Chapter Text
The air inside the bar was warm and alive with laughter that echoed like static through the haze of colored lights.
Trip grinned like a man who’d just been granted shore leave on paradise itself. “Now this,” he said, sweeping a hand at the crowded room, “is more like it. Two whole days without duty rosters or diagnostics. I might actually start rememberin’ what fun feels like.”
Malcolm Reed chuckled, trying to sound as though he agreed. “You make it sound as though we’re old men, Commander.”
Trip slanted him a grin. “Speak for yourself, Lieutenant. Some of us still got stamina left.”
They’d found a table near the edge. The crowd was a swirl of color and texture. Aliens of half a dozen species, all laughing, flirting in ways Malcolm could never quite imagine himself moving.
Still, he wanted to try.
He’d promised himself he’d try.
When Trip pointed out a trio of striking women with coral-colored skin and silver eyes, Malcolm gamely followed him over. He smiled, introduced himself, even managed a joke or two. One of them laughed and Trip raised his eyebrows at him in a way that made Malcolm feel absurdly pleased.
They chatted a while longer, but it was Trip’s easy charm that held the group together. When one of the women leaned closer to Trip and brushed his arm, Malcolm found himself stepping back slightly, letting the Commander steer the conversation.
It became a pattern over the next hour. Trip leading, Malcolm trailing along, both of them sharing drinks and conversation with various women from various worlds. Malcolm was polite, attentive, even managing a smile that felt almost natural.
Almost.
But as the night wore on, the illusion began to crack.
Trip still had that boundless enthusiasm. Laughing, flirting, catching glances from across the room, but Malcolm found his own responses growing mechanical. His smiles didn’t quite reach his eyes. His jokes came slower, thinner. Every time he tried to push through it, to convince himself he was having fun, a quiet heaviness settled back over
They’d just finished talking with a group of turquoise women when Trip spotted the two dermal aliens sitting near the bar. Tall, willowy, their skin rippling faintly with color like sunlight on water.
“Now there’s somethin’ you don’t see every day,” Trip murmured appreciatively.
Malcolm followed his gaze. “Quite,” he said, his voice a careful imitation of interest.
Trip elbowed him lightly. “Alright, come on then. Let’s not waste a perfectly good opportunity.”
The women smiled when they approached. Trip was his usual self—quick, funny, disarmingly confident. Malcolm mirrored him at first, offering compliments and conversation, trying to appear engaged. His companion, a dark-eyed beauty whose skin shimmered faintly gold, seemed intrigued at first.
But as the minutes ticked by, Malcolm felt himself slipping again. His attention drifted. He let Trip carry the talk, nodding absently at questions, answering when pressed. His drink grew warm in his hand.
By the time Trip cracked a joke that drew laughter from both women, Malcolm’s companion had already begun glancing toward the dance floor, interest fading.
Trip noticed. Of course he did.
“Hey,” he said brightly, “how about another round? My treat.”
The women agreed, and Trip gestured for Malcolm to follow him toward the bar. As soon as they were out of earshot, the Commander leaned in close.
“Alright, Malcolm,” Trip said, lowering his voice. “You’re losin’ her. What’s goin’ on? You were doin’ fine earlier.”
Malcolm kept his gaze on the bar’s glass counter. “Nothing’s going on.”
“Come on. You’re sittin’ there like you’re waitin’ for a tactical alert. You gotta relax. Smile. Ask her about herself, where she’s from. You can’t just stare at your drink the whole night.”
Malcolm’s mouth twitched. “I appreciate the coaching, but I’m perfectly capable.”
Trip gave him a look. “You were capable about two hours ago. Now you look like you’d rather be back on Enterprise.”
“Maybe I would,” Malcolm murmured.
Trip frowned, clearly puzzled. “Hey, I know it’s been a long week, but we finally got a break. Don’t give up halfway through the night. You just need to loosen up a bit. You’re a good-lookin’ guy, you’ve got that mysterious accent thing—”
“Trip,” Malcolm interrupted, more sharply than he meant to.
Trip blinked at him.
Malcolm sighed, his shoulders sagging. “You don’t understand. You can tell me whatever you like, how to smile, what to say, but it’ll all be for nothing.”
Trip tilted his head, concern creeping into his voice. “What do you mean, nothin’?”
Malcolm hesitated. He turned the glass slowly between his hands, the condensation slick beneath his fingers. “Because I don’t want to pick her up,” he said finally. His voice was quiet, careful. “I don’t want to pick anyone up.”
He didn’t look at Trip as he said it. Couldn’t. The words hung there between them.
Trip stared at him for a heartbeat too long.
Trip’s first instinct was to ask—What do you mean? Why not? Are you alright?—but the look on Malcolm’s face stopped him cold.
Malcolm wasn’t looking at him. He was staring at the glass in his hands, shoulders drawn tight, jaw clenched. His expression wasn’t one Trip recognized from any drill, any mission, any danger they’d faced together. There was something else there. Something wary, almost afraid.
Trip’s confusion twisted into something quieter, gentler.
He cleared his throat, careful to keep his voice light. “Well,” he said slowly, “that’s alright then.”
Malcolm blinked, just once, his head turning slightly as if he hadn’t heard right.
Trip managed a small, easy grin. “Shore leave’s not just about pickin’ people up. It’s about gettin’ off that ship for a bit, rememberin’ what fresh air feels like. If the bar scene’s not doin’ it for you, we’ll find somethin’ else. There’s plenty to do on this rock.”
Malcolm finally looked up at him, eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion. “Trip…”
“What?” Trip said, all casual good humor again, taking a sip of his drink. “You think I dragged you all the way down here just to get us dates?”
The faintest hint of a smile tugged at Malcolm’s mouth. “That did seem to be your mission objective, yes.”
Trip chuckled. “Guess I’ll have to file a change of plans, then. C’mon, let’s find somethin’ we both actually enjoy. Maybe there’s a place around here that serves real food, or one of those gravity-surfing things Travis was talkin’ about.”
Malcolm’s grip on his glass eased, and for the first time in a long while, he looked at Trip. The bright, easy expression, the calm tone. Trip was pretending nothing had happened, and Malcolm knew it. But the act wasn’t meant to dismiss him. It was Trip’s way of giving him space, a quiet reassurance that nothing between them had shifted.
Not yet.
And Malcolm, for all his nerves, was grateful.
He nodded once, briskly. “That sounds nice, actually.”
“Good.” Trip grinned and turned toward the crowd, flagging down the two women with a friendly wave. “Ladies, it’s been a pleasure, but I think we’re gonna call it a night. Y’all enjoy yourselves.”
They seemed confused, but Trip handled it with his usual charm. Within seconds, he had Malcolm moving toward the exit, the press of bodies and noise fading behind them.
Outside, the air was cooler. For a moment they stood there in silence, the noise of the club fading into the background hum of the city.
Trip exhaled slowly. “You okay?” he asked, quietly this time.
Malcolm glanced over, surprised by the softness in the question. “Yes,” he said. “I think so.”
Trip nodded. “Good. We’ll just take the night as it comes.”
Malcolm’s throat tightened a little at that simple kindness. He knew questions would coming. Trip Tucker wasn’t the sort to let something like that go unanswered forever. There’d be a talk later, one way or another.
But not now.
Now, Trip was just standing there beside him, easy smile in place, pretending like the only thing that mattered was finding somewhere decent to eat.
For the moment, that was exactly what Malcolm needed.