Mood Swing- Pt 2

Mood Swing

By Sue

E-MAIL: susieqla@yahoo.com
RATING: PG Friendship/Romance?
SPOILERS: Extinction
ARCHIVE: Yes.
DISCLAIMER: 'Enterprise' is the property of Paramount and its associates. No profit is being made.
SUMMARY: Missing scene...

Notes: This is an on-going string of vignettes, tailored to this pair's developing relationship. For those who eschew this pairing, read no further. You've been duly advised.

Part 2

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T'Pol faced away from the comm panel glaring at her unsettled looking guest stretched out on the modular lounger. The weight of her stare settled squarely on him. She saw him wince a bit as he began shifting himself. Annoyance seemed to be underlying her bearing. Meet the captain in the Command Center, T'Pol considered. This was the third time today he was summoning her. She knew the importance of being well briefed, but lately the captain had the habitual tendency of intervening just when she was needed elsewhere.

How, she assessed, was the Commander going to derive any benefit whatsoever from the helpful technique with all these constant interruptions, as necessary to the success of this revised mission as they may be? Although the captain's tone of voice brooked no allowance for hesitation, the Sub-commander did, if only for a moment.

Sluggishly, Tucker had roused himself from his supine position to a sitting one. He slouched a little. "Well that puts a crimp in our neuropressure plans for the evenin'," Trip countered, as though preparing to duck the visual daggers she aimed at him. He couldn't help noticing her wistful expression as he put his black undershirt, the one he had been wearing beneath his uniform all day, back on. Wistful might be overstating it, he thought with an inaudible chuckle. But she didn't seem herself, certainly not her trademark, coolly detached and rigidly unflappable,
stoic control or no. "We'll pick it up some other time if that's okay. I gotta tell ya, though. That first session really did the trick makin' me so relaxed although I didn't think there was a Twinkie's chance in hell I'd be all set to hit the sack. I felt too revved right after. Felt kinda weird. Nice, but, well sorta."

"You must practice the breathing technique I showed you. It will help you focus to a greater degree."

"I tried on the way to my quarters. I think I needed your suggestions, though. Anyhow, by the time I got back, whammo! I even skipped the shower. I was plumtuckered through an' through and fell right into bed. Out like a light in no seconds flat. Slept clear through till mornin'."

"*When* will you have your next treatment?" T'Pol asked which to his ears sounded somewhat sharp, and akin to being expectant. She heard how she'd sounded, but unlike other times she didn't care. If she were to succeed in helping Tucker, to Phlox' satisfaction, and yes, to her own, the time required to accomplish the goal was obligatory.

(I don't want him to go...and I don't want to report to the captain. Not now. Tomorrow morning would be more suitable.)

She surprised herself for having thought that, and though she managed to avert her wavering eyes from her guest's attentive gaze, she couldn't quite control the surge of heat traveling up her neck, warming her cheeks, gradually, her entire body.

(This is inexorably unacceptable...if I am unable to control inappropriate feelings, I will terminate these sessions myself...

Why this conflict?

(The Commander needs me--these treatments.)

Her reverie prevented her from responding when Tucker liltingly called her name. There was good reason why she had been reluctant to take on these intimate sessions with the Commander. Phlox and his well-meaning philanthropy, she silently reproved. Imperceptibly, she bit down on the corner of her lower lip. She did not know what to make of the desire to touch him again overpowering her. The insidiousness of her feelings, their treachery, she chastised.

Her look, and he judged it to be a touchstone of annoyance, seemed to be picking up steam. "What say we wait an' see. Somethin's got the cap'n hopped up," he replied evenly with a knowing gleam coming into his eyes. He wasted no time getting to the door to give her her privacy.

"You do not have to go. You may wait for me here until I return," she said with an almost imperious insistence. She struck her familiar pose, wrists crossed behind her back, resting a hairsbreadth above her pleasingly contoured rear end. The clingy pyjamas hugged her attractive form, gracing every forbidden curve.

Standing just outside the door, he said, "Thanks, but, I don't think so. I'll make do with what you started for tonight. Hey, don't think I don't appreciate what you're givin' up for me. Your free time which I know is real important to ya. Rain check." He paused long enough to take in the enigma she couldn't help being for him.

The expression on her normally expressionless face was new; he blinked just to make sure he wasn't imagining it. He wasn't about to guess what it meant so he detoured.

"As soon as I have finished with Captain Archer, I will come to your quarters... We will continue with the treatment there."

"No need to put yourself out, Sub-commander," he objected, wrapping his arms around himself as though holding something in. "Tomorrow night'll do just fine for pickin' up where you left off." His jaw went slack and as he was about to walk away, T'Pol made it abundantly clear that leaving it for tomorrow night was unacceptable.

"I will not be long. When I arrive at your quarters you are to be shirtless, and shoeless."

Shaking his head, but making the snap decision that debating with her was useless, Trip wordlessly ambled off, wondering what it took for her to take 'no' for an answer. He had a feeling finding out would prove a problematic, drawn-out business. Before disappearing around the bend, he halted, gave a tentative wave goodbye and shrugged. "I'll keep a light on..."

T'Pol went back inside her cabin. Before donning her shipboard attire, however, she helped herself to a bigger bite of his peace offering. The juice of the peach dribbled down her chin and she dabbed it with the tip of her finger. Furtively, her eyes tracked from side to side as though she feared some unseen someone would catch her in the act, just as a young child might who is discovered with hand in a cookie jar. She nibbled a bit more. She had never tasted anything as tart and impression-driving as this colorful, aromatic fruit before. Dismissing the thought as suddenly as she'd thought it, she hurried to dress.

Archer was hailing her again. T'Pol shot a dour look at the comm panel. "I'm on my way, Captain..."

;*;*;*;*;*;

End – (may be continued…)

Continue to Part 3

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