Title: The Decon Chatfic

Author: Joules Mer

Author's e-mail: julia_ocean_child@yahoo.co.uk

Author's URL: http://jmenterprise.popullus.net

Date: Posted to EntSTSlash June 11, 2004

Archive: Everyone else ask first.

Fandom: Star Trek Enterprise

Category: Slash

Rating: PG

Pairing: Tu/R

Summary: Decon gets a little out of hand.

Series:  None

Beta: None


Disclaimer: Enterprise is the property of Paramount.  No profit has been, or will be, made by this story.  

A/N: This one's for the eurochat folks, most of the ideas in it are theirs.  I *think* I got all the elements people came up with.

    The decon door slid shut with an air of finality that made Trip cringe.  Malcolm was already unzipping his uniform, as Trip watched he pulled it down to his waist and started on the buttons of his black undershirt.  The sight caused Trip's mouth to go completely dry and he froze just inside the door.  Malcolm was oblivious as he pulled off his undershirts and dropped them in the appropriate receptacle.  His outer uniform followed soon after, and it was only when he went to collect the decon gel that he noticed his immobile friend.  Malcolm regarded the other man with mild amusement.  "Trip?"  Nothing.  "Earth to Commander Tucker, we found your brain."

    "Huh?  What?"  The way Trip's head snapped around it was a wonder he didn't get whiplash.

    Malcolm smirked and shook his head.  "You were light years away for a moment there, Trip.  It's a wonder you don't get into more trouble on away missions, spacing out like that."

    Blushing furiously, and cursing himself for doing so, Trip turned away from his friend and stripped as efficiently as he could.  When he turned back with an armful of clothing he was confronted by the sight of Malcolm's ass in the air as the other man bent down to spread gel on his lower legs.  Trip gulped convulsively and held his clothing in front of him like a shield as he edged around his friend.  As soon as he was close enough he threw his soiled clothes into the bin and grabbed a container of gel before retreating to the far side of the bench.  Catching Malcolm rubbing gel over his chest out of the corner of his eye, Trip turned to face the wall and counted to ten slowly.  Whoever said decon was relaxing had never been in there with Malcolm Reed before.

    Trip focused on engineering reports as he spread the gel over himself, but it meant that when a hand descended on his shoulder he gave an undignified yelp.  He whirled around to find Malcolm regarding him with a raised eyebrow.  "Can you get my back?"  Without waiting for a reply Malcolm thrust a container of gel into Trip's hands and turned around.  Trip's hand was shaking as he scooped a bit of cold gel onto his fingers and began to spread it over the expanse of his friend's back, trying desperately to think thoughts that Malcolm wouldn't kill him for considering.  Calculus, he thought desperately, think of calculus.  What is the triple integral of... "Um, Trip?"


    "I think I'm done."

    Trip looked down at the patch of skin he'd been spreading gel over for the last minute and pulled his hand back as if he'd been burned.  "Oh, ah, sorry."

    Malcolm turned around and scrutinized him with a concerned gaze.  "Are you okay?  You've been acting a bit off since we got back.  Maybe we should have Phlox put us through a double cycle."

    "No!"  Trip lunged forward and caught Malcolm's arm just before his hand got to the comm panel."  Malcolm raised an eyebrow and Trip squirmed.  "I'm fine.  Really.  I was just, um, thinking about the power system they used.  It was pretty fascinating."

    Malcolm wasn't convinced.  "You're sure?"

    "I'm sure, Malcolm."  Trip handed Malcolm some gel and turned around.  "How about you get my back."

    Malcolm dubiously turned away from the comm panel and covered his friend's back in the slick substance.  When Trip was sufficiently covered Malcolm edged over to the side of the bench furthest from his friend, best to be as far away as possible in case Trip's strange behaviour was catching.  Trip settled down on the bench and closed his eyes as he tried to think of anything but where was and who he was with.

    Just when Trip had managed to lull himself into a false sense of security a small noise caught his attention.  He kept his eyes firmly shut and told himself he *didn't* want to look.  It repeated, and then there was a series of what sounded like slow deep breaths.  Trip carefully cracked one eye open part way, only to have both fly open when he saw the man in front of him.

    Malcolm was on his back with his shoulders on the floor.  One foot was planted on the floor while the other was sticking straight up in the air, and his hips and back were up off the floor.  His upper arms were flat on the floor, but his forearms were straight up as he held his hips aloft with his hands.  Trip was frozen in place as he started to pant.

    Malcolm opened his eyes and regarded the ceiling for a second before slowly lowering his raised leg.  Once both feet were planted he lowered his hips so that he was lying on the deck plating.  Trip just did his best to keep from having a heart attack.

    Noticing his friend's gaze, Malcolm frowned.  "What?  It helps me focus and get rid of stress."  He gave Trip a pointed look.  "Which you seem to need to do."  Trip couldn't quite form a coherent sentence, which was fine as Malcolm carried on, "Get down here, I'll show you some basic positions."

    Trip was going to say no.  He could even swear that "no" was what he thought in his head, but for some reason "okay" popped out instead.  Malcolm gave him a rare smile at that, and Trip couldn't bring himself to back out.  He carefully moved so he was sitting on the floor next to Malcolm and made sure to look his friend in the eyes.  I was probably the part of Malcolm's body with the least potential to create embarrassment.  "Now what?"

    "Sit cross legged."  Malcolm drew his own legs up. "Put your hands like this."  He showed Trip how he had his thumb touching his index finger.  "Then close your eyes and take a series of slow, deep breaths."

    Trip folded his legs like he used to sit in elementary school, and then realized that Malcolm wasn't technically sitting cross legged.  "Uh, Malcolm.  Should I sit cross legged, or the way you are?"

    Malcolm opened his eyes again.  "You should just sit normally.  I'm in the lotus position, but I doubt your ligaments could take it."

    "Oh, okay."  Trip closed his eyes and tried to blank out everything around him.  Working as hard as he could to concentrate on his breathing instead of Malcolm.

    After a reasonable amount of time had passed Malcolm opened his eyes and turned to his friend.  "How was that?"

    "It was..."  Trip struggled for words and said, "It was great.  I feel kinda funny though."  At Malcolm look he hastened to explain, "Not in a bad way or anything.  I feel good."  He grinned.  "I feel really good."

    It was then that Malcolm realized he felt pretty good himself.  Pretty bloody good, in fact.  Even better than yoga usually left him feeling.  He shrugged it off and lay on his stomach.  "Lie on your stomach with your feet together, and then raise your upper body like this as high as it will go."  Malcolm demonstrated and then hastened to add, "Be sure to keep your rear tight."

    That innocently uttered phrase was Trip's undoing, because his eyes immediately flew to Malcolm's tightened gluteus maximus.  When he focused on Malcolm's ass, resplendent in nothing but a very tight pair of skivvies, he thought he could actually feel the sudden surge of blood southwards.  It did nothing to curb the growing dizziness that he was experiencing.  Trip gulped and tore his eyes away as he clumsily mimicked the his friend's posture.

    "Now I'm going to do Downward Facing Dog, if it's a bit much for you feel free to stop."  Malcolm got to his knees and waited until Trip did the same.  "Now put your arms like this, with your hands flat on the floor.  Good.  Now sort of stand up, you want your heels touching if you can.  That's it."

    Straining with the effort of staying in the unfamiliar position, Trip didn't realize he was tipping sideways until it was too late.  He crashed into Malcolm, sending them both into an undignified sprawl on the floor.  "Oh, shit!"  Trip tried to get up, but his hands had somehow gotten gel on them and he slipped again on the floor.  On his third try he managed to get off of his friend and half fell, half sat, back onto the floor.  Was it his imagination, or was the floor not as steady as it usually was.  "Are you okay, Malcolm?"

    Malcolm managed to attain a sitting position on his second try, but he did use the bench for balance.  "Good grief, Trip.  Maybe I should've had you do the corpse instead."

    "What's that?"

    "This."  Malcolm reached out and pushed his friend firmly in the centre of his chest.  Unbalanced, Trip fell backwards to land supine on the floor.  For a reason he couldn't entirely fathom Malcolm found this inordinately funny.  Guffaws wracked his frame, only getting louder when Trip had to resort to pulling himself upright using the bench.

    Trip scowled.  "Not funny, Loo-tenant."  He knew it bugged Malcolm when he drew out words like that.  Malcolm merely made a rude gesture and kept on laughing.  Trip's scowl slowly evaporated and he began to giggle along with Malcolm's chortles.  He very deliberately reached out and poked Malcolm in the middle of his forehead, causing the man to theatrically flop backwards.  Once Malcolm managed to right himself he reached out and returned the favour.  As Trip dutifully flopped backwards they both were overcome with gales of laughter.  Trip wriggled around on the floor and spoke through his laughter, "Whaddya think of my corpse?"

    Malcolm snorted.  "I'd think more of it if you stopped moving."

    "But where's the fun in that?"  Trip pouted.

    "It's not supposed to be *fun*, it's supposed to be *relaxing*."  Malcolm shook his head and said,"You have entirely too little patience, Trip."

    "Oh yeah!"  Trip was the picture of wounded pride.  "It was pretty damn patient of me to keep from jumping you when you were all contorted like that."  Even with his brain in it's oddly fuzzy state, Trip was pretty sure he shouldn't have said that.

    Malcolm just snickered.  "Y'know you looked pretty funny.  Trying to hide it and all.  You went beet red when you first saw me!"

    "What?"  Trip's mouth dropped open and Malcolm only laughed harder.  Trip's mouth flapped uselessly for a moment before he got out, "You knew?"

    "Of course!"  Malcolm gave a look that was quite close to a leer.  "Tactical officers see everything."

    "You... You mean you...  You know that..."

    "You're bloody transparent, Trip.  I've known how you felt for ages."

    "And you set me up?"  Trip focused on the one thing he could get through his brain as he roared at his so-called friend.

    "No, I do yoga all the time on cold metal floors."

    "Rat bastard!"  Trip leapt forward unsteadily and Malcolm's grin vanished as he was smothered under the other man.

    All at once the shutter slid off of the window into the corridor and a pair of bright blue eyes peered into the small room.  Phlox smiled, obviously the topical intoxicant he'd put in the gel had done its job well.  A yelp followed by a snorting giggle caused the doctor's eyes to widen.  There was another yelp, but this time it was followed by what was unmistakably a gasp and a moan.  Phlox hastily slid the cover over the window as approaching footsteps sounded on the deck plating.  He furtively picked up the padd and began to noisily check over data.  An indistinct noise filtered out of the room and the passing ensign gave the doctor a sideways glance.  Phlox frowned, perhaps it was working a little too well.  The wall of the decontamination chamber shuddered slightly as something heavy slammed into it and a faint cry was heard that sounded like "yes!"  Too well indeed.