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Chapter 11Trip stirred in his sleep and woke. For a moment he was disoriented—what was that funny sound? Feeling the warmth of bare skin at his back, and the weight of a small arm around his waist, he smiled. 'So, Hoshi snores, huh?' He grinned to himself, thinking of the fun he was going to have with that information. Not to mention the fun he'd have making up with her afterwards.
He stayed still in the dark, content to hear her breathing behind him, relishing the newness of having her in his bed. Definitely something he could get used to.
His stomach rumbled lightly, reminding him that he'd skipped dinner. He squinted at the clock. Four hours until his shift started. Plenty of time to get a snack, and then return to bed to wake Hoshi…properly.
He slipped out of bed, moving gingerly so as not to wake her. Not that it mattered; she was dead to the world. He smiled and brushed his hand over her hair before grabbing for a pair of pants and a T-shirt. Quietly, he opened his door and headed down the hall, padding in bare feet.
**
A few minutes later, he entered the mess hall, grateful to find it empty. He walked through the darkened room to the food dispensers. Grabbing a cup of coffee, he was looking for pastries when he noticed a movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned and yelped, splashing coffee over his hand. "Man, for cripe's sake, Malcolm, ya scared the bejeesus outta me. What the hell are you doin'?
Malcolm sat quietly in a dark corner, watching him. His hand rested around a glass of amber liquid on the table in front of him. Seeing him like that, Trip felt a twinge of guilt.
"Good evening, Commander. Although I suppose good morning would be more appropriate," Malcolm said flatly, sipping from his drink.
"Malcolm, what are ya doin' in here?"
To his surprise, Malcolm was blunt. "Hoshi came to see me today."
"Oh."
"I take it she's already spoken with you about her decision." Trip didn't answer, and Malcolm smiled sardonically. He raised his glass in a toast. "Well, congratulations, Commander. I think we can honestly say the best man won."
"Aw, now hold on. It's not a question of who's the better man, you know that." As much as the guy had bugged him recently, Trip couldn't stand to see anyone in pain. He walked over and took the seat across from Malcolm. "Hoshi and me, we just…I guess it was just meant to be, is all." Malcolm winced. "There's somebody out there for you, ya just gotta be patient. Hell, have a little fun while you're waitin'."
Malcolm didn't answer, and Trip grinned. "Although, I gotta admit, ya gave me a run for my money." He could afford to be generous, he decided, seeing that he'd already won.
Malcolm stared at him for a moment. A soft chuckle started deep in his throat, and he gave Trip a half-smile, gesturing to the bottle. "Care to join me, Trip?"
"Don't mind if I do," Trip replied. He grabbed a cup from the dispenser and returned to his chair, pouring a glassful from the half-empty bottle on the table. He took a huge gulp, and sat the glass back down, making a face.
"Malcolm."
"Yes?"
"This is tea."
"Well, yes. I am on duty today. What did you expect it to be?"
Trip laughed out loud at Malcolm's puzzled expression. He clapped Malcolm on the shoulder and sat back. "It's good to know some things never change."
Malcolm grinned. "You know, you've been missing your training sessions. We have one set for tomorrow; are you planning to be there?"
"Well…"
"Because from what I've seen, you need all of the help you can get."
"What?! Buddy, you're delusional. I oughta be givin' you lessons."
"Perhaps, if you consider sucker punches a fundamental part of self-defense. I think you're forgetting who came out of our scraps the worse for the wear, my friend."
They continued like that—talking, laughing and insulting each other—for almost thirty minutes, both men relieved to be putting their recent tension behind them.
Suddenly, Trip gasped and jumped to his feet. "Oh shit, what time is it?" He glanced at the clock and swore again. "Damn." He hurried over to the dispensers, opening doors. "I gotta grab some food and get back to…" He stopped short, casting a guilty look over his shoulder. Malcolm turned his head to look out the window.
"Malcolm…"
Malcolm faced him again. "Trip, I want you to know I consider you a friend. And I don't take that lightly." He looked at his friend somberly. "But I also feel I must warn you—don't break her heart. Because if you do, I will be there to pick up the pieces."
The room was silent, the lighthearted mood of before now broken. Before either man could speak again, the mess hall door slid open. T'Pol entered the room, stopping short when she saw them. "Good morning, Commander. Lieutenant."
"Subcommander," Malcolm nodded, sitting up straighter.
Trip turned his attention to T'Pol. "Mornin', T'Pol." He watched her collect tea, reminding him of his task. He suddenly realized he had no idea what Hoshi would choose—what had he seen her eat in the morning? He poked through the fruit, trying to remember.
Meanwhile, T'Pol started to take her leave. She paused and turned back to Malcolm.
"Lieutenant." Malcolm looked at her expectantly. "The training plan you designed for the crew was quite…efficient." Raving praise coming from a Vulcan. "However, I do have some suggestions I wish to discuss with you. Are you available to meet me for a meal this evening?"
"Ah, um, yes. Yes, of course, Subcommander. Dinner would be fine."
"Fine. I will see you at 1900 hours." She left, leaving two open-mouthed Starfleet officers in her wake.
The second the door closed, Trip said, "Did she…did I just hear what I think I heard?"
Malcolm shook himself. "She only wants to discuss defense training. Don't read too much into it, Trip."
Trip walked over to his table, dropping a plate of Danish if front of him. "Yeah. Well, just in case, you better eat somethin'. It ain't the rabbit food you're used to, but you might need the extra calories."
Malcolm snorted, and Trip winked, walking towards the door while trying to balance a mountainous plate of food and two coffees. When the Commander reached the door, he turned back.
"Hey Malcolm…about tonight? Be afraid. Be very afraid." He laughed and ducked out the door, just avoiding the roll that Malcolm hurtled after him.
Alone again, Malcolm sat back in his seat. A little grin crept across his face as he contemplated the Danish. 'Hmm.' He reached over and picked up a pineapple pastry, grinning as he bit into it.
'Just in case.'
***
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