Disclaimer: Paramount reigns supreme; I'm just playing in their world.
A/N: This short piece is fluffy like cotton candy. I'm just having fun exploring a different point of view.
Our Boy Is Gettin' Married
Lucy Tucker had two books in her lap and was attempting to choose which one she wanted to read first. It was a hard choice, but the kind that gives the satisfaction of knowing there is no wrong answer.
Ding-dong-ding. The doorbell interrupted her decision. Charlie was in the garage, so she made her way to the front door. They weren't expecting company. Lucy considered what she might offer a guest, and regretted the lack of fresh baked goods, which she had planned to make later.
All thoughts of baking flew from her mind when she opened the door. "Hello," she said automatically, trying her best to come up with a reason why a Vulcan might be on her porch. For that matter, she recognized the man as Ambassador Soval. Now and again he was on the news, but he looked different in person – more approachable. Then again, it could have been the shock of finding him on the other side of the front door.
"Greetings. Are you Mrs. Tucker, mother of Commander Charles Tucker the Third?"
"That's me." Still grasping for an explanation, she moved over to allow the ambassador room to enter. "Please come in."
"Thank you."
"Is your husband home?"
"He's making a birdhouse. I can get him."
"That would be agreeable."
Lucy walked through the entryway and opened the side door. "Charlie, Ambassador Soval is here."
Her own feelings and thoughts were evident on Charlie's face. Curiosity, concern, trepidation – they walked back into the house unable to come up with a positive reason that the Vulcan ambassador would personally visit their home. The first thought, naturally, was of Trip. If something happened to him, though, Starfleet would've told them. Ambassador Soval was the last person the Tuckers would have expected to arrive on their doorstep.
"Good afternoon, Ambassador," said Charlie in his most formal tone.
"Mr. Charles Tucker Junior, I presume."
"Yes."
"Are you thirsty? Can we get you anything?" Lucy didn't have the slightest clue what was considered polite when a Vulcan came calling, but it seemed right to make the offer. "We can sit."
"No, thank you. Doubtlessly you wish to know why I am here. I have come at the request of your son."
"Trip?" That only made sense – Trip knew Soval, and was the only connection they had to such a high-ranking official. It did not go a long way in clarifying why the ambassador was currently standing in the entryway.
"Indeed. I have come to take you to his wedding."
"What?"
"His wedding?"
"Yes. Your son will be married as soon as you arrive on Vulcan."
Lucy might've thought it was a joke, but joking would be un-Vulcan. "T'Pol?"
One of the ambassador's eyebrows rose impressively. "I was under the impression you were unaware of this development."
"He mentions her a lot. But marriage!"
"Commander Tucker wishes to explain personally. I am merely here to expedite your journey, as well as prevent official knowledge of the marriage. Starfleet as an organization and the Vulcan government do not know of the marriage. It would be ill-advised to inform you of it using official communications channels."
"How can they not know?"
"Certain individuals are aware of the impending marriage. Once the ceremony is complete and the two are married it will become official knowledge."
"Once it's done," nodded Charlie. "Aren't you official, though, Ambassador? No disrespect intended."
"None taken. I would prefer that you avoid the use of my title, however. I am here as a senior member of T'Pol's sub-clan, escorting her betrothed's parents to their wedding. This is in no way related to my official duties."
Leaving aside the blurry distinction between Soval the ambassador and Soval the…family member?, the stunned father could only ask, "Sub-clan?"
"T'Pol belongs to the clan of D'Rost'anik and the sub-clan of Hah'savali, as do I."
Lucy shook her head. "Let's get back to the weddin'."
"Very well. Everything you need will be supplied for you except formal attire to wear during the ceremony."
"He never even said they were datin'!"
The eyebrow went up again. "Vulcans do not "date," Mrs. Tucker."
"I'm sure Trip'll explain everythin' when we get there, darlin'."
"Time is of the essence. The chances of discovery are greater with delay."
"It's easier to beg forgiveness than ask permission, I guess," muttered Charlie.
"I had not heard that phrase previously. It is, however, remarkably accurate."
Lucy's thoughts raced: Charlie would need his grey suit; she would wear her pale green dress; Trip always said he'd marry someone "outta this world," but Starfleet better not kick him out over this; she wondered if Trip and T'Pol could have kids, poor little Elizabeth should've been with her parents as a family; Lizzie would've wanted to design them a house combining Vulcan and human architecture; how long would it take to get to Vulcan?; what exactly did the ambassador mean by a "sub-clan?"
Charlie grinned. "I'll lock up. Our boy is gettin' married!"