Spoilers: none
N.B.: Porthos’ POV. For Shanna, who wanted a Porthos fic.
Uncle Trip is over talking to Daddy. I’m not sure what about anymore; I lost track of the conversation when Uncle Trip started scratching my ears. Right now, I’m dozing in his lap, enjoying the warmth of his body and the rise and fall of his and Daddy’s voices.
I pick up a faint scent on him and wonder if Daddy knows that Uncle Trip and Malcolm are mates. I don’t think so. He would have told me.
I started to suspect a couple of weeks ago, when Daddy called Malcolm over to talk about the ship’s weapon systems. As soon as he walked in, I knew he’d just been with Uncle Trip. He smelled of him. I didn’t immediately conclude that they were mating. Uncle Trip and Malcolm work together a lot, often in tight spaces. That could have easily been the cause for Uncle Trip’s scent on Malcolm.
After that, every time one of them was over it seemed that he smelled of the other. My suspicions were confirmed three days ago. Daddy had a sudden thought about making the weapon systems redundant and, since it wasn’t too late, called Malcolm to come talk to him about it.
It took Malcolm longer to arrive than it usually does. When I greeted him he smelled mostly of soap, but over that, in a thin layer, were the smells of Uncle Trip and sex. He must have showered and dried his hair before coming over. I wouldn’t have known if he’d just left it at that, but he’d obviously embraced Uncle Trip before leaving. Uncle Trip had, just as obviously, not showered and still carried the scent of their prior activities.
Before, Malcolm always seemed kinda sad. Like a puppy who isn’t given enough attention. It’s a feeling I can empathise with, but in my case Daddy always makes up for it when things settle down and he has “time to breathe again,” as he puts it. Nobody was doing that for Malcolm though. Not until Uncle Trip.
“Hello, Porthos.” Malcolm scratches behind my ears, and I wag my tail and lick at his face. He smiles, I think he likes the attention, so I lick him a few more times.
“Take a seat, Malcolm,” Daddy says, waving a hand at the sofa Uncle Trip is still sitting on. Malcolm obediently walks over and sits next to Uncle Trip. I jump up into the spot between them so they can both pet me. And so that they have an excuse to touch.
Uncle Trip, Daddy, and I barely manage to keep our seats. Malcolm, who was turning to the door at the time, crashes into Daddy’s bookcase. The ship stills as suddenly as it revolted, and Daddy’s calling to the bridge for a report while Uncle Trip and I run to check on Malcolm. He’s unconscious, so I lick at his face, paying special attention to the bleeding scrape on his temple.
“Malcolm! Malcolm, can you hear me? Damn it, darlin’, don’t do this to me!”
All the shouting gets me all excited, and I start to howl. I know it isn’t very helpful, or any kind of a good idea, but I can’t help myself. I am a beagle after all.
“Porthos, shut up!” That’s Daddy.
“Oh Gawd, Malcolm!! Wake up!”
“Bridge here, Captain.” That sounds like T’Pol. She doesn’t like me much, but she likes Daddy, so we tolerate each other.
“What the hell is happening to my ship?”
“Engineering reports a ... ‘hiccup’ in the inertial dampening system. We have dropped out of warp until the problem is resolved.”
“Good, keep me posted. Archer out.”
“Malcolm...” Uncle Trip is practically sobbing now, he’s so hysterical. I don’t know if I should keep trying to wake Malcolm, or try to comfort Uncle Trip. The question is moot in another moment, however, as Malcolm shifts and groans.
“Damn it, Trip, will you stop shouting in my ear?”
Uncle Trip sorta half-sobs and pulls Malcolm to him, rocking back and forth, kissing his face. I get excited again and jump up on them, licking Malcolm. Well, licking both of them really, but mostly Malcolm. Malcolm takes it all for a bit before he starts protesting.
“Aackk! I’m being smothered by an engineer and a beagle, would somebody please help me?”
“Porthos! Come here!” I run over to Daddy, and he picks me up, still wiggling in excitement. He has an odd expression on his face as he sits and watches Uncle Trip with Malcolm. He definitely didn’t know. Didn’t even suspect.
“Sorry, darlin’.” Uncle Trip shifts so he can lean back against the bookcase, Malcolm still in his arms. “That better?”
Malcolm closes his eyes, resting his bleeding forehead on Uncle Trip’s shoulder. “Much, thank you.”
“Sickbay, Phlox here.”
“If you don’t have any more pressing matters on hand, Doctor, would you please report to my quarters? Mister Reed struck his head when we were shaken about a moment ago.”
“Certainly, Captain. I’m on my way. Phlox out.”
Uncle Trip looks at Malcolm, who just burrows his face in the crook of Uncle Trip’s neck and mumbles, “You tell him, dear, I can’t think right now.”
“A few weeks.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Daddy sounds hurt.
“I don’t know. We were afraid to, I guess.”
“Afraid? Why?”
“Regulations,” Malcolm says groggily. Now that everyone has calmed down, he’s fading again. I hope he wasn’t hurt bad, but Phlox is coming and he will take care of Malcolm, so I don’t worry too much.
“They don’t affect you. Now that T’Pol’s taken over as First Officer, Trip’s not your supervisor anymore. The regs don’t apply. As long as you weren’t forced into the relationship, Starfleet doesn’t care.”
“Oh.”
The door chimes, and Daddy tells the person to come in. Phlox steps through the door, going directly to Malcolm and kneeling down to look at him.
“Could you please sit up, Mister Reed? It would make this a great deal easier. Good, thank you, Mister Tucker. Now, Lieutenant, please keep your eyes on my finger.” Phlox waves his finger in front of Malcolm’s face a couple of times and then scans him. “Uh-huh. Just as I thought. You have a concussion, Lieutenant. A rather nasty one, at that. I’m going to give you an injection and then I want you to go to your quarters and rest for the remainder of the day. Tomorrow morning come to Sickbay, and I’ll decide whether or not I’m going to clear you for duty.”
“Whatever you say, Doctor.”
“Hmmm...” Phlox looks dubious as he gives Malcolm his shot. “Knowing how you feel about bed rest, I rather doubt my advice will be heeded once you begin to feel better. Commander, would you be so kind as to stay with Mister Reed and make sure that he rests?”
“Well ... I don’t know.” Uncle Trip looks at Daddy. I think he’s asking for permission.
“Go ahead, Trip. Engineering obviously thinks they’ve got matters in hand without you; they haven’t called for your assistance yet.”
“Thanks, Cap’n. Okay, Doc, I’ll do it.”
“Excellent. If he thinks he can keep it down, I’d like you to have him eat something this evening. If food makes him nauseated, just give him water. It’s important that he remain hydrated.”
“Sure thing, Doc. Malcolm’s in good hands.”
“Very good hands,” Malcolm says with a little grin. “He’s got a talented tongue, too, but you probably won’t want to hear about that.”
“Excuse me?” says Phlox.
“Malcolm Reed!” Uncle Trip is turning bright red, and Daddy seems to be trying not to laugh. “That bump on your head has addled your brains. That information is to be released on a need to know basis, and they,” he points at Phlox and Daddy, “definitely did not need to know.”
“You’re beautiful when you’re embarrassed, you know that? I like seeing you flustered.”
“I’m takin’ you home before you say somethin’ you’ll really regret come mornin’.”
“Any place you are is home, love. Love. Love. Love you.” Malcolm burrows against Uncle Trip again, sighing softly, eyes falling shut.
“Is he allowed to sleep now, Doc?”
“Oh, yes. Sleep is actually the best thing for him right now. He’ll be much more lucid after a nap.”
Daddy looks kinda concerned so I give his face a lick, and he smiles at me.
“Well, Porthos, looks like it’s just you and me again.” He frowns. “I wish Trip had told me about Malcolm. We’ve been friends for a long time. It hurts to think he didn’t feel comfortable sharing such an important part of his life with me. They obviously care a great deal about one another.” I yip in agreement, and Daddy smiles again. I like it when I can make Daddy smile.
“I suppose Malcolm is going to burst a blood vessel from sheer embarrassment in the morning when he recalls the way he babbled in here. He’s usually so quiet. I would never have guessed that there was such a talkative man under that reserved facade.” Daddy chuckles, happy again.
“Oh well, I’d best be getting to the bridge. Trip’s taking care of Malcolm, and I need to take care of my ship. Be a good boy while Daddy’s gone, Porthos.”
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Rating: PG-13
This fic first appeared in the fanzine Gettin’ From There to Here, and was written during the first season. It's old. ~RB
I’m happy for them. I may just be a dog, and one who doesn’t get out much, but I can tell that Uncle Trip is happier and more relaxed now. Daddy has even mentioned that Malcolm seems more relaxed too, though he doesn’t really know why. He just thinks it’s because he’s starting to make friends and fit in with the crew. That’s true to a certain extent, of course, but it’s really Uncle Trip who’s done it.
The door chimes, and I hear Daddy call for the new visitor to come in. It’s Malcolm. I can hear Uncle Trip’s heartrate pick up, and his scent gets stronger at the sight of his mate. I jump down and trot over to greet Malcolm. I suspect Uncle Trip would like to do the same, but he stays in his spot on the sofa.
For the next fifteen minutes, the three of them talk, and I doze again. Uncle Trip and Malcolm take the opportunity I’ve offered them, and I can feel their fingers brush against one another in slow, lingering touches as they pet me. Daddy says something that I don’t quite hear, and Malcolm responds by getting to his feet. I look up questioningly, and that’s when it happens: the whole ship jerks.
“Archer to bridge! What the hell is going on?”
“Would you please stop that infernal rocking, Trip?” Malcolm half asks, half demands. “It’s making me woozy, and if you don’t quit I shall be sick.”
“Archer to Sickbay.”
Daddy stares at the other two men for a bit before he clears his throat and says, “If you don’t mind my asking, gentlemen, how long has this been going on?”
“Malcolm?” That was Uncle Trip again. Boy is he attentive. “Mal, stay awake. I’m sure you’ve got a concussion. You can’t sleep.”
Uncle Trip manages to get to his feet, Malcolm still leaning on him. He scoops Malcolm up into his arms -- I never realised Uncle Trip was so strong -- and walks out the door after nodding to Daddy. Phlox leaves then too, and Daddy and I are alone.
Daddy gives me a kiss before setting me on the floor, and I walk over to my doggie bed. The door clicks shut behind him while I’m getting comfortable. After all the excitement in here this afternoon, a nice nap is definitely in order.
