Day 13

Trip buried his face in his hands and stifled a groan. "Are you sure you want to learn?" He prayed that she would say no. He was exhausted. He'd barely gotten any sleep the night before – in fact, he'd been unable to sleep for most of the trip – because he kept having impossibly realistic sex dreams involving a certain Vulcan science officer, who was currently seated at the foot of his bed puzzling over a football rule book. "We can stop right now. I won't think any less of you."

T'Pol nodded. "You have been most anxious to learn Vulcan customs. I thought it only fair for me to learn some Earth ones."

"Well, I'm not the one who's been livin' on an alien ship for three years," Trip said, collapsing on his bunk on his stomach. He studied T'Pol's face. She's so cute when she's intent on somethin', he thought. He raised himself up on his elbows. "You really don't need to do this, T'Pol."

She cocked her head at him, and he was instantly drowning in the deep chestnut of her eyes. Not a good sign, ol' boy, he told himself, if all she has to do is look at you and you're putty.

"I have never taken your attempts at a cultural exchange seriously, Commander," she said, and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes. They were back to "commander" again. "And as we have ample time before we reach Vulcan, it seems like the chance to…make up for lost time."

Trip smiled inwardly at her use of the human phrase and sat up. "You read The Lord of the Rings."

She shook her head. "Reading one book could hardly be construed as a cultural exchange, given that you are learning much more about Vulcan on this trip than I am learning about Earth."

He laughed. "That's 'cause we're goin' to Vulcan. Seems to make sense that I learn a little 'bout it. I don't wanna look like a stereotypical human when I meet your mom." He paused to gauge her reaction, but she gave him none. "And what exactly brought on this sudden urge to learn about football?"

"I merely expressed the desire to learn an Earth custom, Commander. You were the one who suggested I learn about football."

He shrugged. "Well, that's 'cause it seemed like the most Earth-y thing to learn about. Only humans would make up something so pointless."

T'Pol cocked an eyebrow. "Indeed. There are an inordinate amount of rules for something as seemingly simple as carrying a ball across a field."

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and tried to drain the frustration from his voice. "If it was simple, T'Pol, it wouldn't be a challenge."

She returned to the rule book, which he suddenly realized she was holding upside down. He leaned forward to see why and noticed that she was attempting to make sense of one of the many diagrams. "I see," she said. "So this is supposed to be challenging."

"Sure," he said. He gently removed the book from her hands and righted it, letting his hands rest on hers when he gave the book back. "Without challenge, we stagnate. Football expresses a human's inherent need for competition. It also symbolizes how we feel about our lives in general. All we gotta do is get a ball a hundred yards downfield. Should be easy, right? But someone's in our way, tryin' to make us fail. We gotta be stronger, smarter, faster than the people in our way."

T'Pol glanced up at him, and he saw that his hands were still on hers.

"I was under the impression that football was only a game," she said. Her voice was softer than usual. She didn't move her hands.

Trip laughed to cover up his nerves and glanced down at their hands. "Leave it to humans to take something like a game of football and make it life or death." When he looked up and met T'Pol's gaze, he damn near melted on the spot. "We take ourselves too seriously."

"Do you approach everything in life with as much vigor as you do football?" she asked.

He felt all the blood rush south. That sounded like flirtin', he thought. T'Pol doesn't flirt. Well, that wasn't entirely true, although she probably wouldn't recognize something as flirting. So perhaps it should have been that T'Pol didn't consciously flirt. "Well," Trip said, reaching out to brush his fingers against her face, "I can't speak for anyone else, but I sure as hell do."

His fingers touched her face, and he felt the electricity surge through him once more. This time there was no blinding flash of light. Instead, he felt strange emotions wash over him – emotions that were not his own. Though he couldn't explain it, he knew that they were T'Pol's. He tried to sift through them, but they came in a rush, drowning him. It wasn't until the last one entered his mind that he was able to even think clearly enough to identify it.

Need. Burning, aching need. For him.

As if she sensed what she had inadvertently revealed to him, she wrenched herself free of his touch and slid off the bed. "If you don't mind, Commander, I would like to take this book back to my quarters. I believe I could grasp the concepts better without distraction."

"Is that all I am? A distraction?" He wasn't sure if she meant it that way, but that's sure as hell what it sounded like to him.

Her eyes shimmered, and for a minute he actually entertained the idea that she was tearing up. But then she blinked and her face was as expressionless as always. "You do not have the capacity to remain silent for long periods of time," she said. "I feel it would be best if I returned to my quarters."

It suddenly hit him that she was running away. She knew what had just happened and it scared her, so she was bolting before it could go any further. Because it would, he realized that now. If they had stayed like that any longer, who knew how far it would have gone. The last thing he wanted was another one night stand with her, if that's all it was going to be.

He cleared his throat. "Maybe that's a good idea."