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Hayes’ dress uniform hung on the curtain rail, and Malcolm watched it gently sway from one side to another. Each draft of air from the half-open balcony door sent it swinging and he found the movement mesmerising. Hayes was in the bathroom, just out of the shower and drying himself off. From where Malcolm was sitting, propped up on an elbow on the hotel bed, he could see him move in the bathroom mirror, swinging a wet towel over his shoulder and lathering his face with shaving foam.
‘Are we running late?’ Hayes met his eye in the mirror, bringing the straight razor to his face. The first time Malcolm saw him shave, the fact that he used a straight razor had annoyed him beyond belief. Now he liked it, watching the blade slide over his skin. As with everything else, he was meticulous in his shaving.
‘No, we’re good on time.’ Malcolm got off the bed and walked over to the bathroom, leaning against the doorframe. He watched Hayes shave and found comfort in this simple act. When had this become normal?
He couldn’t pinpoint when Hayes had become his rock, at what point they had stopped treating this as a convenient tryst when shore leave allowed and it had become something serious. It must have been years. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be here, now. Not on this day. Hayes’ hair was going grey. His temples were speckled with silver now, and wrinkles framed his eyes. Malcolm adored it. Despite it all, they were both growing old.
‘Come here,’ Hayes said when he finished, beckoning him with one finger. He lifted Malcolm’s chin and studied his face. ‘Your sideburns are uneven.’ He closed his eyes and felt the razor slide over his right cheekbone, then a kiss on his temple. ‘All better.’
‘Thank you.’ Hayes’ fingers were still on his chin. They were just looking at each other. They found themselves doing this sometimes, not having anything to say, just finding comfort in the other’s face.
‘How are you feeling?’
‘I’m fine.’
‘So you’re nervous.’ Malcolm laughed and buried his face in Hayes’ chest, anchored by one of his arms wrapped around his back.
‘Maybe a little,’ he admitted.
‘We don’t have to go, you know.’ Hayes’ fingers ran down Malcolm’s back, tracing patterns with a feathery touch.
‘I want to go.’
‘In that case,’ he stepped away and gave him a quick kiss, ‘I guess I should get dressed.’
‘Guess you should.’ Malcolm didn’t have anything against the idea of spending the day with an undressed Hayes, but he had to admit it wouldn’t be appropriate, considering where they were going. Appearances matter, his father had always said. His father. He hadn’t seen his father since before he signed onto Enterprise, and the invitation to his seventy-fifth birthday party had surprised him. He wasn’t quite sure why he had accepted and although he wanted Hayes there, he hadn’t expected him to have the time to. He had claimed that he had nothing scheduled the day of the party, but Malcolm suspected he had rearranged a number of important meetings to come with him. He would never admit to this, so Malcolm hadn’t asked. He returned to the bed, watching Hayes carefully put aside the uniform jacket and begin to dress. ‘How is the MACO uniform so bad and yet your dress uniform is so nice?’
The dress uniform had none of the paint stain pattern of the duty uniform, but sleek lines, handsome gold and silver against a soft grey. The golden cufflinks, embossed with the MACO shark, lay in a velvet box on the window sill.
‘Maybe that should be my first priority as Colonel. Better duty uniforms.’ Hayes said as he buttoned his shirt. ‘By the way – procurement are still waiting on my housing request.’
He said this as though this was just small talk and not a big unspoken question. He had not-quite-asked this before, mentioning as an aside that his promotion necessitated a move to Pasadena and, if Malcolm wanted to... Malcolm had sidestepped the question with a vague excuse. They had not actually sat down and discussed this before. He couldn’t believe Hayes would bring this up again now of all times.
‘I don’t know where I’ll be going,’ he mumbled.
‘I know.’ Hayes looped his tie with more force than necessary, and Malcolm recognised the way the muscles in his jaw shifted. Not anger, but disappointment. Hurt feelings. It had taken him a long time to realise that despite his facade of the unfeeling military man, Hayes’ heart was easily bruised. ‘They’re getting impatient, is all.’
Malcolm bit his lip. He knew he was being selfish, refusing to discuss this. But why did he have to bring this up now ? He tried to imagine a day-to-day life, where he would be kept up at night by Hayes’ snoring and his warmth. He tried to picture Saturday breakfasts with honeyed muffins and tea, and Sunday night biscuits and gravy. He found it difficult to. A knock on the door interrupted his thought.
‘Are we expecting someone?’
‘I don’t think so,’ Malcolm replied and cracked the door open.
It was Madeline.
‘Malcolm!’ She was through the door in a moment, wrapping him up a hug. ‘You said you’d be staying here, so I thought I’d drop by and say hello before the – oh! Hello.’ She had let go off Malcolm and noticed Hayes. She reached out a hand. ‘I’m Madeline – Malcolm’s sister.’
‘Colonel Hayes.’ Malcolm knew that Hayes saw Madeline’s glance at Hayes, then him. He had never told Madeline about him. He wasn’t sure why – perhaps it was the worry that if he told her, it would end and he would be humiliated. Hayes shook the hand smiled one of his rare smiles, wide and warm. It was a smile that made Malcolm feel calm inside.
‘I didn’t know that Malcolm – well – um – how long have you known each other?’ She smiled but was clearly caught off guard.
‘Seven years, give or take a few months.’
‘Wow, that’s – wow.’ She blinked and, yes, she was gaping. ‘It’s very nice meeting you. Would you mind if I stole my brother for a little bit?’
‘Go ahead. I still need to finish getting dressed.’ As if to prove the point, he folded his cuffs and reached for his cufflinks.
Malcolm followed Madeline into the hallway, her grip on his hand harder than he was comfortable with.
‘Seven years?!’ She hissed at him. Was she angry? He always had had such a hard time understanding her moods.
‘It’s not really seven years,’ he answered dumbly, ‘I mean. Not like, you know, that. This.’
‘Explain.’ When Malcolm hesitated, she sighed and waved a hand, changing her tactic. ‘Let’s start from the beginning. How did you meet?’
‘On Enterprise. ‘53. He was in charge of the MACO troops Archer requested.’ Madeline put up a hand to interrupt him.
‘Wait a minute. You hated that guy.’ Malcolm opened his mouth to protest but his sister continued. ‘Look, everyone on Earth was terrified out of their mind and I wanted you to give me some reassurance and all you would tell me was that there was some military man “like one of dad’s horrid friends” – no, don’t argue, I remember you saying this – that was trying to steal your job and if he would fall out of the closest airlock that would make both the mission and your life easier. Is he that MACO officer?’ She laughed out loud when Malcolm nodded, chastised. He couldn’t remember the comment about the airlock, but it sounded believable. He had definitely compared him to one of his father’s cronies. ‘So what happened?’
‘We – I mean, I guess I stopped hating him. It was –‘ Malcolm broke off, giving himself a moment to think. This was such an awkward topic to talk about with his sister. ‘Space is very big. And very cold. And. There were times we all thought we were going to die. And so, it was – it wasn’t serious.’
‘And now,’ she said, with the confidence and tone of a debate team coach, ‘he is getting dressed in your hotel room, about to meet our parents.’
‘Well, it – come on, Madeline, don’t be like that – it got less not serious.’ He continued when she raised an eyebrow. ‘He almost died, okay? On the Xindi ship. I’m sure you’ve read the public reports. He was, oh, mostly dead so he wasn’t going out into space again. And I was in space. You know, boldly exploring or whatever. And –‘ Malcolm ran a hand through his hair, embarrassed and relieved at the same time to finally tell his sister, ‘I don’t know. We would talk sometimes. Spacelink. And then more than sometimes. When Enterprise was back on Earth, and when our schedules would align, we would try to, I guess, see each other. And now – you know.’
‘Is it serious?’ She asked. ‘Have you met his family? I mean, are you committed and all?’
‘I’ve met his family, yes. Well, his father and brothers and one very loud aunt.’ It had been several years ago – three, perhaps four. Malcolm had mentioned Enterprise was heading back for Earth and Hayes, as if in passing, asked if he had plans for the holiday. That’s how he had ended up celebrating Thanksgiving in North Carolina, trying to discuss duck hunting with Hayes’ opinionated aunt while a hand traced up his leg. That was the first time Hayes had smiled at him, in the small bed they shared, and told him that he’d missed him. Malcolm exhaled and looked away. ‘He’s – I think he wants me to move in with him. I mean, he’s asked me. Kind of.’
‘How do you “kind of” ask someone to move in?’ Madeline’s air quotes hung in the air.
‘He got promoted a few weeks ago, so he’s being transferred. He’ll be liaising with Starfleet on security measures for the Coalition of Planets. Only man for the job, I guess. And, well, he’s mentioned that if he asked for it, he could get a house large enough for both of us.’
‘Don’t tell me: you are refusing to give an answer because you don’t know where your high-and-mighty captain is going to end up doing and you want to keep working for him, yadda yadda yadda.’ When Malcolm nodded, Madeline pulled him into a hug. ‘You’re an idiot, brother. You’re ridiculously clever, but you are so stupid. At some point in life you have to actually make a decision on your own. And don’t hmpf me.’
‘Hmpf,’ Malcolm said, intentionally being difficult. He wrapped his arms around her. He had missed his sister, even though she had the bad habit of being eminently reasonable and constantly chipper.
‘I should head to the party. Mother and father wanted me there early. Tell your boyfriend it was nice to meet him, okay?’ She kissed his cheek and disentangled herself.
Malcolm opened his mouth to say that Hayes was most definitely not his boyfriend, but decided not to poke at that beehive. Back in the hotel room, Hayes had styled his hair, one of his few vanities. Since retiring from active duty, he wore his hair a little longer, sides still short, and Malcolm had been delighted to discover the soft curls of his hair, that once in a blue moon would fall into his face, and Malcolm would melt. Today, though, he had combed the curls back and he perched on the armchair, doing up the laces of his boots. Against the sleekness of the dress uniform, the boots looked heavy and clunky, but without a speck of dust or grime on them, they couldn’t be his regular boots.
‘Madeline had to run,’ Malcolm said, sitting on the bed, ‘she said it was nice to meet you.’
‘You hadn’t told her about me, had you?’ Hayes didn’t look up, tugging at the laces. Even if his voice was level, Malcolm felt the tension crackle in the air. ‘Like you haven’t told your parents. Do they even know I’m coming with you to this?’
‘No. I haven’t. I’ve meant to tell her, but – she pries. She keeps asking until she knows everything. And I have a hard time saying no to her. And this – this is private. You and me.’ Hayes shrugged and Malcolm sighed. ‘She said you’re my boyfriend.’
Hayes laughed at that, glancing up for a moment before returning his eyes to the ground, knotting the boot laces.
‘Aren’t we a little old for that?’ It was Malcolm’s turn to shrug. After all these years, they had never taken the time to determine what they were . Apart from that Thanksgiving in North Carolina, they hadn’t really seen much of each others’ lives. Enterprise didn’t count. ‘I guess you haven’t told captain Archer?’
‘I think he might know. Trip knows, and in general, if he knows something, so does Archer.’ Malcolm started poking at his cuticles. He never liked talking about the crew with Hayes. There was also the threat of conflict when the topic came up. The memory of the start of their relationship, rocky and full of fighting. The unspoken knowledge that Malcolm would find it easier spending another decade in space serving under Archer than living with Hayes. ‘And Hoshi, of course.’
‘Of course Hoshi.’ Hayes’ friendship with Hoshi had unnerved Malcolm at first, her open affection so at odds with his own shyness. Hoshi had the ability to make Hayes laugh, something he rarely did with anyone else, even with Malcolm. She would rest her head on his shoulder and he would always embrace her when they said goodbye. It took a while, but Malcolm realised that their closeness was a result of Hayes saving her life, not a sign that Hoshi was a rival. Hayes opened his mouth, as though to say something, but instead he shook his head and stood up. ‘Acceptable?’
Malcolm walked up to him and adjusted his tie. It didn’t need the adjustment – Hayes could tie a perfect tie in his sleep – but Malcolm wanted to touch him. The kiss he planted in the corner of his mouth was almost timid.
‘More than acceptable. Excellent.’
Malcolm’s hands had come to rest upon his shoulders, and one of Hayes’ hands had trailed down to the small of his back. The other hand traced along Malcolm’s hairline, a half-smile resting on his face.
The kisses, when they came, were slow and hesitant, asking nothing more than to be returned. It was all tenderness and gentle touches and none of the hardness that sometimes came between them. Malcolm sighed against the kisses, yielding to Hayes’ fingers trailing down his spine and his hand on the back to his neck. All too soon, Hayes pulled back.
‘We should be leaving, shouldn’t we?’ Malcolm nodded. Hayes gave him one final kiss. ‘Then let’s go. Did you mess up my hair?’
It only took Hayes a few seconds to comb through his hair again, and they were soon leaving the room, not quite touching. Malcolm felt comforted by his presence, and his anxieties about seeing his parents again were eased by Hayes at his side. It would be fine.
‘How are you?’ Hayes reached out and grasped Malcolm’s hand.
‘I’m fine,’ Malcolm said and threaded their fingers together.
‘Always with the fine.’
‘Don’t push it, Colonel.’
‘Wouldn’t dream about it, Commander.’
They walked in silence, Hayes’ thumb stroking Malcolm’s skin. Although he had never been to his parent’s new home, his feet led him as though he was just walking home from school. The house was large and ominous. It was thousands of miles from the house Malcolm had grown up in, but the arched windows brought him back to his childhood. He swallowed and let go of Hayes’ hand.
‘This is it.’ Malcolm tugged at his uniform jacket, suddenly unsure what to do with his hands. Holding hands with Hayes felt wrong, but not holding his hand felt just as strange. He folded his hands behind his back and tried a smile. ‘Shall we?’
‘Lead the way.’ Hayes followed a step behind him and Malcolm found himself glancing back several times, making sure that he was still there and that he wouldn’t have to face his family alone. Every time, Hayes smiled at him, the secret smile that hid in his eyes and the wrinkles of his face. It calmed Malcolm.
The foyer was empty, but noise reverberated from inner rooms, party chatter and a four-piece band. One of the walls of the foyer was covered in glass, behind which hundreds insects were pinned. They both paused to look at them. Malcolm wondered if Hayes was also thinking about the Xindi ship. Their shoulders brushed, but Hayes didn’t reach out for him. He was grateful. He was about to say something, mutter that they should really join the party, when he heard a voice behind them.
‘Lieutenant Hayes – is that you?’ They both turned. The woman who had spoken was short and blonde, regal in a white uniform. The Arctic Research Division, Malcolm realised. Hayes’ face lit up when he saw the woman, reaching out a hand.
‘It’s colonel now, Brigadier Einarssen.’ She shook the hand and glanced over at Malcolm before returning her attention to Hayes.
‘Congratulations. What are you doing here? I didn’t know you knew the admiral.’
‘I don’t. His son and I served together.’ Hayes said, and Malcolm was both disappointed and relieved that he had kept the explanation of their relationship strictly professional. ‘Commander Malcolm Reed, this is Brigadier Ingrid Einarssen. We met during my training on the Arctic base. How long ago was it – twenty years? Twenty-five?’
The brigadier laughed, a pearly low laugh.
‘At least! Those were the days.’ She smiled at Hayes before turning to Malcolm. He couldn’t tell how old she was. Older than himself, and probably older than Hayes. Younger than his parents. Her face was unlined but her eyes spoke of experience. ‘So you’re Malcolm Reed. You know, you don’t look like your parents.’
‘My sister got the looks,’ Malcolm explained. Einarssen glanced over at Hayes and smiled.
‘I don’t know about that, Commander.’ She paused for a second before she continued. ‘Would you mind terribly if I stole your friend for a while? It’s been so long since we last met, and I’d –’
‘Go ahead.’ The brigadier blinked at the interruption but didn’t comment. Malcolm licked his lips. ‘I was going to find my sister before I joined the party.’
Einarssen accepted Hayes’ outstretched arm, and they entered the party together. Malcolm went to find Madeline. She was, as he had expected in the kitchen. Sitting on one of the immaculate countertops, she was leafing through a magazine and holding a champagne coupe between two fingers. She looked up when he entered.
‘Malcolm! Why aren’t you at the party?’
‘I could ask you the same.’ He gave her a hug and nabbed a drink from the kitchen island. ‘I wanted to see you before I went in.’
‘Here I am!’ She closed the magazine. ‘Where’s your handsome man? Are you hiding?’
‘He ran into an old friend. Brigadier Einarssen, do you know her?’ Madeline sucked in her cheek as she considered.
‘Rather short? Norwegian, I think? Father met her during some summit a few years back. Think she lives in town. Don’t know more than that. So your boyfriend knows her?’ Malcolm shrugged and said apparently in all but words. ‘By the way – is Hayes what I should call him? Is that a first or last name anyway? I can never tell with Americans.’
‘It’s his last name. He doesn’t really like his first name.’
‘What is it?’
‘It took me months for him to tell me so I think you’ll have to wait a little longer.’ She made a face and he laughed. ‘How are you doing, Madeline?’
‘I’m good.’ She told him about her job as a teacher, how clever and generous children could be at a moment’s notice while being utterly unbearable the next moment. She told him about her cat and how he loved to chew on her favourite jumper. She told him that she had missed him so much, and that she hoped he was happy. She was happy that he was back on Earth. ‘But maybe we should join the party,’ Madeline finally said. ‘We don’t want to leave your soldier all alone.’
‘The party’s full of soldiers – he’ll be fine.’ Yet, at the back of his mind, Malcolm worried that maybe Hayes had found it unbearable and just left. He wouldn’t do that, would he? Yes, his sister was right. It was better to join the party.
Madeline took her brother’s arm and led him to the living room. As with all of Mary and Stuart Reed’s previous houses, the room was large and oppressing. Somehow his father had convinced his mother that insects were acceptable art, and a row of pinned beetles were lining the ceiling. Maybe she just never looked up and, therefore, wasn’t bothered by them. Malcolm looked around the room, looking for Hayes and either of his parents. He spied Einarssen and asked her where Hayes might be.
‘Oh, your father wrestled him from me. They’re down, hm, over there.’ She pointed and Malcolm saw them: Hayes with his hands behind his back and his head bowed, listening to Stuart Reed, who was smaller and rounder than Malcolm remembered. Madeline thanked the brigadier and pulled Malcolm away.
‘It’s fine,’ she said. Malcolm’s mind was providing him all the reasons it was not fine. His father had never respected him. Would that somehow rub off onto Hayes? Was his father explaining, with Hayes listening and nodding, why their relationship was at best immoral and at worst career suicide? Possibly, probably, definitely. Malcolm inhaled, trying to recentre himself. His father had always disapproved of great emotion.
‘Happy birthday, father.’ Stuart Reed looked up and seemed surprised to see Malcolm. Hayes looked at him and he could see a nervous smile that was hiding in his eyes. Madeline kissed his cheek and quickly excused herself. They were alone with his father.
‘Malcolm. We haven’t seen you in a while.’ Terse, withdrawn.
‘I’m sorry I’ve not been home.’ The lie was not convincing. His father waved away the apology – that was enough sentimentality for the evening, thank you, Malcolm – and gestured toward Hayes, palm up, like a waiter presenting a dish.
‘This is Colonel Hayes. We were discussing cannons.’
These eight words told Malcolm many things. One was that he had been correct in his statement to Madeline, years ago, suggesting that Hayes would get along with his father. More important, however, was the fact that although Hayes had introduced himself, he had not explained why he was there. With whom he was there. Malcolm didn’t know if he felt grateful or upset that he had left this out. Hayes looked at him, a hesitant smile tugging at the corner of his lip. Malcolm licked his lips.
‘Yes, I know Hayes. He’s my plus one.’ Malcolm took an awkward step toward Hayes. Stuart looked from Malcolm to Hayes and back, his eyes finally going down to their hands, Hayes’ fingers gently wrapped around Malcolm’s. ‘We met on Enterprise.’
Stuart paused. This statement seemed to confuse him more than his son’s hand in another man’s.
‘That’s a MACO uniform,’ he finally said, addressing Hayes.
‘Yes, sir.’ Malcolm couldn’t prevent the smile when he heard Hayes call his father sir. Trust him to turn to honourifics in an awkward situation. ‘During the Xindi year, I served under your son.’
‘A general serving under a lieutenant?’
‘I was a major back then. And Malcolm’s been promoted, too. He’s a commander now.’
Malcolm’s father focused on him with the speed and decisiveness on an owl. Even his head was at an angle, studying him.
‘You were promoted?’ His voice was very level. Malcolm opened his mouth. He considered lying, saying that he had sent a letter to tell them, but he didn’t want to lie. Before he could decide what to say, he saw his mother.
She weaved through the crowds and, standing on tiptoe, put her arms around Malcolm. He felt her kiss his cheek before she let him go, looking him up and down. She did not seem to have noticed Hayes.
‘I didn’t know you were coming, Malcolm! You look well. How was space?’ She had asked this each of the few times Malcolm had called his parents from Enterprise , and the question made him smile.
‘Space is enormous, as ever,’ he said. He touched the rank insignia on his uniform. ‘Mother, I was just telling father I was promoted.’
‘Congratulations!’ Mary Reed had moved back to stand next to her husband. ‘And who are you?’ She had finally noticed Hayes. The question was kind.
‘That’s Malcolm’s... guest.’ Malcolm couldn’t tell if the pause was malicious or just confused. If he hadn’t finished the sentence, how would Malcolm have corrected him?
‘Oh! Hello, dear. I’m Malcolm’s mother – Mary. What’s your name?’ His mother had put out her hands, and Hayes took them, leaving Malcolm’s hand feel cold with the lost touch.
‘I’m Jeremiah Hayes.’ Hayes looked unsettled by her kindness, which had to be the only explanation for him introducing himself with his first name.
‘Jeremiah? What a lovely name. It’s biblical, isn’t it?’
‘Old Testament,’ Hayes said. She had placed her hands on his upper arms, looking him up and down, assessing her son’s suitor. ‘One of the prophets. But everyone calls me Hayes.’
‘Then I’ll call you Hayes.’ Her smile hadn’t faltered for a second, and both Malcolm and his father watched them intently. ‘Tell me about you and Malcolm. You must have seen so much more of him lately than we have – did you know he didn’t even tell us what his position was when he was first posted on Enterprise? – come come, walk with me. Let’s give Malcolm a few minutes alone with his father.’
The silence spread out between father and son, despite the din of the party. Malcolm swallowed.
‘You were promoted.’ Repeated, it wasn’t quite a question, nor a statement. It wavered between the two, hanging in the air.
‘Only a couple of weeks ago. After the ceremony. I don’t know where I’ll be posted yet.‘ He wasn’t sure if his father would ask the question of where he would go, or if he even would care, but it felt like he should say it. ‘Until then, I think I’ll be in Pasadena.’
He hadn’t meant to say that. He didn’t know he was about to say that. Dammit, he didn’t even know that he had decided. He should really talk to Hayes.
‘Pasadena?’ His father’s eyes were raised, nonplussed. ‘I didn’t know Starfleet had expanded to over there.’
‘They haven’t,’ and Malcolm licked his lips, suddenly nauseatingly nervous, ‘but it’s where the MACO-Starfleet initiative will be based. Hayes will be stationed there. So I think I will be there, too.’
Saying it out loud made it seem silly: how he had pushed against the conversation, how he hadn’t been willing to think about it when the answer had been there all along. And then, how stupid he was to tell his father – of all people! – when it was Hayes he should tell.
Stuart Reed looked at his son, long and quiet.
‘Are you happy?’ This question, Malcolm understood, symbolised all the questions his father had never asked him. Are you happy at school? Are you happy at home? Are you happy at Starfleet? Are you happy to be far away from your family? Are you happy with this man?
‘I am.’
His father finally nodded. It was clear he didn’t approve – not of his relationship, not of his career, not of any decision Malcolm had ever made – but it was equally clear that he did not care enough about his son to pick a fight.
‘I have duties to attend to. If you’ll excuse me.’
Malcolm was alone for a moment before he looked around the room, searching for his sister, his mother, Hayes. He saw the gold of the MACO uniform and soon found Hayes and his mother, pleasantly discussing nothing at all. He felt awkward joining them, as though being part of this conversation would bring it down.
‘Did your father run off, Malcolm?’ Mary smiled at him as she had when he was young, and she would sneak him pineapple sweets despite his father forbidding them. ‘Typical Admiral Reed! Jeremiah was telling me about when you served together. You must have been awfully brave.’
Malcolm felt Hayes’ hand on his back, a strangely reassuring gesture he had not expected.
‘I’m sure he’s exaggerating. He did at least as much as I did. I don’t think we would have succeeded in the Xindi mission without him.’ It had taken a long time for Malcolm to accept that, but now when he tried to imagine how they could have survived without the MACOs in general, and Hayes in particular, he was unable to picture it.
‘I wasn’t exaggerating,’ Hayes said but didn’t elaborate. There was no more talk of Malcolm’s so-called braveries, just pleasant chit-chat about the weather and California and what the MACO-Starfleet coordination may entail. And, too, Hayes’ hand on Malcolm’s back, warm and caressing and supporting. When Malcolm’s mother spotted a diplomat she hadn’t spoken to since 2147 – good gracious, is it fourteen years already? – Malcolm let her go, allowing her an embrace and a kiss on the cheek. Once she had disappeared, Hayes kissed him, quick enough for it to barely count, but enough for Malcolm to melt into the touch.
‘I wanted to do that for a while,’ he said, the hand dropping from his back, ‘but I didn’t want to scandalise your parents.’
‘You’re awful.’ Malcolm said this with no conviction. He permitted another kiss. Soon they would talk. It was long overdue.
They didn’t stay too long after that, another hour of polite greetings to people Malcolm vaguely remembered from his childhood and officers that Hayes had met once or twice. It was strange how many of his father’s friends Hayes knew. If they had met through Stuart Reed, not on Enterprise, where would they be now? Certainly not together. His father would never have allowed it. When they left, Madeline embraced them both.
‘Don’t be a stranger,’ she told Malcolm. She turned to Hayes. ‘If you hurt my brother you’ll have to answer to me, you hear.’
‘Loud and clear, ma’am,’ he replied, but he was grinning. He accepted a second hug.
As they walked, Malcolm tried to calm his nerves and get out what he had been wanting to say since he spoke to his father. Several times, he opened his mouth but the words refused to come. Hayes walked at a leisurely pace, looking around the streets with one hand at his side and the other laid behind his back. Even with no one but Malcolm there, he didn’t let up his military rigour. It was one of the things he admired and resented the most. Hayes was not the sort of man to let his hair down. He was responsible, mature, and restrained. And, for some reason that he could not quite understand but for which he was very grateful, Hayes put up with Malcolm’s neuroses and bouts of madness.
‘What time is it in Pasadena?’
‘What?’ Hayes stopped and looked back from a few steps ahead of Malcolm. When they had first met Hayes had always kept pace with Malcolm or stayed half a step behind, like a dog heeling for his owner. After he left Enterprise, he kept up with that habit for the first few years, respectful and cautious. As time passed, he stopped doing this and would frequently end up several paces ahead, now and then stopping for Malcolm to catch up. ‘Morning. I’d say nine thirty?’
‘Maybe you should call procurement.’ Uncertain what to do, he took a step forward and adjusted Hayes’ tie, letting his hand rest on his chest. ‘If you’d like me to.’
‘If I’d like you to...?’ Hayes prompted, placing his hand over Malcolm’s.
‘If you’d like me to live with you,’ he mumbled in one quick breath, staring at their hands, not daring to look up at him. Then Hayes’s fingers tipped his chin up, and the soft smile on his face, and Malcolm’s heart was full.
‘Will do, sir.’ He kissed him, soft and slow, caressing his cheek with his thumb. Hayes didn’t seem concerned that they were in public, blocking the sidewalk and inconveniencing their fellow pedestrians. He paused for a moment, the tip of his tongue flicking out to wet his lips. He spoke. ‘I love you.’
They had never said those words before. For the longest time, they had stayed clear of any sign of affection, trying to keep cool and professional even when they were anything but. Intimacy and tenderness has trickled in, slowly growing until Malcolm felt pretty sure that Hayes really had to care a lot about him or else he would’ve left already and not wanting to talk about his own feelings – deep, intense and a little frightening – Malcolm had decided they didn’t need to talk at all. But the answer was pretty clear.
‘I love you.’ Malcolm replied, without a moment’s hesitation.