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"Love's Greeting" ("Dream Trip" - Part II)
Author:
Pennyforum
Rating:
PG-13
Genre: Slash/Fantasy
Summary:
Trip
wakes from his dream, and is very pleasantly surprised.
Disclaimer:
Paramount owns everything, I own nothing and I’m not getting paid for this.
Comments: This is a
sequel to ‘Dream Trip’ which you don’t necessarily have to read first, but
you’ll probably understand it better if you do. This is unbetaed,
so all mistakes are my own.
The dream was always the same.
And Trip always woke up at the most interesting part. Don't we all?
He dreamt Malcolm was moving towards him, wearing a black leather catsuit and
slowly pulling down the zip as he came. He was accompanied by the most exquisite
music played out of sight and very quietly, by a violinist. Malcolm got closer
and closer, pulling down the zip. By the time Malcolm reached Trip it had
reached his navel. Then Malcolm surprised Trip by bending down to kiss him. Trip
was quite happy to kiss back, and also to run his hands and lips all over
Malcolm's torso. The zip had travelled most of the way down and Trip thought
that if it went any lower Malcolm would just - pop out. Trip was just about to
enjoy Malcolm's body - when he awoke. It happened every time - at exactly the
same point in the dream! It was getting frustrating. There was a difference this
time, though. There had never been music before.
It was odd. He was awake, but he could still hear the music.
He lay there for a while with his eyes shut listening, and thinking that he felt
good inside, satiated, as though he'd had a night of really great sex. He curled
up into the foetal position, sighed deeply, and settled down to go back to
sleep. Sleep, however, eluded him. Something wasn't right. It wasn't just the
music. No, the bed felt wrong. He couldn't put his finger on it, but...
He opened his eyes, and looked at the wall in front of him.
'Funny,' he thought. 'There should be a dirty patch right about there.'
There was something not quite right about his quarters. They seemed to be his,
yet not. O.K, the officers quarters were all basically the same. It's the way
the occupant personalised it that made the room their own. He looked around the
bed area and noticed subtle differences. For a start, the bedcover was the wrong
colour. It was a blue-green, whereas his was a deep blue colour, and - {sniff}yes,
the bed smelled different. Not unpleasant, just different. The contents of the
shelf over the bed were wrong. And… Of course! Suddenly it all came back to him.
This was Malcolm’s bed! He really had had a night of great sex. He and Malcolm
had spent the evening together, first at movie night, then they’d come back to
Malcolm’s quarters to share a bottle of Scotch. One thing had led to another and
they’d ended up in bed. They’d been ‘dating’ for a couple of months, but this
was the first time their relationship had progressed to full on sex. But there
was still the music. Where was it coming from?
He sat up looking across the room. He swung his legs off the bed, pulling the
bedcover up to hide his nakedness, then turned to look in the far corner which
had been hidden from his view whilst lying down, - and saw Malcolm.
And he was playing the violin!
He was obviously a very good player, and was completely absorbed in the music.
The expression on his face confirmed that.
A music player on the desk was providing the accompaniment to the piece, which
came to an end as Trip watched dumbfounded.
Malcolm started when he realised Trip was awake.
"Sorry,” he said. “I didn't mean to disturb you." He switched the music player
off and carefully placed the violin on the desk.
"How long have you been playing the violin?" Trip asked, puzzled.
Malcolm leant against a locker, arms crossed, a slight grin on his face.
"I started learning when I was seven.”
"Seven!" Trip nearly exploded. "Why've you been keeping it a secret for so long,
then?"
"Why did I need to tell anyone?" Malcolm asked. "You've only found out now
because this is the only chance today I shall have for any practice. I need half
an hour every day or I get rusty. I'd hoped that you were sound enough asleep
for me not to disturb you."
"So you snuck a violin on board, and you've been playing it every day for the
last three years, and nobody has noticed?"
"Had you been standing outside my door whilst I was playing, you wouldn't have
heard a thing. The
soundproofing is pretty good."
"Really?" Trip knew that the sarcasm was uncalled for but couldn't help himself.
He felt rather let down that Malcolm had kept such an important part of himself
hidden from his friend.
Malcolm sat down on the bed beside him. "It would have been my second choice of
career, you know, but weapons and explosives always seemed to get priority. I
know music and explosives are complete opposites, but I've been hooked on both
ever since I can remember."
He got up and opened a small top locker which, Trip could see, was full of
recorded music.
"I'm always listening to something while I'm off duty, especially last thing at
night before I go to sleep. But on duty, I concentrate on my job. I keep the two
completely separate."
Trip shook his head as if to clear it.
"I can't believe that no-one knows this side of you." He was genuinely puzzled.
Malcolm sat down again and he had a sort of faraway look in his eyes. He was
obviously remembering something from a while ago.
"The day before I signed up for Starfleet training I had a rather heated
exchange with my Father. He wanted me to do navigation, or possibly
communications. Or something just as boring. Anything other than weapons. But I
was adamant. As far as I was concerned it was weapons or nothing. I could have
signed up for navigation, and then transferred later, but that to me, was
underhand, and I wanted it clear and above board.
We argued for ages with him going on about how dangerous explosives were, and me
trying to explain that learning to handle them properly removed most of the
danger. He just couldn't see it. Finally I said that if I couldn't do weaponry,
I would make music my career, instead. I knew this would get a reaction, because
to him, music is a hobby. Not something to make your living with.
'YOU - WILL - NOT!' He almost screamed it at me. He was red in the face and
almost choking with rage.
'So weapons it is, then?' I said.
I signed up the next day with my Father standing behind me fuming. He always
wanted me to join the Royal Navy, you know, following family tradition, but I
have this thing about water - I don't like it. When I went off to Starfleet, I
took my violin with me. There was an orchestra there which I joined right away,
so I was able to keep playing."
"Does anyone else in your family play an instrument?" Trip asked, wanting to
know more of Malcolm's musical side.
"My mother plays piano, my father viola, and my sister cello." Malcolm answered.
He seemed keen now to tell Trip everything. "We would have musical soirées every
week. Sometimes just us, but on other occasions friends brought their
instruments and joined in. When that happened, if there was ever someone else
with a violin, I would be relegated to second violin, even if I was the better
player."
"Seems to me you would need a big room for that sort of thing." Trip remarked.
"I don't suppose it was a grand piano, was it?" This was said jokingly.
"Actually, yes." Malcolm seemed rather ashamed of admitting it. He sighed. "My
parents bought the house because it had this enormous room on the first floor,
with huge windows that looked out over the countryside. Nothing else was
important but finding a suitable music room."
"And I suppose you and Madeleine had the best of teachers?" Trip knew the answer
without Malcolm's nodded affirmation.
"Now don't tell me! Your violin's a Stradivarius."
"No. It isn't. But it is an Amati."
"Never heard of it."
"One step down from a Strad."
"So still pretty good then?"
Trip had never before considered that Malcolm might be musical and it was going
to take some getting used to. He watched as Malcolm put the instrument carefully
into its case, slackening off the bow a little before putting that away, too.
The case then went into the back of a locker. No-one would have known it was
there.
"O.K." Trip said, "So you're a closet violinist.”
“Well, I’m out of the closet, now. At least as far as you’re concerned.” Malcolm
sat back down on the bed beside Trip.
“You know, Mal, there are a number of musicians on ‘Enterprise’. You should get
together with them. Give us a concert, or something.”
“I’ll think about it, Trip. But I’m not promising anything.”
“Fair enough.” Trip put his arm around Malcolm and hugged him. “D’you know, I’ve
been dreamin’ about you?”
“Really? What sort of dream?”
“Well, you were dressed in a black cape and sombrero, and high-heeled boots.
When you took the cape off, you had this slinky black catsuit on underneath, and
as you strutted towards me, you were slowly pulling down the zip. By the time
you reached me it was – er – pretty low.”
“I strutted, did I? Then what?”
“I dunno. That’s when I woke up.”
“Shame!”
“I always wondered what would have happened if…? But it doesn’t matter now,”
Trip grinned at Malcolm, “we seem to have gone past that stage for real last
night.”
“And - did it come up to expectations?”
“Did it? You bet, Mal. And then some. When can we do it again?”
“Any time you like, love. Any time.” He leaned towards Trip and placed a kiss,
very gently, on his lips. It was the only contact the two had shared since Trip
awoke, but it was enough.
Trip sighed happily as a gentle warmth enveloped him. He would like to have
stayed there all day but knew that he had to be on duty in an hour. Malcolm was
already dressed. "I have a meeting with the captain before my shift starts, so
I'm going to get some breakfast now." he said. "Do you want to join me?"
"I'm not ready. Where did I put my clothes?"
Malcolm pointed to a drawer. "It's all there. Except for your boots. They're
under the desk. I'd offer you some clean underwear, but I don't think mine would
fit you."
"Thanks. I'll manage." Trip went to get his clothes. "By the way, what was that
music you were playing? I rather liked it."
"It's by Elgar," Malcolm replied, "called 'Love's Greeting.' It's a good piece
for the violin and I enjoy playing it. But I have to go." And as Malcolm moved
towards the door, he continued, "You're welcome to use my bathroom. Just don't
leave it in too much of a mess."
That lop-sided grin was the last thing that Trip saw as Malcolm left the room.
"Mess? What does he mean - mess? I'm not messy, am I?" Trip looked round
Malcolm's ultra-tidy quarters. "Well, maybe compared to him, I am."
As Trip showered, he was feeling a bit narked.
“How many nights has he spent listening to music on his own?”
'Does he think he's the only one who likes classical music?' -
'Bet his favourite piece is the "1812 Overture". All those cannon... '
'If he'd asked, I'd've happily sat and listened to music with him.'
'He only had to ask.' This was accompanied by thumping the wall with his fist.
Using Malcolm's toiletries, it occurred to him that they would both be smelling
the same today.
'Gee, I hope T'Pol doesn't find it too overpowering.'
Shaved and dressed he tidied away anything he could.
"It's probably all in the wrong place, anyway,” he muttered to himself as he
opened a locker to throw something in. Then he stopped and did a double-take. He
was looking at something hanging in the locker. He couldn't quite make it out
but it reminded him of - what? He took a closer look, then reached in and drew
out the garment.
"Well, I'll be..."
What he was holding was a black leather catsuit!
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