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After leaving Shran’s quarters, Archer goes straight to sickbay to have his neck checked out, cupping his hand over the spot to unsubtly hide it from anyone he might pass on the way. He didn’t think Shran cut too deep, only pressed enough to lightly puncture, but it wasn’t worth the risk to ignore.
He spends his entire walk there trying to think of a believable lie for how he achieved such a specific injury.
When he arrives, he decides to simply tell the truth. Doctor-patient confidentiality and whatnot.
“Captain Archer!” Phlox greets cheerfully before noticing the peculiar pose Archer is in and correctly assumes he’s here as a patient rather than anything else. “How may I be of assistance?”
“Shran broke a bottle. Then threatened me with it. Nicked my throat.”
Phlox gives Archer a look of consternation before gesturing for him to sit on the examining table. Archer obliges, walking over before sitting down and dropping his hand away from his neck.
Phlox hums thoughtfully as he examines the cut. It’s small, but still weeping beads of blood, particularly in rhythm with Archer’s pulse.
“Not to worry,” Phlox declares, moving to one of his various cabinets and retrieving a sanitizing wipe and a small tin of coagulating agent. He returns to Archer’s side and cleans up the blood gently and efficiently, Archer wincing at the cleansing sting, before Phlox is opening the tin and dabbing the translucent substance over the cut. Pleased with his work, Phlox returns the tin and disposes of the wipe.
“Thanks, Phlox,” Archer says warmly before sliding off the examination table to stand. He starts off toward the sickbay doors.
“Captain,” Phlox calls after hesitating briefly. Archer stops and turns to face him again. “If I may... I realize this might not be my place to ask, but, ehh, why exactly would Commander Shran be threatening you with makeshift weapons?”
Archer sighs. “It’s a long story.”
Phlox shrugs. “I’ve got time.”
Archer weighs his options. Phlox would probably be the best first person to confide in. Not only was he a kind, sympathetic ear, but he was also under oath to keep anything revealed to himself.
“Shran and I… we’re…” Archer struggles to find the words. What even are they?
He sighs again, bringing his hand up to pinch at the bridge of his nose.
“He and I may be starting a relationship.”
The sentence tumbles out almost all at once and Archer is blushing. He drops his hand down to his side again and tries to meet Phlox’s gaze but is too embarrassed to be able to hold the eye contact for long. He shifts his weight from foot to foot.
Phlox’s brow shoots upward in surprise at that.
“Ah. I see. Well, rest assured, your secret is safe with me.”
He pauses.
“If you like, I can look into potential cross-species vectors for disease.”
Archer hadn’t even considered that. Perhaps it was a good thing he confided in Phlox before anything more happened between him and Shran.
“Sure,” Archer answers tersely, still feeling a little embarrassed. “Thank you, doctor.”
Archer makes another attempt to leave. He gets all the way to the doors this time before he’s interrupted again.
“Oh, and Captain,” Phlox adds just before Archer leaves. Archer doesn’t turn around this time, just looks over his shoulder at Phlox from where he stands at the sickbay doors. “Good luck. And be careful.”
Archer nods in acknowledgement, both appreciating Phlox’s sentiments and feeling uneasy over them.
~*~
The rest of the day goes by dreadfully slowly. Archer busies himself with routine work: mission reports, going over inventory, duty rosters, and anything else he can do to both distract himself as well as be productive.
Despite immersing himself in his work, the exchanges he had with Shran over the last few days continue to replay in his mind. He thinks about how often they fought and made up, how Shran could so easily flip from friend to foe to the point that he practically danced on the fine line between them, how tender their first kiss was, how erotic Shran’s overture was, and how distressingly complex their dynamic was and still is.
Archer said he wanted to love him.
And Shran offered to be a willing teacher.
Jonathan Archer can count on one hand the number of partners he’s had that he both truly loved, and admitted it to. Sometimes he tried too hard to force love that wasn’t there. Sometimes he took too long to admit it and they left.
He supposes he can add Shran to that list now.
~*~
Shran wakes the next morning, slowly cracking his eyes open. An annoying blinking from the computer at his desk captures his attention in the dark of the room. He glares at it for a moment before he stirs and rises, moving to sit himself at the desk and determine the cause of the irritating blinking.
A specially encrypted message, presumably from Archer.
Shran wasn’t sure if the secrecy was due to embarrassment, shame, or paranoia. Perhaps a combination of the three. Shran tries not to let it bother him.
He opens the message and is greeted very plainly with a time and location.
2200, my quarters.