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Malcolm was right on time, but couldn't bring himself to ring the door chime. He stood outside Hoshi’s door, reaching to ring, then pausing to adjust his uniform zip. A sudden memory assailed him of doing the same before breakfast with the captain - before a Romulan mine had shot a steel rod through his leg - and he quickly dropped his hand. This was not the same kind of situation at all - and anyway, Hoshi had been thrown across the bridge when the first mine had gone off.
No, wait, that's not helping, either! Annoyed with himself, he pinched his arm, hard, as a distraction from his thoughts, then stiffened as a pair of crewmen walked past, glancing at him curiously as he stood there indecisively.
He wasn’t sure why he was so nervous; this wasn’t a date, after all - Hoshi had merely used the promise of finally cooking him her enchiladas to calm him so he wouldn’t panic during their harrowing escape from the flooded caves. It'd been an inspired idea on her part, using what was an embarrassing moment for both of them to distract him from the terror of being trapped underwater; but they’d brought it up enough times during the escape that it had turned into a de facto expectation from both sides.
They were colleagues, and were well on the way to becoming friends, despite his reservations about fraternising with both junior and senior officers. But no more than that. So there was no reason for him to have any nerves. It was probably the 'fraternisation' part that was messing with his head; he could just imagine what his father would have had to say about him having dinner alone with a junior officer in her quarters, let alone having had a (disastrous) breakfast with his captain!
Having dinner with Ensign Sato - Hoshi - was the least he could do to thank her for saving his life, and in such a calm, clever manner, too. The young woman was remarkably cool-headed under duress, despite her initial trepidation when they’d joined Enterprise and the fears he’d helped dispel when he’d gently induced her to trust him with her safety during their confinement in an alien prison. His later work with her to improve her shooting and hand-to-hand combat skills had also helped grow her confidence.
A delicious aroma drifted out from under Hoshi's door and wafted past Malcolm's nose, interrupting his thoughts, and suddenly he was ravenous. He pressed the chime and heard her call for him to come in. She turned toward the door as it slid open, a spatula in her hand and a smile on her lovely face as she stood in front of the hotplate situated on her desk.
"Lieutenant! Right on time," she greeted. "I'm about to finish up here and let the enchiladas settle while we start with salad. Would you mind if I put you to work while I get that ready?"
Her light, matter-of-fact tone went a long way to putting him at ease, and he felt himself relaxing. The fact that, like him, she was still wearing her uniform instead of being dressed in casual clothing, was also reassuring; she clearly didn't think of this as anything other than colleagues having dinner - a huge relief to Malcolm's unsettled mind.
"Not at all, Hoshi," he agreed, watching as she looked a little startled, then grinned at his use of her first name. "What would you like me to do?"
"Would you fill the glasses, please? I have sparkling water and mango juice." She indicated a tiny table under the viewing port, adorned with a piece of jewel-toned red-and-pink fabric and set with pretty red-and-white salad bowls, clear glasses with red rims, and cutlery with red enamel handles. The dinner plates were on the desk, awaiting the main meal.
Malcolm brought his arm out from behind his back, showing her the bottle he'd been concealing. "I hope you don't mind, but I managed to acquire some pineapple juice," he said. "I'd have brought wine, but since we have the early shift, I thought it might not be the best idea."
"That's very sweet of you - it'll probably go very well with the enchiladas and help to cut the richness. I made them without cheese and the sour cream's on the side, so you don't have to worry about dairy."
Malcolm was touched; he hadn't been very sure what went into enchiladas, but he recalled hearing about excessive amounts of cheese, and had resigned himself to an uncomfortable night because of it.
"You don't know how much I appreciate that," he said gratefully. "I can't believe you remembered, but the fact that you did means a lot."
The communications officer gave him a soft smile before turning back to the salad bowl, mixing in various greens, tomatoes, corn, and red and yellow peppers. "I like to keep in mind my friends' dietary preferences," she said. "And I'd like you to enjoy the enchiladas, which wouldn't happen if you had a reaction to the dairy."
"Well, it's very thoughtful of you, so thank you." This close to the table, he could see that the dishes and tumblers weren't china or glass, but a type of polymer, less likely to crack or break should they be thrown around in turbulence. Very likely some sort of picnic set. He filled each of the glasses with pineapple juice and set aside the bottle as Hoshi brought the salad over to the table and placed a balsamic dressing in the centre.
Malcolm politely remained standing until Hoshi had seated herself, then sat and raised his glass for a toast. "To my lovely hostess, for showing courage in dire circumstances, remaining cool-headed in the face of danger, and especially for saving my panicked behind when I couldn't think straight."
Hoshi blushed. "I can't toast myself," she demurred, "so let me toast a guest who's encouraging, thoughtful, brave, and quietly funny." Her eyes twinkled as they toasted each other before she passed him the salad bowl and tongs.
"I don't think there's anything you can't eat in that, but if there's something you'd prefer not to, let me know," she instructed.
Malcolm let out an amused huff as he scooped salad into his bowl. "I eat most things - sometimes even dairy, when I'm feeling daring - so don't worry too much," he reassured her. "And I've had a new allergy shot for pineapple, in any event." He waited for her to serve and dress her own salad before digging in.
"Is there anything you don't eat, then?" Hoshi inquired, raising her eyebrows inquisitively. "Or rather, anything that you don't like to eat?"
"Let's see - you know I dislike the taste of green pepper, since I ask Chef to remove it from the mango chicken." They shared a smirk before he continued, "I'm not the biggest fan of fish, though now and then I do enjoy the occasional shellfish, especially oysters. The best I ever had was at an obscure little restaurant in Malaysia - oysters and rice noodles poached in clam juice, with fresh chillies and lemongrass." He sipped his pineapple juice, eyes going a little soft as he reminisced. "I still think about the way that tasted, over a decade later."
"That must have been amazing, if you're still thinking about it after so long."
"Oh, there are certain memories that are locked in," Malcolm said mildly. "Some not-so-pleasant ones, of course, but I try to focus on the more agreeable recollections."
Hoshi nodded. "Thank goodness for the better memories, right? And the way the smallest thing can bring them back - a sound, a scent, a glimpse from the corner of the eye." She rose, collecting the salad bowls, and Malcolm didn't have the heart to tell her that more often than not, he found the less pleasant memories triggered instead of the happier ones.
He watched appreciatively, mouth watering, as she switched off the hotplate, slid enchiladas onto two plates and brought them over to the table. "Tuck in before they get cold," she encouraged him. "I wasn't sure how spicy you like your food, so I erred on the side of caution." She topped hers with sour cream, cilantro, more sauce, and spring onions from small bowls laid out between their plates. "I couldn't get any avocado, unfortunately, so I substituted with pineapple. Not a normal enchilada topping, I know, but given the company, I'm sure it won't be a problem."
Malcolm grinned. "Pineapple as a substitute? No problem at all," he assured her. "After all, I'm one of the few people on board who firmly believes that pineapple belongs on pizza." So saying, he followed her example with the toppings, aside from the sour cream, and scattered pineapple generously over his portion.
Hoshi covered her mouth, giggling as she chewed, until she managed to swallow her mouthful. Emerging from behind her hand, her eyes sparkling with merriment, she pretended to look around furtively, and whispered, "Count me as part of the pineapple-on-pizza brigade."
He burst out laughing at her antics, leaning forward and murmuring, with a wink, "Your secret's safe with me." His first bite of enchilada went down smoothly, as he savoured the richness of the sauce and the slight bite of the chillies; the cilantro complemented the flavours perfectly and the sweet tartness of the pineapple added an extra dimension to the taste. He had a few more bites as Hoshi watched him a little anxiously, before setting down his utensils and patting his mouth with his napkin.
"Delicious," he proclaimed. "I'm glad you managed to get dhanya, I haven't had the fresh leaves in so long. And you don't have to worry about the spice level, I enjoy spicy food from living in Malaysia for a few years, and travelling throughout South East Asia."
Hoshi looked a little puzzled, then her face cleared. "Dunn-ee-ya," she pronounced carefully. "The cilantro?"
He nodded. "The colloquial name for fresh coriander leaves - cilantro, as Americans call it. It's very different from the flavour of coriander spice, as I'm sure you're aware. The term dhanya is used throughout South East Asia and wherever there are large Indian populations or Malay culture outside of India or Malaysia - like South Africa." He caught himself and grinned. "Lecture over - let's just applaud the fact that we're among the lucky few who don't have the gene that makes it taste like soap."
She chuckled. "Thank goodness for that! Soap is a poor substitute for the flavour of dhanya." She pronounced it flawlessly the second time around.
For a while they ate in companionable silence, simply enjoying the meal. Malcolm felt himself relaxing even more, realising that Hoshi didn't seem pressured to fill the quiet. Finally he laid his knife and fork on his empty plate, feeling sated.
"That was delicious, Hoshi," he praised. "You were right, I do like your enchiladas. And the pineapple was a nice touch."
The ensign smiled, swallowing her last bite and dabbing at her lips with her napkin. "I'm very glad you liked them, and that the substitution met with your approval. It was a bit of make-do, but one thing I've learned is to work with what's on hand."
"A good trait to have, in cooking and self-defence." He winked. "Environmental opportunistic weapons come in handy, or as I like to put it, anything's a weapon if you throw it hard enough."
Hoshi let out a crack of surprised laughter. "So if the phase pistol stops working I should throw it at the enemy?"
"Preferably not," Malcolm deadpanned, "because Murphy would probably decide that that's the time to make it start working again! Anything else heavy enough, though, go wild."
She grinned. "I'll do just that, should the need arise - but I hope it doesn't! My aim in throwing is even worse than with a phase pistol in hand. Though at least I'm improving the latter." Setting down her napkin, she began gathering the dishes, and Malcolm rose to help her, forestalling her protests.
"You cooked, so I'll wash and dry the dishes while you sort out your hotplate and take the leftovers to the galley refrigerator. It's only fair," he reassured her, raising an imperious eyebrow when she opened her mouth to protest again. She shut it after a moment and pulled a face, wrinkling her nose - it was endearing, he thought, but didn't say. The ensign would probably not take kindly to hearing that she looked adorable when she did that, and he didn't want to annoy her - she might not cook for him again. And yes, he realised, he wanted to experience this again, having someone do something nice for him and being in their company without feeling the need to be on or mask his social awkwardness.
"Alright, and thank you," Hoshi capitulated. "Enchiladas taste even better the next day, so I'll have these for breakfast." He nodded, smiling as he gathered the dishes and prepared to take them to the bathroom for washing. "No remarks about having dinner for breakfast?"
"I'm partial to a bit of leftover curry and roti in the mornings myself, so whatever floats your boat, as the saying goes." Malcolm vanished behind the screen, heading for the bathroom, and she heard water running as he filled the sink.
Hoshi scraped the remaining enchiladas into a small dish that matched the plates, then gathered the ramekins and serving utensils she'd borrowed from the kitchen. "I'll be back in a few minutes," she called, and heard an affirmative from the bathroom before heading out. By the time she'd returned, Malcolm had stacked the dried dishes on the table and was busy washing the skillet and eating utensils. Alerting him of her return, Hoshi carefully packed away the dishes in their padded picnic backpack, along with the special cutlery, glasses, and tablecloth.
By then Malcolm had completed the washing up, and helped her fold the tiny picnic table and store it in her cupboard before generally tidying up until everything was in what he assumed was its regular place.
"Thanks, Malcolm," Hoshi remarked. "It's so much easier getting everything ship-shape when there are helping hands."
"You're most welcome," he replied. "It's the least I could do after you went to the trouble of cooking for me and hosting the meal in your quarters."
"We're not done yet, though," Hoshi said, turning to her cupboard and opening a drawer. "I was going to make churros, but I didn't think working with a pot of boiling oil would be a very good idea, so I decided the next best thing would be some chocolate and whiskey; Japanese whisky, that is." She turned, holding a small box in one hand and a bottle of pale amber whisky in the other. "Interested?"
"Intrigued," he said honestly. "I've never had Japanese whisky before."
"Depending on the distillery, it can be as peaty as a single malt Scotch, though I prefer the blends; more floral and fruity, I suppose. I don't claim to be an aficionado, but I enjoy a 'wee drappie' every now and then," she said, mimicking a Scottish accent. "Would you like it neat, on the rocks, or with soda water?"
"Just a touch of water, please, to 'release the tiger', as my grandfather used to say."
Hoshi set down the box and pulled out two whisky tumblers, pouring a generous amount, then adding a splash of water to each before handing one to Malcolm and toasting, "Slainte!"
"Slainte," he responded to the Gaelic toast, gently tapping his glass against hers before taking a measured sip and rolling it across his tongue. It was, indeed, not as peaty as his favourites, but still delicious; lighter, almost honey-like, with a slightly spicy lingering flavour reminiscent of candied orange peel.
Hoshi set down her tumbler and opened the box. It contained eight chocolate truffles in what looked like four flavours - white, milk, dark, and a darker version of dark. "Let's have a seat and enjoy the taste tests, instead of standing around," she suggested, and promptly seated herself at the foot of her bed, kicking off her shoes and crossing her sock-clad ankles. "You can take the chair if you like, or sit on the bed. It's closer to the chocolate." Her eyes laughed at him over the rim of the glass, and with a grin he acquiesced, seating himself in the middle of the bed and leaning against the bulkhead so that the box of chocolate truffles could go between them.
"I haven't had a whisky and chocolate tasting before," he mused, looking down at the chocolate truffles. "What do we do?"
"First, take a sip of the whisky and roll it around in your mouth, across the taste buds, to pick up every flavour you can," Hoshi counselled. She closed her eyes as she followed her own instruction, and Malcolm watched as she tilted her head from side to side, clearly enjoying the taste. When she opened her eyes, he mimicked her, though with a little less head-tilting, watching her in turn and smirking a little as she tried not to giggle.
"Now, chocolate," she said. "Shall we try the white chocolate?"
"Sounds good," Malcolm agreed. "Then we can simply move up the line."
Hoshi reached into the box and removed one of the white truffles, waiting for Malcolm to do the same before taking a bite and immediately closing her eyes. He followed suit, though with eyes open, and savoured the richness of the chocolate on his tongue. Hoshi opened her eyes, took another bite of the chocolate, and then a small sip of whisky, and closed her eyes again.
"Does closing your eyes enhance the flavour?" Malcolm asked diffidently, though he couldn't prevent a note of amusement from entering his tone.
Hoshi's cheeks pinkened as she opened her eyes. "It does for me," she said, a little embarrassed. "It reduces the external stimuli I get from my eyes, and focuses my ears, and that helps me taste a little better." At his quizzical look, she flushed even pinker. "I can't really explain it better than that. It's probably some form of synesthesia."
"I'll try it, then," Malcolm reassured her, and promptly did so, concentrating on the flavour profiles. After a while he opened his eyes to find Hoshi watching him, her teeth worrying at her lower lip.
"Did it do anything?"
"I'm not sure," he replied. "My hearing seemed to sharpen a bit, but I don't know if it made a difference to the taste. I'll try again with a different flavour."
"Okay then," Hoshi said, popping the last of the truffle into her mouth. "Milk chocolate next?"
Following suit, Malcolm nodded. "Let's do it."
They repeated the process, Malcolm closing his eyes with each bite and sip this time. Perhaps it did bring the flavours to the fore, he mused, though having his eyes closed in a room that was not his own had him a little on edge. Still, not as much as he might have expected. He suspected that that was due to the company; the ensign had a way of putting him at ease, although never off guard.
"Oops, the milk chocolate is quite susceptible to melting," he heard Hoshi say, and opened his eyes to see her looking ruefully at her fingertips. "Well, waste not, want not," she shrugged, and promptly stuck her fingers in her mouth to clean them.
Amusement had Malcolm huffing through his nose. "I don't seem to have that problem," he said, wiggling his clean fingertips at her. "Then again, I tend to run a little cooler than most."
"I'm the opposite," Hoshi acknowledged with a grin. "I run hotter, on average. That makes it a little difficult for me when it comes to working with chocolate and pastry."
"Yes, I noticed that you were warmer than I was, when we were sharing body heat in that cell," Malcolm remarked. "It worked in our favour though; that place was freezing, and you kept us both toasty under the blankets." Hoshi ducked her head, and he realised that she was uncomfortable. "Oh. I apologise. I wasn't thinking when I mentioned the—that place," he said quickly. "I didn't mean to dredge up unpleasant memories."
"No, no," she said hastily. "I mean, it was scary, but you were there, so I wasn't alone." She looked up, and he saw that her eyes were a little shiny and damp. "I'm just a bit embarrassed about being so afraid, even with the most dangerous man on the ship at my side. I feel like I should have made a better showing."
His eyebrows rose in surprise at her description. "Well, the most dangerous man on the ship didn't find it at all unusual that you were scared," he said reassuringly. "The circumstances were devilishly uncomfortable, we didn't know what might happen, since we had no contact with Enterprise, and I imagine that was your first time in a prison cell."
Hoshi nodded, wide-eyed. "You've been imprisoned before?"
"Oh yes, more than once," he said easily. "It's never enjoyable, and I wouldn't want to give the impression that it's not concerning, but I am a security officer with years of experience - not always pleasant. And I had a junior officer to protect, after all. That gave me incentive to remain calm and supportive instead of losing my temper."
She flushed and ducked her head again. "I just felt so useless and burdensome," she mumbled. "First you had to deal with me thinking I had frostbite, then with me shrieking in your ear on board that Axanar freighter, and I know that my being sensitive to every sound the ship makes hasn't exactly made people think I can handle it out here in space. And then I got all pathetic and needy in that cell and you had to comfort me like a child."
Malcolm felt another rush of protectiveness, mingled with some frustration that she still seemed to think so little of her competence and a flush of remorse at having once thought that she might not be suited to life on a starship and would be better served by returning to her former linguistics teaching role. Before he could say anything, though, Hoshi rushed into speech once more.
"I'm trying not to denigrate myself, sir, but that's how I felt when we were imprisoned," she said hastily. "I remember your orders from that day, and … well, I think I'm doing better at trusting in my abilities, and your training has helped with that." She looked away and shrugged. "But on that particular day, I was very much in my feelings about being imprisoned and whether I was cut out for space travel." Her lips twitched and she looked back. "So don't worry. It's just that the memory is uncomfortable, that's all."
"Then I apologise for bringing it up," he said regretfully, but she shook her head.
"Don't be. I can't go through life wanting only the comfortable memories; besides, I had to make some adjustments to my thinking, following orders, and I can't forget that instruction, now can I?" Her grin was genuine and the little cloud of despair seemed to have lifted from her. Malcolm decided that she deserved more encouragement.
"You've done a very good job of following those orders, despite the occasional lapse," he praised. "And as an instructor, I'll tell you that it's a pleasure working with someone who's striving to improve their competence and abilities because they want to, not simply to tick off a box." He watched as she ducked her head again, this time in pleased embarrassment, and added, "At the rate you're improving, we'll be moving onto phase rifles soon."
Hoshi's head came up and her eyes sparkled. "Really? I probably shouldn't be so excited to hear that, but I am!"
"And I should be reminding you that weapons are not toys," he said gravely, his serious mien belied by the twinkle in his eye, "but as the armoury officer, I'm not going to pretend that it's not gratifying to see a pupil so enthusiastic about upgrading to a more powerful weapon."
"I'll try to contain my enthusiasm, sir," Hoshi said, raising her glass in a silent toast even as her grin threatened to split her face in two.
"Malcolm," he corrected gently, mimicking her. "Now," he said, returning his attention to the box, "we still have two more chocolate flavours to try. And my hostess went to all the trouble of finding flavours to pair with this delicious whisky. It would be a shame to let them go to waste." So saying, he held out the box so she could nab her dark chocolate truffle, then set it down and plucked out his.
After another round of silent but companionable tasting, the tactical officer nodded. "That's the best one yet," he proclaimed. "Dark chocolate definitely pairs well with this whisky. I wonder how it would taste with something peatier."
"Quite well, I'd imagine," Hoshi mused. "This is seventy percent dark chocolate, just on the edge of bitterness. I bet it would handle a peaty whisky much better than a milk or white chocolate. Both of those might be too sweet."
Malcolm nodded thoughtfully. "Last one," he said, looking into the box. "It looks like another dark chocolate."
"It's a coffee dark chocolate," Hoshi said. "I thought the coffee flavour might pair well with the whisky."
"That's very likely," he conceded. "Let's give it a try."
Several long minutes later, Hoshi broke the silence. "I think the lack of words said all there was to say, don't you?"
Malcolm nodded, still savouring the flavours of the dark chocolate, coffee, and whisky as they faded slowly from his mouth. "That was an excellent final round," he agreed. "Great choice of flavours there at the end."
"I'm glad you liked it," she smiled, then downed the last swallow of her whisky. "Would you like a nightcap?"
He looked at his chronometer and shook his head ruefully. "I think it's time for me to leave, actually," he said apologetically. "It's a bit later than I'd expected."
"Oh dear, yes - it didn't feel quite this late," Hoshi exclaimed, looking at the time. "I guess time flies when you're having fun."
Malcolm chuckled and drained his glass before standing. "Thank you again for cooking for me, and for the very relaxed evening. It was lovely having no expectations placed on me other than enjoying the food - which was delicious, by the way - and the company."
"You're most welcome," his hostess smiled, rising to her feet and taking the glass from him to place both on her desk. "I personally enjoyed the little moments of silence, too. My life is full of talking and listening, and sometimes it's nice to just be, and experience, without feeling the need to fill silences."
"Quite frankly I appreciated the silences," Malcolm said quietly as he turned toward the door. "It's not often that silences aren't uncomfortable. I think I'll be able to fall asleep pretty easily tonight; my system's not as on edge as usual. I can only attribute that to the calmness of the evening."
Hoshi grinned. "In that case, I hope you fall asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow. I know I will." She pressed the button to open the door. "Good night, Malcolm, and thanks for being such an agreeable dinner companion. I'll see you tomorrow."
He nodded and stepped through the door, giving her a little smile as it slid shut behind him. As he walked to his quarters, he wondered how he could properly thank the ensign for her kindness. He'd have to put his mind to the task. It was only polite, after all.