Author: Pretzelduck
Author's e-mail: pretzelduck@yahoo.com
Author's Website: http://www.geocities.com/pretzelduck
Length: about 4230 words
Fandom: Star Trek: Enterprise
Pairing: Reed/Mayweather
Type: Slash M/M
Rating: PG-13
Status: Complete
Summary: The end of a long day causes changes in Travis and Malcolm's friendship.
Feedback: Yes
Series/sequel: No
Archive: Yes to EntSTSlash Archive, Tim Ruben, and WWOMB
Spoilers: Rather vague references to "Vox Sola" and "Dead Stop"
Disclaimer: Guess what? I don't own the Star Trek franchise. Paramount does. I also don't make any money from writing this. I don't make any money, period.
Author's Note: Malcolm's first rule of tactics is borrowed, with the greatest respect, from Q, the gadgetmaster of the James Bond world. Bond isn't quite the same without him.
With One Smile
by Pretzelduck
I suffer from occasional bouts of temporary insanity. That would be the only explanation for why I do the things I do. Why else would I smile at him? I know full well he'll smile back. And then I'm lost. Sinking ever deeper into him. It's like delightful quicksand. One cannot escape but who would want to.
I've known Travis for years, since before our mutual posting to Enterprise. We met during one phase or another of training. Slowly, we became friends. One of my very few. It was a cautious maneuver on my part. I've known other attractive men and have never
had this problem before. A problem of not wanting something else besides friendship. Friendship in itself is rare enough for me. But a romance? Those odds are too low for even a hardened gambler. However, in my experience, underneath a good-looking
exterior lies very little, if any substance. But Travis blew that modest theory out of the water. I soon learned that behind those velvety brown eyes was a keen mind and a quick wit and that easy smile reflected a compassionate and caring man. I should have walked away. I should have kept my distance. But my control fails me with one glance into those eyes. My long-held discipline fades with one little smile sent in my direction.
That's how I ended up here. That's how I always end up here. Sitting at a table in the mess hall, across from my personal magnet, picking at my food. I'm not exactly hungry. I don't think about eating or sleeping when there's work to be done. Those types of things just drop to the bottom of the priority list. The targeting system for the torpedoes is
malfunctioning again. I should be down in the armory doing my job. Never mind the fact that it isn't my shift. It's my job, nonetheless. Ten minutes ago, Travis showed up in the armory and with one smile convinced me to leave the work alone long enough to eat a fairly late dinner.
I know that he knew it wasn't my shift. This isn't the first time that Travis has pulled me away from my work to insure that I've eaten or slept. He's a good man, a concerned friend. But these systems require my attention. As always, though, I relent. I am a
trained tactical officer, after all, and I should know when to surrender to a superior force. In this case, a smiling, caring, gorgeous Travis Mayweather.
He's talking about the last away mission. It's the second in as many as he's been on. He's practically glowing with enthusiasm and I can't help but smile at him. Then, of course, he smiles back. Travis always seems to be smiling but this is just noticeably wider. It's my downfall every time. I aimlessly push the peas and carrots around my plate. An abstract artist would probably find some sort of pattern in the vegetables. I just see a pictorial representation of my inability to eat right now.
It's not just that I have still have work to do. The targeting system requires at least three more hours of adjustments and testing. But there's more to it than that. I'm well aware of my personality. I've been told I radiate the infamous British reserve. It comes down to this: There are moments, like this one, when I'm around Travis that I feel stoic. His energetic nature is part of who he is but sometimes, it depresses me. I wonder if I was as relaxed and open.I wonder if he would have realized long ago that I care for him. Perhaps, if I were different, he would be interested too.
"It's a good thing that you're the armory officer, Malcolm."
My mind quickly shifts all of its attentions back to my dinner companion. The fork in his hand isn't moving. He's been gesturing with it for most of our one-way conversation. I'm itching to make a clever comment in return. We have a rapport that I honestly enjoy. His sense of humor is always enough to brighten my day and Travis appears to think that I possess one of my own. A rare opinion among the rest of the crew.
"I suppose so. I wouldn't want you to be out of a job."
"I'd gladly switch with you for a day but I'm talking about your food. Or at least the remnants of your food. What do you call that? The Vegetable Disaster?"
Looking down, I see exactly what he's talking about. Somehow in picking at my dinner, I managed to eat everything but the vegetables. They're now in various stages of mush, swirling together to create a rather nauseating color. I can feel a smile tugging at the corners of my lips. Travis came to the same conclusion as I did earlier regarding my dinner being artwork.
"I prefer 'Inedible' myself. However, what does my dinner have to do with my position on this ship?"
He's smiling again. Pleased at his own humor. I like the look. He reminds of a painting I saw once called the Mona Lisa. The woman in it was smiling as if she knew something I didn't. It suits Travis well.
"Your.uh.fondness for destruction shows up even when you eat. I was thinking about it when I noticed your plate."
Travis was thinking about me while he was talking before? That seems rather odd. I don't have any idea why he would be contemplating my other infamous characteristic, either. He isn't looking at me anymore. His eyes are focused somewhere just to the right of my head. I certainly hope he doesn't think that I'm going to be upset with him. However, his
comment does give me an opening. I can't avoid my duties all night.
"Speaking of destruction, I should return to the armory so I can ensure that the Enterprise is capable of it."
His marvelous eyes dart back to me. He looks crestfallen; surely he's not disappointed by my leaving. There are plenty of other better dinner companions. As soon as I've registered that emotion, his eyes light up and that smile returns.
"Would you like some help?"
An offer to help me? We're friends but why would want to spend his off-duty time with me?
"You just finished a double shift on the bridge, Travis. You should finish your meal and get some rest."
I've stood up by now. Looking down at him, I can see the return of the disappointment on his face. Once again, it doesn't stay long but this time it's replaced by something I can only describe as unyielding.
"And I suppose that double shift and then rest business doesn't apply to you?"
He's kept his voice low. For some reason, he doesn't want the rest of rather empty mess hall to hear what he's saying. So I do the same when I reply.
"Not at the moment, Ensign."
I consider my instinctive responses to situations to be rather predictable. Being fired at, shoot back. Unknown planet, bring security. Unfamiliar situations such as Travis' unusual degree of concern about me, retreat behind discipline. Hence, the 'ensign' bit.
I usually only refer to Travis by his rank when we're on-duty or occasionally with others. If it's just the two of us, I try to call him by his name. We've been friends long enough to warrant it. Also, when I call him 'ensign' on those occasions, he always seems to look a tad sad for an instant. I'm expecting that look now. But instead, it goes beyond that. And
beyond the previous disappointment I saw on his face.
He looks...dejected.
This knot starts to form in the pit of my stomach. I feel like I just kicked Porthos. The distance I'm famous for is reflected in his glassy eyes as he looks at me long enough to say, "Of course, sir," before turning away and going back to his dinner.
I walk away from the table and dispose of my tray. As I leave the mess hall, I can feel the knot in my stomach get larger and larger. And I have the horrific feeling that I've just ruined my friendship with Travis. The little piece I did have of him. My closest friend. And I have no idea what I did wrong.
It doesn't take long before I've entered the armory. By the string of whispered curses I hear suddenly stop when my presence is noticed, I know that the targeting system still isn't functioning. I look over at Crewman Weber, the night-shift engineer who's been
splitting her time between engineering and the armory.
"I take it none of the adjustments are holding."
She stands up at the sound of my voice. "No, sir, they aren't. The upper left quadrant of the grid is still drifting and overlapping the right one, sir."
"Go take a break, Crewman. I expect you back here in thirty minutes."
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."
Weber heads out of the armory at a record pace. I suppose I should be questioning as to why but at the moment, I don't care. I'm alone for the time being and that's exactly what I want. I don't want to deal with others right now. I walk over to the main targeting console and start to look over the adjustments that Weber made. All competent, none successful. I try to begin working on other solutions to the problem but that's also ineffective. The image of Travis looking so miserable haunts me. I can see the detachment in his eyes with mine closed. I open my eyes and see his shoulders uncharacteristically slumped.
What have I done? The more time I spend with Travis, the more I feel that I've come to grips with my attraction to him. He's intelligent, funny, stunningly attractive, passionate...he's everything. But we're friends. I've long since told myself that wouldn't ruin our friendship by suggesting that my feelings for him go deeper than that. Although, it seems that I've managed to do that anyway.
I still can't figure out why Travis reacted the way that he did. I expected him to be bothered by the use of his rank but not as badly as he obviously was. He knew I would go back to the armory eventually. By his reaction, one would think that he was the one interested in me, not the other way around.
Ouch! I've just managed to startle myself into kicking the bulkhead. What was that?!
He was...the one...interested...in...me.
The words tumble over and over through my mind. They're rattling around up there aimlessly and painfully hitting the sides of my skull. He came to the armory to make sure that I took a break. The offer to help. The sadness in his eyes each time I used his rank. The time he badgered me until I went to movie night with him. The smiles. The meals taken together.
Is it possible? The thought that it could be passes through my jumbled mind but I clamp down on it insistently. What if Travis is attracted to me as well? The very idea makes me light-headed and my legs a bit quivery. I sit down on the deck and open the panel next to me, just in case Weber returns early.
What if he was...is interested me? All of a sudden, my actions at dinner are fully present in mind. I tried to leave dinner early. I refused his help. I avoided his concern over me and used his rank. Now not only have I managed to ruin our friendship but there is the slightest possibility that I've destroyed any chance of having Travis. Dating him, kissing him, holding him, making love to him.
The cover to the panel that I removed a moment ago hits an adjacent wall with a resounding thump. What have I done?
Actually, I have no idea what I may or may not have done. To my friendship with Travis and let alone to any slightest chance of something more with him. And I won't know. Not yet, anyway.
Standing up, I walk over to pick up the covering that I just threw against the wall. After putting it back into place, I take a quick look around the armory. The targeting system will just have to wait. I don't care much for uncertainties. One this large and this important takes precedence. I just need to remember not to make this a reoccurring event.
One more detail to take care of...
"Reed to Weber."
"Weber, here."
"You need to report back to the armory immediately, Crewman." At the moment, I don't particularly care whether or not she's thinks Lieutenant Reed is a daft taskmaster. As long as she gets back here on the double.
"Yes, sir. On my way."
It will take her a few minutes to get here so I find myself pacing across the length of the room. I have no idea what to say to Travis. This is assuming, of course, he'll talk to me. A voice inside my head keeps telling me that I'm making a mistake. If I didn't ruin my friendship with Travis earlier, I'm going to now by acting on some misguided assumption
that he might have a romantic interest in me as well. This is, after all, the notion that I've acted on for years. Or more precisely, not acted because of.
But the image of him looking so distant troubles me deeply. I have to know if I'm right about its cause. It's odd, I suppose, that I want so badly to have hurt him.
The door opens behind me. The sound of Weber's footsteps on the metal deck echo in the room. I whirl around to meet her, trying desperately not to appear to impatient.
"I have something else that needs to be taken care of. Continue to work on the targeting system. Perhaps another member of the engineering staff is available to help you." I wait for her to nod in understanding before I continue. "I'll be busy for the rest of the evening. Only contact me if it's an emergency." I have to stop myself from adding, 'And by emergency, I mean a bloody Suliban ambush...'
"Understood, sir."
I simply nod before leaving the armory behind and walking out into the corridor. The mess hall would be the obvious first place to start. I walk in and find nobody there but a few various crewmen, grabbing something to help them sleep.
Next on my list is Travis' own quarters. I really don't want to go there. I have only been to them for duty-related purposes. The last time was utterly painful. I was assigned to go through Travis' belongings when we thought he was dead. I'd never felt more drained or despondent than when I overrode the lock on his door and stood in the empty cabin.
Everything had been so gray. I had forgotten how to see color.
My fingers are centimeters from his door chime, by now. Taking a deep breath, I press the button. The door starts to slide open and I feel myself fall helplessly into old routine as I take the classic 'at ease' position.
"Hello, Malcolm." Travis's voice is flat and emotionless. At least for him, anyway. I can feel my mouth go dry and the age-old instinct of fight or flight is getting stronger.
"I'd like to talk to you, Travis." The use of his first name is deliberate. Why do I feel like I'm asking permission to go in front of a firing squad?
He steps aside from the doorway and gestures me inside his quarters. Everything looks exactly like I remember it looking. I take a slow, expected glance around before returning my gaze to him. He's standing up straight and there's a purposefully blank look on his face.
I can't believe what I'm seeing. He reminds me...of me. With a barely audible snicker, I smile at him. His posture relaxes slightly and a baby version of his usual luminous smile replaces the pressed lips. But now I don't have a single notion of what to say. Or where to begin, for that matter.
"I'm attracted to you."
Did I just say what I think I just said? By Travis' rapidly blinking eyes and vaguely gaping mouth, I'm fairly certain those were the words that exited my mouth. Bloody hell. Of all the times to lose control, I have to pick now. That fight or flight response is definitely going full force now. I take a step back toward the door. Depending on the words to come out of his mouth or lack of words, I can be out of here in one motion. As I long ago devised, my first rule of tactics is to always have an escape plan.
Travis' mouth is still gaping. Time to implement the escape plan. One hand hits the button, door slides open, take a step, go out the door, and the door closes behind me. My feet feel like lead and I'm fairly certain that I've forgotten how to walk. All these years of wondering and now I know. I should have listened to that damn voice after all. I should start walking. Back to the armory, I suppose. Even if my most sacred wish was blown up like an asteroid by one of the phase cannons, I still can get the very smallest bit of happiness from confusing that poor crewman.
Out of nowhere, I feel myself being pulled backwards. Something has grabbed the back of my uniform. My feet quickly recover from their previous leaden state but it doesn't seem matter. I'm back in Travis' quarters and two strong arms are wrapped around me. There's someone breathing heavily next to my ear. Someone? I know who it is but I can't quite comprehend it yet.
Travis.
"I'm attracted to you, too."
I turn around in the embrace. Travis is looking down at me ever so slightly. What isn't so slight is the tenderness in those brown eyes. Smiling softly at him, I slip an arm around him so I'm holding him as well. He's trembling a bit. We're both trembling, as a matter of fact. With my free hand, I gently run my thumb across his cheek. His skin feels so soft
underneath it. I've wondered for so long. I let my eyes close for a moment before opening them again.
"Yeah, I'm still here, Malcolm."
My response is a laugh that sounds embarrassingly similar to a snort. How did he know?
"How did you..." Am I truly going to get into this habit with him? Blurting out things like that. Could be interesting. Or dangerous.
"We've been friends for a while now, remember?"
Friends. The word hangs in the air like a heavy fog. A veil between us. I've wanted more than friendship from the first time I met Travis. As for him, I haven't a clue. What if this doesn't work out? What will happen to our friendship? I've tried the "let's be friends" way before. It doesn't work. As a fact, my results with it have been somewhere between disastrous and tragic. To be honest, I'd rather be Travis' life-long friend than an old boyfriend from some past short-lived relationship.
I really should have thought of all this a long time ago. But I didn't. To consider the consequences would require the possibility of some foolish action like blurting out that I was attracted to him.
"That's right. Friends."
He just shakes his head at me, in a manner I think is meant to be somewhat impertinent. Before I realize it, Travis is kissing me. His beautifully full lips are pressing against mine. Not in any way that could possibly be called aggressive. The texture and motions of those lips are lost in the wake of the utter serenity that they evoke. It's a reassuring kiss. Meant to calm me. I'm calm, certainly. Too calm, perhaps. I should be feeling something. Kissing back...something. But the impulses in my brain have passed the overheated phase. They've crashed one right after another until all I'm capable of, at the moment, is tranquility.
"I've always wanted you, Malcolm."
And then that simple sentence jumpstarts my addled brain. I release my hold on Travis and cup both my hands on his face. One corner of my mouth skews itself into a smirk. A heart beat later, I return the favor of a soothing kiss. I let my hands drift down to comfortable positions on each side of his waist before I break the kiss. As I'm pulling away, I whisper in his ear, "And I, you."
We stand there in his quarters like that for many moments. His hands caressing my back. Mine gripping his waist. Both of us just smiling, albeit inanely, at each other. My heart is beating loud enough for him to hear. I swear I can hear his.
"Now what?" We say it at exact the same time. Travis starts to laugh; it's an almost musical sound to my ears. I join in with the same unrestrained laughter. He abruptly stops and looks at me like I'm an insect under a microscope.
"You haven't done that since we first met." I can feel myself start to blush. Bloody pale skin.
"I know."
He rolls his eyes at me, takes a step back, and crosses his arms in front of his chest.
"Why?" He enunciates the word very slowly, like he's speaking to a small child.
I have to glare at him for a second before answering his question. It's rather entertaining, glaring. People are either afraid of me, which is the majority response, or...
"Cute." The irritating word is accompanied by a snicker.
They laugh at me. They actually translates into only Travis, who for one reason or another, has never been all that afraid of me. Not that I've minded. It is high up on his list of charms.
"I was merely physically attracted to you when we first met. Then we became better acquainted and I grew to care for you and..." There are other words that are supposed to complete that sentence but I can't quite seem to get them out.
"And you were scared." Close enough. Besides, he said it. Not me.
"I suppose."
Travis unfolds his arms and puts one around me so he can guide me over to the bed. We sit down on the edge of it, side by side. We're so close to each other that I can't get a clear look at his features. I am rather partial to the sensation, though. We're well inside each other's personal space but the warmth spreading out and surrounding us far surpasses any
discomfort.
"Why did you refuse my help at dinner? If you're attracted to me..."
I can hear the doubt in his voice. This is incredibly surreal to me and I suspect that it's the same for him.
"I am attracted to you. Very much. So why didn't I want to spend more time with you?" He nods briefly. The motion ruffles my hair slightly. "Like I said, I care about you. You'd worked a double shift."
Travis backs away somewhat so he can see me better, I assume. "So had you. And when I mentioned it, you called me 'Ensign'."
"I was confused. You sounded truly concerned and I didn't think that you cared for me that way..."
"I do."
Smiling at him, I can't resist the retort. "That's twice now you've interrupted me."
"I haven't interrupted. You can't finish a statement." He waves his hand in the space between us. "You were confused because you didn't know how I felt so you..." A look of sudden understanding appears on his face. "Oh. I get it."
I know without asking that he's discovered the secret to one of my defense mechanisms. The reliance on rank. I know this because he's got that Mona Lisa smile again. He wraps his arms around and pulls us down so we're spooned up against each other on his bed; my back against his chest. Once again, I can feel his breath against my ear as he speaks.
"No more Ensign. Only on duty."
"I promise."
Lying down on the bed has reminded my body of the hours I've worked today. The exhaustion of a hard day's work has finally caught up with me. I can feel a yawn threatening. I don't want to leave. But I need to sleep.
One of my shoes hits the floor before it's followed by the other. Travis' has apparently kicked them off with his own feet. Both of his shoes quickly follow suit. One of his hands travels up from my chest before softly stroking my cheek.
"Ready to rest now, Malcolm?"
I don't have a clean uniform here. I have an early morning shift. The targeting system is probably still out of alignment. I'll look rumpled and rather improper when I return to my quarters in the morning.
"Definitely."
The certainity behind my words surprises me. But that's what I wanted, wasn't it. I can feel Travis pressed up against me. I know he'll be here all night and when I wake up in the morning. Definitely certainity.
-fin-