Title: Drunken Sailor
By: nancy
Pairing: Tucker/Reed
Fandom: Star Trek Enterprise
Rating: PG-13
Summary: What to do with a drunken Malcolm?

***

Trip hadn't realized just how drunk Malcolm was until the other man goosed him.

Throughout the night, Malcolm had been more touchy-feely than was his wont, but Trip had passed it off as a natural reaction to another near-death experience for both of them. And really, it was kind of nice, always having Malcolm's hand somewhere on him, either on his arm, the small of his back, or even leaning against him in brief intervals.

But then, later that night at the diplomatic party, standing with T'Pol and Phlox, Trip just about jumped a mile high when Malcolm's hand reached back and squeezed right between his ass. He jerked out of reach of Malcolm, glaring, and snapped, "What the hell is wrong with you!?"

Malcolm smiled a bit blearily and replied, "Nothing Commander, wrong. Why would you say that honey?"

T'Pol and Phlox were discreetly talking among themselves, withdrawing a little, but Trip flushed with embarrassment anyhow. It was one thing for a relationship to be an open-secret, and another for one of the partners to goose the other and then call him 'honey.' Trip's eyes latched onto the glass in Malcolm's hand and accused, "You're drunk!"

"I am so!" Malcolm exclaimed indignantly. "Alcohol doesn't affect me."

Heaving a sigh, Trip muttered, "Yeah, right."

"Everything okay, Commander?"

Trip's internal alarms went off as Jon and the Hilerian Ambassador stopped on their way passed. Forcing a smile, Trip nodded. "Everything's fine, Cap'n. Lt. Reed and I were just leaving."

"So early?" Jon questioned with a slight frown.

Malcolm frowned as well and replied, "No we weren't."

"Yes, we were," Trip stated firmly. He met Jon's eyes and begged the other man silently not to stop them.

Jon's frown shifted to amusement as he agreed, "Carry on then."

Taking Malcolm's arm, Trip guided his lover towards the exit, praying that nothing else happened. Thankfully, they made it outside before Malcolm tossed an arm around Trip's waist and held tight enough to make breathing difficult.

"Malcolm, just a little looser buddy," Trip gasped, peeling the hand from his ribcage. He forgot, sometimes, just how strong the other man was.

"You're no fun, Trip," Malcolm sighed. "Too uptight, did you know that?"

Oh great. I forgot he's a chatty drunk, Trip thought, groaning silently. Aloud, he said, "I know. Absolutely no fun whatsoever. We'll fix that later, Malcolm."

A wicked grin appeared on Malcolm's face and he started singing, very loudly and off-key, "What do we do with a drunken sailor, ear-lie in the morning? Put him in the hold with the ship's engineer, Put him in the hold with the ship's engineer, put him in..."

Horrified, Trip's hand shot out, covering Malcolm's mouth and smothering the rest of whatever lyrics the other man might be thinking up. He did, after all, have a very filthy mind when it came to some of those old folk songs. He pushed him into the nearest alcove and hissed, "Would you please just save it 'til we get back to quarters!?"

Malcolm bit Trip's hand hard enough to sting and Trip pulled it away, glaring. With a smirk and a wriggle against Trip, Malcolm replied, "All you had to do was say you didn't want to stick around the party, Trip."

Mouth dropping open, Trip just gaped at his lover a few seconds. Then he grabbed Malcolm's arm and dragged him down the hall. The next few minutes were blessedly quiet, and free of witnesses as they waited for the lift to get there. Then a hand reappeared on his ass, rubbing and squeezing, slowly and Trip groaned at the sensation.

When they got on the lift and the doors closed, Trip suddenly found himself with more than an armful of an amorous tactical officer. Malcolm pushed him against the wall and attacked his mouth. Even drunk, the other man was a top-notch kisser and it was a few minutes before Trip could catch his breath enough to think, This is a bad idea!

Even so, it wasn't until there was a loud throat-clearing that he was able to detach himself from Malcolm, who had taken on the resemblance of a Jima Limpet, complete with six extra pairs of hands. Dragging himself away from his lover, panting and disheveled, Trip turned to find Rostov grinning a mile wide on the other side of the lift doors, patiently holding them open.

"I think this is your floor, Commander?" the dark-haired young man offered, still grinning.

Trip was completely flustered, and utterly ticked at the smug, suspiciously sober, look on Malcolm's face. He managed to nod with something akin to composure and stepped off the lift. At that point, he didn't really care if Malcolm followed or not.

From behind, Malcolm said, "Thanks, Rostov."

Rostov answered cheerfully, "Anytime, Sir."

Malcolm caught up to him in short order and asked, "How aggravated are you?"

"Aggravated? Oh no. I passed aggravated when you goosed me in front of Phlox and T'Pol!" Trip snarled, putting on some speed.

"Ah, well, about that..."

"Don't even talk to me right now, Malcolm."

"Trip, I was just..."

"I mean it! Not one word!"

Malcolm sighed, but stayed silent until they reached their quarters.

Once the doors slid shut behind them, Trip completely lost it. He started howling with laughter and staggered to the bed on the other side of the room. Collapsing on it, it was a few minutes before Trip got himself under control long enough to point a finger at Malcolm and accused, "You're evil! All day and I didn't even notice!"

Grinning now, Malcolm asked, "Is it safe for me to say it?"

Leaning up on his elbows, Trip nodded.

"April Fool's," Malcolm announced.

Trip sat up and said, "This year definitely belongs to you. I've got to admit that I completely lost track of what the date was. Serves me right."

Chuckling, Malcolm moved towards the bed with an understanding, "Well, it has been rather shit!"

With a broad grin, Trip waved to Malcolm, who was now careening wildly in the air, arms and legs flailing to get purchase where there was none. Getting to his feet, Trip wagged a finger at Malcolm and asked, "You didn't really think that I'd forget, did you? After you doused me purple last year? Not a chance!"

Glaring from his upside-down position, Malcolm demanded, "Get me down this instant, Trip!"

"Just a second, I need something to mark the occasion."

"No, don't you dare, Trip!"

"Oh yes, Malcolm. Say cheese!"

"You bloody son of a...!"

***