The BLTS Archive - Last Night I Vowed Anew
by Regina Bellatrix (reginabellatrix@creativemachinations.com)

---

N.B.: My answer to the EntSTSlash Secret Mother's Day Challenge as
proposed by Moppig, combined with a plot bunny that's been gnawing on
my leg since "Horizon," and MJ's dare to use her post-Cogenitor Reed's
pick-up lines from the DKEB message boards.

The challenge requirements:

- T/R preferred - humour - NC-17 or PWP - mothers.

Well, it's not totally humorous, but I think there's enough here to
qualify. ;)

The title is from a poem by Rumi : "Last night I vowed anew, I swore
an oath by your life,/ That I would never remove my eyes from your
face; if you smite with the sword, I will not turn from you. ..." ~RB

---

Jonathan Archer was terribly pleased with himself. It was a week until
his Armoury Officer's birthday, and he had just received confirmation
that the surprise he had been planning for the man was coming off
without a hitch. He couldn't wait to tell Trip about it now that it
was a sure thing.

---

"You did what?" Trip stared at his friend in disbelief.

"I've arranged for Malcolm's mother to stay on Enterprise for a week.
I invited both of his parents, but his dad had some Navy thing that he
couldn't miss. It seemed like too good of an opportunity to pass up;
who knows when we'll be this close to Earth again.

"Can you keep it a secret, Trip? I want it to be a birthday surprise
for him."

"Oh, it'll be a surprise alright." Trip scrubbed a hand across his
face. "I'm j'st not sure it'll be a pleasant one."

Archer gave him a sceptical look. "Come on, Trip. According to Travis,
Malcolm hasn't seen his parents in over a decade. Don't you think he'd
be at least a little happy to see his mother?"

"Cap'n, you know Malcolm's got issues with his folks. D'ya really
think this is gonna accomplish anythin' other than to make him a
nervous wreck? Some birthday present."

"You're exaggerating, Trip. Besides, you can keep him calm for a
week."

Trip speared his old friend with a serious look. "I'm his lover, not
his psychologist. I can't work miracles."

---

"Captain, the Shre'tak is requesting permission to shuttle over a
passenger." Hoshi did her best not to smile too broadly; it wouldn't
do to raise Reed's suspicions about the Vulcans' passenger. He already
looked irritated enough at having a guest, and possible security
breach, sprung on him, he didn't need to know that there was more to
it than that.

"Tell them to go right ahead, Hoshi." Archer beamed at her like a
little kid. "Mister Reed, join me in greeting our guest. Hoshi, comm.
Commander Tucker and tell him to meet us at the airlock. T'Pol, you
have the conn."

Reed fell in behind his captain at once, sparing barely a thought for
why he was being included in this greeting rather than the
sub-commander. He simply assumed that the captain was continuing with
his trend of taking his concerns about ship's security seriously.

He smiled slightly as they approached the airlock and found Trip
waiting for them. The two of them were irreproachably professional
while on-duty, but that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy the sight of his
beautiful blonde lover. Malcolm's smile turned into a frown when all
the greeting Trip seemed able to muster was a pale-faced stretching of
his lips into something that Malcolm supposed was to have been a
smile. He wondered if the Southerner was feeling ill.

Putting his concern to the side, Malcolm stopped just behind and to
the side of Archer, watching the airlock doors as Trip coded them
open. He almost stopped breathing when they parted to reveal their
passenger.

Only years of military training kept him from turning on his captain
and spluttering out his disapproval and horror. His mother! The
captain had arranged to have his mother come onboard his ship.

Malcolm turned to Trip and again almost lost his control. Tucker
looked guilty as sin. He'd known. Somehow, he'd known and hadn't
warned him. Teeth ground together. Trip would be sleeping alone for
however long this ... this visit went on, and another week besides.

Schooling his features, he turned back to his mother and captain, both
of whom were watching him expectantly.

"Mother," he said tightly, "this is quite a surprise. May I ask to
what I owe this honour?"

"Captain Archer contacted your father and I," Mary Reed glanced at
Archer, giving him a small smile, "asking us if we would like to come
visit you as a birthday surprise." She paused uncertainly and added,
"While you were in the area."

"And where is the," old bastard, "Admiral, then?"

"Oh. He couldn't make it, dear. There was a Naval conference you
see... Anyway, I thought this would be much nicer than socialising
with the other officers' spouses, so I accepted the captain's gracious
offer."

There was a note of reproach in his mother's voice that he knew all
too well, saying, Don't be ungrateful, Malcolm. He hated that tone of
voice. It was the one she'd always used on him when he was young and
his father would arrange an ‘opportunity' for him with some naval
somebody-or-other and he would try to refuse to go. It implied that
his wishes did not matter, only his acquiescence to the plans of
others on his behalf.

Well, Trip had been drilling into him the fact that his wishes did,
indeed, matter for over a year now, and he would be damned if he was
going to take this lying down.

"It seems you're a bit early. My birthday isn't for another four days.
Too bad you can't stay."

Archer glared at him, Trip winced, and his mother shifted
uncomfortably where she stood, a travel bag at her feet.

"Your mother is staying for a week, Malcolm," said Archer. "I thought
we'd put her up in your quarters. You can stay with Trip. Why don't
you take her luggage and go pack up what you'll need while Trip gives
her a tour of the ship?"

Malcolm opened his mouth to protest. The thinning of his captain's
lips stopped him, though. The man wasn't making a request, and was
obviously on the verge of making it a direct order. So much for
sticking up for what he wanted.

Next time, Malcolm, he thought as he hefted his mother's bag and
stalked off to his quarters, save your breath.

---

"This is a lovely ship you have here, Commander Tucker." Mary Reed
looked around Engineering appreciatively. "I'm grateful to have been
able to look at her. As I am grateful," she paused here, "to have been
able to meet the man my son loves so much."

Trip goggled at his lover's mother. "He told you about us?"

"Truthfully, no. He told my sister, Sheryl, and she told me. I've made
it a point to find out about Malcolm's life since he stopped sending
letters to his father and myself."

The censure in her voice riled Trip in defence of his man, and he
said, "Maybe if you'd written back, he'd've kept sendin' letters to
ya."

"I would have, but his father..."

"Who cares ‘bout his daddy?! You're your own woman. Ain't nothin'
stoppin' ya from writin' to your own son."

"I'm here, am I not, Commander?"

"Ever heard the phrase, ‘too little, too late?'" Trip had his hands on
his hips and was wearing a stubborn expression as he pitted himself
against his lover's mother.

"Your captain claimed that it was never too late to make amends," Mary
replied reasonably.

"Yeah, well, Jon's an optimist. Likes to think the best of everybody.
But I've seen the way you and your husband hurt my Mal. I'm the one
who's had t' work past the walls he built up around himself ‘cause of
it. You got any idea how hard I had to work at convincin' him that he
mattered as a person, as an individual? That he deserved to be loved?"


A silence fell between them, and Trip stared down at his boots,
ashamed by his outburst, but knowing everything he had said was true
and something Mary Reed needed to hear. He only regretted the manner
in which he'd said them. Of course, as Malcolm would no doubt have
pointed out, tact never was his strong suit.

"Look, Ma'am, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said what I did ... like I
did, but you gotta understand that Malcolm's got some real issues with
you and his daddy. It ain't gonna get fixed overnight, either."

"I know, Commander. I know." Mary squared her shoulders and looked up
at Trip resolutely. "But I have to try."

---

"Oh, c'mon, Mal!"

"No."

"Please."

"No."

"You can't sleep on the floor for a week."

"I can and I will."

Trip looked down at where his lover was arranging blankets for himself
on the floor and sighed in exasperation. "I swear to you: I had
nothin' to do with your mama comin' here."

"You knew about it. You knew about it and didn't warn me."

Malcolm was refusing to look at him, and Trip wanted to scream with
frustration. Lord! but could that man be stubborn. "I didn't find out
about it until it was a done deal, Mal. I tried talkin' the cap'n
outta it. He wouldn't listen to me, and then he swore me to secrecy. I
couldn't disobey an order, could I? I know it's important to you that
we both do our duty."

"In this case," said Malcolm, finally looking at Trip, "I would have
made an exception."

Trip scrubbed a hand across his face. "Mal honey, I just had an
argument with your mama this afternoon; I don't wanna fight with you,
too. Could you just please come to bed?" He motioned at the piece of
furniture in question.

"You had an argument with my mother?" Malcolm looked astonished, blue
eyes widening as he digested this bit of information.

"Yeah. I kinda lost it a bit with her in Engineering."

"Over what?"

"You. She was makin' noises about you not writin' to her an' all, and
I snapped at her." Trip shrugged. "I think we've got an understandin'
now. Course she probably thinks I'm an over-protective nut-case
anyway."

Malcolm chuckled quietly at this. "You are an over-protective
nut-case," he stood and placed a hand on either side of Trip's face,
"but that's why I love you."

Trip closed his eyes, savouring the kiss Malcolm placed on his lips,
and then murmured, "Pot callin' the kettle black, don't you think?"

"You said it first," Malcolm defended himself between kisses.

"Guess I did. Oh..." Trip gasped as Malcolm began suckling at his
neck. He slid his arms around the lithe form pressed against him,
convulsively clutching at the man's firm ass. "How about bed now,
darlin'?"

"What," kiss, "makes you think," kiss, "that I would want to," nip,
"sleep with such an," kiss, "admittedly loud-mouthed fellow," Malcolm
slid a hand between them and stroked Trip's erection while nipping the
underside of his jaw, "as yourself?"

"Oh Jesus Christ, Malcolm!" Trip dug his fingers into Malcolm's
buttocks, rubbing himself insistently against the other man, and
placed a bruising kiss on his lips. "J'st fuck me already, will you?"

"Language, Mister Tucker. There you go again. Why I should put up
with..."

"Oh, you know you enjoy makin' me howl, you tease."

"Well," Malcolm's mouth quirked in a crooked grin, "I suppose there is
that." He pushed Trip away and pulled off his pyjama shirt, tossing it
aside. "Strip, Mister Tucker, and I'll see if I can't make you howl."

Trip did as he was told, shucking off his tank top and slowly
loosening the tie on his sleep pants. The fabric fell to the floor to
reveal his proud organ, and Trip blushed slightly when Malcolm made an
appreciative noise, licking his lips. He forgot his embarrassment
quickly enough when Malcolm pushed his own pants past slender hips.

The man was beautiful, no doubt about it. Trip took a moment just to
admire the powerful legs, sculpted forearms, and rigid cock of his
lover. With an appreciative sigh, he sank to his knees where he stood,
spreading his arms wide.

"I'm all yours, lover."

Malcolm's smile widened and he walked up to the Southerner, stopping
the man when he would have begun caressing Malcolm's dick with his
tongue. Kneeling in front of Trip, Malcolm leaned forward, capturing
his partner's lips with his own. Mouths opened and tongues slid
against one another as the pair pressed themselves together, the day's
stresses washing away in the building flood of desire.

Pushing Trip down onto the bedding he'd laid out on the floor, Malcolm
stretched out on top of the taller man. He reached blindly for his
knapsack, searching out the tube of lubricant stowed in it, while
continuing to kiss Trip within an inch of his life. Once he had the
tube in his hand, he sat back on his haunches and began stretching his
lover out.

Trip was impatient, pushing back against Malcolm's probing fingers. He
moaned and sighed in between muttered words of encouragement,
spreading his legs further and further apart. Malcolm's throaty laugh
sent shivers racing across his over-heated skin, and he moaned again,
louder.

"My, my, Trip, you look so delectably wanton like this. I've never
seen anything quite so beautiful." He leaned down, placing a kiss on
Trip's shaft, at the same time, rubbing a finger across the nub of the
blonde's prostate.

"Oh Mal!" Trip arched upwards, penis pressing against Malcolm's mouth.
"Shit! J'st do it, will ya!"

"Ah, ah, ah... What do you say, Mister Tucker?"

"Please, oh God, please."

Malcolm removed his fingers from his lover and squeezed a generous
amount of lube onto his own erect phallus. Sheathing himself in Trip's
yielding body, he let out a moan of his own. All capacity for coherent
speech was lost on both their parts as Malcolm initiated his gentle
thrusts. Every movement he made was slow and careful, designed to
drive Trip mad and keep him that way.

As careful and precise as Malcolm was being, neither he nor Trip could
last forever. Trip came first, after Malcolm grasped his
long-neglected dick and began pumping it in time with his thrusting.
The smaller man followed him with a deep throated yell moments later.

Relieving his shaking limbs of his weight, Malcolm stretched out on
the floor next to the Southerner. He snuggled close and rested his
head on Trip's broad chest, sighing contentedly when the man curled an
arm around him.

"I know I don't say it nearly enough, but I do love you, Trip."

"Love you, too, Mal." Trip placed a kiss in the brunette hair.


"Does that mean we c'n go to bed now?"

---

"Travis, Hoshi, I've got a huge favour to ask y'all."

Hoshi gave Trip a suspicious look. "If it has anything to do with
practical jokes for Malcolm's birthday, forget it. I learned my lesson
last year."

"Do I look suicidal to you, Hosh?"

"You look desperate," observed Travis. "What's up?"

"You both know Mal's mama is on the ship, right?" The ensigns nodded,
and Trip continued with his request. "Well, I was kinda hopin' y'all
could keep her entertained. Take her to meals with ya. Invite her to
the movie tonight. You know, make her feel welcome."

"No offence, Commander," said Hoshi, "but shouldn't Malcolm be doing
that?"

"Yeah, ‘cept that Mal's not at all happy that she's here. I barely
escaped havin' him refuse to sleep with me for two weeks j'st ‘cause I
knew about this and didn't tell him. I'm not risking his wrath again
by tellin' him he's gotta spend his free time with her. So, please,
guys? I'll owe you one, big time."

"I don't know, Hoshi, having one of our commanding officers in our
debt could come in handy." Travis nudged Hoshi playfully, smiling
enthusiastically.

"Oh, alright," she conceded. "But remember: you owe us. Big time."

---

"So, what did you do with her?"

"Huh?" Trip looked up from his computer screen and turned to face his
lover, a confused look gracing his features.

"My mother. I haven't seen her in two days. I'm assuming you've locked
her up somewhere or maybe threw her out an airlock."

"Got Hoshi and Travis to play host to her, actually."

Malcolm's eyebrows went up. "Really? What did they demand for that
service?"

"A favour, a big favour, to be claimed sometime in the future."

"Ah, well ... a worthy sacrifice, my love."

"Don't thank me yet."

"Why not?"

"Cap'n's caught on. We've been invited to dine with him tonight. Us
and your mama."

"I take it that by ‘invited' you mean ‘ordered?'"

"Pretty much, yeah."

"Oh well, I should have realised that it was too good to last."
Malcolm checked the time. "It's nineteen-hundred; should we be there
yet?"

"Shit! Yeah. J'st let me save this..." Trip hastily saved the duty
roster he was working on and shut down his console. "Okay, I'm ready.
Let's git this over with."

"No need to rush on my account."

"Hey, sooner we go, sooner we can leave. Sooner we leave, sooner we
can work on relievin' our tensions. I'm sure we'll be real tense by
dessert."

"Mind out of the gutter, Trip. I won't be able to eat dinner at the
same table as my mother if you put those sorts of images in my head."

Trip gave his lover a look of mock indignation as he palmed the door
open and stepped out into the corridor. "I didn't say nothin' dirty."

"Ah ha! Your bad grammar betrays you. You used a double negative – an
admittance of guilt!"

Malcolm was smiling broadly, obviously pleased with himself, and Trip
couldn't find it in himself to be offended at the slur. Instead of
responding, he slid an arm around Malcolm's waist, pulling him close
as they made their way to the captain's mess. The lieutenant had come
a long way since the beginning of his relationship with his commander
and instead of pulling away, as he might once have done, he slipped
his arm around Trip's shoulders, letting his fingers play in the hair
at the base of the other man's neck.

Arriving at the door to the captain's mess, the pair separated.
Malcolm reached out to straighten out Trip's uniform, zipping up his
collar so that he looked neater, then doing the same for himself. Trip
allowed his partner to fuss and then leaned over to plant a reassuring
kiss on his cheek before they went in.

---

While not a total disaster, dinner was not the success Archer had
hoped it would be. He was carrying the bulk of the dinner
conversation. Mary Reed coming in a close second as she answered his
queries, and Trip occasionally adding a comment. Malcolm said as
little as possible, speaking only when Archer asked him a direct
question.

They were currently eating a dessert of key lime pie, and Archer was
growing desperate to find a way to get mother and son to actually
speak to one another before the meal was through. It was then that the
pie and Trip Tucker conspired to answer his prayers.

A morsel of the pie's crumb crust stuck itself to Malcolm's lower lip,
and in a habitual gesture, Trip reached out a hand to wipe it away,
thumb lingering on his lover's lips longer than was strictly
necessary. Mary Reed watched this in fascination, her features
settling into an odd expression.

"When are the two of you going to get married?"

Malcolm's head snapped up and he stared at his mother in shock. Trip's
response was slightly more eloquent. "Say what?"

"When are you getting married?" Mary's face took on an expression
which Archer had seen many times on Rebecca Tucker's face as she
interrogated Trip about something. The look said, I'm your mother. I
know what I'm talking about, and you will listen to me. "Sheryl tells
me you've been together for nearly two years. You must have thought
about marriage, dears. I, for one, should very much like to see my son
married before I die. And grandchildren. I should like grandchildren."

Malcolm dropped his fork as the word ‘grandchildren' passed his
mother's lips. Trip just stared at the woman, slack-jawed, as if
unable to comprehend her words. Malcolm was the first to recover use
of his vocal chords.

"Mother!"

"Yes, dear?"

Malcolm's mouth worked silently for a few moments before he managed to
splutter, "What... I mean... marriage... children??"

"Yes, Malcolm, marriage and children. I am given to understand that
people do still get married and have children. It would make your
father and I so happy."

That was the wrong thing to say.

"My father would have a bloody heart-attack if I married Trip!"
Malcolm stood up, leaning his fists on the table as he lost years
worth of control and shouted at his mother. "He'd see so many things
wrong with such a match, I don't even know where to begin."

After forty years of marriage to one, Mary was more than capable of
dealing with the Reed male temper. She carefully set her fork down and
leaned back in her chair, looking up into the glittering blue eyes of
her son.

"First of all, Malcolm, I think you do your father an injustice.
However, even if you are correct about his feelings on the matter, why
don't you do it anyway? The old goat could use to have his world
shaken up a bit."

Malcolm blinked in surprise and sat back down in his chair. "I do
believe that is the first time I've ever heard that particular epithet
come out of your mouth."

"Perhaps so, but it's not the first time I've uttered it, nor is it
likely to be the last." She shifted in her seat leaning forward toward
her son. "Malcolm, I know you and your father haven't exactly been on
speaking terms these last few years, but one of you really ought to
call a truce."

"I'm not the one who started the war."

"That, Malcolm, is debatable. The way I see it, you are both equally
responsible. You've both said and done hurtful things to one another
and you are both too stubborn to apologise.

"I will promise you that should you and Commander Tucker choose to
formalise your relationship, your father will not get by with making
... inappropriate comments."

"You'd stand up to him for me?" Malcolm sounded utterly astonished.

"Of course I would, Malcolm."

"You never have before."

Mary looked down and away. "It's about time I did."

Silence descended on the four people around the table. Trip and Archer
were both uncomfortable, feeling like intruders in the Reeds' private
conversation. Neither wished to be the first to speak and draw
attention to themselves.

Eventually, Mary turned to the captain and spoke softly to him. "Would
you be so kind, Captain, as to escort me back to my quarters?"

"Of course." Archer stood with Mary, offering her his arm as they
moved toward the exit. He snuck a look back over his shoulder,
catching a glimpse of Trip moving to comfort Malcolm before the doors
shut, cutting off the view.

---

"Mal?" Trip rested his head on his lover's shoulder and ran a gentle
hand down the naked frame.

"Yes, love?" Malcolm responded into the darkness.

"What your mama said this evenin' ... you ever think about it?"

"About what?"

"Marriage. Children."

"Mostly to come up with reasons why they're bad ideas."

"Oh." Trip's voice was quiet, plaintive.

"It sounds like you have."

"Yeah."

"Knowing you, you want both. Am I right?"

"Yeah."

"Oh Trip. I'm sorry."

Trip felt Malcolm try to shift away from him in their small bed and
wrapped his arms around the other man, holding him close. "Don't be
sorry, Mal. You ain't got nothin' to be sorry for. I love you. You're
all I need."

"But you deserve so much more."

"I don't want more, Mal, I want you. Marriage or not. Children or
not."

Silence.

"I think I approached this conversation the wrong way. I didn't mean
to imply that I don't want to marry you, Trip. I do. Very much so. I'm
just..."

"J'st?"

"Afraid."

"Of what?" Trip sounded confused.

"Of you discovering that all of the things I'm not, that I can't give
you, are important to you after all. Too important for you to waste
time with me."

"Oh Mal." Trip tightened his grip on the smaller man. "My time with
you is never wasted. Never. And I'd be more'n happy to thumb my nose
at your daddy and his notions with you. If you'll have me."

"Is ... is that a proposal of marriage?"

"Yeah, it is."

Malcolm turned back toward Trip, squirming down in the man's embrace
until they were nose to nose. "Then I guess I'll just have to say:
yes, I'll have you." He pressed his lips to his partner's, languidly
caressing the Southerner's tongue with his own when the man's mouth
opened to him. Rolling onto his back, Malcolm pulled Trip on top of
himself and growled, "Make love to me, Trip."

"Again?"

Hearing his lover's quiet chuckle and feeling it shake his body,
Malcolm could easily imagine the amused expression gracing the
blonde's face. "Yes, Trip. Again."

---

Malcolm was drunk, absolutely soaked to the gills, and he didn't care.
He was currently attending the nicest birthday party that had ever
been thrown for him, his mother's presence not withstanding, and he
would be damned if he didn't enjoy it to the hilt.

"And then," he slurred, "I sat down in his lap, like this," Malcolm
demonstrated by straddling Trip in his chair, "and said, ‘Commander,
I'd love to show you my phase cannon, if you show me yours.'"

Jon, Hoshi, and Travis all roared with laughter, while Phlox and Mary
Reed chuckled indulgently. T'Pol simply raised one sculpted eyebrow.

"You didn't!" squealed Hoshi.

"He sure did," replied Trip. "It gits worse, though. Tell ‘em what ya
said next, darlin'." Trip patted Malcolm's ass in encouragement.

"Well, I said, ‘You know, there are two things I haven't eaten in
years. One of them is Stilton. I don't suppose you'd help me cross the
other one off my list?'"

"What did you say to that, Commander?" asked Travis, tears streaming
down his face as he fought to control his laughter.

"I j'st looked at ‘im wi' a silly expression and said, ‘Sure.' Best
choice I ever made."

Hoshi sighed. "I'm so glad you two are getting married! Oh, oh! I get
to be Maid of Honour!"

"Does that mean I can be Best Man?" asked Travis hopefully.

"Sure, Trav." Trip smiled benevolently at his young friend.

"Hey, what about me?"

"You can't be Best Man, Jon. You're the cap'n; you gotta officiate."

"Oh." Jon looked downcast for a moment, then brightened. "I get to
marry you... Let's do it now!"

"What about the paperwork? And the rings?? We haven't had time to get
rings!"

"Never mind that! We can deal with the forms in the morning, and you
don't need rings. You can't wear them on duty anyway."

"Jon, we gotta have rings."

Trip and Jon scowled at each other until Mary Reed interrupted.

"Here, use these." She held out her wedding set, and her son and his
fiancé gaped at her as she placed a ring in each of their hands.

"Mother! We can't take these. Father would..."

"Your father will deal with it. Our anniversary is coming up; he can
buy me a new ring."

"Oh Mother..." Malcolm extricated himself from Trip and did something
he would never have done sober: he hugged his mother. "Thank you."

The table was quickly pushed to the side of the captain's mess, the
chairs set out in neat rows behind the bar-come-altar. Phlox was sent
to fetch Trip's camera and then put in charge of the photography.
Travis and Hoshi each took charge of a ring, Travis dragging Trip up
to the ‘altar,' Hoshi shooing Malcolm to the end of the ‘aisle.' T'Pol
regally took a seat in the front row, watching as Jon fussed with his
shirt collar. Mary prepared herself to give away her baby boy.

Jon signaled that he was ready, and Hoshi began leading the way up the
aisle. Mary deposited Malcolm next to Trip in front of his captain,
and stepped aside.

"Ummm... Errr... Marriage," Jon finally began. "Marriage is what
brings us together today. That blesséd arrangement, that dream within
a dream..."

"Uh, Jon?"

"What is it, Trip? You're interrupting my speech."

"Yeah, well... If you don't quit quoting The Princess Bride, I'm gonna
hafta hurt you."

"Oh. Sorry. Umm... Do you Tr..er, Charles Tucker the Third, take
Malcolm Reed to be your lawfully wedded husband through richer or
poorer, through um, injury and health, so long as you both shall
live?"

"I do."

"And do you, Malcolm Reed, take Charles Tucker the Third to be your
lawfully wedded husband through advances of alien bimbos and ah...
otherwise, through sickness and health, so long as you both shall
live?"

"I do."

"Then, by the power invested in me by Starfleet and the United Earth
government, I now pronounce you man and er, um... husband. Have you
the wing?"

"Jon."

"Sorry."

Trip took the ring Travis held out to him and slid it on Malcolm's
ring-hand pinky finger, allowing his husband to do the same with the
one Hoshi held.

"You may kiss your spouse."

Malcolm did as he was told, pulling Trip's head down toward his for a
tender kiss. When they pulled apart, he noticed his mother wiping
tears from her eyes.

It was the first time he had ever been glad to make her cry.

---

The End