Title: Santa Baby

Author: Joules Mer

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

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

Date: Posted to EntSTSlash 12/25/2003

Archive: Permission to archive granted to EntSTCommunity and BLTS.  All others ask me.

Fandom: Star Trek Enterprise

Category: Slash

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: T/R

Summary:   Malcolm gets into the Christmas spirit.

Series:  Spirit of the Season (sequel to Tricks and Treats)

Beta: None

Spoilers: none

Disclaimer: Enterprise is the property of Paramount.  No profit was made, no copyright infringement is intended.

A/N: This is for Red, who wanted me to write something T/R.  I was given the lines: "Ho, ho, ho, mah ass," and "Promise, love?"

Santa Baby

    It was velvet.  Red velvet to be precise.  Complete with an overly flamboyant synthetic fur trim, a pompom, and a bell.  He lowered it slowly and was confronted by a sparkling pair of blue eyes.  "You've got to be kidding."
    Trip's grin widened as he held up two small bundles of bells and shook them gently, "These clip on to your boots."

    Malcolm deftly snatched them away from his lover and scrutinized them carefully before glaring at the man in front of him.  "There is no way I'm going to do this."

    Trip bit back a laugh at his lover's expression, "You won the draw fair and square, Mal.  Cap'n will make it an order."

    Malcolm was about to say that no captain would make it an order when he remembered that Jonathan Archer was the type of man who took his dog on away missions to alien planets.  Not only that, he'd organized a draw to see which member of his senior staff would be forced to parade around all day in costume distributing candy canes to the crew.  "This is ridiculous!  What if there's a tactical alert or a first contact?"

    "Then you either take them off or we explain that it's a special day where our tactical officer dresses up.  It's no big deal, Mal, you just have to get into the spirit of it."

    Malcolm grabbed the bag containing the rest of his accoutrements from Trip and continued to glower, "I somehow doubt that will happen."

    Trip only laughed and pressed to button to open the door, "I'll see you on the bridge," he stepped into the corridor and out of range, "Santa."  Malcolm lunged, but the door slid shut before he reached it.


    The hat, a red jacket complete with fur trim, fur to trim the tops of his boots with, the little bells, a small sack bulging with candy, and, good grief, an enormous fake beard.  The distasteful items were carefully laid out on his bunk, a stark contrast with the blue blankets.

    'Get into the spirit of it.'  Easy for Trip to say, he wasn't the one forced to make a mockery of himself.  It wasn't fair that he had to do this while Trip got off scot-free.  Not fair at all.  In fact, it was so unjust that Malcolm felt he had to do something about it.  Malcolm sat thinking for a minute or two before a sly smile alighted on his features.  He stood up and pulled on his costume as quickly as possible.  Perhaps this could be some fun after all.


    The lift doors opened and Malcolm was greeted by the expectant gazes of the entire bridge crew.  "Merry Christmas, everyone."
    T'Pol merely raised an eyebrow, but the captain smiled broadly, "Merry Christmas, Malcolm."

    "How about a 'Ho, ho, ho'?"

    Malcolm gave Travis a rather weak smile before parroting the expected, "Ho, ho, ho.  Merry Christmas," with as much enthusiasm as he could muster.

    The captain and Travis' words of praise didn't quite cover a soft snort and muttered, "Ho, ho, ho, mah ass," from the engineering station.

    Malcolm sauntered over so that he was standing just behind Trip and whispered just loud enough for the other man to hear. "Promise, love?"

    Trip felt his jaw drop in shock, he was about to fire back a retort when a sharp pinch to his posterior turned his witty comeback into a surprised yelp.


    The captain was giving him a strange look from halfway across the bridge.  "Just, um, stubbed my toe." 

    "Oh."  Jon frowned at him slightly in confusion before waving a hand at the viewer.  "There's a whole lot of nothing out there, Malcolm, so we don't really need you on the bridge right now.  Perhaps you could give us our candy canes and go spread some cheer amongst the lower decks."

    "Of course, sir."  Malcolm obligingly trudged around the bridge handing out candy, purposely leaving Trip for last.  Everyone else had turned back to their work by that point so Malcolm slowly stalked over to Trip and gave him his best sultry smile as he pulled a specific candy cane from his bag, "So tell me, Trip, have you been a good boy?"

    Trip took an awkward step backwards as Malcolm invaded his personal space.  "Um, well, I guess I have."  Trip trailed off and gulped as Malcolm slid the end of the candy cane into his own mouth and sucked on it thoughtfully for a moment.

    Mischief danced in Malcolm's eyes as he stood with his back to the rest of the bridge.  Malcolm hollowed his cheeks and twirled his tongue around the treat as he slowly pulled it out and spun it around in his hand, "I think you'll find the flavour of this one most interesting, Mr. Tucker."  Trip couldn't move as Malcolm slowly slid the wet end of the candy cane into his mouth.  The second it brushed against his tongue he understood exactly what Malcolm was talking about.  It was the exact flavour of their cinnamon lube.

    Trip's eyes slid shut and he moaned as Malcolm gently thrust the candy cane in and out of his mouth slowly a few times.  He was completely unprepared when Malcolm abruptly stepped back, called out a last "Merry Christmas," and bounded over to the lift leaving Trip hot, bothered, and in full view of everyone on the bridge.  The candy cane fell out of his slack mouth and broke in two on the deck plating.


    "So what do you think of 'Santa'?"  Travis' face was the picture of innocence even as Hoshi just about inhaled her pasta at his question.  "Certainly brings new meaning to 'he sees you when you're sleeping, he knows when you're awake, he knows if you've been bad or good' doesn't it?  Not much gets by Malcolm, and he is authorized to use all the security cameras at will."

    "I try not to think about that."  Trip's face was red as he muttered into his soup. 

    "Why's that?  Been a bad boy?"  The comment hadn't escaped Hoshi.

    Trip shuddered theatrically, "I don't dare."  Joining in as the laughter began anew.

    "Hey look, there he is.  Malcolm!  Over here!"  Malcolm nodded at Travis before heading to the food dispensers.  "Shove over, Trip."

    Hoshi grabbed a chair from the next table and slid it between Trip and herself.  Malcolm walked over and carefully deposited his bag on the deck before setting his tray on the table and practically falling into his seat.  "You won't believe the morning I've had."

    Hoshi giggled, "Oh you poor man, it must be tough having to be one of the most loveable characters from Earth mythology."

    Malcolm rolled his eyes, "You have no idea.  First, I jingle every time I move.  Second, this beard itches.  Third, the crew seems determined to hug me when I give them their candy canes.  I think I have bruised ribs.  Fourth, oh and fourth.  Have you seen stellar cartography?"  When Trip, Travis, and Hoshi all shook their heads he practically wailed, "They have antlers!  They made them themselves!  Not only that they made me pose for a picture with them and they're going to submit it to the inter-planetary journal of stellar cartography for its inaugural issue in January!  Bloody scientists."  Malcolm glared at his helplessly giggling companions as he deposited his beard on the table and began to eat his lunch.


    Trip sat back as he listened to Travis and Hoshi's banter.  He wasn't due back in engineering for half an hour and it was nice to just sit around with his friends.  He was about to say something when something brushed against his thigh.  His upper thigh.  Trip squirmed  in his seat and it went away... only to come back a second later.  Gawd, whatever it was it was getting higher.  He squirmed some more before surreptitiously bending to look under the pretence of retrieving a dropped napkin.  It was a candy cane.  A candy cane wielded by Malcolm, no less.  Trip's eyes widened and he sat bolt upright and looked around.  No one else seemed to have noticed that Malcolm was fooling around with a candy cane in the crowded mess hall.  Mind you, no one else knew Trip and Malcolm were lovers, and no one else could see as they were sitting with their backs in a corner of the room and Travis and Hoshi in front of them.  Oh gawd it was getting higher.  Trip snuck a sideways glance at Malcolm, but the man was busy chatting with Hoshi and Travis while he ate.  Trip couldn't take much more of this.  He tried to cross his legs, but only succeeded in kicking Hoshi who gave him a funny look at his stammered apology.  In retrospect, it was the same look that the captain had given him earlier.

    Twenty five minutes of merciless teasing later Trip was about ready to grab Malcolm and do something that would have them both kicked out of Starfleet for conduct unbecoming an officer.  His salvation came in the form of Travis and Hoshi announcing that they had to be getting back to the bridge.  Malcolm stood as well and carefully replaced his bead, "Walk you to engineering?  That and the armoury will be my next stops."

    Trip fixed a polite smile on his face as best as he could, "I think I'll review the intermix ratios over a cup of coffee and then head down later.  I guess I'll see you there."

    The smirk was plain on Malcolm's face, "Suit yourself."

    "See you later, sir."

    "Later, Travis, Hoshi."

    Trip willed himself to calm down as he turned to a padd he happened to have with him.  As it was it would be a little while before he could think of walking back to engineering without embarrassing himself.  Outwardly he appeared fairly calm, inwardly he was fuming.  Gawd, who would have guessed Malcolm Reed had a secret exhibitionist streak?  In retrospect Trip supposed one should always suspect the quiet ones.  Particularly when they're security officers who can avoid being caught when they want to.  Trip sighed.  Why was he always the one stuck stammering out an excuse while Saint Malcolm stood idly by?  Life just wasn't fair.



    There was a loud smack followed by a muffled, "Sonuva," from under the console.  There was more muffled cursing as Trip wriggled out from under the console.  A moment later he stood rubbing his head and squinting at Crewman Rostov, "Yeah?"

    Rostov looked slightly contrite, "Sorry, sir.  I didn't mean to startle you.  The armoury commed to say that they're sending someone down with the fused power couplings from the phase cannon assembly.  I was wondering what you wanted us to do with them when they arrived."

    Trip smiled at his subordinate to put the man at ease, "It's okay, I was a bit lost in thought, is all.  I'll take a look at them myself when they get here, Lieutenant Reed is hoping I can see why we keep frying them."

    "I'll put them on your bench when they get here."

    "Great."  Trip wriggled back under the console and tried to look busy until he heard Rostov's footfalls fully retreat.  Once he was sure he was alone he lay down his tools and groaned.  He'd made a fool out of himself again.  He'd tried to work, but couldn't stop thinking about Malcolm's little naughty Santa routine.  It somehow simultaneously turned him on and went against an entire childhood's worth of ingrained ideals.  It was kind of alarming really.  Trip shook his head as he recalled the odd look Rostov had given him when he'd finally made it out from under the console.  This day just kept getting worse and worse.

    "Ho, ho ho, Merry Christmas!"  There was another smack followed by more muffled cursing at the jolly cry that resounded through engineering.  "Have you been good engineers this year?  I have a few things for you, but not all of them are presents."  Trip wriggled out from under the console and looked around wildly.  The "someone" the armoury was sending down with the fused relays must be Malcolm, and Trip didn't want to speculate on what "Santa" had in store for him this time.  Trip did the only thing he could.  He grabbed his toolbox and fled into the nearest Jefferies tube.


    Twenty-five relays.  Trip sat back and surveyed his handiwork for a moment.  He'd replaced and aligned all but one of the worn down relays and it had only taken three hours or so.  It was well past the end of his shift, but Trip didn't care.  He didn't feel like braving the mess hall again.  He picked up his spanner and crouched in front of the last relay.  Ten minutes or so and he could make a break for his quarters.  A chirping sound caused him to withdraw his communicator from his pocket and flip it open.  It was an automatic response.  He didn't really even process what he'd done until a voice filled the confined space.

    "Ho.  Ho.  Ho."  There was a clatter as Trip's communicator fell to the deck plating.  "You've been hiding from me."  The words were strung out slowly and the tone was teasing.

    Trip stared at the offending device in shock until he stuttered out, "Malcolm?"

    "Ah, ah, ah, I believe I'm supposed to be referred to as Santa."  Malcolm was using the tone of voice that he knew caused shivers to run up Trip's spine.  Malcolm could even use his accent as a weapon.

    Trip gulped, "I dunno what's gotten into you today, Mal, but it's a bit much much."

    "Now, now, Mr. Tucker.  It was you who told me to 'get into the spirit' of this, and I must say that I've found I rather enjoy being a somewhat omniscient character.  Let's talk about this past year for instance.  I must say you've been a bit naughty at times, for instance..." 

    Trip broke into the playful admonishment, "Malcolm, this ain't funny.  You know this comm channel isn't exactly secure."

    "Ooooh, but that's some of the fun.  Don't be a Scrooge, Trip, it's unbecoming.  Now where was I?"

    "Malcolm!  I'm gonna close this channel and I don't wanna see you until you stop acting like this."

    "Is that so?"  The amusement was still plain in the tone.

    "Yeah it is."  Trip's huffiness was equally plain.

    "Are you sure?"

    "Positive.  You stop it, y'hear."

    "That's too bad because I was about to tell you something else."

    "I don't wanna hear it."

    "Not even if it's the fact that I'm in your quarters right now, on your bunk to be precise, and the only thing I'm wearing is a red velvet hat and some bells?"

    There was a moment of shocked silence followed by a tremendous crash as Trip upset his toolbox in a mad dash for the ladder to B deck.