At first, Malcolm Reed was sure he was being paranoid. After all, it was both his nature to be so and an occupational hazard. He doubted anyone could possibly take his innocent comment seriously, even if it had been overheard. However, he soon found it impossible to believe this was a coincidence.
It seemed unintentional at first. Upon entering the gym for the senior staff's weekly basketball game, Ensign Harris stopped him to ask if Phlox was on Reed's team this week. When the lieutenant replied in the negative, Harris responded, "Then be prepared for a spanking." The two men laughed and parted ways.
The next morning while passing through Engineering, Malcolm stopped to help Lt. Hess locate a misplaced data padd. "Well, spank me and send me to bed!" she exclaimed, "It was on my desk all along." Malcolm found this vaguely suspicious, but then again, all the engineers seemed to inherit a love of bizarre expressions from Commander Tucker.
However, the incident with Ensign Welsh took this out of the realm of coincidence and into that of conspiracy. Reed handed off some materials requisitioned for their current project, and as he walked away, he distinctly heard a muttered "Spank you very much."
Turning on his heel, Malcolm confronted the man with cool gravity. "What was that, Ensign?"
With a barely concealed grin, Welsh replied, "I said, thank you very much, Sir." As Malcolm turned to exit, the ensign added, "If you see Ensign Sato at lunch, tell her I said the same."
Now extremely cross, Reed set out to find the source of this problem. He found him in the corridor off the mess hall. But his quarry spotted him at the same moment, took in the dangerous glint in his eye, and the chase was on. The prey had the advantage of youth and speed, but not half the sustaining determination of an infuriated Reed. Down corridor after corridor, circling half the deck, the hunt wore on. Finally, diving between the closing turbolift doors, Malcolm cornered him.
"I'm going to take your bloody head off, Mayweather," Malcolm growled, slamming his hand to the lift's stop mechanism.
"It wasn't me, I swear it!" Travis protested as he backed up to the opposite wall.
"There were only three of us at that table. Are you suggesting Hoshi is behind this?" Malcolm drew closer in a menacing fashion.
"No, no," Travis said waving his hands defensively. "Someone at the next table overheard, I don't know who, and they obviously blew it out of proportion."
Malcolm backed away just a little, but continued to give the appearance of deadly malice. "What exactly is the rumor they're spreading?" he demanded.
Travis squirmed uncomfortably. "At first, that you told Hoshi you'd enjoy giving her a spanking, but, well, it's morphed a bit by now."
Malcolm steeled himself for the worst. "Just tell me, Ensign."
"Now the story goes that you and Hoshi were caught... in that... activity."
Malcolm sighed and buried his face in his hands. Poor Hoshi, he thought, must be getting it as bad as he was, or worse. The very thought that he, that anyone, could abuse such angelic sweetness was abhorrent. His anger melted into pain when he considered how mortified she must feel, and the likelihood of her avoiding him for some time to come. While he considered this a prudent measure, he felt the loss of her company before the loss even occurred.
"Uh, Lieutenant?" Travis called, breaking his somber reverie. "Can I go now?"
Malcolm released the stop. "When I said I didn't know whether to report her or turn her over my knee, I was merely illustrating the point that her behavior was childish." The sound of despair was creeping into his tone.
"Yes, Sir." Travis said, not trusting any further words to disguise his amusement.
In an effort to make things easier for Hoshi, Malcolm decided to break his routine so she wouldn't be put in the position of avoiding him. He went to dinner early that night and sat at a small table in a far corner. He didn't think it would be wise to avoid the mess hall altogether. Eating alone in his quarters might give credence to the idea that he had something to feel guilty about.
For once, he really looked forward to the next juicy rumor about Trip and Commander T'Pol. At this point, anything that would cut the ship's grapevine from around his neck would be welcome. He didn't know quite how he'd become entangled in it in the first place, but the sooner released, the better. And if he laid hands on the cultivator of this particular hybrid of truth-turned-fiction, it would be their last. He began mentally cataloguing possible suspects.
"Hi," came a cheerful voice over his shoulder. "You don't mind if I join you, do you?" Hoshi Sato was seated across from him at what now seemed an intimate table for two before he could say a word.
"Are you sure that's wise?" he whispered.
"You mean because of those stupid rumors?" Hoshi said dismissively. "All the more reason. If we seem uncomfortable around each other, it will only feed the fire."
Malcolm looked at her dubiously, wondering if she really knew what was being said. No way in the universe was he going to tell her. Just thinking it, he could barely raise his eyes to her face. However, he resigned himself to the idea that she felt this was the way the situation should be handled. "You're the expert when it comes to gossip," he conceded.
They passed the meal in quiet conversation. Reed, though he was nearly through when Hoshi arrived, stayed until she was finished and walked her out. Only then did he gather an impression of the effect their presence had on the rest of the room. Upon exiting, the pair was met alternately with averted eyes from those they passed or very cheeky grins.
"Will I see you at the gym later?" Hoshi asked as they prepared to go their separate ways in the corridor.
"I think not," Reed replied. "I have some things to take care of this evening." He didn't mention that those things involved hiding out alone in his quarters and dying of shame.
"Oh, come on, Mal! It's not that bad," Commander Tucker insisted from his place on the floor beneath a console in the armory.
"It is! The entire ship thinks I'm some kind of deviant."
"Deviant? I personally overheard three giggling female crewmembers say they wouldn't mind a good spankin' from you under the right circumstances. Hand me that cable tester, will ya?"
Malcolm passed him the requested device. "Who?" he asked.
Trip proceeded as if he hadn't heard the question. He wasn't going to squeal on his staff.
Sighing, Malcolm asked, "How can people believe this? Do I really appear to be such a dreadful cad?"
"You are the ship's jailor. It's not that big a leap to imagine you might be into a little bondage," Trip teased. "Seriously, Malcolm, are you telling me you've never done any kind of -- you know -- playing around like that?"
"I'm not saying that," Malcolm hissed, "as if it's any of your business."
"I know you're not trying to tell me that you find Hoshi unattractive."
"No, she's..." Malcolm heaved another sigh. "Well, I think she's just about the most beautiful girl I've ever seen."
Trip slid out from under the console just enough to prop up on his elbows and study Malcolm's face. One look at his forlorn, earnest expression was enough. "Ooooh, you've got it bad, don't you? You're in love with her!" Trip exclaimed.
"Don't be ridiculous!" Malcolm snapped, turning away from Trip's efforts to read his reactions.
"That's why this whole thing has upset you so much!"
"That's absurd," Malcolm proclaimed, spinning back to face Trip with an angry glare. He was so angry, in fact, that he didn't notice the sound of the door behind him sliding open. "I am upset because this baseless rumor persists despite all logic. How anyone could think I would engage in such behavior with Hoshi is beyond me. She's barely more than a girl. A sweet, innocent girl. The very thought is..." Malcolm struggled for a strong enough word.
"What, Malcolm?" Came a soft, clipped voice from behind him. "'The very thought is' what?"
"Hoshi! I didn't... You..." Malcolm couldn't form a coherent thought.
"Barely more than a girl?" Hoshi repeated with venom. She turned and stomped away before Malcolm regained the power of speech.
"Bugger!" Malcolm yelled. Trip failed to suppress a chuckle. "What are you laughing about?" Reed snarled.
"Nice to see I'm not the only one who can't keep his foot out of his mouth around his best girl."
Always one to observe the protocol of rank, Malcolm replied, "I respectfully request you sod off, Sir."
"Deviant!" Trip grinned.
Malcolm was of two minds, but one direction. Though his mind debated the wisdom of being seen at Hoshi's quarters, his feet insisted that he go. He felt horrid about the way she interpreted his words and he couldn't rest until he set it right. She hadn't come to the mess for dinner, and he couldn't imagine trying to talk to her during tonight's movie, if she even came, so going to her quarters was the only option.
He pressed the buzzer. "Come in," she called out sweetly. He hoped her good mood didn't alter when she learned who was at the door. The door slid open, and he stepped just inside the threshold, the sight before him stopping him in his tracks.
Hoshi was buttoning the sleeves of her tight white blouse. She might have buttoned a button or two over her chest, but she didn't. With Malcolm's advantage of height he could just see a hint of white satin, the edges of her demi-brassiere. Her skirt, if not quite substantial enough to merit that name, was of pleated plaid and barely covered her shapely derriere. Her legs were bare to the ankle, where she wore bobby socks and black leather mary-janes. Her hair was tied up in a ponytail. Ignoring Malcolm, she bent over and rummaged through a drawer, revealing as she did panties that were definitely not standard Starfleet-issue. Retrieving a red satin ribbon, she stood and tied a bow around her ponytail.
"Hello, Lieutenant," she said sweetly. "Have you come to chaperone me at the movie?"
"Hoshi, what are you doing?" Malcolm said in a voice rough from the sudden inability to swallow.
"You mean the outfit? I'm barely more than a girl, remember? I thought I'd better dress the part," she said innocently, her tone light and sweet.
"Hoshi," Malcolm began, the sound of pleading in his own voice surprising to him.
"Shall we go?" she interrupted and reached behind him to open the door. He quickly stayed her hand.
"You are not going anywhere dressed like that," he insisted angrily.
"What are you going to do, put me over your knee?" she said archly.
"You've made your point, Hoshi. You are not a girl, nor do you look like one. Now put an end to this."
"To tell you the truth, Malcolm," she said coldly, "that was never my intent. I know I'm a woman. My plan is to find someone on this ship who will treat me like one."
The finer implication of her words was lost on Malcolm. The only thought that registered horrified him. "Hoshi, you are not going out there to have a fling with some crewman just because you are angry at me. I swear by God, I will not let you out of these quarters until you are out of that costume."
Hoshi stared at him, astonished at how dense he really could be. "Fine," she said with an ironic laugh. "If that's what it's going to take." Her hands, and his eyes, moved to the buttons of her shirt, then quickly slipped it off her shoulders.
"Hoshi..." The pleading tone was back. As her hands went to the button of her skirt, he closed his eyes tightly. "Hoshi, I'm trying to remain a gentleman, but you aren't making it easy." He heard the skirt hit the floor and the shoes kicked off.
Before he knew she was close enough, she whispered in his ear. "Then give up, you idiot." He opened his eyes to find her scant inches from him, barely clothed, and completely irresistible.
In one quick motion, she was in his arms, her back against the door where he'd stood a moment before, and buried under a barrage of punishing kisses. "You," he whispered breathlessly against her neck, "are a very bad woman."
"Thank God you finally noticed."