Title: The Decon Chatfic
Author: Joules Mer
Author's e-mail: firstname.lastname@example.org
Author's URL: http://jmenterprise.popullus.net
Date: Posted to EntSTSlash June 11, 2004
Archive: Everyone else ask first.
Fandom: Star Trek Enterprise
Summary: Decon gets a little
out of hand.
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
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.
"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,
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."
"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
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
"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.