He had made disapproving noises at first, insisting that they should continue the scans of the area, but after ten minutes of Tucker’s prodding, he was forced to admit that the water looked awfully nice. In another five, Malcolm had given in and joined his friend and superior officer in the crystal-blue water.

Now, sitting on the bench in the unusually stuffy Decontamination Chamber with Trip, Malcolm couldn’t help but recall the ripple of the other man’s well-formed muscles as he frolicked in the sun and water. Malcolm silently chastised himself for such wildly inappropriate thoughts about his superior, but he stole a look at the man anyway.

He averted his eyes immediately. Trip was watching him. His rebellious sensory organs drifted back to the commander, and he discovered that the man was not simply watching him; he was watching him quite avidly. Malcolm began to try to consider his options through the aroused haze that was rapidly overtaking his brain. He vaguely knew that what he wanted to do was also the phenomenally stupid thing to do, but his brainpower was rapidly diminishing, and with it his willpower.

Luckily, he was saved from himself by the interruption of Phlox’s voice over the comm, informing him and the commander that they were both clean and free to go.

The two men bolted from the chamber as soon as the doors opened. They threw on their uniforms, retreating to their separate corners of the ship once out of the kiting room. The men busied themselves with whatever work they could find, each trying to forget his thoughts about the other in decon and the fact that maybe, just maybe, those thoughts had been returned.

It was not surprising, then, that his first thought, upon rounding a corner and seeing Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed grappling in the middle of the hall, was that he should have known that it was all too good to last.

“What the hell do you two think you’re doing?!” Archer bellowed at his officers, ignoring the tiny crowd of spectators that had formed around the pair. “You could both be cashiered out of the service for fighting with another officer! Are you listening to me?! Stop it this instant!”

The two men remained locked together, and as Archer and T’Pol approached the scene, the Vulcan inhaled sharply. “Captain, I do not believe that the lieutenant and the commander are fighting.”

Archer squinted at his Science Officer, opening his mouth to question her. His words stopped on his tongue, however, when he looked back at the two men, finally getting a good look as the crowd parted for him. His mouth hung open like a landed fish’s. What he had taken for clumsy fighting from afar was in fact a passionate embrace. A very, very passionate embrace.

Trip’s uniform was unzipped as far as it would go, and Malcolm fought to push it off of his shoulders while their tongues delved into each other’s mouths. Both men had prominent erections straining to be free of their pants, and the unseemly question of how he had managed to acquire two such well-endowed officers flitted through Archer’s mind. His higher brain functions started to kick back in at about the time Malcolm finally worked Trip’s shoulders free of his jumpsuit, hands dipping to explore beneath the waistline.

“Tucker! Reed! This is not the place!” Neither man appeared to have heard him, though everyone else in the hallway jumped, first at the sound of Archer’s voice, and then again at the sound of Trip slamming Malcolm into a bulkhead.

The engineer made quick work of the smaller man’s jumpsuit, jerking it off his shoulders and down past his hips. Next to go was Malcolm’s black shirt, buttons flying everywhere as it was ripped open. Soon the lieutenant was clad only in bright blue Starfleet undergarments, uniform pooled around his ankles as he was pressed up against the wall by the attentive Southerner.

Archer knew that drastic measures needed to be taken to stop the two men, and soon, when he saw Trip, with a hungry glint in his eyes, begin to curl his fingers around the waistband of Malcolm’s boxer-briefs. Luckily, T’Pol had apparently had the same thought and, before Archer could move from where he was rooted, she stepped up behind Tucker, applying some sort of nerve pinch to his neck so that he crumpled to the floor, unconscious, preventing him from divesting Reed of any more of his clothing. Lost in his aroused daze, Malcolm barely had the chance to register that the hand settling on his neck was not that of Commander Tucker before he too was rendered unconscious by the Vulcan woman.

The show over, the crewmen who had gathered to watch the two men making-out in the corridor began to mill uneasily and readily complied with Archer’s subsequent, and strongly worded, suggestion that they all find someplace else to be. T’Pol stood over her unconscious crewmates, patiently waiting for Archer to redirect his attention to her. When the somewhat frazzled looking captain finally met her gaze, T’Pol did not hesitate to offer up her opinion on what needed to be done.

“Captain, It would be best if we were to get Mr. Reed and Mr. Tucker to Sickbay. It is obvious that they are not themselves, and it would, I think, be safest if Phlox saw to them immediately.”

“Good idea, T’Pol,” said Archer in a weary tone of voice. “We should probably restrain them as well. Just in case they want to start going at it again when they wake up. Neither of them was being very gentle, and I would hate for one of them to get hurt.

“Good thing we’re on E deck. Sickbay’s not very far.” Knowing full well that Vulcans possess much greater strength than Humans, Archer scooped Malcolm up off the floor, leaving T’Pol to deal with the larger, heavier Trip. As he made his way to Sickbay, arms full of mussed Armoury Officer, Archer cast a fervent prayed to long neglected gods that, whatever was wrong with his two officers, it wasn’t catching.

“Out of slap? I think you mean whack, Doctor. The expression is ‘to throw something out of whack.’”

“Ah, yes. ‘Out of whack.’ I knew it was some sort of striking motion. Peculiar expression.”

“Uh, Doc, about this neuro-toxin... Do you have any idea where it came from, or if it could affect other members of the crew?”

“It had to have come from something the commander and lieutenant ingested. A liquid of some sort, most likely. As no one else seems to be suffering from this particular malady, I imagine it must have been consumed when they were on the planet two days ago. No, no, everyone else is quite safe.”

Archer was distracted from asking anymore questions for the time being because Trip chose that moment to surface from his Vulcan-induced slumber. Blue eyes opened and squinted shut again as the lights in Sickbay reacted with Tucker’s headache.

“Awww, man. Ah feel lak Ah’ve got a four-alarm hangover.” His accent was thick and got worse when he tried to rub his eyes, only to discover that he was strapped to the bed, and couldn’t. “What the hell? R’straints? Y’all put me in r’straints?! Ah don’ friggen’ believe this!”

“Now, Trip,” said Archer, “you weren’t exactly responsive before... at least not to me... and we didn’t want you hurting Malcolm again when you woke up.”

“Hurt Malcolm? Again?” Trip’s eyes widened and he started to struggle against the straps. “Where is he? Is he a’right?”

“Easy, Trip. He’s fine. He’ll have a nasty bruise on his back from when you slammed him against the bulkhead, but you didn’t break anything.”

“Where is he?!”

“Right over there, Trip.” Archer pointed over to where Malcolm lay a few biobeds down. “Now relax.” The engineer looked over at the dark haired man, his whole body straining in that direction, obviously wishing to go to him. “Trip! Look at me, Trip. I ... I need to ask you some questions so we can help you and Malcolm.”

That got the his attention, and the blonde head snapped around to focus on his captain. “Help us? What kind of questions?”

“Phlox says that the neuro-toxin that is affecting you was ingested. Did you and Malcolm eat or drink anything while you were on that planet two days ago?”

“N-no. We did go swimmin’, though.”

“Swimming? Trip, what does that have to do with anything?”

“Well, you know how it is when you’re foolin’ around in the water; y’ alw’s end up drinkin’ half the pool, lake, whatever.”

Archer turned to the doctor, asking, “Could this thing have been in the water?”

“Oh, most certainly, Captain. That would explain why it is such a relatively mild toxin. The nasty ones tend to crop up in alcohol, or fruits that have been left out in the sun too long.”

“Can you come up with an antidote now?”

“I suppose, but there’s not much point. By the time I contrive an antidote the toxin will probably have finished breaking down, and its by-products well on their way out of the gentlemen’s systems. In this instance, it’s just as well to let nature run her course.”

The captain’s attention returned to his friend who was squirming restlessly again. Trip was breathing heavily, eyes dilated, and Archer was about to ask Phlox what was wrong with the man when the engineer began to speak again.

“Aw, Cap’n, y’ shoulda seen ‘im. Ah actually got ‘im to unwind, stop bein’ such a tight-ass, an’ go skinny-dippin’ wi’ me. Gawd... Ah knew before that ‘e had a nice body, but... oh, man, what a sight. So beautiful... Back in decon, Ah j’st couldn’t keep mah eyes offa ‘im. Ah wanted... wanted ‘im so bad, but Ah wasn’t sure if the looks ‘e was givin’ me were interested or what. But in the corridor today ... It was lak one o’ them perfect romance movies where the lovers j’st look in each other’s eyes and ... know. An’ when we kissed ... the world j’st disappeared.”

There was a low moan from the other biobed as Malcolm started to regain consciousness, and Trip’s head snapped toward him, Archer’s presence suddenly forgotten.

“Malcolm!”

“Trip? Trip!” Archer watched with a shocked fascination as his Armoury Officer lunged at his restraints in a desperate attempt to reach Trip. “Damn it, release me! Let me go! I need to get to him, to be with him!! Trip!” Malcolm’s struggle became more violent. He pulled at the straps, bucking and jerking in the bed, causing the whole thing to shake. The skin on his wrists and ankles was being rubbed raw from the friction of the straps, but he didn’t seem to notice, intent as he was on getting to Tucker.

“Malcolm, stop it!” Archer yelled at the writhing officer. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“Malcolm,” Trip moaned. He was becoming aroused, hips bucking forward rhythmically as he struggled against his own restraints. “Need you ... need to feel you touch me.”

The words had an effect on the smaller man, though not the one Archer would have wished for. Malcolm’s struggles actually increased, and Archer noticed that the straps were beginning to loosen.

“Doctor! Would you please sedate these two before they injure themselves?!”

“I’m already on it, Captain,” came Phlox’s calm voice as he bustled toward the lieutenant’s biobed, hypospray in hand. He pressed the instrument into one large, pulsing vein in the side of Malcolm’s neck, emptying part of its contents into his bloodstream with a hiss. The sedative took immediate effect, taking the edge off of the lieutenant’s hysteria, though not entirely stilling his movements. Phlox injected another, smaller dose, and moved on to do the same for Tucker.

Once both men were once again lying still in sleep, Archer let out the breath he had been holding. He caught Phlox’s eye and said, “What do you say to keeping them sedated until this toxin works its way out of their systems?”

“I would say that would probably be wise.”

He had not seen the lieutenant since the night before, when they had been allowed to return to their quarters after lengthy scans to ensure that they were free of the toxin and its by-products. His hope that Malcolm would do something, anything to let him know that their intense, almost love affair wouldn’t adversely affect their friendship had not borne fruit. The man could have been on an entirely different ship for all that he had seen of him. Despondent, Trip considered the situation and decided that he would be totally unsurprised should Malcolm hold him fully responsible for this whole mess and never speak to him again.

The door chimed, and he called for his visitor to enter, fully expecting to see Jonathan Archer coming in for a chat. The man who entered was not the tall captain but rather the compact Armoury Officer.

“Hullo, Trip. I was wondering, or rather I was thinking that, assuming you have a minute, we really ought to ... well, to have a talk about, um, what happened, ah, between us.”

Trip watched Malcolm fidget as he waited for a reply, motioning for him to take a seat after a moment. “Yeah, I s’pose we ought to at that. How you doin’?”

“Ah, um, fine. Fine. My back’s a bit sore and I don’t have much skin left on my wrists and ankles, but I ... I’m fine.”

“Good. Good to hear.”

Silence descended on the small room, neither man knowing how to continue, how to say what needed to be said so badly. Trip watched his friend from beneath lowered lashes, remembering how beautiful the man had looked: on the planet, water running off his naked form; in decon, his profile illuminated by the blue lights; in the corridor, face flushed with desire and eyes burning for him, only for him.

Trip’s throat constricted, tears welling in his eyes. He was beginning to realise that what he felt for the Englishman could not be brushed off as the effects of an alien nuero-toxin, and he despaired of their friendship being able to survive it.

“Trip? Trip, what’s wrong?” The gentle tone of the softly accented voice held a note of worry, and the tears in Trip’s eyes spilled over in response.

“A-Ah’m sorry. Ah’m so sorry, Malcolm.”

“Sorry? Whatever for?”

“Fer messin’ up our friendship.”

“Messing up...?” Malcolm vacated the chair he was in, moving to kneel in front of Trip, trying to make eye-contact with the downcast man. “How on Earth does the both of us being a bit ... oversexed because of a stray nuero-toxin translate into you ruining our friendship?”

“’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“Ah ... you’re gonna hate me for this ... Ah think Ah love you, Malcolm.”

Trip waited for the sharp inhalation of breath, the startled move away, the horrified exit from the room, but none of them came. Instead, there was a warm chuckle, and a pair of hands coming to rest on his thighs. Startled, Trip looked up into ocean-blue eyes which sparkled at him merrily.

“Now why, my dear, would I hate you for loving me?”

“But... but Ah thought..,” Trip sputtered incoherently, tears forgotten.

“You thought what? That I would let you paw me like that just because of a hormonal imbalance? I’m not that easy, Commander. If I hadn’t wanted your attentions, believe me, you would have known it. Besides,” Malcolm cocked his head and gave Trip a lascivious smirk, “I seem to recall doing a fair share of pawing, myself. Nevermind the fact that I seem to have strained a few muscles trying to get at you in Sickbay.

“No, no... rest assured that you may love me all you like. I shall never object.”

With a happy exclamation, Trip wrapped his arms around Malcolm, pulling him in for a kiss. He released the smaller man immediately when he reacted with a cry of pain and a stiffening of his body.

“Malcolm?! Did Ah hurt you?”

“No, it’s just my back is a little sore, that’s all.”

“A little sore? Sure seemed more painful than that.” He turned Malcolm around and lifted up the back of his shirt, gasping when he saw the large, mottled bruise covering his lover’s back. “Shit, Mal, that looks terrible! You should see the doc.”

“I already have. He gave me some painkillers, but they put me to sleep -- that’s why I wasn’t here earlier -- and I’m sick of sleeping.”

Trip carefully settled the shirt back into place and began nuzzling the side of Malcolm’s neck, working his way up from the shoulder to just under his ear. “Wouldja be willin’ to go back to y’r quarters an’ take some a’ them painkillers if Ah were ta go wi’ ya, an’ stay wi’ ya?”

He traced the edge of Malcolm’s ear with his tongue, and the other man shivered, replying, “That sounds... oh... like a plan of action that I would be amenable to.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do.” Trip stood, pulling Malcolm up with him and planting another kiss on those lovely pink lips. “C’mon, darlin’. Let’s go relieve y’r pain.”

As the two men left Trip’s quarters, hand-in-hand, the engineer felt a surge of contentment. Life had never seemed so pleasant before, and he planned on enjoying every minute of it. Especially, he thought as Malcolm cast a seductive glance at him, these next few.

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