Title: Insomnia
Author: Pretzelduck
Disclaimer: Guess what? I don't own the Star Trek franchise. Paramount does. I don't really own very many things. It's kinda pathetic.
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I'm supposed to be sleeping. It's not that I'm not exhausted enough to rest but it's that I have far too much to think about. My mind is moving too fast for it to realize that it should stop. Nights that I get more than five hours of sleep are a rarity for me so one would think I would be accustomed to insomnia by now. But this is a different kind of sleepless night. I'm not alone.
This is not the first time I've shared my bed with someone else. But this is the first time I've shared a bed with someone I love. It snuck up on me, in a way. Love did. But it's there. Deep and true. We're spooned together and his arms are around wrapped around me. One of his hands is directly over my heart and everything feels so right. If I shift positions even a little, he pulls tighter against him. It's like he's afraid I'm going to leave.
That is…was my fear. Jon leaving me. I've never been in an actual relationship before. Having sex with another person is one thing. A relationship implies certain things. Like a bearing the soul type of trust. Talking. It's not natural for me. But in the silence, when others before him have gotten fed up and frustrated, Jon stayed. I wonder if I'll be able to explain to him just what that means to me. I doubt it. But my instinct tells me that he knows. Somehow, he knows. It's one of the reasons I love him so much. Another? His persistence. He keeps fighting me; he refuses to accept the façade. He knows that's what it is, too. A façade. Fake. Jon doesn't push to me to go far too fast for my hesitant self. Like right now.
We're in my quarters. Despite the fact that his are bigger and most likely, more comfortable, Jon simply accepted the fact that I would be more comfortable here. And I am. His quarters would make it more real. I know it is. I can feel his even breathing against my cheek, his bare chest pressed up against my back, his legs possessively tangled with mine. But here, I know that it's just Jon and Malcolm. He's never been here. Not as Captain Archer, anyway. Only Jon has been in my quarters. Every time I've been in his, it has been on a professional basis. I know that will eventually change but for the first time, my quarters make it just one spot easier to drop the façade. This is the only place I did. Until Jon, that is. Besides, not that I'll admit it to him, Porthos causes my allergies to act up a bit. Perhaps I should speak to Dr. Phlox about that. Knowing the doctor, it will strain his restraint to the limit to not ask the reason why I want a vaccination against the captain's dog. On the other hand, he'll ask anyway.
But it's not Dr. Phlox's curiosity that is keeping me awake. I wonder just how many crewmembers have witnessed and noticed me and Jon's little dance tonight. Not our dance in the dining room. I still can't believe I actually told him about taking ballet. But the dance that is preventing me from sleeping is the revolving door of the captain's dining room. Me, Jon, and Commander Tucker coming and going until Jon and I left. Together. We walked through the mess hall. Together. There weren't a great deal of people in there because of all of the repairs to the ship just finishing up, the bizarre shift schedule because of it, and the overall need for sleep by the whole crew. Jon and I, included. But there were still people. How many saw us? How many questioned it? I don't like not knowing things like that. It's part of my job to be aware of everything going on. Paranoia, Mr. Tucker calls it.
We walked through the corridors together doing our best to carry on some semblance of a work-related conversation. Keeping it up was difficult for me. I've never been very good at play acting like that. Accents and disguises, yes. But this was personal. Very personal. Hopefully, it worked. We kept talking like that until we entered my quarters. The instant we were through the doors, Jon pulled me close for a kiss. The kind of kiss that takes a person a moment to recover from. The kind that causes all coherent thought to leave my mind.
If my mind had been capable of rational thought, it wouldn't have allowed my body to yawn only seconds after Jon and I parted. I feared for a moment he would be disappointed or angry but my yawn was echoed by one from him. I'll probably never forget the look he gave me next. The uncertain vulnerability in his eyes. The simple needy question in them. My brain, still somewhat jumbled, allowed me to only get out, "Stay."
The tired smile that illuminated his face surely matched the one on my face. We undressed slowly until we were both in our regulation boxers. I set an alarm in case we overslept. As gorgeous as Jon is, the sight of him standing beside my bunk in just his boxers almost did me in. I wanted him. Badly. I still do. I always will. But exhaustion won out this night. A little hesitantly, both of us climbed into bed. Within minutes, Jon was asleep. I doubt he's slept very much since the Enterprise was attacked.
But as tired as I am, I still can't sleep. The questions are racing through my mind at a speed that would make the warp engines jealous. What's next? What will happen? How will this work…Jon is the captain and I serve under his command. I'm fairly sure that we've broken a few regulations. Oddly enough, that doesn't seem to bother me. Regulations are meant to be enforced, I believe that completely. But I love him. For a reason I probably never be able to articulate, that is more important than anything else. Even regulations. What about the crew? Will Jon want to make this a 'public' relationship? I can't keep myself from shuddering a bit at that thought.
"What's wrong, Malcolm?" Jon's sleepy voice intervenes in my thoughts. I should have known. My trembling was enough to wake him.
"Nothing. Go back to sleep."
"Don't give me that. You've been awake this whole time." I'm not going to contest that last part. He knows me too well to believe a lie and besides, I really don't want to lie to Jon.
"I was thinking. That's all." Not a lie. But not exactly an elaborate truth. I know I'm stalling. It's just that I don't want to start questioning this…us yet. Tonight, I simply want to be with him. In his arms. But Jon won't take that as an answer. Not that I thought he would. Gently but forcefully, he turns me over so I'm facing him. I love this view. His hazel eyes are boring into mine. Waiting for an explanation. No one else would be this persistent. And I can't help myself.
"What's going to happen now, Jon?"
He pulls me closer to him until my head is resting against his shoulder. Everywhere my bare skin touches his, desire spreads through my body like a wild fire. Bloody distracting. Wonderful but distracting. "What do you want to happen, Malcolm?"
An image of me, him, and a long, private shore leave comes to mind so it takes me a moment to answer somewhat coherently. "You and me. An us."
Not the greatest answer but accurate. "Why do I have a feeling that's not what's keeping you up?"
I pull back a bit so I can get a good look at his face. Jon is smiling at me in a way that says 'I know you better than you think.' And he does. Know me, that is.
"I love you." Once again, I'm stalling but I like being able to say it.
"And I love you. But stop stalling." Damn him. I can think of other…entertaining…ways to distract him but I truly wonder if it would work.
"I was thinking about…the crew and us…public and private us…work and us…Am I making any sense?" I can barely understand myself. He's giving me a patient look. He plants a soft kiss on my lips. Damn him. I can't focus when he does that.
"One day at a time, Malcolm. Right now, we both need sleep." A thought pops into my Jon addled brain. Is he stalling, too? Are we both afraid of this conversation? I am. He seems to be.
"Do you realize how many people saw our little act tonight?" I try not to raise my voice. This is conversation that needs to be calm. Not filled my questioning suspicious nature.
"Act? As far as anyone saw or heard, we were having a ship-related discussion."
"I'm not referring to that. I'm talking about the coming and going out of your dining room. The entry is through the mess hall. The rather occupied mess hall. How many do you think put something together?"
"Probably no one." He sounds mildly convincing. And very much awake. I wonder if he is really convinced of that or if I truly am being paranoid about this. Leaning forward a bit, he kisses me playfully on the nose. Not nearly as distracting as before but it is Jonathan Archer. The man is a walking distraction. For me, anyway.
"This time. What about the next time?...I don't really want everyone to know that we're courting." It slips out before I realize exactly what I said. My whole body tenses up involuntarily. What if Jon thinks I'm ashamed of him? I love him. I don't like the idea of everyone knowing my personal life, just yet. I want to enjoy this for a while. I know a secret like this won't keep but I want to keep Jon all to myself as long as I can. I'm about to explain this all to him, to make up for the clumsy way I said it already, when a snort of laughter stops me.
I tilt my head up so I'm looking right into his eyes. His mirth filled eyes. "Courting? Did you just use the word 'courting'?"
I momentarily forget my earlier concern and take offense at his making fun of my vocabulary. "That's exactly what I said. What other word would you rather have me use?"
The laughter drains from his eyes and his face gets that look. It's an odd look. And my favorite of his. It's the exact look he had on his face when he told me that he loved me. Why is he looking at me like that? My vocabulary is hardly a trait I want to be loved for. Well, maybe my accent. I adore Jon's. It's caressing, really...Bloody distracting man.
"I like it. Courting." Sometimes, he thoroughly confuses me. First, he laughs at the word. Then, he decides he likes it. On top of all of this, he doesn't seem too bothered by my slip-up. Great. Now, he's back to laughing.
"Hello, my name is Jonathan Archer and I'm courting Malcolm Reed." All right. What in the world is so bloody funny about the word 'courting'? I'm about to ask when, once again, he kisses me. And quite thoroughly, too. I can feel the flush on my cheeks and can see that same flush mirrored on his. As for the rest of his magnificent body, I'm not looking. Focus, lieutenant.
"I'm just trying to get you to relax, Malcolm. I'm worried, too. To be honest, I don't know what to do. I want to be with you. That's what matters. I don't think that we can be strict with it yet. We'll just have to play it by ear."
Leave to him to make everything make sense in just a few sentences. It's the word 'strict' that does it for me. I'm used to my world being strict and organized. Everything in its place. My very job on this ship is to control chaotic situations. But a relationship cannot be strict like that. It requires flexibility. Especially on my part. The last thing I want to do is ruin this because I couldn't learn to accept a little change. Besides, I can tell that Jon enjoys making me feel off balance. And I like it. Very much.
Jon did accomplish his goal, though. I seem to have forgotten all about my worries. The only thing worth focusing on: Jon. Him and him alone. I love him so much. I like him, I need him, I love him. Only him. As distracting as he is.
Suddenly, I'm feeling very relaxed and quite ready to get a little sleep. The alarm is set for fairly early. Despite his and, perhaps, now my belief in taking care of problems as they come up, I doubt Jon wants to leave my quarters when everyone else is leaving for their shift. It's an assumption but a fairly accurate one, I think.
This time, it's me that kisses Jon briefly before using an unexpected maneuver to catch him off guard for a change. I've pushed him backwards so he's lying on his back. Curling up against his side, I rest my head on his shoulder and contently drape my arm across his chest. His strong arms envelop me and a yawn disguised as a sigh passes through my lips. I feel his lips brush across my forehead. "Good night, Malcolm."
"Good night, luv."
I can feel laughter rumble in his chest. "First, 'courting', now 'luv'." Another kiss on my forehead.
For some reason, I get all nervous again. The endearment just slipped out. "Do you mind?"
His voice does something weird to my insides as it drops to a level that can only called husky. "Not at all."
"All right, then. Good night, luv."
"Good night, my Malcolm."
I feel him tense slightly underneath me. "Is that okay?"
More than okay. The possessiveness of it. I belong to him. And I do.
"Definitely…luv."
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Author: Pretzelduck
Disclaimer: Guess what? I don't own the Star Trek franchise. Paramount does. I don't really own very many things. It's kinda pathetic.
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I'm supposed to be sleeping. It's not that I'm not exhausted enough to rest but it's that I have far too much to think about. My mind is moving too fast for it to realize that it should stop. Nights that I get more than five hours of sleep are a rarity for me so one would think I would be accustomed to insomnia by now. But this is a different kind of sleepless night. I'm not alone.
This is not the first time I've shared my bed with someone else. But this is the first time I've shared a bed with someone I love. It snuck up on me, in a way. Love did. But it's there. Deep and true. We're spooned together and his arms are around wrapped around me. One of his hands is directly over my heart and everything feels so right. If I shift positions even a little, he pulls tighter against him. It's like he's afraid I'm going to leave.
That is…was my fear. Jon leaving me. I've never been in an actual relationship before. Having sex with another person is one thing. A relationship implies certain things. Like a bearing the soul type of trust. Talking. It's not natural for me. But in the silence, when others before him have gotten fed up and frustrated, Jon stayed. I wonder if I'll be able to explain to him just what that means to me. I doubt it. But my instinct tells me that he knows. Somehow, he knows. It's one of the reasons I love him so much. Another? His persistence. He keeps fighting me; he refuses to accept the façade. He knows that's what it is, too. A façade. Fake. Jon doesn't push to me to go far too fast for my hesitant self. Like right now.
We're in my quarters. Despite the fact that his are bigger and most likely, more comfortable, Jon simply accepted the fact that I would be more comfortable here. And I am. His quarters would make it more real. I know it is. I can feel his even breathing against my cheek, his bare chest pressed up against my back, his legs possessively tangled with mine. But here, I know that it's just Jon and Malcolm. He's never been here. Not as Captain Archer, anyway. Only Jon has been in my quarters. Every time I've been in his, it has been on a professional basis. I know that will eventually change but for the first time, my quarters make it just one spot easier to drop the façade. This is the only place I did. Until Jon, that is. Besides, not that I'll admit it to him, Porthos causes my allergies to act up a bit. Perhaps I should speak to Dr. Phlox about that. Knowing the doctor, it will strain his restraint to the limit to not ask the reason why I want a vaccination against the captain's dog. On the other hand, he'll ask anyway.
But it's not Dr. Phlox's curiosity that is keeping me awake. I wonder just how many crewmembers have witnessed and noticed me and Jon's little dance tonight. Not our dance in the dining room. I still can't believe I actually told him about taking ballet. But the dance that is preventing me from sleeping is the revolving door of the captain's dining room. Me, Jon, and Commander Tucker coming and going until Jon and I left. Together. We walked through the mess hall. Together. There weren't a great deal of people in there because of all of the repairs to the ship just finishing up, the bizarre shift schedule because of it, and the overall need for sleep by the whole crew. Jon and I, included. But there were still people. How many saw us? How many questioned it? I don't like not knowing things like that. It's part of my job to be aware of everything going on. Paranoia, Mr. Tucker calls it.
We walked through the corridors together doing our best to carry on some semblance of a work-related conversation. Keeping it up was difficult for me. I've never been very good at play acting like that. Accents and disguises, yes. But this was personal. Very personal. Hopefully, it worked. We kept talking like that until we entered my quarters. The instant we were through the doors, Jon pulled me close for a kiss. The kind of kiss that takes a person a moment to recover from. The kind that causes all coherent thought to leave my mind.
If my mind had been capable of rational thought, it wouldn't have allowed my body to yawn only seconds after Jon and I parted. I feared for a moment he would be disappointed or angry but my yawn was echoed by one from him. I'll probably never forget the look he gave me next. The uncertain vulnerability in his eyes. The simple needy question in them. My brain, still somewhat jumbled, allowed me to only get out, "Stay."
The tired smile that illuminated his face surely matched the one on my face. We undressed slowly until we were both in our regulation boxers. I set an alarm in case we overslept. As gorgeous as Jon is, the sight of him standing beside my bunk in just his boxers almost did me in. I wanted him. Badly. I still do. I always will. But exhaustion won out this night. A little hesitantly, both of us climbed into bed. Within minutes, Jon was asleep. I doubt he's slept very much since the Enterprise was attacked.
But as tired as I am, I still can't sleep. The questions are racing through my mind at a speed that would make the warp engines jealous. What's next? What will happen? How will this work…Jon is the captain and I serve under his command. I'm fairly sure that we've broken a few regulations. Oddly enough, that doesn't seem to bother me. Regulations are meant to be enforced, I believe that completely. But I love him. For a reason I probably never be able to articulate, that is more important than anything else. Even regulations. What about the crew? Will Jon want to make this a 'public' relationship? I can't keep myself from shuddering a bit at that thought.
"What's wrong, Malcolm?" Jon's sleepy voice intervenes in my thoughts. I should have known. My trembling was enough to wake him.
"Nothing. Go back to sleep."
"Don't give me that. You've been awake this whole time." I'm not going to contest that last part. He knows me too well to believe a lie and besides, I really don't want to lie to Jon.
"I was thinking. That's all." Not a lie. But not exactly an elaborate truth. I know I'm stalling. It's just that I don't want to start questioning this…us yet. Tonight, I simply want to be with him. In his arms. But Jon won't take that as an answer. Not that I thought he would. Gently but forcefully, he turns me over so I'm facing him. I love this view. His hazel eyes are boring into mine. Waiting for an explanation. No one else would be this persistent. And I can't help myself.
"What's going to happen now, Jon?"
He pulls me closer to him until my head is resting against his shoulder. Everywhere my bare skin touches his, desire spreads through my body like a wild fire. Bloody distracting. Wonderful but distracting. "What do you want to happen, Malcolm?"
An image of me, him, and a long, private shore leave comes to mind so it takes me a moment to answer somewhat coherently. "You and me. An us."
Not the greatest answer but accurate. "Why do I have a feeling that's not what's keeping you up?"
I pull back a bit so I can get a good look at his face. Jon is smiling at me in a way that says 'I know you better than you think.' And he does. Know me, that is.
"I love you." Once again, I'm stalling but I like being able to say it.
"And I love you. But stop stalling." Damn him. I can think of other…entertaining…ways to distract him but I truly wonder if it would work.
"I was thinking about…the crew and us…public and private us…work and us…Am I making any sense?" I can barely understand myself. He's giving me a patient look. He plants a soft kiss on my lips. Damn him. I can't focus when he does that.
"One day at a time, Malcolm. Right now, we both need sleep." A thought pops into my Jon addled brain. Is he stalling, too? Are we both afraid of this conversation? I am. He seems to be.
"Do you realize how many people saw our little act tonight?" I try not to raise my voice. This is conversation that needs to be calm. Not filled my questioning suspicious nature.
"Act? As far as anyone saw or heard, we were having a ship-related discussion."
"I'm not referring to that. I'm talking about the coming and going out of your dining room. The entry is through the mess hall. The rather occupied mess hall. How many do you think put something together?"
"Probably no one." He sounds mildly convincing. And very much awake. I wonder if he is really convinced of that or if I truly am being paranoid about this. Leaning forward a bit, he kisses me playfully on the nose. Not nearly as distracting as before but it is Jonathan Archer. The man is a walking distraction. For me, anyway.
"This time. What about the next time?...I don't really want everyone to know that we're courting." It slips out before I realize exactly what I said. My whole body tenses up involuntarily. What if Jon thinks I'm ashamed of him? I love him. I don't like the idea of everyone knowing my personal life, just yet. I want to enjoy this for a while. I know a secret like this won't keep but I want to keep Jon all to myself as long as I can. I'm about to explain this all to him, to make up for the clumsy way I said it already, when a snort of laughter stops me.
I tilt my head up so I'm looking right into his eyes. His mirth filled eyes. "Courting? Did you just use the word 'courting'?"
I momentarily forget my earlier concern and take offense at his making fun of my vocabulary. "That's exactly what I said. What other word would you rather have me use?"
The laughter drains from his eyes and his face gets that look. It's an odd look. And my favorite of his. It's the exact look he had on his face when he told me that he loved me. Why is he looking at me like that? My vocabulary is hardly a trait I want to be loved for. Well, maybe my accent. I adore Jon's. It's caressing, really...Bloody distracting man.
"I like it. Courting." Sometimes, he thoroughly confuses me. First, he laughs at the word. Then, he decides he likes it. On top of all of this, he doesn't seem too bothered by my slip-up. Great. Now, he's back to laughing.
"Hello, my name is Jonathan Archer and I'm courting Malcolm Reed." All right. What in the world is so bloody funny about the word 'courting'? I'm about to ask when, once again, he kisses me. And quite thoroughly, too. I can feel the flush on my cheeks and can see that same flush mirrored on his. As for the rest of his magnificent body, I'm not looking. Focus, lieutenant.
"I'm just trying to get you to relax, Malcolm. I'm worried, too. To be honest, I don't know what to do. I want to be with you. That's what matters. I don't think that we can be strict with it yet. We'll just have to play it by ear."
Leave to him to make everything make sense in just a few sentences. It's the word 'strict' that does it for me. I'm used to my world being strict and organized. Everything in its place. My very job on this ship is to control chaotic situations. But a relationship cannot be strict like that. It requires flexibility. Especially on my part. The last thing I want to do is ruin this because I couldn't learn to accept a little change. Besides, I can tell that Jon enjoys making me feel off balance. And I like it. Very much.
Jon did accomplish his goal, though. I seem to have forgotten all about my worries. The only thing worth focusing on: Jon. Him and him alone. I love him so much. I like him, I need him, I love him. Only him. As distracting as he is.
Suddenly, I'm feeling very relaxed and quite ready to get a little sleep. The alarm is set for fairly early. Despite his and, perhaps, now my belief in taking care of problems as they come up, I doubt Jon wants to leave my quarters when everyone else is leaving for their shift. It's an assumption but a fairly accurate one, I think.
This time, it's me that kisses Jon briefly before using an unexpected maneuver to catch him off guard for a change. I've pushed him backwards so he's lying on his back. Curling up against his side, I rest my head on his shoulder and contently drape my arm across his chest. His strong arms envelop me and a yawn disguised as a sigh passes through my lips. I feel his lips brush across my forehead. "Good night, Malcolm."
"Good night, luv."
I can feel laughter rumble in his chest. "First, 'courting', now 'luv'." Another kiss on my forehead.
For some reason, I get all nervous again. The endearment just slipped out. "Do you mind?"
His voice does something weird to my insides as it drops to a level that can only called husky. "Not at all."
"All right, then. Good night, luv."
"Good night, my Malcolm."
I feel him tense slightly underneath me. "Is that okay?"
More than okay. The possessiveness of it. I belong to him. And I do.
"Definitely…luv."
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