Travis was already in the Mess Hall when Malcolm entered, padd in hand. The young man rose respectfully, then offered Malcolm the seat opposite him. He had chosen the table nearest the windows, and he was watching the lieutenant curiously, clearly trying to gauge what they were about to discuss.

Malcolm sat down, and looked around the mostly deserted room. "Would you like something to drink, ensign?"

Travis shook his head. "I'm good, sir. Can I ask why you wanted to talk to me?"

Malcolm looked at his padd, then back at Travis. "Indeed. First, I must inform you that I expect full discretion from you."

The boy nodded. "Of course, sir."

"Second, the nature of this conversation is rather personal, so I suggest we drop ranks for the time being. Agreed?"

Travis nodded, curiosity lighting up his eyes. "I'm all ears. What's up?"

Malcolm was grateful that he had taken the time to note down some of the points he most wanted to address. "Okay, let's assume that you were involved with another member of the crew. How open would you be about it?"

He watched Travis' face for signs that he already knew, but found none. The young helmsman furrowed his brow slightly. "As in, would I tell the captain? Would I hold hands on movie night?"

Malcolm nodded.

"I suppose so. Captain Archer deserves to know about the social dynamics of his crew. And I don't think anyone would object to the odd kiss or hug, as long as it didn't happen on the bridge."

Malcolm listened intently. Travis had a point. "But say you were visiting your ... lover's work station and they kissed you there. Wouldn't that be against Starfleet regulations?"

Travis chuckled. "On any other ship, I'd say that was unacceptable, but Enterprise is no ordinary ship. We could be out here for years, and even the captain can't make us put our personal lives on hold for that long. I'd say you would be fine, as long as it didn't keep you from doing your job."

Nodding, Malcolm checked off that point on his list. "Fair enough. I've got another scenario. Say the captain has become aware of your involvement and invites the two of you to breakfast. What do you think he'd be likely to ask you about?"

Malcolm noticed a deepening of Travis' frown. "I'm not sure I follow ..."

Malcolm cleared his throat. "I thought you ... being American ... would have some insight into what Captain Archer might want to know about a relationship between two officers."

The way Travis' eyebrows shot up told him he'd been careless. But the boy just grinned. "Listen, I grew up on a cargo vessel. In a place like that, you couldn't hide anything from anyone. When I first kissed a girl, my captain knew about it in a matter of minutes. Plus, the captain was my dad, so he wanted to know everything. Maybe I'm not the best person to ask here ..." He trailed off. "Can I ask you something?"

Malcolm nodded, fearing the worst.

"Why did you come to me about this? I thought you'd rather discuss something like this with Commander Tucker ..."

Malcolm fought down a blush, but met the ensign's eyes squarely. "Thank you, ensign, you've been a great help. Don't let me keep you." With that, he rose from his chair. "I trust you'll remember that you promised to be discreet."

Visibly confused, Travis got up, too. "Of course, sir. I just hope I wasn't out of line."

Malcolm nodded curtly and all but fled the room, heading for the nearest turbolift.

That could hardly have gone any worse. What had driven him to involve anyone else in this?

When he finally reached his quarters, he flopped down on the bunk and covered his eyes with his hand. He dearly hoped his carelessness hadn't alerted the young man to what was going on. That would just open the door to rumour, and while he really wasn't ashamed of his and Trip's relationship, he still wasn't quite ready to go public.

Malcolm must have fallen asleep, for he was awakened by the chime of the door.

Jumping up, he ran his hand over his face and hair, then called for the visitor to enter.

Trip stepped inside, carrying a bottle of wine and two glasses. "Hey, bad time?"

The lieutenant shook his head. "No, I was just thinking about that breakfast."

"Well, then I guess I should take your mind off it," Trip smiled and poured the wine. "There really is nothing to worry about."

Malcolm accepted a glass and sat back down on his rumpled bed. "That's easy for you to say. You all but told me you'd tell the captain everything about us, but I'm just not comfortable with that. I couldn't stop thinking about what he will want to know."

Trip's soft laughter enveloped him like warm chocolate, and he felt the mattress give when the younger man sat down next to him. "Relax, Malcolm."

That ignited the Englishman's temper. "No, you know what? I'm not going to relax. I'm sick of being laughed at, just because I don't discuss my sex life with the captain."

Trip set down his glass. "So that's what's bothering you? You think I've been running around, telling the captain everything we've done together?"

Malcolm took a swig from his glass to forgo answering, but inclined his head in a way that made it clear that Trip had nailed it.

Malcolm was surprised when he felt Trip's hand on his thigh, grounding him. "Malcolm, I know I said that I tell John a lot, but there is still a line. I meant what I said about not wanting to make you uncomfortable. If you have a bad feeling about anything that the captain wants to know tomorrow, just let him know. Gosh, I hope you haven't been obsessing about this all day ..."

Malcolm's sheepish expression cracked them both up, and they moved on to happier topics.

It grew kind of late, and the bottle of wine led to another, and before they knew it, they were lying on the narrow bed, comfortably intertwined. Malcolm was just starting to drift off, when he felt Trip pull the Starfleet issue blankets over the two of them.

Malcolm couldn't recall having set the alarm, but sure enough, it started beeping at 0500, driving into his brain like a drill. He was just about to deactivate it, when he became aware of Trip's body still so close to his own. Malcolm allowed himself some moments to revel in that closeness, then hit the button.

Drunk on the warmth radiating from his lover, he ran his hand over the commander's bare chest, down his stomach, and into his briefs to be greeted there by Trip's already hard member. The touch was enough to wake the engineer. "Mmm, good morning," he mumbled, voice thick with sleep. He opened his eyes, then winced at the lights that had come on when Malcolm had disabled the alarm. "My head is killing me."

Malcolm chuckled. "So is mine." He leaned in to kiss the commander, his hand already busy. "But I bet I can make you feel better more quickly than Phlox's analgesic."

Trip gave a low moan. "You're on."