By shakespearespot

Trip wandered out of the cool stone corridors of the monastery and into the bright summer sun. God it was hot. He could already feel beads of sweat forming on his brow and he knew it was going to be a really, really long day.

He pulled at the neck of his uniform and walked towards the center of the courtyard, vaguely noticing the garden surrounding him. Trip glanced back at the captain, who was talking to Abbot Tarin. When he had agreed to come

with Jon to *La'tar* to make first contact, he hadn't expected to spend the day touring all of the temples and monasteries in the area. So, while Hoshi and Malcolm were having the time of their lives exploring the countryside and the marketplace, Trip had to be on his best behavior and make nice with the natives. He'd much rather be home with his engine.

He blinked as he found himself standing in front of an ancient stone fountain, water spouting out of a fey-looking creature's hands. He loosened the buttons at the top of his black shirt and dipped his hands in the water, splashing the cool liquid over his neck and face.

He heard a joyous shout behind him. Turning his head, he noticed the abbot saying something quickly to Jon and running into the monastery.

"What's going on, Cap'n?" He called out.

Archer glanced at his friend. "Don't know."

"Well what did he say to ya?"

"He saw you cooling yourself off and asked me why I hadn't told him I had someone in my crew who wished to have the ceremony performed."

"What ceremony?"

"Haven't a clue."

Trip frowned and leaned his hips against the fountain. Suddenly, a dozen monks and novices in black and gray robes hurried out of the monastery behind the abbot. Tarin ran up to Trip and pulled at his arms, the other monks just as insistent. "Come, come, young one. We must get to the marketplace to perform the ceremony."

"Huh?"

"*Ven'ta*r is at hand. The ceremony must be performed before it comes. Follow. The ceremony must be performed." All of the monks nodded vigorously at the abbot's words, and Trip found himself being dragged out of

the courtyard and down the path he knew led to the marketplace's equivalent of a town square. Jon followed from behind, amused at Trip's obvious confusion.

"Cap'n?" Trip said in a panicked tone.

"Just go with it, Trip."

"Go with what?"

Jon shrugged, a slight smirk crossing his face at Trip's distress. Really, what could happen with a bunch of monks?

*

When they got to the marketplace, the monks stopped and the abbot called out to the crowd in a loud voice. "This man wishes to have the ceremony performed." Cheers rang out and a wide circle quickly formed around Trip and

the monks. Jon stood at the edge of the circle to watch the festivities.

The monks encircled Trip and began to pull at his uniform. He jerked away as one of the monks began to pull down his zipper. "Cap'n? What`re they doin'?"

"Stripping you, it would seem."

"Why?" He scowled at one of the grey-robed novices. "Hey, you leave that alone."

Jon chuckled. "Just let them strip you, Trip. You'll be fine."

"Easy for you to say." Despite Trip's attempts to ward off those trying to divest him of his uniform, the monks succeeded in stripping him down to his bright blue regulation briefs. One of them folded up his uniform, shirt, and tank top, and placed them somewhere out of Trip's sight.

Finally, Abbot Tarin turned to Trip. "Now, who is your *e'tam*?"

"Huh?" Trip stared at the man, beat red with embarrassment.

"Your *e'tam*."

"I don't know what that word means," he said, sulking. Trip looked away from the monk's inquisitive eyes and saw Malcolm and Hoshi approach Jon's side.

"Great. Just great," he muttered.

Malcolm stared at Trip while Hoshi began to giggle. Malcolm turned to Archer. "Captain, may I ask what's going on? And why is the commander out of uniform . . . again?" Trip scowled at the smirk on Malcolm's face.

"They're performing some kind of ceremony," Jon replied

Malcolm immediately grew serious. "Are you sure that's safe, sir?"

"Doesn't appear to be harming anything."

Malcolm nodded, apparently satisfied with that answer. Realizing his services would not be needed, he decided he might as well enjoy Trip's obvious embarrassment.

Trip had heard snatches of the conversation and suddenly shouted out,

"Speak for yourself. My pride's getting pretty abused here."

Jon sighed. "Trip, remember that ceremony I had to perform on Kreetassa because I offended the aliens?" Trip nodded. "Think of this as a pre-emptive strike. You wouldn't want to offend anyone, *would you*?" Trip scowled and looked away.

The abbot sighed and looked pointedly at Trip. "Young man, please pay attention; we haven't much time. Now who is your *e'tam*?"

"I already told ya, I don't know what that word means."

Hoshi eyes widened and she began to giggle again; Trip scowled at her before returning his attention to the head monk.

"Commander?"

"Yeah?"

The abbot looked exasperated. "Who is the one who is strong?"

"Huh?"

"Fierce?"

"That's not helping."

"The one who drives you to madness? Anger?"

"That could be a lot of people," Trip looked pointedly at his three friends in the crowd.

"Who makes you laugh? Who works by your side?" Trip shook his head.

Malcolm started laughing at Trip's irritation. Trip glared at him. "Your protector?"

"My protector? Oh, that's easy. That'd be Malcolm," he replied through gritted teeth.

The abbot's shoulders straightened, "Who is this Malcolm?"

"That short guy over there laughin' at me," he growled.

The abbot nodded at two of the monks, and they ran over to Malcolm, grabbing his arms and drawing him into the circle.

His eyes widened and he stiffened. "Captain? What's going on?"

"Malcolm, just go with it."

"But—"

"That's an order," he said firmly.

The monks guided Malcolm to Trip's right side.

Trip frowned at him and then looked at the abbot. "How come he gets to keep *his* clothes on?"

"Because he is *ruamsai*," the monk replied matter-of-factly.

Trip rolled his eyes. "Oh, well, that explains it." The abbot ignored the comment.

The monks then turned both men so they were facing each other, taking Malcolm's right hand and Trip's left, having them interlock their fingers together, palms up.

"Cap'n, what kind of ceremony makes ya join hands with someone?"

"Your guess is as good as mine."

"Hoshi?"

Hoshi tried to contain her mirth and listened as the monks began to chant.

Her eyes widened again and she began to laugh.

"Hoshi?" Trip repeated again.

She coughed. "It's a very archaic language. I don't understand it fully."

"Well what do ya understand?"

"Oh . . . it's just something about . . . officially making Malcolm your protector."

Trip tried to draw back slightly, but the monks pushed him forward again. "

All right," he said slowly. "I guess that's okay. He does that anyway."

The abbot suddenly stopped chanting. "Quiet, young one. You must not speak until the ceremony is complete," the abbot reprimanded.

Trip clamped his lips shut at the order.

Jon leaned down to Hoshi. "What is this really?" He whispered.

Hoshi looked up at him conspiratorially. "Just what I said. Malcolm will officially be Trip's protector . . . forever."

Trip jerked his head in Jon's direction as the other man started to laugh, tears streaming down his face. "Wha—"

One of the monks fingers suddenly covered his lips. "Silence."

The ceremony continued for quite some time, the monks chanting in complicated rhythms while the crowd hummed along. Towards the end of the ceremony, round, metallic discs were placed on the wrists of the interlocked hands. The shiny, silvery objects were intricate in design, with swirling patterns covering their surfaces, and it seemed to the two men as if the discs were becoming a part of them. It didn't hurt but the oddness of the feeling made them pull back. Suddenly the abbot grasped their twined fingers and held them still, allowing the discs to finish their task.

He then took them off, and Trip and Malcolm could see that the silver objects had imprinted their design, rather like a tattoo only in shining silvery swirls, on the inside of their outstretched wrists.

Tarin bowed his head and began to chant alone, slowly, his voice rich and deep. Hoshi listened intently and then began to chortle. "What?" Jon asked.

She only laughed harder.

"What?" He repeated.

She took a deep breath before responding. "The abbot is giving Trip the right to bear Malcolm children."

Trip scowled at Jon again as he began to howl, clutching his knees to keep himself upright.

"It is finished," Tarin said suddenly. He motioned to one of the novices, who came forward bearing Trip's clothing. He bowed, presenting the pile to Malcolm, who took them with a frown.

The novice looked up at Malcolm, eyes twinkling. "You are the *ruamsai*; these are yours now. Whether or not you choose to give them to your *e'tam*

is up to you." He glanced back at the abbot and over at Trip and then whispered,

"Although personally, I'd keep him just as he is."

Tarin grabbed the novice by the arm. "Young one, watch your words."

"My apologies, old father," he replied meekly.

The abbot shook his head and then looked at Trip. "Although you do have a point. If I were younger and had not taken a vow of chastity..."

Trip's eyes widened and he blushed over the old man's words.

The holy man turned to Malcolm and said gravely, "May you protect him always, *ruamsai*." The abbot bowed to Malcolm, and Malcolm glanced around quickly before finally bowing back. The abbot smiled and then called out to his brethren. They left the circle, and the people began to drift back to the shops.

Hoshi ran up to Malcolm's side and grasped his arm, jumping up and down with glee. "I'm so happy for you. Oooh, I can't wait to tell Travis! He's just going to love this!" She jumped up and planted a kiss on his cheek. Malcolm drew back slightly and stared at her.

Jon came up behind Trip and put an arm around his shoulder, grinning. "So Trip, when will there be little ones running around the ship?"

Trip scowled at him. "What the hell are you talkin' about?"

Malcolm's eyes widened. He stared at Jon, then turned his head back to look at Hoshi's happy grin, then down at the uniform in his arms and the symbol on his wrist. "Oh, shit."

***

Jon stood with Abbot Tarin outside the shuttlepod later that afternoon.

"Why are they standing so far apart?" Tarin asked.

Jon glanced over at his crewmates, who were standing at opposite ends of the shuttlepod, refusing to look at one another.

"Um, I don't think they were ... expecting to end up married."

"What? But I thought ... I assumed ... your commander washed himself in the fountain. Did he not know?"

"I don't know what you think I didn't know but I can tell you straight out I didn't." Trip called out.

"My, my, don't we have a way with words. Why am I not surprised?" Malcolm sneered.

Trip's nostrils flared. "Shut-up."

Malcolm folded his arms across his chest, his eyes narrowing. "Make me."

Jon gave them both a look before turning back to the abbot. "I have a few questions for you."

"Yeah, like how we get a divorce," Trip called out.

The monk took a step back, eyes widening in horror.

"Trip, you're not helping." Jon drew Tarin out of hearing range.

"They cannot divorce," the monk said fiercely.

Archer closed his eyes and gathered his thoughts before speaking. "Our ...

customs are not the same as yours. I didn't understand exactly what was happening. Could you please explain to me what I can expect and what I can tell them when they finally calm down?"

The abbot nodded slowly. "In our culture, when one wishes to marry, the one known as the *ruamtai* comes to the fountain and washes his or her neck and face. This symbolizes a cut from the family and all one's possessions; a desire to begin a new life with another. The *ruamtai* then declares who is the *e'tam*. This person then takes him in and becomes the protector, the *ruamsai*."

"A marriage, then?"

"Yes."

"Our marriage ceremonies are a bit different. Why did you strip Trip?"

"The person who washes comes to the *ruamsai* with only the clothes on his back and must be stripped of everything. This proves his acceptance of the protector's kindness and guidance. It proves he is humble."

"So that's why you gave Trip's clothing to Malcolm?"

The abbot nodded.

"So have ya figured that divorce thing out yet, Cap'n?" Trip called out.

The monk frowned. "They cannot divorce, Captain. The discs would not have imprinted their design if they had not been true mates."

Jon glanced over at his friend. "Yeah. I know."

"You know? Then what is the problem?"

"Trip doesn't."

"Ah, so that is the way of it. His heart knows the truth but his mind does not."

"Isn't that the truth."

"Captain, you must realize that separating them would put them in great peril. You must not let them; the *y'io* would not allow it," Tarin stated emphatically.

"The *y'io*?"

"The design on their wrists."

"How would some design put them in danger?"

"The *y'io* is a symbol of their relationship. Also, it symbolizes who is the protector and who is the *ruamtai*. The *ruamsai* bears his mark on the right for, in ancient times, the ruamsai was a warrior and would stand on the right

so he could more easily draw his sword and place it in front of his mate. The **ruamtai* bears his on the left to indicate he is receiving protection and so that he would not, in the past, get in the way when the sword was drawn."

"Malcolm'll like that." The abbot raised an eyebrow. "He likes weapons."

"Ah. A good *ruamsai* then.

Jon looked the abbot in the eye. "But they're just symbols, father. They have nothing to do with our culture. They wouldn't put my men in any danger."

"They are not *just* symbols, Captain."

"What do you mean?"

"They connect the two men."

"So you said. We have rings in my culture that do the same."

"I do not believe your rings are the same, young one. The *y'io* connects them with an empathic bond. They cannot read each other's thoughts but they can feel each other's emotions if they wish." He paused. "They are connected now. They are one. They must be together."

Jon blinked. "Oh, great."

"Also, it would ... be best to make them share quarters at night," Tarin said

delicately.

Jon glanced at the two men who were busy scowling at one another. "They're not exactly typical newlyweds. I don't think that's going to happen any time soon."

"It must. They will not be able to stay apart from one another for any great length of time. It would be unbearable."

"I think they would disagree with you on that point."

"It's not a matter of them disagreeing. They will not be able to sleep without the other. The *y'io will not let them*; they are connected."

Jon sighed. "Yep. Great. Just great. Anything else I need to know?"

The monk thought for a moment, then looked at Trip and Malcolm who were back to ignoring each other.

"They do not seem pleased with the arrangement."

Jon glanced at the men again and grunted.

"You must convince them it is right. But until that time, know that they cannot, out of spite, decide to ... stray. It would be most painful for them."

"That *y'io* thing again?"

"Yes."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Good."

Jon smiled as he walked down the halls of *Enterprise*, Malcolm and Trip following. Despite his concern for the two men, he was really quite happy for his friends. They might not realize it yet, but it was, as the abbot had said, a

perfect match. Jon had noticed Trip's tendency to hover behind Malcolm on the bridge and how his gaze always seemed to stay with Malcolm a little longer than necessary. And when Jon invited Trip to dinner, every sentence

that came out of Trip's mouth seemed to begin with "Malcolm said this" or "Malcolm did that." It was patently obvious to Jon that Trip was hopelessly in love with his ruamsai, even if he didn't know it yet.

The only problem was whether or not Malcolm returned Trip's feelings. Given Hoshi's obvious joy over the match, Jon rather suspected he did. He'd have to grill the ensign about that later.

Jon stopped at Trip's door and entered his override code. "All right, gentlemen. In you go."

They didn't move. "I don't understand why we have t' share quarters. Wouldn't it be easier to get a divorce if we slept apart?"

Jon sighed. "Trip, I already told you. You can't get a divorce. And you can't sleep in separate quarters. Trust me on this. You wouldn't want to."

"I beg to differ," Malcolm replied tartly.

"In."

Trip set his jaw. "No."

"You don't think you have to share quarters, Trip?"

"No."

Jon turned to Malcolm. "Is he ever right?"

Malcolm smirked. "Absolutely not."

"Thank you for agreeing with me, Malcolm."

"What?"

"You just agreed. Trip's wrong. Therefore you do have to share quarters." Malcolm looked liked he was about to speak when Jon raised an eyebrow. "You're not going to say you lied, are you? Because that would mean Trip's

always right." Malcolm averted his eyes, mumbling curses under breath. "I'm sorry. I didn't hear that. Could you speak up?"

"No, sir. I didn't lie."

"Good. In you go."

Both men scowled as they entered the room.

"Good night, boys. Sleep well. Now don't wear each other out tonight. You do have to work tomorrow." They glared at him. "Although, you know, I might consider giving you two some time off for a honeymoon ... No? All right then,

see you tomorrow." Jon winked at the scowling men and closed the door.

Jon smiled, mentally patting himself on the back. He'd managed to get them into the same quarters and he'd actually managed to trick Malcolm. Of course, Malcolm obviously hadn't been thinking clearly at the time, but that was a

minor point. He pressed in a code to lock the door, figuring one of the men was bound to try to escape the minute he left.

He cocked his head as he heard the rumble of raised voices coming from the room. Jon pressed his ear to the door to listen to the argument that had quickly sprung up behind the closed door.

"Damn it, the door's locked," Trip growled.

"Of course it's locked. The captain isn't likely to expect us to just stay put."

Jon grinned. Yep, did he know his men or what?

"Well, he could have at least trusted us."

Jon shook his head. He wasn't a fool.

"The captain's not a fool..."

Jon nodded, pleased that Malcolm had finally admitted it.

"Even if he does act like it sometimes."

Jon scowled. *Hey! Uncalled for!*

"Can't ya use some security thing to get it open?"

"Security thing?"

"Some sorta code or device or somethin'."

"Yes, I carry lock picks with me on a regular basis just in case I find myself married to odd members of the crew and need to force my way out of a locked room."

"No need t' get snarky."

"Well, if you're so keen to get me out of here, why don't you open the door?"

"Me?"

"Yes, you. You are the Chief Engineer, after all."

Trip lifted an eyebrow. "How?"

"What, you don't have a toolbox? I would have sworn you slept with one under your pillow."

"Yeah, well some of us like to do something other than work when we get off duty."

"Really? Like who? No one in this room matches that description. Unless you consider fucking random alien women to be an acceptable hobby."

Jon's eyes widened and he listened intently at the door. Silence. Complete and utter silence. Who'd been killed? He pressed the comm to the room.

"Oh, I almost forgot to mention this. I expect you to be civil to one another." He thought he heard Malcolm mutter something like `fat chance.' "That's an order. Did you hear that? Malcolm? Trip?"

"Yes, sir."

Trip glared at Malcolm after the comm went dead.

Malcolm glared back. "So what are the sleeping arrangements for tonight?"

"What do ya think they're gonna be? You sleep on the floor; I get the bed."

"Oh, really? Well, as I see it, since this is your fault, you should have to sleep on the floor."

"It's my bed," Trip replied belligerently.

"And you're an idiot."

"Am not."

"Someone who was intelligent would have realized what was going on."

"You didn't."

"I never saw how you got to the marketplace. Hoshi said it was a simple ceremony. I took her at her word as a linguist since I had nothing else on which to base my assumptions. You, on the other hand, should have known

better."

"And yer the armory officer. Yer supposed to look out for danger."

"I don't look out for marriage threats on a regular basis. Besides, given how often you get yourself into trouble, you'd probably be more qualified." Trip's nostrils flared. "Yeah, well, yer supposed to protect me. Therefore

it's your fault."

"It's my fault you're a moron?"

Jon chortled, putting a hand over his mouth to muffle the sound. Ensign Carmichael rounded the corner, and Jon drew back suddenly, hands behind his back.

"Evening, Ensign."

Carmichael gave him an odd look. "Evening, sir."

Jon waited until she rounded the corner before pressing his ear to the door again.

"So what're ya gonna do if I don't give ya my bed?"

"Put you in traction."

Trip grew silent. "We'll share the bed. But just make sure ya stay on yer own side."

"Fine."

The men finally stopped talking, taking seats on opposite sides of the room alternating between ignoring one another and glaring.

Jon practically skipped to the bridge. It seemed that the boys were going ton eed help to make their relationship work. He was more than happy to oblige.

Trip's and Malcolm's heads came up as the comm sounded. "This is Captain Archer. I have an announcement to make."

They looked at each other in horror. "He wouldn't," Malcolm gasped.

"Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed were..."

"He would," Trip groaned.

"…joined in the bonds of holy matrimony this afternoon. I'm sure you're all as pleased as I am over this happy news. And since I know this is the case, I have talked to Chef and there will be a reception..."

Trip and Malcolm both scrambled for the comm, getting in each other's way while they tried to get through to the captain and put a stop to his speech.

"…in the mess tomorrow at fourteen hundred hours. Now I expect you all to be there to wish those two lovebirds joy in their marriage. Archer out."

Malcolm and Trip stopped moving, staring at the now silent comm. "He called us lovebirds."

Malcolm nodded mutely.

"Mal, what's the punishment fer killin' the captain?"

"I don't know but I'm sure it would be worth it."

They agreed for the first time that day.

Malcolm wrapped his arm tighter around the warm body sprawled across him. His right hand was linked with the other man's, and his wrist felt warm and tingly; he felt content. His eyes suddenly flew open, and he stared down at
the sleeping form. It was Trip. His husband.

Malcolm bit back a groan, trying to work his hand and body loose from Trip's firm grip. He had to get out of here. He couldn't face Trip again.

Malcolm finally managed to slip free and padded softly to the door. It was still locked; the captain must not have bothered to release them yet. Malcolm stilled as Trip rolled over onto his back and flung an arm across his eyes.

Malcolm breathed again and rushed into the bathroom, closing the door silently behind him.

He walked over to the sink and stared at his reflection in the mirror. His face was pale and dark circles were beginning to form beneath his eyes. This was going to be hell, he thought.

Malcolm closed his eyes and admitted to himself that that wasn't entirely true. The thought of being married to Trip was actually . . . pleasant. He'd had fantasies about it, in fact. But in his fantasies, Trip had always been madly in
love with him, as madly in love as Malcolm was with Trip. Malcolm wasn't angry because they'd gotten married, he was angry because Trip clearly hated the thought and wanted nothing to do with him.

The door to the bathroom slid open, and Malcolm swung around to look at his "husband."

"So yer still here," Trip growled.

"Rather hard to leave when the door's locked," he replied crisply.

Trip grunted and spun on his heel. "Suppose you can have the bathroom first, then. Just don't take too long." The door slid shut again.

Malcolm shook his head. It was going to be a very long day.

***

Malcolm stood in the middle of the mess, between the captain and his "husband," trying to figure out the best possible escape route. Unfortunately, his plan to escape was proving somewhat difficult. First, if he did try to leave,
Archer and Trip would both try to stop him. Archer because the blasted man was a sadist and wanted nothing better than to make Malcolm miserable, and Trip because if he had to stay, so did Malcolm. There was no way Malcolm
was going to take Trip with him, either. The damned man had gotten them into this; as far as Malcolm was concerned, Trip deserved to suffer.

Second, all of the members of the crew had at some point gone completely insane. They all felt the need to congratulate their superior officers on their nuptials, and even if Malcolm did manage to escape the captain's clutches, there was no way he'd be able to make it to the door without being waylaid by some demented well-wisher.

So here he was, ignoring the man he'd married and trying his best not to look as miserable as he felt. Even the pineapple sorbet chef had made especially for him was not worth the torture he was being forced to endure.

He was currently trying to discreetly check out other possible means of escape, the captain's mess, the kitchen, an airlock, when he suddenly found himself smothered in a hearty embrace.

"Congratulations guys! Man, it's just too bad you can't have children. Then it would be just like home." These comments were followed by club-like hands pounding against Malcolm's back and python-like squeezing.

Malcolm's eyes widened in horror. "Travis, can't breathe. Let go," Malcolm managed to force out. Travis suddenly released him, and Malcolm took in a deep breath. He glared at Trip who was busy snickering and making no attempt to hide it.

Malcolm smirked slightly when Travis immediately directed his attention to Trip and embraced him as well. Malcolm snorted at the sight of Trip's arms flailing as he tried to break free.

Travis released the man and grinning at both of them, turned and left, walking in the direction of the buffet table.

Malcolm clutched his side and turned towards Archer. "Captain, my ribs are feeling pretty bruised. They may even be broken. If you'll excuse me, I'm just going to make a quick trip to Sickbay." He turned to walk in the direction of the main doors when Jon grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

"Nonsense, Malcolm. Phlox is at the party. I can just call him over and he can take a look at those bruised ribs of yours."

Malcolm's face fell but he gathered himself together quickly. "No. No, I think I really should get them scanned. I'll just go down to Sickbay and have whoever's on duty take a look. Then maybe I should just get some rest."

"Yeah, that sounds like a good idea." Malcolm's head spun in Trip's direction.

"Why don't I just escort him there, Cap'n? Could be somethin' serious. He probably could use some of that bed rest as well."

Jon raised an eyebrow and considered them. "Unless this bed rest involves tangled sheets and two sweaty bodies, you're not going anywhere. So which is it? Hot monkey sex or socializing in the mess?" Trip turned bright red while
Malcolm stood stiffly, staring straight ahead. "Well?"

"Guess we wouldn't want to cut the party short. Wouldn't want to ruin it for everyone," Trip muttered.

Jon sighed. "Wrong answer, but I guess it'll have to do."

Several silent minutes had passed when Malcolm noticed out of the corner of his eye another round of well-wishers looking in their direction.

"If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go try that sorbet," Malcolm grumbled as he walked off. If he couldn't escape, he might as well fill his mouth so he wouldn't have to talk to anyone.

***

Malcolm stalked down the corridors near his quarters later that afternoon.

"Bloody fools, every one of them," he muttered. " `I always liked the thought of two people being two halves of one whole.' Who the hell would want to be half of *that*?" As the corridors were empty, no one commented.

" `You two have such wonderful chemistry. It's explosive.'" Malcolm snorted
.
"The only thing explosive on this ship are my weapons and maybe my temper." He stopped and glared at the empty corridor in front of him. "We do not have chemistry. Of course, one of us wouldn't know a good thing if it came up and bit him in the ass." Malcolm started walking again, he clenched his jaw and rounded the corner. He stepped up to the door, hand raised to press in the code when he noticed a lock in the center of his door. His mouth dropped open and he stared in shock.

A hand suddenly came down on his shoulder. He reacted instantly, jabbing his elbow into his attacker's gut and snapping his fist up, connecting with the person's perfect Roman nose. He spun around to face his assailant only to
find the captain slumped against the wall, blood pouring down his face. Malcolm's face paled. "Oh, shit."

Jon grunted, eyes crossing from the pain. He finally looked up and glared at his lieutenant. "What did you have to go and do that for?"

"You startled me," Malcolm replied weakly.

Jon pressed his lips together and straightened up, pressing one hand over his broken nose and clamping the other back down on Malcolm's shoulder, pushing him down the hall. "Malcolm, that's not your room anymore. I had your things moved to Trip's quarters this afternoon during the party."

"But—"

"Just shut-up, will you? I'd rather not have to talk at the moment."

Malcolm clamped his mouth shut, glancing back at the captain. The man was clearly in considerable pain and none too pleased at the moment. *Well of course he isn't pleased, you idiot. You just broke his God damned nose.*

On their way to Trip's quarters, they passed Travis, whose eyes widened and mouth dropped open.

"What—"

"Not now, Ensign," Jon ordered, never slowing his stride.

Jon pushed Malcolm in front of Trip's door and pressed the comm. "Yeah?"

"It's the captain, Trip. Open the door."

It flew open. "Cap'n, what's all this damned stuff—" His words were cut short as Jon thrust Malcolm into Trip's chest. Both men stumbled back, wrapping their arms around each other in an attempt to maintain their balance.

Trip `s mouth dropped open as he took in the captain's visage. "What the hell happened to you?"

"Ask your husband. He's got incredible reflexes. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go to Sickbay and pass out."

After the door had closed and locked, Trip let Malcolm go and stared at him in shock. "Mal, what the hell happened?"

"I don't want to talk about it," he replied through gritted teeth.

"But—"

"No." Trip snapped his mouth shut at Malcolm's firm tone. "I'm taking a shower." Malcolm spun on his heel and shut the bathroom door, leaving Trip staring numbly behind him.

***

Trip stepped into the Captain's mess the next morning and stared at Jon, who now resembled a raccoon. "Well, that'll teach ya to stick yer nose where it don't belong." Jon looked up and glared.

Trip sauntered over and pulled out the chair adjacent to his friend and sat down. "Don't give me that look. Doesn't look nearly as impressive with two black eyes and a giant piece of plaster coverin' yer face."

"Malcolm told you what happened, then?"

"No. Isn't tellin' me anythin'. Got up early and went to the armory before I woke up.

"No, I heard it from Travis. And Hoshi. And Hess. And—"

Jon held up a hand. "I get the point."

Trip folded his arms across his chest. "Seems Travis saw you walkin' down the hall last night. Put two and two together, and now the entire crew knows. Course what they know probably isn't based on reality, but that's how it goes."

Jon glared. "Damn it, Trip, what the hell are you talking about?"

"J'st that there are a lot of variations on how ya broke yer nose."

"What kind of variations?"

"Well, some people seem to think Malcolm broke it cause ya startled him. Figure he was probably thinkin' of me, and you just happened t' surprise him while he was distracted."

Archer let out a sigh of relief. "That's not so bad. Pretty close to the truth, I guess."

Trip grinned. "But that's no fun, is it?"

"Fun?"

"Other members of the crew think you wanted to make him work an extra shift
.
He broke yer nose cause he'd planned on spendin' the time with me."

"But—"

"It gets better. Other people think you made a pass at me, and Malcolm decked ya out of jealousy. Or ya made a pass at him. Either way, yer not lookin' real good, Cap'n."

"But I'm the one who got my nose broken," Jon sputtered.

"Yeah, and I'm sure ya deserved it, too. Like I said, you should know better than to stick yer nose where it don't belong." Trip leaned in closer. "Let me put it this way, Cap'n. You've been my friend for a long time, but I'd appreciate it if you'd just butt out and mind yer own business."

Jon pressed his fingers lightly to the plaster covering his nose. "Don't worry, I intend to." He directed his attention back to his food, hoping the conversation was now finished.

"Oh, and one more thing, Cap'n."

"What?" Jon snarled.

"Apologize to Malcolm."

"What?!!"

"He's feelin' pretty awful about breakin' yer nose. You should apologize for startlin' him."

"But I'm the one who got hurt." Trip glared. Jon clenched his jaw. "How the hell would you know he's feeling awful? You just said you're not talking to each other."

"Come on, Cap'n, this is Malcolm we're talkin' about. Doesn't take a genius to figure out he's probably feelin' guilty as hell. You have any idea what it's like livin' with Malcolm Reed when somethin's botherin' him? I'd j'st as soon not
find out ... well, more than I already am."

"Fine." Jon grunted. "I'll do it after breakfast." Trip nodded and dug into the food in front of him with gusto, making it quite clear the conversation was at an end.

Yes, from now on, he was definitely keeping his nose out of other peoples' business, Jon thought.

***

Jon sat in his chair on the bridge three days later, tapping his fingers rapidly on the armrest, ignoring the irritated looks coming from T'Pol. He glanced over to where his lieutenant was fiddling with something on his console, he
then looked over to where Trip was sitting at the engineering console. He was so used to seeing Trip standing behind Malcolm while on the bridge that it seemed odd to him that the man would actually use his own station. It also didn't escape his notice that both men were ignoring one another. No, the situation had clearly not improved over the last couple of days.

Archer had actually behaved himself in the three days since he'd talked to Trip. He'd gone to the armory to apologize to Malcolm, just as Trip had requested. The armory officer had tried to protest, but in the end had nodded curtly, accepting the apology with good grace. Jon had then indicated that he planned to leave Malcolm and Trip alone to figure things out for themselves, he would no longer interfere. Malcolm had then asked if this meant that he could move back to his quarters. Naturally, Jon had answered in the negative, saying that a married couple should share quarters. That wasn't butting in.

Truly, it wasn't. How were they supposed to get used to one another if they didn't spend time together? Anyone else would have done the same. So what if Malcolm and Trip didn't see it that way. They'd thank him for it one day.

And so he'd been concerned a day later when it became clear that Malcolm still wasn't coming to the mess for breakfast and going straight to the armory in the morning to avoid everyone. And that he wasn't coming to lunch, either. Or dinner. Truly, it was just captainly concern that forced him to send Hoshi down to the armory to drag Malcolm in to eat. No, that wasn't interfering. If he'd been interfering, he would have made Trip go fetch his errant husband.


Of course the fact that he knew Trip would be eating with Travis and Hoshi was a minor detail that just happened to work in his favor.

But this was getting out of hand. It had been three days - *three days*-and there hadn't been any sign of improvement in his friends' relationship. Jon straightened in his chair. Well, he was the captain, and as such, it was his duty to see to his crew's well being. As a friend he had to follow Trip's request to mind his own business, but as the captain, well as the captain, he could interfere as much as he wanted. He grinned. "T'Pol, I'd like to see you in my ready room."

Jon got up out of his chair, confidant that T'Pol would be right behind him.

When she followed him and the door closed, he turned to her. "T'Pol, what do couples do on your planet when they are first married?"

She lifted an eyebrow. "Why do you wish to know?"

"Well, it's my understanding that Vulcans have arranged marriages." T'Pol nodded. "How do couples get to know one another when they are first married?"

"They speak to one another."

"What else? How do they break the ice?"

"We have a game of logic that we play. The couple will play the game with one another, and every time one person loses a round, he or she must answer a question of his or her partner's choosing."

"That sounds like a pretty good idea."

"I'm glad you approve," she responded, dryly.

"So do you think that if I made Trip and Malcolm play chess with one another, they might be able to get to know one another better?"


***

"I can't believe the cap'n's makin' us do this." Trip glared at the chess board in front of him, watching as Malcolm captured another one of his pieces.

"You weren't exactly protesting at the time."

"Of course I wasn't. The cap'n gave us a free bottle of his finest bourbon to drink while we played. Don't really like the cap'n's interference … but hey, it's good bourbon. Figured if I had to be stuck in my quarters with ya, I might as well get drunk."

"Not a particularly flattering comment, Commander." Malcolm picked up his glass and swallowed it down. Trip stared. The man had drunk over half the bottle on his own and he was still beating Trip at the game.

Trip had known playing a game of strategy with Malcolm would be difficult, and the first couple games had certainly been embarrassing, given that Trip couldn't beat Malcolm at the game if his life depended on it and Trip was forced to answer a question of Malcolm's choosing every time he lost a piece. But since then, Trip had been doing his best to keep Malcolm's glass full, hoping that getting the armory officer plastered would at least allow Trip to capture more than a couple of pieces.

"Now, Commander, I believe it's time for another question."

"Sure. Whatever," Trip grumbled. "What do ya want t' know?"

Malcolm smiled. "So, Trip, did you really sleep with Princess Kaitama?"

"What?!"

"Just answer the question. Did you or did you not sleep with her?"

Trip turned bright red. "Mal, a gentleman doesn't kiss and tell."

Malcolm raised an eyebrow. "But I'm your husband. We're supposed to tell each other everything. I don't think that particular rule applies in this case."

"This isn't exactly a typical marriage, and I'm not gonna tell ya somethin' like that."

Malcolm sighed. "Trip … you know the rules. I win a piece; you answer a question. So?" Malcolm sounded positively gleeful.

Trip scowled. "This is a stupid game. I think from now on we should just alternate. You ask a question, and then I ask a question. No more of this stupid stuff about whoever captures a piece gets to ask a question."

"That would go against the rules. And take all the fun out of it."

"Your fun," Trip grumbled under his breath.

"Precisely." Trip glared. "Now answer the question."

"No."

"No?"

"No, I didn't sleep with her."

"Why not?"

"That's two questions."

"Fine. I'll wait."

Trip returned his attention to the board. *Ah, he'd have him this time.* Trip confidently moved his knight.

Malcolm made a tsking noise as he captured said knight.

"How the hell do ya keep doin' that?"

"Doing what?" Malcolm asked calmly.

"Yer drunk for Christ's sake. I've been doin' my best to keep ya that way. Ishould be winning!"

"Really?" His tone suggested he'd figured out Trip's plan long ago.

"Yeah."

"I think it's only fair to tell you, then, that getting me drunk won't do you a bit of good."

"Why?"

"Because I've been playing chess with my Aunt Sheryl all my life. The day I turned twenty-one she decided to get me plastered to improve her odds. Beat her in five minutes flat. She's been trying to do the same ever since and she was the captain of her chess team in college."

"Great. Just great. Sure we couldn't switch games then? Maybe whoever can put somethin' together the fastest gets to ask a question?"

Malcolm smiled evilly. "No."

"Why not?" Trip responded, petulantly.

"Because the door's locked and there's nothing to take apart in here.

Besides I have no doubt I could keep up with you."

"I'm the engineer."

"And what do you think I am? I just have a different area of expertise.

Now, I believe you have to answer another question…"

***

Jon entered engineering the next day and walked straight to where Trip was standing on the warp core platform.

"Can I do somethin' for ya, Cap'n?"

"Just stopped by to say hi."

"Hi? Uh-huh. Why don't ya just spit it out?"

Well, no sense in beating around the bush. "How did it go last night?"

"You ever play chess with Malcolm?"

"No."

"Don't. Ya can't win. That man could beat a Vulcan at chess...blindfolded." Jon raised an eyebrow, but Trip continued. "No matter what ya do, he'll always be one step ahead of ya. I tried gettin' him drunk to improve my odds. Know what happened then?"

"What?"

"Just made him bolder. He was still beatin' me, only then, instead of askin' me normal stuff like `What's yer favorite color?' or `Who was yer favorite teacher in school?' he asks stuff like, `Did ya have sex with that Princess?', `Ever have a relationship with a man before?', `When was the first time ya got fucked?' "

"He asked that?"

"Well, he was a bit more polite about it… but Cap'n, that was embarrisin!'"

"Would you have asked the same thing if given the chance?"

"Hell, yeah! But I never got the chance! I only won a piece when he was trying to distract me or somethin'. For every piece I won, he won five...or more.

Playing chess was a dumb idea, Cap'n."

"I'll be sure to tell T'Pol you thought so."

"T'Pol?"

"Her idea."

"Oh."

Jon smiled slightly. "I'll see you later, Trip."

One week later:

Trip was lounging back in bed in his sweats reading a report when Malcolm walked into the room, dressed in his workout gear and covered with sweat. He glanced around the room, noticing empty plates covering almost every surface and Trip's uniform on the ground where he'd clearly thrown it before taking his shower after his shift.

"Trip?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you going to clean this up?"

"Clean what up?" Trip didn't look up from the PADD.

"Your clothes. These plates. That stack of PADDs you put on my desk." He glanced into the bathroom. "The towel you threw on the floor after you showered."

"Give it a rest, will ya?"

"Pardon?"

"Just drop it."

Malcolm's nostrils flared. "Clean. It. Up."

Trip finally looked up. "No."

Malcolm had had a difficult day. The weapons had gone offline and three of the phase pistols had been having problems. What was more, he was married to a Neanderthal. He didn't need to deal with this.

"Trip. You have three seconds to get off your lazy arse before I come over there and make you."

"I'd like to see you try." Trip returned his attention to his PADD.

Malcolm raised an eyebrow at this comment and began to count. "One." Silence.

"Two." Trip didn't stir.

"Three." Malcolm grinned menacingly and moved swiftly over to where Trip lay and had him pinned against the wall before he knew what hit him.

Trip found himself looking down into Malcolm's face, Malcolm's forearm pressed against his throat.

"Listen, *Commander*, we have to share these quarters – Captain's orders, and I will not allow you to turn my living environment into a sty. You *will* clean up after yourself. I've been putting up with your mess for weeks. Well, not anymore. From now on it's going to be clean. Do you understand?"

"It's my room," Trip grumbled.

Malcolm shoved him against the wall again. Trip tried to break free but Malcolm's hold was too strong. "Haven't you ever had a roommate, Yank?"

"Yeah. They just weren't so anal-retentive."

"More's the pity. Maybe they could have taught you how to live like a man instead of a pig. Now, are you going to clean this up or not?" His tone clearly indicating that Trip better agree if he knew what was good for him.

The two men fought a battle of wills for several seconds before Trip looked away under Malcolm's intimidating gaze. "I suppose I could clean it this once."

"It better be more than once."

Malcolm let Trip down and watched as he tidied the room. "Try to keep it this way in the future."

"Why?" Trip challenged.

"Because if you don't, you'll see why Captain Archer picked me to be his armory officer over every other officer in Starfleet."

Trip gulped as Malcolm stepped into the bathroom to take a shower.

***

Two weeks later:

Jon stepped into engineering and walked towards Trip's office. He stepped into the doorway, and his mouth about dropped to the floor. "Trip! What are you doing?"

Trip looked up from the set of PADDs he was stacking up neatly. "Organizin'," he said cheerfully.

"Organizing?"

"Place was a mess. I was havin' trouble findin' stuff. Thought it might be easier to get some work done in here if everythin' was put away neatly."

"Trip, are you feeling all right?"

"What? Oh, I'm fine. Just, ya know, everythin' has it's place. No point leavin' it lying about where it could get lost or broken or somethin'."

Jon stared. "When did you come to that conclusion?"

"I don't know."

"You know, that sounds a bit like something Malcolm would say."

"No, it isn't." Then Trip's hands stilled in their cleaning, and he met his friend's eyes. He groaned as he sank down in his chair, resting his forehead on the desk and rocking it back and forth.

"Trip?"

"Yeah?" Was the muffled reply.

"You're whipped."

"I know."

***

Trip stalked into his quarters later that evening. "This has gotta end."

Malcolm looked up from his computer. "What has to end?"

"This." Trip gestured to the room as a whole.

Malcolm raised an eyebrow. "I think you're going to have to be more specific."

Trip strode over to where his husband was sitting at the desk and placed his hands on hips, glaring down at the other man.

"Ya know what I did today?

Malcolm leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, a blank expression on his face. "No. What?"

"I organized my office."

"Oh my God. The world as we know it has come to an end. Did hell freeze over, do you think?"

"Oh, shut-up."

"So what is it, precisely, that has to end?"

"Our marriage."

Malcolm remained silent for several seconds, his features betraying none of his thoughts. "Pardon?"

"The cap'n's being ridiculous. There's no reason why we have to share quarters. No reason why we have to stay together just because of some dumb alien ritual. Tomorrow we'll go down to your quarters and get that damned lock off the door. Together we shouldn't have any trouble."

"You haven't seen those locks."

"Fine. Then we'll ask Phlox to take these tattoos off and we can consider ourselves divorced. Shouldn't be that hard."

"I'm not sure it works that way. Anyway, do you really think the captain will let that happen?"

Trip squared his jaw. "We won't give him a choice. He has no right to force us into a marriage we don't want. Just because we have these dumb *y'io* things on our wrists doesn't mean anythin'. It's an alien symbol. No one Earth would recognize it, anyway."

Malcolm nodded slowly. "If that's what you want…"

"Of course it's what I want. Isn't it what you want?" Malcolm nodded curtly. "Well then, that's settled. I'll sleep on the floor tonight; you can have the bed. No reason to share if we don't have to."

"Very generous of you."

"Yeah, well, it's just for one night."

Trip turned over on his side, trying to find a comfortable spot on the floor. He felt restless; no matter how he turned or twisted, he just couldn't get comfortable. He was tired. All he wanted to do was sleep … but he couldn't.

He sighed loudly. It was going to be a really long night.

"Mal?"

A few moments of silence, then, "Yes?"

"You still awake?"

"Obviously."

Trip remained silent for several minutes before speaking again. "Why can't you sleep?"

"I don't know. I just feel … restless."

"Yeah. Me, too."

Trip stared into the dark for several more minutes.

"Trip?"

"Yeah?"

"Why don't you get into bed?"

"Huh?"

"Neither one of seems to be able to sleep. We might as well both be comfortable."

Trip slowly sat up. "Are you sure?"

Malcolm sighed. "Just get into bed before I change my mind."

Trip climbed under the covers, trying to stay close to the edge. Within minutes, both he and Malcolm were asleep. In his sleep, Trip instinctively moved towards his husband, snuggling into his warmth. Their hands joined in the dark, and both men relaxed as the *y'io* connected, finding in rest a contentment they could not find while they were awake.

***

"What do ya mean you can't remove them?!" Trip stared at Phlox with a thunderstruck expression on his face.

"Really, doctor, removing tattoos is hardly difficult," Malcolm stated.

"Gentlemen, I can't."

"Why not?" Trip asked through gritted teeth.

"It wouldn't be right."

"Right?"

"All newlyweds have squabbles. I know it must be difficult for you, but you must ride through this. You are joined in matrimony. You love one another.

Don't let a petty fight stand between you."

"But I don't want to be married to him!" Trip jabbed a finger in Malcolm's direction. "I never wanted to be married to `im!"

Phlox's face darkened. "Commander, please calm down. You know you'll regret what you're saying later."

"But—" Trip sputtered.

"Ah, ah, ah. No harsh comments, Commander. I will not be a part of this. Now if you want counseling, I would be happy to offer my services. However, I really think you should just talk; it is often the best remedy. Followed by a little … connubial bliss." Phlox grinned and Trip took a step back. The doctor then looked over at Malcolm. "Come now, Commander. I happen to know the lieutenant is a very strong and handsome young man. You can't tell me you don't enjoy wearing him out in the privacy of your bed?"

"Doctor, we want your help here. Just remove the damn things and be done with it," Trip said fiercely.

Phlox sighed. "I can't."

"Yes, you can.

"No, honestly, I can't. Even if I wanted to."

"What do you mean, Doctor?" Malcolm asked quietly.

"Those symbols on your wrists aren't tattoos. They have integrated themselves into your DNA."

"What?!"

"Removing them would be impossible, and if I tried, it would most likely kill both of you."

"Why the hell would they have become part of our DNA?"

"The captain didn't tell you?" Phlox asked in wide-eyed astonishment.

"Tell us what?" Malcolm asked.

"They have connected you. You share an empathic bond when you touch, most strongly felt when you connect the circles."

"That's it? We share an empathic bond?" Phlox nodded. "Then we just have to make sure we don't touch, if at all possible.

"Commander, since you are connected, you must not be separated if at all possible."

"Or?"

"Or you will feel restless. Incomplete."

"Trust me, I'll feel fine."

"No, you won't. You will be unable to sleep. Unable to eat. You need one another to survive."

"So that's why the captain made us share quarters?" Malcolm asked.

Phlox nodded.

"Anythin' else we need to know about?" Trip snarled.

Phlox thought for a moment. "I would suggest you stay away from … attractive women or men."

"Pardon?"

"The *y'io*, as the captain called it, will notice if someone shows a sexual interest in either of you. Because of the nature of the bond, it will recognize its mate but will grow agitated if it detects high pheromone levels other than that of its partner."

"Agitated?"

"The *y'io* apparently doesn't allow infidelity. If it detects anything, the result would be most … unpleasant."

"Great."

"So you see gentleman, you are bonded. You must work out your differences and make up. It wouldn't really be worth giving up all that passion anyway, would it?"

Neither men bothered to answer that question as they thanked Phlox and left Sickbay.

*

Trip and Malcolm entered the mess a few minutes later in silence and headed towards the food. Trip instantly grabbed a piece of pecan pie.

"Do you really think you need that much sugar this early in the day?" Malcolm asked in a caustic tone of voice.

Trip whirled on his husband. "This here is what I like to call *comfort* food. But you wouldn't know about that would you?"

"What do you mean by that?"

"You're such a cold bastard, I bet you don't know the meaning of the word *comfort *…or love, even." Someone behind Trip gasped but he ignored the silence that had come over the mess.

"Cold? Because I make a point of controlling my emotions, you think I'm incapable of loving anyone?"

"Yeah, I do."

Malcolm's lips thinned. "Well, better that than *loving* anything that expresses an interest. So all those alien bimbos you've fucked, I suppose you just needed to be *comforted*? Seems you don't have any problem loving anything and everyone. Everyone but your *husband* that is."

"Who'd want to love you?"

Malcolm paled and then spun around and exited the mess, refusing to meet the concerned gazes of his crewmates.

Trip sighed and turned around to walk towards a table with his pie, and found everyone in the mess staring at him. He watched as Travis and Hoshi walked swiftly towards him. Travis grabbed the pie out of Trip's hands and then the two took a hold of Trip's elbows and propelled him towards a back table.

"What the hell… "

"Shut-up, Trip. We need to talk." Trip snapped his mouth shut at Hoshi's firm tone.

He sat in the chair Travis indicated and his two friends sat on either side of him.

"That was mean, Trip."

"Huh?"

Hoshi glared at him. "What you said to Malcolm. It was cruel. You know what his life has been like. He isn't incapable of love and you know it. If he isn't showing it, then it's your fault for not making him feel comfortable enough to tell you how he feels."

"But he doesn't love me. And I don't love him."

"Of course, you love each other. You're married, aren't you?" Travis said.

"Travis, it doesn't exactly work that way."

"Sure it does. Everyone knew about you two. It was obvious how infatuated you were with each other."

"We were not infatuated. We got married because of a misunderstanding."

"Whatever," Hoshi said, her tone indicating she didn't buy it for a second.
.
"Listen Trip, you need to go and apologize. You can fight this marriage or you can accept it. I'm pretty sure you'd be a lot happier if you did the latter."

"I don't want to apologize. I shouldn't have to. He started it."

"You know, that sounds a bit like something my brother once said," Travis commented. "Of course, he was five at the time."

Trip glared.

"Trip, just go and track Malcolm down. Tell him you're a moron and apologize. You'll feel a lot better afterwards."

Trip clenched his jaw and got up. Travis moved to stop him, but Hoshi stilled him. They watched as Trip stalked out of the mess.

"Why'd you stop me? I don't think he's going to apologize."

"Oh, he will. Everyone on the ship will pester him until he does. And if they don't, the captain will."

*

Trip strolled into engineering only to be cornered by Lieutenant Hess. "Sir, there's something that needs your attention."

"What?" Trip looked worried.

"Your husband."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I just got a message from a friend of mine who works in the armory."

Trip panicked. "Is he hurt?"

"Yes."

"What happened?!" He demanded.

"You acted like a complete ass."

Trip stilled. "Pardon?"

"He's in one of the Jefferies tubes. Go and apologize to him. We can handle everything until you get back."

"No."

"Now, sir, don't make me call the captain. I'm pretty sure you don't want him to know about this little incident."

"Oh, hell. Why can't everyone just leave us alone?"

"It's a small ship."

Trip spun around and left engineering. Hess went over to one of the comms.

"Hess to Palmer."

"Palmer here."

"I just sent the commander down to the armory. Let me know if he doesn't show up in the next five minutes."

"Don't worry, we'll send some guys after him if he doesn't."

"And I'll call the captain."

"By the way…"

"Yes, Julie?" Hess asked.

"Should we rough him up a bit when he gets here?"

"What?!"

"Well, it's not like he doesn't deserve it. You know what he said to Lieutenant Reed.

"Julie, just make sure he gets there and apologizes."

"But if we rough him up a bit, then Lieutenant Reed can get all concerned and comfort him.

"Two words for you. Court. Martial."

"It would be entirely justified."

"Don't hurt him. Lieutenant Reed would not be amused."

Julie grimaced. "Right. Rule number one: Don't piss off the boss."

"Just see you remember that."

"Don't worry, I will."

Hess chuckled. "Hess out."

*

Trip entered the armory a few minutes later. He looked over at Palmer, who was working at one of the consoles. "Ensign, where's Lieutenant Reed?"

"In the Jefferies tube."

Trip nodded and headed over to the ladder.

He crawled into the narrow tube and began to look for Malcolm.

He couldn't believe he was doing this. Why should he apologize? Malcolm had started the fight. It was not like they loved each other or anything. Why should Malcolm be upset? All he'd said was…

Trip's eyes widened and he paled. "Oh, shit." He hadn't said that. He couldn't have said that. Not to Malcolm. Not to a man who had been burned so badly.

Okay … maybe he did need to apologize.

He found Malcolm a few minutes later fixing a few faulty wires. Trip grimaced; how was he supposed to have a meaningful conversation when he couldn't even stand up?

"What are you doing here, Commander?" Malcolm asked without a trace of emotion.

"I've been sent to apologize." Trip groaned. "I mean, I came to apologize."

"Oh, really? Well then, you can tell whomever sent you that you apologized."

"No, they wouldn't believe …" Trip closed his eyes again. *What was with him? Couldn't he even apologize without ruining everything?*

"I mean, I really need to know that you forgive me."

"Why should I forgive you?"

Trip's mouth fell open. "Why wouldn't you?"

"Because you're an insensitive prick."

"Now wait a minute," Trip started to shout then stopped, taking a deep breath to calm himself. "Okay, maybe that's true. I realize I've shoved my foot so far into my mouth it's starting come out my ass, but that's no reason you have to get all huffy."

"Huffy?" Malcolm's face darkened further.

"Yeah, huffy," Trip challenged.

Malcolm leaned close to Trip and stated softly and firmly. "Why should I forgive you, Trip? As far as I know, you meant every word you said."

"No, I didn't!"

"Then why did you say it?"

"Because I was upset about findin' out we couldn't divorce. I didn't mean anythin' by it."

"You knew we couldn't divorce. The captain has made that quite clear. No, you said it because you meant it. Because you're an insensitive prick."

Trip leaned further forward, so their noses were almost touching. "Stop callin' me that. I'm not insensitive."

"What else would you call it? I'm not incapable of love, Trip. You know that."

"Well, it's not like ya ever show it."

"Why would I show that kind of affection to you?"

"When I'm an insensitive prick?"

"Yes," Malcolm agreed crisply.

"Well maybe I was right the first time. Maybe you are incapable of love. You're tryin' to blame this on me to make yourself feel better about your lack of emotion."

"So I'm incapable of love because I don't love you? My, my aren't we arrogant. Who would have thought it? Someone who hasn't fallen madly in love with the considerable charms of Charles Tucker the Third," Malcolm snarled.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you fuck anything that's willing. You may not know this: that's not love."

"What, and you haven't? What about all those women in San Francisco?"

"Ahh, but I'm incapable of love. You, however, can't seem to understand the difference between lust and love."

"Well, I know I don't feel either for you."

"Good. Then we agree."

They glared into one another's eyes for several seconds waiting for the other to hurl another insult, or perhaps extend an apology. Neither happened. Instead, without knowing how he'd gotten there, Trip found himself pressing Malcolm's body to the bottom of the Jefferies tube, Malcolm accepting the weight passionately. Their mouths connected as they kissed frantically, feeling the need to be closer together. Malcolm tangled his fingers through Trip's hair, and the southerner groaned at the sensation of those clever fingers massaging his scalp and pulling him closer. He lowered himself down on the other man completely, so all of his weight rested on his husband's compact form. His hands drifted up to the armory officer's face, tracing those wonderfully high cheek bones with his finger tips; Malcolm's arms wrapped around his neck and pulled him in closer.

Trip tried to collect his thoughts but he was lost in the unbelievable sensation. He'd never felt anything like this. He'd never been so lost in a kiss, never wanted to be so close to another person as he wanted to be close to Malcolm Reed. Trip groaned as the other man traced his lips with his tongue, he opened his mouth and their tongues battled, tasting one another. He ran his hands down to Malcolm's chest, undoing the zipper of the lieutenant's
uniform. He needed to feel his husband's warm skin beneath his own, needed to touch him everywhere. He wanted to know what would make the reserved man moan, cry out, what would send him into ecstasy.

The zipper pulled down, Trip moved his hand underneath the black turtleneck and t-shirt his husband wore. He moaned as he felt the muscles ripple beneath his hands. Malcolm moved to unzip Trip's uniform as well, and before long, he was exploring Trip's chest just as diligently, his fingers moving skillfully underneath Trip's tank top.

Trip was overwhelmed with sensation; all sensible thought had fled. He had one goal in mind and that was to strip his husband and make love to him right here in the Jeffries tube.

Trip removed his hands from underneath Malcolm's shirt and moved them to his husband's shoulders, trying to work the uniform loose. He felt Malcolm move up to allow him to slip off the uniform part way, until his arms were free and the top of the uniform was tangled around his waist. The minute his hands were free, Malcolm instantly began to touch Trip again. Running his hands up and down Trip's chest and finally going lower to stroke Trip's hard length.

The engineer shuddered. He'd never felt anything like this. Never wanted anyone this badly. Damn it felt good…

Trip jerked back and scrambled away from his husband, both men breathing heavily.

He couldn't believe what he been about to do to…with Malcolm. "Uh, right,"

Trip stammered, trying desperately to form a coherent thought. "Anyway, that was all I wanted to say. I'll see ya at dinner"

Trip flipped around quickly, not bothering to fix his uniform until he was out of sight. He never saw the devastated expression that crossed his husband's face.

Three Weeks Later:

Trip dragged his feet as he trudged down the corridors to his quarters. He opened the door and was stunned at the sight that greeted him.

"Ooooh, Malcolm stop. It's just so lewd!"

Trip's jaw dropped when he saw the way Malcolm had inserted the baby dill pickle into his mouth and was slowly sucking the vinegar off with relish.

His husband extracted the pickle and waggled his eyebrows at Hoshi. "It's the only way to get all the brine off." He then looked at the pickle juice covering fingers and slowly began to lick them off.

Hoshi stared in wonder. "God you have a clever tongue." She tilted her head and looked up at Trip. "Doesn't he have a clever tongue?"

Trip's mouth opened and closed like a fish before he sputtered, "What the hell's going on?"

Hoshi stared. "Isn't it obvious?" She giggled.

Trip stared at her. "Are you drunk?" She nodded enthusiastically. "Why?"

She crooked her finger at him and he drew nearer. "We found the last jar of baby dill's in the back of the pantry while we were cooking. Chef had been hording them. We stole them," she said conspiratorially.

"Cooking? Stealing? Pickles?!"

"What? Are you telling me you wouldn't have stolen the last jar of pickles?"

"No! Not from Chef!"

"Trip, you're no fun," she pouted.

"We have an understanding with Chef," Malcolm commented.

Trip glared at his husband. "What kind'a understandin'?"

"We like to cook. He likes to cook. He's a mean bastard. He thinks I'm a mean bastard. It all works out very well. Our understanding is that we can have anything that we can get out of the kitchen without his knowledge. So we stole the pickles." Malcolm suddenly grinned. "And a couple of Guinesses."

Hoshi looked up at Trip sweetly. "We brought one back for you."

"A pickle?" Trip asked, a little dazed.

"No. A beer." Malcolm reached over and grabbed a bottle, handing it to his husband.

"Uh … thanks." By this point Trip was completely confused and opened the bottle, taking a large swig to give himself some time to gather his wits.

Unfortunately, by the time he lowered the beer, Malcolm had grabbed another pickle and inserted it into his mouth.

Hoshi sighed as she watched. "Does that work on man?" Malcolm blinked a couple of times and stared at her. "Why am I asking you? Trip, what do you think of how he does that?"

"Does what?"

"Sucks off the pickle. Would it be effective on a man?"

"How the hell should I know?!"

"Well, you *are* married to him."

"He's my roommate."

Hoshi's nose wrinkled and she peered up at him. "Your roommate? Trip, sweetie, I think you're a little confused. I think you've had too much to drink."

Malcolm cleared his throat. "Come on, Hosh. I think it's time to get you home."

"Why?"

"Two Guinesses was one too many." Malcolm guided her to the door. "I'll be back in a couple of minutes, Trip."

Trip watched as the two staggered out the door, Malcolm only slightly more steady then the ensign. Trip decided he'd take a shower while Malcolm was out. A cold shower. A *very* cold shower… it had been a very warm day in engineering, after all.

*

Twenty minutes later, after Malcolm had managed to strip Hoshi down to her blues and get her into bed, he punched the code to the quarters he shared with his husband. When he entered, Trip was standing in the middle of the room in a pair of sweat pants and t-shirt, staring down at a PADD.

Malcolm walked over to his desk and slumped down in his chair, head resting on the back. He closed his eyes and the music Trip was playing started to sink in.

Interesting beat. It wasn't Beethoven's 5th or Holst's *Mars, Bringer of War*, but he could get used to it. Then the lyrics began to get through to his inebriated mind.

*You make it hard, you make it hard on me
You make it hard, you make it hard on me
Well I told myself I don't need the complications
Then I kissed your lips and what a sweet sensation
You make it hard, you make it hard on me.*

"Trip?"

"Yeah?"

"What are we listening to?"

"'You Make It Hard' by the Iguanas. They're a group from the 20th century."

"Don't you think they're a bit … lewd?"

Trip's head came up. "What do ya mean?"

"Well, listen."

*I was the king of huggin' and kissin'
'Til you showed me what I'd been missing yeah.
You make it hard, you make it hard on me.*

"What's lewd about it?"

"You make it hard on me?"

"What's lewd about that… Oh for Christ's sake. Get yer mind out of the gutter!"

"What? Are you telling me they aren't talking about what I think they're talking about?"

"No!" Malcolm raised an eyebrow as the lyrics repeated. Trip rolled his eyes. "Fine. I'll switch to a different song."

*Darlin' let's give in to this night of sin
Heaven holds a place for you and me
Cause if we both give in to this night of sin
Heaven's just the place we're gonna be.*

Trip listened to the lyrics and turned a little red.

"Are you telling me that one isn't about sex?"

"Okay, Mal. I'm never letting you get drunk again. Yer mind goes straight to the gutter."

"Does not."

"Uh-huh. Last time you asked me about my sex life. This time you think `You Make it Hard' is about a hard-on."

"What, are you telling me it wasn't? That this song isn't about sex?"

"Yes."

*Now darlin' it's gettin' late don't take a chance
On missin' out on kissin' and romance
So honey take my hand, let's rock to the promised land
I just want to be your lovin' man.*

Malcolm gazed calmly at Trip.

"Okay, maybe it is about sex," Trip conceded. "If you don't like it, just tell me."

"Oh, it's fine. Nice beat. Decent voices. Quite good at their instruments. They're just lewd."

Trip stared at the smirking armory officer. "Buddy. You need to get laid."

"Are you offering?"

"A'right, what's gotten in to you?"

Malcolm grinned. "Two Guinnesses."

Trip groaned. "I repeat, yer never allowed to drink again. Got that?"

***

The next day:

"Do ya understand a word he's sayin'?"

Malcolm and Trip were standing by the airlock, talking to one of the aliens that had just recently boarded *Enterprise*.

"Not a word."

"Think we should call Hoshi over?"

Malcolm glanced over to where Hoshi and Archer were talking to the captain of the other ship.

"I think she's busy. We're just going to have to hope the UT kicks in."

"It is vvverrry immpressivve."

Trip smiled and whispered to the man standing next to him, "That sounds promising."

"Acgrh qrriiff nnodrd."

Trip's face fell. "That doesn't."

The alien looked between the two men and then peered at Trip intently. "Oqqla massive monster wwim peeter."

Trip's eyes widened in horror. "Mal, what's he talkin' about?"

Malcolm smirked. "I think he was admiring your wank."

"What? No. No, he couldn't have been. Not possible."

The alien smiled winningly. "Sword…inpants?"

Trip grabbed Malcolm's sleeve. "Malcolm? Make him stop." He sounded positively traumatized.

"I'm sorry. We seem to be having trouble understanding you. We didn't get that," Malcolm stated calmly.

The alien's eyes widened and he shook his head. "rrYou need a hefty kimm monnstter."

"I beg your pardon," Malcolm said, offended.

The alien raised an eyebrow then looked at Trip. "qSmall but Powwerrful lvj."

"I'll have you know," Malcolm said indignantly, "That I am quite well-endowed."

Trip choked.

Jon glanced over at his two officers and frowned. "Hoshi, why don't you go see what's going on? Trip is turning red, and Malcolm looks offended."

Hoshi nodded and hurried over to her friends. "What's the problem?"

"The UT's not working," Trip mumbled.

"It's an inflected language. That might be why the UT's having so much trouble with it." Hoshi took it from Malcolm and fiddled with it.

All three of them glanced up as the alien's words began to make sense. "Now I also have several pistols in my collection, but I don't like them nearly as much as my swords. Especially my giant kartarian sword." When he saw the confused looks on the three humans' faces, he continued. "Remember, the peeter. Oh, and the krrhij. The one that is small and powerful. Surely you must
have one in your collection, Lieutenant."

"Uh, no. No, I don't."

"What a pity. You must get one if you ever have the chance."

"I'll be sure to do that."

"Now if you'll excuse me. I must go to my wife." The alien nodded at them and headed over to the alien captain, Hoshi following right behind him.

"Now who's mind is in the gutter?" Malcolm commented.

"Oh, shut-up. You thought it first."

***

"Oh, Commander!"

Trip's head snapped up and he glanced over his shoulder slowly. He was pretty sure he looked just like that deer he'd nearly hit with his car when he was eighteen.

God damn it! Couldn't she just leave him alone? The damned linguist from the alien ship had been trying to corner him for days.

She climbed up the stairs of the warp core platform and ran her eyes up and down his body, licking her lips. "Commander, I have been looking all over for you."

"Have you?" He said stiffly. He scratched absent mindedly at his left arm.

"Have you been trying to hide from me?"

*Yes.* "No, I just have a lot of work to do."

"Couldn't you spare a little time to … talk to me?"

*No.* "I thought you were working with Hoshi."

"Oh, but I like to talk with a lot of people. And your accent is just so…interesting."

"Thanks." He looked down at his arm, frowning. It felt kind of hot. Had he burned it at some point?

"Commander?"

He glanced back up at her. "Hmm?"

"Do you like learning about new cultures?"

"Yeah."

She stepped up to him, pressing her body against his. "How would you like to learn about mine?"

Trip jerked back, grabbing his arm at a rush of intense pain. "Listen lady, I'm married."

She peered at him. "Married? To whom?"

"Lieutenant Reed," he said through gritted teeth.

She looked at him quizzically and then made a low growl in her throat.

Trip nearly collapsed from the pain shooting up and down his arm. "Will you excuse me? I think I need to get to Sickbay."

He turned to leave, but she grabbed his sleeve and pulled him back. "Lieutenant Reed is the man in charge of the armory, correct?"

"Yeah," Trip said weakly.

"Ooh, a fine man. How would he feel about a threesome?"

"What?!"

"A threesome. We could all indulge in a little…exploration. I heard from the captain that he's quite…daring."

"No." Trip shook his head frantically. "Just no."

She leaned close to him, whispering in his ear. "I'd make it worth your while."

Trip clasped his arm again and jerked away from her, practically running out of engineering.

She stared after him. Humans were so odd. But my they were fine to look at.

Hmmm, clearly the lieutenant was in charge of that relationship. She'd just have to see what he thought of her idea…

*

"What have you been up to, Commander?" Phlox chastised.

Trip stared down at his left arm. It was bright red and covered in sores and blisters; the *y'io* stood out in sharp relief against the burned skin.

"Nothin'. All I was doing was talkin' to that linguist and all of a sudden my arm felt like it was on fire."

"Oh? That's all?"

"Yeah."

"I don't suppose you…encouraged her?"

"Encouraged her? What the hell are ya talkin' about?"

"I have met this linguist. She is, how would you put it, like a `bitch in heat'?"

"That's her."

"I think this was the *y'io's* way of telling you it was *not* pleased. Really, Commander, you have only been married for a short time. What would Lieutenant Reed say?"

Trip pursed his lips. "Listen, Phlox. I didn't do anythin'. I've been doin' my best to stay as far away from her as possible. Haven't been encouragin' her or anythin' and I resent that you would think I would."

Phlox raised an eyebrow. "Understood."

"Now what can you do for this…burn thing?"

Phlox walked over to a shelf and took down a small bottle and handed it to Trip. "Put this on it."

"What is it?"

"Calamine lotion."

"Huh? My mom used this stuff when I got poison ivy."

"The old remedies are often the best."

"Are you tellin' me that with all your technology and weird pets that the best you can do is calamine lotion?"

Phlox nodded. "It is an allergic reaction. That will work best. I would suggest, however, that you stay away from that linguist and not make it worse. I will inform Captain Archer of what has happened and tell him you need to rest for the remainder of the day. That should keep you out of her sight. Shall I contact your husband, as well?"

"What? Malcolm?" Phlox nodded. "No! Don't tell him anything!"

"Why not?"

"He'd just accuse me of sleepin' with another alien bimbo."

"But you haven't … have you?"

"Given that just standin' next to her did this to my arm, what do you think?"

"No, then. But shouldn't you still tell him?"

"No. I'll see ya later."

Phlox frowned as Trip left Sickbay but quickly shrugged and resumed his work.

*

"Lieutenant?"

Malcolm glanced up to find the alien's linguist standing next to him.

"May I sit down?"

Malcolm nodded and returned his gaze to the report he'd been reading. He slowly lifted his arm and took a sip of his tea. He placed the cup back down gently.

"My, my you do that so gracefully."

Malcolm looked up at her again. "Do what?" He frowned slightly as his arm began to itch but he chose to ignore it.

"What are you drinking?"

"Tea."

"You drink it very gracefully."

Malcolm stared at her for several seconds. "Thank you," he finally said politely.

"May I try it?"

She picked up the cup and drank a sip before he could refuse.

"Delicious."

Malcolm glanced down at his right arm as the itch grew more persistent. A damned nuisance. He's have to talk to Phlox about it later.

"You are married to the commander, correct?" Malcolm nodded. "I spoke with him earlier."

"Oh?"

"We had quite a discussion."

"About?"

"A cultural … opportunity."

Malcolm narrowed his eyes. "What kind of opportunity?"

She leaned closer to him . "A … threesome," she said seductively.

"What?!"

"Your husband seemed quite enthusiastic about the idea."

"Did he now?" Malcolm's nostrils were flaring and he was ignoring the burn that was starting to go up his arm. "Would you excuse me? I need to go have a little chat with him." Malcolm got up abruptly and began to stalk towards the doors of the mess.

"He's in Sickbay," the linguist called out.

Malcolm turned and walked back towards her. "Why is he in Sickbay?"

"I don't know."

Malcolm nodded and spun around again.

"So when should we start?"

"When the captain learns to let me go first on away missions," Malcolm shouted back.

"When will that be?"

"Never."

*

Phlox took a step back when he saw the expression gracing Lieutenant Reed's face as he marched into Sickbay. "Where is he?" Malcolm asked crisply.

"Who?"

"Commander Tucker."

"I sent him home to rest. Is there a problem?"

"There will be."

*

Trip looked up as the door to his quarters flew open, and Malcolm stormed in. "What's up?"

"What's this I hear about a threesome?"

Trip grimaced. "That linguist talked to you, didn't she?"

Malcolm snarled. "Let me make one thing perfectly clear: there will be *no* threesomes."

Trip stared at Malcolm for several seconds before he got up out of his desk chair and stormed away. He couldn't believe Malcolm would actually think he would do something like that.

"Don't you dare walk away from me!" Malcolm grabbed the underside of Trip's left forearm with his outstretched right hand as the other man turned away. The *y'ios* connected, and Trip felt as if a jolt of electricity had gone through his body. His eyes began to tear up as Malcolm's emotions began to roll over him. On the surface was anger, but underneath was deep, all-consuming pain. Trip stared at his husband in shock.

"You may not have wanted this marriage, Trip," Malcolm stated through gritted teeth, "But I expect you to be faithful. No more bimbos. No threesomes. No more of this, `we're not really married so why does it matter?' You may not love me, but I love you, and I will not tolerate your infidelity or your indifference."

"You love me?" Trip asked in a hushed whisper.

Malcolm dropped Trip's wrist abruptly as he realized what he'd said, his features consumed by sorrow. "Oh, shit." Malcolm spun on his heel and raced from the room.

"Malcolm?"

*

"Hey, mama, Happy Mother's day! Probably not a great habit to get into, using my rank to make personal calls, but if you can't use it to call yer mama, what's it good fer?"

Rebecca Tucker smiled indulgently at her youngest son. "Well, thank you just the same. It's always nice to hear from my baby."

"So whatcha doin' today? Anythin' special planned?"

"Your father's taking me out to dinner."

Charles Tucker II looked up from his newspaper in the background of the screen. "I am?"

Rebecca Tucker turned her head and glared at him. "Yes, you are."

"Where are we going?"

"Surprise me."

Trip grinned as his father muttered, "It'll definitely be a surprise."

"Now, Trip, I'm glad you called because there was something I wanted to ask you," she said pleasantly.

Trip laughed. "Yeah?"

"Why haven't you consummated your marriage yet?"

Trip's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. "What? Mama!"

"Don't you mama me. You're married to an intelligent, stunningly gorgeous man and you haven't consummated your marriage. Now, I want to know the reason why."

"Who told you I hadn't consummated my marriage?" Trip suddenly narrowed his eyes. "Who told you I was married?"

"My son. The good one. The one who still talks to his mother and tells her important information."

"Huh? I didn't tell anyone back home."

"My son on *Enterprise*."

Trip's jaw dropped. "*Malcolm* told you?"

"Charles, he gets this denseness from you."

"Undoubtedly," Trip's father grunted.

"Johnny."

"Huh?"

"Johnny, my other son on *Enterprise*."

"Why that—"

"Now Trip, there is no need to get angry at Johnny just because he told me what you should have in the first place. Now, why haven't you consummated your marriage?"

"It's complicated."

"I know it is. I heard about how you two ended up married. But from what I hear and from what you've told me about him, he's a wonderful man. What's the problem?"

"Well…"

"Does he snore?"

Trip blinked. "Huh? No. I wouldn't care if he did."

"Good."

"But he's kind of anal-retentive."

"In what way?"

"Well…he's a neat freak. Made me clean my room."

Rebecca blinked several times. "He made you clean your room?" Trip nodded. She peered intently at the screen. "Trip move aside."

Trip did as he was told. She whistled softly, "Charles, you've got to see this." Trip's father sauntered over and looked at the screen. "My, he is good, isn't he?"

Rebecca nodded. "Trip?" He popped his head back in view. "You never told me my new son-in-law was a miracle worker." She held her hand up when he started to say something. "Don't you dare tell your mother to hush up on mother's day. But really, a little cleaning never hurt anyone. What's the problem?" Suddenly a look of horror crossed her face. "He hasn't tried to hurt you has he? He is an armory officer, after all."

"What?! No!"

Rebecca smirked. "Didn't think so."

"Mama, just cut it out, will ya? The problem is I'm not in love with him."

She blinked several times. "Nonsense. Of course, you're in love with him."

"No, mama, I'm not."

Rebecca sighed. "Trip, you know all those photos you sent to me?" Trip nodded. "Do you have any idea how many of them are of your husband?"

"About the same as anyone else, I suppose. Why are you laughin'?"

"Just wait a second." She hooked up a PADD and photos began to scroll across the bottom of the screen.

"Why look at that, there's one of your husband. And there. And there. And what do you know, that one's of him, too. Hmm, all of these are of Malcolm.

Oh, no, there's one of Jon and Porthos. But the next one's of Malcolm, and the next, and the next. Let's count them shall we … hmm 10, 11, 12, 13… oh, one of Travis, 14, 15, 16, Hoshi, 17, 18, 19, tree, 20, 21."

"I was just using him for scale."

"Then why does he take up the entire picture in all of them?"

"The zoom was broken."

"Uh-huh. Don't lie to your mother. You are in love."

"Am not."

"Are too. Trip, I've been with you through all of your `great loves' and let's face it, you wouldn't have put up with someone telling to clean your room before. You don't even let me do that, and I'm your mother. You know, even Natalie wouldn't have gotten away with it, and you were crazy about her. The only reason you won't admit it is because you're scared."

"Scared of what?" Trip asked weakly.

"Rejection. That he won't love you in return. You're stuck together for life, and you can't bear the thought that he might hate you for loving him. Now admit it. You love him, don't you?"

He stared at her for several moments, before his face fell. "Yes," Trip moaned.

"But you're scared he doesn't love you."

"He does love me."

"Does he?"

"He told me he did. He didn't mean to tell me but…Oh God, I've been acting like such an ass."

"Then why are you still being such an ass when you know he loves you?"

Trip groaned and hit his head on the table. "Now aren't you glad you called?"

Trip lifted his head. "He'll never believe me, mama.."

"Then you have to prove it to him."

"How?"

"I don't know. Take him on a honeymoon. Blow his mind with passion. Or just blow him. Either one works."

"Mama!"

"Don't use that tone with me. How do you think I got you?"

"But…"

Trip's head turned suddenly at the sound of the door opening.

Malcolm walked in, sweaty from exercising in the gym. Trip stared at him.

They hadn't really seen each other in over a week. Malcolm only came back when it was time to go to bed and left before Trip got up. Trip knew Malcolm was going to the movie tonight, Hoshi had told him, so that must be why he was back early. Wanted to shower before the film.

Malcolm glanced over at the monitor. "Sorry, didn't realize you were talking to someone," he turned to leave.

"No, no, no, no! Stop him, Trip. I want to meet him!"

"Hey, Mal, it's just my mama. She wants to meet you."

Malcolm walked slowly over to the desk and leaned down so that Rebecca Tucker could see him.

"Hello, Mrs. Tucker."

"My, my, the photos just don't do you justice."

Malcolm frowned. "Photos?"

"And what cultured tones."

"Aren't you going to introduce yourself, Rebecca?" Trip's father asked dryly.

"I was getting to that, Charles." She turned back to Malcolm. "Hello, sweetheart. Why don't you call me mama?"

"Uh, all right." Malcolm said slowly.

"Well, now that we know each other, I have one thing to say to you."

"Uh-oh," Trip whispered. "You're in trouble."

"Why?" Malcolm whispered back.

"Don't know, but I know that tone."

"Now, Malcolm, why haven't you written to your mother?"

"Huh?"

"She wants to know why you didn't tell her you got married. The captain had to tell her…just like he had to tell me." She glared at Trip.

"Um… hadn't gotten around to it yet."

"Um-hm. Well you make sure you get to it soon." She waited until Malcolm nodded in understanding before continuing. "And now that that's settled, I just have to say, you were the *cutest* baby."

"Pardon?"

"Your mother sent me your baby photos. You were adorable. Oh, and she said, and I quote, that `Trip had the cutest little bum.' "

"You're swapping pictures?" Trip exclaimed. "The naked baby pictures?"

"Of course. But don't blame me. Mary and I wouldn't have done it if you two had sent us photos of the wedding. It would have distracted us, and we would have forgotten all about those embarrassing naked baby pictures.

"Fat chance," Trip muttered.

"So from now on, I want you to send me pictures of the two of you. Lots of pictures. Pictures of your honeymoon maybe?"

"We haven't gone on a honeymoon," Malcolm stated.

"Then do. I want pictures. And while you're at it, have some children. I want pictures of them, too."

"Children?!"

"But that can wait for a little while longer. Just keep it in mind. Now I really must be going. We are going out to dinner tonight, after all. Decided where we're going yet, Charles?"

"I thought I was supposed to surprise you?"

"Well, surprise me and take me to that new Italian restaurant."

"Fine."

She turned back to the screen. "You make sure you come and visit the next time you're on Earth. I love you baby. You too, Malcolm." With that she closed the screen.

"And you thought your mother was bad," Trip muttered.

"Yes, but it sounds like yours is contacting mine. Think how much worse she could get."

"Good point."

"Quite."

***

"Cap'n, I need a favor." Jon looked up as Trip entered his ready room.

"What kind of favor?"

"Um, well there's this M class planet only a couple of days away…I kind of want to take a couple days of to…"

"To?"

"To take Malcolm on a honeymoon," Trip mumbled, face turning red.

Trip's head shot up at the whoop that came from Jon. Archer got up and hugged his friend, slapping him on the back. "I knew you'd come around. Now I have everything planned. Your hotel room. Your meals—"

"Whoa, Cap'n slow down." Archer blinked at the interruption. "Yer tellin' me you had this planned?"

Jon looked rather sheepish. "Well, if you hadn't come and requested a honeymoon, I was going to make you go on one anyway to sort out your differences."

"Give me a chance to realize what a dickhead I've been?"

"Precisely."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"But I suspected you'd come and ask me. Your mama wrote to me and told me you'd figured everything out."

"Uh-huh. No wonder you two get along so well. Yer more concerned with my life than your own."

"Of course we are. She's your mama; I'm your captain."

"Fine. Just do somethin' for me, will ya?"

Jon raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Don't tell Mal about this. Just tell him I'm meeting some diplomat and you're sending him along for security."

"Why?"

"Because the only way I can make him believe me is if I catch him off guard so he doesn't have a chance to think."

"Understood."

Trip nodded and left the room.

***

"Captain, I really wouldn't advise this."

"Nonsense, Lieutenant. The Rikarians want to meet our Chief Engineer, and I want someone from security protecting him. Since you are married, I thought you'd be the best candidate."

"But I'm sure that Nicols or Terrence would be better suited—"

"No. I want you to go. That's an order."

Malcolm's lips pressed together. "Understood."

Jon whistled as Trip entered the launch bay wearing an incredibly loud Hawaiian shirt and jeans. Archer glanced at Malcolm, who was much more tastefully dressed in black slacks and black shirt. "Malcolm, do me a favor while you're down there."

Malcolm raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Get him some clothes. And burn his old ones. Those are an eyesore."

"What are an eyesore?" Trip asked as he sauntered over.

"That shirt."

"Aww, Cap'n. You just don't appreciate a fine shirt when ya see it. It looks good."

"No, Malcolm looks good. You're an eyesore."

Trip wrinkled his nose at his best friend and turned to his husband, taking in his attire. "Guess I can't disagree with ya about Mal here."

Malcolm's jaw dropped open.

Jon cleared his throat. "Uh, why don't you two get going?"

"Fine by me." Trip walked over to the shuttle and climbed in.

"Malcolm, aren't you going along?"

"What? Oh, yes. Right away, sir."

Jon smiled as he watched Malcolm warily enter the shuttlepod.

***

"Nice room, dontcha think?"

Malcolm walked slowly into the large hotel room they would be sharing and
closed the door. "Trip, what' going on?'

Trip turned and looked at his husband. "What makes you think somethin's goin' on?"

"I read up on this planet. It has the same technology as Earth and has almost no crime. Why are we here?"

"Didn't the cap'n tell ya?"

"He said we're here to meet a diplomat. I don't believe it."

"Why not?" Trip asked softly, stepping up in front of his husband and looking down at him tenderly.

Malcolm's eyes widened and he looked away quickly.

"If we were meeting a diplomat, we would have gone straight to the capital. I saw a map. The capital is on the other side of the planet. What are we doing here, Trip?"

Trip twined his fingers with Malcolm's. "Just spendin' some time together …on our honeymoon."

"What?!" Malcolm tried to draw back, but Trip pulled the other man back to him. He pressed the palm of his left hand to Malcolm's right, allowing the symbols on their wrists to touch.

"I've been a real ass, Mal. I didn't treat ya like I should have. I want to make it up to you."

"Why?" Malcolm asked weakly.

Trip stared intently down at him, allowing all the love he felt to wash over his husband. "I'm in love with ya. Took me a while to figure it out, but... I want to, I need to show you how wonderful this marriage could be… if you'll only forgive me for being such an insensitive prick."

"You aren't an insensitive prick," Malcolm said automatically.

"Means a whole lot to me that you think that, but we both know better. I've been an ass, and we both know it."

"I'm confused," Malcolm said weakly. "You love me?"

Trip grinned. "What, can't ya feel it?"

"Um…yes, but…"

"I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. What's so difficult to understand about that?" Trip leaned down and kissed Malcolm tentatively, waiting for his husband to accept his kiss.

Malcolm remained still for several seconds before he moaned, grasping the back of Trip's head with his left hand and pulling him closer.

Trip slowly deepened the kiss, tracing Malcolm's lips with his tongue, begging for entrance into his husband's mouth.

Malcolm opened his mouth slowly, Trip's tongue swept in, tasting and exploring. He wrapped his arms around the smaller man, pulling him closer and drawing him up so that their hips pressed together. Both moaned at the feel of their erections pressing together.

Trip pulled back slightly and began to kiss his way down Malcolm's face and neck. Malcolm groaned. "Trip, what's going on?"

Trip chuckled. "What'd'ya think? I'm finally makin' love to my gorgeous husband." Malcolm shuddered at the feel of Trip's tongue caressing the pulse point at the side of his neck. "Have a problem with that?"

"No," Malcolm moaned.

"Too bad. I would have had fun convincin' ya otherwise."

"You can do that later," Malcolm replied breathlessly.

Trip grinned into his husband's dazed eyes. "I'm countin' on it… Now, we're talkin' entirely too much when we have better things to do."

He kissed Malcolm again to silence him and pushed him slightly so that he tumbled onto the bed; Trip fell down on top of him, pinning him with his weight.

He ravished the other man's mouth. The engineer's hands quickly undid the buttons of the Brit's shirt; Malcolm didn't bother unbuttoning Trip's shirt, he ripped it off.

The southerner raised himself up and looked down at the tattered cloth. "That was my favorite shirt."

"I had orders to buy you another one anyway."

"But—"

Malcolm pulled Trip down again and whispered against his lips, "I'll make it up to you."

"Promise?"

Malcolm whispered with exquisite detail everything he planned to do to fulfill that promise into his husband's ear, and Trip jerked back staring down at the other man in wonder. He then quickly divested himself of the remnants his shirt and pants, while Malcolm chuckled at his enthusiasm.

Malcolm leaned up and stripped off his own shirt; Trip reached over and undid his husband's pants.

Before long their naked limbs were pressed together passionately. Trip grabbed Malcolm's right hand and connected the y'io so that they could share in their passion; both shivered at the feel of their intense need for one another.

"I'm not going to last much longer," Malcolm whispered hoarsely. Trip shuddered and drew himself back from his husband with a groan. "Where are you going?"

His question was soon answered when Trip came back, kneeling on the bed with a tube of lube in his hand. Malcolm grabbed it out of his hand and squeezed a generous dollop onto his fingers. He threw the tube onto the bedside table and beckoned to the southerner.

Trip leaned over him, and Malcolm spread the lube onto the other man's erection. He then drew his husband down to him, spreading his legs to accommodate him.

Trip slowly inserted a finger into his husband's willing body, loosening the tight muscles. Malcolm grabbed his hand with his right and drew Trip's head down for another kiss with his left.

Trip slowly inserted himself into Malcolm's body, the pleasure blinding him as he felt their combined passion wash over him. His movements grew more frantic as he thrust into the smaller man, Malcolm lifting his hips to meet each thrust, squeezing Trip's fingers tightly so that they wouldn't lose the connection.

Trip reached between their bodies and grabbed his husband's penis, caressing it as he thrust. Malcolm groaned, stiffening as he came, calling out his husband's name. His muscles tightened around Trip and the Southerner gasped, shuddering as he, too, came and moaning Malcolm's name. When hew was finished pumping hise seed into his husband, he collapsed onto the
other man, breathing heavily.


Trip rested his head contenedtly on his husband's chest, arms wrapped loosely around him. "That was wonderful."

Malcolm carressed Trip's back and tenderly kissed the top of his husband's head. Trip smiled slightly at the touch.

"How did you arrange all this?" Malcolm finally asked.

"Hmm? Oh, I didn't."

"You didn't?"

Trip lifted himself up on his forearms to look down at the smaller man. "I wanted to go on a honeymoon, but when I went to the Cap'n to ask for permission, I found out he'd already arranged it."

Malcolm lifted an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Um-hm. Cap'n's payin' for the room. T'Pol and Chef are payin' for all our meals. Even found out which are the best restaurants. Told me that money was not an issue. Phlox bought us tickets for the theatre and some museums and wildlife sanctuaries, and Hoshi arranged for some gift certificates to some of the local shops from her, Travis, and engineerin' and security. All this is a
weddin present from the crew."

Malcolm stared up at him in wonder. "They … planned all this?"

"And kept it a secret. Pretty impressive. Rather embarissin', though."

"How so?"

"Just that they knew before I ever did."

"I knew I loved you."

"I know, I'm dense. Don't rub it in."

Malcolm smirked at him and drew him back down for a kiss. "Would I do that?" He asked innocently.

"Yeah."

Malcolm chuckled. "Think you're up for another round?"

"Oh, yeah."

***

Trip mumbled a protest the next morning as Malcolm jumped out of bed. "Where're ya goin'?"

"To take a shower. We have a long day ahead of us," was the cheerful response.

"Huh? Mal, come back to bed."

"No."

"Mal…" Trip began to whine.

Malcolm turned and leaned over his husband. "I'm taking a shower. We're going to go see the town and use up some of our gift certificates." He suddenly grabbed Trip's hand. "Now you can be lazy and stay in bed … or you can join me."

Trip's eyes widened at the wave of lust coming from his husband. He stared as Malcolm dropped his hand and sauntered into the bathroom completely nude. He heard the shower turn on and his mind finally recovered enough to form one coherent thought. *What the hell am I doing still in bed?* He scrambled out from underneath the covers and raced into the bathroom to join his husband.

***

"This thing's impossible."

Malcolm looked up from the new pair of handcuffs he'd purchased as Trip placed the puzzle he'd bought with the gift certificate from their crews on to the table in frustration.

"What's the problem?"

"I can't get the damned thing t' work."

Malcolm raised an eyebrow, setting the handcuffs on the table and picking up the puzzle. He examined the round metal object closely. He then pressed lightly at a few areas of the surface quickly and nimbly. The puzzled popped open, solved. He set it back on the table, crossing his arms and looking at his husband.

Trip stared at the puzzle and then up at the man sitting across from him in the little café they'd found in the center of the marketplace. "How'd ya do that?"

"It's rather like a Gilarian bomb. Relatively simple if you know the right sequence."

"Easy for you to say," Trip grumbled.

Malcolm smirked. "I can show you how to solve it."

"No, thanks. I'll figure it our fer myself."

"Suit yourself." He picked up his handcuffs again and began to fiddle with them.

"Whatcha plannin' on doin' with those?" Trip asked warily.

"Oh, I don't know. I thought they'd make a nice addition to my collection. Of course, they also have other purposes."

"What kind of other purposes?" Malcolm waggled his eyebrows. "Uh-uh. No way."

"Darling, where's your sense of adventure?"

"Handcuffs?" Malcolm nodded. "Well…"

"It'll be fun."

"Sure. Easy for you to say."

Malcolm laughed. "Maybe later."

"Yeah. Later. Come on. Let's get going. We still have two more shops to visit."

They both got up and paid their bill. Trip looked down at the map Hoshi had made for them and then at the names on the gift certificates. "Guess the one from Travis is closer. Go there first?"

Malcolm nodded and then chuckled.

"What's so funny?"

"I'm just wondering what kind of shop Travis would get us a gift certificate for."

"I don't know…Malcolm! He would not."

"You don't think so?"

"Travis?"

Malcolm laughed again at his husband's horrified expression. "If he thought it would be a good joke…"

Trip shook his head frantically. "No. Don't go there."

When they reached the shop, Malcolm had to practically drag his reluctant husband into the shop. They were pleasantly surprised to find that the shop specialized in tapestries.

"Wow. Just…wow," Trip said, dazed.

The eager owner of the store rushed over to them, bowing. "May I be of service, gentlemen?"

"Uh, yeah. A friend of ours got us this gift certificate."

The alien looked down at the piece of paper Trip extended. "Ahh, a very generous friend. You could buy two of our more elaborate tapestries with that. Would you like me to show you around?"

The alien preceded to show them the entire shop. When they came upon a tapestry displaying a hunt scene, it was love at first sight for Malcolm. "I want that one," the armory officer whispered. "It looks just like the Hunt of the Unicorn tapestries."

Trip cocked his head. "It's nice. But I rather like the one over there." Malcolm dragged his head away from the cloth that had caught his eye and over to where Trip was pointing.

He frowned. The tapestry was beautifully done, but he couldn't tell why Trip seemed so infatuated with it. He raised an eyebrow in question.

"Don't ya see it?"

"What?"

"It's a marriage tapestry. With a tall blonde and shorter brunette. Us."

"Trip, the blonde's a woman. Do you really want to be the woman?"

Trip wrinkled his nose. "Just for that comment, I'm hangin' it above yer desk."

Malcolm snorted. Not bloody likely. He'd have that hunting tapestry hanging above his desk or nothing. "You know, I think we just have enough money to get them both."

"Really?" Trip said eagerly.

Malcolm nodded, and Trip grinned.

They quickly made their purchase, asking for the tapestries to be delivered to their hotel room.

"So what's next on the list?"

"The shop Hoshi got us a gift certificate for," Trip replied.

"You know," Malcolm commented. "I never would have expected Travis to get us a gift certificate for a place like that."

"All I can say is: the boy's got taste."

They walked up to the shop. "Gentrar's," Trip read. "Antique place or somethin', do ya think?"

Malcolm shrugged. "Probably."

They both entered the shop and stopped, staring at their surroundings.

"Oh…my…God."

***

Malcolm straddled Trip's back, rubbing massage oil into his husband's skin, effectively turning the other man into a limp rag.

"Who would have thought it? Hoshi. I never knew she was that kind of girl," Malcolm remarked.

"I don't know, after the comments she was makin' about that pickle and yer tongue, I'd believe anythin."

"She was drunk. She wasn't herself."

"Uh-huh. And I suppose she was drunk when she bought us a gift certificate for a shop specializing in sex toys." Malcolm remained silent. "Not that I'm objectin', mind you, but this is one case where I'm not tellin' what I bought."

"Who would have thought it? The same handcuffs in the sex shop that I found in the weapon's shop. Only a great deal more expensive."

Trip groaned. "Not the handcuffs again."

"And they'll go so well with the blindfold and stimulating lube we bought."

"Stimulating lube: yes. Massage oil: definite yes. Blindfold: maybe. Handcuffs: uh-uh, no way."

"Trip, you're no fun."

"I don't trust ya with those handcuffs."

"You don't trust me?"

"Hey, I'd trust you with my life…but not with a pair of handcuffs. You'd torment me."

Malcolm leaned down. "Of course. That's what makes it fun."

"Fun for you," Trip grumbled.

"Oh, you'd enjoy it well enough. Besides which, are you telling me you wouldn't return the favor?"

Trip flipped over onto his back. "You'd let me do that? You hate being restrained."

"For you I'd make an exception."

Trip thought about this for several seconds. "Well… maybe I'd be willing to give it a try. Anything for the man I love, after all."

Malcolm leaned down and kissed him tenderly. "I thought you'd come around. And Trip?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you, too."

***

Epilogue:

"Hess to Lieutenant Reed."

Malcolm looked up from his console in the armory and walked over to the comm. "Reed here."

"I just thought you would want to know, sir, that Commander Tucker went home. Said he was tired and not feeling very well."

"What? What's wrong?" Malcolm asked, alarmed.

"I don't know, sir. Just relieved himself of duty and went home."

"Home? He didn't go to Sickbay?"

"No, sir. Straight home. I tried to get him to see Phlox, but you know how he is…"

"Yes, I know."

"I thought you should know about it. Maybe you could convince him to see the doctor?"

"Of course, Lieutenant. Thank you for telling me."

"You're welcome, sir. Hess out."

Malcolm frowned as he called Archer. "Captain, may I take a small break to check on Trip? Hess just told me he went home sick."

"Absolutely," was Jon's quick response. "Let me know how's he doing."

"Of course. Reed out."

*

Malcolm walked quickly down the corridors of E deck and opened the door to his room. He saw Trip underneath the covers, still in his uniform, dozing.

"Trip, did you go to see Phlox?" He asked softly.

"Hmm? Mal? What're you doing here?" Trip's voice was muffled from the covers.

"Hess told me you went home sick." He sat down on the edge of the bed and put his hand on Trip's shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"Nothin'. I'm fine. Just a little tired."

"You need to see Phlox."

"No, I don't."

"Yes, Trip, you do. If you were fine, you wouldn't have relieved yourself of duty."

"But I don't want to see Phlox," Trip whined.

Malcolm sighed. "Trip, get up. You're going to go see Phlox."

"No."

"Trip…" Malcolm said in a warning tone.

Trip sat up and glared sleepily up at Malcolm. "I'm the superior officer and I say I'm not goin' to see the doctor. I'm fine."

"And I'm the *ruamsai*, your protector, and I say you are."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am not."

"Don't make me call the captain to order you to go."

"You wouldn't."

"Really?" Malcolm got up and began to walk over to the comm.

"He wouldn't order me," Trip called out desperately.

"You think so?" Malcolm moved to press the comm button.

"All right. Geez, I'll go to Sickbay. Just stop looking so pleased with yerself, will ya?"

"Now was that so painful?"

"Shut-up."

Malcolm chuckled as he opened the door for Trip, and the two men walked down to Sickbay.

*

Phlox performed a thorough examination and then turned to Trip, grinning happily. "I never thought I would say this to you twice, Commander…but it seems that you're pregnant."

"What?!" Trip shouted. And then he heard a loud thump, and his eyes flew to where Malcolm had been standing. Both he and Phlox stared down at the ground, where Malcolm had fallen in a dead faint.

Hope you enjoyed!
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