Path: newsspool2.news.atl.earthlink.net!stamper.news.atl.earthlink.net!elnk-atl-nf1!newsfeed.earthlink.net!prodigy.com!news.glorb.com!postnews1.google.com!not-for-mail
From: susieqla@yahoo.com (Sue)
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
Subject: NEW FIC:  ENT - Invitations - (T/T)  PG-13,  1/1
Date: 20 Sep 2004 10:58:02 -0700
Organization: http://groups.google.com
Lines: 785
Message-ID: <2ccb8eac.0409200958.a3da606@posting.google.com>
NNTP-Posting-Host: 159.10.4.104
Content-Type: text/plain; charset=ISO-8859-1
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit
X-Trace: posting.google.com 1095703083 24774 127.0.0.1 (20 Sep 2004 17:58:03 GMT)
X-Complaints-To: groups-abuse@google.com
NNTP-Posting-Date: Mon, 20 Sep 2004 17:58:03 +0000 (UTC)
Xref: news.earthlink.net alt.startrek.creative:160844
X-Received-Date: Mon, 20 Sep 2004 10:58:05 PDT (newsspool2.news.atl.earthlink.net)

Title :      Invitations
Author:      Sue
E-Mail:      susieqla@yahoo.com
Website:     None.
Series:      ENTERPRISE
Pairing:     T/T
Category:    Romance/Het.
Rating:      PG-13
Summary:     Offers are made.  Any takers?


Invitations



Trip Tucker thought back, going over that time he'd
sprained his ankle just before the Xindi weapon had
been destroyed.  The bad sprain had laid him up longer
than Phlox had anticipated, even T'Pol's ankle had
recovered quicker than his had.  Finally, after nearly
three weeks of complete bed rest had rolled by, the
ankle had regained enough strength to bear weight.  It
had felt like manna from heaven not walking around with
a decided limp and the pitying looks that went with it,
Tucker reflected.

He never liked being 'out of it.'  Being forced to
'suck it up,' even for a short while, was never for
him.

The 602 Club felt more like a home away from home
everyday.  He could hardly wait to be back aboard
ENTERPRISE, stretching his 'space legs' once more.

Florida was officially still home, always would be.
Some family, and many of his friends had survived.
While he'd been among them, talking about Lizzie's
death hadn't come easy, for both sides.  In less
than a week's time, Trip had decided he'd be better
off back here among fellow Starfleet personnel.

He'd have to deal with his remaining family's and
friends' attitudes one day, but for the present, he
didn't have the stomach for it.  Starfleet was
family, and he had stopped berating himself for
feeling this way, ever since...

Trip blinked, anxious over being anxious, and then
he reasoned he'd wait all night if it came to that.
The club wouldn't close until five a.m.

A little over two months to go, and the new mission
began; all the hoopla, and there had been considerable
over the crew's glowing successes, was dwindling.

What he couldn't understand for the life of him was
the negativity diverse segments of society harbored
against the crew and the mission that had saved lock,
stock and everyone, dissenters included.  Where did
they get off holding demonstrations in front of
Starfleet headquarters during the congratulatory
celebration?  Many police arrests had been made.
Some people were *never* satisfied, Trip pondered
soberingly.

Would the protestors have liked it better if Earth
had been eradicated?  'Not likely...we saved their
collective asses,' and he smiled sardonically on the
cusp of that thought.

For the most part, their lives as crew members had
settled into the structured routine of systematic
preparation.  Well, their lives, up till this
point; that part of standard procedure had ended.

They were on extended shore leave for the duration.
One week prior to departure they were to report
back for final briefings and dry runs.  If he could
just get through these draggy weeks of waiting, he'd
have it made like having biscuits and gravy for
breakfast.  Life didn't get much better aboard the
starship he mothered like a gifted child.

He nursed his bourbon neat and checked his watch.
Where the hell was she?  His making good on buying
her a drink was long overdue.  He hoped T'Pol hadn't
decided to stand him up.  Seeing her tonight meant
a lot, and she had promised that as soon as she could
get away, she would meet him here.

Starfleet was putting her through her paces and this
was apart from all the arduous debriefings they'd all
been subjected to.  Apparently, despite Jon's assurance
that he had strings to pull to relieve her of basic
training, his pulling hadn't been hard enough.

T'Pol was a strong woman, as strong as they came,
stronger even.  Time and time again she had
assumed command of ENTERPRISE as though she were
born to it.

Yet, Trip wondered whether the agency had gotten carried
away by making her mandatory basic training far too
rigorous, even for her.  From the little she'd said,
it sounded as if the high-rankers figured she had
something more to prove.

Trip's reverie slipped back to a more distant past.
Having been saddled with that sore, exasperating ankle
for over two weeks had put a real crimp in his style.
Coupled with his trying to cope with it, along with
what had been his insanely busy work schedule trying
to keep a badly-damaged ship together, had almost
proven a superhuman feat.

Just like all those other times, he'd made good on his
word to the captain.  The troubleshooting he'd promised
had revealed that of all the decks aboard ENTERPRISE,
the grand prize for having the most bobbles went to E
deck.  The senior officers' mobility bonded with greater
confidence had been assured.  Their risking multiple
sprained ankles had been rendered nil thanks to a
conscientious team effort.

And speaking of team effort...the woman he waited on
entered the club as though she owned this bubbly
place.  Drawn to her like magnets, Trip's eyes drank
the sight of her in.  His heart skipped several beats,
noting that what T'Pol wore was reminiscent of the
clothes she'd worn when she and the captain had
visited Earth back in 2004 to thwart the Xindi's
attempt to construct the bioweapon.

In a word, T'Pol was beautiful.  He liked the look of
her hair; she had let it grow out some.  It never
ceased to floor him how her beauty far transcended
the physical, though.  Physically, she had it all over
most women.  Her beauty was the substance of keeping
heart and soul together.

"T'Pol...over here," Trip indicated, signaling to her
when he stood.  As she approached, her stride confident
and purposeful, he considered that maybe his selection
of the small, barely-lit booth was remiss.

Standing before him now, T'Pol hesitated, evidently
sizing up the cramped logistics of the setting.  Trip
made ushering-in motions with his hands.

"Commander..."

"Aw, c'mon, T'Pol, it's been a while.  I've missed all
the one-on-one we used to share."  The Vulcan didn't
budge, and Trip began casting his eyes in different
directions attempting to locate another table, one
which hemmed no one in.

Just as he spied one, she spoke.  "Very well..."
T'Pol wafted by him as gently as a summer breeze,
making sure her body graced his just enough before
she settled into the nookish space.

Trip smiled, still living in the moment of the briefest
contact.  Evidence of how plainly he missed her was
like a bas-relief on his face as he stood taking her
in.  Once re-seated, all comfortably tucked in beside
the elegant woman who was a routine invader of his
dreams, he inveigled, "For a moment I didn't think
you'd come."

There was an unearthly quality about T'Pol Trip had a
hard time reading.  "I am here..."

"So ya are."  'Love it when she states the obvious,'
he recited to himself.  A waitress materialized as
though she were a genie.  Trip decided that draping
his arm over T'Pol's shoulders would come later even
though it was what he wanted to do that very moment.
"What'll ya have?" he trickled into her ear which was
invitingly near.

The wriggling of her nose was as imperceptible as she
could make it.  After casting her eyes downward, she
asked, "How many of those have you already consumed?"

Trip puffed a breath into her ear.  Already quite
flushed, he warmed further, seeing the tiny way
T'Pol had twitched at the contact.  "That's only my
second, I mislead ya not."

"Has it ever been your intent to mislead me?" she
bluntly asked.

Trip puckered his lips at her.

The waitress did not intrude with a follow-up to Trip's
inquiry.  Her trained eye and ear clued her that it
wasn't all sweetness and light, smooth sailing for this
attractive, albeit unusual couple.

T'Pol skewered their attender with a penetrating glare,
as if she knew exactly what the slight auburn-haired
woman was thinking, and it was so not true.  The
five-foot two inch woman with hazel eyes that seemed
to be judgmental knew nothing about them and what they
meant to each other.  "Does this establishment serve
Port Coolers?"

Trip raised an eyebrow, knowing how much he enjoyed
the drink himself, quietly impressed that T'Pol
knew its name.

"Sure thing, ma'am.  How'd you like it?" the waitress
was quick to ascertain.

Stiffly, T'Pol informed, "I would like it quite minty,
with half the sugar it is normally prepared with.  And
with virtually no ice."

"Heavy on the mint...with half the sweet.  Curb the
ice.  Got it."  To Trip she offered, "Can I freshen
that for you?"

Trip felt the side of T'Pol's left leg nudge the side
of his right.  He cocked his head haphazardly at her,
capping it with a lopsided grin.  His line of vision
slipped from T'Pol's neutral facial expression to
the waitress' anticipatory one.  "Uh, nah, nah...I'm
good."

"Coming right up."  The waitress disappeared on that
upbeat note.  T'Pol's drink would be the last one
she'd serve this night; her shift ended less than
five minutes from now.  The hour had grown quite late
so there wasn't much of a daunting crowd to wade
through.  Soft background music provided friendly
atmosphere for murmured conversations.

Yielding to the temptation T'Pol's proximity lent,
Trip gently kissed her cheek while his arm got all
comfy with her shoulders.  "How're ya holdin' up?"
He gave her upper arm a firm squeeze.  "Your great
muscle tone feels even greater.  How much more
trainin' are they puttin' ya through?"

T'Pol held herself rigidly, though not taken
instinctively aback by his impulsivity.  There was
something propitious in what he'd done.  Perhaps
what she had in mind wasn't as implausible as she'd
first judged it might be.

"I completed the regimen today."

"Great!"  Considerately, he ventured, "Are ya sore?
Maybe in need of a little TLC?  Like say some
neuro-pressure?  My magic fingers are rarin' to go.
Just say the word, and they're at your disposal..."
His nose sidled up against her cheek and he
whispered, "I've missed ya, T'uh.  Bein' apart so
much hasn't been easy even though it's been in the
line of duty an' all.  I've ya missed ya much, way
much."

"'T'uh'?" she mildly chided, sensing his use of this
new nickname was just as impulsive as the kiss upon
her cheek.  "Did your visit to Florida prove
beneficial?"

"Yes, and no..."

"I'm not sure I want you referring to me as the
sound of a single syllable."

"Yeah, well, I'd thought I'd try it on for size.  Has
sorta a nice ring, don'tcha think?"  His victim of
over-familiarity held to her resolve, not looking
at him.  "Aw, c'mon, give..."

The paragon of resistance never batted an eye.  "Was
your visit beneficial?" she staunchly repeated.

"Let's not discuss it right now, okay?  Not in the
mood."

"Why aren't you?"

"I'm just not, so just drop it, for the time bein'.
Just for now.  For another time...I promise."

T'Pol acceded.

Coyly then, Trip whispered, "Please don't hate it,
and gimme a break.  You don't like 'Polly,' not even
just plain old 'Tee,' so what's a fella supposed to
call the gal he's sweet on?"  Wistfully, making it
sound like an appeal, he amended, "The woman I'd like
to think of as wantin' me to woo..."

T'Pol, without any excessive movement raised the hand
of the arm he'd squeezed to give his hand a single
pat.  "So by your own admission, it would appear you
want us to pursue some form of romantic relationship."

"Who told ya that?"

It was then T'Pol nailed him dead to rights with
one of her many versatile looks he recognized oh,
so well.  "I suppose the next thing you'll express
is how I'm hearing things *you* never said."

Trip gave a crinkly little chuckle, delighted with
the way the conversation was going, dead on track,
for once.  "Oh, I said as much all right.  And make
no mistake about it, T'uh, uh--T'Pol.  I mean what I
say.  I want us to have somethin' real, somethin' more
between us than steamy neuro-pressure sessions--which
I'm not knockin'--you along with them became my
salvation."  Sighing, and seeming as though he was
staring into empty space all too deeply, he confessed,
"You're what I've always dreamed of."  He came out of
his reverie, aware that there was no turning back
now.  "Okay, so if it's all one sided, I'll live with
it, but it's gotta be said.  I love you, truly do.
I consider ya family, T'Pol.  Know what I thought about
most of the time I was back home?  You, that's who.  I
thought about you.  It was like tryin' to herd cats
not thinkin' about ya."

T'Pol wondered if Trip was going to kiss her lips this
time.  She sensed he wanted to.  She wanted him to, but
he refrained for some reason.  It puzzled her.

"I'd like history with ya, but, if that's not what ya
want, I'll accept it, move on, and."  He lowered his
voice, realizing he'd become more vocal than his
admission warranted.  "Aw, hell...sometimes I know
what I want...most times I'm all over the place."
Trip shook his head.  "One thing I do know for sure.
You've blown away the stubbornest of my preconceptions.
I'd like to think I've helped blow a couple of yours
away."  He took his arm off her shoulders so he could
tent his hands around hers.  He got cross with himself
because his hands shook a little.  "Romance...romance."
He sighed as though the idea behind the word was 
mind-boggling.  "I-if it's not for us...then...well..."
He appeared dazed which matched the glazed look of his
eyes.

"Trip," T'Pol said as though it were a prayer.

He lowered his lips, parted his hands so hers were
revealed and touched his lips to them.  "Our bein' real
good friends'll be the bulwark that keeps me grounded."

"Trip..."  This time, the sound of her voice was
strangled.

"It all rides on what you want."  Nodding, he raised her
hands to his lips to kiss the hand she had on top of her
other one.  "T'Pol, I mean what I say, darlin'."

She knew he did, she thought, as a sharp gnawing
settled in the middle of her chest; T'Pol was silent
for quite a while.  The trouble she had breathing was
acute.  She felt the swift onset of tears threaten to
overwhelm her eyes.  In the interim, the waitress
served her drink.

"Put everythin' on my tab," Trip instructed the
employee, and their server wished them a pleasant
night.

Quitting time couldn't have come soon enough,
Angie thought, tucking the generous tip Trip had
jammed into her hand into her apron pocket.
Grateful, she smiled at him, but noted that the
handsome regular didn't return what she had
appreciatively bestowed.

The poor soul looked as though he had lost a
best friend, or soon would.

Sounding somewhat subdued, T'Pol permitted, "I won't
pass judgment, only if you promise to keep the
abridged usage of my name to a bare minimum."
Granting Trip more leeway than he dared hope for,
T'Pol leaned her body into his, and took a sensuous
sip of her limey-green hued cooler.  Her eyes, her
glistening eyes, gave away how she truly felt.
Stoicism caved to her being deeply moved.  "I..."
She found she couldn't look away from him and his
intensity, but what she wished to say, she knew
she could not.  She was not free to, she had never
been truly free...

Trip stumbled over such paltry things as words, at
first.  His arm claimed her shoulders once more.
"--Promise," Trip obediently spoon-fed into her
ear, puffing more breath behind it, and with her
body pressed heavily against his, he felt her
tremble.  Like a reflex, he squeezed her to him
more firmly.  "Then I'll say it for us both...again.
Love you..."

Depositing the drink down in front of her, T'Pol
listened with her heart and it had no problem
overruling her mind.  It had begun to dawn on her
lately that too much of life was bittersweet.  "I must
return to Vulcan."

Trip, feeling a little crestfallen, remarked,
"Really.  Okay...when?"

"Immediately."

His facial expression mirrored his preoccupation.
"That soon."  Before he gave it a second thought,
he blurted, "Well, you haven't been home-side for
a while.  At dinner that night with the cap'n, I
remember you said there are some old colleagues
you wouldn't mind seein' again."

"There is an important matter that must be addressed
for which my presence is mandatory."

"A family matter?" Trip presumed.  "No, I can't
read minds.  It's just how ya said it."

She nodded, impressed by his instincts.  Holding his
gaze, which felt to be a tremendous responsibility
at this juncture, T'Pol explained, "My mother, T'Les,
awaits my arrival."

"Mom, huh?" Trip unmitigatedly drawled.  "Uh...in
that case, nothin' less than puttin' in a personal
appearance *will* do.  Visitin' Mom transcends
whatever else in importance."

Mincing no words, nor objectivity, T'Pol asked
without her usual degree of detachment, "Please
accompany me..."

Trip's eyes practically spun in their sockets,
before falling out.  Now, *THAT* he wasn't
expecting.  Fantastically, the thought popped
into his mind...'takin' me home to meet Mom
and Dad...'  A wave of giddiness swamped him.
"Y-ya want me taggin' along?"  His statement had
come out all high and tight to put the finishing
touches on the lightheadedness that was wreaking
havoc with his grip on reality.

"You would honor me with your presence.  I would
like you to see where I grew up, meet the people
who are important to me.  Broaden your sense of
what has made me who I am..."

"T'Pol...aw.  I...I don't know what to say.  Your
wantin' me to go with ya to Vulcan...it's just so
damn sweet of ya to extend such an invite."  He
wore the identical look of sheepishness he'd worn
the morning after their close encounter of the
intimate kind.  "What can I say?"

Was she hearing him correctly?  He sounded as
though he was saying, "thanks, but no thanks."
She felt a wealth of uncomfortable things, as
he studied her with his big blue eyes as large as
life.  She had misjudged the depth of what he said
he felt for her, after all.  So this was what
disappointment really felt like.

"You don't want to accompany me, then," she stated
firmly, and the stab of feeling letdown was plain in
her tone.  "I merely speculated that you would want to
come with me.  I..."  She stopped herself, a tad
apprehensive that if she continued, the escape of a
few tears would be her undoing.

Trip blinked several times, amazed that she could
be so clueless when all he wanted to do was smother
her with kisses.  He was rapturous that she'd asked
him in the first place, and in no way, shape or form
was she being impassive about the fact that his
turning her down would disappoint her, and from
what he read from her now, that was an understatement.

"What I am asking is--"

"The greatest thing you've ever asked of me..."  Trip
winked at her.  "Uh, well, let me preface that by
sayin' the second greatest.  We both know what the
first greatest thing was..."  He let his mouth hang
open for a beat, then continued, "That bein' said,
my answer is a resoundin' big, fat--YES.  Yes,
absolutely."  Trip nearly forced her to sit in his lap.
"Your askin' me, T'Pol, is an honor.  One I'd be a real
imbecile not to accept, so yes, yes yes.  I'm on board."
When do we leave?"

Impossible human, T'Pol tenderly awarded, seized by
the powerful feelings she reserved only for him.
"This Friday..."

"This Friday it is, then," Trip supportively bounced
off her.  "Can't wait."

"We can discuss the details tomorrow, if you'd like."

"Sure thing, over breakfast, early...at my place..."
Trip stopped talking, again performing a reality check.
"Spend the night..."

A look of wanting to say yes crossed her face for the
briefest of moments.  "My doing so would be ill-advised."

"That's kinda preemptive, don'tcha think?"

T'Pol disagreed, but mildly, "Restrictive, but for
valid reasons."

"Granted, but same thing."  After Trip shrugged, he
made another attempt.  What kind of self-respecting
lonely man would he be if he gave up this easily?
"I've got valid reasons too.  Here's one for
starters.  I can't think of a better way of gettin'
reacquainted, and I don't mean sexually.  I'd like
us to spend some time together before we make this
trip.  Just you and me, connectin', the way we used
to before intimacy.  Before things got kinda ambiguous
with us."  Then he laughed.

T'Pol thought it was inappropriate that he'd done so,
but she remembered that sometimes he laughed when he
was nervous.  He'd told her that the night they'd had
sexual intercourse.  "Are you nervous, Trip?"

He sighed, giving her an affectionate look; the longer
she was with him, the stronger his desire that she
stay with him.  "Nah, well, maybe just a little.  I
thought of somethin'.  Somethin' ya might like.  See,
I bought these candles I saw.  They're kinda like yours."
Sounding tentative, he posed, "We could mediate, like
we were startin' to...before..."

When she turned again to face him, he knew he had
her ear, and the notion that bordered on being a
pun infused his face with an engaging smile.  "I'm
not sleepy, and I know you're not...so, come with
me.  Of course, it's whatever you want, T'Pol, first
and foremost."  The way he sounded possessed all the
earmarks of begging, but he didn't care.  There was
something to be said for not sharing quality time with
her.

Lost, he had no qualms about qualifying, described
his feelings to a tee, and he smiled again,
satisfied with himself that he was man enough to
admit it.  If her wanting him to go home with her
meant what he hoped it might...being without T'Pol
could be something he'd never have to face, ever again.

"So...what d'ya say?  Whatever's your pleasure."
Trip raised his right hand and crossed his middle
and index fingers.  "Scout's honor."

His action piqued her interest.  "Scout?  What sort
of scout?"

Trip saluted her.  "Boy Scout--an Eagle Scout,
technically.  I still have my twenty-one plus merit
badges, I'll even show 'em to ya, if you'd like."

"Merit badges?"  T'Pol's budding interest made her
wider-eyed.  "Would they be considered emblems of
honor?"

"Straight-up they would, of the highest order.  The
twenty-one badges...only the start for qualifyin' as an
Eagle Scout.  In addition, I earned badges for..."  Trip
gave his memory a good jog, and as memories filtered
into his conscious thought, facets of details he
thought he'd forgotten sprang to the fore.  "Animal
science, archaeology, architecture, ASTRONOMY, fission,
backpackin', chemistry, citizenship in the world,
climbin', computers, electronics, ENGINEERIN', MACHINERY,
personal fitness, plumbin', small boat sailin', swimmin',
uh..."

"I would like to learn how to swim."

"Remind me to teach ya next time we visit Risa.  Now
where was I?"

"Swimming..."

"Oh, yeah.  Skydivin', SPACE EXPLORATION...even water
skiin'."

Trip basked in the afterglow of his former achievements.
"Scoutin's a great institution, builds wonderful character,
among other things..."  He winked at a very bemused T'Pol.
"Don'tcha think I got wonderful character?"

"I believe I have some familiarity with this
cooperative for young males and females of your
species from the Vulcan database.  From your list,
you appear to be well-decorated," T'Pol stated as
though she saw him through newer eyes.

Trip nodded, and relived further memories, seeing
the smiles of pride etched in his parents' faces,
hearing the accolades of other family members and
friends, at every award ceremony ever held.  The
banquets were also occasions where parents compared
notes on how their children were doing in the ranking
and badge departments.  "Wanna see 'em?  I've got 'em
individually stashed in the backpack I used to hike
everywhere with."

"Aboard ENTERPRISE," T'Pol ventured.

"When we're aboard ENTERPRISE, then they're aboard
ship.  In spacedock, I take all personal effects back
to my apartment..."  He rapped the tabletop a time
or so.

His release of that information surprised T'Pol, but
mistress of deadpan as she inimitably was, her visage
remained neutral.  Raising her eyebrow was something
he expected.

"My offer still stands...if ya wanna see 'em.  Some
great storytellin' about how I earned every last one
of 'em--guaranteed," Trip sweetened with a bat or two
or three of his roguish eyes.  "I'll even make tea.
I got the kind ya like just in case ya ever had the
wild idea to drop by one day."

"And this could be that day in question," T'Pol said
evenly, matching anticipation with him.

"Could be...if you give the go-ahead.  So how about
it?"  Trip clinked his glass with hers and downed
what was left of his drink.  "Back to my place?"

In the midst of his swallowing, T'Pol settled it.
"Seeing these badges interests me."

"I was hopin' you'd say that."  Trip chuckled
poignantly.  She was never an easy sell, but
sometimes, she surprised him.

"I wish to inspect your commendations first, before
you divulge the circumstances promoting their
attainment."

"I wouldn't have it any other way.  Your wish, et
cetera, et cetera..."  Trip scrambled clear, giving
T'Pol ample room for her to leave the booth.
Unassumingly, he followed her as she led the way out
of the 602 Club.

Now, if he could just remember where he'd ditched those
half moth-eaten, dingy patches in the faded backpack
that looked as though it had gone through one campaign
too many of what formal history considered to be, the
hot and cold flare-ups of the 'Unification' skirmishes.



First light of a brand new day tapped on the towering
windows of Trip's apartment on the twentieth floor.
He, somewhat bleary-eyed, edged himself away from the
couch to help himself to more coffee.  Lazily, he
glanced over his shoulder to see T'Pol paying him her
undivided attention.  Swirling around the muddy-looking
contents of the carafe, Trip paced himself.

"I know you're not crazy about this stuff, but want a
little?"

"Thank you, but no.  Its taste is cloying."  Averting
her eyes, T'Pol assessed the glut of colorful badges
with their stylistic representations of the fields
Trip had succeeded in.  If she requested that he bring
his prizes with him to Vulcan, would he comply.  His
badges would be something admirable to, 'show off'
as she recalled how humans termed it.  Vulcans had
comparable times set aside to congratulate others on
their achievements.

While adding a drop of half-and-half to his cup, Trip
jutted his chin at her.  "Where'd the time go?"

"Where I must...away."  She got up from the couch,
going to the oval-cornered closet to put her
imita-leather jacket on.

"Thanks for stayin' with me."  Trip sipped some coffee,
set the cup down and hustled to help her into her
jacket.  "It's good to have ya back."  He got to the
raven colored article of clothing before she did,
holding it up so she could slip into it.  "It's too
bad we didn't get to meditate.  We'll save it for
next time..."

"I ask a favor, Trip," T'Pol carefully phrased, turning
her face to his.  His hands, after holding the jacket
for her to settle into, flowed from her shoulders until
they came to her upper arms.  He gave her some light
pats and his hands clung to her.  "Another one..."

"Sure..."

Her voice nearly lilting, she enjoined, "Bring your
merit badges to Vulcan..."

"Ya think I should?"

"Yes, I think you should."

"Okay.  I will, then."  If he didn't know her any
better, he might have sworn he saw her smile, more
or less.

Before she thought better of it, T'Pol came close to
him and softly kissed his cheek.  What shone in her
eyes was all the thanks he needed.

Trip called after her, "Come back around nineteen
hundred hours, or anytime after...I'll make dinner.
Chef and I've been seein' a lot of each other lately.
He's taught me a thing or two about makin' plomeek
soup, not to mention some of the other things you like.
What I tried fixin', with his coachin' every step of
the way, wasn't half bad, accordin' to him.  Be my,
whatever they call a lab rat on Vulcan, tonight?"

T'Pol halted at the elevator, waved her hand over the
pad for it and felt a burble of hope flow in her.
Even at this distance, she saw how his eyes sparkled;
they normally did when he was happy, very happy,
indeed.  "There is no linguistic equivalent in
English."

"Is that a, yes, or a no?"

Stepping into the roomy, mirrored elevator, T'Pol
faced around and replied, "Will there be pecan pie for
dessert?"

"There could be.  I can't make one, but Chef could
probably recommend a good bakery," Trip excitedly
followed up.  'Might get him to make one, if I get
down on both knees...while I'm down there, might
even persuade him to get started on our weddin' cake.'

"I will arrive at nineteen-forty..."

"Fantastic," Trip practically cheered right before
the elevator door swooshed shut.  And they say the
way to a *man's* heart is through his stomach, he
reflected, as he closed his door.

'...And maybe just maybe...my funny Vulcan's heart too.'

He was on the vid-comm link to Chef in a flash, hoping
he hadn't gone too far out on a limb.  Only Chef's
hands-on assistance could help him pull off what he'd
so passionately promised T'Pol.  Aloud, he beseeeched,
"Please, please, please be there and don't be upset that
I'm callin' this early..."  When his call was picked up,
he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Hey there, Chef, mornin'.  It's me Trip.  I know it's
early; I apologize.  Uh, listen, ol' buddy, I've got a
whooper of a favor to ask..."


End


NewMessage: