A Woman in His Life
Chapter Ten - Frivolity
By Penmom
Author's Notes -- (1) Since this takes place beyond the present cannon - this is AU. (2) tripgrl3 - Hope you like Trip's reaction!, snow queen2 - big words are good!, skye1974 tension is good! Arania - I am glad you are interested, I'll try to keep you interested! AND about the POV - I'm trying to alternate between the characters and Big Thanks to Zane Gray, cool cat, tracy-thenaggingcube, Lowenove, soultoast, skully, chrissie, Admiral Carly Corinthos and plumtuckered
(3) This is short but should be fun! Let me know.
Phlox's lecture continues for the next hour and a half. Long enough for what he's saying (and saying again) to sink in. All the medical explanations in the universe can't quantify what he feels when he's with T'Pol. His grandmother would call it love - no more - no less. Deciding that his theory is good enough for him, he deliberately tunes out much of Phlox's review. To chalk it up to so many neurons and chemicals, well, it just doesn't sit right with him.
He chances a glance at T'Pol as he slumps in his chair, marveling that she is still sitting ramrod straight after forever. As he focuses on her, he realizes that with only a slight effort, he can clearly sense her feelings. They radiate off of her in waves and stand in sharp contrast to her composed posture. She is tense. She is worried. Worried for him. 'Well, I'll be damned' - he thinks.
She fears his anger, his possible displeasure at this thing she has brought down upon him. She fears he will turn away from her.
How could he? Why would he? When she is the only light is his darkness, the only saving grace in this deadly expanse.
He debates the possibility of reaching out to her in some way, but somehow he knows that his touch in this place will only distress her further. It comes to him that if he can feel her emotions perhaps she can feel his too. It would fit with the Doc's assumptions.
He tries to sort it out in his head, just how to do this and can't. 'OK Trip, relax, you can do this.' What did the Doc say about instinctual knowledge - somethin' about Vulcan imprinting bein' relayed to him? Whatever ---, just relax and try again.
Focusing just on the who, not the how - he thinks of his acceptance of her, of the meaning she has gifted him with - he thinks of these feelings over and over as he looks at her for a reaction.
Finally, her brown eyes slide to his. As they make contact he feels a wave of sunshine hit him. She knows. She gets it. That's his girl, he thinks, as he sees her imperceptibly relax against the back of her chair.
Dr. Phlox has the distinct impression that his small audience has been otherwise engaged for quite awhile although neither has gazed away for more than a second or two. As he prepares to close, he raises his voice a bit.
"This is a significant occurrence, Commander Tucker. Given your importance to the crew, I will need to prepare a report for the Captain immediately. I would suggest that you pay the Captain a visit prior its submission.
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
Neither speaks until the doors of the Turbo Lift slide closed. Standing at the controls, T'Pol speaks without turning. "To the Captain's Quarters?"
Before she can press the panel, Trip comes to stand behind her. He loops his right arm around her waist, hunching a bit to place his chin near her left ear as he draws her tense body up against his own.
He whispers in her ear. "Wait, wait just a minute."
His hot breath caresses the tip of her ear and she sighs in response. She leans back allowing him to support her. Her head falls back against his chest as her eyes close.
"Now that's more like it, Honey." He replies running his free hand up and down her slender arm.
"Honey? Honey is a food produced by insects. There are several varieties on Vulcan." Her words cheer him. Encountering her sense of humor at a time like this cheers him. If she's up to play then he is too.
He turns her, embracing her for a moment before responding.
"Honey? Well, you're right about it bein' a food. But it is also a term of endearment. Honey is sweet, you are sweet - hence I call you 'Honey'."
Her hands firmly against his chest, she rears back. With an arched brow she answers. "I find the term 'sweet' to have no similarities to me in any way. It is illogical for you to associate me with a substance made by pollen gathering insects to nourish their young."
"So, Honey, what would you prefer I call you? I don't seem to have any Vulcan endearments running through my brain."
"Endearments as you call them are illogical, they serve no purpose other than frivolity."
She feels more than hears a deep chuckle rumble through his chest. "And you said I was more Vulcan than Human, I am all for frivolity, Honey."
TBC in Chapter 11 in which Malcolm wonders what's holding up the Turbo Lift?
Chapter Ten - Frivolity
By Penmom
Author's Notes -- (1) Since this takes place beyond the present cannon - this is AU. (2) tripgrl3 - Hope you like Trip's reaction!, snow queen2 - big words are good!, skye1974 tension is good! Arania - I am glad you are interested, I'll try to keep you interested! AND about the POV - I'm trying to alternate between the characters and Big Thanks to Zane Gray, cool cat, tracy-thenaggingcube, Lowenove, soultoast, skully, chrissie, Admiral Carly Corinthos and plumtuckered
(3) This is short but should be fun! Let me know.
Phlox's lecture continues for the next hour and a half. Long enough for what he's saying (and saying again) to sink in. All the medical explanations in the universe can't quantify what he feels when he's with T'Pol. His grandmother would call it love - no more - no less. Deciding that his theory is good enough for him, he deliberately tunes out much of Phlox's review. To chalk it up to so many neurons and chemicals, well, it just doesn't sit right with him.
He chances a glance at T'Pol as he slumps in his chair, marveling that she is still sitting ramrod straight after forever. As he focuses on her, he realizes that with only a slight effort, he can clearly sense her feelings. They radiate off of her in waves and stand in sharp contrast to her composed posture. She is tense. She is worried. Worried for him. 'Well, I'll be damned' - he thinks.
She fears his anger, his possible displeasure at this thing she has brought down upon him. She fears he will turn away from her.
How could he? Why would he? When she is the only light is his darkness, the only saving grace in this deadly expanse.
He debates the possibility of reaching out to her in some way, but somehow he knows that his touch in this place will only distress her further. It comes to him that if he can feel her emotions perhaps she can feel his too. It would fit with the Doc's assumptions.
He tries to sort it out in his head, just how to do this and can't. 'OK Trip, relax, you can do this.' What did the Doc say about instinctual knowledge - somethin' about Vulcan imprinting bein' relayed to him? Whatever ---, just relax and try again.
Focusing just on the who, not the how - he thinks of his acceptance of her, of the meaning she has gifted him with - he thinks of these feelings over and over as he looks at her for a reaction.
Finally, her brown eyes slide to his. As they make contact he feels a wave of sunshine hit him. She knows. She gets it. That's his girl, he thinks, as he sees her imperceptibly relax against the back of her chair.
Dr. Phlox has the distinct impression that his small audience has been otherwise engaged for quite awhile although neither has gazed away for more than a second or two. As he prepares to close, he raises his voice a bit.
"This is a significant occurrence, Commander Tucker. Given your importance to the crew, I will need to prepare a report for the Captain immediately. I would suggest that you pay the Captain a visit prior its submission.
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
Neither speaks until the doors of the Turbo Lift slide closed. Standing at the controls, T'Pol speaks without turning. "To the Captain's Quarters?"
Before she can press the panel, Trip comes to stand behind her. He loops his right arm around her waist, hunching a bit to place his chin near her left ear as he draws her tense body up against his own.
He whispers in her ear. "Wait, wait just a minute."
His hot breath caresses the tip of her ear and she sighs in response. She leans back allowing him to support her. Her head falls back against his chest as her eyes close.
"Now that's more like it, Honey." He replies running his free hand up and down her slender arm.
"Honey? Honey is a food produced by insects. There are several varieties on Vulcan." Her words cheer him. Encountering her sense of humor at a time like this cheers him. If she's up to play then he is too.
He turns her, embracing her for a moment before responding.
"Honey? Well, you're right about it bein' a food. But it is also a term of endearment. Honey is sweet, you are sweet - hence I call you 'Honey'."
Her hands firmly against his chest, she rears back. With an arched brow she answers. "I find the term 'sweet' to have no similarities to me in any way. It is illogical for you to associate me with a substance made by pollen gathering insects to nourish their young."
"So, Honey, what would you prefer I call you? I don't seem to have any Vulcan endearments running through my brain."
"Endearments as you call them are illogical, they serve no purpose other than frivolity."
She feels more than hears a deep chuckle rumble through his chest. "And you said I was more Vulcan than Human, I am all for frivolity, Honey."
TBC in Chapter 11 in which Malcolm wonders what's holding up the Turbo Lift?
