The Secret Grooming Habits of Vulcans

By Ginamr

Rating: PG-13
Summary: What Trip doesn't know won't hurt him.
Genre: Humor/Challenge
Notes: This is for the November word challenge - "bath".

She found baths to be rather enjoyable. Not that she'd admit that to anyone. Their current shoreleave on Risa had presented her with the rare opportunity to indulge in one. The scalding heat of the water reminded her of home and the bubbles were an illogical luxury that made the experience all the more pleasing. Classical music by various Human composers hummed in the background, completing the ritual.
Once, she'd overheard several Human females discussing the various accompaniments to an evening bath and had learned that the extras varied from champagne to chocolate to a male companion. Since the events around yuletide, she'd envisioned Trip joining her in the soapy water and had nearly laughed at the image of his nude body coated from head to toe in bubbles.
She started when she heard the bathroom door open and instinctively ducked her exposed body beneath the thick, foamy bubbles. Trip stepped over the threshold wearing a smirk. She'd been caught.

"A bubble bath, huh?" he drawled.

She arched an eyebrow. "I don't need to defend my grooming habits to you. How did you get into my room?"

"You didn't answer when we tried to contact you so Malcolm sent me to investigate."

"As you can see," she retorted callously. "I'm uninjured."

Trip chuckled, his gaze darting back up to hers. "Yeah. I see all right."

She covered her breasts with her arms, suddenly self-conscious. "Leave," she ordered.

"No," he challenged, his eyes glinting mischievously.

Her eyebrow arched higher. "Pardon me?"

He grinned. "Come on. It's nothing I haven't seen before. Don't tell me you're self-conscious after what happened between us."

"Those events don't permit you to view my nude form anytime you choose," she rejoindered. "Get out."

When he stood unmoving, she reached for a clump beside her, keeping the other arm covering her breast and lobbed them at him. He ducked the ballistic and laughed.

"Damn, baths make you downright grouchy."

She gazed at him tolerantly. "Vulcans do not get grouchy."

"Well, I hate to interrupt your bath, darlin'," he teased. "But the Captain's invited the senior staff to dinner."

"Is attendance obligatory?"

He shook his head. "Nope. But you might want to go anyway."

Her brows knitted slightly. "Will we be discussing a matter of importance?"

"Again, no." He grinned. "But if you don't, I'll tell as many people as will listen that the resident Vulcan indulges in bubble baths."

Her expression became unreadable. "And why would I bow to such blackmail? The crew's opinion on my personal grooming habits is of no consequence to me."

He sighed. "Okay. I'll start with Malcolm. He'll get a real kick out of this." He turned to leave.

"That will not be necessary," T'Pol blurted. "I will need privacy to dress."

Trip smirked and nodded. "I'll come by around 1800 hours." He paused. "You know, I enjoy bubble baths, too; but I prefer company. Maybe you can join me next time."

She at last heard the doors to her room close and she stepped out of the bath tub, drying herself off. His last words stayed with her as she attempted to discern their meaning. If she didn't no any better, she could swear it had been an invitation.