3 days.

2 days, 23 hours and 19 minutes, to be exact. And counting.

3 days since I was thanked for participating in an 'experiment'.

Experiment my ass.

It was no goddamn experiment, no matter what she tries to tell herself. 'I've been wondering about human sexuality', she says. So why not experiment with Malcolm? Mayweather?

It wasn't an experiment.

I know because I was there. I felt it. I felt the passion and the hunger. In myself and in her.

In T'Pol.

3 days, 7 hours and 34 minutes.

I didn't sleep again last night because I haven't gone back to her for neuro-pressure therapy. That's right! I am forsaking the only thing since warm milk and Mom's lullabies to knock me out like a baby.

You know why?

Here she comes! Oh, here she comes. Here she comes, here she comes…

"Commander Tucker?"

Look nonchalant. Yeah, that's right, glance up, glance down, act disinterested.

"What can I do for you Subcommander?"

She leaned on the railing, one hand curling around it, the other holding a PADD out to me. Before 'the experiment', he never realized how sexy she looks when she does that.

"The Captain sent me down with some figures. He wants to know if these Xindi enhancements can be made to our systems."

T'Pol watched him carefully as Trip continued to fiddle with the control panel. Wide open, wires hanging out, it looked to her like he was considerably busy.

She dropped her raised arm to her side.

"May I be of assistance?" she asked. 'Ever the polite one,' he thought, but shook his head.

"Nah, I think I've almost got it."

Red wire's connected to the - flashing button. Blue wire's connected to the - com panel. The green wire's connected to the - um, to the…

Fzzt!!

"Damn it!"

If Vulcans rolled their eyes, T'Pol would have done so. Instead, she placed the PADD on a nearby ledge and ducked under the railing, sidling up to Trip and taking his hand in her own.

"It looks like you've received only first degree burns, but you should visit Dr. Phlox to be certain."

He pulled his hand back, cradling it to his chest and glaring at her petulantly. Add a pout and a sniffle and he'd be a regular five-year-old.

"May I ask what you were doing that required dermal injury?"

Gesturing at the panel he said, "It's been doing this…bzzzt-der-bzzzt…"

T'Pol glanced at the panel then back at him, expression unchanging. At first he'd hated how unemotional she seemed, never getting angry or upset or happy…but eventually Trip came to understand it was her defence mechanism against losing control of her emotions, heightened beyond human conception as they were.

Of course, the extra time he'd been spending with her, both in her quarters after hours learning neuro-pressure and working together getting the ship protected from the anomalies in the Expanse, had resulted in his ability to read her moods through the subtle inflections of her voice and the stiffness of her posture.

Right now, it seemed to him, she wasn't as unconcerned as she would appear to others. He knew she was worried about his burnt hand and that he currently held her undivided attention.

"…and everyone's been complainin' 'bout it, and then it was driving me nuts, so I decided to, I dunno, get in there and tear it off the wall if I had to." He grimaced. "But it bit me first."

"I'm sure the panel did not electrocute you on purpose, Commander. Now, why don't I take a look at it and see if I can -"

"Ohhhh, no," Trip interrupted, stepping between T'Pol and the control panel as she advanced on it, "I have a deep grudge against this little piece of circuitry that I intend to resolve."

She raised an eyebrow at him, a perfectly shaped, beautifully symmetrical eyebrow, that caused him to suppress a groan. Not to be outdone, he smirked at her, a smirk which grew more cocky as she looked away and tried to focus on anything other than him.

"I figured out that it's a loose wire in there, probably shaken up by our last exciting encounter with the Expanse. It won't take me long to fix now that I know what I'm doing." He reluctantly turned his gaze from T'Pol and set to work fiddling with the panel again.

Now that he was looking away, she once again returned her gaze to him. "Do you want me to have Dr. Phlox come down to engineering in case the control panel 'bites' you again? We wouldn't want our Chief Engineer to be killed by rampaging machinery, now would we?"

He laughed. "I think you've been spending too much time with me, Sub-Commander. You've developed a sense of humour as twisted as mine!"

Really, he was pleased. It had been a shock to him the first time she had attempted to joke with him, but ever since he'd been working on drawing out that long-suppressed joviality buried deep inside her. Apparently, his efforts were bearing fruit.

Glancing up at her, he saw that she was leaning comfortably against the wall, looking down at him, a smile dancing in her eyes. The old poets and philosophers of times past had always said that the eyes were the windows into the soul - it wasn't until he'd met this beautiful Vulcan that he finally believed it.

The playfulness he saw there slowly turned serious. "I haven't seen much of you lately, Commander. Have you not required neuro-pressure to help you sleep?"

Finally! I thought she was never gonna ask.

"You know, I've been sleeping pretty well lately. I don't think I need it anymore. Thanks, though." He smiled winningly at her. "I couldn't 've done it without ya."

Finished with the control panel, he leaned down to get his tools so he could close it. Beside him, he felt how tense T'Pol had become and began to worry that his plan wasn't going to work. After all, he had lied about sleeping well - he hadn't slept a wink since their last session, though he suspected it had more to do with the unresolved feelings he had for her than the treatments he hadn't been receiving.

Suddenly, he realized that he was playing with fire. If she truly didn't have lingering feelings for him, she would accept that he didn't need her help anymore and be out of his life with no regrets. And even if she did like him, her pride might get in the way of her offering to continue neuro-pressure therapy sessions. And what if…?

Her voice interrupted his panicked musings. "Many neuro-pressure patients experience short periods of alleviated symptoms that make it seem as if the problem is cured. However, their problems soon arise again."

Trip glanced at her as he began to reattach the panel to the wall. "Are you saying that I'm not better? That I'm merely experiencing a lack of symptoms?"

"It's been known to happen."

"So what do you suggest, then?"

T'Pol waited until he had finished with the control panel and had packed up his tools before she answered him.

"I think we should continue your neuro-pressure sessions." Off of his self-satisfied smile, she quickly added, "Just to be sure that you are, in fact, cured."

"Well, if that's what you think is best…" he replied, trying his hardest not to start grinning like a schoolboy.

"It is. We should resume your treatment as soon as possible. Are you free this evening?" She palmed the PADD and once more held it out to him.

He took it, purposely touching her fingers as he did so. "Nah, I have plans with a beautiful Vulcan tonight." Then he winked at her and hauled himself up to the walkway.

T'Pol stared after him for a moment before finally leaving engineering. Trip followed her with his eyes until she was gone and then did a little happy dance behind the bulkheads.