Simple Pleasures

Simple Pleasures

by stubadingdong

Series: ENT

Summary: The title is rather self-explanatory. Almost everyone appears in this one. Yay!

Rating: PG-13, I suppose

Disclaimer: Standard ones apply...I have no money, blah blah blah.

Notes: Spoilers for Shuttle Pod One

Chapter One

Malcolm Reed strode into the mess hall with the purpose of a hungry bear. He’d been in the armory all day and had unintentionally skipped lunch. Trying to get the phase canons online seemed to be an ongoing project. Every time he’d get them stabilized, they’d go offline again. Malcolm began to think perhaps they were sentient and doing it on purpose to spite him.

He headed for the buffet, found some scraps that his fellow crewmen had been kind enough to leave him and looked around for familiar eating companions. He spotted Ensigns Mayweather and Sato against the far wall of the mess. Malcolm approached with a smile.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked with his distinct British voice. He hadn’t noticed them intently watching the table in the corner.

Hoshi glanced up and him and smiled broadly. "Hey Malcolm! Please, sit!" She gestured to the empty seat next to her. Travis flashed his senior officer a bright smile in greeting, and returned his attention to the corner table. Malcolm sat down between them and dug ravenously into his meal.

"What exactly are we scrutinizing, Ensigns?" Malcolm asked between bites, noticing the attention of the two ensigns was not at the table he was at. His gaze followed theirs to find Commander Tucker and Sub-Commander T’Pol at the point of interest. His fork stopped halfway to his mouth.

"I think it started out innocent enough," Hoshi whispered conspiratorially. "But now...I can’t believe they’re doing this in public!"

"Yeah," Travis sighed. "I don’t think they realize they’ve got an audience. It’s like they’re the only ones in here."

"I don’t believe it," Malcolm mused. He watched on as Trip Tucker carefully unscrewed a chocolate sandwich cookie and handed half to the Vulcan science officer. There was a large glass of milk between them. Trip carefully removed the white creamy filling with his tongue as T’Pol looked on, mimicking him.

"How long have they been at it?" he asked.

"Not too long," shrugged Hoshi. "Maybe ten minutes before you walked in."

They all watched in rapt silence as Trip’s eyes glazed over, studying his protégé’s efforts with the cookie. He lightly grasped her wrist and led her cookie to the glass of milk. They could not hear the words, but it was obvious the Vulcan protested the idea of consuming an animal product. They did, however, hear Trip’s exaggerated sigh and saw him roll his eyes.

"Here we go," Travis muttered, fascinated. He always enjoyed listening to the arguments between Commander Tucker and Sub-Commander T’Pol. They fed off each other’s patience and temper, fueling whatever disagreement they needed to survive. Travis was quite convinced of this. It was the perfect symbiotic relationship.

"Hosh, what are they saying?" Travis whispered desperately. Her keen hearing should allow her to hear the good stuff.

Hoshi listened for a moment, then shook her head. "I’m not sure. They’re talking awfully low. All I caught was something about narcissistic cannibalism and pent up frustrations." She shrugged. "I’m not sure what either one has to do with the other or this entire situation for that matter, but you know those two..."

"They just need something to argue about," grumbled Malcolm. "They’re not happy unless they’re fighting." He glared at the table in the corner.

"Well *I* think it’s kind of fun to watch," Hoshi smiled. She elbowed Malcolm good-naturedly and turned her attention back to the mismatched pair in the corner.

"Yes, well, Trip’s a good actor," Malcolm replied, finishing his meal. "They both are." He pushed his plate aside and slumped in his chair.

Travis and Hoshi both looked at him with shocked expressions. "Please, Lieutenant, go on..." prodded Travis.

"Yes, do tell what leads you to this conclusion," Hoshi grinned.

Realizing his mistake, Malcolm sighed with resignation. "Alright, but you must swear this goes no further, understood?"

Travis and Hoshi nodded enthusiastically and waited. They were like two eager children gathered around the school teacher at story time. I’m not really betraying any confidences except my own Malcolm justified to himself.

"Alright," he began, "when Commander Tucker and I were on that shuttle pod, things got a bit...revealing. Mostly for me, since I thought we were dead anyway. We got pissed from a bottle of bourbon. Gods only know why, but I brought up T’Pol." Malcolm rested his elbows on the table and massaged his temples. He couldn’t believe he was admitting this to them.

"Please keep in mind we were...not sober. I asked Mr. Tucker if he thought T’Pol had a nice bum," Malcolm continued, completely embarrassed now. The two ensigns were listening intently, leaning forward and grinning. He glanced at the other table and felt his stomach knot with jealousy.

"He did an excellent job of not answering that question, going on about how she was just a Vulcan and pretending to be disgusted with my observation. I bought it then because I was drunk. But now..." His voice trailed off, leaving Hoshi and Travis to prod him along.

"We did drink to T’Pol’s arse, mind you. I just thought he was humoring me," Malcolm finished with a shrug. He looked out the window at the passing stars.

"Maybe he was, at the time," Hoshi offered quietly. Malcolm’s gaze drifted back to her, questioning with his eyes. "Maybe you planted the seed for him. He’d probably never thought of T’Pol in *that* way until you said it. I’m sure it was innocent enough, Malcolm." She reached over and patted his hand.

They all turned their attention back to the corner just in time to witness Trip sucking on his index finger, a smoldering gaze locked with T’Pol’s. He had switched from licking the creamy center with his tongue to scraping it off with his finger. T’Pol, trying to keep with her Vulcanness did not emulate this action. She appeared, however, to be leaning towards him, whether she was conscious of it or not they couldn’t tell.

"I can’t believe he’s seducing her with a bloody Oreo!!" Malcolm hissed. Travis and Hoshi whipped their heads around and glared at the tactical officer.

"You’re sounding more and more jealous, Malcolm," Travis noted. He tried to hide a smile. The young ensign’s attention was now torn between the cookie seduction and the envious man sitting next to him. Travis quirked an eyebrow at Malcolm.

"Don’t be silly, Travis," he tried to brush it off. Trip was dunking the cookie in the glass of milk, letting it soak up the liquid. The engineer’s gaze never wavered from T’Pol’s. This time, to the astonishment of Trip and the three voyeurs, she took Trip’s hand and allowed his cookie to touch her lips. Trip’s jaw fell open as he slowly pushed the chocolate treat into her mouth. His finger tips brushed her bottom lip. A visible shiver raced up his spine.

"Did you see that??" Travis exclaimed quietly. He softly clapped his hands and watched as the chief engineer grabbed a napkin and casually swept it into his lap. "Hahaaaaa!" he laughed, folding an arm around Hoshi’s shoulders. She laughed with him, though covered his mouth with her hand to muffle his voice.

It was too late. Trip’s head snapped up and looked over at their table. T’Pol glanced over as well and quickly diverted her eyes. She pushed back from the table, a greenish blush creeping into her cheeks and ears. She was suddenly absorbed in the stars outside.

"Guess the show’s over," murmured Travis.

"Indeed," Malcolm spat, glaring at Trip. He rose from the table and stormed out of the mess hall. He did not look back to see Trip bang his forehead gently on the table.

~ ~ End Chapter One

Chapter Two

They stopped at his door. Their quarters were near each other and it was logical that they walk together from the mess hall. T’Pol was growing more accustomed to Commander Tucker’s habit of teaching her new things. Most of it she tolerated. Some of it she found...pleasing. She reluctantly admitted that this evening was one of the latter.

"Wanna come in for a minute?" Trip asked.

"Why?" T’Pol asked point blank. They stood and stared at each other for a moment.

Trip looked away first. "Thought maybe you’d wanna wash the rest of that cookie down with some tea," he suggested, trying to find a focal point.

T’Pol could sense his discomfort. She could even understand it. There was a nagging pull in her abdominal region whenever she looked directly at him.

"I do not think it’s a wise idea for me to stay with you any longer this evening, Commander," T’Pol stated coolly. It was her turn to avert her eyes.

Trip nodded. "Why not?" he asked. He was not one to give up easily. He’d found something on the bulkhead that held his attention. She had to think of a reason to not be in his company anymore tonight.

"I...have a lot meditation to do. More than usual," she said quietly. She stood like a soldier at ease, hands clasped behind her back. She glanced up at him. This time he was looking directly at her. T’Pol fought the urge to look away again.

"C’mon, T’Pol," Trip said softly. He reached out a hand and gently brushed her shoulder. He searched her face. She held his gaze, all the while her resolve grew weaker.

At last she nodded her assent. "One cup of tea, Mr. Tucker. No more."

Trip grinned broadly then, opening the door to his quarters. He stepped aside to let her enter first. "Please, have a seat," he gestured to the small desk. T’Pol wandered over to it, examining his quarters. They were neat, yet there was a certain disorder to it. She noted books on the shelves were more or less tossed up there, in no particular order. His desk was scattered with papers and odds and ends, yet there was a clear work station. Her ruminations were interrupted by the engineer’s banging around in the bathroom, gathering water for the teapot, washing a couple mugs. T’Pol found her attention turned to him again.

"I hafta admit, T’Pol," Trip said shyly, poking his head out from the bathroom. "I kinda had ulterior motives for invitin’ y’in here." He looked briefly down at his shoes and disappeared again.

"I can see y’archin’ that eyebrow," he called from the other room. "I’m sure you’ve thought of the worst possible motive a guy could have. I can assure you, it ain’t that."

T’Pol sighed inwardly with relief. This evening had already far exceeded the boundaries she thought she had set in place for herself when she came on board the Enterprise. "Dare I ask, Commander?" she called back to him.

Trip emerged with two steaming mugs of tea. He set one on the desk next to T’Pol. "I just wanted to ask your opinion on some specs I’ve been workin’ on for Engineering," he replied with a smug grin. He turned her chair so it was facing the monitor on his desk and reached around her to flick it on.

Trying to ignore his close proximity, T’Pol ventured to ask, "What specs? I wasn’t aware you were working on anything new." She leaned forward to get a better look at what was on the screen. Trip leaned forward with her, putting an arm around the back of the chair so he wouldn’t topple over onto her. His free hand extended and pointed a long, lean finger at the monitor.

"Right here’s where I’m havin’ trouble with the refits. Can’t seem to stabilize ‘em enough to continue. Any suggestions?" he spoke quietly into her ear.

T’Pol tried to focus on the specs in front of her. She studied them blindly for a minute, trying to gather her wits. Trip was leaning into her, his mouth next to her ear. She tried to control the gooseflesh that popped up, fortunately under her uniform.

"What are you trying to accomplish here?" T’Pol asked, staring at the monitor.

"I wanna make this thing move faster," Trip said. "We can push it past warp five. Maybe even more."

T’Pol tried not to think of his lips brushing against her earlobe. "What is the fascination humans have with speed?" She felt him shrug against her.

"Dunno...we’re just an impatient race, I s'pose," Trip whispered. Was he nuzzling her? I must leave...quickly, she thought.

"May I have a copy of these to peruse in my free time?" she asked softly, not moving a muscle.

"Sure! That’d be great, T’Pol," Trip replied. "I’ll send ‘em to your quarters." But he didn’t move either.

It was too much for her. T’Pol meant to push away from the desk and exit Commander’s Tucker’s quarters. But she turned her head towards him instead. His face was too close for her to see it without going cross-eyed. She closed her eyes. When his lips touched hers, she noted they were soft, warm and just a little wet.

T’Pol vaguely noticed her control slipping away when her mouth opened, seemingly of its own accord. She felt Trip’s lips part and her tongue poked out cautiously, gliding over his bottom lip. He leaned in closer, his tongue met hers, eager to explore. She felt him shudder, heard him moan. It snapped her back to reality.

T’Pol broke away from the kiss, her eyes wide with horror. Trip was staring back at her, mirroring her expression. She did push away from him and his desk this time, the tea and specs forgotten. Trip stood and backed away, running a hand through his hair.

"Oh no...oh god...um...I should...I should go," he stammered, making a hasty retreat to the door.

"Commander," T’Pol halted him. He looked over at her, his eyes wild, face flushed. Trip’s mouth opened and closed, at a loss for words.

"These are your quarters," T’Pol replied softly and brushed past him out to the corridor. She did not look at him as she left. She heard the door to his quarters hiss shut as she hurried on to the sanctuary of her room, her meditation candles. This was going to be a long night.

~ ~ End Chapter Two

Chapter Three

The chime buzzed at his door. It was almost midnight! Who the hell would be at his door at this hour?

"Come in!" Archer called out. He was just about to crawl into bed, and now turned toward the door, hands on his hips.

The door slid open to reveal a very disheveled Trip Tucker. He took a tentative step inside. He offered a weak smile to the Captain.

"Trip, what the hell happened to you?" Archer asked, concerned.

"Dammit, Jon," Trip spat. He began pacing in the tiny quarters, running a hand through his hair. "Can I talk to you? ‘Bout somethin’ personal?"

"Trip, jeez, you look scared shitless," Archer said. "What happened??"

The chief engineer sighed heavily and wandered to the window. He shrugged and turned back to Captain Archer, confusion marking his features.

"I..me and T’Pol...shit," Trip tried to explain. He began wringing his hands together as Archer looked on expectantly. "Ikissedher." He spoke the words quickly, looking up sheepishly at his friend.

Archer’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "What? You’re kidding, right?"

"Noooo, I’m not. She kissed me back, too," Trip replied, seeming to calm down after his confession.

Jonathan Archer was more than stunned. Knowing the history of his two most senior officers and their perceived disdain for each other’s race, this was unexpected news.

Archer forced a polite smile at him. He felt as confused as Trip looked. "Um...I don’t get it, Trip. I thought you two were..." He motioned in the air with his hands. "...not *that* close?"

"We’re not!" Trip cried. "We weren’t. Hell, I dunno, Jon. It just kinda...happened." He looked expectantly at Archer again.

"Well what do you want me to say?" Archer asked. "I didn’t even know you were interested in a Vulcan!"

"I ain’t innerested in a Vulcan! In T’Pol!" Trip smacked his palm to his forehead in frustration. "I dunno what’s goin’ on! One day we’re arguin’ as usual and that same night we’re kissin’!" He kicked at nothing in particular. "I can’t believe I kissed T’Pol. I can’t believe she kissed me back. This is nuts!"

Archer walked to his desk and pulled out a bottle of scotch. He held it up to Trip. "Wanna shot?"

"Hell yeah," he said, nodding vigorously. Trip stepped over to the desk and took the bottle. He unscrewed the cap and took a large swallow of the bitter alcohol. His face squinched up. "Tha’s good shit."

Archer nodded, took a swig himself and replied, "Yeah...so why don’t you tell me what happened? I’m concerned as your friend, but also as your Captain. This can’t have easy consequences for you two."

Trip plopped himself down on the bed and motioned for the bottle of scotch again. "I just asked her for some help on the engines. Asked her into my quarters for a cup of tea. Showed her the specs on my computer. She was sittin’ at my desk. I was behind her, lookin’ over her shoulder."

He took a swig of scotch. "I guess I was a lil’ too close. She turned her head and bam! We were kissin’."

Archer nodded, still confused. "So it was an accident?"

"More or less," Trip nodded and shrugged.

"Trip," Archer narrowed his eyes at him, "which is it? More or less?"

"Whaddaya mean?"

"Well...was there tongue involved and if so, whose?"

"JON!"

"I’m trying to make a point here. Humor me."

"Both tongues," Trip mumbled.

"So how do you deem this an accident?" Archer asked suspiciously.

Trip took another swig of scotch. "Cuz neither of us set out to do it. Wasn’t premeditated or anything. It just *happened*."

Archer nodded, trying to follow his friend’s logic.

"I hope you’re not implyin’ that I meant to do it," Trip continued, standing up.

"Sit down, Trip. I’m not saying it was intentional," Jon stated, trying to calm him down. "But apparently it was a mutual thing, she kissed you back. With her tongue."

"What the hell is your point?"

"Everything happens for a reason. Maybe you should examine what happened with T’Pol."

"It was just instinct," Trip reasoned. He looked hopefully at Archer.

"Maybe," Jon consented, "but maybe it’s more. All I’m saying is go do a bit of soul searching. Lord knows T’Pol will be meditating about this for months."

"Years, knowin’ her," Trip agreed. "You’re right. I’m an adult. I can handle this. It was just a kiss. It meant nothing. Right?"

"I don’t know. I’m probably not the one you should be talking to about this. Besides, if it was an accident, it won’t happen again, right Trip?" Archer asked.

Trip smiled, got up and headed toward the door. "We’ll be fine, Cap’n."

Archer followed him to the door. "One more thing...how the hell did you manage to get that Vulcan into your quarters in the first place? You said you guys were fighting. Did you drug her?" He grinned broadly.

"No, actually," Trip laughed, "we were walking back from the mess hall after a lesson in human childhood pleasures and...aw, shit! Malcolm!"

Trip pressed the button and the door swished open. "Cap’n, I gotta figger out what I’m gonna tell Malcolm. I’ll talk to you later!" And with that he took off down the corridor.

"What about Malcolm?" Archer called after him. But Trip was already gone. He turned back into his quarters, shaking his head.

"I probably don’t want to know..." Archer muttered and crawled into bed.

~ ~ End Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Trip wasn’t sure what to expect from his talk with Malcolm. He wasn’t exactly looking forward to it. He’d been thinking about this all night. I won’t say anything about the kiss. He don’t need to know that... Trip thought.

He entered the Armory and stood there waiting for Malcolm to stop making so much noise with the drills. The last thing he wanted to do was scare the crap out of him. It gave Trip a chance to do some last minute dialogue in his head.

"Malcolm?" Trip said when the noise reduced.

"What is it, Commander?" Malcolm asked curtly, not turning around.

"Got a minute?"

Malcolm sighed heavily. "I’m rather busy."

"This’ll be quick. I promise," Trip replied.

"I can’t imagine what you have to say would interest me in slightest, Commander."

"Why’re you so hostile to me all of a sudden, Malcolm? I just came down here to talk about last night."

"Regarding what?" Malcolm asked, his back still to Trip.

"You know what."

"I’m afraid I don’t, Mr. Tucker," Malcolm said coolly.

"Cut the crap, Malcolm," Trip responded harshly. "It didn’t dawn on me til last night that you were innerested in her."

Malcolm turned around lifting his face shield, facing his superior officer. He blinked, trying to disguise his bruised ego. "I thought I disclosed that information to you while we were on the shuttle pod. When we thought we were dead."

"I thought you were just makin’ drunken small talk. I didn’t know that was your way of tellin’ me you wanted her."

"What was all that in the mess hall about then? Since you’re not interested or anything," Malcolm asked sarcastically.

Trip rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. "I was just showin’ T’Pol how human kids ate Oreos. It was nothin’."

"It certainly didn’t look like ‘nothin’ to me," Malcolm said nodding. "I saw you gazing at each other."

"I wasn’t gazin’ at her!" Trip cried. "And she sure as hell wasn’t gazin’ back at me."

"Trip, there are at least a dozen people on this ship that will gladly tell you otherwise."

"Shit," he muttered. "I forgot about the audience. Malcolm, I’m sorry."

"Sorry for what, Commander?" Malcolm demanded. "Sorry for moving in on another man’s interest?"

"I don’t believe you!" Trip exclaimed, stepping forward. "Correct me if I’m wrong here, but you *never* made a move! Hell, you barely even talk to her!"

"So you admit it then?" Malcolm asked, pointing an accusatory finger at Trip.

"Admit what?" Trip asked, frustrated. He knocked Malcolm’s finger away.

"You were hitting on her."

"Oh, please!" Trip retorted, looking up to the ceiling. He was going to lose his temper any second now.

The two men stood staring each other down. Malcolm broke first, pulling his face shield back down. He turned around and began drilling again.

T’Pol had been scheduled to help Lieutenant Reed with his phase cannon project for several days. She was uncertain now of how to act around him after the scene in the mess hall the previous night. She’d never had problems working with Lt Reed before. It was logical to assume this time would be no different. Yet there was a nagging uncertainty that she couldn’t shake.

She kept thinking about Malcolm’s reaction the evening prior. T’Pol was confused and did not understand his anger. Was he upset with her or Commander Tucker? Why was he upset to begin with? It wasn’t logical. She would never understand humans, least of all human males.

As she neared the Armory, she heard loud drilling sounds. She walked in, studying the PADD in her hands. T’Pol glanced up as she approached the drilling and stopped short.

There stood Commander Tucker, hands on his hips, glaring at Lieutenant Reed’s back. T’Pol backed up and chose to remain out of sight until the Chief Engineer left. She was not ready to confront him yet. She picked out a spot near some storage containers where she could see them.

Malcolm paused in his drilling. Trip took the opportunity.

"Malcolm, do you honestly think I’d be innerested in a Vulcan? And even more, do you really think T’Pol would be innerested in me?" she heard Commander Tucker ask, exasperated. T’Pol’s brow furrowed in confusion.

Malcolm removed his face shield once again. He looked Trip directly in the eye and replied quite sincerely, "Yes, Commander, I do."

Trip’s mouth fell open. "Wh-what?" He was clearly shocked. I understand how he feels for once T’Pol thought grimly.

"I don’t know what I was thinking...that I had some chance with her anyway," Malcolm sighed. "There aren’t two people in the universe more perfectly matched than you and T’Pol."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means Commander, that you’re both so bloody stubborn and brilliant and attracted to each other and neither one of you knows it. Everyone else can see it but the two of you. Please don’t make me spell this out any further."

T’Pol leaned heavily against the storage containers and closed her eyes. This situation was getting worse with each passing hour.

"You’re serious?" Trip asked incredulously.

"Commander, I think you should leave now. I just need some time to absorb this."

"Boy, you ain’t kiddin’," Trip sighed. "Maybe *I’ll* take up that meditation thing." T’Pol heard footsteps towards her. She stood stock still.

"Malcolm," Trip said cautiously. "Are we gonna be ok?"

There was a pause and a grunt from Lieutenant Reed’s direction. "I can hardly hold something like this against you, Trip. Survival of the fittest, right?" T’Pol could hear the resignation in his voice. Humans were strange creatures indeed.

"Malcolm," Trip pleaded, "don’t do this."

"It’s fine Commander, really. I just need a bit more time to digest."

"Alright, but I...I didn’t mean for anything..." Trip stumbled sheepishly.

"I know," Malcolm reassured him. "Shouldn’t you be tweaking the engines or something?"

"Right." Trip said. T’Pol heard more footsteps and the door swish open as Trip stood there for a moment. "Thanks, Mal," he said and was gone.

T’Pol breathed a silent sigh of relief. Her behavior was illogical. But Commander Tucker had that effect on her, didn’t he? Reed began banging and drilling once more and T’Pol took the noisy opportunity to make her entrance. It would be best if he did not know she’d heard any of their conversation. She stepped out from behind the crates, hands clasped behind her back. She waited for the noise to cease before announcing her presence.

T’Pol cleared her throat and Malcolm whipped around. "Sub-Commander!"

"I didn’t mean to startle you, Lieutenant. I apologize."

"It’s alright...I was just...making noise," he stammered. "I didn’t hear you come in." His face began to turn an interesting shade of rose, his eyes darting around the room.

"Is everything ok, Mr. Reed?" T’Pol asked. She thought it best to stick to the matters at hand and not engage Malcolm in a discussion about what had just occurred.

Malcolm nodded and turned back to his project. "Yes, fine, thank you." He just stood there. "How long have you been standing there, Sub-Commander?"

T’Pol cocked her head slightly. "Not long. You were drilling when I walked in. I chose to wait until the noise ceased." It wasn’t entirely the truth, but enough so that T’Pol was satisfied.

The security officer seemed to accept this with no further questions and they began their work on the cannons. She would deal with this situation at another time.

Chapter Five

Note: Just a quick thank you to everyone that’s been reading this story (and enjoying it)! It’s been lots of fun writing it. I really need to toss out a big GRACIAS to my friend and beta reader Joe for the email volley of idears. He’s been a huge help with this! More notes at the end.

Chapter 5

T’Pol was the last person Hoshi expected to see at her door. The Vulcan rarely made house calls, least of all unexpected ones.

"Sub-Commander," Hoshi greeted her with a nervous smile.

"Ensign Sato, I am sorry to disturb you," T’Pol said with a nod. "I wish to ask you something."

"Oh," Hoshi replied and blinked. "Okay. Please come in." She was more than confused and just a little scared. Hoshi knew T’Pol wasn’t her biggest fan by any means. She quickly cleared a place for her guest to sit.

T’Pol sat rigid in the provided chair, looking around the room. Hoshi sat across from her on the bed waiting expectantly.

"So," Hoshi finally said nervously. "Something I can help you with, Sub- Commander?" The young ensign tried to hide her surprise at her visitor and simply sat and smiled.

"I wish to receive input from you regarding human males," T’Pol stated bluntly. She looked Hoshi directly in the eye. The human stared back.

"You want my advice on men??" Hoshi asked incredulously. T'Pol only cocked her head slightly to the side and waited.

"Um...could you perhaps be a bit more specific?" Hoshi continued. "What is it you want to know? Maybe you should talk to one of them if it’s about guy stuff or—‘’

"It is not sexual in nature," T’Pol interrupted, anticipating where Hoshi was going. "I merely wish to understand their minds."

"Good luck!" Hoshi laughed. At the Vulcan’s look of confusion, she continued, "Women have been trying to figure men out for millennia. And vice versa I suppose. It’s one of the greatest mysteries in the universe, T’Pol."

T’Pol’s brow furrowed as she gave this thought.

"Is there a less general thing I can help with?" Hoshi asked again.

"Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed are behaving strangely," T’Pol flatly. "Even for humans."

"You’re referring to the other night in the mess hall?" Hoshi asked. It all clicked into place for her now. "Sub-Commander, do you realize what took place in the mess hall?" she asked after a moment. T’Pol cocked her head again and Hoshi forged on. "You and Commander Tucker were getting awfully...well, *intimate* with those cookies."

"Commander Tucker was just showing me a human childhood ritual," T’Pol said icily.

"Maybe so, but the way he was showing you was very...unusual," Hoshi tried to explain delicately. "I was sitting at the next table. It was like you two were the only ones in the room...completely absorbed in each other. I’ve seen that look before, T’Pol. Everyone can see it."

"What look is that, Ensign?" T’Pol asked curtly.

"Lust."

"Vulcans do not experience lust."

"Ok," Hoshi nodded, trying not to roll her eyes. She wasn’t sure where this conversation was going or what good it was doing T’Pol. "What exactly is bothering you? I don’t know really what to say, other than what I saw."

T’Pol looked around the room for a moment, slightly uncomfortable. She let out a barely perceptible sigh. "Lieutenant Reed seemed perturbed."

"Oh right! Malcolm!" Hoshi exclaimed. "He was a bit...envious."

"There is no reason for him to be."

"Maybe...maybe not," Hoshi said. "But Malcolm isn’t exactly the outgoing kind of guy that Trip is. Maybe he wants to get to know you better, but you’re always with Trip. Malcolm won’t say anything. He’s too shy. And reserved. And British."

"I do not spend an inordinate amount of time with Commander Tucker. As senior officers to Captain Archer, our work forces us together. Perhaps that is what Malcolm is perceiving," T’Pol reasoned. "We occasionally exchange cultural lessons, as we did last night."

"T’Pol, can I be candid here?" Hoshi asked.

The Vulcan met her eyes and gave a slight nod of assent after a moment. "Of course, Hoshi."

"Are you always this defensive?"

There was a full minute of silence before T’Pol looked at Hoshi. "I am...confused. I don’t understand why Mr. Reed acted as he did. Nor why he is upset with Commander Tucker."

"Malcolm’s mad at Trip?" Hoshi asked, her eyes widening. "This is worse than I thought. May I ask how you know that?" She watched on in amazement as the science officer began to squirm ever so slightly in her seat.

"I was unwittingly privy to part of a conversation they had in the Armory this morning," T’Pol replied.

"You were eavesdropping?" Hoshi said with a laugh. "Well what did they say?"

T’Pol’s eyes narrowed as she eyed the human before her. "Why do you require details of this situation?"

"T’Pol," Hoshi sighed. "I hope you’re not in a hurry because there’s something I want to explain to you." She sat back and got comfortable and began talking.

Several hours later, as T’Pol sat in front of her meditation candles, she thought of the emotional geometric quandary Hoshi had described. She had not found it necessary to let on to either Lieutenant Reed or Ensign Sato about the kiss shared between her and Commander Tucker. It made this situation far more difficult. T’Pol felt that knot in her stomach again when she thought of him.

"Intriguing," she murmured. The more she thought of Commander Tucker, the less she wanted to deal with this. It was illogical. Vulcans did not feel this way about humans, least of all one who was so emotional and boisterous and explosive and intelligent and handsome.

Handsome? T’Pol thought. Dismayed with the path of her thoughts, she lit more candles, in the hopes that his image would leave her.

T’Pol sat mulling over this predicament. She concluded that Lieutenant Reed was perhaps no longer a point in this triangle. He’d seemed quite comfortable working with her that afternoon, after the initial greeting. He’d relaxed considerably as their work progressed. She was no longer unsettled with the security officer.

Her thoughts drifted back to the chief engineer, how soft his lips were, how she felt having him close. The memory of his breath on her skin imbedded itself in her brain. These gratuitous thoughts would be the death of her.

T’Pol sighed heavily and blew out her candles. This meditation session was not helping. The best thing she could do at this point was to try and forget anything unprofessional had happened. Logic had escaped her and left in its place something far more carnal.

More notes: Joe and I had a hell of a time with this chapter. Rewrite after rewrite we finally decided to just leave it at this. We’re not 100% satisfied with this one, and only hope the next chapter(s) is/are better. So if everyone agrees, we’ll just leave it as This Isn’t The Best Chapter, But Its Important Nonetheless. K? That’s what I thought (

Chapter Six

The doors swished open to reveal Sub-Commander T’Pol standing with her hands clasped behind her back, as was her usual ‘at ease’ stance.

"Morning, T’Pol," Archer greeted with a smile. He stepped in and turned around, pressing the button for Engineering. "Hope you don’t mind a quick stop downstairs before heading up to the bridge?"

"Hold that lift!" they heard a very distinct voice calling from the corridor. Archer shoved an arm out to hold the doors open. Commander Tucker’s face appeared in front of the doors. "Thanks, Cap’n" he panted. He glanced at T’Pol standing next to Archer.

"Uh, maybe I should take another one," Trip said quietly. He was staring intently at the Vulcan. She was looking at her boots.

"Don’t be silly, Trip," Archer said. "We’re going to Engineering anyway." He smiled broadly, completely aware of the building tension in the small compartment.

Trip sighed and slid into the lift. He stood on Archer’s right and T’Pol was to the captain’s left. If Archer didn’t know the situation already, he would have thought one of them was contagious. He rolled his eyes and assumed they’ve not spoken since that kiss.

"You may both be pleased to know our sensors picked up a class M late last night. We’ll be there in a few hours," Archer replied.

"That’s great, Cap’n," Trip mumbled, while T’Pol merely nodded.

"I want you both to pack an overnight bag," Archer continued. "You’re going on the away mission."

Both his officers snapped their heads to him, a look of horror crossing both their features.

"Cap’n!" Trip cried.

"Sir, you cannot be serious," T’Pol replied.

"I’m very serious. It’ll be good. It’s a tropical climate. Lots of beaches. I wish *I* could go, but you know...duty calls," the captain said.

"Sir, I’ve got engines to work on," Trip said, looking straight ahead.

"Trip, this isn’t a desert. I didn’t think I’d have to convince you on this one. And we haven’t had a ‘situation’ with the engines for some time. I think your crew will do fine for a couple days without you."

"Fine," the engineer said through gritted teeth. "Can you at least find me someone else to go with?"

"I agree with Commander Tucker," T’Pol finally said. "I cannot imagine my usefulness on this mission."

Archer turned to her, hands on his hips. "T’Pol, you’re the science officer! You’re the best choice for this mission. And please no more protests. My decision is made. You two should have a lot to talk about, right? Compare cultural notes or something. Or better yet, do some research."

"Guess I’ll go warm up the shuttle," Trip sighed.

"Actually," Archer replied, "that won’t be necessary."

"Sir?"

"I’ll just have Travis drop you off. We’ll come back in a couple days. I don’t want to risk either one of you ditching the other down there."

The lift doors opened and Archer stepped out. He turned around to face his two stunned officers.

"Be ready in three hours, commanders," Archer said with a smile and walked away.

"Shoulda kept my big mouth shut," Trip muttered as he stomped into the launch bay, his travel bag slung over his shoulder. He knew damn well the captain was sending him down with T’Pol so they could do some ‘soul searching’ about that night. He was being set up.

"Commander Tucker!" Travis Mayweather called to him. "We’re just about ready. Climb on board!"

Trip narrowed his eyes at the jovial ensign. "I’m comin’," he grumbled.

He threw his bag into the shuttle and climbed in after it. T’Pol was already buckled in the co-pilot seat. Trip slumped down into an aft seat.

"You’re late, Commander," T’Pol noted coolly.

Trip stopped buckling himself in and glared at the back of her head. "I ain’t exactly lookin’ forward to this. ‘Specially if you’re gonna ignore me like y’have been the last two days."

The Vulcan spun her seat around to face him. "I have not been intentionally ignoring you," she scowled.

"Yeah right," Trip snorted.

"I have been avoiding you," T’Pol corrected him, and spun back around. Trip rolled his eyes and shook his head.

Travis poked his head in then. "You guys all set?"

Receiving muted grunts, he assumed that was affirmative and climbed into the shuttle. Travis settled himself in the pilot chair and fired up the engines. "You guys are lucky, you know," he said, "going down to a tropical planet for two days. I know just the place to drop you, too. Gorgeous beach with enough trees and vegetation fit for even the most unimpressionable." The shuttle took off smoothly and left the launch bay of Enterprise.

"I’m sure *I’ll* love it, Travis," Trip replied. "Let’s just get this over with, k?"

"Commander, Sub-Commander?" Travis asked, "will you do me a favor?"

T’Pol cocked her head at him. "What is it, Ensign?"

"Watch a sunset for me...maybe take a picture or two. That is, if you brought your camera, Commander," Travis said. "I have a thing for sunsets, being that I don’t really get to see them that often. Was always a treat for me, getting to see one in person."

"Sure, Travis, I’ll getcha some pictures," Trip agreed. His mood was improving with the prospect of getting to shoot something. he thought.

"I checked the weather, too, and it seems like you’ll be in for some nice stuff," Travis said excitedly. They were nearing the landing site. "Clear skies, breezy, about 30 degrees during the day, 18 at night. Beautiful."

"At least we’ll have that going for us," T’Pol said.

After what seemed like an eternity to Trip, Travis finally brought the shuttle down about forty meters from crystal blue water, spanning out as far as the eye could see.

"Here we go," Travis beamed. "I saved the best spot for you guys."

Trip snapped his head up from gathering his things. "Whaddaya mean, Ensign? I thought T’Pol and I were the only ones comin’ down here."

"No, there’s another team going to the northern continent," Travis explained. "Captain Archer said to find you guys a nice ‘tranquil’ spot to drop you. This is out and out paradise if you ask me."

"It seems the captain has been duplicitous," T’Pol stated.

"No kiddin’," Trip agreed. "Well Travis, pop the hatch. I wanna get a look around this beach before my ‘research’ begins."

The young ensign did as ordered and watched as his two senior officers shoved themselves onto the white sand beneath them. Travis got up and poked his head out.

"The captain also requested that if you guys are carrying any weapons that you leave them on board. He said he didn’t want you killing each other. Oh, and he wanted me to ask you if he should have Doctor Phlox standing by."

Trip and T’Pol stared at Travis in disbelief.

"You’re serious?" Trip asked, shaking his head.

"That won’t be necessary, Ensign Mayweather," T’Pol replied. "You may tell the captain we will not require such measures. However, at least one phase pistol for protection against any native wildlife would be appreciated."

"Sure thing," Travis said and tossed one out. Trip caught it and shoved it in his bag.

"Tell Cap’n we’ll be fine," the engineer snarled and hauled his bag up to the knot of trees that lined the beach. T’Pol gave a slight nod to Travis and followed the Commander.

Chapter Seven

Notes: I’m going to throw in co-author credits to Joe. He’s helping me out tremendously with this story. It’s only fair not to take all the credit or blame for this. And for a story with no plot, it’s sure going on a long time, huh??

Chapter 7

Trip threw his bag under a palm-like tree and sank down against the trunk. He watched in irritated silence as T’Pol strolled towards him, squinting in the bright sunlight. She chose a tree several meters away from him and placed her pack under it. She stood in the shade of the wide fronds, surveying the small grove they would settle in.

"These next two days’ll go by a lot quicker if we clear the air now, T’Pol," Trip said to her back.

She turned to face him. "I am inclined to agree with you, Commander," T’Pol said, taking a few steps towards him. He rose and closed the gap between them.

"Since I don’t want you ‘avoiding’ me for two more days, I’ll start," Trip said with a sigh. "I didn’t mean to kiss you. It just...kinda...happened. I guess cuz we were so close. Too close." He dared not look at her. He was afraid at what he might see in her eyes.

"Our physical proximity seems to be the cause of this situation," T’Pol agreed, nodding slightly. She found the waves crashing on the beach far more enticing than looking at him.

"I don’t really know what else to say, T’Pol," Trip admitted. "It’s weird."

"It is," she said, nodding. "I have tried meditating on this and can’t seem to dispel what happened. I keep...dwelling on it."

"Me too," he replied. After a short pause he said, "I thought about apologizin’ to you, but I don’t think I can do that."

T’Pol looked at him then, not bothering to hide her confusion. He was looking at the sand anyway.

"I won’t say I’m sorry cuz I’m not. I’m *not* sorry I kissed you," Trip continued, stealing a glance at her. "It was nice, T’Pol. It floored me and I’ve been walkin’ around in a daze ever since."

"You certainly have a way of scaring off logic, Commander," T’Pol said quietly. "I cannot seem to let it rest either."

"Was it...ok? For you, I mean?" Trip asked hesitantly.

"It was..." T’Pol stopped herself and took a deep breath. The only way this was going to go away was to talk it through. She’d learned that much in the last year on board the human vessel. "It was not unpleasant."

If Commander Tucker was at all surprised by T’Pol’s admission, he did not let on. He merely nodded.

The two stood next to each other in uncomfortable silence for several minutes, looking out over the water.

"You told the Captain." It was a statement void of any accusation.

"Yeah," Trip nodded. "I went to Jon, my best friend. Like I said, I was a bit rattled, to say the least."

"Indeed. You *did* kiss a Vulcan."

"And she kissed me back."

"It would probably be wise to not allow it to happen again."

"Agreed! I don’t think I can go through this ordeal again," Trip said. "It’s too much...even for an emotionally driven clown like me."

They turned to each other then, and Trip extended his hand. T’Pol looked at it and back up at Trip’s face. She cocked her head slightly and shook his hand, sealing their deal.

"So we’re good then?" he asked.

"I believe we’ll be fine," T’Pol agreed.

Trip sighed dramatically his relief. He looked at her and smiled. "Great! Then I’m goin’ swimmin’," he announced and unzipped his jumpsuit.

"Commander?" she queried as he peeled off his uniform.

"Lookit the water! It’s gorgeous out here and I ain’t lettin’ this go to waste," he replied, yanking off the one-piece to reveal bright orange shorts underneath. Trip stood proudly in his swim trunks, a broad grin plastered across his face. T’Pol narrowed her eyes at him.

"We’re supposed to be doing research," she said, turning to retrieve her scanner from her pack.

"Aw, Cap’n didn’t send us down here to work an’ you know it," Trip argued. "Why don’tcha take a load off for once? Come swimmin’ with me."

"Vulcans don’t swim."

"Of course they don’t," he said with a slight roll of his eyes. "Just walk in a ways then. It’s called ‘wading.’ I won’t letcha drown. I promise."

T’Pol looked up then, studying him to verify the truth in his statement. It was tempting. Again she found logic and control slipping from her in his presence.

"I did not bring any swimming attire," she tried one last tactic.

"So we’ll go naked," Trip teased, not missing a beat. He tried not to smile as he watched a slightly mortified look pass across her features.

"I presume my undergarments will suffice?"

"That’ll work," Trip laughed. "See ya down there!" And with that he took off jogging towards the water, leaving the Vulcan to disrobe in privacy.

Trip had busied himself with getting accustomed to the water and waves, riding them like he used to as a kid. They were different here, faster and fuller. He didn’t notice T’Pol meander up the shoreline, taking scans while inching her way into the water. He didn’t get to watch as she squatted in the surf, looking for shells and other marine life. And he didn’t see the wave that caught the desert native off guard, crashing into her and knocking her over, sweeping her out a few meters.

He did, however, glance up in time to see her standing up, waist deep, looking like a mad wet hen. The bubble of laughter that threatened to burst from his throat melted away when he saw how the sun glinted off her, reflecting in the water drops that rolled down her olive skin. Humor dried up completely as he noted her soaked tank top clinging to her body, riding up to reveal her midriff. He remembered that day in the decon chamber, oh so long ago now. He’d touched that flesh once, and now thought of running his hands over it again.

Trip felt the blood rush south and quickly did an about-face before T’Pol noticed him watching her. He stood there with his back to her, waves breaking against him. He concentrated on keeping his balance. He thought about impulse engines and warp nacelles, football and water polo, puppies and kittens. Anything but how her nipples stood out under the wet clothing, how the sun accentuated her coloring, how tantalizing she was right this moment.

"Ohpleaseohpleaseohpleasedon’tgetaboner," Trip whispered to himself, forcing his thoughts away from T’Pol. He was already breaking their deal with impure thoughts of the science officer and was thankful the water was cold enough to keep things in check for a bit. This could turn out to be a very long two days.

Chapter Eight

Notes: My apologies for taking so long between chapters. Was in San Diego for Memorial Day weekend and didn’t get any writing done. But I thought about it a lot! Hope you all are still enjoying this long, drawn-out work. Joe and I are still having fun writing it!

*****************************

"This is ridiculous," T’Pol muttered, trudging through the water back toward the beach. What had she been thinking? Vulcans do not swim, Vulcans do not wade, and Vulcans certainly do not enjoy being swept out to sea.

She sank to her knees when she reached dry beach. She would just lie down and let the sun dry her off. Her scanner would need to dry out as well before she could continue. T’Pol stretched out on the warm sand, a slight breeze sending a chill across her wet skin. She closed her eyes and tried to relax. It was then she noticed how peaceful it was. She opened one eye, wondering why Commander Tucker was not whooping and hollering as he had been only five minutes ago.

T’Pol looked out to the surf and saw her companion just standing there. His back was to her. He was looking down and seemed to be talking to his waist. She could not hear what he was saying. She was quite certain she would never understand this man. He was an enigma in his own peculiarly human way.

Commander Tucker peeked over his shoulder a moment later. T’Pol was certain he would think she was sleeping. She watched with one eye as he waded back further into the ocean and caught a wave to shore. He rode it on his stomach, his arms flailing in what she surmised was a swimming motion. He tumbled into the surf and bounced up quickly to his feet.

As he ambled towards her, T’Pol was illogically reluctant to close her eye entirely. She watched as he shook water from his hair, following the little rivulets as they slid down his golden chest and chiseled stomach. His orange shorts clung to his wet skin, accenting what she’d only seen once that day in the decontamination chamber. She hadn’t paid much attention then but now allowed herself to study his form. An unfamiliar fluttering in her stomach began as he drew near. She stopped watching, both eyes closed completely now.

"Hey," Trip said softly, bending over the lounging Vulcan. "You sleepin’?"

"You’re blocking the sun, Commander," T’Pol said evenly, not opening her eyes. "I left the water for a reason. Could you drip somewhere else?"

"I could," Trip replied settling down next to her, "but it wouldn’t be as much fun." He reached over and gently brushed the offending drops from her flat abdomen. He felt a slight tremble and paused, his fingertips resting there for a moment before withdrawing his hand.

T’Pol felt him recline and situate himself in the sand next to her. She cursed her muscles for flinching at his touch. Could she not control herself anymore around this man? T’Pol made a mental list of her offenses in the last two days, beginning with eating a cookie from *his* hands. She had allowed his fingers to touch her lips. She had allowed herself to be talked into a cup of tea in his quarters. She had allowed him to be near her physically. She had allowed him to kiss her, and worse, she kissed him back. Now here on this beach she had been thinking of him in a less than professional manner, watching as he emerged from the water. Her fingers absently danced across her skin where his hand had just been.

"T’Pol?"

"Commander?"

"I was thinkin’...have been since that kiss...that maybe you can teach me some of that meditation stuff," Trip stated nervously. He had propped himself up on one elbow and was drawing geometric designs absently in the sand.

"Why do you wish to learn meditation techniques?" T’Pol returned, not sure if he was serious or not. She rolled onto her side, facing him.

"Because I can’t stop thinkin’ about...It. I’m serious, T’Pol. I even told Malcolm I should take it up," he said, glancing at her face. "You don’t seem to be havin’ any problems with It."

"On the contrary," T’Pol said after a moment of debating whether to tell him the truth. "I have been thinking about ‘It’ as well. Though I have had years of practice controlling my emotions, this situation is far more difficult than any other to date. I will guide you in relaxation methods first and perhaps you can work your way to full meditation."

"I’m willin’ to try anything right about now," Trip confessed. "This ain’t natural...me an’ you...kissin’ an’ all." He shook his head and watched as she sat up and crossed her legs. He followed her example and they faced each other, knees to knees.

The Vulcan took his hand and with her fingers gently pressed into his palm and around the knuckle of his thumb. T’Pol closed her eyes. Trip allowed this moment to study her face and then closed his eyes as well.

"You must think of something that calms you," T’Pol instructed. She softly stroked his palm. Trip sighed heavily. "A place you enjoy, a time in your life that was happy, a pet...focus on one of these."

"I got it, somethin’ that calms me," he mumbled. His head lolled back.

"Excellent," T’Pol said. Her fingertips located the pulse in his wrist. "Commander, your heart is racing. I thought you said you found something calming."

Trip’s head straightened on his shoulders and he opened his eyes. T’Pol was looking at him with a most curious expression on her face.

"That’s why you’re teachin’ me to relax, right?" he asked. "To control my emotions...’specially around you. Besides, this right now is very calmin’."

T’Pol narrowed her eyes and conceded with a nod, moving on with the lesson.

The sun was sinking lower, growing more golden with each passing minute by the time either commander realized they’d been meditating all afternoon. The breeze off the ocean had picked up and the water’s edge crept closer.

"I think we’re a bit under dressed for nightfall," T’Pol stated, shivering with the last gust. She rose to her feet. "You have done well, Commander. I can only hope you continue with your progress."

Trip said nothing but smiled broadly at her, slowly getting to his feet. He noted the tide was rising and was a mere four or five meters from them. He brushed the sand from his shorts and turned towards their cluster of trees.

"I gotta get some clothes on and take some pictures for Travis," he stated. "Not to mention I’m starvin’. Could eat a horse right about now."

At the mention of consuming a large earth beast, T’Pol wrinkled her nose and threw Trip a disgusted look. He barked out a hearty laugh, placed a hand at the small of her back and they headed off to their makeshift campsite.

Chapter Nine

After changing into light cotton pants and a bright, multicolored shirt Trip grabbed his camera and some dry rations and headed back towards the beach. He was looking forward to shooting this as much as Travis was looking forward to seeing the pictures. Trip was a sucker for a pretty sunset.

He meandered his way across the sand, still warm from the afternoon and dug a divot with his bare feet to sit in. The sun was sinking lower, an orange ball hanging just above the horizon. It painted the sky a brilliant array of reds, yellows, and pinks. Trip forgot about eating as he snapped photo after photo for Travis. He turned to look for T’Pol, wondering if she’d appreciate this as much as they did.

She was leaning against a tree, chewing something and looking lost in thought. T’Pol had changed into something that looked a lot to Trip like a very lightweight, airy, maroon karate uniform. He aimed his camera at her, zoomed in and snapped the picture. The sun’s sinking rays bathed her in a crimsony-orange wash. He sat and watched her for a moment. She appeared to be almost glowing.

T’Pol seemed to suddenly snap out of whatever reverie she was in, turned her head and looked directly at Trip. He quickly turned back to the sunset, embarrassed at being caught looking. He brought his camera back up to his eye and resumed shooting. The sky was changing colors again, the sun now halfway swallowed by the ocean. The engineer hadn’t been this relaxed in ages. Trip idly wondered if it was due to the new Vulcan techniques he learned that day or just being in paradise. Regardless of the cause, he loved it.

So engrossed he was in his own thoughts, Trip didn’t hear T’Pol approach. Not until she accidentally kicked sand into his lap as she sat next to him did he look over at her. He smiled broadly.

"Gorgeous, ain’t it?" he asked with a sweep of his arm. He was beaming.

"It is," she replied nodding. T’Pol gazed out to the water, wrapping her arms around her knees.

"Sunsets are like snowflakes," said Trip quietly, "no two are ever the same." He looked at her for affirmation. When she didn’t respond, he leaned into her, nudging her with his shoulder. "Y’alright, T’Pol?"

The Vulcan glanced at him, seemingly startled. "Yes," she whispered. "I was just thinking. I apologize."

"You don’t need t’apologize for thinkin’. Believe it or not, I do it all the time," Trip said with a smile. "Think, I mean. Though I guess I do my share of apologizin’ too."

T’Pol gave him a nod, a smile not quite touching her lips. "It will be cooling off soon. Perhaps we should start a fire."

"Great," Trip sighed and leaned back in the sand, placing his hands behind his head. "You go get the firewood an’ I’ll wait here." He looked up at her and offered the most charming smile he could manage.

The Vulcan stood up and towered over him. She held out her hand and replied, "Perhaps you should accompany me. There may be native beasts unfamiliar with Vulcans. Your stench could keep it at bay." T’Pol cocked her head and waited. It didn’t take long.

"Are we back to that again?" Trip asked dramatically. He grasped her hand and she yanked him to his feet. He held on fast, pulling her close. "Thought you didn’t mind it so much anymore," he whispered into her ear.

"I didn’t say I did," she replied, arching an eyebrow at him. "I said the native wildlife might."

"My mistake," he said graciously. Trip still had her hand and tugged her back towards the trees in search of combustible materials.

A small circle of rocks bordered a brightly burning fire. Much arguing had occurred over what type of wood would burn the best, what was too dry or too damp, followed by even more arguing about how to set the phase pistol to spark a flame. Nearly an hour later the Vulcan and the human sat quietly side by side, each lost in thought staring into the fire.

Her gaze drifted from the blaze before her to the man next to her. T’Pol watched as light and shadow played tag across his features. She admired the way his eyes glowed bright in the firelight, a soft smile twitched at his lips as he thought of something pleasant. He sucked in his bottom lip, chewing it for a moment. She noted the angle of his jaw, the line of his neck, idly wondering what her lips would feel like on them.

T’Pol looked quickly back to the fire, alarmed yet again by where her thoughts were taking her. As the flames danced and flickered, it triggered a vivid memory of a night spent in a jazz club. She’d tried in vain to let go of this, but it was to remain a part of her. She even thought about what it would be like to lose oneself in the beat, let the music wash through her.

"Penny for your thoughts," came a gentle voice to her left. It startled her as she jumped a bit. Trip reached a hand out and placed in on her forearm. T’Pol looked at him, his eyes warm and brilliant.

"I was just thinking," she said quietly.

"I can see that," replied Trip with a smile. "That’s twice now you’ve had the gall to think." He tossed her a wink to show he was kidding.

"I was thinking about..." T’Pol began, and bowed her head. "Dancing."

Trip leaned into her to try and see her eyes. "Dancin’?" He let out a low, quiet whistle. Clearly this was news to him.

"Something you don’t know, Commander, is that I have taken a liking to Earth music," T’Pol tried to explain. "Jazz in particular. I made a late night visit to a jazz club in San Francisco once. It has...remained with me."

Trip was openly gaping now, his mouth hung open. She reached up to his chin and closed it.

"You ever danced, T’Pol?"

She shook her head. It looked to him like a sad gesture. Trip stared for a moment and then got to his feet.

"Would you like to dance with me?" he asked gallantly, holding his hand out to her.

"There is no music here," T’Pol stated, looking up at him with confusion.

"Don’t need any," he said simply. "I can’t teach ya the fun stuff, but I can teach y’a little somethin’."

She took his hand and he pulled her to her feet.

"We’re just gonna hafta slow dance this one t’night," Trip said softly. "We can do that without any music." He placed her left hand on his shoulder and grasped her right one in his. His left hand rested at her waist.

"Just gotta move your hips around a little, maybe shuffle your feet some," he instructed. "Can you feel what my hips are doin’? See how there ain’t much goin’ on? Just sway them around a bit."

T’Pol felt his hips against hers, moving in a circular motion. She tried not to think of the rest of him pressed against her. It was a very intimate method of dancing. She had not expected this. She tried to mimic him with her own body. It was very easy.

"What is the purpose of this? We are hardly moving," T’Pol finally spoke up.

"Guess that’s kinda the point, T’Pol. Slow dancin’ is...well, slow."

"But why?"

"I dunno," Trip sighed. He grasped her hands and placed them around his neck. His own hands casually swept up her arms, over her shoulders and down her ribcage. His fingers ever so slightly grazed the sides of her breasts as came to rest on her hips. Trip looked into her face. "Because sometimes it feels good to have someone to hold onto for a few minutes."

He tugged her closer and bent his head to hers, wrapping his arms around her. They swayed together in the gentle night breeze, neither of them saying another word.

Chapter 10

The human and Vulcan had decided to turn in early, each claiming how tired they were from a day in the sun. Each knew it was really to reduce the temptation of doing more than just dancing.

They had dragged their belongings to the fire, rolling out sleeping bags. Neither said a word until the good-nights were issued. Trip lay awake just watching T’Pol. She’d tossed and turned for a while as well. In a way, he was glad...glad that he wasn’t the only one who was having a problem with this. Finally, his eyelids drooped and he drifted off.

Trip woke with a start, the fourth time in as many hours. If he wasn’t tossing and turning in his sleeping bag, then he was having fitful dreams. This wasn’t working. He had to tell her. It was the only way he’d get a decent night’s sleep.

Looking through the flames of the still burning fire, Trip tried to find the words he would say. It was then he noticed a pair of eyes gazing back at him. She was awake too. he thought. He wrestled his way out of his twisted sleeping bag and crawled over to T’Pol.

"Hey," Trip greeted her softly. He sat next to her reclined figure, wrenching his hands together in his lap.

"How long have you been awake, Commander?" asked T’Pol. She watched his busy hands, then looked to his face. He glanced down at her and swallowed nervously.

"Off an’ on," he replied. "I need to talk you."

T’Pol arched a brow at him. "So I gathered." She sat up and Trip couldn’t help but notice she was back in just her tank top. He exhaled a breath he wasn’t quite aware he’d been holding. He braced himself for what he was about to say.

"This ain’t workin’," he said bluntly. "This whole denial thing...I don’t think I can do it." Trip chanced a look and found her nodding in agreement.

"Perhaps denial was not the ideal solution," said T’Pol quietly.

"Maybe we should try bein’ honest," Trip suggested. "Hell, I’ll even go first." He took a deep breath. "Ever since Malcolm mentioned you in a non- Vulcan manner I haven’t been able to stop thinkin’ about that...about you. Our ‘cultural exchange’ thing we’ve been doin’ has become the highlight of my life out here. I kept trying to convince myself otherwise but dammit, it’s a losing battle. I already told you that I didn’t mean to kiss you, not that I was sorry. I meant that. But I’d be lyin’ if I told you it shouldn’t happen again or that I didn’t *want* it to happen again...and more often."

He’d gone out on a limb here. Was he wrong? What did he do? Her actions, or lack thereof, were far more telling than any words she’d spoken, or not spoken. T’Pol had bowed her head.

"Talk to me, T’Pol," pleaded Trip, softly whispering. "Tell me you don’t feel the same an’ I’ll go back to bed and tomorrow, well, it can be like every other day," he dared her. He was suddenly terrified that he had ruined everything.

"I-I can not do that," T’Pol finally managed in a shaky voice. "Vulcans are an honest people, Commander. Usually I do not have any trouble with honesty, but this situation requires emotions I have not even begun to deal with. What I have to say, what I have been thinking about is not logical in the least. Then again, the last few days have been anything but logical."

She paused for an excruciating minute, gathering her thoughts. Trip dared not speak, not trusting his own voice. T’Pol looked at him this time.

"I do feel the same. I have for quite some time," she continued, her words flowing stronger now. "I was reluctant to admit it, telling myself every night over meditations that our friendship was being built on some sort of cultural exchange. I looked forward to these exchanges as well, and simply liked to spend time with you. It was...is pleasant. I found you to be refreshing...a form of chaos in my controlled and rigid world of logic and reason. The more time I spent with you, the more I realized there was...is a connection between us, something neither one of us was prepared for. I had wondered if you had felt it too, and you have now made it perfectly clear to me that you do."

Trip was mesmerized. T’Pol had spoken these words in a seemingly nervous rush, but kept eye contact with him. The flames of the fire a glowing reflection in their depths never wavered from his.

"I think it would be unhealthy for us to deny this as well," said T’Pol quietly. "Perhaps it is time for us to explore a relationship. We have a lot to learn about each other...as a species and as individuals."

The human sat in stunned silence, gazing into the fire. Her words were sinking in. Trip wasn't exactly sure what he was expecting, but clearly it wasn't this. His terror melted away. He'd never felt this way about anyone, not even Natalie. This was huge. T'Pol was a Vulcan. Vulcans don't feel. Or do they?

"Commander Tucker?" T'Pol said gently. "Charles…Trip?"

His head snapped up and he looked at her. "Sorry," Trip mumbled. "I-I just can't believe what you just said. To me. All that." He smiled at her, a huge grin spreading across his features. She arched an eyebrow at him and followed that with what appeared to be the beginnings of a smile.

"I think we should take it slow, T'Pol. I don't wanna screw this one up, not with you."

"Nor do I," she agreed.

"Where do we start?" Trip asked nervously. "I mean, how…how do we…you know, begin this…thing-"

"Sssssh…" said T'Pol.

He was silenced by a finger on his lips. T'Pol was leaning in closer to him, focused on her digit at his mouth. Trip reached up and gently moved her hand to his cheek. She cupped his other cheek as she drew nearer. Their lips met for the second time this week but this time it was different. Electricity jolted through them causing them both to gasp. T'Pol's hands slid into Trip's hair as his own hands found the back of her neck and jaw. The kiss deepened, this time catching neither one off guard. They explored each other's mouths, tongues busy. Trip leaned into her, trying to gain as much contact as he could in their awkward position. T'Pol folded her legs under her, drawing him closer, a hand slipping casually down his chest.

Trip was the first to pause. He gently pulled back and stroked her face with his hand, not wanting to look away, not even wanting to blink.

"I think…I think we should stop here," he said breathlessly. T'Pol nodded, understanding their mutual desire to pursue this new relationship with caution. She bit her lower lip as he positioned himself behind her, spooning her. They lay back down in the sand, his arms securely around her.

"I'm glad we chose this path," T'Pol murmured quietly.

"Me too, darlin'," Trip whispered and kissed her shoulder. "Tomorrow's gonna be a beautiful day."

Trip kissed her shoulder again. T'Pol turned her head to face him. Their lips brushed together once again. She turned back around, letting him envelop her in his firm but gentle grasp and fell fast asleep.

Trip smiled. Then he too closed his eyes and was lulled to sleep by T'Pol's rhythmic breathing.

Epilogue

"These pictures are gorgeous, Commander!" exclaimed Travis. He was thumbing through the sunset photos he'd asked Trip to take for him.

"It was one of the prettiest ones I've seen, Travis," Trip said, grinning at the ensign's enthusiasm. He and T'Pol had joined Travis, Malcolm and Hoshi for dinner. They all sat at a table in the corner, sharing the photos. Trip had his arm around the back of T'Pol's chair. She sat politely sipping her tea, looking almost like she was enjoying herself. He tried not to gaze at her too much in public. They hadn't told anyone specifically of their new relationship, but it wasn't a secret either.

Trip initially worried about how Malcolm would deal with all this, but his concerns were soon put to rest when he noticed Malcolm doing a bit of gazing himself. The communications officer was nothing but smiles as she tried not to blush.

"I really like this one, Commander," said Travis, holding up the picture of T'Pol. Trip's eyes grew wide and he made a grab for the photo.

"Ooo, brilliant, sub-commander!" Malcolm piped up. "May I have a copy of that?" He grinned at Trip, watching as T'Pol craned her neck to see, brow furrowed. Travis handed it to her.

"I wasn't aware you took this, Commander," she replied, studying the candid photo of herself leaning against a tree at sunset.

"I forgot about that one," said Trip, peering over her shoulder. "I think I'll frame it." He said it quietly into her ear and looked back at Travis. "Glad you like 'em, Travis. Watchin' the moons rise was even better."

The young helmsman beamed. "I'll bet! Four of them coming up must have been quite a sight!"

"Shoulda seen the waves," Trip replied with a nod.

A bit more chattering was followed by the group breaking up for the evening. Travis had wanted to go put the photos away. Malcolm and Hoshi left the mess together, leaving Trip and T'Pol sitting alone at the table.

"Shall we?" asked Trip, standing up. With a nod, T'Pol stood and they made their way out of the deserted mess hall. They walked slowly down the corridor.

"Why do you wish to keep that picture, Trip?" T'Pol asked quietly after a minute.

"I dunno," he said with a shrug. "So I can look at it from time to time. Humans are sentimental like that, I guess. One of life's simple pleasures."

"I have much to learn," T'Pol replied as they entered the lift. "I was brought up to believe that humans were volatile, illogical, impulsive, too adventurous…I've learned this is far from the truth, in most circumstances. I am glad I stayed aboard Enterprise."

Trip smiled and leaned in to kiss her softly. "Me too."

~FINIS~

(finally)

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Author notes: Joe and I wish to thank everyone for sticking with us on this one. We honestly had no idea it would drag on this long. Our Muses have informed us of another story that will most likely parallel this one. There is no rest for the wicked, my friends.

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A handful of people have made comments

Hey Stub, Although this story is only a PG-13 the dance scene is better than the biuld up to the main events in most NC-17 stories I've read, highly erotic. Did you do that on purpose? . Well written and very enjoyable! My thanks

wow. some really delicious scenes in this! the oreo thing? holy crap, that was good. and you described the settings beautifully. congratulations on a great story. i hope to see more. thanks heaps.

Loved it!!! It was funny, cute, witty... shall I go on? I mean, good job! I was laughing so hard, and then the picture of T'Pol, funny! You and... Joe make a good team!

Greatness!

loved loved loved loved it! I love the way you guys write!!!