Chapter 8: Perfect Miscommunication
Afterwards they lay together, bodies slick with sweat, legs entangled, each lost, for a moment, in their own thoughts. Trip lay on his back, with T'Pol pressed against his side, head against his chest listening to his decelerating heart rate. His left arm curled loosely around her back, the tips of his fingers tracing random patterns along her spine. Her arm lay across his chest her fingers combing through the hair on his chest.
T'Pol was surprised by the all encompassing sense of calm she was experiencing. It was as if the rogue emotions she had been unable to suppress for so long, many of which had centred around this fascinating, perplexing, frustrating, human male, had been released. She felt a return to equilibrium and realised this was what she had been trying to achieve from her foolish experiment with the trellium. It was as if a pressure valve of emotion had been building in her for months, perhaps even years and it had finally been released by him, in one impeccable, blinding moment of pure feeling.
She realised, with perfect indifference, that her people would not understand. They would see her actions as emotional and illogical. But when it came to him an emotional decision was logical. They had given themselves to each other and she had no intention of ever giving him back.
For his part, Trip was trying to make sense of a new reality. The early period of their relationship had been characterised by a strange kind of hostile attraction. If they had sought each other out, it was only to test the other's patience. The crew had been endlessly entertained by the 'no retreat, no surrender' nature of their arguments. He had been amused by her perplexity at humans and their customs and taken every opportunity to confound her with his colourful use of idiom. She had been astonished by the rampant emotionality he took to every task, despite the evidence of a fine, logical mind.
They had slowly come to appreciate their differences. He had found he relied on her ability to reduce a problem to its basic components, her calm in the face of any storm. She had learned to trust his instincts, to accept that his emotions were a part of his intelligence, which allowed him to find solutions where logic alone would have faltered. They had moved from being adversaries, to colleagues, to friends and now to this.
He was uncertain what it would mean to her, how she would react. It was, by its nature, an emotional act and she was a creature who denied feeling. He did not know how to navigate the new parameters of their relationship. Their's was a friendship that, up to now, had evolved organically, logically, she would say. This felt like they had jumped too many steps ahead, crossed a bridge and burned it behind them. It was not a situation that could be left to lie, to fester in different expectations and understandings. About this, they needed to talk, frankly, openly, honestly. Someone needed to start the conversation, he took a breath and stepped into the breach.
"So, does this mean we're married on Vulcan?" He quipped. Dammit, he was an idiot. He shut his eyes and gave himself a mental facepalm. It was too flippant, she was a literal creature that did not respond well to humour.
T'Pol lifted herself on his chest and looked at him "Vulcans do not engage in casual sexual relationships." She responded evenly.
Shit, thought Trip, did that mean they were married. "So... we are married?"
"No, marriage on Vulcan, as on Earth, requires a formal, legal ceremony. I simply did not want you to think that sexual intercourse is something I would engage in heedlessly."
Right, they weren't married but it wasn't casual so what did that mean.
"Okay, so we're in a relationship then?" He could feel his heart pounding. Was it nervousness he wondered? No, anticipation. He got the feeling she was about to hand him everything he wanted. God, he hoped he didn't fuck it up. Perfect miscommunication was a hallmark of their relationship.
She narrowed her eyebrows in confusion. "We already had a relationship, we were, and still are, colleagues and, I believe, friends."
"Yes, of course we were... I mean are. By that definition you could say you have a relationship with everyone on this ship. But, when people say they are in a relationship, it generally means an exclusive, sexual relationship."
She pondered his statement briefly. Humans were so imprecise in their use of language "Obviously our relationship is sexual, we just had intercourse. I have already stated that I would not engage in casual sexual relationships, which implies exclusivity on my part."
For crying down the sink, how did she manage to turn a simple conversation into a verbal minefield. It was like they needed a lawyer to to draft up a 100 page contract defining the exact parameters of their relationship. He picked apart what she had just said. It looked good so far, from his perspective. If he was reading her right, she was basically saying she was his girlfriend. "Okay, So we're dating then."
She tipped her head to one side. "Dating implies going on social or romantic appointments or engagements. We live on a starship in deep space. There is nowhere for us to engage in such activities. Except movie night, which generally I attend with you anyway, if I elect to go, or dinner and we already eat many of our meals together."
Trip was banging his head against the imaginary walls of his mental room. Was she being deliberately obtuse. "Look, I'm just trying to determine the exact nature of our relationship, in light of... um... recent activities. Like it or not, sex changes things. I don't want to head out there thinking our relationship is one thing and you thinking it's something else and then have everything blow apart because of our different expectations." Trip was on a roll. "I mean, if this doesn't work out between us we'd still have to see each other, and work together everyday and it would feel awkward."
A hint of puzzlement crossed T'Pol's features. "I would not feel awkward, I do not experience feelings of awkwardness. It would be illogical to allow our personal relationship to affect the performance of our duties."
Wouldn't it just. Trip punched a hypothetical pillow in his mental room. He couldn't shake the feeling she was doing this just to frustrate him. "Well I probably would feel awkward, because I'm human and, I have to say, I'm experiencing feelings of awkwardness right now!"
T'Pol put on her 'thoughtful' expression again "Why would you feel awkward about this conversation? You are right that we should openly discuss our expectations given the changed parameters of our relationship and the cultural differences that inform our expectations. It is a logical undertaking in the circumstances."
Wait a minute, did she just say he was behaving logically? Before Trip could process that tidbit. T'Pol latched onto something he had said earlier. "What do mean by the statement 'if this doesn't work out'. Do you envision that our relationship could be temporary?"
Boom! Trip got the distinct impression he'd just hit a Vulcan mine. "No, of course not! Nobody goes into a relationship expecting it to fail. But we're two different people, hell we're two different species. There are just no guarantees, once we get to know each other, that things will work out long term."
"I believe we already know each other. We have spent the past two years, eight months and eleven days 'getting to know each other'."
"Wow, you counted the days?"
"Indeed, Commander, I believe sometimes it was the only thing getting me through them." T'Pol responded dryly.
Trip gave a guffaw of laughter. Was that a joke, did she just make a joke? She was full of surprises tonight.
"Trip, I am aware that our cultural differences will complicate our relationship, but I would not have engaged in sexual relations with you if I did not believe we could sustain an intimate connection for the rest of our lives."
'An intimate connection for the rest of our lives' he turned the statement over in his head. He pondered her earlier statement, she was right they did know each other. In fact, he felt like she knew him better than anyone. Oddly, it was as though the first things they had identified about each other were the things that annoyed them the most and they had managed to work past them to find what valued in each other. His relationships had never run this course before. Usually sex and infatuation came early in the process. Then as things progressed he would learn more about his partner, find all the little things that he liked about her and, more significantly, that annoyed him. But it was never sex that ended a relationship, usually it was indifference. Once the infatuation faded all those 'little things' just never seemed to be enough.
He thought about Natalie, his last girlfriend. He'd liked her, the sex had been good, but he'd known, even before that Dear John letter, that it wasn't forever, that he wasn't willing to alter the trajectory of his life for her. With T'Pol it was the opposite, infatuation and sex had come last. He realised with with a strange blinding certainty, that even if they could never have sex again, he wouldn't want to give her up, that he could never be indifferent to her. Whatever happened he wanted to be wherever she was and he he would sacrifice anything to bring that about.
He looked at her shyly. "Yeah," he said "I feel the same way about you."
She looked at him intently "As a Vulcan, expressions of affection are not part of my culture. I am not sure I will ever be able to verbalise fully the depth of my regard for you." She placed her hand over the side of his face. "But I do believe you are K'hat'n'dlawa, half of my heart and half of my soul."
He was no linguist but he was pretty certain that was Vulcan for 'I love you'. He smiled at her and put his hand behind her head. "I love you too, darlin." he confessed as he pulled into into a kiss.
Naturally, from that point, things progressed to their logical conclusion. Ever the scientist, T'Pol mentally examined the data she had previously collected from her comprehensive, theoretical research into human sexuality. In light of recent experience in the field, she was able to use her excellent analytical skills and near perfect memory to extrapolate the data into some practical applications; of which Trip was the willing, grateful, and somewhat astounded recipient. In return he was able to demonstrate that a good engineer does not need a manual to operate a finely tuned instrument as he made her engines sing.