A/N: The dream Trip has is, again, the infamous decon scene in "Broken Bow" (can you tell I love that scene?), except for the part at the end, which is purely the creation of my imagination. Well, maybe not. But whatever.

Oh, yeah, this chapter's a little more, um, risque than the others. You have been warned.

Day 15

Trip was going crazy. There was no other explanation. Why else would he be unable to take his eyes off the Vulcan standing before him? Yeah, she was attractive – damn fine female specimen if he ever saw one – but she was Vulcan, and he was pissed off at her at the moment. As long as he kept concentrating on that, he'd be fine. Or so he thought. But even that didn't seem to be working. Particularly because as she stood before him clad in nothing but her underwear, he couldn't help but notice that the air crackled with electricity completely separate from the blue lights bathing them in warm ultraviolet radiation.

He could almost see it now. "Dear Penthouse…"

He began to lather the decontamination gel on his arms. The sooner he got this stuff on him, the sooner he could get out of this room and put some space between him and T'Pol. He chanced a glance at the Vulcan and tried not to notice that the way she was spreading the gel on her shoulders looked very much like some kind of foreplay.

He couldn't stand it any longer. If he didn't say something, he was going to crack. He couldn't even begin to imagine what T'Pol's reaction would be if he tried to kiss her right now, but he would bet good money that it would give new meaning to the term "knee-jerk". "Correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't you just kind of an observer on this mission? I don't remember anyone tellin' me you were a member of Starfleet."

She grabbed another glob of gel and rubbed her hands together. "My Vulcan rank supersedes yours." She rubbed it all over her stomach, but she did it slowly, teasingly. Trip's brain began to fog.

"Apples and oranges," he said. "This is an Earth vessel. You're in no position to take command."

"As soon as we're through here, I'll contact Ambassador Soval." She began to lather her legs, and Trip focused all his energy on his anger, so that he wouldn't notice how shapely her legs were. "He'll speak to your superiors, and I'm certain they'll support my authority in this situation."

When T'Pol had finished, he realized that they were going to have to help each other reach their backs. He held out his hands, indicating that she should turn around so he could get her first. She understood his gesture and turned her back to him.

"You must really be proud of yourself," he said, blatantly ignoring her hands as she attended to the areas under her shirt. "You can put an end to this mission while the captain's still unconscious in sickbay." Her skin was so soft. Somehow, he'd imagine a tough hide to match her emotionless interior. On impulse, he let his fingers slide under the waistband of her panties. He half expected her to turn around and deck him. But she didn't. "You won't even have to look him in the eye."

"Your precious cargo was stolen." He stood up and looked at her ears. He'd heard that Vulcan ears were very sensitive – that they were an erogenous zone. He began to gently rub them, eagerly anticipating her reaction. She didn't give him one. "Three Suliban, perhaps more, were killed, and Captain Archer has been seriously wounded." She wrenched her head free of his grasp and turned to face him. "It seems to me this mission has put an end to itself. Turn around."

The way she said it made his knees buckle. He turned around to let her get to work, but he made a big show of being reluctant. He didn't want to give her the satisfaction of knowing that this was seriously turning him on. However, his body undermined his actions a second later, because the moment she touched him, he was instantly hard. He cursed silently and hoped she wouldn't notice.

"Let's say you're right," he said, glancing over his shoulder at her. Damn, she was fine. "Let's say we screwed up, just like you always knew we would." She moved her hands quickly down his back to his legs. Wait a minute; he'd already done his legs. What was she doing? "It's still a pretty good bet that whoever blew that hole in the captain's leg is connected somehow to the people who took Klaang."

"I fail to see your point." T'Pol ran her hands over his ears and down the back of his neck, almost tenderly, as if she were savoring the feel of him.

Trip tried to focus on his anger, marveling at his attempt to maintain his control. Any other woman, and the conversation would have ended before it even began. "Captain Archer deserves the chance to see this through. If you knew him, you'd realize that's what he's about. He needs to finish what he starts. His daddy was the same way."

He was delighted to note that he seemed to have struck a nerve with T'Pol. She had to pause before replying, but continued to spread the gel over his back. "You obviously share the captain's belief that my people were responsible for impeding Henry Archer's accomplishments."

"He only wanted to see his engine fly," Trip said, turning to face her and emphasizing every word. "They never even gave him the chance to fail." Anger. Anger, anger, anger. He had to concentrate, because he was fast falling under the spell of those liquid brown eyes. Those eyes would be his undoing. "And here you are, thirty years later, provin' just how consistent you Vulcans can be."

He brushed past her and made to go, but a hand on his arm stopped him. He turned to face her, surprised.

"You seem to have some preconceptions about my people," she said. Her voice was soft and completely devoid of condescension. Trip was almost hypnotized.

"Yeah, well, you've got some about mine."

She raised an eyebrow. "Indeed. I think it only fair to warn you that Vulcans are very thorough."

Now he was confused. Hell, this just wasn't his day. "What are you sayin'?"

She released his arm and held up the tube of decontamination gel. "I believe the doctor's instructions were to rub this gel all over."

He swallowed. "Yeah…?"

She stepped forward so that their faces were only inches apart and pressed the tube into his hand. They were so close that he could have kissed her with very little effort, and from the look in her eyes, she was thinking that same thing. But that was impossible.

"I believe we have missed some spots."

Trip woke with a start and sat bolt upright in bed, breathing heavily and sweating profusely. He angrily collapsed against his pillow and folded his arms over his face. How was he ever going to get any sleep if he kept having dreams like that?

Well, he was up for the day. There'd be no sleep after that dream. Hell, he was still half-aroused, and they hadn't even gotten as far as they usually did in his dreams. But thinking about that time in decon – their first real disagreement – made him wonder why in God's name they hadn't jumped each other's bones months ago. They'd obviously wanted to.

Trip swung his legs around and dropped his head. "Why do you do this to yourself?"