Author's Notes/disclaimer in Chapter One.

Today's story is a bit tamer than the last two in this series. It's more like T.

This is a missing scene that takes place immediately preceding "Home". No real spoilers.

The Male of the Species

"You don't have to pretend, pepperpot." Trip had been mulling this over for the last three days, ever since she told him she was going home while she had the leave time. But now that it was out there on the deck plating, in the small space between them, Trip almost wished he could take it back. Of course, it didn't work that way with T'Pol.

"That's fortunate, since I'm far from adept at the practice." She stopped massaging the soles of his feet, and looked at him down the length of her luscious and completely bare body. "However, I'm confused as to what you've absolved me from having to pretend about."

Tonight was the last night they had together before she went home, and, even though she said she was considering staying with Enterprise, maybe joining Starfleet, Trip wanted to get it said, so there'd be nothing for her to feel guilty about, later. She'd been through enough – and a hell of a lot more than enough – this last year. She didn't need any more feelings she didn't understand taking her over.

"Trip?" She released his foot, spinning with almost impossible grace so that they were lying face to face. "You're troubled. Perhaps I can ease your mind."

"Not unless you can make the males of your species less - well, Vulcan."

"I can't. Why would that be of any consequence?" She tipped her head just a bit in that way that let him know he'd surprised her.

"Well, let's go with the short list. They're faster, stronger, and smell better than I do. They live longer, they speak your language without Tripping up all the words, they're a hell of a lot more logical than I am, and I'll just about bet they'd never ever stoop to asking your age, reading your mail, or holding a phase pistol to your head while they accused you of about colluding with rock people. And I'll bet not a single male Vulcan in your entire history has ever gotten himself knocked up."

"All of these things are true, or likely so." A pause. "Why are you scowling, Trip?"

"Let me guess. Those Vulcan guys – none of them have egos that need stroking."

"You wished me to refute your statements."

"You could've argued a little." Damn. He sounded like a petulant kid.

"I would have been lying."

Trip sighed. "I might've really liked it if you had. Just a little – because I'm human, and my ego does need stroking." Why did he keep expecting her to follow human scripts?

"All the things you said were true. However, Trip, I am not sharing advanced neuropressure with a male of my species." He got the feeling that he wasn't doing so well at following Vulcan scripts, either.

"I don't exactly see any around here – but your world's infestedwith them."

"And you're concerned that I will be more attracted to them than I am to you." She might not follow human scripts, but T'Pol was a very smart woman.

"Like calls to like." He shrugged, as though it didn't hurt to think about her with one of those superior Vulcan specimens.

"There are are nearly thirty human women aboard Enterprise, Trip. And yet, you are here with me, sharing an act deemed intimate among my people, and unknown among your own. Is that natural?"

"Well, it's different. I'm human – we like new things."

"Do you not also have a saying that speaks of the attractive powers of contrasts?"

"You mean 'opposites attract'." He was going to remember her way of putting it, though.

"Yes."

"Where are you going with this?"

"I won't refute your comparisons, because they're irrelevant to me. I have never been attracted to a Vulcan male, Trip. It was assumed I would develop some ability in that regard with Koss. Vulcans aren't evolved to be attracted to a variety of potential mates, as you are. I'm attracted to you - and strongly so." Her eyes dilated, glowing in the candlelight as it danced around the room. Her scent shifted toward minerals, and Trip was suddenly glad for shore leave, and that no one would be looking for either of them for another month, at least.

"Vulcan males don't kiss." She leaned in, and planted one on him. That got him stirred up, and she sidled in closer, neuropressure apparently forgotten. "Nor do they embrace, or caress - "She stretched against him, then arched slowly back, her eyes half-lidded and inviting. When he came to her, her hand darted out, tickling his ribs. She's not finished. Her mouth softens, and she says, "They neither smile nor laugh. Their eyes don't sparkle, and they don't have dimples." Her hands trace down his body, and she makes a soft little moan. "I'm quite certain that none of them have ever 'made love'."

There's nothing else to say for a while that can't be said with bodies and minds. But, as they're lying there, still on the deck, catching their breath, she inhales deeply and says, "They don't smell like you." She snuggles in close, a leg and an arm thrown across him, claiming him with her body. She lays her head in her favorite spot on his chest. "And their hearts could never sing me a lullaby'..."

Trip thought about all they'd been through, and all she still faced. Phlox hadn't found any way to rid her of the need for trellium, or any way to minimize the damage it would do to her, when she ingested it. He wished he'd never sensitized her to the poison, wished she'd never set foot on the Seleya, even if that meant the others hadn't made it out. Damn, he was going to miss her while she was away!