bed, you will need your energy. I will finish clearing up.” Her tone of voice left no room for discussion.

Walking towards the airlock the next morning, Trip felt like a real shit. He had kissed T’Pol when we was supposed to be meeting Claire-- not that he was with Claire, but he still felt like a shit, especially because he had begun flirting with Claire because he was fed up waiting for T’Pol-- and just when he was really starting to feel something for Claire, T’Pol had to go kiss him! Well, he had kissed her, but she hadn’t put up any objections, far from it! What a mess, and, as usual, he was right in the middle of it.

Archer and T’Pol were waiting for him outside the airlock.

“Have an enjoyable leave, Commander.” T’Pol said to him. Any of the emotion she may have showed to him last night was now concealed beneath her Vulcan mask.

“Don’t forget, that job in New York can’t compare to Enterprise!” Archer joked. T’Pol looked at the two men curiously.

“Job?” she asked. Oh shit, I didn’t tell her, Trip thought. Archer, oblivious, carried on, telling T’Pol about Trip’s job offer. She remained silent. As Trip turned to get on his shuttlecraft, he stole a look at her. She suddenly looked very sad.

“Commander!” she called out to him, as the shuttle doors began to close. “Merry Christmas!” she called.

Trip looked around for Claire at the airport. His flight had been delayed by about half an hour, and the airport was busy. But, there she was, dressed in a blue shirt and jeans, her curls falling around her face, looking exactly the same as she did when they were kids. Her face lit up at the sight of him, and she threw his arms round his neck.

“Hiya handsome.” She said huskily. Trip felt his legs go a little weak.

“Hi yourself.” Before he could say anything else, she pressed her lips to his and kissed him passionately.

January 4th.

Trip had come back from leave three days ago, and T’Pol had succeeded in saying barely three words to him. She had not asked him about his leave, avoided him at briefings and on the corridors, and spoken only to the Captain on the days the three of them dined together. She now suddenly understood why he had shunned her when she had returned to Enterprise in the days immediately after her marriage to Koss. She now understood his hurt, and he had simply met up with someone, not married them. Every time she saw him she felt a wave of sadness, especially as he seemed so happy. She thought back to Christmas Day, when they had kissed under the mistletoe. Why had she done that? Because she had wanted to. It had been a highly illogical idea. It seemed like a hundred years ago rather than a week, and she had thought of nothing else.

She had retreated to the gym after her shift to work out, lest Trip come to find her. He had tried numerous times to talk to her, but she had managed to evade him. Curious, she reflected, as she pounded the treadmill, pushing her body to its limit, that their relationship had now reversed itself, with her being the one evading him, rather than the other way around. She slowed to a slow walk; she needed to meditate and focus on controlling her emotions. Stopping the treadmill, she began to stretch.

Then, as if on cue, Trip walked into the gym in sweatpants and a vest. He stopped when he saw T’Pol. She was caked in sweat and clutching a towel, doing her very best to ignore him studiously.

“Commander.” She muttered. She went to push past him but he grabbed her arm.

“Hey, where you goin'?” he said gently. She wouldn’t look at him.

“For a shower.”

“Fancy workin’ with some pads? I could use the practice.” He asked hopefully.

“I-“ T’Pol tried to think of an excuse. None came to mind. Trip dragged her back towards the matted area and handed her some sparring gloves before holding the punch bag. “Gotta talk to me sometime.” He said, indicating for her to strike the bag.

She started to hit the punch bag, focusing on the sound created by her gloved fist impacting with the padded bag, rather than the closeness of Trip and the heat emanating from his body.

“How was your leave?” she asked after a few minutes.

“Fine, great, actually. Whoa!” Trip said, as T’Pol hit the bag so hard she knocked him off his feet.

“When do you begin your job in New York?”

“I’m not sure if I’m taking it.”

“I thought you said you were?”

Trip took hold of the bag again. “Yeah.”

“You don’t sound too enthusiastic.” T’Pol began striking the bag less viciously now.

“Well, there’s something missing.”

“Missing?”

“Yeah, not sure if it's worth sticking around for though.”

“Well, what is it?” T’Pol said breathlessly, trying desperately to focus on hitting the bag and not Trip, in case she lost control completely.

“It's about five four, weighs ‘bout hundred pounds, short dark hair, brown eyes, cute little pointy ears that make her look like a pixie in a Santa hat, and one hell of a Vulcan temper on her.”

T’Pol had stopped punching now, and was just standing there, staring at him. He looked back at her, hope in his eyes.

“Some things are best left in the past, T’Pol.”

“Such as?”

“Claire.”

“What are you saying?” She asked.

“T’Pol, I love you. . . nothing happened with Claire and me. I . . . I just couldn’t. I thought about you every moment I was on Earth. The job in New York’s amazing, but if you’re not there, I couldn’t think of anywhere I’d rather be other than Enterprise.”

“You love me?” T’Pol said she had not heard another word he was saying. Trip nodded, and took her sweaty face in his hands. “Yes.” He said, pressing his lips to hers, oblivious to the shocked glances they were drawing in the gym.

“I . . . I…reciprocate your feelings, Commander.” She whispered back.

Trip grinned. “Good enough!”

FINIS

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A whole mess of folks have made comments

Great story I really am glad you had T'Pol and Trip admit their feelings for each other nice christmas story. thank you for shering your stories hope you'll write some more stories soon.

So I guess this is an alternate story to your other one and not a sequel, or did she dump him after tangoing with him and then this story happened? Either way, I like it.

Great story

I really liked this one. Very cute!!

I love Christmas. It's a great holiday. Thanks for this little treat! :)

I really enjoyed this story, it is excellent. Please write more soon !

like the story, especially the reversal of the usual roles of angster and angstee. keep 'em comin'.

I really liked it, but I do have 1 minor nitpick...by Season 4 isn't she simply 'Commander T'Pol' with no "Sub-" attached?

A nicely done story, fun with perfect pace!

Very nice story. Has got me in the christmas spirit even with the 92 degree temperatures outside. Well done. T

A nice holiday story. Are you new to this site? I haven't seen other stories by you yet. Please continue writing here and let us know if you want a beta reader now and then.

How did T'Pol's lips turn red from Trip's kiss? She has green blood, remember? Oh, I get it! He had to be wearing lipstick, huh? Tee-hee-hee! Sorry, I couldn't resist the chance to tease.