The BLTS Archive - Worthless
#13: Undiminished
by miera (mierac72@yahoo.com)

---

Archive: Ask first

Date: December 17, 2003

Author's Notes: There's a tiny bit of M/F action in here, but it doth
not interfere with the slash.

Beta: Leah the Great!

Spoilers: General Season 3 developments only

Author's Notes: In my head, a lot of stuff has happened (and not
happened) between Malcolm and Trip since "Anniversaries," but none of
those stories have been written and posted. Hopefully this will pick
up the thread without being too confusing. Also I realize it's
unlikely anyone is still listening to The Waitresses a century from
now, but it's my favorite Christmas song, so I left it in there. Happy
Holidays everyone!

Feedback: Is like peanut butter and chocolate together!

---

It was about fifteen minutes before midnight on Christmas Eve, with
the holiday party in full swing, when a silence fell over the Mess
hall. Trip turned around and noticed that a young woman in uniform was
standing next to the artificial Christmas tree. He knew her name was
Emily Harris, one of the communications officers. She had a fantastic
voice. His first birthday on Enterprise, she had lead half the crew in
a rousing chorus of "The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down," in his
honor. At the Christmas party last year she and several of the other
night shift crew had serenaded the rest of them with a swing version
of "We Three Kings."

Harris stood beside the tree, waiting until the chattering in the room
died down. When she had everyone's attention, she took a deep breath
and began to sing.

"Dona nobis pacem. . . "

The beautiful voice seemed to fill the entire room. The ancient plea
for peace had never felt quite so poignant before. Trip felt tears
begin to well up in his eyes. It was impossible not to think about all
the people who had been lost, not to feel slightly guilty for wanting
to take even these few hours to rest from their mission.

He heard a sound and noticed Hoshi, standing beside him, wiping her
face. Travis wrapped his arm around her shoulders comfortingly.

Harris sang two choruses of the song and then stopped. Everyone
applauded, more than a few trying to remove the traces of tears from
their own eyes.

As the applause died down, Travis observed quietly, "You know, my
brother and I used to sing that 'Donut, no bus, punch him' and then
try to pummel the daylights out of each other."

Trip chuckled. Hoshi rolled her eyes. "Sometimes I feel an enormous
sympathy for your mother," she said.

Before the mood in the room got too somber, two other women, Crewman
Grant from the maintenance staff and Ensign Vallejo from the Science
department, stepped up behind Harris. Music began to play from the
comm. panel, which at first sounded like a generic Christmas carol,
then a guitar cut across the tinkling bells.

Trip had never heard this particular Christmas song, but when the
singers got to the chorus, "Christmas by myself this year," a
resounding cheer went up. He listened to the tale of holiday romance
and he had to laugh.

When they got near the end of the song, Harris headed for the door and
the rest of the night shift fell in behind her, clapping and singing
along. They made a little parade out into the corridor, on their way
to start work for the night.

He felt a bit sorry for them. It couldn't be fun to leave a Christmas
party to go to on shift for eight hours. Then he remembered some
stories about the night crew's Christmas party last year. Apparently
it involved a very risqué version of "Santa Baby" and some nakedness,
which far outdid even the wildest party he'd ever been to on board. He
decided there wasn't really a need to feel sorry for people who were
so capable of making their own fun.

"Oh boy," Travis said suddenly.

"What?" Hoshi frowned. Travis nodded towards the food table, and Hoshi
and Trip both turned to look.

Malcolm was standing by the table, chatting with one of his team.

Right under the mistletoe.

Trip's stomach lurched as a sudden and wholly unexpected shot of
longing went through his body. He could easily picture himself
crossing the room to Malcolm, grabbing him and bending him backwards
over the table, kissing the man senseless. Trip shivered, but pushed
the thought resolutely away.

Malcolm would kill anyone who took advantage of him right now, Trip
was sure. The man would be embarrassed beyond words, and ready to
throttle whoever put him in such a compromising position.

"Um, maybe we ought to warn him?" he managed to say, annoyed that his
voice was high pitched and slightly breathless.

"I'll do it," Hoshi said, with a suspicious smirk on her face. Trip
watched as she weaved her way through the crowd to arrive right behind
Malcolm. Hoshi set down her drink and waited patiently, as Malcolm was
still chatting with the other man. She glanced over at Travis and Trip
and winked at them both.

Malcolm's conversational partner finally left and just then Hoshi
"accidentally" bumped into Malcolm. He turned around, and Trip could
tell he was apologizing. Hoshi smiled and then crooked her finger to
make him lean down. Malcolm looked puzzled, but he complied.

Hoshi leaned into him and thoroughly smooched the unsuspecting armory
officer.

A roar of amusement rolled through the Mess hall as everyone turned to
look.

Trip reflected that he had never known anyone who could turn fire
engine red as fast as Malcolm did.

Malcolm stared at Hoshi in bewilderment, and she stretched up and said
something in his ear. Malcolm looked up, chuckled, and then smiled
down at Hoshi, his mouth curving in his characteristically flirtatious
smirk.

A sharp pain lanced through Trip's entire body at the sight. He
actually stumbled slightly, as if shocked off his footing, but
fortunately Travis was laughing so hard he didn't notice.

Malcolm gave Hoshi a one-armed hug, saying something that made her
elbow him in the ribs, both of them laughing. Trip could hear someone
behind him commenting to a companion, "Shit, Reed and Sato? Did you
know about that?"

Watching Malcolm, beet red but still smiling at Hoshi, Trip felt an
emotion he thought he'd never feel again.

Jealousy.

---

Trip bargained with himself during the entire journey to Malcolm's
quarters. He would not use his command code to open the door. That
would be wrong. If the other code still worked, he'd take that as a
sign, and use it. But if it didn't work, he would walk away.

He paused in front of Malcolm's door, wondering yet again if this was
a good idea. Realizing someone could see him lurking in the hallway
outside Malcolm's quarters, he punched the code in quickly.

The door slid open.

Trip took a deep breath, steeling himself even though he knew Malcolm
wasn't there, and stepped inside.

The door closed behind him and Trip looked around the room, the lights
on low. He hadn't been in Malcolm's quarters for a while. Nothing
seemed different. That seemed wrong, somehow. After all this time, all
the things that had changed, he felt things shouldn't look the same.
"Maybe some things don't change," he thought to himself.

The door code hadn't changed, for one. That was also odd. Personal
codes were supposed to be changed every few months for security
reasons. It was sloppy for Malcolm of all people not to have changed
his. A tiny voice in Trip's head whispered that maybe Malcolm had left
the code because of him, but he squashed the thought sternly. Malcolm
probably was too busy with other, more important, things to get around
to changing his code. They had all been so busy since this mission had
started. A lot of little things had fallen by the wayside since the
Xindi attack.

Like his relationship with Malcolm.

Malcolm had supported him unfailingly during the days following the
Xindi attack, as he worried about his sister, and feared the worst.
After that first, horrible night, Trip had received a message
containing nothing but a set of numbers; the personal code to
Malcolm's door.

He had never used it. Until now.

Trip paced aimlessly up and down the room. He hardly ever spoke to
Malcolm now except about ship's business, and Trip couldn't remember
the last occasion where they actually spent any time together off
duty. They'd both been so busy, there just didn't seem to be time.

They had never not been busy, Trip knew, even before the Expanse,
before the Xindi. But his priorities were different now. He had to put
the ship and the mission first. He had told himself Malcolm probably
felt the same way.

Then again, he had been so sure that Malcolm would explode in a
humiliated rage if anyone publicly embarrassed him, even if it was a
friend like Hoshi. The man hated being exposed in front of other
people like that. But Trip had stood there and watched Malcolm merely
blush and laugh, unfazed by the kiss or the glances.

It wasn't the Malcolm he knew. Trip realized, with a sense of near-
horror, just how much distance had come to separate him from his. . .
from Malcolm, in the past few months.

There had been a time when he felt he knew Malcolm better than anyone
else on board. Of course, that was back when Trip actually spent time
around someone other than T'Pol or the Captain. When he had the luxury
of thinking about something other than his sister and his rage.

Trip knew he had changed during this mission. Given the circumstances,
it was rather inevitable. Somehow, he hadn't bargained on Malcolm
changing as well. But he had.

Things were so different now. What if everything was different?

Trip turned towards the door, panic rising in this throat. He had
leave, before anyone found out he'd been in here. . .

At that moment the door whooshed open.

---

Malcolm walked to his quarters, avoiding the eyes of everyone he
met. He just wanted to get to his room and be able to hide until
tomorrow morning.

Malcolm had rarely been so shocked as when Hoshi grabbed him and
kissed him in full view of nearly the entire crew. When she whispered
in his ear that she figured she should get to him before someone else
did, his eyes involuntarily went right to Trip.

The engineer looked as surprised as Malcolm felt. His heart gave a
small, hurtful pang at the sight, but that was it. No guilt, no anger,
no terror, just a tiny bit of remorse and nothing else. It was sad,
but it was also something of a relief.

Malcolm had squeezed Hoshi in a hug and mockingly thanked her for
being so selfless and noble. Even hearing the whispering going around
the room, knowing it was about the two of them, he found that he
didn't particularly care. Let them think whatever they wanted.
Including Trip.

A couple of crewmen passed him as he reached his door, wishing him a
Merry Christmas. He nodded and stepped into the peaceful silence of
his quarters. He took two steps inside before halting abruptly.

Trip was standing there, waiting for him.

The two of them stared at each other through the dim lighting. Malcolm
noted that Trip was tense, his face looking nervous and confused and
upset all at once.

"Trip?" he asked quietly, unsure what was going on.

Trip didn't answer. Malcolm moved closer, growing worried. Trip didn't
seem to be acting like himself. Then again, Malcolm reflected, that
had been true of the man for months. It had been so long since they
had spent any time together, he really had no idea what the engineer's
normal range of behavior was any more.

Trip stared into his face, still not speaking. Malcolm reached out and
put his hand on Trip's shoulder. "Are you all right?"

One of Trip's arms went around Malcolm's waist. A hand wrapped itself
around the back of his head and Malcolm felt himself pulled into
Trip's arms.

Trip kissed him with a fervor and longing that made his whole body
ache. Malcolm's hand grabbed hold of Trip's shoulder, trying to steady
himself. He felt the other man's skin brushing against his, the slight
rasp of beard growth tickling against his cheek as Trip nuzzled his
lips apart. Malcolm opened his mouth, yielding, wanting to feel the
warmth of Trip's tongue brushing against his.

Trip's arm tightened around his back. Malcolm was dimly aware of the
body under his hands, the smell of Trip's skin, all sublimated under
the sweetest kiss he'd ever received.

Trip pulled away, reluctantly, both of them breathing hard and
shallowly. Malcolm felt Trip's hands loosening their grip on him and
he pulled back immediately, trying to regain some kind of balance,
still unsure of what was going on.

Trip's blue eyes were full of sadness and relief. Malcolm felt warm
fingers gently brush along his jaw line and he leaned into the touch
before he could stop himself.

As his hand dropped away, Trip spoke softly. "Merry Christmas,
Malcolm."

Malcolm's brain kicked out the response automatically, "Happy
Christmas, Trip."

The engineer walked quietly to the door. He cast a quick look over his
shoulder, but left without saying anything else.

The door closed and Malcolm took two steps forward, thinking to follow
his friend. Then he stopped.

What would he say?

Malcolm plopped down on his bed, dizzy and confused, aroused and also
very angry.

He fervently hoped that was the last big shock he was in for that
night.

---

The End