CHAPTER 4: And Smother My Breath So You May Rest
AUTHOR: MNEMOSYNE
RATING: R, for violence and some language
CATEGORY: Angst, Drama, Romance, Action, Deathfic
CODES: R/S (heavy on the R) with touches of everyone
FIVE DAYS EARLIER
CRASH!
"Bloody-!" Malcolm yelped as he stumbled out of Chef's kitchen, arms held up to protect himself. "Chef, it's only a glorified toaster! Can't it wait?"
A well-aimed spatula narrowly missing his head was all the answer he needed.
"Fine, fine!" he said hurriedly. "I'll inform the captain!"
Trip Tucker was leaning against a table in the Mess Hall as Malcolm rushed away from the kitchen. The engineer looked just as wild-eyed as Malcolm was feeling. "D'you get the wooden spoon treatment, too?" he asked.
"Spatula, actually." Malcolm ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. "I don't understand it. The power converter on the UltraToast shorted, and he makes it seem like Armageddon itself is upon us."
"I know," Trip agreed, nodding. "He called me in to try and DUCK!"
Malcolm frowned. "Duck?"
Trip grabbed his shoulder and yanked him down, just in time to miss being hit by another well-aimed kitchen utensil; this time, an industrial strength egg whisk.
"I think he heard yer Armageddon comment," Trip whispered as they crouched beneath the edge of the table.
"So it would seem." Malcolm rolled his eyes. "This is ridiculous, Trip. We're cowering like a couple of schoolboys."
"Chef's powerful proud of his kitchen, Mal."
"He's assaulting senior officers!"
"Art doesn't answer to an officer."
"Commander, he's a CHEF. He cooks FOOD, not art."
"RUN!"
Malcolm just had time to register that Trip was dragging him bodily towards the door before he was hit full on with something gooey, yellow and very, very cold.
"What-! Well, I never-!" he sputtered as Trip hauled him into the corridor and they collapsed together against the wall. "What did he hit me with!" For a moment, Malcolm was terrified that the chef might have hit him with some sort of chemical weapon.
Trip glared at him. "It's tapioca pudding, ya moron." The engineer reached around and smacked Malcolm across the back of the head. "Next time you go sayin' Chef's food ain't art, try and do it when he AIN'T within strikin' distance, all right?" Trip made a face and wiped his hands on the legs of his uniform. "Now I've gotta go change. Ya got puddin' all over me, you British nit."
Malcolm sniffed indignantly, but the effect was grossly diminished by the fact that he was covered head to toe in tapioca. "Speaking as a human shield, I don't think I feel much sympathy."
"Hardy. Har. Har."
"What in God's name happened to YOU two?"
Malcolm blushed bright red beneath his layer of pudding, and he could see that Trip was flushing a little as well. "Hello, luv."
Hoshi Sato stood before the two men, arms crossed, eyebrow arched, foot tapping. "Trip, have you been getting my husband into food fights again? Because I thought we talked about this."
Malcolm couldn't resist a snicker at Trip's dumbstruck expression. "Huh?" the engineer said. "Wha'? No! It was his fault, Hoshi!" Malcolm rolled his eyes as Trip pointed at him. "He made Chef angry!"
Hoshi's dark, almond-shaped eyes turned towards her husband, and Malcolm swallowed, cockiness forgotten for the moment. "What did you do, Malcolm."
He cleared his throat. "I…might have said…Chef's food wasn't art."
Hoshi's eyes widened. "Are you CRAZY? I'm surprised he didn't douse you in pickle juice for that!"
"He also said Chef was overreacting about the UltraToast shortin' out," Trip said smugly. Malcolm silently cursed the man.
Hoshi's eyes widened even further. "The UltraToast shorted out?"
Malcolm nodded.
Hoshi swallowed and looked nervously at the door to the Mess Hall, as though it were going to jump out and bite her. "Um….let's talk about this somewhere else." She started to hurry away.
"Where are we going?" Malcolm called after her as he and Trip followed.
"I'M going to find the Captain and tell him we have to make a supply run to get Chef a new power converter," she replied.
"Hoshi, I've been trying for a month to get an upgrade on the propulsion system for torpedo tube two," Malcolm said rationally. "Do you really think the captain will go out of his way just to repair a puffed up toaster?"
Hoshi and Trip both winced. "Don't SAY that so loudly!" Hoshi hissed, looking anxiously over her shoulder. "Malcolm, I love you, but sometimes you can be so adorably clueless."
The armory officer chose to ignore that. "Still, I don't understand how you think we'll be able to get Captain Archer-"
"I never said anything about we, Malcolm."
Malcolm frowned. "But, Trip and I-"
"Correction," Hoshi cut in. "Trip and I will go to the captain."
"What about me?" Malcolm asked, more than a little miffed.
Hoshi laughed and stopped. "YOU are going back to our cabin and changing your uniform," she said with an affectionate smile. Running the tip of her index finger down his chest, she brought it to her mouth and licked it. "Mmm, pudding," she teased, and winked at him.
Malcolm blushed. She was the only person he'd ever known who could make him blush so easily. "Ah. Right. Tapioca."
Trip repeated Hoshi's action, this time sampling some of the gooey substance off the lieutenant's sleeve. "Mmm-mm!" he enthused. "Damn, Malcolm. That was a good batch, and Chef went and wasted it on you. That's a cryin' shame." He started to reach out again, but Malcolm smacked his hand away.
"Yes, yes, you two, that's enough!" he snapped. "I'm not a snack bar, thank you very much." Stiffening his back, he nodded to them. "You two go see the Captain, and I'll go change into something more befitting an officer."
"Oatmeal cookies?" Trip asked.
Malcolm gave him a withering glance. "To quote you so recently, Commander: Hardy. Har. Har."
Hoshi laughed and leaned forward to peck her husband on the cheek. "Go on," she said with a smile. "Trip and I had better get to the Captain before he goes to Chef and asks for poached eggs on toast. That won't be a pretty sight."
The three of them shuddered in unison.
"I'll see you later," Hoshi whispered near his ear, then led Trip away to find Captain Archer.
Malcolm sighed and watched them go, then looked down at himself. After a second, he took a sample of the pudding from his mid-torso and brought it to his lips. "Hmm," he said approvingly. "Quite nice."
He began to stride purposefully down the corridor, headed for the cabin he shared with Hoshi, but quickly realized it was impossible to stride purposefully when one was covered head to toe with pudding. So he changed midstride and chose, instead, to AMBLE purposefully, forcing himself to resist the urge to snack on his uniform along the way.