-1"How About a Movie?"
Trip/T'Pol Short, AU.
Disclaimer: Star Trek, Star Trek: Enterprise and related works, belong to paramount. This story is written entirely for the enjoyment of myself and others. No money is being made from this story, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Vulcans. Quite possibly the most annoying race humankind had encountered to date.
That was the conclusion Trip had come to after an hour or so of thought on the subject of this, most 'logical' species. Well, what passed for thought in his alcohol addled mind that is. He was confused, very confused.
Since the death of his sister Elizabeth, he had been emotionally unstable, distraught, and most certainly not himself. The grief was overwhelming, the anger he had felt since the horrific Xindi attack on earth was immeasurable. Phlox, in his infinite wisdom had suggested that T'Pol, Enterprise's resident Vulcan, could assist Trip with at least one aspect of his grief. So for some time now, Charles Tucker III had been visiting T'Pol for nightly sessions of Vulcan neuropressure. A technique similar to massage, although according to Phlox, much more effective. Apparently it would help him relax, help him sleep. A neat little cure for the insomnia that had been plaguing him. It was effective, no doubt about that, he had slept well the last few weeks, better than he had in a long time.
Only now he had another problem. Trip had started to develop feelings for his colleague. Feelings that T'Pol, by her very Vulcan nature, could not reciprocate. As a result of this little conundrum, Trip had found himself alone, in his quarters, with a bottle of bourbon for company.
T'Pol, as a Vulcan, found the prospect of physical contact with a human, unnerving. As a result, delivering the neuropressure treatment had been troublesome enough. If he should reveal his feelings to her, she would most likely find them improper and illogical. Future neuropressure treatments would be especially uncomfortable for the both of them.
As a Vulcan, T'Pol suppressed her feelings and emotions, and would likely not be sympathetic towards his.
It was because of this, that Trip had come to the conclusion that Vulcans were annoying.
"T'Pol to Commander Tucker" Came the voice through the ship's intercom system.
Trip hastily stumbled to the other side of the room and pressed the button on the comm panel.
"Go ahead T'Pol" Came his slurred reply.
"You are late for your neuropressure treatments" Came T'Pol's stony reply.
"Ah.. Sorry, I'll, I'll be there in a minute."
"Acknowledged, T'Pol out" She replied in a sharp, blunt tone.
Trip allowed himself to wonder for a moment, if he'd gotten her mad at him. As quickly as the thought came to him, he laid it to rest. Even if he had, somehow managed to upset her or make her angry at him, she would NEVER admit it. She had a stubborn streak, although she would probably never admit to that either.
T'Pol could swear that she could smell alcohol. She sat behind Trip, massaging his shoulders, and as he leaned forward and rested his head on his knees, there it was, the faintest hint of alcohol on his breath. This had been the second instance this week that the commander had to be reminded of his neuropressure sessions. T'Pol thought that perhaps he was preoccupied with something else. T'Pol decided that she would attempt to find out if there was a problem. Perhaps the Commander had decided that he no longer required the treatments, or perhaps the problem was entirely unrelated to their sessions.
She thought at least she should attempt to make small talk. Humans liked small talk. After all, they did tend to bore easily, and the last thing she needed was a snoring Commander Tucker by her bunk all night.
"Commander…"
"Yeah..?" Tucker replied groggily
"Are you unsatisfied with my performance?" T'Pol asked the resting crewmember
"No.. No, you're… You've done fine, better'n fine, actually I've been findin' it a lot easier to sleep- Why?"
"You have been late for your treatments on several occasions, I had assumed, that you no longer wanted them, and was unsure as to why"
"Nah, course I need 'em, otherwise, why would I still be here? Not that I don't enjoy your company… Its just, well… This would be a waste of time.." Trip found that he was stammering, and thought, that it'd probably be a good idea to just shut up. He figured he must be pretty damned nervous, and probably sounded stupid.
"I'm sorry T'Pol, I wont be late again" And that was the last thing he said to her until it was time to leave.
"Thanks for all your help, I couldn't have gotten through these last few months without you" He said as he walked out the door, and he smiled his first genuine smile in months.
"Your quite welcome Commander" T'Pol replied as he left.
Trip got halfway down the corridor, before he stopped, turned, and walked back again, only to find T'Pol still stood in the doorway.
"Hey, you know, its movie night tomorrow and I was wondering, if maybe, y'know, you wanna come with me? You know, just as a thank you- for all you've done for me. Frankenstein's Monster, It'll be a blast…" In the moment or so before her reply, all manner of things went through Trip's head, how silly this was -how stupid, how suicidal- and finally how ridiculous he was being, when he realised he was actually afraid of her answer. he'd only asked her to go see a movie…
As much as T'Pol worked on controlling her emotions, she'd always found it rather difficult and it was situations like this that she felt where the most troublesome. Trip's invitation surprised her rather a lot. She stood there, quiet, staring at him, just for a moment. Trip appeared to be contemplating what to do next, he appeared as if he was about to apologise and walk away. She quickly composed her mask of stoicism and just as quickly replied.
"I accept Commander." T'Pol wondered if her decision was perhaps a little hasty, and briefly considered what the implications of her acceptance would be. She wondered how Commander Tucker might interpret her interest when T'Pol herself did not understand her… Feelings. All she knew at that moment is that she had tried very hard to suppress them, and apparently failed.
"Well, that's great, I'll pick you up at eight" Said the Commander, who made no effort to hide his grin as he left.