Chapter Four

See earlier chapters for disclaimer.

****

The next morning, Trip entered the lift to go to the bridge. Just as the door closed, a hand popped in and blocked it from shutting. To his relief, the hand belonged to Jon, not Hoshi.

"Good morning," Jon said cheerfully.

"Mornin'." He'd reserve his opinion on the 'good' part.

"You feeling ok?" Jon asked him as the door closed again. The lift started to move.

"Yeah. It's just…have you noticed anything, well, weird about some of the crew?"

"What do you mean?"

Trip could feel his face getting red, and he avoided Jon's gaze. "Well, some of the women. Do they seem a little, I don't know, aggressive?" he asked, looking at the doors with great interest.

Jon turned to face him. "For example?"

Trip faced him so quickly that the Captain started. Trip talked fast as it burst out of him. "Well, Hoshi is…chasing me. And the really weird thing is that I can't get her outta my head. I think about her all the time. And not the kinda thoughts that are fittin' to a commanding officer, if ya know what I mean."

Jon's face showed stern concern. "Trip…"

"It's not jus' me, Cap'n. Last night, me an' Malcolm an' Travis all but got chased out of the movie by Hoshi and some of the other women."

"And you're telling me that these crewmembers…that Hoshi," Jon said with a laugh, "is pursuing you? Trip, that sounds a little farfetched, don't you think? Hoshi?"

Trip was ready to argue but the lift had stopped. The doors opened to reveal Hoshi and T'Pol standing close together near the lift. The women raised their heads in unison and pinned Trip and Jon with their gazes. Hoshi smiled.

Jon and Trip each took a step back. They stood staring until the door started to close on them, snapping Jon's attention back. He squared his shoulders and caught the door, stepping onto the bridge. Trip followed behind, doing his best to keep Jon between him and Hoshi. Her eyes stayed on him while he hurried over to Malcolm's station.

T'Pol moved to intercept Jon. She stood close enough to whisper to him. Instead, she said in a normal tone, "We will be arriving at our destination in twenty-six hours."

Safe behind Malcolm, Trip paid half a mind to his work while keeping an eye on the bridge. While he watched, Jon eased himself around T'Pol and went to stand beside his chair. She was looking at the Captain expectantly.

"Great," Jon said. "Can't wait."

She stepped up and held out a data PADD. "I have taken the liberty of reviewing some of the customs of the Rashila people. I have compiled an appropriate list of crewmembers for a landing party."

Jon reached out to take it. Before relinquishing it, she placed her other hand on his wrist as if to steady herself. Trip's eyebrows involuntarily rose so high he suspected they might have disappeared into his hairline. He glanced at Malcolm and found the Lieutenant discreetly watching T'Pol and the Captain as well.

Meanwhile, the Captain appeared to be staring at T'Pol's mouth as she continued. "I have also arranged for some of the crew to prepare suitable clothing for us." 

"I thought you said the Vulcans hadn't been in contact with these species," Jon said, curious.

"No. But we have studied them from a distance. Our visit will indeed be the first contact for them." She tipped her head, staring up at him. Very softly she added, "Jonathon."

Trip failed to suppress a little gurgle of surprise. It caught the Captain's attention, and Jon looked over at Malcolm and Trip. They immediately became engrossed in Malcolm's console.

"Commander," Jon said. "You have the bridge. Subcommander, I need to speak with you in my ready room."

He led the way, and T'Pol followed without comment. As they walked by Trip, the Commander held up one hand and wiggled one finger to remind Jon about the odd jewelry. Jon pretended not to notice.

Trip watched them disappear into the ready room. 'Bout time. Maybe we can start figuring this out. The door shut and he faced forward again. His eyes met Hoshi's. She smiled. Her face was lit up, cheeks pink, eyes bright. She looked kind of…glowy.

His face flushed. But he felt compelled to smile back at her.

"Commander, I've been having some trouble with the UT for a few days. Could you take a look?"

His whole system went into hyperdrive—with the possible exception of his brain. With a huge grin plastered across his face, he walked over to her station.

**

In the Captain's ready room, Jon took a seat. He gestured for T'Pol to sit down across from him. To his surprise, and further unease, she did so without argument.

"T'Pol," he began, getting straight to the point, "have you noticed any unusual behavior among the crew?"

"Can you define unusual?"

Now Jon felt embarrassed. "Well…among some of the women crewmembers. You yourself, for instance, seem to be acting differently." At her inquisitive look, he tried to define it better. "You're wearing jewelry. You're allowing more physical contact than usual. T'Pol, you called me Jonathon. Twice."

"Was that inappropriate?"

"On the bridge? Hell, yes. But you've never done it even privately. Why now?"

"As I said, I am attempting several human social customs. I have noticed that Commander Tucker sometimes uses your first name."

"Well, yes…"

T'Pol leaned forward in her seat, bringing her face very close to his.

"Would you prefer that I revert to using your title when I speak to you?"

Her body heat, as usual, was intense. But he had never found it this distracting before. He broke eye contact with her. "No, of course not. But when we are on duty, call me 'Captain'."

"Of course, Captain," she said. If he didn't know better, he would have said her tone was mocking. He stood up and she mirrored his action, so that they stood inches apart. He looked down into dark eyes. Again, he saw just a hint of emotion, one that he couldn't name.

"T'Pol," he started.

"Yes, Captain?" She reached up and ran her hand across his shoulder, as if to brush away dust. Part of his mind registered that this was a strange action for her to take, but the dominant part was nearly overcome with a desire to slide his hands over her body and pull her to him.

"May I go?" She startled him with her question. And because he suddenly didn't trust himself with her, he nodded. She turned and left.

Jon stood for a moment, trying to catch his breath and slow his heart rate. Think about the next mission… Once the heat in his body had cooled, he strode back onto the bridge.

The first thing he saw was his Chief Engineer wrapped around his Communications Officer. He had her bent back over the console, for God's sake, and she was responding in kind, hands all over him. Malcolm and Travis were gaping at the pair speechlessly; T'Pol was nowhere in sight.

"COMMANDER!" Archer roared. He was horrified by Tucker's behavior—partly because of how close his own thoughts had strayed to similar actions moments before.

Trip was out of Hoshi's grasp before Archer could blink. Face fire-engine red, the Commander looked even more shocked than Jon felt. "I'm sorry," Trip gasped. "I don't…I'm sorry." He was apologizing to everyone in the room.

Flabbergasted, Jon bought himself some time. "Commander Tucker and Ensign Sato, return to your duties. I want to see you both in my ready room when this shift is over."

"Aye, sir," they answered. Tucker's voice was confused—Hoshi only sounded satisfied.

Jon stumbled back into his ready room. It wasn't until he was seated again that he realized that T'Pol had never answered his question about the female crewmembers.

**

Jon sat in his ready room, rubbing his eyes.

The entire day had been a disaster, starting with the weird conversation with T'Pol. During the course of the shift, he'd had to chase Ensign Cutler away from Malcolm's post twice—the second time, Malcolm nearly followed her off the bridge before Jon intervened.

After Travis didn't come back from lunch, Jon had stopped in the Mess Hall for a sandwich and found him spooning pudding into Ensign Lourdes mouth. They were so wrapped up in each other that Jon had been forced to call them three times before either noticed him. At which point Lourdes smiled sweetly and Travis bolted like a rabbit.

To top the day off, T'Pol had reappeared on the bridge two hours before the shift ended. Jon instantly lost all track of what the crew was doing, his thoughts completely centered on her and the way her skin was glowing. Damn, that uniform fit her well.

He briefly remembered himself when Trip came skulking out of the lift behind T'Pol, eyes on Hoshi. The Commander stepped out cautiously before he glanced over and made eye contact with Jon. One look from the Captain, and he just stepped back into the lift, letting the door close behind him. Before it shut, Hoshi wiggled her fingers at him and winked.

Jon promptly forgot to reprimand her when T'Pol walked past, brushing against him. His skin tingled and blood rushed to inappropriate places. He beat a hasty retreat to his ready room, where he hid for the remainder of the shift, doing his best to not think about T'Pol…not her legs…not her lips…not the way she looked with decon gel rubbed all over her bare skin…Dammit.

His door rang, a welcome distraction. Knowing whom it would be, he said, "Enter," and stood to wait.

Trip sidled past him, quickly moving behind the desk. Hoshi sashayed in next, startling Jon. She looked like sex personified, yet exactly the same. Both men flushed and looked at each other.

Trip mouthed, "See?"

Clearing his throat, Jon nodded at them both and jumped right into it.

"I understand that we have been on this ship a very long time," he said. T'Pol's image darted through his mind. He squashed the thought and continued. "But what happened on the bridge today was completely inappropriate. Unbelievably inappropriate. So far out of the bounds of appropriate…"

"We get your point, Cap'n," Trip interrupted.

Jon wheeled on him, snapping, "I'm not sure you do, Commander. I can't believe there's even a need for me to have this conversation, but obviously there is." He paused and added, "If you two are going to become involved, you're going to have to show some discretion."

He looked back at Trip. The Commander was smiling at Hoshi now. They were both slowly moving toward the other. Jon stuck out his hand, stopping Trip's progress.

"Throwing people over consoles isn't what I would describe as discreet, COMMANDER." Jon raised his voice again.

Trip looked sheepish. He focused his gaze on a spot just beyond Jon's ear.

Jon turned to Hoshi, raising his eyebrows in a gesture of 'am I making myself clear?'.

Her gaze flitted past him, and she actually leaned around him to look at Trip. She smiled. Seeing them look at each other that way reminded him of T'Pol. Immediately he felt guilty.

Aloud, he said, "So what do you two think we should do about this problem?"

Hoshi looked back at him, saying, "I'm sorry for any disturbance this caused, Captain. Perhaps you should speak to Subcommander T'Pol about disciplining us." Her eyes gleamed with amusement.

Jon flushed. He could have sworn that she just read his mind. He attempted to regain control of the conversation.

"Maybe so. Until then, the two of you are confined to quarters." He looked back at Trip for confirmation but he was watching Hoshi's chest.

Jon sighed loudly.

"Hoshi, I want you to see Dr. Phlox as soon as you leave here. Have him take a good look at you and that ring."

"Yes, sir," Hoshi answered.

"Fine. You're dismissed. And stay away from each other for now. Are we clear?"

Trip came out of his daze long enough to nod, and Hoshi walked out, the door swishing behind her.

Trip turned with a groan and banged his head on the window.

Jon walked over, patting his shoulder reassuringly. "We'll get through this, Trip. Hopefully."

Trip lifted his head and glared. "What do you mean, we?"

"Nothing," Jon said quickly, jumping back from his friend. "Now, I believe you're supposed to be in your quarters."

To his relief, Trip only nodded and left, plainly lost in his own thoughts.

***

"Charlie."

Trip mumbled in his sleep, releasing his dreams reluctantly. All night since returning to his cabin, his subconscious had treated him to a lengthy display of Hoshi's assets. Hoshi in her uniform, Hoshi in red silk, Hoshi out of red silk. Soft skin. He had never had such distinct dreams—he could even taste her skin—slightly salty, slick with sweat.

Eyes closed, he moaned.

"Charlie…"

The whispering was starting to draw him out now. But in his dreams, Hoshi was tracing his lips lightly with her tongue. She tasted like cinnamon toothpaste.

He sighed and grudgingly opened his eyes. At which point he realized that the weight on his chest wasn't a dream—no more than the taste of cinnamon toothpaste. Hoshi Sato was stretched out beside him in his bunk, leaning over his chest and carefully tasting his mouth.

A part of him was startled, but not enough to pull back right away. His hands trailed up her body and he kissed her back softly. He'd thought about this almost from the time he'd met Hoshi, in the very back of his mind. Watched her mouth pronounce an unusual word or smile or frown in annoyance. She had such full lips—what would they feel like against his mouth…or other places? The thought would sneak up on him, before he had a chance to filter it out.

Now that he had his answer, all he could think was damn, and try not to whimper with pleasure. Out loud, anyway.

She leaned back after a minute and he blinked at her sleepily. Reality was starting to sharpen again; the borders between dreams and life coming back up. "What're you doing in here?" he asked huskily, more curious than upset.

She smiled, shifting against him. "I needed to see you. Couldn't let you forget about me."

Trip laughed. "Right. I don't think you have to worry 'bout that." He stroked her back while he talked. He couldn't see the color, but she was definitely wearing something silky.

Even in the dim light, he could see her smile. "Good," she said simply. She slid one leg over his legs.

He liked the way her scent—cinnamon, soap, Hoshi—mixed with the familiar smell of his quarters. He really liked what she was doing to his bare chest with her mouth. And he was having a hard time remembering why this was so wrong…

He pulled her up so that she settled over the length of his body, and kissed her. Her weight felt just right. Her hair tickled his face and he used one hand to catch it and push it back over her shoulders, surprised at how heavy it was. Hoshi kissed him back deeply, seeming to relish his taste as much as he did hers.

He was practically panting when she pushed back, smiling down at him.

"I have to go."

Instantly Trip was embarrassed. He sat up, forcing Hoshi to scoot off of him and down to the end of the bed. "You're right…I'm sorry, Hosh, I shouldn't have…"

He paused and looked at her, smiling at him. He couldn't stop himself from saying, "Don't go."

"It isn't time yet, Charlie."

Trip rubbed a hand over his face, sighing. "Then why are you here?"

She glanced away, hesitated. "I wanted to see you. I like to be with you. I like you."

The shyness in her response was closer to the old Hoshi then anything she'd said to him in the last 24 hours, and he was unsure of how to answer.

She didn't wait for him to reply. She stood up and walked towards the door. Trip jumped out of bed, hurrying to catch her arm. She turned back to face him willingly.

"Hoshi, do you know what's going on? Is this about us or somethin' else? The rings?"

She shrugged, smiling at him the way she might if he'd asked if she'd wanted eggs for breakfast, instead of what suddenly seemed like the most important question of his life.

"Both." She stood on tiptoed and drew his head down for a kiss that got his body humming again. Releasing him, she said, "I'm glad it's you. I wanted it to be you."

"What…"

"Good night, Charlie." She took three steps and was out of his door.

He could've gone after her. He didn't, because he was unexpectedly afraid to ask the questions swimming in his head. Finding out the truth would be the first step in setting things back the way they were. Trip just wasn't sure if he wanted to do that anymore.