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"The Morning After" Author - Kathy Rose | Genre - First Time | Genre - Humor |
Main Story | Rating - PG-13
Trip * Malcolm Fanfic Home Sequel to: Surrounded
By Stars A/N: OK to archive, just ask first, OK? *~*~*~*~*~* Trip and Malcolm were eating breakfast together in the mess hall, hoping no one would notice their silly grins, when they were summoned to see the captain. As they left the mess hall and headed for the bridge, they tried to figure out why the captain would want to see both of them but none of the other senior officers. Enterprise was ship-shape again, no pressing repairs to be made or weapons systems to be fixed. The viewscreen, they saw when they walked onto the bridge, showed they were moving along at a respectable pace, the stars zipping by. They exchanged a glance when they arrived outside the captain's ready room. Both took a deep breath at the same time and they almost burst out laughing. They were still too giddy from their activities late the night before to let an unexpected order to the captain's ready room dampen their mood. But in a flash of insight, Trip had a revelation of what the meeting might be about. "He knows we were in the observation bubble last night," he said. Malcolm glanced up at him curiously. "How could the captain possibly know?" "I don't know, but we picked everything up, so we should be OK... Well, except for the broken couch." "I thought you fixed that." "I did...sort of." "I'm glad you do a better job with the warp engine than you do with couches." "Shut up!" The door suddenly slid open to reveal the captain, surprising both of them. "Gentlemen. Perfect timing," Jon said. He stepped aside, allowing the other person in the ready room to approach the door. Trip swallowed when he saw it was the quartermaster, the one person on board who kept track of the more mundane items aboard -- like couches. Giving Trip and Malcolm a smug nod of acknowledgement, the quartermaster stepped past them without speaking and walked down the hall. "Come in, men," Jon said, regaining their attention. "I have a few things I'd like to go over with you." Jon went around behind his desk and sat down. Malcolm stood at parade rest in front of the desk and Trip, seeing his new lover in that stance, imitated him. Jon gave Trip a quizzical glance before speaking. "If I didn't know better," he began, "I'd say you two are acting guilty." Trip gave a nervous start. Malcolm didn't even blink. Jon smirked. "I just had a visit from the quartermaster." Jon paused to watch the faces of his two officers. Malcolm's gaze was glued to a spot ahead of him on the wall. Trip was looking anywhere but at his captain. "After Chef, the quartermaster is probably the worst person on board to piss off," Jon remarked. "He can get back at you in any number of ways. Next time you need boots, he'll give you a size smaller than you need. Or he'll give you industrial-grade toilet tissue. He can even make sure your uniform shrinks when it's laundered." Trip cleared his throat nervously. "Ah, was the quartermaster upset about something, sir?" Jon bit the inside of his lower lip as he tried not to laugh. Oh, these two were guilty, all right. Trip wouldn't be in what passed for his officer mode, standing almost at attention and using "sir," if he wasn't. He knew his friend well enough to tell that he was trying to hide something. Malcolm, on the other hand... Well, Malcolm never looked like he was guilty of anything other than the overzealous performance of his duties. Jon stood up and walked around the desk to stand in front of the two men. "Would the quartermaster be upset if he checked the observation bubble and found one of the legs on the couch was broken? Of course, some of his foul mood could be that he didn't know the leg was broken until he sat on the couch and it gave out under him." Jon turned and paced over to the window, where he looked out at the stars for a moment. Turning back, he said, "But there's more." "More?" Trip squeaked. "Yes, more. There's a stain on the carpeting that reeks of alcohol. The quartermaster doesn't know if it will come out. ... And there's another thing. There's wax on the coffee table. Apparently--" A beep from the comm interrupted Jon. Reaching over he pushed a button on his desk panel. "Yes?" "I saw Lieutenant Reed enter your ready room," came T'Pol's voice over the intercom. "Would you ask him to return the candles he borrowed. I will need them later for meditation." "Will do," Jon said, thumbing the button off, a satisfied smile on his face. "As I was saying, apparently someone used some type of fire-burning items -- probably candles -- which left wax on the coffee table. Not to mention the use of an open flame is against regulations." Trip shifted uneasily. Malcolm remained motionless, certain the captain didn't really want an answer. He had clung to the hope that the captain was fishing for information and didn't know for sure who had been in the observation bubble, but that hope was dashed when T'Pol had called on the comm. But someone must have seen them leaving the observation bubble and tattled to the quartermaster. Otherwise, the captain wouldn't have asked them to report to his ready room in the first place. "So, are you going to tell me the circumstances under which this damage occurred?" Jon asked. Trip opened his mouth to speak, but Malcolm jumped in first. "It was personal, sir." "Personal?" Jon repeated. "Ah, yeah," Trip added. "It was definitely private." "Private," Jon echoed, trying to look as if he was just coming to the conclusion that he'd figured out several days ago. Two of his officers were having an affair. Knowing Trip as he did, he wasn't too surprised. The man had practically been beside himself the last few days, exhibiting the same symptoms of all the other times Jon had seen him become involved with someone. That Malcolm was the other officer involved still boggled his mind, however. As long as it didn't affect their duties or cause other problems, he didn't give a rat's ass what they did in their off time, regulations or not. And just so long as they didn't tick off the quartermaster again. One session of listening to the man's whining had been enough. "You two were both in there when this happened?" "Yes, sir," Malcolm volunteered, and Trip nodded in agreement. "No one else?" "No, sir," Malcolm said. "Totally alone...by yourselves...with candles and alcohol," Jon said, gazing knowingly at the two men. Neither man said anything more, but Jon wasn't expecting them to. He'd made it perfectly clear he knew what they'd been up to. He went back to his desk and sat down, picking up the PADD with the list of damages the quartermaster had given him. "Here's everything wrong with the observation bubble. I expect you two to fix or clean whatever is needed." He handed the PADD to Trip, who scanned the list. "Hey, we didn't chip the finish on the end table!" he said indignantly. Jon raised his eyebrows inquiringly, but before he could say anything, Malcolm spoke up. "Yes, we did." "We did?" Trip asked incredulously. "How?" Malcolm paused, unable to believe Trip wanted details in front of their commanding officer. "Yes, how did that happen?" Jon prodded maliciously. Malcolm had no choice but to answer. Picking his words with care, he said, "Trip's belt buckle hit it rather forcefully." Jon tried to envisioned how that could have happened, and wondered if Trip had fallen against the table. Maybe he had been wrong about them. Had they gotten into a fight instead of what he thought they were doing? Lord knows they argued all the time. "Did you get hurt falling on the table?" Jon asked in concern. "Ah," Trip said. "I...ah...wasn't actually wearing the belt at the time." Jon watched in interest as both men began to blush. He saw his first guess about them was right. He'd humiliated both of them enough. Stiffling a chuckle, he waved a hand at
them and said, "I don't want to know any more. Just clean it up.
Dismissed." "We wouldn't have got whiskey on the floor or broken the couch if ya hadn't jumped on me," Trip said accusingly as he scrubbed the stained area of carpeting. "I didn't hear you complaining at the time," Malcolm retorted as he chipped away at the wax on the table. "Besides, the way you were flailing around, I'm surprised the whole room didn't catch fire. We're lucky just one candle got tipped over." "I wasn't flailing! I was enthusiastically respondin' to what ya were doin'." "Such as when, in your haste to disrobe, you whipped off your belt so fast that the buckle hit the end table?" A new thought struck him. Bloody hell!" "What?" Trip asked. "We're going to have to get some wood stain from the quartermaster to fix the scratch. I'm not looking forward to that meeting." Trip's low chuckle caught his attention. "I'm glad you find something funny in this situation," Malcolm said sourly. Trip only laughed louder. "Oh, Malcolm," he said when he could catch his breath. "I wouldn't trade last night for anything. I'm so glad we've finally managed to get together. But, just listen to us." "What?" "We've been together for less than a day, and we sound like an old married couple," he said, starting to laugh again. Malcolm regarded his lover for a moment, then a smile slowly transformed his face and he, too, began to laugh. They returned to their tasks with renewed enthusiasm. Trip looked over to see Malcolm still smiling as he polished the table. "What?" Trip asked. "If we're like an old married couple now, what are we going to be like in a
week?"
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