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Noise swirled around the crowded mess hall. Every so often the pulsating lights changed colour, drawing whoops from the revellers crowding the makeshift dancefloor. Occasionally, the sharpest ear might catch the sickening crrrunch of a party popper beneath a heel. This was the last party the crew of the starship Enterprise would ever throw aboard, and they were determined to go out with a bang.
Only one slight, spare figure sat apart.
Almost swathed in the shadows, his profile highlighted now and then as the stars streaked across the nearside viewport, Lieutenant-Commander Malcolm Reed might have appeared isolated as the noise, colour and chaos washed over him. His hands folded on the table he stared down, utterly fixated on his own fingers. If he noticed the subordinates smiling as they passed, he gave no sign.
They took no offence. Ten years’ service with the Senior Tactical and Armoury Officer had given most a clear insight into the character of that most reserved of men. When he wanted solitude, they could be generous – and sensitive – enough to grant it.
Mostly.
Wrapped in his thoughts he completely missed her stealthy approach; knew nothing until her breath brushed his cheek, the warmth of her body seeping through the smallest of professional distances into his. “In case you’ve forgotten… you’re supposed to be enjoying your special day, Mister Reed.”
“I am enjoying it.” There was no heat in her words, and he matched the low, teasing tone, blinking their surroundings back into focus before meeting her bird-bright dark gaze. “We can’t all be leading conga lines ‘round the ship, you know.”
“Thankfully.” She followed the line down which his eyes were magnetically drawn and smiled, savouring the glow wonderment brought to his handsome, sharp-angled face. “They were last seen passing Sickbay, if you’re interested. They’ll be back...”
“Imminently.” The two sharpest non-pointed ears aboard detected it at the same moment, the muffled boom of raucous approaching merriment before the main doors swooshed open and the whole engineering staff, led by their exuberant chief, came dancing through.
“Everybody has their own way of celebrating, I guess.” She felt his glance flicker over her before it settled on her neighbour: and if he’d been glowing before, Reed was positively radiant now. “You deserve it, Malcolm – all of it. Never forget that, however blessed you feel. He’s way luckier, because you had the patience to wait.”
“Can I have that in writing?” He was heading toward them, breaking free of his team’s backslaps and embraces with a visible effort, flushed as much by embarrassment as exertion. Giving the Englishman’s shoulder a light squeeze Hoshi slipped back into the shadows, mentally counting off the seconds until a more welcome intruder could take her place.
One...two...three…
“Hey, darlin’.” Breathless, Commander Charles Tucker the Third moved into her vacated chair and sealed the small gap between their bodies as he leaned in to peck the peak of the Englishman’s chiselled cheekbone. “Sorry to’ve been gone so long. Hess wanted us to carry on up t’ the bridge but I said – no way! Gotta keep my strength up. I’ve got a biiig night tonight.”
“You didn’t!” Hoshi wouldn’t have put it past the man: and given the gust of horrified laughter that blew out the words, neither did the person who knew him best. Tucker chuckled.
“Hell, I’ve got way better things to do than wind up making friends with Phlox’s homicidal bat on my wedding night. What do you think?” he asked, shifting his hand to rest alongside the other man’s, identical gold bands glinting under the strobing lights. Twin smiles curled their mouths.
“Can you believe it, Malcolm?” Trip murmured, dipping his head in so close to whisper the words even the best-equipped of eavesdroppers barely caught them. “We’re really married!”
“I still can’t believe we’ve been… together for six years.” Gently Reed captured his husband’s left hand in his, turning them palms together so the broad metal bands could kiss at the base of their fingers. Tucker let their lips follow suit, and for an instant Hoshi was ashamed of herself. The moment was precious; the intimacy palpable. She shouldn’t be watching.
She couldn’t tear herself away.
No one had been unduly surprised when Commander Tucker asked the captain to perform a certain significant service as Enterprise cruised home for the last time. If there had been whispers of doubt in the early days – the uninitiated wondering how such polar opposites could hope to sustain a lasting relationship beyond mutual (and comprehensible) physical attraction – they’d long since been forgotten. Despite their differences, Trip and Malcolm worked.
All of those differences had been exposed by their wedding day: for while the blond American had capered about the ship wreathed in smiles, right at the heart of all the noisiest end-of-mission celebrations, the dark-haired Brit remained serenely on the sidelines, watching everything with that faint, sardonic smile while the long fingers of his right hand toyed absently with the new adornment to his left. She wasn’t the only one, Hoshi suspected, who had looked at him and wondered: is he really enjoying his biggest day?
Now, she knew he had. In his own quiet way, simply watching his husband being boisterous among their friends, Malcolm Reed was the happiest man in the quadrant.
With the possible exception of the one who’d married him.
Hoshi leaned forward, captivated by the sight of the two men gazing in awe at the symbols of a lifetime’s commitment. “I’m so honoured t’ have you as my husband, Malcolm Reed,” Trip murmured, bringing the smaller man’s elegant hand to his mouth. “You know I don’t deserve you, right?”
“I’m sure there’ll be times I’ll remind you of that, dear.” The broad gold band was less fascinating now. Malcolm couldn’t tear his eyes away from the beautiful face of his new spouse. Hoshi clapped a hand over her mouth to stop the giggle working up the back of her throat. “And if I don’t… perhaps the captain might do it for me.”
“Or T’Pol. Or Travis. Or Hoshi.” Tucker laughed, oddly self-conscious despite the intimacy of the moment. “Hell, or any other member ‘f the crew!”
“I’m fairly certain they’d say the same to me. Or they ought to.” From the corner of his eye Reed caught the smallest swift movement: Hoshi, he gathered, hovering to ensure all was well – or gratifying her odd, sentimental fascination with his love life.
There had been a time when the ship-wide interest had troubled him: but those days, with Trip’s ring on his finger, were long gone. Slowly, careful to stretch out the kink in his spine from prolonged sitting Malcolm eased himself upright, carrying his husband’s hand with him. “Now, d’ you think we’ve made ourselves available for long enough?”
“Damn, I love it when you’re eager!”
The dirtiest chuckle Hoshi Sato had ever heard twirled through the din, and every head in the vicinity turned toward it. “Darling, after your little taste of what’s to come while they were resetting the room after the ceremony, how could I not be eager? We’re not going to be allowed a discreet exit, are we?”
“Nope.” Trip’s bottom lip stuck out half a light year as he followed his husband to his feet. “But if you’re wantin’ a ride, I’ll make it worth your while...”
“Ooohh promises, promises!” Of its own will Malcolm’s body swayed into the bigger man’s, his dazzling smile indicating that forthcoming humiliation had already slipped out of his head. “Ready to go, Commander Tucker-Reed?”
“Always, Lieutenant-Commander Reed-Tucker.” Gently easing his man out into the writhing throng on the dancefloor Trip squared his shoulders, visibly steeling himself.
It was hardly, Hoshi considered, shrinking back into her corner, a sight to raise a reticent partner’s spirits, but the teasing titles had an uncanny effect on the Englishman. Malcolm swelled noticeably: chest out; shoulders back. As he picked his way through the crowd, hand locked firmly in his husband’s, the lightly built armoury officer appeared twenty centimetres taller.
Even the good-natured halloos that signalled his department’s farewell bounced off him as if he were wrapped in a personalised E.M. force field, and when Trip grabbed him by the waist, histrionically dipping him for a passionate public smooch, his creamy complexion barely tinged with peach. Hoshi squeezed her way through the jostling, waving melee of her shipmates in time to take one last quick picture of the newlyweds, locked in each other’s arms beneath the massive red-white-and-blue Congratulations, Trip and Malcolm banner Travis had spent the last week getting right.
“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking.”
Jonathan Archer’s holler earned a cacophony of good-natured jeering and his craggy features split with a massive grin. “Okay, you probably know my voice by now,” he acknowledged easily. “Trip – Malcolm – before you head off, I wanted to thank you for making our last day as a family so special.”
Cheers rang out and both men shuffled awkwardly. Archer spared them a fond smile.
“Now I understand you’re eager to get away…” more boisterous cheering “…but before you do, I want to thank you – every one of you – for every day of the last ten years. It’s been one hell of a ride, and it’s been an honour to serve as your captain.”
From somewhere in the midst of the throng a slightly slurred voice bawled out. “Three cheers for Cap’n Archer! Hip-hip…”
As the hoorays rang around the mess hall, the newlyweds let out synchronised small sighs. “Nice t’ see someone else gettin’ it for a minute,” Tucker breathed.
“It won’t last.”
Pessimistic to a fault, Reed’s prediction was confirmed in the deafening silence that followed the final cheer. Archer cleared his throat and continued.
“Thank you. As Enterprise’s designated daddy, I’ve got to admit I’m sorry to see you all leaving home to take on the universe in your own individual ways. And I think we can all agree, knowing these two lovebirds of ours are going to be taking it on together… the universe doesn’t stand a chance!”
“Why thank you kindly, Cap’n.” Trip hugged his husband closer, shielding the smaller man in the lee of his body while Malcolm buried a burning face – and a beaming smile – in the crook of his neck. “We ‘ppreciate that, don’t we, darlin’?”
“Oh of course.” Shudders of laughter rippling through him Malcolm twisted to face his delirious colleagues, pausing a moment to be sure of their full attention before delivering the perfectly timed coup de grace. “But if you will excuse us, my husband’s just promised me the ride of my life, and I’m getting quite… impatient. Goodnight!”
The whoosh of the doors in their wake sliced like Chef’s best carving knife through the stunned silence gripping what felt like the whole of Enterprise. In its aftermath, Hoshi Sato didn’t need her keen linguist’s ear to hear Trip Tucker’s trademark, exuberant bellow.
“Sonofabitch! Well let’s go get me saddled up, cowboy!”