It was late when T'Pol entered the mess hall. Most crewmen were in their quarters, many fast asleep by now. The hallways had been blissfully quiet on her way.
She had tried to meditate, but was still just a bit on edge. Nothing to be concerned about, of course, just more restless somehow than she was accustomed. Certainly it had been nothing more than dining so late. She'd been so late in fact, that she had decided to forgo dessert, as she was the last one to leave and didn't want the cleanup crew to stay later than necessary. There had been one slice of pie left when she'd gone to her quarters over two hours ago.
Heading directly for the case, she peered in expectantly.
"If you're looking for the pecan, the last slice is gone," a voice from behind her called with amusement.
She hadn't seen him when she'd walked in, so intent was she on her quest. T'Pol turned to Trip, knowing before she did that he was eying her with an enormously pleased look on his face.
"Don't go glaring now, or I won't be nice and offer to share," he said, hiding another grin by taking a bite. True to his word, he had pushed the plate halfway between himself and the chair to his right. Without comment, T'Pol picked up a fork and joined him.
Seating herself gingerly and trying not to appear too eager, she said, "It appears I'm not the only one up late this evening."
"Aww, c'mon," he replied, pursing his lips at her, "Don't pretend you didn't come all the way down here just because you've been craving this slice of pie since dinner." He winked at her then, saying, "I wasn't really all that hungry, but for some reason, I just couldn't get pecan pie out of my head tonight." He finished by biting down on a forkful, laughing at the same time.
"You're saying that you're here on my account?" His only response was a bigger grin.
She tried to ignore him and helped herself to a small bite, wishing instantly that she had brought something to wash it down with. Her lips pursed slightly in what might have been a grimace from someone else.
"Bad taste?"
"In companions?" she responded, causing Trip to grin hugely. Whether it was at another failed attempt at humor or his knowledge that she regretted the unconscious effort, she wasn't sure.
"I think you're getting better," he said, tongue literally in cheek in his way that showed more mirth than it hid. Eyes back on the table, he took another large forkful from the plate. As the bite disappeared, T'Pol remembered again how thirsty she was.
"Well, it's…hang on," he said getting up, "Chamomile?" T'Pol nodded as he walked to the beverage dispenser and returned with a steaming cup
It's only fair after all, an even trade. I pick up unusual physiology traits from you, and you pick up…"
"Bad jokes."
He grinned again.
"I fail to see how empathy for your… sense of humor can be considered an even trade.
Backing off on his teasing just a little, Trip responded placatingly, "I just mean that I'm picking up some of your stronger personality traits and you're getting mine…It's not my fault if being devilishly clever and charming to boot are my best features."
T'Pol responded with a skeptical raise of an eyebrow. In order to avoid a more distinct response, she took another bite of the pie. Shifting slightly to better reach the plate, her knee inadvertently brushed his. She was almost certain she'd heard a small intake of breath, but by the time she'd suddenly looked up, the Commander was overcome by a sudden fit of coughing.
He stood suddenly, smacking his lips, and went to the beverage dispenser for some coffee. Regaining his composure, Trip looked wryly at T'Pol, her usual mask in place, if just a bit too composed. As he sat back down, T'Pol continued to stare at nothing near his shoulder, her eyebrows rising in concert with the cup she brought to her lips.
Watching her studiously ignoring him, Trip's mind started working. Then he got an idea. A sneaky idea. Trip got a devious, sneaky idea. Shifting himself to face her more fully, Trip moved to the side just a bit and stretched out his legs. In the process, his foot glanced every so slightly along the back of her heel. T'Pol jerked, breaking the contact.
"Sorry," he said smoothly, "did I kick you?" His mouth flattened in a polite smile, while his eyes held hers. He looked at her innocently, and slowly took another bite of pie.
Unconsciously, T'Pol liked her lips.
She shifted her legs away a little, but at the same moment, Trip crossed his, and their feet tangled in passing. Before she could apologize, Trip said nonchalantly, "What's the story with this M-Class we're heading to?"
Grasping quickly to the new subject, T'Pol replied, "The planet is called Gohran. It's people, the Gonawi, have requested the assistance of Vulcan in repairing their primary power grid."
"A planet-wide power system," he said musingly. "Sounds like quite a hefty project. He was staring at nothing, as though deep in thought. As he seemed to consider the ramifications of the job, his foot slowly began to flick back and forth. At each pass, it made a slow rub against T'Pol's calf. She barely noticed. As Trip outlined his expectations of the system's specifications, he pulled thoughtfully on his bottom lip. Every so often, he slowly ran the pad of his thumb along its fleshy inside.
"Don't you think?" he said, stopping his movements and looking directly at her.
"Excuse me?" she asked, nonplussed.
"I said, it's a little odd for the Vulcans to ask us to stop by for them."
He dropped his eyes away from hers as she answered hesitantly, "They…they don't have any ships in the quadrant right now, and I understand there's some urgency, as entire planet relies in some measure…" her voice drifted off as his foot took up its lazy tapping again, this time never quite losing contact with her. She'd nearly lost her train of thought completely, when she glanced up to see a quick smirk play across Trip's lips. He wasn't looking at her and didn't notice she'd seen him.
T'Pol nearly raised an eyebrow at him, but thought better of it. Several of their encounters over the last few days drifted through her thoughts as she realized Trip was taking great satisfaction in teasing her.
She moved forward slightly as she leaned onto the table, shortening the distance between herself and her fellow officer. His foot had not lost contact with her left leg, but she crossed her right knee over the left, bringing her own foot in contact with Trip. Slowly, deliberately, she flexed her foot, drifting the instep of her soft shoe up Trip's calf.
He took a sip of coffee.
Her voice became a little softer as she said, "Vulcan has come to rely rather heavily on our friendship with Earth." Lazily, her foot made the return trip, "It's true that we still don't always agree, but certainly Starfleet has gained the respect of the High Council over the last few years. It is not unprecedented for them to ask for Enterprise's assistance." She leaned over and slowly took the last bite of pie into her mouth, removing the fork with infinite care before she set it down.
Trip watched as the morsel passed her lips, as the utensil slowly worked its way past her mouth and back out. He was pretty sure he was supposed to respond in some way, but just then, T'Pol's calf brushed against his.
"Um."
"Thank you for sharing with me," T'Pol said. She seemed to be a bit entangled in her chair, and had to lean forward heavily on the table as she extricated herself. Trip glanced up to see if she needed help, just as her torso passed his field of vision. She had leaned in even more, her breasts mere inches from his face. As she straightened, she said quietly, "Goodnight." Before Trip could remember a suitable reply, she was gone. He sat a little stunned before a slow smile crept across his lips. He took another thoughtful sip of coffee before gathering up their dishes and returning to his quarters.
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She took a deep breath and started again. Carefully, she concentrated on the flame in front of her. She pushed aside how long it had been since she'd even needed the flame to focus. She stared at the flame again. As she watched, it moved in a dancing pattern, the light flickering now and again as though with humor. She pushed aside thoughts of light dancing in laughing eyes. Taking a deep breath, she stared at the candle again…
The chime of her door sounded. T'Pol was resigned when she responded, "Come in." She schooled her features, trying to looks as though she'd been deep in concentration.
"Who do ya' think you're fooling?" he said without preamble.
T'Pol blinked at the not unexpected apparition also known as Commander Tucker. The door slid quietly shut behind him as she worked up a baleful glare to shoot at him.
"Can we just skip right past the part where you tell me you have no idea what I'm talking about?" he went on, "You're keeping me up."
"Excuse me?" she replied, trying to grasp on to the conversation.
"You're having trouble sleeping, right?" T'Pol sat up straighter, her eyes avoiding his. "Every time I just about drift off, you start tossing and turning again and wake me back up."
"Have you come to lodge a formal complaint, or simply to revel in my discomfort?"
Trip grinned for the first time since walking through the door and sat down opposite her. "See, you are getting better all the time," he said with a wink. T'Pol did glare at him, then.
"I'm sorry," he said, though his smile widened and he didn't look the least bit repentant. "I thought I'd come down and give both of us some relief."
T'Pol raised an eyebrow at his comment, though she knew he hadn't meant it the way that it sounded.
His smile turned into a wry smirk and he said, "I meant with neuro-pressure." He knew she knew what he'd meant, but all the same, her face relaxed when he said it. "I know it's been a while, but I think I can get back up to speed pretty quickly. I've kept up my breathing."
T'Pol looked at the floor. She was trying not to look like she was considering the offer, nor surprised that he'd been practicing. He knew her too well to miss the subtle signs, though. He was just thinking that he could read her like a book when she look up sharply and narrowed her eyes slightly. Trips eyes widened in feigned innocence. "Hey, if you don't think you're up for it, that's fine. "
"I've studied Vulcan neuro-pressure for many years," she replied, her voice tensing slightly, "I don't require any special preparation."
"Great," he replied, the grin returning, "What are we waiting for?"
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They had moved quickly through less challenging positions quickly. Trip had been telling the truth, he had been keeping up his breathing. However, he wasn't entirely honest about why he was there. When they'd started, he was even more tense than she.
Trip let out a deep satisfied breath that came out just short of a moan. "I've missed these sessions," he said languidly into his folded arms. His voice was muffled, but she'd understood him. She said nothing in return.
"We should start moving into the more challenging positions. Sit up." As he sat up, she slowly guided him back down so that his head rested just in front of her bent knees. He gazed up at her, but she wasn't looking at him.
"Okay," he said quietly.
"Okay?" she replied, looking down.
"Okay, I confess," he said holding her eyes with his. "I've missed you, too."
She said nothing again, merely nodding slightly. He could see how her face softened, though. T'Pol stretched her arms forward, splaying her fingers low on each side of Trip's rib cage. She leaned forward.
He took a deep breath expectantly, but not in preparation for the position. As she leaned over him, her short sleeping top hung straight down, pulling slowly away from her body the more she moved. Trip was still looking up. As had happened before, he was treated to a private viewing of her spectacular breasts. Usually, the gentleman in him convinced him to look away after a short time. He didn't even try to deny himself the pleasure this time.
T'Pol sat back before the posture was complete. "Have you always been able to do that?" she asked. She didn't look displeased, or at least not angry. She was more speculative, he thought, and maybe a little intrigued.
"Yes," he said quietly, stroking his hand slowly up her bare arms to clasp her biceps in a simple posture. Still looking into his eyes, she did the same, and they breathed together.
At her guidance, Trip pulled himself into a sitting position and then leaned forward onto his hands. From behind him, he felt T'Pol's torso meld into his back as she wrapped her arms across him, pressing her fingers deep into opposing sides. He took a deep breath and held it as the now familiar sensation moved liquidly through him. Slowly, he let it out again.
T'Pol had already started to move in front of him as Trip sat up straight again. They both moved to a kneeling position, knees barely touching. Trip reached out and behind her, hands moving to her back. They dipped underneath the hem of her top and stroked slowly up her back until the came to rest just under her shoulder blades. He waited until her own hands were position on his bare back before pressing down lightly, pulling her forward with the pressure.
Both of their backs bent slightly as their bodies moved closer together. As one, they bowed their heads, resting foreheads against shoulders. Before she could take her breath, Trip moved his lips over the curve in her neck. He trailed several soft, slow kisses along the curve and on up, before returning to her shoulder. As one, they breathed in deeply.
They raised their heads and T'Pol started to move back from him and from the thoughts stirring in his mind.
He chuckled low in his throat, held onto her hands and said quietly, "What are we going to do?"
"About what?" she replied, feigning confusion to gain more time.
He tilted his head ironically and said, "You know. This connection isn't going away. In fact, it's getting stronger. What's going to happen if one of us wants to get married?"
She pulled away from him, and he sighed. Frustration was starting to build up in him. Seeing that he misunderstood her gesture, T'Pol said quickly, "I haven't told you everything."
"Oh, this should be good," he said wryly, moving back into a sitting position. He was already beginning to glare.
Ignoring his quickly changing mood, T'Pol settled herself more comfortably and went on, "It is not merely mating that creates a psychic connection. They key element is the Vulcan marriage ceremony. When one is thinking exclusively of the intended partner, a deep initial connection is formed.
"So now this is my fault," he shot at her, exasperated. He didn't bother to tell her
that he'd thought of nothing but her during her wedding to Kos. It would have been obvious to any outside observer.
"There are a number of steps leading up to the Bond including a great deal of time spent in one another's company. A certain amount of predisposition, and eventually a physical joining."
Trip was rapidly losing his cool. "What are you saying, we've got to get married, now?"
"I'm saying that by Vulcan standards, we already are."
Trip sat in stunned silence for a moment before saying, "Well, how do we get divorced?"
He knew her well enough to see her ire. He rolled his eyes at his ability to put his foot in his mouth and backpeddled for all he was worth. "I only meant that I wouldn't want you to be stuck with me forever just because I couldn't help loving you and messed up your wedding ceremony. I mean, you were able to break it off with Kos." He stared back at his hands as he said, "And I know how much loyalty to Vulcan and to your family in particular means to you."
Her features softened almost imperceptibly, but they spoke volumes to him. "My mother was rather taken with you." He looked a little confused, so she explained, "Before my mother's death, we shared a mind meld."
"That thing you did with Hoshi?"
"Yes. It was brief, but I was able to see some of her thoughts." She didn't look at him as she said, "as well as some of her memories." Trip gulped a little, remembering his last conversation with her mother.
Not noticing his discomfort, T'Pol continued, "Kos and I participated in the ceremony in name only. No bond was formed." Seeing that he still didn't understand, she went on, "It takes concentration from both parties in order for the connection to be made," she said quietly, "but the bond is permanent."
He probably should have been surprised by that. Worried, confused, maybe a little freaked, but he wasn't. It simply felt like everything in his life had suddenly clicked into place. All the dancing around they'd done since he'd come back, since they left dry dock in the first place, all seemed a little ridiculous.
"Look, T'Pol, I'm…I'm tired of pretending." He looked up at her before going on, "Hell, it's not like I can really hide anything from you any more anyway." She opened her mouth to speak, but he interrupted her, "I know, I know, Vulcans don't feel emotions." He stared back down at her hands, his words coming out in a confused rush, "at least not like humans do, or maybe you don't really have them at all, that's to say…" She opened her mouth again, but he went on, "What I'm trying to say is it doesn't matter. I don't know when or how or why it happened, but I fell in love with you. Bond or not, that's not going away.
When she tried one last time to speak, Trip covered her mouth with his. He broke contact as they both rose, but his hand snaked forward to stroke the back of her neck. He kissed her again, drawing her with him towards the bed.
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Author's note: Apologies to Dr. Seuss and the Grinch for mangling their line. I just couldn't resist putting it there. Sorry also for the long delay this time. It took me forever to decide what order I wanted to go in next, and even longer to get it all down. On the up side, the next chapter is already half written.
Up next: the stuff we've all been waiting for.