A/N: Thanks Dennis, since it's not canon they actually stepped onto Andor(ia), I thought I could get away with Aenar being a moon. Neptune60, boy – I think this story hit a nerve with you. You seem angry at how this story is progressing, so I have a suggestion: stop reading this and go back to reading a version of Enterprise you enjoy. Seems like there are lot of Trip and T'Pol fics out there. (This isn't one of them.) And as painting T'Pol in a bad light – I guess we just disagree.
Plan B, Part 6When Archer stepped off the transport platform, he was surprised to see T'Pol. These days, transporting seemed rudimentary – you transport out, you transport back and then you go back to work. It was hard to believe at one point in time he thought the contraption was dangerous.
After introducing Jhamel, T'Pol gave a nod.
"Welcome aboard."
"It's warm here," Jhamel said, smiling.
T'Pol cocked her eyebrow. "It's approximately 23 degrees."
"You're a Vulcan?" Jhamel asked.
T'Pol's eyes glanced over to Archer and then back to the blind woman. "Yes. How did you know?"
"Although I didn't read your mind, I could sense something that surrounds you … something like a wall. I've heard that's true for your species."
The Vulcan furrowed her brow.
Archer explained. "It's true. Vulcans try and hide their telepathic abilities."
It drew a skeptically raised brow from his first officer who still wasn't exactly clear what information he'd gained from Surak. Truth be told, he wasn't either. Sometimes things popped into his head that he clearly never experienced. Before he could open his mouth to explain, she anticipated his word.
"Surak?" she asked.
He shrugged.
The Aenar gave a larger smile. After blindly staring into space, she turned her head in the general direction of Archer.
"Your wife?" Jhamel asked.
Archer furrowed his brow and scanned the Vulcan with his eyes. "Yes."
"I could tell," she said. Her lips sloped up.
"Can't everyone," Shran grumbled.
The captain was about to roll his eyes when the Aenar spoke again.
"Although, I would say your marriage is … unique," Jhamel said.
"Yes it is." Without saying more, Archer decided to end the conversation. "Our telepressence unit is located in Sickbay."
Shran took her elbow and the two headed off. Archer was about to march behind them when T'Pol snagged his arm.
"We were able to track the marauder," she said. "Captain, I'm not certain how successful the telepressence will be. When I used it, it was …."
After a few seconds of silence, he asked, "You okay?"
"It was not an entirely pleasant experience."
His eyes must've stayed on her longer than he expected, because she answered his question. "I'm fine."
"Good," he said. If T'Pol had trouble, I wonder how Jhamel will do?
With more than a raised eyebrow, she stared into his eyes. "It'll take some time to track the alien ship."
He nodded, still lost in thought.
"I doubt it will work," she said. "She seems young and inexperienced."
"That's what I thought about you when you first came aboard." As her lips flattened, he smiled more.
"Practicing your Tellarite?" she asked.
"Nope, just teasing my wife." He gave her a quick wink. "I'll get her acquainted with the device. You have the Bridge."
T'Pol strode on toward the turbolift and Archer took a right at the next junction, toward Sickbay.
"Wife" ... doesn't sound all that bad.
Midnight came and went and both Archer and T'Pol were both on the Bridge. The situation made it imperative they both were there. And, just as Archer had hoped and T'Pol had doubted, the marauder ships (there were two of them) were destroyed. A debt of gratitude was shared with Jhamel over the com and then relayed in person on their way to bed.
The Aenar gave a sad smile and accepted the thanks. Shran seemed to take strange pride in the young woman's success and T'Pol couldn't help but wonder whether the blue man possibly had found a new love.
Stranger things had been known to happen, she thought quoting something the humans had said before.
When they finally reached his room, the two watched each other awkwardly until Jonathan excused himself and rifled through his drawers for the appropriate apparel.
T'Pol mindlessly fiddled with the bed sheets and sweatpants, she decided to broach a delicate subject.
"I suspect Shran will come into our room tonight. I suggest you not wear a shirt."
His eyebrows climbed onto his head and his mouth already formed a million ways of saying "no."
"Having a bear chest indicates intimacy. We may be able to fool him into thinking more is happening between us."
Archer's stance widened and he threw his chest out defensively. "Shran said he wouldn't visit again."
"He will," she said.
"Oh really? What makes you say that?"
She refrained from heaving a small sigh and then said words she never thought would leave her mouth. "I believe the commander is interested in Jhamel. He may look to us as a cue for what to do."
The human waved his hand in front of him and sounded definite. "No way."
"He's lonely. People will do many things when they're lonely."
Her mind drifted to almost a year earlier when she had insisted Tucker spend time with her instead of a MACO. The idea had seemed harmless, but when Trip had started touching her, she noticed she wanted to be touched – touched more, caressed. Inexplicably, she'd removed her robe and purred at him – hoping to engage him in sexual relations.
The next morning had been an embarrassment. How she'd ever let her emotions spin so far out of control was baffling … it would've been baffling to anyone who followed strict Vulcan tradition. She'd conjectured it was the trellium even as she woke him up to ask her to leave her room.
Ironically, there were some of the same feelings present tonight – the need to be touched. But, what outweighed those emotions was the need to be in Jonathan's presence … and for him to be in hers.
Friendship?
After leveling the comment about loneliness, he stared for a moment too long and then uttered words she thought she'd never hear.
"Are you and Trip still …?"
"Pardon me?"
Staring down at the ground he continued. "It's none of my business … well, actually it's ship's business, but …."
She waited.
"Is there … something …?"
"Yes?"
"Is there something going on?"
Blinking a few times didn't deter him, but made him glance away. As she struggled to find the words to explain, adequately, the situation, she felt him grow more uncomfortable.
"I mean, it's up to you two what you do in your personal time."
She remained quiet.
"I just … well …," he said. After gazing into her eyes a few more seconds, he decided to rid himself of the question.
"Forget it."
"Captain, I …."
"Never mind."
He walked into the bathroom as she watched the closed door, pondering the right thing to say. When he exited, with his shirt on, she addressed his unspoken question.
"Perhaps you should sit down."
Carefully, he folded himself in half and crossed his legs.
"Trip and I …," she began
He waited.
"We … assisted each other 'through a rough patch.'"
"A rough patch?"
"Perhaps it's more appropriate to say we assisted each other during a difficult time."
"Assisted?" he said, uncrossing his legs.
"Yes."
"Does that mean …?"
"Yes."
"I see."
She remained quiet.
"And are you still …?" he asked.
"No."
"Not even after your divorce?"
"No."
He was silent.
"My choice."
"Oh," he said.
Both looked at each other for a few seconds. "Do you have other questions?" she asked.
"Uhm, no."
She could tell he did, but let the remark stand.
"I'll return momentarily," she said.
As she made her way into the bathroom and changed, she realized how unprofessional his questions were; he wasn't asking as strictly her commander. Instead, he seemed to ask for other reasons.
Interesting.
They were questions she'd wanted to answer anyway. In fact, she'd wanted him to become aware of her relationship with Commander Tucker last year in The Expanse. She was never clear why she'd wanted that attention from him. It wasn't logical.
After changing into her pajamas and getting ready for bed, she noted with some satisfaction, Jonathan was bare-chested.
At first the visage brought satisfaction. Soon after, it brought curiosity – the need to feel it up against her bare skin.
Impossible.
Climbing into bed, she was the first to turn off the light. As her eyes closed, she discerned a disappointed snort as his head hit the pillow.
A water polo dream came to an abrupt end as T'Pol grabbed his arm, jerked his body toward her and pressed her lips against his. Not only did her lips mesh to his, her hands combed through his hair and she moaned into his parted mouth.
Without a chance to register the event, he was yanked over her reposed form and his lips were pulled to hers again. Rather than fight, in a sleepy haze, he kissed her mouth, scooped his tongue against hers and pressed his lips against her neck and ears.
Just as suddenly as it began it came to a crashing halt.
"I …," she said. Before she could finish her sentence and as he tried to collect his breath, she rolled on top of him and placed his fingers against the top button of her pajama top.
"Undo them. Hurry," she instructed.
Puzzled, he worked to undo the first button.
She let out a moan and urged him on. "Jonathan."
This is crazy.
"Hurry," she said.
When his trembling fingers found the buttons again, she wrapped her hand around his, stopping him. As he watched on with confusion, T'Pol rolled off.
"I apologize," she said.
As he was about to explain he was pretty worked up, too, she gave him more information.
"I don't think he'll be back," she whispered.
Him? Shran? he thought.
"I was surprised he came in a second time. I'm sure he wanted to clarify we were heading toward the throes of passion."
I certainly was.
"You … role play … well," she said.
"Thanks," he said. A stray hand pushed his hair back as he internally tried to stymie his libido.
With a lopsided frown, he noticed her cheeks were flushed green – as if she was enthralled with their activities. Sighing only internally, he decided that was it. Without skipping a beat, Archer grabbed his pillow and struggled out of the covers.
"Where are you going?" she asked.
"To sleep on the floor."
"You'll be tired and …."
"It's for the best."
"Shran could come in again," T'Pol said. The information had been a warning and the top button of her blouse laid splayed open as bait. He shook his head and walked toward the door of his room.
"I can lock him out."
"But …."
"That's final," he said. Thumbing his fingers against the panel and then walking to the middle of the floor he settled down.
"He can still override that code."
The captain turned around annoyed and threw an angry glare even in the darkness.
"It was in paragraph …," she began.
"I read it!"
"Then you know …."
"Yes. It doesn't matter. I'm calling it a night," he said. Ending the conversation, he threw himself down on the deck plating and stared up at the darkened ceiling. He risked a glance and saw her rub her cheek into her pillow. Snapping his eyes away, he focused back on the ceiling and then closed them with frustration. Instead of heading straight to sleep he wondered whether she was still awake and if her body was as titillated as his.
After only an hour, he heard a voice cut through the dark. "He's pacing outside."
"Are you sure?" he whispered, fully awake.
"Oh yes." After a second, she whispered again. "Come here."
After tip toeing over to her, he sat on the bed.
"Andorians can't hear very well, but I think we should whisper," she said.
He nodded. "You said you didn't think he'd come back," he said.
T'Pol remained silent for a few seconds. "I believe he might be trying to listen for …."
The comment drifted off into the air. He waited for a few seconds for her to continue the thought, but it was never completed.
"Listen for … what?" he asked.
Even in the darkness, he could feel her eyes on him as if the news she was about to deliver would be embarrassing. He braced himself.
"To determine whether we are … enjoying a union."
Enjoying a union? Does she mean ….
Coughing lightly into her hand, she clarified. "Having sexual relations."
Oh, God.
"Do you think he'll come in?" he asked.
"As I said, Andorians don't hear well."
"I think we should just tell him that we aren't married and …."
"Get under the covers," she instructed.
A furrow sprang up between his eyes. "T'Pol."
"I believe we can continue the ruse without actually participating in …."
"This is not a good idea."
"Follow my lead," she said.
Almost as if on cue, he heard someone entering codes to the room outside. Without thinking, he jumped under the covers, lying loosely on top of his first officer as she brought the bedspread over their heads. Although he never heard the door slide open and closed, he could feel someone in the room with them – watching them, waiting to speak. Just as he was about to call everything off, he heard T'Pol moan under him.
Staring on with confusion, he was about to ask if she was all right, when she groaned again.
"Yes," she said. Widening her eyes, she seemed to encourage him to do the same.
I get it.
"Oh," he said, joining in. Deciding to give a bit of reality to it, he mimicked the motions of a … union … without putting her (or himself) in any undue humiliation.
T'Pol's eyes slipped shut.
She's probably just as uncomfortable as I am.
And then suddenly her lips found his, catching him in a half groan.
I'm sure she's doing this to make it seem more real.
When their lips broke apart, she moaned softly into his ear, and his body came alive.
"Oh, God," he whispered.
Swallowing deeply, he continued the ruse, hoping to stifle his interest when their hips accidentally collided inappropriately. A curse left his lips and he heard a more authentic moan escape her mouth.
Instead of backing away, she kissed him with more fervor and he permitted their bodies to connect just as before. His hand cupped her face and his thumb stroked her cheekbone.
"Yes," she said.
His fingers rushed through her hair and he felt his teeth tug at her lips. Unable to stop, their tongues captured the other's and he moaned deeply into her throat. The heat of the moment chased away all thought and rationality and their movements became more hurried and sensual. Her fingers felt his chest, skimming through the hair that grew there, and his mouth and tongue darted along her neck.
"God, you feel so good," he whispered. Continuing on autopilot, his hand flattened up against the smooth skin of her waist and slid up a few centimeters. Feeling one of her ribs, he huffed into her open mouth and was about to let his hand wander up further, when she disturbed the moment.
"He's gone," she said in a pant. A hand snaked around his, warning him to stop. Letting their fingers move away from each other, they both emerged for air – both literally and figuratively.
Falling clumsily at her side, he stared at the ceiling wondering what the hell had gotten into him. Wearily, he brought a hand over his eyes and left it there as his mind replayed everything that had happened since they'd crawled into bed with each other.
"Jonathan …."
It didn't make sense to answer, so he remained quiet, hoping to slow the Latin beat his heart was thumping to.
"I don't believe that was Shran," she said.
"What?" he finally said. Rolling onto his side he waited for an answer.
"The smell in the room … the scent …. I wasn't able to discern it until just now."
He eyed her suspiciously.
She said, avoiding his gaze, "It was Trip."
TBC
