Last night I realized I hadn't yet put a disclaimer on this story, so here it is:
Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with Paramount or Star Trek and am receiving no profit for this story. It's just for fun. Please don't sue - I only work part time and you wouldn't get much out of me anyway.
Malcolm couldn't sleep. He held to a very specific routine and had done so since his days at the academy. His inability to adhere to it was beginning to worry him – and so was the fact that all of his problems seemed to stem from Kamea's arrival on Enterprise. What was so appealing about Kamea that had his stomach constantly tied up in knots? Yes, she was attractive, but there were a fair number of attractive women onboard the Enterprise… Of course, Starfleet regulations expressly prohibited fraternization, which was the main reason he had never attempted to have a relationship with any of those attractive crewmembers.
Kamea, on the other hand, was not a member of Starfleet. She wasn't even technically a member of Enterprise's crew, so those regulations wouldn't apply to her. Was that the reason he couldn't seem to get her out of his mind? Was that why she visited his dreams every night and behaved in a very non-Vulcan manner? He'd had erotic dreams before, but they had never been quite so intense. He would wake up still aroused and had to take numerous cold showers every morning to get his body back to normal. Other than the physical attraction, he couldn't think of any other explanations, because he knew very little about her, other than she liked Earl Grey tea, was a damn fine engineer, and knew a thing or two about hand-to-hand combat.
And that every time he touched her, he felt like he was losing his mind.
After their first spar, he had run into her half a dozen times. She always seemed to be in the training room just as he walked in to begin his daily workout. He knew that she couldn't sleep and wandered around the ship for lack of anything else to do, but the way she always ended up in the training room was either an amazing coincidence or a testament to something deeper.
Malcolm prayed for the coincidence, because the connection he felt with Kamea was something that went beyond anything he'd ever felt before. And the thought scared him to death.
Every time they sparred, it got more heated – more intense. It seemed as if they were both putting everything they had into these spars, as if they were both trying to get away from something. Their spars were turning out like his dreams, as if fighting each other was their own warped brand of intimacy. They fought until they were exhausted – Kamea had collapsed from fatigue more than once – but even though they drained Malcolm like nothing else, he couldn't fathom putting a stop to them.
And it was that odd sort of masochism that had him stumbling to the training room in the middle of the night, desperate for his daily interlude with Kamea.
When he arrived, he found that Kamea had already started without him – and that she was doing an entirely different workout. The music blaring from the speakers was not the bass-heavy rock music she had been favoring, but a soft, lilting classical melody. And she wasn't shadow boxing or doing karate exercises. She was dancing.
He'd noticed how graceful she was during their spars – she could execute acrobatics like he had never seen – but as he watched her dance, he realized that there was so much more to it. She had obviously taken some dance classes, because she seemed to know what she was doing. He watched as she balanced on one foot, leaning forward until her left leg was almost vertical, placed her hands on the floor, and went into a handstand. She flipped over, spreading her legs into a split as she did so, and when she was once again standing upright, she went directly into a series of pirouettes that left Malcolm feeling dizzy just from watching.
She stretched upwards, standing on the very tips of her toes, her arms extended above her head, waving slowly from side to side. Her movements were eloquent, flowing, and each seemed to blend into the next, almost as if it were a choreographed dance she had learned years ago and performed until it was ingrained permanently into her memory. There was nothing spontaneous about this dance.
He watched her until the music faded, and even though he knew she had probably realized he was there, he was still surprised when she asked, "Enjoy the show?" without turning to face him.
He blinked several times as the reality of what he was seeing hit him full force. He had never before seen Kamea in any state of undress. During the day, she wore jeans and a ratty old shirt – generally a button-down – and at night, when they sparred, she wore her catsuits. But what she had on now, it was obvious that she had attempted to go to sleep and been unable to do so. She was wearing a pair of gray pajama pants that sat just below her hips and a tight blue T-shirt that clung to her body in all the right places and barely covered her navel, so that a thin line of skin was visible on her stomach.
He instinctively fought his body's reaction to her appearance. "I didn't know you could dance."
She turned to face him, one eyebrow raised. "There's a lot you don't know about me."
That was true. He'd told himself as much. But it didn't stop him from dreaming about her, from wanting to feel her pressed against him. It was lonely in space.
"So," he said, desperate to prevent things from getting too intense, "you can dance, you can fight, you can rebuild an engine from memory… Is there anything you can't do?"
She looked pensive for a moment, as though seriously considering it. The tip of her tongue poked out between her lips, which Malcolm had learned was a sure sign that she was lost in thought. But the sight of her doing that always sent the blood rushing south, and this time was no exception. Finally she leveled her eyes at him. "Bring people back from the dead."
Malcolm rolled his eyes. "I meant something feasible. It's not possible to bring back the dead."
Kamea pursed her lips. "Maintain a healthy relationship."
He looked up at her in shock. They were fast delving into a topic of conversation that he didn't think he'd be able to handle. "Well, who can?"
She shook her head. "It's my mother's fault, really. The way she described her attraction to my father. I've spent my entire life searching for that same kind of connection. If I don't feel it, I don't stay in a relationship."
Malcolm swallowed hard, wondering if she felt the same thing between them that he did. It couldn't be just him. This was way too intense. "So then…you've never felt it?"
She stared at him, her eyes boring into him, and – not for the first time – he got the feeling that she could see directly into his soul. "I'll get back to you."
He took a deep breath, steadying his nerves. When she looked at him like that, it took every bit of self-control he possessed not to pounce on her. "You didn't feel up for a spar tonight?"
She collapsed onto the floor and began to warm down, spreading her legs as far apart as they would go, which unfortunately did not help Malcolm's situation any. "I had a bad day," she said. "I was afraid that, if we sparred tonight, I might accidentally kill you."
Malcolm's stomach suddenly turned to ice, but he forced a laugh. However, she didn't look like she was joking. "Has that ever happened before?"
"No. But it could. I can't always control my abilities." She leaned forward until her stomach was touching the floor, but her legs were still spread out behind her, and Malcolm couldn't help wondering if she could get into those positions for things other then stretching. "So I thought I'd opt for another form of tension release." She looked up at him, and he forced himself to look her in the eye, instead of where he had been looking. "I hope you don't mind."
Malcolm was all too willing to suggest yet another way to release tension, but he wisely said nothing. He also stayed exactly where he was, afraid that if he took even one step closer to her, his self-control would vanish. "Not at all. But unfortunately, you've now robbed me of my daily workout."
She pushed herself into a seated position and curled her legs underneath her. "You'll survive."
"So…your day…" Malcolm said, only because he felt he had to say something, or he would just stare at her. "Anything I can help you with?"
Kamea shook her head and stood, stretching her arms above her head, which caused her shirt to ride up, revealing even more of her stomach. "Highly doubtful. It's T'Pol. She doesn't like me very much."
Malcolm averted his eyes, staring at the wall directly behind Kamea, so as not to be tempted. "I wouldn't worry about that. She didn't like anybody very much for quite some time. It wasn't until we were in the expanse that she really started to open up, so to speak."
Kamea sighed, and Malcolm glanced back at her. "I'm used to people not liking me," she said. "But never family."
He wanted to go to her, to comfort her, but he was afraid that if he got any closer to her, it would turn into something else. So he kept his feet rooted to the spot and screwed his face into what he hoped was a sympathetic expression. "You'll win her over, eventually."
Kamea threw him a pained expression. "'Eventually' being the operative word."
She began walking towards the door, which was the last thing Malcolm wanted. "Going to bed?"
Kamea stopped and stared at him. "No. I was going to go to the ship's library. The captain's old logs are surprisingly entertaining." She gave him a weak smile and headed for the door again, but she stopped just as she reached it and turned to face him. "I also can't cook."
Then she was gone.
Malcolm's breathing became more and more erratic, now that Kamea was not there to force him to control himself. He had to do something – hit something, break something, pummel something – before he exploded. Damn Kamea. How the hell did she do this to him?
A/N: It isn't my intention to make Kamea perfect, but keep in mind that there are people who are good at lots of things (I hate them). Like I have a friend who plays the guitar and trumpet, can sing, has a black belt in karate, and is really really smart. He was also the president of everything he was in. My intention is to show that Kamea is just a normal person, and normal people can do things like dance (not me, but some people).