Title: A Fine Romance

Author: shakespearespot

Fandom: Enterprise

Pairing: Trip/Reed

Archive: Sure. EntSTCommunity. Anyone else ask.

Rating: R, for some descriptive phrases

Disclaimer: Don't own em, although I wish I did. That sure would be a nice Valentine.

Summary: Just fluff. Who wants serious stuff on Valentine's day?

Author's note: Somehow this seemed appropriate to Valentine's day. This is my first attempt (for public
consumption), so please be kind.

Thanks to the people who created Erotic magnetic poetry, it really helped with some of my "best" lines. Particular thanks to Nate for coming up with a . . . particularly interesting line. Something about wiggling probes . . . well you'll understand.

This is in response to a challenge I posted on the list which no one responded to (sniff, sniff). Here it is:

Challenge: Required elements: 1. Someone on the ship writing a Romance Novel. Optional Elements (pick at least 2): 1. silk stockings. 2. The Oxford Latin Dictionary. 3. a windmill. 4. pastel pink. 5. "The Importance of Being Ernest" by Oscar Wilde.

A Fine Romance
by shakespearespot

Malcolm walked down the corridor, took a left and keyed into Trip's room. Malcolm stopped short when he saw what Trip was doing. He was reading. He was actually reading. And he seemed to be enjoying it. Then Trip made a breathy sound, his cheeks flushed, and pressed a hand to his chest.

What the hell was he reading?

Malcolm slowly went to stand behind Trip, and leaned over to see the words on the PADD.

"Her naked pussy purred for the wild animal in him."

"Trip! What the hell is that?"

Trip jumped and would have fallen on his face if he hadn't grabbed the back of the chair.

"Geez, Mal. Didja have t' sneak up on me like that?"

"What is that?"

Trip hid the PADD behind his back. "Jist some light readin.' "

"It looked positively obscene."

"It's not obscene. It's romantic." Trip actually sounded like he was offended. Okay, now Mal had to see the PADD. Before Trip knew it, Malcolm had ripped it out of his hands and was reading, eyes widening.

He began to read aloud. "Alex climbed up from the picnic blanket he'd been lounging on, shoved aside the Oxford Latin Dictionary and The Importance of Being Ernest and pushed Sally against the windmill. He ripped off her pastel pink bra and pulled her legs around his waist. He plunged inside her. He screamed when his probe wiggled. She milked his pole. Her silk stocking created the most wonderful friction against his waist."

"Trip. This is awful. Your comic books were great works of literature in comparison."

"Hey! She's a good author."

"A good author? That idiot President they had in America, what was his name, George Bush, would have been a better author than this!"

"I'll have you know she went to Harvard."

"Did she graduate?"

Trip scowled. "I'd like to see ya do better."

"It wouldn't be that difficult."

A sinister grin swept across Trip's face. "All right, then. I dare ya. I dare ya to write a romance novel."

"What?"

"Put your money where your mouth is. Write me a romance novel."

Oh, great. He'd really done it this time. Well, there was no helping it. "Deal."

*****

Malcolm and Trip were eating lunch together a few days later.

"How's that romance novel coming, Mal?"

Malcolm barely managed to keep from choking on his pineapple juice. "Very well. I'm going to write about the delicious passion between boys."

"No. Ya gotta write het."

"Het?"

"Man. Woman. No boys, no men. Unless it's like a gay lady's maid or somethin' oogling the homophobic love of the heroine."

"Huh?"

"Het."

"How about the line `goo in mouth, penis pudding'?'

"MAL?!"

"What?!"

"No. Ya gotta do it right."

"Fine. How about `Gimme that tremendous apparatus'?"

"Mal."

"I love your bare behind?"

Trip considered this remark and said quite seriously. "It'd have to be in the right context."

"You embrace my foot?"

"Now yer just bein' silly."

"And this whole thing isn't silly?"

"Nope. It's damn serious. Tell me when ya got it finished."

After Trip left, Malcolm dropped his head to the table, mumbling "How the hell did I get myself into this?"

*****

"So Mal, how's it going?"

Malcolm quickly saved the novel and shut down his computer. "None of your business."

"Come on, Mal. A quick peek wouldn't do any harm."

"No."

"You've been working on my story for weeks. Can't ya just give me a little hint about the place, the scene, the names' of the lovers, the general plot?"

"It's supposed to have a plot?" A confused expression crossed Malcolm's face.

"Mal!"

"It was an honest question."

"Mal, it's gotta have a plot."

Mal pretended to look upset. "Damn. Now I'm going to have to start all over again."

"No, ya aren't." Trip replied emphatically, having had this conversation many times in the last couple of weeks. "Now is it one of them historical ones?"

"Historical?"

"Yeah, ya know, as is in not taking place now."

"I do know what historical means."

"Fine. Contemporary?"

"Contemporary?"

"Yeah, ya know as in . . . will ya stop it! Damn it, just give me a hint."

"Why?"

"Because I gotta know."

"Why?"

"Because it's driving me nuts. I can't concentrate on anything, thinkin' about what yer writin' for me."

"Well, I'm sure if you explained to the Captain that you can't concentrate on your work because you want to know what happens in the romance novel I'm writing for you, he'd understand."

"Sadist."

"And proud of it."

Trip looked at the computer speculatively, a certain look entering his eye that Malcolm was well acquainted with.

"Trip, as Head of Security I have taken certain precautions to ensure that this story will be safe from any prying eyes. Yours, especially."

"Mal, that just ain't fair."

"Who said life was fair?"

"Why do I even bother coming over anymore? Yer no fun."

"Sorry to disappoint." Trip was muttering under his breath, and Malcolm suspected he was being compared to the backside of a horse. Best to clear the air a bit. "But since you're here, I would appreciate your help with something."

"Huh?"

"I need to figure out some logistics."

"Logistics? Why don't ya just ask some people in security fer help?"

"Why Trip, that's a wonderful idea! I'll just go up to Nicols tomorrow and say `I'm writing this novel and I need to know whether or not it is possible to fuck in this way. We'll try it right after we finish with the phase cannons but before target practice. Consider it a preliminary exercise.' "

"Oh."

"Yes, oh. Now are you going to help or not?"

"Is it a hard task?"

"Oh, yes. Very hard."

"Well, far be it from me to refuse my lover when he needs my help."

"Very generous of you. Now get on the desk."

******

Damn, damn, damn. Malcolm was stuck. And right in the middle of a steamy sex scene, too. He was sitting in the mess hall, his lunch forgotten as he glared down at the PADD that contained his story. He'd tried to forget about it but the scene had been lurking at the back of his mind, refusing to be ignored. He `d
quickly run back to his quarter to get the PADD before lunch so he could work out the scene. Maybe then he'd be able to concentrate on his work. Well, what if the Count used . . . no. How about a . . . no. It would have been so much easier if he hadn't done het. He could have more easily tried things out on Trip, but no, Trip wanted het. And het meant absurdly strong and noble men and uncommonly educated and opinionated
females.

All of a sudden the ship lurched to the side and the power went out. Malcolm fell out of his chair, the story completely forgotten. He raced to the bridge to see what the problem was. The PADD lay forgotten in the corner, where it had fallen.

*****
Crewman Ally Peters was laughing over a joke she'd overheard when she noticed the small PADD in the corner of the mess. She excused herself to go over and fetch it.

"What's that Ally?" Miles asked.

"A PADD."

"Who does it belong to?"

"There's no name on it."

"Better turn it on and see if the name is listed in the directory. Geez is that the time? I was due in engineering five minute ago." Ally waved good-bye then turned the PADD on. That was strange, there was no name there either. Well maybe if she opened one of the files and saw the content she'd at least know
which department it belonged to.

She noticed only one file. It appeared to be a story. Hmm. Well, what kind of story? She'd only meant to read the first couple of paragraphs, but, well, it was really, really good. She raced back to her room and flung herself back on her pillows. She wasn't due for duty for another couple of hours and surely it wouldn't
hurt to wait a little longer to give the story back.

She was entranced. The heroine was funny and strong and the hero, my god, she wished there were more men like him on board. It was almost time for work when she got to a steamy love scene, oooh, it was wonderful. She paged down to get the next bit and . . . it wasn't there. It ended abruptly, right in the midst of the couple's expression of their love.

Ally almost screamed in agony. That was it? It just ended there? "Nooooooooo," she wailed. She took deep, calming breaths. "All right, I'll give it to Hoshi. She can find out who wrote it, and then I can read the rest."

She scampered to the bridge. "Hey Hosh."

"Hi. What's up?"

"Well, I found this PADD in the mess earlier and couldn't figure out who it belonged to. I thought maybe you'd know how to give it back to it's rightful owner."

"Oh? I'll try."

"And if you do find them, could you tell them I want to read the rest when they're finished?"

Hoshi nodded her head slowly.

Ally waved goodbye and ran down to the lab.

"The rest" Hoshi thought? "What the hell was on the PADD?"

Now she was curious. It wouldn't hurt if she took a peek at what was on the PADD after her shift.

*****

Hoshi sat in the mess, her hand pressed to her chest, absorbed in the novel. She hadn't been able to find out who the story belonged to, but she was going to. Whoever had written the book was good, really good. The descriptions were vivid, the characters endearing, it was filled with humor, and the sex scenes . . . well she wouldn't mind being the author's muse sometime.

"The liquid lap of his tongue was ecstasy? What on earth are you reading, Hosh?"

"Travis! Don't come up on me like that?" Hoshi gasped. "You scared the wits out of me."

"Obviously, if you're reading something like that."

"No, you don't understand. This is wonderful. Superb. Unbelievable."

"It's a romance novel."

"No, it's a masterpiece."

"A masterpiece? You've gotta be kidding me."

Hoshi gave up on him, the plebeian. She scanned down to the next page and . . . "Nooooooo." She moaned. "That can't be it. It just can't be."

"Hoshi, it's just a book."

Hoshi's head was on the table rocking back and forth. Travis picked the PADD out of her loose fingertips and went to the beginning of the book. He'd planned to read it out loud to embarrass her. An angry Hoshi was better than a depressed one, but his plan was forgotten as he began to read. She was right. It was a masterpiece.

*****

Malcolm entered Trip's room slowly. "Uh, Trip?"

"What? Ready to go to dinner?"

"Well, no. There's something I've got to tell you first."

"What?"

"I lost your novel."

"Huh?"

"The novel I was writing for you . . . I lost it."

"Mal, that is no excuse. I still plan to hold you to that bet."

"I'm not trying to welsh on our deal. I lost the book, Trip. In the mess."

"How could you lose it there?"

"Because I copied it over onto a PADD so I could work on it. Remember that big hit we took? Well, in my rush to get to the Bridge, I left the novel in the mess. It wasn't there when I went back."

"Don't worry about it Mal. Someone will return it to you."

"No, they won't. I didn't put my name on it. They'll be forced to look at the contents in to figure out who it belongs to."

"Aw, shit."

"Indeed."

*****

"Pan fried catfish. Must be my lucky day."

"At least it's going well for someone."

"Mal, please. Take your mind off that novel for two seconds, will ya?"

"How can I? My reputation will be ruined if anyone finds out I wrote a romance novel."

Trip sighed. "Mal, honey, what's the worse that could happen? So the crew figures out you have a passionate side. That you're sexy as hell. Hell, I've known that ever since I met ya."

"Trip?"

"Yeah?"

"Bugger off."

Trip waggled his eyebrows. "Ready whenever you are."

Malcolm snorted and grabbed the Thai chicken with pineapple sauce.

Trip nodded in the direction of Hoshi and Travis. "Let's go sit with Hosh and Travis."

They walked over to the table and sat down. Hoshi was busy snickering at Travis. He seemed to be engrossed in a PADD.

"I told ya it was good."

"Yeah. Now shut-up. I'm reading."

Trip turned inquiring eyes towards Hoshi.

She grinned. "He's reading this romance novel we found."

Malcolm's eyes grew wide in horror. Hoshi mistook the look to be one of shock at there being a stray romance novel on the ship. "Yeah, I know. Amazing isn't it. We think someone aboard the ship is writing it. Unfortunately, it isn't finished."

"Isn't finished?" Trip asked innocently.

"No, damn it. It is soooo good. I'm going to make it my duty to find the writer . . . if only to get the rest of the book."

Malcolm dug into his food with renewed gusto.

"Chicken good, Mal?" Trip asked.

"Really hungry."

"Uh-huh."

Suddenly there came from Travis an anguished wail, "Noooooooooo."

"I did warn you."

"That's cruel, inhuman. You can't just leave something like that around unfinished."

"I'm sure they didn't mean for you to find it." Malcolm said darkly.

"Mal, you don't understand. It would be a sacrilege to withhold this from the crew."

"Hey, Travis." This came from Ensign Patricia Damian. "Is that the . . . uh . . . book? Ally told me there was this great book aboard."

"Yeah." Travis replied.

"Can I have it when you're done?"

"Here." Travis handed the PADD off to her.

Malcolm gasped. It was circulating?

Travis misinterpreted his gasp. "Sorry, Mal. I didn't realize you wanted to read it. I'm sure it'll get to you sometime."

Trip looked at Malcolm, trying desperately to contain his mirth.

*****

Trip barely made it back to his quarters before he was overcome by fits of laughter. He had to press his back against the wall to stay upright.

"Oh, God, Mal. This is great."

"No, it's not."

Malcolm walked to the middle of the room and turned to face his lover. He stood there rigidly, scowling.

Trip glanced up. Even his lover's dark scowl couldn't tame his merriment "No, really. It's wonderful. Who would'a thought you'd be such a great writer?"

"No one if you hadn't proposed that ridiculous bet."

"Hey, you accepted."

"And you would have teased me unmercifully if I hadn't."

Trip glanced at Malcolm. The truth finally sank in. Uh-oh. Malcolm was really pissed. He probably was genuinely scared that people would find out he'd written the thing.

"Mal. Everyone who's read it so far loves it. Don't worry." Malcolm glared. Okay, a different plan was in order. Trip walked slowly over to Malcolm, and leaned down seductively. "Ya know. It's pretty obvious that I'm not going to get to read the book you wrote for me any time soon. Why don't you show me what happens in it?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I re-wrote the ending. I wouldn't want to be court-martialed."

"Why? What happens?"

"The Count kills the heroine for opening her big mouth."

"Why do I have to be the girl?" Trip said indignantly, not believing for a moment that Malcolm would actually hurt him.

"Because you're the one who reads romance novels."

"So does Travis."

"And who's fault is that?"

"Hoshi's. All right, what do I have to do to make it up to ya?"

"Get me that PADD."

"You're head of security."

"And if I take that novel away before everyone's read it, I'll have an irate crew hunting me down."

"What about me then?"

"What abut you?"

Trip sighed. "I'll see what I can do."

*****

Malcolm walked quickly into the Armory. Escape. Blessed escape. In the three days since he'd lost the PADD, it had become the topic of conversation. At least here he was safe from the infernal babbling about the wondrous book.

Crewman Leo stepped through the doors. Malcolm glanced at her. No. She wasn't. She couldn't be. Then "Noooooooooooo. That can't be it. Not now. Where' s the rest?"

Crewman Nicols popped his head out of one of the storage rooms. "Is that the novel? Can I have it next?" Malcolm practically ran into his office before he had to hear the rest. This was a nightmare. An absolute nightmare.

*****

Malcolm's head was pounding, absolutely pounding as he walked through the doors to sick bay. "Phlox?"

"I'll be with you in a moment."

Then, from behind the door, he heard it. "Nooooooooooo." Oh, God. Liz was reading it, too.

Phlox walked through the door. "Crewman Cutler, I did warn you that it ended at a most unfortunate time."

"But . . . but . . ." Liz sputtered as she followed him out of the room. "Why did you give it to me? That's cruel. That can't possibly be it. Are you withholding the rest from me?"

Phlox sighed. "No, I'm afraid not. But isn't it wonderful?"

A dreamy expression entered Liz's eye. "Yes. I want the Count. You don't suppose there's a man aboard the ship that is the inspiration for the Count, do you?"

"My, that is an interesting thought. It certainly deserves some looking into."

Malcolm coughed to gain Phlox's attention. The sooner he could get out of there, the better.

Phlox glanced over at Malcolm. "So Lieutenant Reed, what can I do for you?"

He was about to say he had a headache but no . . . "I have a migraine."

"Ah. I'll prepare a hypospray for you." As Phlox worked, he chattered on about the magnificent book he'd just finished, while Malcolm gritted his teeth. "Have you read the novel yet, Lieutenant?" Malcolm shook his head then grabbed his skull.

"Oh, you must. It is absolutely astounding. If that is what love and sex can be like among your kind . . . well, I'll simply have to study it further. Do you think there is anyone aboard who would wish to conduct such an experiment with me?"

"No offense, Phlox, but I really don't want to know about any . . . experiments you want to perform of that nature."

"Oh, terribly sorry. Ah, yes. You are with Commander Tucker so I suppose neither one of you would be interested. Still after I experiment with heterosexual relationships, I don't suppose you would allow me to observe the two of you while you're mating?"

"Doctor!" Malcolm didn't think he could have been more horrified.

"It's just after reading that book, I wondered if it were physically possible to perform all of those love scenes not only between a human man and woman but also between two men or two women." Phlox gave Malcolm the medicine. "There. That should do it. Will there be anything else?"

"No."

"Good, glad to be of service. Now, you just let me know if you change your mind about my experiment."

Malcolm sprinted for the door.

*****
Malcolm was headed towards the Captain's mess when he heard it . . . again. "Nooooooo." Great now Crewman Hilde Brand had read the book. Damn it. When was Trip going to get his hands on that blasted PADD? Before or after everyone in Starfleet had read it? The dratted man seemed to think the entire thing was some hysterical joke.

Malcolm was the last to arrive at the table; he quickly took the seat across from Trip. He pushed his thoughts away so he could catch the thread of conversation.

Archer seemed to be saying something about Chef. Will at least food was a safe topic. "Have you all heard about what Chef is offering? He said he'd make a romantic dinner for two for anyone who gave him the rest of the novel."

"I find this whole thing highly illogical. From what I know about these romance novels, they contain fantasy stories that give people false hopes." Well, at least T'Pol hadn't read it, Malcolm thought.

"You haven't read it, yet?" Archer gasped. He called for a crewman.

"Crewman Henry, please locate the novel for the Sub-Commander." Several moments later the crewman entered carrying the PADD. Trip and Malcolm were both staring in wide eyed fascination as it was handed to T'Pol.

"Now you make sure you read that tonight, T'Pol. That's an order."

"Understood, Captain."

Archer turned his gaze to Trip and Malcolm. "So, have either of you read it yet?"

Malcolm was trying to think of how to respond when Archer's eyes swung toward him. "You know, Lieutenant. I noticed the most astonishing thing while reading that book."

"Oh?" Malcolm strove to keep his face neutral.

"Yes. It was amazing the number of British spellings in the book, and you're the only British member of the crew."

"And?"

"Did you edit the book?"

Malcolm stared at the Captain. Archer stared back. "Uh . . . yes, sir. Yes I did."

"Does that mean you know who wrote it?" Archer's face took on the expression of a child about to receive a much wanted present.

All right. Now Malcolm was confused. "Pardon?"

"Do you know who wrote it? I want to read the rest."

"Uh . . . no, sir. Afraid not. I got it through the mail. I suppose whoever wrote it must have thought I'd be a good editor." Trip snorted, muttering something about him being anal enough for the job. Malcolm's attention swung back to the Captain.

"Damn. I was hoping you'd be able to locate the rest of the book for me." Archer pouted.

"Sorry, sir."

"Well, if they ask you to edit the rest, let me know."

*****

Trip ran after Malcolm in the hall on the way to the mess the next morning. "Hey, Mal. Wait up."

"What?"

"I think this is starting to get out of hand."

"Whatever gave you that idea?"

"Well, I just heard from Jonny that T'Pol's taking off today."

"What? She's so absorbed in my book, she can't bear to put it down?"

"No. She read it last night. The reason she has to take off is because it turned her on so much that she feels the need to spend the day meditating to get a handle on things."

"Damn."

"So where did you learn to write a love scene that would excite a Vulcan?"

Malcolm glared.

"Anyway. She gave it to Lieutenant Hess. I'll try to get it from her at work today."

*****

Trip strode proudly into Malcolm's quarters the PADD in his hands.

"I thought you were getting it during work."

Trip looked hurt. "What? Yer not even gonna say thank you?"

"Trip, you got off five hours ago."

"I had some reading to catch up on." Trip muttered.

"Trip."

"Nothing you'd be interested in."

"Trip."

"Okay. So I read it. It's not like you would'a let me after all of this."

Malcolm snorted which seemed to confirm Trip's theory. Trip plopped down by Malcolm's chair, sitting in front of Mal on his knees. He rested his forearms on Malcolm's thighs and gazed up at his lover. "So . . . when are ya gonna finish it?"

"Who said anything about finishing it?"

"Oh, come on Mal! Ya can't leave it there. It's right in the middle of the climax!"

"No, it isn't."

"Yes, it is."

"Oh. That climax."

"So when are ya gonna finish it?"

"Whoever said I hadn't?"

"You mean it's finished?"

"Has been all along. I was just tweaking it."

"But the scene wasn't finished."

"That scene wasn't finished. The rest was."

"And that scene?"

"I fixed it before all of this started, when I still thought I'd get the PADD back."

"And will ya let me read the rest?"

"No."

"I could convince you to give it to me."

"You could try. But it would take a lot of work on your part. I have it on good authority that everyone aboard this ship has read my novel."

"I'm willing to make an effort."

Malcolm leaned forward. "Good." He pulled Trip up to him, to claim a smoldering kiss.

*****

Trip glanced over at his lover. Yes, still sleeping. He looked back at the computer screen. Who would have thought it? The rest of the novel was just as good as the beginning.

He quickly finished his message to the Captain.

"Jon, as you know, Malcolm's been editing the novel. I found the rest of it and felt it would be cruel not to send it on to you. Give it to the rest of the crew, just tell the crew to be discrete. I don't want Malcolm finding out I sent this."

Trip sent off the message. Whew. There, it was over with. Now it was up to the Captain to keep the crew from talking about it. "If Mal finds out about this, I'm a dead man," Trip muttered as he turned off the screen.

"Yep."

Hope you enjoyed it,
shakespearespot