Sato

The warning lights have hardly switched off before I'm out of my seat on the plane.

I can't wait to see the boys again – my boys, my Yin and Yang. I know it's not going to be easy keeping up the pretense that one of them means more to me than the other, when in all honesty I can't separate them in my thoughts, but that's the way it has to be. And I tell myself it's only for a week; after all; then we'll be back on Enterprise, and I'm sure Trip and I can find ways to make up to Malcolm for what he's been missing.

They're in the reception hall (and on time to meet the plane, so I know which of them organized the schedule!) and Malcolm hangs back politely as I rush up to Trip and hug him. Only after that's been completed to our mutual satisfaction do I get a quick and dutiful peck on the cheek, and a civil enquiry after my grandfather's health.

My news on that score isn't particularly good, but then jiichan's health problems are mostly those caused by all the years he's seen, and the best the doctors can do is make them bearable. Still, he was glad to see me, and we sat and talked for an age about my life in space and all the things I've seen and done since I joined Enterprise, and my little brother arrived with his wife from Hanjin (we hadn't met before) and we all ordered a carryout of kamameshi and umeboshi onigiri which I hadn't tasted for years. Chatting about all this takes up the time it takes us to get to the flitter park, and provides me cover in which I can study Trip's face and Malcolm's to find out the current state of play.

I can discount the 'Fine' for a start. Trip is chirpy enough, and proud to show off the place he grew up in (or what's left of it), but Malcolm is just a little too quiet and watches him too intensely when he thinks he's unobserved. When we get to Trip's parents' place I can almost feel Malcolm's tension intensify. He should be relaxed (insofar as he ever does relax), but instead I see him unobtrusively checking the place out, as though he's expecting an ambush.

They escort me to the room that's been set aside for me, and just for a few seconds we're assured of privacy. In that half-moment we can be natural, we're kissing and hugging each other, but even sooner than I'd expected Malcolm breaks away, glancing uneasily towards the window. The room's on the second story so no-one can look in (surely he knows that?), but even so there's something in his face that tells me he's half expecting to see a face there.

My first instinct is to call him on it, but I think better of it. As much as it hurts to keep even this niggle of worry from Trip, I know that Malcolm will find it tough to admit to whatever's bothering him, and it may be easier for him just to talk it over with one of us instead of both. That there is something bothering him, I'm already sure. It only remains for me to winkle it out of him.

"Look, if you two lovebirds want time away by yourselves, I'll be fine hanging around here by myself for a few hours. I've got plenty of stuff to read."

"Sorry, I'm goin' to make you jealous for a few days, Mal." With a naughty grin Trip cuddles me close. There's a note of seriousness under the teasing, though; we both wish things could be different, and I put my hand out and touch Malcolm's shoulder. I try to pull him in again for a lingering kiss, but he's not having any of it.

"We've got to be careful," he says a little shortly. "You two are obviously going to want some time on your own, it'll look really strange if I tag along everywhere like a bloody lost poodle. Go for a picnic or something. Go down to the beach. Do the reunited lovers thing. We knew this was the way we'd have to play it."

"I'm sorry." Trip's genuinely contrite. "This is going to be a tough week for you."

An odd, wry little smile flickers around the Brit's mouth. A full smile from him is a rarity (though I'm happy to say that Trip and I see it oftener than most), but this hardly qualifies as even a quarter of one, and it's as bitter as lemons. "I expect to survive it somehow."

"We'll drive out together for some of the days. I'm sure we can find somewhere really quiet where we can relax. Maybe there's an island somewhere. We could hire a boat." I peek at both of them under my lashes, knowing full well they'll know what I mean.

"Tease." Just for a moment Malcolm's grin peeps through, but he shakes his head. "Too risky. Got to stay completely above board. Nothing to hide. Nothing."

"Aw, we get the picture." Trip reaches out and ruffles his hair, which produces the predictable reaction; even when he's on holiday, the standards befitting an officer must be preserved.

"You and my bloody hair!" Crossly he moves to the vanity unit and restores order as best he can with his fingers. "Well, I'm going downstairs. I'm sure the two of you can unpack without my help."

His footsteps clatter down the wooden stairs and then there's the sound of the outside door opening and closing. Through the window we watch him cross the garden towards the house, the Tuckers' three Labradors frisking around him. Even now he walks almost like he's on parade, shoulders braced and head up. He hardly seems to notice the dogs, though I know he likes dogs a lot; more evidence, if I needed any, that something's worrying him. Maybe it's because they're too undisciplined, too friendly. I bet any dog Malcolm owned would be trained to obedience right from the start.

"Doberman," Trip whispers in my ear.

"What?" For a second it's freaky how closely his thoughts have mirrored mine.

"If Mal was a dog that's what he'd be. A Doberman. Well groomed, intelligent, good-lookin' and bites."

He has a point. Though personally I'd liken Malcolm more to an Akita, a breed bred for spirit, obedience, loyalty and bravery.

"So what dog do you think you'd be?" I turn around and slip my fingers up under his T-shirt to find that lovely fuzz of hair on his chest.

He pulls me away from the window so that he can unfasten my blouse. We can't linger together because that would be embarrassingly obvious, but I'm certainly not going to resist getting a little taster here and now, even if I am feeling a bit travel-crumpled and could handle a shower.

"Retriever. I'm real good at findin' things when I want to." A claim that he goes on to prove, even as I giggle at the aptness of it. Retrievers are friendly and bright and playful, and that description fits him to the ground. He's also exceptionally good at the retrieving end of things, and we're both breathing a bit heavily by the time we reluctantly separate. I really do have to shower and change. I couldn't think of turning up at the family table for a meal in the clothes I wore traveling from Japan.

"We'll hold dinner for you," he says blithely (though I'd feel more confident about believing him if he was the one doing the cooking). "Take your time."

I can't resist running my hand along his jaw just one more time. There's just a hint of stubble there, which feels weird and kind of sexy, and makes me think of how it'll feel against all the sensitive parts of my body. He really is amazingly good-looking. His blue eyes are smoldering with promises, and I can only hope he'll find some way to dispose of what's pushing very visibly at the front of his pants before his mother sees it. I'd offer to help him out with that, but I really don't want to start off my visit with the entire family thinking we're on honeymoon, so he'll have to sort the problem out for himself. Luckily his t-shirt's long and a bit baggy, so I pull it out of his waistband and stand back to check. Well, it probably wouldn't stand a really close look, but then I don't suppose his family are in the habit of staring at his groin to see if he's got a boner from kissing his girlfriend.

I already know that Malcolm has the loan of Trip's room in the main house, while Trip himself has the bedroom next to mine. I don't suppose anyone actually supposes he'll sleep in it, but it's kind of cute that they like to keep up the fiction. They're a really old-fashioned family in a lot of ways and I already think they're wonderful. They welcomed me like I was some relative they hadn't seen for years; as much as I regret the fact that we can't be honest about our unusual relationship, I know that it would be really difficult for the Tuckers to handle. So maybe it's for the best that we do keep it under wraps.

Trip leaves the room – not without an appreciative backward look as I slip out of my skirt and waggle my rear end provocatively in his direction – and I head for the ensuite. I don't know what the timetable is for dinner so I'll shower and dress as quickly as I can.

An Akita and a Golden Retriever. That makes me a dog handler I guess, and the aptness of that makes me giggle even more. I can definitely handle those particular dogs.

Except that I'm getting the feeling that one of them has a flea. My reflection in the mirror crosses its arms and scowls back at me. We don't like our boys bothered by pests. I'm the only one we want feasting on their delicious hides. But I'm sure – well, it's hard to be absolutely sure with Malcolm, but I'm pretty sure – that my dark Akita has a problem.

And I'm going to find out what it is. The first minute I get the chance.

And then I'll squash it.

There Will Be No Mercy.

If you've enjoyed this, please leave a review!