The BLTS Archive - Phase Pistols at Dawn
Aka The Fic with A Name That Has Nothing to Do with What
Happens in It
by linsey (linsey_kree@hotmail.com)

---

Date: May 2003

Spoilers: Nothing specific.

Warnings: Malcolm in leather. Serious health warning should be
attached to that image.

Archive: EntStSlash, BLTS, WWOMB, chaos. Anywhere else just ask first,
I'll probably say yes.

Feedback: it makes me smile.

Notes: He wanted to wear the pants. He wanted to do Ewan McGregor
impressions. Any Ewan performance. He still wants to do Moulin Rouge
but right now he's been placated with Velvet Goldmine, the sexy
bugger.

Disclaimer: Paramount is the big cheese. I am merely like Porthos,
begging for the good stuff.

---

It wasn't Halloween, but it was a dress up party. The Captain's idea.
He wanted to get the crew relaxing and socialising after some pretty
rough times lately.

But Jon couldn't fool his best friend. Trip knew the Captain just
wanted an excuse to put on some fancy dress. He'd always wanted to
dress up as Paul Newman and now, with the help of Quartermaster, he
now had his wish.

Trip looked over at his friend, dressed as one of his favourite long
dead actors. He couldn't remember precisely, never having felt as much
of a fondness for the actor, but the costume was apparently from the
film 'Butch Cassidy'. He really only knew this because Jon had asked
him if he wanted to dress up as the other guy from the film and then
they could go together.

But Trip had declined. The party was to dress up as some sort of movie
character, so no one had been allowed to dress up as a ghost by
putting a sheet over their heads, or dress as some sort of alien.
There were some pretty elaborate costumes, but for the large part they
were simple: placing crew in different decades from history.

Trip had told Jon that if he could dress as one of his heroes, then
Trip would do the same. And he had. He was now standing all dressed in
black. A long black coat that almost reached the floor, black
sunglasses and he'd persuaded Malcolm to let him check out a large
pistol (the energy had been drained from it. Malcolm had looked at the
power levels going down like Trip was killing one of his babies, but
it was the safest way for Trip to complete the costume). The gun
wasn't exactly historically accurate, but it was the best Keanu Reeves
impression he could do light years from Earth.

The party had been underway for about 15 minutes when he arrived and
it looked like most of the crew were now in the room. T'Pol was on the
Bridge with a skeleton crew made up of Gamma shift personnel. They
certainly didn't anticipate any problems, but they needed some people
to stay on duty while the rest of the crew relaxed. It seemed a little
cruel, but Captain Archer had promised them all that they would
definitely be at the next event, regardless of whether they were
scheduled to be on duty or not.

Hoshi was in the corner with Travis, Liz and some of the Environmental
Crew that Trip wasn't really on a first name basis with. Travis had
come as Tom Parker, the comedian from the 2050s. And Hoshi was dressed
as, well he couldn't tell actually. He wasn't exactly an expert on
every movie ever made and Hoshi hadn't told him in advance. But from
what he could see, she was dressed as some sort of male character in
what looked like a gangster type suit and hat. Interesting.

He'd been able to identify certain obvious characters. He loved the
fact that Rostov had come as one of the monster aliens from the film
"Nebula". He'd seen that movie when he was a kid. It wasn't that old,
less than a hundred years. Fantastic movie.

Someone was missing still. The only member of the Bridge crew he was
yet to see was Malcolm. He had no idea what the Lieutenant was
wearing. They'd all been picking their own costumes and telling one
another, it wasn't as if Malcolm would be embarrassing himself in some
skimpy costume or something. But he'd tried and tried to get Mal to
talk and nothing. The Armoury officer had simple shrugged, smiled
rather slyly and told him he'd just have to wait and see.

He just wanted to be prepared. If Malcolm was going to turn up in
something sexy, he wanted to know. He had to be able to control
himself. Prepare to keep his baser instincts at bay while he tried not
to molest the man. Part of his brain was hoping for a big costume with
a mask. He found Malcolm in the Starfleet jumpsuits sexy as it was,
and they covered everything. They showed off Malcolm's butt nicely
though, he did notice that quite a lot. If Malcolm turned up in
something revealing any amount of skin, or anything tight then he
didn't know if he could control himself.

The sexual frustration was just getting way too much.

He leaned against the bar. Thirty more minutes had passed. Malcolm
still hadn't showed, Jon was plying him with drinks.

Maybe he wasn't so much leaning on as propping up. Andorian Ale was
quite the kicker. As was the insane amount of genuine Scottish whiskey
Jon had been feeding him. They'd mingled, they'd joined Hoshi and
Travis when the others had left the group they'd been in. All four of
them were starting to slur their words.

Trip suggested they moved to a table before he fell down and they had.
Weaving their way across the room drunkenly. The Captain had ordered
the bartender to bring a pitcher of beer to their table. He was the
Captain, he could order the crew to do anything.

"Maybe I should order everyone to drink more."

"You don' havta make that'n order, Sir." Travis slurred. "Jus' ask an'
we'll prolly do it."

The table giggled and Trip sloshed some of the beer onto the table.

"Hey! Don' waste it!" Hoshi cried out loudly as Trip mopped it up with
the end of his coat. He was getting kind of hot but he looked real
cool. He didn't want to take it off. And he thought he looked kinda
sexy too. He had this hope that Malcolm would see him in it and throw
himself at Trip telling him how sexy and handsome and sexy he was.

Thinking of which. "Anyone seen Mal yet?" he asked the table.

They all tried to look around the room.

"Nope." Jon replied. "He forget? Wha's he wearing anyway?"

"He wouldn't say." Hoshi answered, forgetting about the spilled beer
and concentrating on her own glass.

Trip sighed and the others looked at him. "Wha. . . ?"

"You like him." Jon teased, smiling and leaning over to Trip a little.
He waved his glass in the air as he talked. "I think you like him, am
I righ'? You like him?"

"Course I like 'im. He's a friend." Trip did his best not to blush and
keep serious. But it was difficult to act sincere when drunk and your
head was bobbing slightly as you spoke.

Jon laughed and turned to Hoshi and Travis. "He likes Malcolm." He
continued in a stage whisper. "I think he wants to see Malcolm naked."

"Hey!" Trip slapped Jon really hard on the arm. So hard that the chair
moved and since Jon no longer had much control on his balance, he fell
off the chair with a thump. Hoshi and Travis snorted as they began
giggling. Trip looked down at the dazed man. "Di' I do that?"

He leaned down and helped pull Jon back into the seat. Once Jon was
propped up safely his head sagged forward and hit the table. He was
fine just. . .  sitting with his head on the table.

The doors swished open, and Trip turned to see who it was.

Malcolm.

Oh. God.

Malcolm.

What the hell. . . ?

"Oh my God." Trip breathed and pawed at Jon to raise his head again.
Hoshi and Travis turned to face the doors, mouths gaping open. Jon
joined in the fish impressions once he could see clearly at a distance
again.

"Malcolm?" Trip asked. Malcolm was too far away to hear, of course.

"Looks like him." Travis answered. "Well, for the most part. What the
hell is he wearing?"

"I don't care. He looks HOT." Hoshi answered as she blindly moved her
hand back behind her trying to find her glass. She found it and took a
large gulp from it, never taking her eyes off the man now walking
towards the bar. The man had a damn good ass in those pants.

Malcolm greeted some of his staff, shaking hands. Most people in the
room were beginning to get a little drunk after the hour had passed
since the party had started. Malcolm was probably the only sober one
around.

Trip watched him as he walked. The tight black leather pants left
nothing to be desired. He was wearing a long, silvery top as well that
was almost completely transparent and he had nothing on underneath.
Malcolm's honed chest clearly visible for all to see. He was also
wearing high heeled shoes or boots, making him taller and they changed
his walk slightly as he got used to a different centre of balance. And
the hair, oh god, the hair. It looked shiny as if wet, though it was
probably some sort of gel. Malcolm had spiked it at all different
angles and it set of his facial features beautifully.

Hoshi was right. The guy was Hot in those clothes. Trip had no idea
what movie it was from, but whatever it was he wanted to see it.

He whimpered as Malcolm walked further round the bar, his ass very
much in Trip's line of sight. Jon turned to him at the strangled sound
and watched as Trip shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"Trip, aren't you going to go over there?"

"You kiddin'?"

"I don't think I am. . .  what was I. . . " Malcolm shifted again as
Jon watched. "Geez. Trip, I'm very drunk, I know this. So I know I
could easily do something monumenull. . .  monme. . .  very stupid
involving Malcolm if you don't."

"You wouldn't!" Trip exclaimed, feeling a surge of possessiveness fall
over him at the thought and awful mental pictures of Jon coming onto
Malcolm.

"Normally no. But I no longer have the capacity for reason. The booze
killed those brain cells. So I might. If you don't."

There was an obvious push in the last sentence, but Trip was beyond
being able to realise this.

"If you dare I'll set up a Warp Core breach and take us all out. Ain't
no one touching Mal but me, y'hear?!"

Jon didn't answer. Instead he just held up his hands in surrender,
then motioned for Trip to leave. Travis stood and came round the
table. He picked up Trip from under the arms and then used all his
strength to shove Trip in Malcolm's general direction. "Go!" He
ordered the Commander.

Trip lost all his balance and fell, sprawled on the floor flat on his
face. So much for getting help from his so called friends to get
standing again, he turned his head to see them all giggling, doubled
over, laughing at him.

"Bastards." He swore to himself. Then a flash of leather obscured his
view and he felt arms on his back, attempting to find some sort of
hold to stand him up.

"Commander, are you okay?" The English accent was unmistakable. Either
was the crotch he was seeing only about a foot away from his face.
Wrapped in leather it was almost too much for him to take. He lost all
higher brain functions as the blood being pumped up there gave up the
fight and made it's way south. Why bother feeding the brain? Damn
thing was no good right now.

"I. . .  I. . . " He had no idea what word to say after that. So he
settled on using the same one again since he knew how to say it
already. "I."

Malcolm pulled him into a sitting position. He stayed there, legs
sprawled in front of him, leaning back on his hands. Malcolm was
squatting down, his arms resting on his knees as he looked at Trip.
The leather tightened over his legs and Trip's eyes were drawn still
to Malcolm's crotch.

Malcolm looked down, checking himself, then back to Trip as he didn't
find anything wrong. 'What?"

"You wearing. . .  what?" Trip asked, his voice rather more high
pitched than usual.

"Oh. I'm Ewan McGregor. I took a bit of liberty with the costume
though. Technically I shouldn't be wearing anything on top, but I
couldn't bring myself to come topless. I spent about half an hour
arguing with myself over whether or not to put the top on. That's why
I was late. Pathetic, isn't it."

"No. . . " Trip replied, drawing out the word. "No. It's very nice."

"The shoes are strange though. I'm not used to the heel at all. But
they look great with the trousers."

"Uh-huh." Trip took the opportunity to take in all of Malcolm, as if
assessing what Malcolm was telling him.

"You should be accurate. Take top off. I'll do it if y'like." He had
no idea why he said it. He was thinking it and his mouth decided to
join in. Oh, his mouth wanted to really join in in many, many
different ways and places.

"Trip?" Malcolm asked as he began pulling Trip up again to stand.

"I'll get it off you, it won't be hard. Is it hot in here?" Trip
circled round a little, looking around. Their friends were watching,
but as he looked round they all tried to win staring matched with
their drinks. The other people around the place seemed to take no
notice of them though. The drinking game going on at the opposite
corner was loud and taking up most of the crowd's attention.

"Well, you are wearing that long coat, of course you're hot. Matrix?"

"Yeah. . .  wanted to look cool. Thanks for the gun. Dunno where it is
now. . . "

"I'll get it in the morning, I saw it over at the bar and told the
Steward there to keep hold of it until later. Come on, let's join the
others."

"Wait, Malcolm." Trip grabbed Malcolm's elbow. The feel of the
material was so soft and light and slid to ride up Malcolm's arm a
little. "There was somethin' I was supposed to do. Jon told me to
before he did and so I hafta or else he'll do it an' I'll get mad and
blow us all up."

"You. . . ? How much have you had to drink, Trip?" Malcolm asked
confused.

"A lot. And I think it's good cos it's gonna help with this. Courage
an' all. Promise you won't slap me or something'?"

"I, yes, okay, I won't slap you."

"Okeydoke." Trip smiled and pulled Malcolm in, planting a rough kiss
on Malcolm's lips. Hs arms snaked around Malcolm's waist keeping him
in place as his head pushed down on Malcolm's forcing them to keep the
contact even if Malcolm wanted them to separate.

He heard Malcolm's yelp of surprise and felt the body tense underneath
his, but he kept going thinking this may be his only chance. A drunk
chance. He hoped his alcohol addled brain would be able to remember
every nuance, every ounce of detail in this. He pushed open Malcolm's
lips with his tongue, pushing his way inside. Malcolm's body began to
relax and his tongue met Trip's, stroking against one another,
beginning a sensual rhythm. Eventually they had to pull back. Trip's
frazzled, hazy brain unwound it's tight grasp around Malcolm's waist,
allowing the other man to pull back and break the contact, allowing
them to breath again. Trip still kept his hands on Malcolm's hips.

"Hmmm, Malcolm." He murmured, closing the gap for more.

Malcolm pulled back completely out of Trip's hold and looked around
the room nervously. Eyes were on them. Two senior officers making out
in a public place. It wasn't a sight they saw every day. The looks
only lasted a short time more but the surprised expressions on the
crew's faces were there long enough to be noticed. But then they
looked away and turned back to conversations and games. All except one
table of senior officers who did there best to watch while pretending
to get back to their own conversation.

"Oh god." Malcolm said, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. He
looked like he was about ready to bolt for the door, so with a steady
lunge he didn't even realise he'd be capable of, Trip grabbed hold of
Malcolm around the waist. He was holding on from the side though, but
determined not to let go. He had to keep Malcolm with him, he knew
that much. Malcolm had to know that Trip wanted something more from
him, not just some silly kiss.

Fantastic kiss. But that was beside the point.

"Stop it, it's okay." He kissed Malcolm's hair and cheek. Normally
he'd be able to reach Malcolm's temple or forehead, but with the shoes
on, Malcolm was closer to his own height.

"They all saw us. Oh God the Captain saw us."

"'member what I said. He told me to do it, else he'd do it himself."

"Oh god." Malcolm seemed to be ignoring what Trip had just said.

"Malcolm!" Everyone in the room turned to look at them again at Trip's
call, it was so loud, despite being pressed against Malcolm's ear.

Trip scowled at the room, while Malcolm looked at his feet. Trip was
surprised that Malcolm hadn't moved away. He could do it, easily.
Trained, sober security officer versus drunk chief engineer. Anyone
could call that battle. So Trip wasn't going to look a gift horse in
the mouth right now.

Why would anyone look a gift horse in the mouth? Why is the mouth the
place you shouldn't look? It had something to do with the Trojan war,
that was obvious but the cliché really made no sense at all. All Trip
knew about horses was that you should keep away from their rear ends,
that was enough.

But Malcolm's rear end. He *really* wanted to get close to that.

"Malcolm, you look damned sexy right now. These pants are driving me
wild."

"They are?" Malcolm sounded shocked as he tried to look at himself
from different angles.

"Hell yes. Let me peel them off you? I wanna unwrap you like a
Birthday present."

"You're drunk." Malcolm looked at him sceptically.

"I'm sobering up." Trip kept his gaze steady with Malcolm's, silently
pleading with the other man to say something along the lines of 'Yes,
yes, take me now!'

Trip leaned in again planting his most seductive kiss, the most
passionate one in his repertoire, on Malcolm's mouth. He felt himself
groan, and he felt Malcolm groan as they both let the kiss take them
wherever it wanted to lead. Tongues duelling, bodies touching, hands
beginning to explore. Trip had to get Malcolm out of this room and
somewhere more private as soon as possible.

The kiss broke slowly, Trip nibbled gently on Malcolm's lower lip and
licked it before slowly brushing his lips against Malcolm's, ghosting
them across his until he pulled back. Slowly, languidly he opened his
eyes, mere centimetres from Malcolm's face, desire burning in the
small gap between them as they held on to each other.

"I may be insane, but I think I'd follow you anywhere." Malcolm said
breathily.

Trip smiled and let out a small chuckle, watching the answering smile
play on Malcolm's lips.

Trip kept one arm around Malcolm's waist and began leading them out of
the Mess. He turned his head behind him briefly and looked at his
friends. All three of them gave him the thumbs up and he did the same
back just as the doors closed behind him and Malcolm.

---

The next morning, Captain Archer sat in his seat on the Bridge looking
a little pale and clutching a mug of coffee as if his life depended on
it. He turned to Hoshi and spoke in a voice that held a slight rasp to
it. "Has Phlox prepared more of his wonder hangover cure yet?"

"He said he'd inform me when it was ready, Sir." Hoshi also looked a
little green around the gills.

"Tell him to hurry up."

"Aye, Sir."

The doors swished open and out strode both Commander Tucker and
Lieutenant Reed. Archer swivelled in his chair to greet them.
"Morning, gentlemen."

He got two answering 'good mornings' from the men and he continued to
watch as Malcolm took his seat, a little gingerly, and Trip stayed
standing in his usual spot by the Tactical station. However today, if
it was remotely possible, he seemed to be standing even closer to
Malcolm than usual.

"Have a nice evening?" Jon asked them.

Trip smirked at him and Malcolm kept his eyes on his console, briefly
looking up at the Captain trying to appear as if he hadn't had sex the
night before.

"Fantastic, Cap'n."

"You're awful chipper this morning, Trip. Did you see Phlox before he
ran out of hangover drug?"

"Nope. Didn't need to bother with it." His hand drifted over Malcolm's
back, and then he smirked at Jon. The reason why Trip hadn't needed it
was all to obvious to everyone in the room.

---

The End