The Mess Hall was semi-full today. It was a later lunch hour and most of the crew had already dined. Hoshi, Travis, and Trip sat at a table near the view ports. The two men talked while they ate. Trip was almost done eating, rushing to get back to Engineering. Hoshi studied something intently on her pad. She rubbed her hands together and then started bending them every which way.

A sharp sound interrupted the helmsman and engineer's conversation. Trip's fork paused in mid air as he watched Hoshi make the sickeningly loud noise with her pale fingers. She proceeded to crack each knuckle, making Trip wince. She pulled on the tips of her fingers all at once, making them all snap.

"How can you even do that?" The engineer looked like he had just ingested gagh.

Hoshi glanced up at him as if just realizing he was there. "Do what?"

Trip waved a hand in her direction. "Crack your knuckles like that."

Travis's eyes widened and he joined in on the conversation. "You can't crack your knuckles?" He started snapping his as if to demonstrate.

Trip shuddered. "No, I can't. And stop doing that."

Travis reluctantly complied.

"I thought that engineers would always be able to crack their joints," Hoshi said thoughtfully.

Trip shook his head. "I can't snap a single bone in my body."

He speared a broccoli floret on his fork.

"Are you going to finish your lasagna? That's from the last batch Chef made." Travis eyed his plate.

"Nah. Knock yourself out." Trip handed over the barely touched dish.

The conversation ended up steering towards what Chef had prepared and the subject of cooking. When the lighthearted topic was over the trio soon finished their meals. They all left one by one to return to their duties.

"Not yet! Ah!"

Adir was already apologizing profusely as he shut off the connection to the fried relay. Trip hissed through his teeth and cradled his injured hand against his chest.

"You should go see Doctor Phlox, Sir."

"Yeah. This will be what...the forty-seventh time I came in with a burn? Not that I'm counting. It's the cost of being an engineer."

He chuckled and Adir joined in, clearly relieved that Trip was not going to hold the accident against him.

"Go ahead and finish up here," he nodded to the fried relay panel and their equipment left strewn about.

"Aye, Sir."

Trip left the scene and walked to sickbay. The corridors were not as crowded in this section. Most of the security personnel were training at this time of day and general crew were scheduled at certain times to participate. Malcolm worked with their hand-to-hand combat skills, phaser training, and other defensive skills.

He opened the doors to sickbay. Phlox greeted him, gaze going straight to his burnt hand.

"Ah, it's just the burn, Commander?" When Trip nodded, Phlox gestured over to the biobeds so that he could have a seat while he was treated. The interaction was very routine.

While the doctor started to treat the burn, Trip looked around sickbay. He saw a familiar figure behind a partly closed privacy curtain.

"Malcolm?"

Malcolm was laying partially reclined. His foot was elevated on a spare pillow and he seemed to be waiting for Phlox to attend him. "Hello, Commander. I'm in for a sprained ankle. What about you?"

"A burn. Did combat training get rough?"

Malcolm sighed. "Not really."

"And I suppose that's why your ankle is covered with contusions," Phlox scolded him paternally.

Trip smirked and then winced when Phlox ran the dermal regenerator over his tender skin.

"It hasn't been my kind of day either. First Hoshi and Travis give me the willies during lunch and then I toast myself on what should have been a dead relay."

Malcolm smiled, sitting up straighter on the biobed. "Oh? What did Hoshi and Travis do?"

Trip shuddered. "They were crackin' their knuckles as loud as firecrackers. That sure isn't natural."

The slightest spark of sympathy shone in Malcolm's eyes before it turned into something indecipherable.

"Oh, people make me mental when they crack their knuckles continuously. Can you do it?"

"Can't snap a single one."

"I can't either."

Trip's tense body relaxed as he realized that he and Malcolm were in the same boat.

"I can crack my shoulders though."

Trip's mouth dropped open as Malcolm extended his left arm outward and a loud snap sounded from somewhere in the vicinity of his shoulder blades.

Trip choked.

"Much better," he grunted. "I must have forgotten to do that this morning."

Trip cringed and nearly wrenched his hand out of Phlox's grip as the tactical officer popped his other joint. Phlox grabbed his hand back to finish his treatment.

"Stay still, Commander. This would be over with much more quickly if you didn't let Mr. Reed distract you."

Trip turned his incredulous gaze to the doctor. "You can't possibly approve of people poppin' their bones like that."

Phlox shrugged. "Oh, it's quite harmless. The two most common reasons for the joint to make that noise are the movement of the bones and ligaments or escaping gases such as oxygen, nitrogen, and carbon dioxide."

Trip still looked like a cat subjected to water.

"There, we're all finished."

Phlox relinquished his hand. Trip rubbed it, feeling the newly repaired skin.

"Thanks, Doc."

Phlox smiled and showed him out of sickbay.

The next morning on the bridge was relatively quiet. Commander Tucker should have known that it wouldn't last. Hoshi was busy learning Andorian, but the Helmsman was unoccupied. Travis caught Malcolm's eye and winked. Trip caught the action with a confused frown. Malcolm turned in his seat and started his shoulder cracking routine he had told them about.

Archer remained oblivious to his officers quietly tormenting each other. Travis grinned as Malcolm rolled his shoulders and began. He extended his right arm, cradling it with his other hand until it gave a loud 'pop.'

Trip was glaring daggers at him now. The Lieutenant started to extend his left, moving into position. His face was twisted into a Cheshire cat grin. Turning in his seat, the Captain caught him in the act. His cracking joint echoed on the bridge. Reed's face flushed slightly.

"Just stretching, Sir," Malcolm said hastily. His gaze returned to his station as if it had suddenly become fascinating.

Jon looked back at Trip, who appeared to be seeking some sort of retribution. Very little went unnoticed on a Starship. The Captain had already been informed that Trip had a certain dislike of joint popping. Jon silently agreed that trying to purposefully annoy colleagues on the bridge was unprofessional.

"If you are all finished, let's get underway."

"Aye, Sir."

Everyone returned to their work with a chastised air. Archer was hardly a stickler for rules though. A little distraction was acceptable for a brief period of time, but only if inflicted by himself. With those thoughts in his head, Archer stood up and stretched. The angle and minuscule shift in his spine caused the trusty 'crack' in his back he had come to expect.

Archer sat back down. Every other officer on the bridge was smirking. Even T'Pol had a glimmer of something hidden deep in her eyes.

"I hate y'all," Trip said softly.

The End