Day 16

T'Pol had settled on her next course of action. Obviously, it would be unwise to spend any more time with the commander in private. Their only interactions could be on the observation deck or in the mess hall, where there would be other passengers around. Having an audience would deter them from going where they had almost gone three days ago in Trip's quarters.

However, this new plan seemed to put them under a microscope. Now they were subject to scrutiny at all times with no chance of reprieve, for T'Pol would not allow herself to succumb to the illogical desire to retreat to her or Trip's quarters. They would have to deal with the scrutiny.

As they ate breakfast, T'Pol marveled at how quickly Trip had grasped the Vulcan language. That first day, T'Pol had been horrified at his pronunciation. It still wasn't perfect, but it was commendable. Not every human had Ensign Sato's ear for languages, but Trip would be able to manage quite admirably once they arrived on Vulcan. He would not impress anyone with his accent, unless they would be impressed that he bothered to learn the language at all.

It was for this reason that T'Pol decided to continue her part in their ongoing cultural exchange. She broached the subject as Trip absentmindedly ripped apart his krei'la.

"Commander," she said, and he glanced up at her, "I wish to learn more about your language."

He raised his eyebrows. "You're fluent. How much more do you need to know?"

"You have very…colorful phrases to describe things," she said. "I wish to learn some as well." She almost didn't believe that those words had come out of her mouth.

From the look on his face, he hadn't either. "Okay. Sure."

She could tell from his tone that he thought she was joking. "I am not kidding, Commander. If you can teach me some, it would greatly help relations with the crew. I do not like having to look up a reference after having a conversation with someone. I believe it would be much more efficient if I already knew what they meant."

Trip smiled and shook his head. "Only you, T'Pol, would make learnin' metaphors work-related." He sighed and sat back in his chair, folding his arms behind his head, clearly enjoying their conversation. "I wouldn't really know where to begin, so why don't you just throw back some of the things you heard me say and I'll explain what they mean."

"'Apples and oranges'," she said.

The smile on Trip's face faltered, but he recovered quickly, and T'Pol didn't think to press the issue. "Well, that's what we say when two things are basically the same."

T'Pol frowned. "But apples and oranges are not similar."

"Sure they are. They're both fruit. That's close enough."

I shall never grasp the complexities of the human language, T'Pol thought. But she was still willing to try. She wanted to make a concerted effort. "I see. What about 'taking it all in stride'?"

Trip shrugged. "That's taking it with a grain of salt. Handling something pretty well." He lowered his arms and leaned against the table. "You Vulcans are good at that. You seem to take everything in stride. You don't get overly emotional about anything."

"And 'birds of a feather'?"

He played with his fingers, cleaning the dirt out from under his nails. "Means people with similar interests tend to gravitate towards each other." T'Pol cocked her head to the side and watched the commander. He glanced up and met her gaze, grinning. "C'mon, T'Pol, gimme a hard one here."

She lifted an eyebrow and straightened in her chair. "While in the Expanse, I often heard the phrase 'get it on'."

Trip's eyes widened and his jaw dropped. "Who'd you hear it from?"

She was intrigued by his reaction. "No one actually said it to me. I only heard it in passing. But many crewmen applied the phrase to our situation."

Trip dropped his head. It banged against the table with a sickening thud, and T'Pol distinctly heard the commander utter a muffled curse before he brought his head up just enough to speak clearly. "People were sayin' that about us?"

T'Pol relaxed her posture enough to lean slightly forward. She lowered her voice to a level that hopefully would not be overheard even by Vulcan ears. "What does it mean, Trip?"

Trip half-rose from his seat to lean across the table closer to her. He, too, lowered his voice, so that his next words were barely a puff of breath in T'Pol's face. "Havin' sex."

Her mouth was suddenly dry. She remembered discussing with Trip the rumors that were circulating about the two of them. People were under the impression that when Trip came to her quarters, he received more than neuro-pressure. Surely the crew would have realized that T'Pol did not engage in what the crew deemed "casual sex" – but she had. Sort of. It hadn't exactly been casual. "Oh."

Trip sank back into his chair and ran his tongue along his bottom lip. T'Pol found herself focusing on that gesture, remembering the feel of his lips against hers. She was so lost in the memory that she almost didn't hear Trip's next statement. "I'm sorry, T'Pol. People are ignorant."

She looked down at the krei'la, which lay in pieces on the table, then looked back at Trip. "In this case, they are accurate. We did, in fact, 'get it on'."

He smiled halfheartedly. "That we did." His voice was wistful, and T'Pol remembered how hurt he had been the morning after being intimate, when she had brushed him off. He ran his fingers through his hair. "Okay. Next metaphor."

"'Humdinger'?"

He chuckled softly. "Not exactly a metaphor, but whatever you want, darlin'."

A/N: In defense of this chapter, it's difficult to think of things for them to do over 24 days.

A krei'la, by the way, is a biscuit.