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Malcolm gently slapped Trip on the arm to get his attention before pointing at an alien among the crowd. They had pale skin with a slight orange tinge, white hair that reached their chin. They had their back to him. “She looks interesting,” Malcolm whispered.
Trip craned his neck to try and see who he was pointing at, then smirked. “You sure ‘she’ is the right pronoun, Malcolm?”
Malcolm’s smile faded. “Well, I don’t know! Why should these aliens even go by human genders in the first place?” He leaned back against the bar with a huff. They’d come here to unwind, but Malcolm could feel himself growing tenser by the minute. Perhaps this had been a bad idea. To put on a straight face—pun not intended—and agree to a guy’s night out with his best friend, and the secret object of his affections. Affections that were unlikely if not impossible to be returned.
“I mean,” Trip shrugged, “if you wanna find out for yourself…” He moved to raise his hand.
Malcolm took his arm and forcibly lowered it. “On second thought, perhaps I’d rather stay ignorant.”
Trip laughed.
A waitress came around brandishing drinks, and Trip and Malcolm each took one. They were extravagant little things, with a toothpick of various fruits inside the bubbling liquid.
“Now, I’m pretty sure that’s a she,” Trip said then.
Malcolm raised his head. “Hm?”
“The waitress!” Trip rolled his eyes playfully. “Whatever. Why don’t we toast?”
“What should we drink to?” Malcolm asked.
Trip glanced around, considering, and a smile spread across his lips. “To us,” he said, raising his glass. “And to a well-earned shore leave.”
They clinked glasses and each took a sip. Malcolm looked Trip out of the corner of his eye—but Trip was looking elsewhere.
Oh, well. Malcolm was well-used to burying his feelings by now.
Things didn’t go exactly as planned. When two alien women wandered over, they—meaning, Trip, really—thought they’d hit the jackpot.
Until they woke up in the basement of the club tied up and stripped down to their underwear.
Malcolm couldn’t believe the predicament they were in. All because Commander bloody Tucker had thought with his dick instead of his brain.
No, that wasn’t fair. Everyone deserved to seek out some fun every once in a while, Malcolm chastised himself, and it was his fault, really, for not telling Trip sooner about his… orientation. For keeping quiet; for grinning and bearing it as Trip pointed out women that Malcolm was decidedly not interested in.
Malcolm waited until Trip jerked awake with a yelp.
“Morning,” he whispered sarcastically.
“Ugh.” Trip pressed his forehead against the concrete floor. “What’d I drink last night?”
“Not much, honestly,” Malcolm said. “I believe the phaser blast did most of the damage.”
Trip was silent for a moment. Then, “Phaser blast?”
“Mm.”
“Ungh… Now I remember…” Trip shifted until he was upright against the same post Malcolm was leant against. “God…” Trip began to yell for help, stopped when Malcolm said he’d already tried it.
“I can’t believe this,” Malcolm muttered to fill the silence. “What did the database say about crime?”
“Well… They said it was rare,” Trip said.
Malcolm blinked. “And you didn’t think you ought to tell me?”
“Well, excuse me for thinking you’d read it yourself!”
“Excuse me for trusting you!” Malcolm shot back.
There was another beat of silence.
“You think this is my fault?” Trip snapped.
“You were willing to follow two strange aliens into a basement!” Malcolm exclaimed, exasperated.
“Gorgeous aliens!” Trip yelled. “Don’t forget about that. They were gorgeous.”
“They were male!”
“Not at first!” Trip scoffed and Malcolm could hear him struggling again. “What’s wrong with ‘em being male anyway? You some kind’a bigot?”
Malcolm drew back. “What? No!”
“Then why’re you actin’ like it’s the end of the world?”
Malcolm rolled his eyes. “Because we’re down here tied up in a basement. If we don’t reach the landing zone in time, the crew are going to come looking for us, and what will they find!” He shook his head. “I had no problem with them being male… until they robbed us of our clothes and possessions!”
Trip fell silent. Malcolm could hear him breathing. “Damn,” he said after a beat. “Guess I pegged you wrong.”
Malcolm frowned. “You thought I was bigoted? …That’d be quite hypocritical if I was, I must say.”
Trip’s head turned sharply. His eyes were wide, lips parted slightly.
I need to stop looking at his lips, Malcolm thought.
“But… your girlfriends,” Trip said. “Those women ya wrote to in the shuttlepod…”
Malcolm rolled his eyes again. “A gay man in denial?” His voice dripped in sarcasm. “Indeed, whoever heard of that?”
Trip closed his mouth and swallowed. “I’m bi myself,” he murmured.
“Good for you,” Malcolm squeaked out, but his heart was skipping beats. He was suddenly hyper-aware of their shared lack of clothing, the cool air of the basement against his skin, and Trip’s warm arm brushing against his.
And also of the way Trip’s gaze flicked briefly downwards before he seemed to wrench it back up. They stared at each other. Trip’s wet his lips with his tongue. If Malcolm didn’t know any better, he’d swear the engineer was inching forward, towards him.
Malcolm flexed his arms against the ropes. “Commander,” he said, forcing himself to keep propriety and professionalism at the forefront, “we must find a way to get out of here.”
Trip stopped, blinked. “Right.” He looked around. “Um, got any bright ideas?”
“I was hoping you would,” Malcolm sighed.
“You’re the one who’s s’pposed to be prepared for anythin’.”
“Tactical situations,” Malcolm pointed out. “Not shore leave. Besides, you were the one who didn’t warn me about the apparently minimal crime rate.”
“You could’a read the database yourself,” Trip retorted again.
Malcolm bit his tongue. “You’re right,” he said quietly.
Silence descended upon the basement. Malcolm continued to fidget, but Trip was stock still, and Malcolm was about to snap at him again to at least do something, when Trip spoke: “You trusted me?”
His soft voice, as if surprised. Malcolm stopped moving. “Of course I did,” he said. “You… We’re… Well, I’d consider us friends.” He cleared his throat when Trip didn’t respond. “And anyway, you’re the commanding officer. I trusted your judgement.”
“Oh, stop that, Malcolm,” Trip scoffed.
Malcolm blinked, then scowled. “I beg your pardon?”
“The ‘commander’ bullshit. I thought you… I… thought we could…” He trailed off.
“Thought what?” Malcolm pressed gently.
Trip ducked his head. “Well, I mean… I didn’t think it was possible, until now, but…”
Malcolm’s breath caught.
“I like you, Mal.” Trip licked his lips. “Like… really like. Just… never thought you’d feel the same.”
“Oh,” Malcolm breathed.
“Yeah.”
Malcolm stared at the wall, the gears in his mind turning. His heart fluttered in his chest. Trip… returned his affections? Was this some sort of dream? It was certainly ridiculous enough to be one.
Trip chuckled suddenly. “Some place for a confession, huh? I mean, I would’a thought the tying up stuff came after.”
Malcolm let out a surprised laugh as well. “One would think, yes.”
Trip shifted, and his hand brushed Malcolm’s arm. “Let’s get outta here first,” he said. “Then we can… talk.”
Malcolm nodded. “Sounds like a great idea to me.”