Work Text:
Malcolm frowned as soon as he set foot in his quarters. Someone had been in here, and recently. Whoever it was, they were gone now. Nothing was amiss- everything was where he left it. Except for a book, which hadn't been on his desk when he left for his shift this morning. Cautiously, Malcolm stepped towards the desk. He started when he saw exactly what it was. A book of poetry. British poetry, to be more precise- he could recognise Andrew Marvell's name from a mile away.
Malcolm's eyes flicked to the poem that was highlighted on the open page.
"To His Coy Mistress
Had we but world enough and time,
This coyness, lady, were no crime.
We would sit down, and think which way
To walk, and pass our long love's day.
Thou by the Indian Ganges' side
Shouldst rubies find; I by the tide
Of Humber would complain. I would
Love you ten years before the flood,
And you should, if you please, refuse
Till the conversion of the Jews..."
Malcolm stopped reading. He sat down at the desk, his mind racing. Someone had broken into his quarters... to leave him a love poem? The first question that popped into his head was why? Why would someone go to all this trouble to get Malcolm's attention? They certainly did so quite well, he had to admit. The next question was who? The only two people who had the security codes for Malcolm's quarters were Captain Archer and Doctor Phlox. And neither man had ever expressed a romantic interest in the same sex, as far Malcolm knew anyway.
Wait!
There was Commander Tucker. Trip had been acting rather odd around Malcolm lately. And while he didn't have Malcolm's security codes, he was an engineer- an expert engineer at that. It made sense that he could easily have broken into Malcolm's quarters.
The armoury officer moved from his chair and stepped out into the corridor. He squinted at the control panel on the wall and sure enough, there was a fresh layer of Trip's preferred valve sealant lining it. Malcolm couldn't help but smile. If Trip was willing to risk getting a beat down from him for breaking into his quarters of all places, then the Southerner must really be head over heels.
Not to mention Trip wasn't in the slightest into this kind of literature- and yet he went out of his way to find it for Malcolm.
The fact that Trip chose an odd yet equally sweet way to express his affection was heartwarming (though Malcolm wouldn't admit it). And, if the truth be known, the Lieutenant had begun to feel... something for the blonde engineer. Malcolm wasn't quite ready to attach a name to it yet. His smile widened imperceptibly as another thought popped up. Trip was on duty for another hour or so. So the armoury officer had more than enough time, if he used it carefully. He closed the door to his quarters and took a deep breath as he headed for Ensign Fisher's quarters.
This was going to be one hell of a bargaining session.
When Trip plopped down in front of his desk, he wasn't expecting to see an open comic book sitting on it. His eyes landed on the panel that had been circled in bright red marker- a panel of Batman and Catwoman kissing. What? Why... who?... The engineer then spotted the words right below the panel.
I'm called an armoury officer for a reason, you know.
"My vegetable love should grow
Vaster than empires and more slow;
An hundred years should go to praise
Thine eyes, and on thy forehead gaze;
Two hundred to adore each breast,
But thirty thousand to the rest;
An age at least to every part,
And the last age should show your heart.
For, lady, you deserve this state,
Nor would I love at lower rate."
Trip laughed out loud, a wide grin appearing on his face. Not only because the armoury officer wasn't ripping out his spleen (or worse), but also because Malcolm seemed to return the affection. The Southerner leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, still smiling.
Maybe, just maybe, this could work out.
~Fin~