Culture of Sport
AN: No romance here, no pairings, no hint of a pairing, no twisted romance at the end, just two friends spicing up a fitness session; basically just some innocent writing fun.
Also I may do a series of these with different sports, but I'm still contemplating that idea. May depend on how the response is, or just if it's fun to keep doing these.
…………………………………
She looked down at the small white sphere blankly, clearly either not impressed or not interested. As she judged it with a sceptic eye Trip watched her eagerly.
"C'mon Sub Commander. It'll give us both a break from the weights. Just a quarter of an hour, that's all ah'm askin' of ya."
As she sat on the bench with no hint of moving Trip rolled the 'football' back and forth between the sides of his feet. He was sizing up the back wall of the gym as he did so, the empty wall that allowed enough room to execute combat practice. He was sizing it up as a 'goal'. T'Pol held true to her scepticism.
"And where did you learn this… practice?"
The sphere remained under Trip's right foot now, waiting.
"It's not a practice, it's a sport. Malcolm showed me once. The game's called football, an' when the score o' goals is tied at the end of a game sometimes they play sudden death with penalties, which is what ah'm trying to get you to play with me now."
T'Pol nodded slowly, carefully calculating the explanation and rules. "And how do you, 'score a goal'?"
Trip was only speaking second hand, and after only one game with Malcolm, so he stood for a few seconds in careful thought, calculating himself how best to carry on explaining. He came to a simple conclusion.
"If ah showed ya it be it a lot easier than yakkin' about it."
A sly eyebrow crept slowly up T'Pol's forehead. "Who was, 'yakking'?"
Trip allowed a thin smile to that one.
"Here, get up an' stand over there." He pointed to the empty back wall of the gym and T'Pol kept her slim eyebrow raised.
"Was that an order?"
Trip paused as he picked up the football. "No, no just a request. So if y' will."
When she didn't more he began to adopt a pleading look in his young blue eyes again as she showed no signs of co-operation.
"C'mon T'Pol, if the British can make a phenomena out of it then we gotta make some us of it as well."
T'Pol looked as doubtful as her kind could. "I do not see what purpose this could serve us, or what logical reason there is for playing this sport."
Trip allowed half a smug smile to run across his lips. "An' here was me thinkin' you were maybe a lil' different from all the other Vulcans, more open minded, more… adventurous."
He won over the response he was pushing for. T'Pol sat up a little straighter, her muscles stiffening slightly and the towel from around her glistening shoulders crumpling to the cool laminate floor as she seemed suddenly to take an interest at his proposal.
Trip kicked the ball lightly so as it rolled onto the training floor then turned back to face T'Pol. "So what d' y' say Sub Commander?"
She searched for a reason to justify her sudden want to play.
"It is always useful, I suppose, to learn about and experience the cultural practices of other species, even ones of Humans."
Trip shone a smile of triumph. "Well whatever floats yer boat."
She frowned at him.
"Never mind. Go stand at the back wall."
Finally she lifted her lithe body off the bench and took a few long cat-like strides to do as Trip commanded of her. She fought off somewhat of a strong urge to say 'Yes Sir' as an attempt at dry humour.
As she positioned herself along the back wall Trip brought himself to stand facing her, only fifteen feet away with the white ball trapped under his right foot yet again. His lecture on how to play the sport of football continued thereafter.
"From here it's simple enough. Ah kick the ball an' you stop it from hittin' the back wall. Got it?"
She quipped a brow, almost feeling patronised. There was little to 'get' she thought, as she assumed it be to a simple enough game of hand-eye-foot co-ordination.
Unfortunately she did not count on Trip's use of power and speed as well.
He took a couple of well-planned steps back, arching to his left slightly, his back dropping height a little as if he were on the prowl. His eyes went from T'Pol, who stood still but ready, to the stationary football that begged him to kick it with every inch of strength he possessed in his right foot. An eerie stillness dropped over the room.
"Y' Ready?"
She did not understand the supposed build up of tension but she did nod in silence. He grinned.
He took off from the spot faster than she could compromise and as she blinked in surprise Trip logged his foot onto the leather surface of the football and sent it thundering into the left hand side of the wall, inches from T'Pol's head.
"Goal one to the Engineer, nothin' t' the Science Officer." He almost radiated with victory as the walls settled from shaking with the strength of his landed goal.
"C'mon T'Pol, ah thought y'd put up more of a fight than that!"
The ball rolled back to Trip and he positioned it once again fifteen feet from T'Pol and the back wall. She did not look impressed but nor did she voice a complaint or a comeback.
Trip dropped a few centimetres in height again, lining and position himself, but arching to the right this time. T'Pol crouched with him, flexing her fingers and never moving her stern gaze from the ball.
He took off, he plunged his foot forward again and it rattled once again into the back wall, to the right of T'Pol's head this time.
She quickly straightened up and stood patiently as the room echoed with the Southern twanged chants of "Two nil up!"
"Alright Sub Commander, we'll make it to five an' then switch."
She nodded silently in agreement.
Trip aligned himself again. Nothing could keep the small hint of a smile from off his face as he eyed up T'Pol and his goal carefully. He assured himself of a win on this next penalty. He made one small mistake though, noticed only by T'Pol's keen eye. He didn't arch enough to one side this time.
He was almost straight in front of T'Pol and the ball, his foot itching to sink into the surface of the leather again and his throat impatient to start up the victory chant of "Three nil win".
T'Pol crouched. She let her fingers tense and relax in quick succession, the fingertips and palms bracing themselves for what would be another overpowered shot.
Trip took off. She reached forward slightly and as the ball soared towards hitting her full on in the face she allowed her lightening reflexes to take over and her small hands wrapped tightly around the ball in success just before it would have smashed her nose in.
"Would that mean the score is now two to one?"
For all his need to keep his pride in tack Trip could not regain his voice quick enough to reply with some sly snide or tone of sarcasm. He had hardly even caught the action with his eyes and had even winced because he thought the football was sure to crunch into her. But instead she stood with it held neatly between her palms, her own eyes almost screaming to gloat.
She tossed the ball back and he barely caught his composure in time to catch it. He was no longer in the mode just to play; instinct had kicked in and urged him to win.
"Alright, ah get this one in ah win."
She nodded. "I know."
He almost glowered. The ball was placed down again at fifteen feet away. His actions were reflected tens of times in the mirrors that laced the walls of the gym; his utter need to win also reflecting in tens of pairs of narrow blue eyes.
T'Pol remained poised and calm as she had the ability to remind herself that it was only a game and nothing precious but perhaps male pride and either keeping it or destroying it was staked on this.
This time Trip dipped generously to the left as he kept his height slightly lowered at about the same level he did on every turn. All amounts of focus went solely on the wall and the ball; T'Pol was no longer in his line of sight.
He eyed the left corner. There was a slim chance of it hitting there, but a bigger chance of depriving T'Pol from catching the shot.
She stood in utter silence waiting for him to launch himself. Finally as he finished his judgment he did.
The ball flew at a wicked speed and slammed hard into the top left corner. T'Pol hadn't the time to reach up for it before she calculated where it was heading.
"An' the Engineer wins! A great day of triumph for technology over science an' a true triumph for humans everywhere, don't y' agree Sub Commander?"
Naturally she did not, nor did she see how this game represented the stance of science and technology, and Humans and Vulcans.
"I believe it is my turn to place in goals now?"
He stepped aside from his penalty position and jogged to the corner to collect the ball for her. A grin forever painted his pale lips.
"Here ya are."
He tossed her the ball and she caught it deftly, placing it down on the same spot Trip had on each turn. In the five minutes or so it had taken Trip to execute his four shots T'Pol had learnt a lot.
She had rarely shown off her strength before in the year and a half she had served Enterprise. There had been rare few occasions where she had had to, and if she remembered right Trip had not seen her yet use her body in combat and her strength against others.
He moved into goals and she began to creep backwards, moving to the left. She knew that Trip worked with his right hand, as Humans had that curious trait of usually only being able to work with one hand well. She therefore aimed for the left.
He scuffed his feet back and forth across the floor, never quite standing still as T'Pol had. He still wore his smile and seemed to be taunting with his eyes, although she was unfazed by it if he was.
She took a few more steps back than he had and spent a little longer surveying the ball and Trip's stance. Unlike he she kept him in her line of sight always.
There was no warning before she took off on her heal and almost no time to watch her foot sock into the ball, sending it flying deftly to the wall and landing it only inches from Trip's hip. His face flushed itself of colour.
T'Pol trapped the ball firmly under her foot as it came rolling back to her.
"I believe that would place me one up then?"
…………………………………
-One Hour Later-
The gym was haunted by the thundering shots of an overpowered football running into the back wall at reckless speeds over and over again. The walls shook in terror and the room was laced with the air of heavy competition. There was also an edgy audience present.
None of the ten or so who had gathered to watch unwittingly was sure whether to laugh at the absurdity of the sight or to keep themselves in silent apprehension. For now they opted for the latter.
Malcolm was amongst the group, and had been the second after Hoshi to join in the spectatorship. He placed full blame on himself for this. He was never even too keen on football, even just taking penalties; it had just been a way to pass the time in the gym one day with Trip, and now he wished he'd never even spoke to him about the game.
T'Pol was back in goals. They had played countless times now, and it had always been that Trip would win one and then T'Pol one.
The current status was that the shots were tied, Trip had scored two and T'Pol had saved two. T'Pol was also one game up, twenty-four to twenty-three. Every game for the past forty-five minutes was meant to be their last, but they seemed relentlessly just to carry on, fighting off aching muscles and fatigue to do so.
A chilling silence had settled. Not a spectator dared to speak, move or breathe hard. They sat scattered across gym equipment and benches, and Malcolm stood with his arms crossed as if bracing himself for the worst. They were like this, almost in a state of stone cold fear, only because of the fierceness in each competitor's eyes.
Trip knew that if he missed this shot he would have to call it a day and proclaim T'Pol the winner. Not a fibre in him wanted to do that, not even to be a gracious loser.
He stood a fair distance from the ball, further back than usual. He also stood almost directly in front of it. He wanted a high shot, one that would soar generously over T'Pol's head, just missing the ceiling.
Malcolm had told them that there was a limit to the size of the goal but neither heeded him on that rule and decided the whole back wall was of a fair enough size for them. It was not a particularly long wall anyway, although reasonably high.
Through the pressure of this shot Trip managed to tease a smile into his face. T'Pol had finally gathered that he was trying to taunt her when doing this, but he had not be successful yet in doing so. For him though it gave him some kind of confidence.
"Y' ready?"
He had asked her this countless times now and every time he did T'Pol only nodded her head. She braced herself as well.
Trip shuffled his feet a few times, gathering the feel of the turf beneath him. He calmed his heart rate and honed his focus in on the ball. Then he prayed.
He left his marker in a flash of his heals and threw his leg back fast, pushing every inch of power he had into the toes of his foot to offer his hardest, fastest shot yet. It flew high and almost immediately he began to congratulate himself on the victory.
T'Pol jumped for it, already anticipating that the ball was headed for above her. Her hands shot up high but the ball never actually reached where everyone thought it was destined to go. Instead it landed in her face.
Both ball and Vulcan landed hard, T'Pol keeping on her feet but burying her face in her hands in a burst of amazing pain.
At the very least Trip's white face and horror stricken eyes showed the signs of a wholly mortified man. The ball rolled innocently past his feet, bouncing lightly against a treadmill behind him.
The fact that no one moved emphasised the heat in T'Pol's eyes when she finally lifted her head from her hands again. A sliver of dark green blood spilled from her nose and there was no doubt that within the hour a generously dark bruise would be circling her left watery eye. However she showed no signs of pain, only the will to carry on.
"I believe that would mean we are tied now."
Trip took a few tentative steps towards her his eyes desperate with guilt. "That didn't count! Ah'm sorry, ah really am. An' ah'd say you've won now."
She shook her head. "No, I will take one more shot. If I score, I win. If not then the victory is yours."
It was a challenge Trip itched to take up but he winced and felt searing remorse as he surveyed the damage on T'Pol's face.
"Shouldn't y' go see Phlox?"
"I am fine, and I will as soon as I take this shot."
Malcolm shifted uncomfortably on the balls of his feet. Beside him, sitting on an exercise bike Hoshi could not have felt more nervous and jittery. The feeling rippled throughout the group.
Seeing no other choice but to accept the final challenge Trip eventually nodded and took up position in goals. An Ensign leant up against the handles of the treadmill passed T'Pol the football again. She settled it fifteen feet from Trip.
Throughout the game T'Pol had always gone to the left, and for the most part scored that way. Now she found it time to take on a different calculated approach. This time she moved to the right.
Adrenalin kept Trip focused as he watched every move T'Pol made closely.
She moved back, stopped and then took another few steps back. She leant forward slightly then straightened up a fraction and allowed her mind to race with calculations of the perfect shot. Then, when all had been thought out and planned she forgot it and ran forward to take a reckless shot.
Her shot ran straight and true and flew with speed, precision and power far surpassed anything seen in the game so far.
It landed in the one place every man dreaded.
All eyes turned away as Trip doubled into himself and fell to the floor in utter, wordless pain and defeat. T'Pol trapped the ball under her foot once again as it rolled back to her fifteen feet away from the crippled played.
"We will call it an fair tie Commander."
Trip looked up at T'Pol weakly and nodded before burying his face back in the ground again. T'Pol didn't understand his reaction, her face was in just as much white hot pain as she imagined he was, but she would not fall to the floor because of it.
Eventually she walked over to and stood above Trip and dropped her hand down for him to take as he looked up at her again meekly. Still keeping one hand to the offended area he accepted her offer of help and she pulled him up with ease.
It was then that the gym doors opened and Captain made his appearance.
"Sub Commander, Trip, you two were due for duty fifteen minutes ago, what the hell have you been doing?"
T'Pol's battered face and Trip's ashen expression did not escape Archer's notice as he surveyed the two, both thoroughly run down of energy and ready to call it a day, even when the first shift hadn't even started. After a moment of silence, feeling he wasn't up for the answers to the questions he so desperately wanted to ask he sighed.
"Both of you report to sickbay now."
They nodded thankfully and left in haste behind them the silent audience and a bemused Captain in a rather shaken gym.
For the most part they were silent themselves as they carefully walked down to sickbay, Trip not ashamed to accept T'Pol's shoulder as he struggled to walk to their destination. There was one thing he said though before they reported their injured selves to the Doctor.
"Ah come off at seven t'night. Y' free t' play then?"
She opened the doors to the medical haven, paused in serious consideration and then as Phlox approached them with a wide smile nodded in quick, silent agreement.
"Yes sir."