A/N: This chapter isn't as bad (like, rating-wise) as the previous two.

Again, many thanks to the Vulcan Language Dictionary.

Day 23

Trip was in heaven. He had an armful of the most beautiful woman in the universe, and she was pressing against him in all the right places. They had spent almost two full days naked in her quarters, tangled together under her sheets – for the most part – and had barely been separated for more than a few minutes at a time. He couldn't care less that he hadn't eaten since the day before yesterday, and he didn't give a flying fuck what those stuck-up Vulcans on the shuttle would say when they saw him come out of T'Pol's quarters. All that mattered was that he and T'Pol were here, now, together – just as it should be.

And she told him that she wanted him. Everything else took a backseat to that.

He felt T'Pol press her lips against his ear and heard faint whisperings in his head. He tried to distinguish words but wasn't able to – and it wasn't for lack of trying. He got the feeling something had happened that night in her quarters. The last time he and T'Pol had made love – on Enterprise – nothing even remotely similar to that had happened. He figured T'Pol knew what was going on, but – shocker – she wasn't saying anything. To tell the truth, he didn't really care. As long as she was with him right now, the ship could explode and he would die a very happy man.

Very little of his strength remained, as the past two days had drained him of most of his energy – and he prided himself on his stamina – but he managed to roll over so that he was covering T'Pol.

"I thought I heard you," he said, leaning in to trail kisses down her neck.

"I said nothing," she said, but her words were whispered in a sigh as he planted a kiss at the base of her throat. "You could not have heard me."

He lightly brushed his lips against hers, pulling away before she had the opportunity to respond. "Whatever you say, darlin'." He pulled back farther, pushing himself off of her, so that he could look her in her eyes. "You don't mind that I call you that, do you?"

She shook her head and slid her hands up his arms. "No. I am becoming rather fond of the endearment."

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and the whispers returned. "Do Vulcans have pet names?" He felt her ask the question in his head, so he elaborated. "Pet names – like nicknames that you call the person you love."

She looked thoughtful for a moment and chewed on her bottom lip. He licked his lips hungrily. "The most common one is t'hy'la. It has many connotations, but it is refers to a good friend or a lifelong companion."

He traced the shell of her ear with his finger. She shivered, and he grinned. "So, what, I'm a good friend, then?"

She braced her hands more firmly on his forearms and pulled herself upward until their lips met. It was short and anything but chaste, and Trip felt his brain fog over. She lowered herself back onto the bed. "There is another term, but it became unfashionable after the Reformation because of its emotional undertone."

His smile widened. He liked where this was going. "What is it?"

"It is considerably more intimate than t'hy'la. It is rarely used. I have only heard it once – my father once said it to my mother."

She was prevaricating. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her head down. "T'Pol, what is it?"

T'Pol blinked. "K'hat'n'dlawa."

He repeated it, though he could tell from a sudden wisp in his mind that he had done a poor job of it. He hadn't quite gotten pronunciation down. "What's it mean?"

She glanced away, focusing her attention on his clavicle. "One who is half of my heart and soul."

He was glad he was lying down, because he lost all feeling in his extremities. "And that's what I am to you?"

She looked back at him, and he felt his insides turn to water. "Yes."

He kissed her, pouring his heart and soul into it. She returned and deepened the kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer. He was breathless when they finally broke apart.

She touched his lips with the tips of her fingers. "We should go the mess hall."

He shook his head and buried his face in the hollow of her neck. "I'm not hungry."

"You have not eaten for nearly two days."

He placed his lips on her ear. "Well, to tell you the truth, I'm kinda in the mood for some dessert."