T'Pol
She emerges from the shower on slightly shaky legs and he wraps a towel around her from behind, enclosing her in his arms and bending to kiss her neck. She relaxes against him, thinks of her trellium fuelled dream of him in the shower and is glad she has overwritten that memory with the real thing. There is certainly immeasurable pleasure from the experience. She turns in the circle of his arms and presses her mouth against his, taking his tongue into her mouth, wrapping her arms around his neck. She breaks the kiss and runs gentle kisses along his jaw then rests her head on his shoulder. He pulls her closer and they stay like that for a minute, enjoying the closeness.
"I'll go get some breakfast ready while you get dressed." He kisses her forehead and pats her bottom. "My menu options are pretty limited at the moment. I may be able to dig up some oatmeal, otherwise all I have that would suit you is bread and apples." As he says this he shucks off his towel and moves into the bedroom to pull on a pair of sweat pants.
She stands for a moment and looks at herself in the mirror. She feels like a different person than she was a year ago it amazes her that she still looks the same. She is startled out of her introspection by the ringing doorbell. She hears Trip move across the living room and open the front door.
"Natalie!" She can hear the surprise in his voice. "What are you doing here?" She recognises the name. It's his old girlfriend. She didn't think they were in contact anymore.
"I heard you were back, I thought I'd come and see how you are." She can hear the flirtatiousness in the woman's voice. The hair on the back of her neck stands up. This is her mate, how dare this woman intrude.
She feels a surge of foolishness. He has made her no promises. She tries to ignore their murmured conversation.
She looks around the small bathroom and realises she left her bag in the living room last night. She stands in the middle of room, wrapped in a towel and wonders what to do. She feels like she should be able to leave this bathroom, go into the living room and get her clothes. She is an invited guest after all. But she hates how exposed she feels by the situation. That by going out there this woman, this stranger, will discern things about her, private things.
She feels panic building in her chest. These sorts of things would not happen to her if she was a proper Vulcan, if she was still able to suppress her emotions, if she had not sought them out.
She looks at herself in the mirror again, she still doesn't look any different. She finally tamps down on the rouge emotions. Logic sets in, she needs her clothes, she is starting to feel cold. It is not any business of this woman where she slept or with whom. She tightens the towel around herself, combs her hair, sets her shoulders and walks out of the bathroom. She doesn't even stop to breathe.
Trip
He almost feels like humming. He pads out into the living room in his bare feet, with his chest bare and notices T'Pol's bag on floor where he dropped it the night before. He thinks he should probably take it to her, she'll need her clothes. Before he he gets any further, the doorbell rings.
His eyes narrow, it's still early and he's not expecting anyone. He opens the door to find himself face to face with someone he hasn't even thought about for a couple of years, let alone seen.
"Natalie!" He doesn't even try to keep the confusion out of his voice. "What are you doing here?"
Her reply has a note of flirtatiousness, her eyes wandering over his bare chest, he wishes he had a shirt on.
"Um, you haven't contacted me for over two years. What brings you here now?" He doesn't feel hostile to her, just indifferent. To be honest he hadn't been that devastated by her Dear John letter two and a half years ago, he just hated failure.
"You know, I always felt bad about the way we ended. I just never knew when I was going to see you." She pushes past him and walks into the living room.
He crosses his arms and sticks his tongue in his cheek. He still can't figure why she's here. She's being kind of pushy. He looks her over, long blonde hair in artful waves, carefully made up, tight jeans. It seems like she's gone to a lot of trouble for eight thirty a.m. on a Saturday. He scratches his head.
"Look, it was always pretty optimistic for us to think we could make it work with light years between us. There were no hard feelings." He doesn't close the door or move from his spot beside it. This just seems suspicious.
"And now you're back, an interstellar hero." She smiles coyly.
He realises that's what it's all about. He's famous and she wants to be linked to it. She moves closer to him and he can smell her perfume, it's cloying and sickly. She raises a hand like she's going to touch him. He moves away and goes and stands next to the sofa.
Her eyes narrow, she notices the bedding folded neatly at the end of the sofa and the bag on the floor, not far away. "Do you have someone staying here?"
Before he can answer, T'Pol emerges from the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, her hair still damp. "I forgot my bag." She informs them emotionlessly, picks up the bag and disappears back into the bathroom.
Natalie's eyes go wide as saucers. "You have the Vulcan staying here! Don't they prefer to stick to their own people?"
"The Vulcan Compound was full, T'Pol needed a place to stay." He thanks the gods for the blankets on the sofa and the bag in the living room suggesting that she slept out here. T'Pol would hate to have her private life exposed.
"Surely she could have stayed at Starfleet. You shouldn't need to put yourself out for her, it's not like her people would have done the same for you." He can hear the disdain in her voice. His anger comes to the surface.
"Firstly it's not an inconvenience to invite a friend to crash at your place. Secondly, I can't speak for Vulcan, but T'Pol did put herself out for us, in a big way. She nearly died for us in expanse, several times. Finally, if you consider me an interstellar hero, then you better consider her one too. Because we wouldn't have made it without her."
He moves over and stands by the door, indicating she should leave. She walks past him but turns before she exits. "You know Trip, you need to ask yourself what aliens have ever done for Earth, apart from killing your sister. We don't owe them anything, not even a couch to sleep on." He slams the door behind her.
He feels like he's been punched it the guts. He's spent the last three years seeing two aliens daily. They have both saved his life on several occasions. He considers one his friend and he thinks he might be in love with the other. He's come to realise that even the Xindi, who he wanted to exterminate a couple of months ago, are just people. He finds it hard to comprehend, that he can get over what the Xindi did, but the rest of Earth can't. For the first time he considers that his relationship with T'Pol may be a greater source of trouble than just fraternisation.
He walks over to the bathroom door and knocks gently. "T'Pol, are you okay in there?"
The door opens. She emerges dressed in her catsuit, carrying her bag, spine so stiff it's like it was cast in concrete. "I apologise if I have made things awkward for you with your... friend. I can contact Captain Archer and enquire if he can arrange accommodations for me at Starfleet."
He runs a hand through his hair. "Please don't do that." He begs. He grabs her arms desperate to communicate to her. "Natalie, is not a friend. I haven't heard anything from her for over two years. She's just someone that I used to know who thought she could use an old connection to link herself to one of the 'Hero's of the Expanse." He takes a deep shaky breath. "I really want you to stay with me."
She stands there for a moment, staring at him with her eyes wide. Finally she speaks. "I will stay if it does not inconvenience you."
He laughs releasing tension. "Trust me darlin', having you here is about as far from inconvenient as it's possible to get." He pulls her into a hug, she doesn't relax into it like she did in the bathroom. He feels as though the fragile comfort that had existed between them, just ten minutes ago, has been shattered by Natalie's visit. He steps away from her and takes hers hands. "Hey, are we okay?"
She looks away for a moment, then speaks. "I have no experience with a relationship of this nature. On Vulcan a child is betrothed at age seven. There is no dating or previous partners to negotiate. I have no cultural knowledge to call on to navigate this situation."
He snorts and squeezes her hands. "Trust me, there's no amount of cultural knowledge that makes exes any easier to navigate." He lets go of one hand and starts leading her to the kitchen. "Come on, let's get some breakfast. We have a busy day ahead."
She looks confused. "We are not on duty today."
He grins "I know, busy doin' nothin', that is."
The ease between them returns while he prepares breakfast. They talk about non consequential things. The repairs to Enterprise, the de-briefing schedule, until he turns to find her reading Lizzy's note. He feels the familiar tightness in his throat.
She looks at him, compassion evident in her eyes. "You saw this for the first time yesterday?"
He nods, her insight is startling. "I didn't come back here before we left for the expanse."
He looks at him intently. "I grieve with thee." Such simple words but it feels like she really does.
They take their breakfast out onto the balcony and sit in the weak sunshine of early spring. He puts on a sweater and loans her a sweatshirt, he smiles at her in the oversized top with its Starfleet insignia.
The conversation starts when she tells him that the city skyline on the note looks much like that of ShiKahr her home city on Vulcan. He's not sure what prompts it, perhaps the note, but he starts to talk about Lizzy. He hasn't told her much about his lost sister. It always seemed too raw before. He talks about Lizzy's compulsion to create, her interest in all types of architecture that would have prompted her to hear the Vulcan lectures, her passion for design. She in turn tells him something of her spurned fiancé, also an architect, but a person who would never be mentioned in the same sentence as passion.
He talks about his childhood, all his siblings and his parents. Takes out photos and shows her, where he grew up, his family, his home that is no longer there. She responds with her own memories of childhood. Her pet sehlat, the symmetry of minds she felt with her father, her struggle to retain her logic after his death, the dissonance in her relationship with her mother. He notices that she uses non emotional words but is essentially describing emotions. He feels like he is starting to understand her.
He's not sure when or how it happens but at some point she crawls into his lap and snuggles into him. Perhaps seeking the comfort of his warmth, perhaps his touch. Holding each other close, her head resting on his shoulder, they sit together in silence, watching the boats in the bay, and just breathe.
XXX