The BLTS Archive- Number Fourteen Across
by pretzelduck (pretzelduck@yahoo.com)

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Feedback: Yes

Series/sequel: Nope. It stands all by itself.

Archive: Yes to EntSTSlash Archive and Tim Ruben.

Spoilers: Not a single one.

Disclaimer: Guess what? I don't own the Star Trek franchise. If I did,
I wouldn't be knee deep in college loans.

Author's Note: First of all, this is the part where I admit to being a
closet R/Mer. Second, I stole the crossword idea from "The Catwalk"
but since the episode had the shoulder touch, I figure it all
balances out. Third, crossword dictionaries do, in fact, exist. My
mother got one from her boyfriend for Christmas. How romantic. . .

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"What's an eight-letter word for a type of poetry that ends in 'l'?"

Malcolm looked up from putting away his clean laundry and across the
room at Travis, who was sitting cross-legged on the bed. "I have a
crossword dictionary on the shelf. It's next to the book on the
Battle of Agincourt."

Without taking his eyes off of the padd, Travis chuckled softly and
replied, "You do know that your books don't have to be in alphabetical
order, right?"

"And I suppose reminding you that every thing in your closet is
grouped by color will do me absolutely no good?"

Travis looked up quickly, noted Malcolm's cheerful smile, and returned
his attentions to his crossword. In his opinion, there were few things
better than a smiling Malcolm. However, at the moment, one of those
things was the answer to number 14 across.

"Exactly." There was a silent moment as Travis paused for effect. "So
what is an eight-letter word for a type of poetry?"

Rolling his eyes, Malcolm set down his stack of shirts on the desk
before joining Travis on the bed. It was hard to resist a persistent
Travis and to be honest, he didn't mind giving in.

"And people think I'm stubborn. They obviously haven't spent too much
time with you."

After setting the padd down beside him, Travis uncrossed his legs,
scooted forward and patted the bed behind him. Taking the hint,
Malcolm moved so he was sitting behind Travis with his back against
the wall. A happy sigh escaped Travis' lips as he leaned backwards
until he was resting comfortably against Malcolm. The strong arms of
the armory officer wrapped around his lover; his hands gently
caressing the younger man's chest.

"The only reason people don't know I'm stubborn is because a certain
armory officer happens to monopolize all of my free time."

Travis could feel Malcolm's breath against his skin as he laughed
softly. He was taller than him so it wasn't often that they cuddled
like this. It felt good either way, though, as long as he was with
Malcolm.

"Speaking of monopolizing, Travis, I believe you owe me a re-match."

It was Travis' turn to chuckle. The man might be a tactical genius but
he was horrible at board games. "It isn't my fault that you passed up
a chance to buy Boardwalk and then managed to land on it three
consecutive times after I bought it."

"I was playing the game strategically. There was no reason to purchase
a space for more money than anything else on the board." The chuckling
from Travis turned into a full-blown laughing attack. "All right, all
right. . . I get the point. Always buy Boardwalk."

The pair sat quietly for a few moments, caressing reachable body
parts. Glancing down at the padd, Malcolm smiled at the half-finished
crossword. "Madrigal."

The softly voiced word shook Travis out of his relaxed daze. "What?"

"An eight-letter word for a type of poetry that ends in 'l'."

"Oh." Travis picked up the padd and marked down the answer. "What's a
madrigal?"

Bending his head downward, Malcolm kissed Travis' neck. "A type of
Italian poetry that was first written in the 14th century."

"Hmmm, sounds. . . old."

"It is. And rather dull, in my opinion."

"What's a nine-letter synonym for precious?"

Malcolm snorted. "Do you want me to get the dictionary for you?"

"No. That would mean you'd move. Besides, I don't need it."

"You don't?"

"Nope. I've got you."

Tenderly, Malcolm pulled Travis closer to him. "That you do."

Leaning forward, Travis placed the padd on the desk next to the
shirts. As Travis settled back against his personal cushion, Malcolm
whispered in the man's ear.

"Cherished, love. The answer is cherished."

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The End