I dedicate this story to Begoogled, one of my most faithful followers! I'm sure you'll enjoy Hoshi's role in this, my dear friend ;-)
A humorous piece stemming from that scene in "Stigma" where Trip and Malcolm comment on Feazal's attraction to Trip. Beta read, as usual, by my fabulous beta readers Gabi2305 and RoaringMice, to whom I am truly indebted after so many years of very useful help.
Captain's personal log.
The news that the High Command will not recall our Science Officer, after finding out about her Panaar syndrome, has lifted a weight off my heart. I never thought I'd say this, but I've come to rely on T'Pol, and even to like our resident Vulcan.
After saying good-bye to Phlox's second wife – to the relief of Trip, who almost locked himself in Engineering to escape her attentions – we have resumed our course.
On a personal note, today I received a visual call from an old friend from Starfleet Academy, Captain Johansson, who fooled me into believing that he had received orders to replace me. Of course, living on a Starship it is easy to lose track of Earth's calendar: it turns out today – or tomorrow, depending on where you live – is the first of April. Last time I was made the target of an April's Fool practical joke I must've been nine…
Archer stopped the recording and chuckled softly, rubbing Porthos on the head. "Want me to play an April's Fool joke on you, Porthos?"
*The gym*
"So, did you manage to escape with your virtue intact?"
Trip took in the rare full smile that was blossoming on Malcolm's lips and groaned. "Barely," he muttered, setting the speed on a treadmill. "But hey, that's the price to pay for being so charmin'," he said, putting a heavy Southern accent in the words.
A moment later he was jogging, a smile tugging at his own lips as he recalled the advances that Phlox's attractive second wife Feazal had openly lavished on him. His virtue might be intact, but his ego had not escaped unscathed, so to speak…
Judging by the cone of sweat on his T-shirt, Malcolm must have been on his stationary bike for some time. "How much longer do you have on that thing?" Trip enquired, stretching his neck in vain to check the countdown clock on his friend's bike.
"I'm done, actually."
Malcolm slowed to a halt and slipped off the saddle. Grabbing a towel, he wiped his face and neck, while casting Trip impish glances. "Did you talk to Phlox, in the end?" he eventually asked.
The man rubbed the towel over his head a couple of times, emerging from it with his hair standing on end. He offered such a different picture from the usual prim Lieutenant that Trip couldn't help grinning.
"Did you?" Malcolm insisted, immediately raking a self-conscious hand through his hair to flatten it down.
"As a matter of fact, I did," Trip replied, lifting innocent eyebrows.
"You didn't!"
"Nosy, aren't we," Trip commented, because the gritty quality of Malcolm's voice had spoken of unrestrained curiosity.
"Come on, Trip," Malcolm huffed, "don't be such a spoilsport! What did Phlox do? Unleash his bat on you?"
Trip thought of his embarrassment at having to tell their C.M.O. about his wife's advances and cringed. He cast his expectant friend a deadpan look. "If you must know, he virtually pushed me into his wife's arms."
Malcolm opened his mouth to speak, but for a couple of seconds no words came out. "Surely you don't mean he approved of…"
"Yup." Trip raised the speed, unsuccessfully trying to outrun that specific memory and leave it behind. "He said it was my loss if I didn't grab the chance."
There was another long beat of stunned silence, followed by a sound of disbelief. "I say, that's… well… bloody unexpected," Malcolm stuttered. He narrowed his gaze in thought, staring at an undefined spot on the far wall. "Although if each Denobulan is entitled to – what – three wives and each wife…" His gaze tracked sharply back to Trip. "And did you? Grab the chance?"
"Malcolm!" Trip cried out in outrage. He rolled his eyes. "'Course I didn't. What d'ya take me for? I'm a gentleman!"
"Ah yes, I was forgetting that." Malcolm's voice became muffled, as he started to pull on his sweatshirt. "After all," he said before completely disappearing inside it, "… since we launched you only got pregnant once," he resumed, reappearing, "and to my count, have only dated two aliens so far, one of them a princess, no less."
"Look now…" A smile pasted on his lips, Trip jumped off the treadmill meaning to reach for a basketball to throw at Malcolm, but the man nimbly got to the gym doors and backed out of the room.
"See you, Commander," Malcolm said, making a perfect toss of his towel into the laundry basket. And with a sharp military salute he disappeared behind the closing doors.
Trip shook his head, chuckling, and returned to his jogging.
*Trip's quarters, that night*
Entering his quarters that evening, Trip blew out a breath. It had been a long day. Still standing, he took off one boot and let it drop to the floor; then, hopping on one foot, he took off the other, and started unzipping his uniform. Soon his discarded items of clothing were like breadcrumbs leading to the bathroom, and he was under the shower.
It was a few minutes later, as he was picking up the mess, that he noticed it: a little red light was flashing on his computer. A message in his inbox. Surely, his mama. She hardly ever let a week go by without dropping him a line. He eased into his chair.
Dearest Commander, it has only been a few hours, but I already dearly miss your sunny smile and… all the rest of handsome you! Have you been thinking of me?
As his heart skipped a beat, Trip's eyes scurried to the name at the bottom of the message, though he had a funny feeling he already knew what it would be. Sure enough. He stared at it for a long moment. Warily, he then traced back to the beginning and continued to read.
How is our microscope? If only social relationships were like that amazing instrument, which makes you see what you normally don't – if you see what I mean.
"I'd need to be blind not to see it…" Trip muttered.
I trust the instrument is still working well. Is the reflectometer collimating the neutrons properly?
"Yeah, just peachy."
Pity *we* did not colli…mate…
Trip almost slipped off his seat. "Hell! I don't believe this woman!"
But I might see you sooner than you expect, and then who knows.
Love, Feezal
Trip blinked. This couldn't be happening. Raking a nervous hand through his still damp hair, he collapsed against the back of his chair, letting out a breath that left him like a deflated tire.
*The Mess Hall, the next day at lunch*
"Is this seat taken, Commaander?"
Recognizing the accent, Trip heaved an inner sigh. His first thought, the night before, had been to go to Malcolm's quarters and tell him all about Feezal's message, but then he had remembered the man's bantering in the gym, and had changed his mind. The matter had suddenly become no joke. Indeed, it was damn serious.
"Trip?"
"Hm?"
Malcolm was standing with a tray in his hands, the picture of the proper little soldier; he jerked his chin meaningfully towards an empty seat at the table. "Mind if I sit with you?" the Lieutenant spelled out slowly, as if he were talking to a moron.
"Yeah. I mean, no." With an inner sigh, Trip pushed the chair out for him. Surreptitiously glancing at him, he watched Malcolm settle down and spread his napkin.
"What's the matter, not hungry?" Malcolm asked, taking in Trip's untouched lunch.
"Just got here," Trip lied. He took his fork and speared a ravioli, indeed without much appetite.
They ate in silence for a few minutes.
"You aren't mad at me for teasing you last night in the gym, are you?" Malcolm wondered after a while, with a frowning glance. "You're being awfully quiet."
"I'm not that touchy." Trip made a dismissive gesture. "Nah. Just… somethin' on my mind."
"Something," Malcolm repeated, as an invitation to say more. "On your mind."
"Is there an echo in here?" Trip studied the blue-grey eyes that were now staring at him. The damned man was as unreadable as always. Boy, he hated that! Not a chance to know if he could trust telling Malcolm about his problem or if he'd start making fun of the situation again. But actually, knowing him, his sixth sense had already been put on the alert, so no point being secretive. Besides, he needed to confide in someone.
"I got a message," Trip dropped. He looked for a reaction that did not come. Great. After pressing him to speak, now Malcolm seemed fully absorbed in his bloody mashed potatoes. "From Feezal…"
That got the man's attention. Malcolm's gaze came up sharply.
"You don't say," he said in a gruff voice. Leaning forward, he darted a couple of glances around, checking for privacy. "And what did her massage – pardon me – message say?"
"I knew it!" Trip ranted. "This is serious, Malcolm!" He leaned forward too and said in an urgent low voice just inches from Malcolm's face, "The lady's not gonna let go of me!"
Malcolm lifted amused eyebrows. "I can think of worse things in life than being pursued by an attractive woman."
Trip clenched his jaw. "That's exactly it, she's pursuing me! You're the Security Officer, do somethin' about it. There must be some rule in your book that requires you to defend a crewmember against an aggressive alien female."
They both leaned back again.
"I'm afraid you'll have to fend for yourself, Commander," Malcolm said with a grin. "A knight in shining armour only rescues damsels in distress." Turning serious again, he shook his head. "By now she's lightyears away, Trip. What are you worried about?"
Trip winced, rubbing his neck. "She says that I might see her sooner than I think..."
"Commander, Lieutenant. May I sit with you?"
Trip felt a blush creep up his neck. "Hoshi…" How long had she been standing there? With those gifted ears of hers, could she have overheard their conversation? Much as he liked Hoshi, he wasn't keen on having more people know about this.
"Hoshi." Malcolm promptly jumped to his feet and started helping their Communication Officer with a chair.
Trip studied them. Something seemed to pass between the gallant Lieutenant and pretty Linguist. Those two had been tiptoeing around each other for ages, he mused. But, of course, Malcolm would never ever dream of making a pass at a crewmember, let alone of a lesser rank. So, no chance darlin' Hosh, sorry.
"Good thing I noticed that that message from the Denobulan ship was for you, Commander," Hoshi said nonchalantly after sitting down, a dimple appearing at the side of her mouth. "I was about to forward it to Doctor Phlox."
"To… who?" Trip almost choked on his food while Malcolm, hand in front of his mouth, softly cast his way, "Speaking of forward messages…"
Hoshi's almond eyes tracked between the two of them a couple of times. "Is there a problem?" she asked.
"Ah, no, no problem," Trip quickly put in, catching his breath. "It was about that new microscope Mrs. Phlox came to show us how to use. Nothin' to do with the Doc."
Hoshi cleared her throat. "Then I'm glad I didn't read a word of it. Technical stuff isn't my cup of tea."
Trip heaved a silent sigh of relief. Not that he thought Hoshi would ever deliberately read someone else's mail, but a mistake could always happen. Beginning to feel a bit antsy, he stood up abruptly and said, "Gotta get back to Engineering." And with a contrived smile he made a quick escape.
In his hurry to get out of the Mess Hall, he almost bumped into Archer, who was coming in. "Sorry, Capt'n," he muttered. Trip took a step to go on his way, but Archer caught him by one arm and gently dragged him to one side of the doors.
"You okay, Trip?" the Captain asked, his usual very perceptive self.
Trip put on an 'everything peachy' expression. "Yeah, only my mind was already in Engineerin'."
"Try to get there in one piece, then," Archer bantered.
Maybe it was the warm smile on the man's face, or the knowledge that he could share just about anything with him, but all of a sudden Trip found himself wondering if this was not the friendly ear he had been looking for.
"Capt'n…" he began, bringing a hand to his brow and biting his lower lip. After all, Enterpirse's C.O. should be informed of any danger looming over his Chief Engineer's head!
"Trip?" Archer prompted, looking puzzled.
This being lunch time, however, there was a continuous coming and going of people, and Trip just as quickly changed his mind. He'd have to catch Archer some other time, alone. "Ah, nothin' important, Sir," he said. "I'm runnin' late. I'll tell ya another time."
Archer clamped a hand to Trip's shoulder. "You know where to find me."
*Late afternoon, on that same day*
Believe me Commander, you have barely seen anything yet.
"Darn!" Trip stared angrily at the new message he had just received. Two in two days!
I am sure that you would be pleasantly surprised if you ripped the veils, so to speak, and discovered all that lies beneath – I am talking of the microscope and its full potential, though you're welcome to rip any other veils, where I'm concerned.
"Oh hell!"
You may need more help with… the instructions.
"Yeah, the instructions!"
But we'll talk about it vis-à-vis, for I am happy to tell you that the Denobulan ship is taking me back, to retrieve some important documents I forgot in Phlox's quarters. And, no, I cannot have them scanned and forwarded…
Fortunately, I have no pressing matters to attend to at the moment, so I will be more than glad to spend some time on Enterprise in your, hopefully exciting, company.
See you soon!
Feazal
Trip jumped up from his chair. He had to talk to Phlox. He had to get him to… to do something to quench his wife's thirst!
Resolutely, he triggered the door open and let himself out.
"I really need to speak to ya, Doc," Trip began, charging into Sickbay like an angry bull. When Phlox looked at him, however, he lost his momentum. The Doctor didn't have his typical welcoming expression pasted on his face; as a matter of fact, he seemed rather pissed-off. Trip almost backpedalled. Hoshi couldn't have lied about not forwarding Feazal's message to Phlox, could she...?
Sparing Trip but a quick glance, Phlox returned to look into a cage of his menagerie. "That was the last time I fed you!" he ranted to something in there that gave a screech in response. "Know that I shall leave you on the next suitable planet." He held up a swollen finger– fortunately not the middle one. "It's the third time this week that the ungrateful creature has bit me!" he said to Trip. Leaning over the cage again, he added gruffly, "And to think that I always saved the best larvae for you!"
Trip tried to look sympathetic. He didn't want to know.
Phlox finally turned to give Trip his full attention. "What can I do for you, Commander?" he asked, still no hint of his usual geniality returning to his voice.
Steadying his resolve, Trip took another step forward. "Doc, I received…" he brought a hand to his head. "I received two messages from your wife." He grimaced. "Personal messages…"
Phlox's curiosity was immediately piqued. "Do you mean...?"
"I'm afraid so."
"Ah, the wiles of a Denobulan woman!" the Doctor said in a thick, dreamy voice, his anger instantly dissolved. "She is nothing if not persistent, is my Feazal, but as sweet as Draylax syrup." He fixed bright blue eyes on Trip. "Has she described to you all her delightful practices? Given you a rendezvous on your next shore leave?" he enquired, openly excited.
"Yeah, well, she's done better than that," Trip commented deadpan, thinking he was stating the obvious. Phlox, however, didn't seem to be catching on.
"You won't regret it, Commander. So, where will you meet?" he asked, eyes bright with anticipation.
Trip looked back speechlessly. Did Phlox not get the picture? "Where?" he stammered. "She's… she's comin' back on Enterprise…"
Phlox jerked his chin back. "What wonderful news!" Sore finger all but forgotten, he added, to himself, "I wonder if she will remember to bring the rose petals for the bath, this time." His lips finally reshaped into his proverbial smile. "When is she arriving?"
Trip swallowed hard. This was surreal. "Ya mean to tell me you don't know?"
*The Target Practice Compartment*
Malcolm took the rifle from Hoshi's hands and replaced it in the weapons' locker.
"You've come a long way, Ensign," he complimented her, returning to her side. His gaze kept wanting to linger on her lovely face, and he felt the beginning of a blush. No fraternizing, he sternly reminded himself, feeling a pang of conscience for the casual nature of their recent project.
"I still feel totally inept with a gun," Hoshi said flatly, a fleeting frown of discomfort creasing her brow.
Malcolm crossed his arms over his chest. "I wouldn't worry about it," he said, forcing his gaze to focus on the deck plating. "The important thing is to get you up to a good score, and you've already improved tremendously in that respect."
"If you say so, Lieutenant. But, believe me, it's only thanks to you."
Malcolm shifted on his feet, flattered. "I just gave you a few tips. You're a quick study."
"So," Hoshi wondered, with an abrupt change of subject and a conniving glance, "Any… news?"
Malcolm grinned. "I haven't heard anything."
"I will deny any responsibility: I hope you're aware of that, Lieutenant," Hoshi warned, humour openly dancing in her eyes.
There was a clearing of the throat.
"Aren't I scheduled for target practice just about now?" a Southern voice asked.
Malcolm and Hoshi exchanged a startled glance before turning to Trip.
"Commander," Malcolm greeted, instantly turning professional. He checked the time. "You're a few minutes early, actually."
Trip pinned him with narrowed eyes. "That suits me just fine. I'm lookin' forward to usin' a gun tonight, if only just against a target."
"I'd better go," Hoshi quickly put in. Carefully avoiding meeting anyone's gaze, she said, "Commander, Lieutenant," and left.
Malcolm studied Trip. The man, he realised, was following the retreating Linguist with a knitted brow.
"What the hell was that about denying responsibilities?" Trip wondered, once Hoshi was far enough away.
Malcolm turned his back on the Engineer and went to the weapons' locker.
"Malcolm?"
As he handed Trip the rifle he had just put away moments before, Malcolm met his inquisitive gaze. "Ah, that," he replied dismissively. "Something Hoshi needs to translate for me in Malaysian. She hasn't used the language in ages, she feels a bit rusty."
"Does she, now." Trip commented.
Malcolm caught the man studying him as he would the blueprints of a cloaking device. He picked up the command to start the practice session and glanced at Trip. "Shall we, Commander?"
*Hoshi's quarters, that night*
Hoshi had put a beauty mask on her face that made her look like a zombie. As she was supposed to keep it on for half an hour, she was relaxing in bed with the latest crime novel of her favourite Vulcan author – the logic of her criminals was amazingly astringent – when a soft beep alerted her that she had received a message.
She heaved a deep sigh. I hope it's not work-related, she thought as she got up. It came from the Armoury. She wondered if Malcolm had any news. Lips curving up, she opened it.
Hoshi,
this will probably come as a surprise to you and… well, I hope you'll understand but… I can no longer keep this inside, I must let you know what deep admiration I felt for you, earlier at target practice. I could never find the courage to say this to you in person… that's why I am writing.
The fact is… pardon my bluntness, but… I love a woman who is delicate and yet strong and determined.
"Wh-at?" Hoshi blurted out with a chortle, bringing a hand to her mouth.
And… yes, I must admit, I find that most attractive in you.
"Is this a joke or have you been drinking, Lieutenant?"
Hoshi's smile gradually fell as she read on.
If you're willing… we could get together for… different things… Given your talent with languages, I'm sure that you'll know what I mean. After all, teaching how to handle a gun is not the only thing I am good at…
Please, meet me in the observation lounge in fifteen minutes.
Yours, Malcolm
Hoshi stared at the monitor. It didn't take an interpreter to read through the lines of that last part.
"How dare you even suggest that I need lessons in… different things!" she spat out.
Then, spur of the moment and forgetting her appearance, she stormed out of her quarters. She could not wait as long as fifteen minutes – she decided – to put Malcolm in his right place.
*Malcolm's quarters, that night*
Malcolm finished checking the duty roster for the following week and closed the file. Grabbing his left wrist with his right hand, he stretched his arms high above his head, feeling all the little knots of tension in his back ease. He was about to get up from his desk and change into more comfortable clothes when a message appeared in his inbox. What now? he wondered with an inner sigh. He opened it. It was from Ensign Sato. Could Hoshi have learnt something new?
Lieutenant, I can't keep this from you any longer: your target practice lessons are the height of my week. I can't wait for the moment when I discard my Linguist robe (picture that in your mind…) and receive a weapon from your strong and slender hands. I get a frisson of real excitement.
"Blimey!"
To be perfectly clear, what makes it so special is that I get a chance to spend time alone with you. When the moment arrives, I feel such trepidation! Just thinking of your arms around me as you show me how to hold a rifle makes my blood rush.
"Good heavens!"
Lieutenant… Malcolm… Let's find out what else we could do together. I know you want to. *Wink*
Meet me in the observation lounge in fifteen minutes.
Hoshi.
"Bloody hell!"
Malcolm stared at the screen. The words seemed to jump at him and sear his eyes. Obviously, he'd given Hoshi too much confidence over the last couple of days. The stern voice of Admiral Reed sounded in his mind: No fraternization! What a reckless idiot he had been! He had broken the very rule he was determined never ever to break. This inappropriate message from Hoshi was entirely his fault. He immediately needed to-
The doorbell interrupted his self-scourging. He turned his head to it, wishing he had X-ray vision. It would either be someone bringing work-related problems, or Trip. He groaned, letting his shoulders slump. He felt he could face neither at the moment.
The bell rang again.
Well-aware that he could not ignore it, Malcolm closed the message, pushed to his feet, and went to trigger the door open.
"Ensign," he croaked out, jumping back. Not only was the very person who had just sent him that unbecoming proposition on his doorstep, but she looked like a tribal woman ready for a wild dance. Her face was all white and her hair, gathered on top of her head, stuck out in all directions like the leaves of a pineapple. Malcolm almost gasped; then, as a thought crossed his mind, he did: good grief, was she here to…
"Lieutenant," Hoshi began in a belligerent voice that made him cringe, "You said fifteen minutes, but I certainly wasn't going to wait that long, oh no, Sir!"
"Fifteen minutes," Malcolm repeated with a frown. "I said fifteen minutes?" It could not be a coincidence… His tactical mind immediately went to work.
Hoshi suddenly crossed her arms over her chest and her voice became so cold that her breath almost condensed. "Because I'm dying to tell you that you can stuff your different things. As of today, my target practice lessons are over."
"What?"
"And if I can't hit a Klingon from the distance of one metre that'll be just. too. bad."
Malcolm narrowed his gaze. There could only be one explanation.
"Consider yourself lucky that I don't report you to the Captain, Sir," Hoshi obliviously went on, shifting her weight on her feet. "Provided, of course, you promise to-"
Malcolm leaned out of the doorframe, looked right and left, grabbed Hoshi by an arm, and dragged her inside. The door swished closed.
"Hey! Just what do you think you're doing?" Hoshi cried out in alarm. She scuttled to a corner of the room and turned to face Malcolm in a fighting stance. "Let me remind you that I'm a black belt in Judo and Karate."
Malcolm quickly raised his hands in a pacifying gesture, feeling a tenuous control on the mirth that was bubbling inside him. "My intentions are entirely proper, Ensign, let me reassure you. I just want to avoid making a scene in the corridors and setting the grapevine in motion." Seeing confusion painted on Hoshi's face, he went to his desk and turned his monitor towards her. "Would you care to read this?" he said with a lift of the eyebrows, opening the message he had received and taking a few steps back to give her room.
Hoshi shifted her gaze between him and the monitor a couple of times, then took a couple of tentative steps forward. She bent and leaned with her palms on the desktop. A moment later she brought a hand to her mouth and chortled. "I-can't-wait-for-the-moment-when-I-discard-my-Linguist-robe-picture-that-in-your-mind?" she read all in one breath, her voice threatening to crack a couple of times. Straightening, she met Malcolm's eyes and commented, "You didn't for one moment think that I could ever write something like that, did you?"
Malcolm licked his lips, choosing to glide over the issue, for when he had read the sentence, he had been too distracted by the mental image the words conjured up to have given that a thought. "Am I right in thinking that you have received a similar message from me?" he enquired instead.
Realization slowly dawned on Hoshi's face. "Rats," she muttered, "we've been had."
Malcolm held his chin in thought. "He'll be waiting for us. But we can still have the last laugh, Ensign," he said in a smoky voice. He checked the time: those fifteen minutes were almost up. "We have to act quickly and according to script." His eyes tracked to Hoshi's appearance, and he lifted his eyebrows. "Before, however… you'd better…" And he made a round gesture pointing to her face.
Hoshi opened her mouth, shocked, and rushed to Malcolm's bathroom.
*The Observation Lounge*
Peeking from behind a couple of large armchairs he had conveniently arranged for cover, Trip saw Hoshi enter. It was twenty-three-hundred hours, and the place was deserted.
Or that's what you think, Hosh.
Hoshi entered the Observation Lounge. It was twenty-three-hundred hours, and the place was deserted. She immediately spotted a couple of armchairs bunched together.
Yeah, sure.
Trip saw Hoshi cast a surreptitious glance around, then go up to the large porthole, where she looked at the view, arms rigidly crossed over her chest.
Trip smiled to himself. He knew their fiery Communication Officer wasn't going to take Malcolm's message well. He watched in satisfaction as she began to pace up and down, glancing furiously at the doors.
Casting a surreptitious glance around, Hoshi went up to the large porthole, where she stopped and rigidly crossed her arms over her chest, to appear tense and angry. She began to pace.
Peachy, Trip mused, she looks real pissed-off. But where was Malcolm? It wasn't like the man to be late for anything. He wasn't going to chicken out of this, was he? Nah, Malcolm was a stickler for rules. Mr. No-fraternization would want to settle the issue right away.
Sure enough, the doors swished open, and the very man appeared. Trip nodded. Teach you right, you two.
Hoshi put on a pissed-off look. This was going to be fun. Malcolm was going to arrive any minute. Sure enough, the doors swished open, and the very man appeared. Hoshi bit the inside of her cheeks not to laugh. Teach you right, Commander.
Trip watched Malcolm take a couple of steps inside and stop. Hoshi had turned to him, and they studied each other for a long moment.
"Lieutenant…" Hoshi finally said, her voice laden with emotion.
Trip frowned. Not the emotion he thought she'd…
Malcolm took another step forward. "Hoshi… I thought you would never…"
He opened his arms to her, and in a flash Hoshi had run into his enveloping embrace. Malcolm tilted his head to her and…
Aw Gawd!
Malcolm took a couple of steps inside and stopped. Hoshi had turned to him, and they pretended to study each other for a long moment.
"Lieutenant…" Hoshi said in a voice laden with longing. She felt a bit like Scarlet O'Hara in Gone with the Wind.
Malcolm took another step forward. "Hoshi… I thought you would never…"
Malcolm opened his arms to her, and in a flash Hoshi had run into his enveloping embrace. Malcolm tilted his head to her. "Remember, this isn't for real," she warned him in a whisper. "Don't blow it now," Malcolm whispered back. He pressed his lips to hers and Hoshi found herself leaning into the kiss. That's when they heard a screeching sound.
In his effort to see better Trip had leaned too heavily on one of the armchairs, causing it to move with a screeching sound. Hoshi and Malcolm broke their embrace and turned to the noise. Trip's cover was blown.
Trip stood up. "And just what's going on here?" he asked sternly to cover the fact that he'd been spying on them. "Lieutenant? Ensign?"
"Commander!" Malcolm exclaimed, and for the first time since he knew the man Trip thought that he looked startled.
Hoshi quickly hid her face behind a hand and turned her back on Trip. Her shoulders began to quiver, and Trip winced. Was she crying?
"Sir…" Malcolm seemed speechless. "I can explain…"
Trip ordered the lights on. "That oughtta be interesting," he said glaring, hands on his hips. But he couldn't disregard Hoshi's jerking shoulders, and his practical joke was beginning to have a bitter taste. Sheesh, he'd never have guessed that these two would actually…
Trip heaved a sigh and rolled his eyes. "Alright, Hosh," he soothed, raking a hand through his hair. "It's nothin' important. Let's forget about it, okay?"
His eyes tracked to Malcolm. A naughty expression was dawning on the man's face, one that didn't seem appropriate to the circumstances.
"Ensign," Malcolm said breaking into a grin, "I believe we can put an end to our short but glorious acting career."
Hoshi cast a glance over her shoulder, then turned all the way, falling into laughter.
Trip was left with his mouth agape.
"Sorry, Commander," Hoshi eventually managed, "but when we realized what was going on..." She couldn't restrain another chortle. "Not that I didn't fume when I received the fake message you sent me, mind you."
"And not that I didn't cringe at the idea of Hoshi wanting to, er, break the rules," Malcolm added, with a self-conscious glance at his partner in crime.
Trip blinked. They'd outwitted him. But no one would ever say that Trip Tucker the Third couldn't take a practical joke. "How did ya figure it out?" he asked, head tilted to one side.
Hoshi bit her lip. "I stormed to Malcolm's quarters to set him straight. It didn't take us long to put two and two together – of if you prefer fifteen and fifteen…"
"Darn!" Trip winced. A moment later he was chuckling. "I wish I'd seen that," he said, shifting his gaze from one to the other. "You sure asked for it, though." He shook a finger at them. "Which of you sent me those scary love letters?"
"Guilty as charged, Commander," Malcolm admitted. "Hoshi was only recruited to make it seem like they came from the Denobulan ship."
Trip gave Malcolm a playful push. "To think that I went to Phlox, to beg him to keep his wife on a leash! That's when somethin' began to smell fishy: I thought it real strange that he didn't have a clue about his wife returnin' to Enterprise."
Malcolm lifted his eyebrows, smiling. "Happy April's fool, Commander."
"Yeah, and to you guys too," Trip said deadpan. "Come on," he added, heading for the door. "We've got a shift to work tomorrow."
Hoshi entered her quarters. She heard the door close and leaned back on it, a smile still tugging at her lips.
She had always known about Trip's naughty side, but Malcolm… Malcolm had been quite the pleasant surprise. April 1st ought to come more often, she decided.
Pushing off, Hoshi quickly put on her pyjamas. She climbed into bed and lay back, slowly deflating. Good grief, she was tired! But… pleasantly tired. She closed her eyes, and her mind went of its own accord to what had happened in the Observation Lounge.
What a scene! she mused. She wouldn't have put two cents on Malcolm's acting skills, before tonight.
Though if truth be told… that kiss… had felt… real?
Nah. Not Lieutenant No-fraternization Reed.
Shaking her head to dismiss the thought, Hoshi turned on her side and ordered the light off.
As he walked shoulder to shoulder with Malcolm to their quarters, Trip cast his friend a sidelong glance. "If I didn't know better, Loo-tenant, I'd say that kiss was no act," he suggested, adding with subtle irony, "wouldn't blame ya either if it wasn't…"
Malcolm cleared his throat. "I'll let you know, Commaander, that I treaded the boards, in my school days, and was quite good at it, if I say so myself," he replied smugly. "I'm glad to see I haven't lost the touch."
Trip chuckled. "Just how often were you called upon to kiss beautiful women in your school plays? 'Cause I must have been doing the wrong plays! That kiss you had with Hoshi was… yeah, really something," he added with amusement. "Nah, you certainly haven't lost the touch, especially the lip touch." Realising Malcolm had suddenly slowed down, he stopped and turned around, in time to see him jerk to attention.
"Captain," Malcolm said, an expression of alarm painted on his face.
Trip turned abruptly again. Archer had appeared from behind a bend in the corridor, Porthos at his heels.
"Trip, Malcolm," Archer greeted. He lifted his eyebrows. "Taking a late stroll around the ship?"
No impish smile was on his face, but his eyes conveyed unmistakable mirth. And a good dose of curiosity.
"Ah, no, Sir," Malcolm blurted out, over Trip's "Yeah, Capt'n."
There was a moment of awkward silence. "We, er, went for a midnight snack," Trip said with a tight smile. He cast Malcolm an eloquent glance and added, "Well, as it's already quite late... Night, Capt'n. See ya tomorrow." Malcolm immediately caught on, muttered a quick 'Night, Sir,' joined him, eyes on the deck plating, and they quickly resumed on their way.
Not quickly enough, however, not to hear a soft chuckle, followed by, "Come Porthos, I'm sure The Lip Touch is only… I don't know, Trip's next choice of film for Movie Night."
THE END
Happy April 1st to all. Hope you've enjoyed this.
