Rating: PG

Beta: shakespearespot

N.B.: Sequel to The Day When Dreaming Ends. The title is from “Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend.” It didn’t occur to me until later that it might be taken in quite a different way -- especially as a title for a slash fic. Fear not -- I’d only rate this puppy at PG.
Part two of my Moulin Rouge! Series (so named because of the titles). This fic first appeared in the fanzine Gettin’ From There to Here, Issue 2. ~RB

“Malcolm honey, could you bring me something to eat? A sandwich, pasta, whatever Chef put out. A slice of pecan pie would be nice.”

“Don’t ask much, do you?” said Malcolm, looking up from the PADD he was working on. “Anyway, how can you be hungry again? I just brought you food two hours ago.”

Trip pouted at his lover. “It was three hours ago. ‘Sides,” he said, defending himself from the frown Malcolm was bestowing upon him, “a man needs a lot of sustenance when he’s healin’.” The only reply he got was a snort and Malcolm returning his attention to his work. “Pleeaase, Mal. I’m not trying to be a pest. I really am hungry. Please.”

Malcolm looked up again and was defeated by Trip’s hung-dog expression. He tossed the PADD to the desk as he rose, gathering up the tray and dishes from his last run to the mess hall. “I’ll be back.”

Trip watched the Englishman stalk out of his quarters, a rigid set to his shoulders. He couldn’t understand why his lover seemed so upset with him -- he’d just asked for something to eat. Shaking his head with a sigh, he burrowed into the covers on his bed, careful of his healing ribs, intending to nap until Malcolm returned with his food.

The nap must have lasted longer than he’d meant it to, because when he awoke Trip found a tray with a cold chicken caesar salad, lukewarm piece of pie, and a undrinkably warm glass of milk resting on his nightstand. Malcolm was nowhere to be seen.

Trip checked his clock. It was only 20.00 hours; Malcolm wasn’t on duty, and it wasn’t so late that he would have gone back to his own quarters to sleep. It occurred to him that the other man was probably miffed, coming back with the requested food, only to find him sound asleep. He crawled out of bed, mindful of his ribs, and walked over to the comm unit on his desk.

“Tucker to Reed.” He paused a moment, waiting for a reply. “Hey, Malcolm, you there?”

“So you’re finally awake,” Malcolm responded, his disembodied British voice sounding harsher and more clipped than usual. “What do you want now?”

Trip was taken aback. “W-well, you, at the moment.”

“Me?” The voice held a note of what Trip thought might be sarcasm. “And what will you want once you have me? A PADD from Engineering? A freshly made bed? A bouquet of flowers, perhaps?” Sarcasm, it was definitely sarcasm. Mean, biting sarcasm. Malcolm was obviously upset, and Trip was guessing it had something to do with the errands he’d been asking the other man to run.

“Actually, I was thinkin’ I might talk to you, if that’s alright.” There was a silence through which Trip could have sworn he heard Malcolm grinding his teeth together, and he added, “I’ve obviously done something to offend you, but I can’t put it right if’n I don’t know what it is. Come talk to me, Mal. Whatever it is, I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“Fine. I’ll be over in a minute.” The comm line went dead, and Trip lowered himself into the desk chair to await his lover’s arrival.

Five minutes later, when Malcolm walked through his door, Trip knew for certain that he was in trouble. The oh-so-pink lips he loved to kiss were thinned into a sharp line, pressed together the way Malcolm always did when he was irritated. The blue eyes still reminded him of the stormy Atlantic, but there was more than a hint of the coldness of a winter storm to them now. Malcolm stopped just inside the door, settling into a parade rest stance, and waited for Trip to speak.

Trip just stared at the man, who refused to meet his gaze, before giving in and speaking. “What’s goin’ on, Mal? Why’re you so outta sorts all of a sudden?”

Cold blue eyes regarded him, upper lip curling slightly. “Do you really not know?”

“I kinda got an idea it might have somethin’ t’ do wi’ the requests I’ve been makin’ today, but not really, no.”

“Just today?”

“Whaddya mean?”

“Trip, I have been coming here after my shift every day for over a week now and waiting on you hand and foot. Today was my day off, and what did I do? I sat over here, at your beck and call, and worked on schematics for the new phase rifle in between running errands. You accept my kisses like they’re your due... I feel more like your servant than your lover, Trip!”

Trip was flabbergasted. This whole time he’d simply been basking in the attention and enjoying his status as pampered invalid. He’d really had no idea that his actions were making Malcolm feel so unloved.

“Oh, Mal honey, I’m sorry. With my ribs an’ all I’ve been a bit wary of gettin’ too enthusiastic, you know. An’, I guess if I’m bein’ honest, I have to admit that I’ve gotten carried away with being the pampered centre of attention. It was j’st so nice. I guess I was j’st takin’ advantage of it while it lasted.”

“I don’t expect that you should be making love to me yet -- it’s been what, two weeks since you were kidnapped by the Kayeklopes; I’ve had a few broken ribs of my own, so I know how long it takes them to heal -- but a little ... affection would not be untoward now and again. At the moment, I find myself wondering if it’s really me you want, or if any warm, subservient body would fill your needs.”

“A servant might be able to fill my needs, Mal, but only you c’n fill my heart.” Trip tried to put all of the love he held for this man into his words and expression. He must have been at least partially successful, because Malcolm’s features softened a bit as he held his gaze. “Now, how about you let me start making it up to you right now? Assumin’ you don’t have other plans, that is.”

“No, I don’t have any plans for the evening,” said Malcolm. “What did you have in mind?”

“Well, I was kinda thinkin’ a night of cuddlin’ sounded like j’st what the doctor ordered. J’st spoon up together an’ snuggle, you know? First, though, I’d really like t’ take a shower -- I feel positively grimy from lyin’ in bed all day.”

“If you expect me to change your bed for you while you shower, forget it.”

“Naw, I was thinkin’ more like you maybe wantin’ t’ join me in the shower -- I’ll scrub your back if you scrub mine -- and then us doin’ the bed together afterwards. I’m sentimental that way; I like the idea of us makin’ the bed together an’ sleepin’ in it together.”

“Hmm, well, put that way, it hardly seems the sort of offer that I can, in good conscience, refuse. One thing, though, Trip: I thought you were trying to keep yourself from getting too enthusiastic in our encounters. Do you really think that a joint shower is a good idea?”

“Sure, why not? I mean, how wild can things get in a shower stall?” Trip watched Malcolm’s lips quirk in a grin, mischief dancing in his blue eyes, and realised that, whatever the answer to the question was, he was going to thoroughly enjoy finding out.