“You May Carry Me”: The IDIC Romance for #WeWriWa #8Sunday

Welcome to Weekend Writing Warriors’ Eight Sentence Sunday!

It’s the weekly hop for everyone who loves to write! Sign up below with your name, blog and email and share an 8 to 10 sentence snippet of your writing on Sunday. Your post needs to be live between 12:00 noon on Saturday and 9:00 AM on Sunday. Visit other participants on the list and read, critique, and comment on their #8sunday posts.

It’s a second chance to share a small snippet of my current writing. Most weeks, I tie them back to my WIPpet Wednesday  post, so reading both can give a deeper peek…

This ten-sentence snippet follows immediately after last week’s WIPpet,  A Pet Name? (add link)

T’Pol has reported for duty, in the aftermath of some undisclosed personal trauma she shares with Trip, but she’s clearly not up to par, and, when the Captain orders her to eat, she is unable to hold down even a tiny sip of plomeek broth. Trip’s trying to take care of her and get her to Sickbay – but will Captain Archer, dealing with a jealousy he doesn’t want to notice, allow that?

Standard-Issue Disclaimer:

I don’t own Trip, T’Pol, or anything Star Trek. I also don’t want to make any money from them; I play with them for the sheer fun of it, and, well, because they keep putting these stories in my head…

How could I not write their stories?! I mean, just look at them – they’re adorable, and fascinating, and there’s all that lovely friction….

“You May Carry Me”

“All right. You’re both relieved of duty for the morning. Trip, get her to Phlox, and make sure she stays there until he’s got some answers.” Jon paused, expecting T’Pol to protest that she was fine and didn’t need help.

But all she did was lean into Trip. Her legs didn’t seem very steady at all, and Jon was kicking himself mentally- how could he have missed such a marked deterioration?

“It’ll take us all day to get down there, at this pace,” Trip said, gently but firmly. “Maybe we should call for a stretcher, if you won’t just let me carry you.”

“You may carry me.” T’Pol wrapped an arm around Trip’s neck as he gathered her up, and rested her head meekly on his chest, her eyes more closed than open.

Will T’Pol be all right?

Will Phlox be able to help her?

Will they make it to Sickbay without soiling Trip’s boots?

Will the Captain admit his jealousy, even to himself?

On a personal note, today is my eighteenth wedding anniversary, which is why I’m sharing from The IDIC Romance, rather than Foul Deeds Will Rise, which is not particularly romantic. FDWR will be back for next week’s WIPpet Wednesday and #8sunday posts, though, so, if you came here for Niaan and company, you’ve only got a few days left to wait.

As for Trip and T’Pol, TIR will make future appearances (thus far, there’s nearly 200K words in this project, so I’ve got LOTS to share!). I don’t know just when, right now, but they’ll be back…but for now, I’m off to make sure this is a welcoming home for my Accomplice to come home to.

Want more #8Sunday? The icon is your portal!

Follow the icon to more wonderful #Wewriwa snippets!

 

August 23, 1997. Promises Made…and honored, ever since.

A Pet Name? The IDIC Romance on WIPpet Wednesday

Welcome to WIPpet Wednesday, a weekly blog hop which encourages writers to move WIPs (works-in-progress) to publication by posting excerpts related to the date. It’s hosted by the lovely K.L. Schwengel, maven of bad boys, stock dogs, and flying monkeys! She‘s our fearless shepherd…or something like that, anyway…

OK, here’s the thing... I planned on sharing more from Foul Deeds Will Rise but then, I realized that this is my anniversary week...and, while FDWR is a perfectly fine story, it’s…well, most of it isn’t very romantic.

Fortunately, I have another story – one with “romance” right in the title….and it has a Vulcan! =D

So, guess what? (C’mon, you don’t really need to guess at what’s coming, do you?!)

Two Wednesdays back, Captain Archer ordered T’Pol to eat her plomeek broth like a good First Officer…. And then, for #8sunday, Trip uttered these momentous words: “You Missed My Boots.”

So, T’Pol’s not exactly at her best, just now. Thankfully, she’s got a protector who’s willing to take care of her – if the Captain will allow it, that is…

…Touching and Touched…Our hands, July 4, 2010, in the car.

Standard-Issue Disclaimer:

I don’t own Trip, T’Pol, or anything Star Trek. I also don’t want to make any money from them; I play with them for the sheer fun of it, and, well, because they keep putting these stories in my head…

WIPpet Math:

Today is August 19, 2015.

I‘ve got 19 sentences todayone for each year of marriage to my Accomplice, and one for luck. Or, alternatively, one for each day of the date, but that’s less fun, no?

A Pet Name?

“I’m quite capable of standing, t’hy’la.” T’Pol unfolded, and Trip helped her back onto her feet with a shrug.

“Suit yourself.” Whatever that Vulcan word she’d called him was, he didn’t seem to mind.

Was it a pet name? From T’Pol?

It was getting harder and harder not to notice these little things – until T’Pol helped him by jacknifing,  and letting go all over again.

Trip was right there, like he’d expected it, but this time he only supported her as she leaned against him. “Stubborn little pepperpot.” He stroked sweat-soaked bangs off her forehead, and Jon turned his head when Trip leaned in to brush his lips against the newly revealed skin, as though the engineer had forgotten anyone else was there. “No fever. That’s good – but I’m taking you to Sickbay, and I don’t care how much you argue about it. You need the doc, pepperpot.”

“Stand down, Captain Tucker.” Jon was rewarded by a blush the fair-skinned engineer couldn’t hide.

T’Pol retched and brought up another thin stream of nothing that looked like food, and Jon realized that, much as he hated it, Trip was right. T’Pol needed medical attention – maybe she’d needed it for days. And Trip seemed to be able to support her in ways Jon was pretty sure she wouldn’t accept from anyone else – certainly not from him.

“Uhh – sorry, sir – but – ah, hell, T’Pol – damned volcanoes on the Fire Plains haven’t got a thing on you -”

What’s making T’Pol sick?

What did she call Trip?

What does it mean?

Will Jon let Trip take her to Sickbay?

Will T’Pol?

Is there anything left in her to bring up?

I’ll be posting the next ten lines from this scene for #8sunday, if you’d like to find out what’s next.

Okay, I’ll grant you that this isn’t the sexiest of romance scenes…but if I’ve learned anything in nearly eighteen years of marriage (and I’ve learned a great deal), it’s that the greatest expressions of love, the ones that can sustain a relationship, are often the ones that come in the less than wonderful times.

And, as we probably all know by now, Trip Tucker is a gentleman. And gentlemen take care of damsels in distress, even when the damsels have pointed ears and overly sensitive digestive tracts prone to spontaneous eruptions that still might douse their boots…

Could it be….true love?

Looking for more WIPpet Snippets where no one’s in danger of getting icky stuff on their boots? You can find those, or add your own date-related excerpt, by following the little blue froggy from WIPpet to WIPpet to WIPpet!

“Not a Damned Thing”: The IDIC Romance Freewriting Challenge

I was tagged for this nifty freewriting challenge by Kim Magennis.  I wrote my piece right away, but, as the kids and I were headed out on a camping trip hours later, and I hadn’t slept nearly enough, I set it aside – and then promptly forgot..

Now that I’ve settled back in, here it is, at last.

Kim’s topic was Unrequited Love, which, naturally, made me think of a certain Vulcan, and a certain often frustrated human…and so, I hereby present…

Disclaimer:

I don’t own these characters, or their franchise, and I’m not making any money from them.

Not a Damned Thing”

He stared at her, and wondered if she even remembered. Okay, he was staring at her backside, just the way he had when Henri took her to her table in Fusion – Trip wished he couldn’t remember exactly how long ago that was. Not because he didn’t want to remember that magical night when Miss Pointed Ears Under That Cowl stalked into his life, looking like a cross between a ninja, a dancer, and a Florida panther, but because it had put him through hell and back ever since, fantasizing about her.

None of those fantasies involved her standing there like she had a whole damned log up her ass, though, stiff and pretending like hell that she’d never seen him before, never stared into his eyes while she swayed to soft jazz, never opened the shutters he thought all Vulcans kept over their souls – their oh-so-logical souls – and damned near dragged him into her.

She stood there like he meant not a damned thing to her, like she’ d gone back into the Consulate and never given him even a second thought.

Well, two could play that game, couldn’t they?

Of course, it would be easier if she wasn’t wearing that damned perfume of hers, the one that seemed to shift and pulse through the Cap’n’s Ready Room, and through his body, straight to –

Down, boy!

He was so tempted to just stand up, stride the one and a half steps to her, spin her around, and tell her he wasn’t going to let her go until she told him what the hell she’d been up to that night, and why she was pretending that she hadn’t ever seen him before now.

But, if he did, Jon was gonna know there was something between them – or had been something, anyway – he’d sure as hell talked about the woman in the club that night, even dragged Jon back there, hoping to see her, wondering if his best friend the fancy starship Cap’n would pick up on the fact that the woman of his dreams wasn’t even human.

346words/10 minutes.

Time to fess up. Typing overtired and in the dark yielded scary results! Here’s the original:

He stared at her, and wondered if she even remembered. Okay, he was staring at her backside, just the way he had bwhen Henri took her to her table in fusion – Trip wished he couldn’t remember exactly how long ago that was. Not because he didnt’ want to remember that magical night when Mss Pointed Ears Under that Cowl stalked into his life, looking like a cross bwtween a ninja, a dancer, and a Florida panther, but because it had put him through hell and back ever since, fantasizing about her.

Nonw of those fantasies involved her standing tere like she had a whole damned log up her ass, though, stiff and pretending lke hell that she’d never seen him befoe, never stared into his eyes while she swayed to soft azz, never opened the shuttters he thought all Vulcans kept ober their souls – their oh-so-logical souls – and damned near dragged him into her.

She stood there like her meant not a damned thing to her, like she’ d gone back into the Consulate and never given him even a second thought.

Well, two could play that ganme, couldn’t they?

Of course, it would be easier, if she wasn’t wearing that damned perfume of hers, the one that seemed to shift and pulse throught the Cap’n’s Ready Room, and through his body, straight to –

Down boy!

He was so tempted to just stand up, stride the one and ahalf steps to her, spin her awrond, and tell her he wasn’t going to let her go until she told him what they hell she’d been up to that night, and why she was pretending that she hadn’t ever seen him before now.

But, if he did, Jon was gonna know there was something between them – or had been something, anyway – he’d sure as hell talked about the woman in the clud that night, even dragged Jon back there, hoping to see her, wondering if his best frined the fancy starship Cap’n would pik up on the fact that the woman of his dreams wasn’t evven humam.

Tag, You’re It! (no pressure, if you’re not into it!)

Rules (Paraphrased):

  1. Open a document in your word processor.
  2. Set a timer for 5 or 10 minutes – whichever challenge you prefer.
  3. Your topic is at the end of this post – DON’T SCROLL DOWN UNTIL YOU ARE READY TO BEGIN.
  4. Once you began writing don’t stop; even to edit.
  5. Leave spelling/grammar errors as-is (unless this makes you way too twitchy; then maybe share corrected and original versions, like I did).
  6. You may ignore punctuation and capitals, though it’s easier for others to read if you don’t!
  7. At the end of your post, add your word count/ time spent.
  8. Copy/paste the entire passage to your blog post, along with these rules.
  9. Tag bloggers who migh enjoy the game..
  10. Include a new topic for others to play with!

Ready, Set…

Your Topic Is….below this image!

Annalise as Nightmare Fairy.

Fantasy!

(topic provided by my 11 year old daughter, Annalise).

“You Missed My Boots”: The IDIC Romance for #WeWriWa #8Sunday

79782-shade

 

Welcome to Weekend Writing Warriors’ Eight Sentence Sunday!

It’s the weekly hop for everyone who loves to write! Sign up below with your name, blog and email and share an 8 to 10 sentence snippet of your writing on Sunday. Your post needs to be live between 12:00 noon on Saturday and 9:00 AM on Sunday. Visit other participants on the list and read, critique, and comment on their #8sunday posts.

It’s a second chance to share a small snippet of my current writing. Most weeks, I tie them back to my WIPpet Wednesday  post, so reading both can give a deeper peek…

This ten-sentence snippet follows immediately after last week’s WIPpet Wednesday  post,Eat Up”.*

Before you read on, a disclaimer:

T‘Pol, Trip, and Captain Archer are not my creations, nor my property. They contend that they belong to themselves, and, if people are going to tell their stories, they should at least tell them properly…

* I missed last Sunday due to camping without internet, so here’s the link to my July 29 WIPpet, “All Perfectly Normal”, for context.

To recap:

 Captain Jonathan Archer has interrupted a standoff between Trip and T’Pol, with a chair as the battlefield. He has to work hard at not noticing all the little ways the engineer offers the Vulcan woman comfort, and how willingly she accepts the gestures – publicly. Now, Jon’s ordered the recalcitrant and finally seated First Officer to eat her breakfast…

You Missed My Boots”

T’Pol said a single word, softly, in Vulcan. She placed the spoon to her lips, but didn’t open her mouth, or even seem to be breathing.

Jon waited for a five count, watching her, then said, “We’ll get started as soon as you’ve finished your plomeek broth, T’Pol.”

Her lips parted just enough to allow the tip of the spoon into her mouth.

Trip started out from behind the First Officer’s chair like he was her protector. “Cap’n, I don’t think it’s a good idea to try to make her -”

T’Pol lurched up, her face pale and panicked, and clutched the display table, swaying. Her cup shattered on the deck plating, splashing hot liquid on Trip, who ignored it and grabbed T’Pol just as her knees gave out. She made a strangled, retching moan, and her stomach jettisoned its contents in a spewing gush of thin clear liquid that doused both the engineer and the table in a bilious mess.

Trip gathered the still-heaving Vulcan into his arms, and whispered, “You missed my boots, pepperpot, so I guess we still aren’t even.”

Did the broth make T’Pol sick?

Are Trip’s boots really safe?

Will Jon notice this?

Will he ever again order T’Pol to eat?

And what does Trip mean, they still aren’t even?

Want more #8Sunday?

The icon is your portal!

79782-shade

 

“Enthuse Me”: The IDIC Romance for SoCS

Swimming in the stream of consciousness! Badge by Doobster @ Mindful Digressions.

This post is part of Linda G.Hill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday meme -an unedited stream of consciousness piece that ties into the weekly prompt: “enthuse.” Add a prefix or suffix to it or leave it as it is and go to town with it! 

My kids and I were camping, last weekend and I had no internet access. It was a wonderful trip – and I’m glad to be home, and back here, swimming in the stream of consciousness!

Disclaimers:

I don’t own Star Trek, and I make no money from these stories. They’re my passion and my playground, which I freely share.

This passage is rated PG-13 for language and suggestiveness. Proceed at your own discretion.

This “add-on” scene takes place between S1E1 and 2:“Broken Arrow”, the series premiere, and S1E3: “Fight or Flight”. Mild spoilers for both.

“Enthuse Me”

“All right, T’Pol – enthuse me.”

‘Enthuse’?” She looked at the Cap’n, her voice flat. “I’m uncertain I understand how ‘enthusing’ you will serve this ship’s mission.”

Trip watched her. Arrogant – she was the most arrogant woman he’d ever met. He damned sure should’ve expected that; every Vulcan he’d ever met had been as arrogant as hell.

Why should she be any exception?

“Tell me something exciting – something worth exploring.”

Trip had a powerful memory of her extremely enthusiastic response to his first kiss – damn, gotta stop thinking about that, or the enthusiasm she’d shown when she went over his shoulders five times with that decon gel, when only once would’ve done the trick.

Yeah, he’d damned well better stop thinking about it – because certain parts of him were far more than slightly enthusiastically eager to have more of her amazingly considerable charms…yeah, he could spend the rest of his life exploring her charms -being pinned beneath her, her frantic motions damned near sealing the deal even with all the clothes they’d had between them –

“Scientifically speaking, Captain, this region of space has very little that even humans might deem ‘exciting’.”

It had been exciting, and more than a little scary, when she’d slammed him back into the wall, then sagged against him, so that he had to pull her in close, feel those curves and muscles against him, and then he’d been so overwhelmed by the undeniable womanliness of her form that he’d bent to kiss her…

“I wasn’t speaking scientifically, T’Pol. Come on, there’s got to be something we can look at, or take readings of.”

“I’ve been reviewing the specifics of Enterprise‘s mission,” T’Pol’s face never shifted, never revealed a hint of any emotion. Probably no one else aboard would believe him if he told them what he had shared with her, in that cell, and in the decon chamber. She’d played with his ear – even, he thought, made a joke about failing to see his point… “It is extremely vague in its determination of what parameters define circumstances worthy of deeper research.”

You’re worthy of deeper research, T’Pol… But he couldn’t say that aloud, at least not where anyone else could hear him – and she sure as hell wasn’t letting him close enough anymore to say it where no one else would. Not since she’d walked in on Claire Simmons-or-whatever-her married-name-was planting on on him.

Damn his luck, and being so enthusiastic about being a gentleman….

“Well, it’s about time you started getting a handle on how we think. Trip, you’re Mister Enthusiasm – clue her in. What’s worth a better look?”

“With all due respect, Captain, I have already had more experience with Commander Tucker’s – enthusiasm – than I find agreeable.” Her stare fixed on him, and it was glacial. Like the biting air on Rigel 10…Trip had to suppress a shiver.

He pretended not to notice her glare, or to know a damned thing about what she was talking about. Better just to answer the Cap’n, and get out of this as fast as he could. “Well, there’s three Minshara class planets within three days at Warp Four, sir.”

“Now that’s something to get enthusiastic about. T’Pol, any life signs on any of Commander Tucker’s worlds?”

“Yes, sir.” She used her paired fingers to indicate one of the blips on the display, and her perfume wafted up to his nose as she leaned in, that delicious citrus and sandalwood laced with mineral scents. “This planet indicates lower levels of life, up to simple invertebrates. Neither of the others contains more than a scattered array of microbial life.”

“Simple invertebrates, eh?” If he had to put up with her freezing him out after revving him up, he was damned well gonna tease her once in a while, to get even. “Well, T’Pol, maybe you’re just really out of practice with being enthusiastic, but that sure as hell enthuses me!”

Jon gave him that look that said he knew Trip was up to something, but didn’t know quite what and didn’t really want to, either.

“Honestly, I’m not so sure I’m enthused. But, since you are, Trip, work with T’Pol to get the sensors set up the way she wants them, and be prepared to open up your engines. We might as well go have a look.”

“Shall we begin, Commander? I am uncertain as to whether I understand your enthusiasm, and I don’t share it. However, if it will make this assignment proceed more efficiently than our initial efforts to modify the sensors, I support it.”

“Well, I guess I should be thankful for small favors, then.” Like the view he got when he did the gentlemanly thing and let her go into the turbolift ahead of him…

Now there was something to enthuse a man.

Have you tried stream-of consciousness writing? Come join in – there’s just a few simple rules. Check out the brand-new #SoCS hashtag, or Get more SoCS right here! 

Let the icon be your portal!

“Eat Up”: An IDIC Gift for my WIPpet Wednesday Due Date!

Welcome to WIPpet Wednesday, a weekly blog hop which encourages writers to move WIPs (works-in-progress) to publication by posting excerpts related to the date. It’s hosted by the lovely K.L. Schwengel, maven of bad boys, stock dogs, and flying monkeys! She‘s our fearless shepherd…or something like that, anyway

Last Wednesday, July 29, was my birthday, but today is the date my birth was predicted to happen. Perhaps there’s a little bit of irony in the fact that I’m typing this at 7:10pm on Wednesday, when I hoped to write it yesterday, at the latest…but I was born a week early.

So, as a bit of a ‘I was supposed to be born on this date’ gift – another week of Trip, T’Pol, and the standoff about sitting down…

Intransigence in Action….

WIPpet Math:

Today is August 5, 2015.

I‘ve got five sentences today.

Before you read on, a disclaimer:

I don’t own Star Trek (I’m really not sure anyone truly can, at this point, despite what legal documents may say), and I have no intention to attempt to make any money off my favorite Vulcan and the brave human who dares to love her. It’s just that they keep dragging me into their lives, and they’re both rather intransigent about it…

For those keeping track, this story comes from my discards from last year; in its original form, it was backstory and development for this poem. I brought it out of the trash bin a few weeks back, and y I’m revising piecemeal as I go.

For those just joining in, here’s the deal – Captain Jonathan Archer approaches the Situation Room, and hears Trip and T’Pol having a standoff about sitting. Jon somewhat intentionally doesn’t notice all the little intimacies between his second and third in command, but he does notice that T’Pol seems exhausted – too exhausted even to butt heads with her favorite human sparring partner. Trip’s giving her some kind of massage, and, very unexpectedly, T’Pol seems to find comfort and solace in the contact, even in public, and on duty. Hoshi arrives with the plomeek soup Trip ordered for T’Pol, and Trip finally gets T’Pol to sit down by more or less putting her in the chair.

We pick up after Trip’s last line:

 “Now, with the Cap’n’s permission, you’re going to have some breakfast before you fade away into nothing.” 

Eat Up”

“Eat up, T’Pol,” Jon said, and gestured to Hoshi to give her the cup of broth with its specially designed Vulcan spoon.

“Please, Captain. I’m not hungry.” T’Pol eyed the cup as though she thought her breakfast might leap out of it and attack her.

“That’s an order, Commander T’Pol.”

Trip swallowed hard, almost gulping, and Jon pretended not to hear his whispered, “Oh, damn, pepperpot – I’m so sorry.”

Why is Trip so sorry?

Will T’Pol eat?

Will the Captain insist, if she still resists?

Will her breakfast attack, or behave itself?

I’ll be posting the next few lines from this scene for #8sunday, if you’d like to learn more…(I know, I said that last week, too, and then I didn’t, because Camping. This week’s going to be different, though…).

Looking for WIPpet Snippets where people notice things, and no one’s being ordered to eat Vulcan soup?

You can find those, or add your own date-related excerpt, by following the little blue froggy from WIPpet to WIPpet!

Maybe T’Pol’s drunk?  (Well, maybe not…)

All Perfectly Normal: An IDIC Gift for my WIPpet Wednesday Birthday!

Welcome to WIPpet Wednesday, a weekly blog hop which encourages writers to move WIPs (works-in-progress) to publication by posting excerpts related to the date. It’s hosted by the lovely K.L. Schwengel, maven of bad boys, stock dogs, and flying monkeys! She‘s our fearless shepherd…or something like that, anyway

Well, hello, July 29! Fancy meeting you here, as my life clicks over on another year filled with lovely chaos…

Riiiggghhhtttt…happens every year, at this time. And, since I’m not one for birthday parties or fussing (too close to July 25, which is important to me for very different reasons); and since I might not get to many WIPpets till after the weekend, because Camping (Yay, CAMPING!!!!), aI thought I’d give you all a gift, instead of the other way round…

Here you go!

Yup, I DID draft over 75K in 17 days….*pinches self; then looks at word counts again, to be sure* More than that; there are more than a few good words and meaty parts to develop – and I’ve still got a ways to go…

But I’m taking it easy, for the rest of the month, to play with other things, like:

  • Water,
  • my kids,
  • our friends,
  • revisions,
  • plotting,
  • prepping,
  • critiquing….

Oh, and did I forget?

THESE TWO!

WIPpet Math:

  • Today is July 29, 2015.
  • I was born at 6:59am, July 29, 1969. Obviously, I have an affinity for the number 9….
  • Which also happens to be 3 squared – and three is my favorite number. =D
  • So, by the power invested in my by WIPpet math and being the Birthday Girl, I add 9+3 to give you a dozen sentences.

Before you read on, a disclaimer:

I don’t own Star Trek (I’m really not sure anyone truly can, at this point, despite what legal documents may say), and I have no intention to attempt to make any money off my favorite Vulcan and the brave human who dares to love her. It’s just that they keep dragging me into their lives, and they’re both rather intransigent about it…

For those keeping track, this story comes from my discards from last year; in its original form, it was backstory and development for this poem. I brought it out of the trash bin a few weeks back, and you can find the other installments of this story, which I’m revising piecemeal as I go, by following these links:

 

For those too busy to click those links, here’s the deal –

Captain Jonathan Archer approaches the Situation Room, and hears Trip and T’Pol having a standoff about sitting. Jon intentionally ‘doesn’t notice’ all the little intimacies between his second and third in command, but he does notice that T’Pol seems exhausted – too exhausted even to butt heads with her favorite human sparring partner. Trip’s giving her some kind of massage, and, very unexpectedly, T’Pol seems to find comfort and solace in the contact, even in public, and on duty.

We pick up from these lines:

Vulcans weren’t humans; T’Pol was entitled to her own brand of grief. And all the better, if she’d let Trip support her even a little – helping people was just his nature, and had been as long as Jon had known him


All Perfectly Normal

Jon decided to let well enough be well enough, and not notice the way Trip put one leg out behind him, using his foot to hook the chair. Or T’Pol’s uncharacteristic relaxation; she clearly found whatever the engineer was doing ‘agreeable’. Was this that neuropressure they’d started, back in the Expanse, when Trip couldn’t sleep?

He wanted to ask, but he remembered in time that the Vulcan discipline was considered intimate. If T’Pol needed it enough to accept it here, in the Situation Room, it would be foolish and maybe even unkind to point out to her that he knew it.

Instead, he acted like all this was perfectly normal. “All right then – what have we got for today?”

“Plomeek broth,” Trip said, as Hoshi came around the corner with a steaming cup presumably filled with the traditional Vulcan breakfast. “And the chair – didn’t think I forgot about that, did you?” He wrapped his arms gently around the First Officer; now both Jon and Hoshi were working hard at not noticing, so they looked at each other, darting glances to the other two as Trip maneuvered T’Pol into the chair. “There, now, that feels better,” he told her, as though he knew it was true. “Now, with the Cap’n’s permission, you’re going to have some breakfast before you fade away into nothing.”

Will T’Pol stay in the chair?

Will the Captain OK her impromptu meal?
Will T’Pol eat, even if he does?

Is Trip going to be sorry for being so presumptuous?

I’ll be posting the next few lines from this scene for #8sunday,  if you’d like to learn more…

Looking for WIPpet Snippets where people notice things, and no one’s making anyone sit or having a birthday or plying them with Vulcan soup? You can find those, or add your own date-related excerpt, by following the little blue froggy from WIPpet to WIPpet!