A bit of Christmas fluff that comes from listening to The Nutcracker Suite in the car for 3 hours. Mildly Tucker/Reed slash, but Santa won't leave them coal for anything they're doing.

A Christmas Classic

Ever since Captain Archer had told him he could move Movie Night to coincide with the ship's Christmas Eve party, Trip Tucker had been trying to come up with a suitable film. His first thought had been A Christmas Carol. There were so many versions to choose from - anything from Alastair Sim to George C. Scott to Patrick Stewart - but then he remembered what his lover, Malcolm Reed, had told him about his memories of Christmas and had decided that the story of the miserly, hard-hearted Ebenezer Scrooge might hit a little too close to home for Mal, whose father, Stuart, didn't believe in celebrating such frivolous things as Christmas.

He'd shown It's A Wonderful Life last year without realizing, much too his shame, how much Mal had felt like the film's main character, George Bailey. He'd missed the party while tracking Mal down and acting like Clarence, his guardian angel, as Mal finally opened up about how inadequate he often felt, both personally and professionally. He didn't want to go through that again, and he sure as hell didn't want to put Mal through it again either.

After quite a bit of thought, though, Trip had narrowed his choices down to Tim Burton's The Nightmare Before Christmas with its unusual animation techniques; How the Grinch Stole Christmas, another animated film where the great horror movie actor Boris Karloff was the narrator and also provided the voice for the Grinch; Scrooged with Bill Murray which was simply another version of A Christmas Carol, but this one was funny; The Santa Clause with Tim Allen; and the old standby Miracle on 34th Street.

He'd floated some trial balloons in the mess hall at lunch which, he realized now, had been a tactical error. Of course, if the ship's weapons and tactical officer had been there to offer a little support instead of messing around with the starboard phase cannon again, perhaps things wouldn't have gone south in such a big way, but then Mal had warned him that he might be unavoidably detained. When it came right down to it, he should have just picked one and been done with it; but no, he had to ask Hoshi's opinion, and Hoshi wanted something else entirely.

"For crying out loud, Hoshi, that's a ballet! Can't you just pick a film from the list?" Trip whined a bit louder than was advisable.

"I'm aware of that, Trip, but I wouldn't have minded finding Mikhail Baryshnikov under my tree. He was so cute!" Hoshi replied with a naughty smile.

"Travis, you gonna put up with this, or what?" Trip's whining had gone up a few decibels.

"Commander, have you ever heard the phrase 'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned'? I'd just go with the flow if I were you." Travis and Hoshi were a couple, and Travis was no fool.

"Is there a problem, Commander?" The Andorian First Officer, Shran, had not needed his ultrasensitive antennae to hear the commotion.

"Yes, sir. I mean, no, sir, not exactly," Trip stumbled all over himself.

"What exactly do you mean, Commander?" Shran asked quietly with more patience than most people would have credited him with having.

Oh, great, Trip thought. Now the command structure is involved. "I was just taking a little unscientific poll on what movie the crew would like on Christmas Eve. Hoshi wants some ballet by some guy named Tchaikovsky, starring some guy named Baryshnikov, because she thinks he's cute, and it ain't even on the list!"

"Indeed," Shran replied evenly. "I believe I know the one you mean, Hoshi. The music is lovely, but I've never seen the ballet performed. I vote for that one too, Commander. Are we done here?" Shran's tone of voice indicated quite clearly the answer he expected.

Trip heaved a sigh. "Yes, sir, we're done." But that wasn't the end of it, not by a long shot. Word of Hoshi's choice spread through the ship like wildfire. Wonder how that happened? Trip thought cynically. When he returned to his quarters at the end of his duty shift and checked his messages on the data terminal, he found he had mail. Boy, did he ever - and it all wanted the same thing!

Trip and Malcolm were sitting together in bed reading. Trip looked up from his PADD and said, "I could have used your help at lunch, Mal."

"I'm sorry I was unavailable, but I did advise you . . ."

"I know ya did, Mal. It's OK." Trip sighed. When it came to this particular Movie Night, sighing in frustration was becoming a habit. "It's just that now I'm stuck showing this stupid ballet for Movie Night, and if you'd been there, maybe you could have talked Hoshi out of it. She listens to you."

"When it suits," Malcolm chuckled. "But I'm afraid I really wouldn't have been much assistance, Trip. As it happens, I'd like to see it, too."

"You what?!" Trip dropped the PADD and stared at Malcolm in disbelief. "There's explosions in a ballet?"

Malcolm was laughing now. "No, but there is a battle scene of sorts." Malcolm suddenly sobered. "Listen, Trip, I got to see this ballet performed at the Royal Albert Hall when I was a child. It's one of the few happy memories of Christmas I have. I really would like to see it again."

Trip saw the uncertainty in Malcolm's expressive blue-gray eyes. "OK, Mal. If I'd known . . . " Trip put his arm around Malcolm and gave him a hug. "You've been holdin' out on me, darlin'. Tell me about this happy Christmas memory."

Malcolm's eyes took on a faraway look. "I shouldn't think that I was more than 10. Father got tickets. I don't know how or why, but through the navy, I suppose. It was all very formal. The men were in evening dress or dress uniforms and the women in long evening gowns and a tremendous amount of jewelry. It was as if they were all wearing stars."

"You must have looked pretty cute in a miniature tux." Trip smiled at the thought.

"Cadet uniform, actually. I was sent down to London by rail the afternoon of the performance and returned to boarding school the same way as soon as it was over."

"Jeez, Mal, I thought you said this was a happy memory." Trip was appalled, but not surprised, given what he knew of Malcolm's family, that he had been so easily discarded by his parents and moved about like so much baggage.

"It is, Trip. Be patient, please. It was apparently a command performance, because the Royal Family was there, including the Princess of Wales."

"That would be Diana, the current queen?" Trip asked.

"Yes. She was perhaps 15 then and as beautiful as her great-great-grandmother for whom she was named." Trip could see Malcolm's slight blush and thought that it made him look even more attractive. "You see, I had something of a crush on her. When the waltz is played toward the end of the ballet, I imagined I was dancing with her. She never would have noticed me, of course. It wouldn't have been proper. If she had done, then I suppose I would have fainted in fright which would have caused my parents to die of shame. Still, it was a pleasant fantasy." Malcolm took a sudden intense interest in the PADD on his lap. "Please don't laugh, Trip." His voice was nearly inaudible.

Trip already had one arm about Malcolm's shoulders. He now put his other hand under Malcolm's chin, gently raised his head and turned it toward him. The uncertainty was back in the luminous blue-gray eyes. "Never, darlin'. She might have noticed. You look pretty damn good in uniform." And even better out of it, Trip thought. "Didn't she marry a commoner?"

"Yes, a young lieutenant in the Royal Navy, although I believe his father was a naval aide to the late king, so they probably knew each other as children."

"Not to step on your dreams or anything, darlin', but I'm kinda glad she didn't get the chance to notice, 'cause if she had, I might not have been able to do this." Trip leaned in and kissed Malcolm full on the mouth.

Malcolm smiled the little half smile that drove Trip nuts. "I suppose it's just as well then that I defied my father in his choice of career for me. Not being an officer in the Royal Navy kept me out of the line of fire, so to speak; else I might not have been able to do this." He returned Trip's kiss with passion, an invitation to a very different sort of dance.

At 1830 sharp on Christmas Eve, Malcolm pressed the door chime to Trip's quarters. As usual, because he knew it pleased Trip, he was dressed all in black - a blazer with small gold buttons over a cashmere turtleneck sweater and slacks with razor-sharp creases. When Trip answered the door, it was clear he had decided to dress for the occasion as well. No sweat pants and T-shirt or sweatshirt and not even khakis or jeans and a loud Hawaiian print shirt, but rather navy blue slacks and a light blue silk shirt open at the neck. Malcolm was clearly impressed by the change. "My, but you look quite fetching this evening, Mr. Tucker," he said with a grin.

"Same to ya, but more of it, darlin'," was Trip's heartfelt, if inelegant, reply as he claimed a quick kiss.

Chef's staff had transformed the mess hall into something of a winter wonderland where even an old 1970s (Earth Standard) disco glitter ball didn't seem out of place. There were poinsettias in a variety of colors as centerpieces on the tables. For the centerpiece of the buffet table, Shran had carved a large ice sculpture of a sleigh drawn by three horses with a building in the background that was surmounted by an onion-shaped dome. It was based on a scene from Doctor Zhivago that he said reminded him of an Andorian fairy tale. As always, there was an immense spread of food, including a large cheese tray that was safely out of Porthos' reach. It was the dessert table, though, where Chef really outdid himself at Christmastime. There were cookies of every imaginable kind, including humanoid-shaped cookies made of gingerbread. There was chocolate in abundance, too, both light and dark. The centerpiece of the dessert table, however, was a giant, minutely detailed, gingerbread Enterprise. (Now Trip understood why some of the specs had disappeared for a day and were sticky with unidentifiable spots on them when they reappeared.) The aromas emanating from the mess hall were just heavenly!

Chef hadn't forgotten Porthos. There were home-made doggie treats in his dish and a bone to gnaw on. Porthos nosed his dish under the buffet table in the vicinity of the cheese tray. That way, no one could get to his food. On the off chance nobody remembered to slip him a piece of cheese, he could readily claim any they dropped; in fact, he considered any food that made it to the floor to be rightfully his. He needn't have worried on the cheese front, though. His master might not give him any, but Shran gave him a cube of pepper Jack. A bit too hot for Porthos' taste, but it was the thought that counted, and he happily licked the blue fingers of the first officer to show his appreciation. Later, Malcolm surreptitiously slipped him a piece of real cheddar, his all-time favorite. This merited more than a polite licking of fingers. As Malcolm knelt to pet the soft fur of the little beagle, Porthos licked his face. The little dog's tail was wagging wildly and it seemed like the pooch was trying to dance. For his part, Malcolm, who had never been allowed a pet as a child, was grateful that his allergies didn't extend to dog hair. He adored the captain's pet. When the lights went down for the movie, Porthos retreated under the table, stretched and laid down beside his dish for a nap. He was pretty proud of himself. He'd brought the two toughest guys on the ship to heel. They were playthings in his paws.

Hoshi, dressed in a red silk pantsuit with black trim and a pattern of gold chrysanthemums on the jacket, her long, dark hair done up in an elaborate bun, got the movie started. Clearly, she wasn't going to give Trip a chance to sabotage her choice and substitute who knew what. She didn't know that since it was also Malcolm's choice, such mischief was the furthest thing from his mind. In fact, Trip was happy to just sit back and enjoy. He and Malcolm sat down in front now and openly held hands, their relationship no longer a secret and a pairing happily accepted by the crew since both men were respected and well liked. During the film, Trip looked about at the other members of the audience. Shran, dressed in the royal blue service uniform of the Imperial Guard, sat with antennae forward and quivering slightly in intense concentration. Hoshi had a happy (if slightly dopey) look on her face. Travis, dressed in a brightly patterned batik shirt and black jeans, was happy because Hoshi was happy. Jon looked happy, too. Like Malcolm, he'd seen the production as a child and had wanted to see it again. When Trip stole a glance at Malcolm, he was amazed to see the sense of wonder in his eyes. Mal was relaxed and seemed supremely happy. Trip slightly tightened his grip on Malcolm's hand, the gesture being met with a light answering pressure. Truth be told, Trip was enjoying the movie too. He was surprised to find that he recognized a lot of the music, he just hadn't known that it came from this work. As he watched Baryshnikov dance, he imagined the lithe and athletic Malcolm in the role. To an outside observer, Hoshi wouldn't have been the only one with a happy (if slightly dopey) look.

Following the movie, the party really kicked into high gear. In addition to the food, there was music for dancing (and singing). There was a piñata in the shape of a large pink pig that was filled with hard candies and small gifts. It took some persuasion, but Malcolm finally took a crack at breaking it. He didn't succeed, but Shran did, which set off a mad scramble for the goodies and a great deal of trading afterward. There was also, of course, a spiked punch. Trip thought Chef must have a new recipe. It tasted awfully good.

During a break in the music, Travis and Hoshi, who seemed to have been dancing nonstop, came over to join Trip and Malcolm at their table. Travis said he needed a drink. Trip highly recommended the punch. He said it was great, and at this point, he'd certainly had enough to know. When the opening strains of Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band performing Santa Claus is Coming to Town came on the sound system, Hoshi turned to Malcolm, offered her hand and said, "Wanna dance, Malcolm?"

Malcolm looked questioningly at both Travis and Trip.

"If that's what Hoshi wants, then it's fine by me, Malcolm," Travis said. "Man, I need to take a breather."

"Save me a slow dance, darlin'," was Trip's somewhat slurred reply.

Malcolm smiled at Hoshi and took her hand. "I'd be delighted, Miss Sato."

Trip watched Malcolm swing dance with Hoshi with a growing sense of admiration. They were an attractive couple, well matched in size, height and ability. When Malcolm turned Hoshi in a back flip such that she landed lightly in time to the fortissimo downbeat of the song, even Travis was impressed enough to remark, "Damn, who says white boys can't dance?"

Trip knew how to dance. His momma had seen to that. The Tuckers were a large extended family, and it seemed like there had always been a party going on somewhere. Momma Tucker said it was necessary for a young gentleman to know how to dance properly, so he had learned. Next to Malcolm, though, he figured he was pretty spastic. Malcolm was confident, assured, smooth, elegant, relaxed, happy and gorgeous.

Trip wasn't sure if he ever got that slow dance with Malcolm. He did remember kissing Malcolm rather passionately under one of the strategically placed sprigs of mistletoe, but then it was hard to forget kissing Malcolm. He vaguely remembered singing a very off-key version of Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer on the way to his quarters, but he was pretty much dead to the world by the time Malcolm put him to bed.