Disclosures

Trip figured he was running faster than a man with a paper ass through a forest fire, but even so Travis was a mere speck ahead of them in the fading light and T'Pol was cutting through the trees with a fleetness that was astounding.

Jon was helping him run, Trip's arm dangling and useless, each step sending a jolting pain through his shoulder. He could hear phase pistol fire behind them and Malcolm yelling at them to keep off the dirt and to stay on the grass as much as possible.

It was supposed to be a simple survey mission on this Minshara class planet with no sentient life forms. For two days botanists, geologists, xenobiologists, and other life science crew members had studied this world, taking samples and recordings of whatever items of interest their specialties held.

Jon finally permitted a brief shore leave for the rest of the crew, allowing his people to walk on soil again, swimming in the microbe- free lake, and exploring the surrounding forest. He'd even brought Porthos down, much to the small dog's elation.

It was getting close to dusk and Trip had been in this last team, ready to return to the ship, but T'Pol had wanted to take mineral samples from a cave Travis had discovered. Travis had, with his characteristic charm and enthusiasm, insisted that Jon see the interior and Trip decided to tag along. Malcolm joined them as well, citing security reasons, but Trip could see his friend's curiosity had been piqued by a whispered comment from Travis.

The walk from the shuttle pod led them to the unassuming mouth of a cavern, and when they entered and Travis switched on his flashlight, the humans couldn't help gasping in amazement. Trip thought that he had even heard T'Pol take a breath.

It was beautiful. The beam from Travis' light lit the cave, causing the minerals to shimmer and glow in response, saturating the cave with a rainbow of vibrant and fluorescent colors. As they walked further in, a melodic sound filled the air, tone and harmony changing each time anyone moved.

T'Pol was the first to break from their collective enchantment. Calmly she began to collect specimens, asking Travis to record the sound. Trip took pictures with his camera, ever the tourist. Malcolm had his scanner out, splitting his attention between it, his surroundings, and darting glances at his ex-lover.

Trip snapped a candid shot of Jon and grinned. He hadn't seen his best friend look so happy in months. The sheer delight on the man's face made Trip chuckle.

He saw Malcolm approach Jon, a tentative smile on the armory officer's face.

"Lovely, isn't it, sir?"

Jon turned with a dazzling smile. "It's magnificent. My God, Malcolm…" Jon trailed off, the beauty of his surroundings leaving him speechless.

Malcolm dropped his voice down lower and Trip strained to hear. "It makes everything else worthwhile, doesn't it? It's the reason you're out here. You shouldn't forget that."

Jon nodded, watching the colors glitter and twinkle. He swallowed and looked at Malcolm again. "It's just hard to remember sometimes."

"I know." Malcolm shot a look at Jon before studying his scanner once more. "You just need reminding on occasion. You've led us to some truly remarkable things. You're an explorer, sir. Don't let the pressure from Starfleet make you forget that."

Jon opened his mouth to say something, reaching out to touch Malcolm, but Malcolm moved beyond his grasp, eyes intent on his scanner, a slight frown creasing his brow. Jon let his hand drop as he watched his beloved walk away.

The sound changed as Travis and T'Pol moved deeper into the cavern, T'Pol selecting another area from which to collect samples. Travis called them over to see another curiosity—the walls were not only glowing, but the colors were now altering in a slow and mesmerizing pattern in time to the sound, which grew just a bit louder and more mellifluous.

"I'm getting an odd reading," Malcolm said, ignoring the sound and light show. "It appears and disappears, but I think it registered as organic. Could be a glitch. Perhaps something in these rocks giving a false reading…"

Trip listened with half an ear, feeling relaxed and satisfied as he took a few more pictures. He absently noticed that T'Pol and Travis were merely staring at the wall, transfixed by the colors. Jon had moved to Malcolm's side, giving his scanner a cursory look before gazing at the spellbinding walls again. Trip walked past them, the sound soothing, drawing him further into the cave. He lifted his camera to his eye, framing his next shot.

"There it is again! I think it's coming toward us…" Malcolm said, eyes still on his scanner. Malcolm hurried over to Trip, one hand on his phase pistol.

Trip heard a rattling of pebbles and suddenly his arm was yanked away from his face and his shoulder exploded into agony. He cried out in surprise and pain as he was swept from his feet, dragged by the whip- thin yellow tendril wrapped around his wrist. He struggled, his shoulder blazing and his other hand flailing, trying to find some purchase. The yellow appendage tightened, slicing into his skin and he heard something rustle ahead of him.

Then there was the whine of a phase pistol and his forward momentum stopped. The yellow thing was still wrapped around his wrist, but severed, the burnt end smoking a little. He was hauled upright and pushed toward Jon, who caught him. He saw the startled look on the captain's face and heard Malcolm's pistol discharge again. "Out, now!" Malcolm yelled, backing up and firing steadily.

More tendrils followed, seeking, and then something big came at them.

They ran.

***

Trip was beginning to feel a bit lightheaded, but he didn't know if it was from the excruciating pain radiating from his shoulder or from this seemingly endless run.

He glanced back, trusting Jon not to slam him into a tree or letting him stumble as they fled. Malcolm was firing again, and the two creatures stopped for a moment in reaction to being hit, then continued their pursuit, separating in an attempt to herd them. So Malcolm took off in another direction and into the dirt. The creatures responded and focused on him, drawn away from the rest of the team.

Trip thought they were twice as big as a grizzly and about four times as ugly: orange-red carapaced monstrosities with thick green millipede-like legs of nightmarish portions. They moved fast, undulating up and down, several of those sharp yellow filaments whipping out trying to seize their quarry.

He saw a tendril extend toward Malcolm and the armory officer dashed between two trees, sliding through the slender gap and onto a narrow stretch of turf. The first creature moved parallel to him, remaining on the soil. Another filament snaked out toward Malcolm and he fired. The creature moved, evading the shot, but Malcolm fired again. It halted and shuddered as it was hit, and Malcolm sprinted away as the second creature came barreling from behind on another dirt path.

Trip faced forward, the trees thinning and the shuttlepod in sight. The hatch was open, the engine on, and T'Pol was just ducking into the pod.

Jon flung Trip inside, and Trip yelled again as his shoulder was jostled. Jon ran to the storage locker and withdrew another phase pistol, thumbing it to the kill setting.

Travis was waiting tensely, eyes on the portal and ready to take off the moment Malcolm was on board, regardless of the hatch being secured or not.

Malcolm ran out of grass and made a mad dash to the pod along the dirt, the creatures gaining, their tendrils seeming to elongate as they sensed the proximity of their prey.

Jon fired steadily at the closest one, making it stop for a moment. Malcolm dove headfirst for the opening and the second creature cast out one long yellow limb.

He was halfway inside when the tendril wrapped around his ankle.

Malcolm swore as he landed hard and was roughly hauled backwards. His phase pistol fell with a clatter onto the deck as his hands darted out to grip the hatchway.

He bellowed in pain as the creature yanked harder, stretching him, two more yellow limbs joining the other. It lifted him up, his hands sliding desperately along the hatchway until he found something to latch onto. Trip saw that his knuckles were white, his muscles bulging and tendons raised as he tried to hang on, kicking and squirming in mid-air. The thing pulled harder and Malcolm's hands began to slip.

Jon fired continuously at the creature as T'Pol braced herself and clamped iron fingers around Malcolm's wrists. She pulled backwards, using all her Vulcan strength to keep their armory officer from being snatched away. The first creature recovered and started moving again.

Trip scrabbled over and picked up Malcolm's gun. He aimed carefully.

The beam slashed through the tendrils and T'Pol jerked Malcolm into the pod, the abrupt release startling them both and sending them sprawling. Travis lifted off and Jon hit the door lock. They heard several thumps against the side of the pod as the creatures tried to seize it.

Travis maneuvered away from the creatures and then they were airborne.

Malcolm laid panting and sweating, head pillowed on T'Pol's stomach where he had landed. She let him catch his breath before tapping him on the shoulder.

He looked at her, then realized where he was. His face flushed as he quickly rolled off her, scrambling to his feet. He let out a yelp of pain and cursed, stumbling. Jon steadied him and Malcolm pulled away, sitting back down on the deck, clutching his ankle. Blood oozed from between his fingers.

Trip's shoulder was throbbing, his wrist bleeding freely and he sank down against a bulkhead, trying not to jar anything further.

T'Pol went to fetch the medical kit as Jon looked between the two men. But Malcolm only had eyes for Trip, an expression of concern and something else Jon couldn't interpret on Malcolm's face. With an odd feeling twisting in his gut, Jon made his reluctant choice. He knelt next to Trip.

"Are you okay?"

Trip breathed out a pained laugh. "Hurts like a sonuvabitch. I think it's dislocated…"

"Malcolm?" Jon asked, busy with gently removing the dead yellow tendril still wrapped around Trip's wrist.

"Fine, sir. It's just a sprain."

"Sprains don't bleed, Lieutenant," Jon snapped as he took the medkit from T'Pol. He cleaned Trip's wrist, careful not to move his friend's arm too much. He bandaged it and took out a hypospray, pushing the kit toward T'Pol. He jerked his head toward Malcolm. "Check him, please." He didn't look at Malcolm again until they docked.

***

Phlox cleared everyone except for Trip and Malcolm. He assured the captain that a stint in decon would easily destroy the bacteria deposited by the creatures' tendrils. Phlox was cheerfully anticipating the examination of the severed appendages.

Jon watched Trip help Malcolm, the lieutenant unable to put much weight on his leg. He saw Malcolm wrap an arm around Trip's waist, leaning on him, mindful of the engineer's shoulder as he maneuvered Trip carefully through the door.

The ease and familiarity of their physical contact caused a covetous stab of emotion. Jon turned away.

***

Trip was woozy and exhausted, but feeling pretty damn good. Phlox had reset his shoulder, manipulating it back into the socket. Malcolm had insisted that the doctor either knock Trip out or give him the strongest painkiller possible. Phlox pointed out that he was the doctor, but Malcolm countered with a fierce intensity that he knew how painful the procedure could be. Phlox paused, and then nodded.

Trip didn't want to spend the night in sickbay. They settled on the painkiller.

It hadn't hurt a bit. Still didn't.

He grinned at Malcolm, their shuffling progress down the corridor with Malcolm's limping gait making him feel like he was in a slow- motion three legged race. The thought made him giggle a bit, his smile growing.

Malcolm looked at him and Trip admired the murky blue of Malcolm's half open eyes and the dark ring of lashes that shaded them. He readjusted his grip around Malcolm's waist a little, pulling him closer and feeling the man's warmth through his tee shirt. He retained enough prudence not to let his eyes travel down Malcolm's body, tantalizingly dressed in a pair of thin sickbay pants which matched his own. Trip looked down at the deck instead and snickered again at the sight of Malcolm's toes barely visible under the baggy legs.

"He gave you the good stuff, didn't he?" Trip heard the amusement in Malcolm's voice.

"Yeah, he musta broke out his special reserve."

Malcolm chuckled. "Lucky bastard. He gave me the second rate rubbish." Trip laughed and Malcolm gave him a wide lazy smile.

Trip must have stared too long, captivated by that warm open grin, for Malcolm looked a bit flustered, then dropped his gaze to the deck. Stifling a yawn, he leaned into Trip as they navigated around a corner.

"Tired?" Trip asked.

Malcolm nodded. "Between the fun we had today and Phlox's cut rate analgesics, I'm knackered. Can't wait to crawl into bed."

Trip repressed a shudder, trying to ignore the memory of Malcolm using himself as bait as he led those creatures away from the landing party. "How'd you figure out to stay on the grass?" he asked instead.

"I noticed that they avoided it. They were even willing to absorb phase pistol fire rather than move onto the grass to get out of the way—but if they were on the dirt they tried to dodge it. Too bad we didn't land in a meadow; would've saved me a trip to sickbay."

They wound up in front of Malcolm's quarters, neither feeling like making their way down to the messhall and fighting the dinner crowd. Malcolm entered his code and Trip helped him in. Malcolm pulled away, steadying himself against the bulkhead.

"Thanks. I can make do from here on out."

Trip sat down on the bunk. "Are ya sure? Cuz the doc said you should keep off that ankle for at least 24 hours."

Malcolm hobbled towards the head, supporting himself on every surface within reach. "I'm sure I can manage to shower and brush my teeth without assistance, Commander."

"I'll just hang out in case you get stuck in there, Lieutenant," Trip drawled and Malcolm rolled his eyes as he closed the door.

When Malcolm emerged, he pulled up short.

Trip was asleep, stretched out in his bunk.

Malcolm didn't have the heart to wake him. The man looked drained. His face was still drawn, his skin a bit pallid. Malcolm looked at the small couch, then the floor. He limped over to his bed instead, too tired to care. He crawled under the covers, careful not to disturb Trip.

"If you kick my ankle in the middle of the night, I'll boot your sorry arse out of this bed regardless of the hour, Mr. Tucker," he said softly and leaned over his friend to turn off the light.

***

Trip woke less than two hours later, befuddled. He still felt a trifle floaty, his shoulder aching from lying on it. He started to roll over, but an arm around his chest tightened, holding him in place and a warm weight behind him squirmed closer. He could feel a soft puff of breath on the back of his neck. There was a leg over his, and it registered that his hand was curled around that muscular thigh.

He carefully, and with some regret, rolled to his back. Malcolm shifted as well, not releasing him.

Trip studied him with pleasure, still drifting.

He loved watching his friend sleep, so relaxed and unguarded in slumber. An innocence that suited him, although Trip would never say that to his face.

Trip gave in to an impulse and kissed Malcolm's tempting lips. He half expected them to be spicy, just like the first and last time he had kissed them. He brushed his tongue across them, tasting.

Malcolm's fluttered eyes opened.

"Trip?" Malcolm looked confused, a bewildered expression that made Trip smile. Tousled and sleepy eyed, Trip thought he was adorable. His grin widened.

"Did you…?" Malcolm hesitated, not quite sure what had woken him. He licked his lips, then noticed that he was draped over his commanding officer.

He moved away. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize—"

Trip heard the hint of anxiety in his voice and cut him off. "S'okay. I like it." He turned on his side, scooting closer and Malcolm retreated until his bare back hit the wall.

"Trip…"

Trip reached out, throwing caution and months of waffling to the wind. It was liberating.

He brushed his fingers across Malcolm's lips, then stroked up to one cheekbone. "I like it a lot, Malcolm. I like you a lot."

Malcolm closed his eyes, a shaky breath escaping him. "You've got a system full of meds, Trip. Go back to sleep."

Trip continued his caress. "You know, I'm tired of beating around the bush, Malcolm. I didn't say anythin' and then you were with Jon. So I waited. When that ended, I didn't want to catch you on the rebound, so I waited. And then those bastards damn near killed you, and I couldn't say anything then. I'm tired of waitin'."

Malcolm wanted to move, but Trip's gentle fingers compelled him to remain. Trip stroked up and into his hair, and Malcolm basked in the loving touch before opening his eyes. He forced himself to sit up and edged away.

"I can't do this, Trip."

Trip sat up as well, grabbing his hand.

"Why? Tell me that I'm wrong; that you don't feel the same and I'll apologize. My mistake, okay? Just tell me that you don't want this too and I'll leave you alone—still friends and no hard feelings, Malcolm. Just tell me, truthfully, that you don't want this."

Malcolm's eyes were dark in the dim light, and Trip thought that perhaps he had pushed too hard.

"You're my best friend, Trip. I don't want to ruin that, and if we get…involved…I will. I always do." Malcolm's fingers tightened around Trip's involuntarily. "I couldn't bear that." Trip saw Malcolm swallow as he lowered his eyes.

"I think our friendship's a good startin' place for somethin' more. It could be even better than this," Trip held their hands up. He went for broke. "I'm pretty sure I've fallen in love with you, Malcolm. And I want more."

Malcolm's head snapped up, his eyes wide and Trip had to laugh at the startled look.

"Trip…"

He leaned forward and kissed Malcolm.

It was just like before, like that night at the bar. Trip felt Malcolm respond, shy and unsure, almost chaste.

Until Malcolm reached up and lightly touched the back of Trip's neck, fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer. Then it was that same rush of ardor, that same intensity and passion, a fiery duel of tongues and lips, and he heard Malcolm moan softly.

Malcolm pulled away, something dawning in his eyes. "My pleasure. Definitely my pleasure…" he murmured, repeating the words from that night, a vague memory slowly unfolding.

Trip grinned, happily surprised. He leaned forward again and Malcolm moved closer to meet him.

The arm Trip was using to support himself sent an extremely nasty jolt through his sore shoulder.

"Sonuvabitch!" he swore in pain and struggled off it.

Kicking Malcolm's ankle in the process.

"Bloody buggering hell!" Malcolm drew his leg up, bending to hold his ankle. Trip hunched forward at the same time clutching his shoulder. They cracked their heads together.

"Fuck!" Their twin cries reverberated through the small room.

Malcolm flopped down on the bed, rubbing his head. He started to laugh and Trip dropped next to him, hand massaging his own head and chuckling.

They reclined in a comfortable silence for a few moments. Malcolm looked at Trip. "This will be a disaster, you know. It's a bloody awful idea…"

Trip smile and snaked out a hand, eager to feel that warm flesh again. Jon had told him once that Malcolm was very responsive to being touched, and Trip was ready to use every tactic in his arsenal to convince the man to give him a chance.

Trip's fingers played over Malcolm's stomach, rubbing it as he had that morning on Strolof. He had enjoyed that smooth skin, the sparse sprinkling of hair, the firmness that lay beneath. Trip saw Malcolm close his eyes with a contented sigh, a slight smile curling his lips as he relaxed into Trip's touch.

"We can go slow, Malcolm. Whatever you're comfortable with. I've waited this long, I don't mind waitin' til you've thought it over."

"You're impossible. We'll likely end up killing each other."

Trip leaned over and kissed him again. "Yeah, but what a way to go."

***

Trip woke once more in the night with Malcolm's arms wrapped around him, head pillowed on Malcolm's shoulder, his leg across the man's thighs.

Trip realized Malcolm was cradling him, holding him close.

It felt natural.

It felt good.

It was heaven.

***

He looked at his lover splayed out before him, bound face down on the bed, head turned to one side, the ballgag in his mouth. He didn't want to talk this evening; didn't want to hear the voice of the man beneath him.

Simon's eyes were half closed, a glaze of pleasure in them. Jon thrust harder, grunting as Simon squirmed the best he could to meet him. Hovering on the verge of coming, Jon bit Simon, breaking the flesh, signaling his impending release. Simon clenched his muscles, drawing a shuddering orgasm from Jon.

He lay panting on top of Simon, the man easily bearing his weight. He rested, feeling the sweat cooling on his back, the warmth of the long body below him, the broad shoulders of his lover cushioning his head.

Eventually Jon rose, physical needs sated, and released Simon from his bonds. He went to the head to clean up and when he returned, Simon was gone.

Jon never invited him to stay the night. Didn't want him to, if the truth be told. And Simon didn't mind. Jon knew, if the truth were to be told again, that Simon didn't care to. It was just sex, nothing more. Neither wanted to invest in an emotional relationship with the other. They were just kindred spirits in their carnal tastes, that's all.

It wasn't enough for Jon.

He cursed the mistakes he had made as he stripped the sheets, still wet from Simon's sweat and seed. He re-made the bed and Porthos, who had sat quietly in the corner while he was occupied with Simon, jumped up to share his sleep with him.

As much as he loved Porthos, a dog was a poor substitute for the man whom he still wanted to share his bed; the one he had belatedly realized he wanted to share his life and his love.

He turned off the light, jealous and resentful, cursing himself once more.