Gigi Sinclair

"So, you're in security?" Lieutenant Charles "Trip" Tucker looked across the table at the well-built man on the other side. Crewman Tony Vardalos was how he had introduced himself when, after nearly two weeks of banter over the zero-g weight machines in the gym, Trip had gathered the courage to ask if the man wanted to come for a beer.

"Hope to be," Tony replied, picking up the glass in one of his huge ham fists. Trip didn't usually go for the muscle-bound type, but it had been a long time since he'd gone for anyone, and Christine was threatening to set him up with her cousin. So he'd taken the bull by the horns. "I'm in custodial at the moment."

"Oh." Trip tried to sound enthused. "I bet that's interesting."

Tony shrugged. "I can unblock a chemical toilet with one hand tied behind my back." Trip wondered if that was a joke, but Tony didn't seem like he had a particularly highly developed sense of humour. But the rest of him was developed just fine, Trip reminded himself, and that was what counted. "Wanna see?" Tony made a move to stand and, quickly, Trip said,

"Maybe later. Are you hungry?" He gestured at Ruby, who took her sweet time in wandering over to their table.

"Get you something, fellas?"

"I'll have a cheeseburger and fries. Tony?"

"Same thing, only make mine a double order. And a pitcher of this stuff," he held up his glass and winked. "And make it snappy, OK, hon?"

Ruby got a dangerous gleam to her eyes. "No problem, sweetie." Trip had the distinct feeling that Tony's burger would be garnished with more than just Club 602's "secret sauce." He only hoped he wasn't judged guilty by association.

"That's one sweet ass, huh, Chip?" Tony leered at Ruby's retreating form. "You ever try it out?"

"Chip" sighed. "No."

He wasn't entirely surprised when, after Tony had downed a double cheeseburger, two orders of fries, most of a pitcher and a banana split larger than Trip's newest nephew, he conveniently realized he'd forgotten his wallet in the locker room. "I'll pay you back next time I see you, OK, Chip?"

"Fine," Trip took out his credit tokens. He wasn't entirely surprised, or at all disappointed, when he never saw Tony Vardalos again.

***

"You come here often?" Trip asked, as he held the door open for Ensign Jackie Ferguson.

"No," she cast an appraising eye around 602.

"Well, ah, can I get you something?"

"White wine, please."

"You bet." Trip grinned and joined the crush of people around the bar. "Why don't you find a seat?" She nodded and Trip watched appreciatively as she walked away. He liked Jackie. She was the nurse who had stitched him up when he slipped off a ladder and bounced off the prototype warp five engine before hitting the floor. Under the influence of a near-death experience and a lot of pain medication, he'd offered to buy her a drink after her shift and he'd been overjoyed when she agreed.

Even though Club 602 clearly wasn't her usual style. She found a table and, wrinkling her nose, pulled a lacy handkerchief from her pocket and wiped off the chair before sitting down. Well, Trip told himself, nothing wrong with that. She was a nurse, after all, and 602 wasn't the most sanitary place in the world.

"I'm afraid I can't stay too long," Jackie told him, when he joined her with her white wine and his beer. "I don't like to leave my babies on their own."

"You got kids?" Trip asked, in a tone that he hoped conveyed it was fine with him. He loved kids and unless things picked up in that department, he wasn't going to be having any of his own in the foreseeable future. "How old?"

"Cassandra and Alexandra are seven, Elizabeth is five, and Richard and Charles are three."

Five children, then. Trip raised his eyebrows. "And you left them alone?"

"My neighbour looks in on them every now and then. They're very independent."

"Still, they're just little…"

"They are very mature," Jackie insisted, a frown coming to her face. "I can show you a picture if you like." She rifled in her purse and produced not one, but an entire PADD of photographs, all of five immaculately groomed, long haired white cats. Trip flicked through pictures of the cats sitting on Santa Claus's lap, riding a horse, and wearing diamond-studded collars at what was apparently some kind of party.

"They're just cats," Trip smiled, relieved. Then he returned the PADD to Jackie and saw her staring at him like he'd insulted her mother.

"They are not 'just' cats. Cassandra tested in the ninety-eighth percentile for feline intelligence, and Richard was nearly Best of Breed at last year's national show." Jackie's eyes narrowed. "He would have got it, too, if not for that cheating Buttercup and his illegal hair extensions.

"But it doesn't matter," she declared, slamming her fist so adamantly on the table that a small wave of wine spilled over onto the coaster, and Ruby looked over from the bar. "I've got three weeks' leave coming, and I'm going to New York to appeal the ruling. It states very clearly that no artificial aids are to be used. They have to overturn the decision, or I'll take them to court. The case of Muffin versus the Judges of 2113 established that hair extensions are as illegal as steroids when it comes to cat shows…"

Trip sipped his beer and glanced at his watch.

***

"You really know the Larsens?" Trip grinned as Lieutenant Mike Randall nodded vigorously.

"All of 'em. My sister was best friends with Emmeline all through high school."

"No kidding. What about Howard?"

"With his…"

"Red shoes on Wednesdays!" They finished together, and Trip laughed. He'd taken notice of Mike Randall when the young man had come over from the science department to borrow some equipment, and had asked for it in a Southern accent more pronounced than Trip's. Trip had been amazed to find that Mike not only came from Florida, but he had grown up just a few miles from Trip's grandmother's place in Pensacola.

"I wonder what they're up to these days."

"Ginger told me Emmeline's running a hotel on the coast. I figure Howard's probably driving all her guests away."

"No kidding." Trip took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. He and Mike had been laughing more or less constantly since they'd left the warp five complex together, nearly three hours earlier.

Trip hadn't seen it as a date, but when Mike leaned forward, a lock of dark hair falling into his blue eyes, Trip's stomach shifted downwards and he had to clear his suddenly dry throat. "So, Trip, I was thinking maybe you and I could continue this somewhere a little more…private?"

Trip smiled, and his heart pounded a little faster. "That could be arranged."

Mike was good in bed, but more than that, he was fun. So much fun, that when he rolled off Trip and panted, "Marry me," Trip thought he was kidding.

"Sure, Mike. Just name the date."

"How about next Saturday?"

Trip laughed again, but this time, he did so alone. He opened his eyes and found himself staring into the very earnest expression of Mike Randall. "What?"

"I'm serious, Trip. I've never met anyone like you."

Trip sat up quickly. "Listen, Mike, I like you and all, but I really don't think…"

Mike blinked. "I thought you were serious about this."

"We just met." Staring at him, Mike stood up and left the room. A moment later, Trip heard the slamming of a door.

After two hours, Trip supposed the chances of Mike coming back and saying it was some kind of bizarre joke were pretty slim. He got dressed and left the apartment. The next morning, an Ensign Waterford brought back the equipment Mike had borrowed and, when Trip asked, told him Mike had asked to be reassigned to Mars colony.

***

"You must be Christine's cousin." Trip stood up chivalrously as the blonde woman approached.

"That's me. Laura." Smiling, Laura held out a hand. "You must be the sexy warp five engineer."

Trip smiled. "I don't know about that."

"Believe me, anything to do with the warp five engine is sexy." She sat down across from him, flashing a hand signal to Ruby. "We minions that toil in private industry would give anything for a look at it."

"Christine mentioned you were an engineer." And although that hadn't seemed like a selling point at the time, Trip was beginning to think he might have been too hasty.

"If you can call it that. We're trying to figure out a way to replicate food. So far, we've got a ham sandwich that tastes like a strawberry milkshake and a strawberry milkshake that tastes like corn on the cob. It makes for some interesting consumer tests, that's for sure." Trip laughed as Ruby came over. He reached for his credit tokens, but Laura waved him down. "You can get the next round." She sipped her beer and smiled. "That's good stuff. I forgot, you Starfleet types know how to have a good time."

She seemed like a great person, but Trip had been down this road before. He played with his beer mat and cautiously asked, "You, ah, you got any pets, Laura?"

"A cat."

"Just the one?"

"That's all I want. Damn thing tears the house apart every time I leave it alone."

So far, so good. "You real eager to get married or anything?"

"Are you kidding?"

Trip sighed with relief. "Good."

"I'm already married."

"What?"

"To Hayden Carter."

Please, God, Trip prayed silently. If you exist, let that be a joke. "Hayden Carter, the movie star?"

"Yes." Laura nodded sincerely. Score one for atheism. "We got married three years ago in Mexico. He'd probably be upset if he saw me here, but he's been going around with that Japanese model, so I don't think he can really complain." She glanced around, then lowered her voice. "We have to keep it a secret, because of his agent. But as soon as he's done filming his next movie, we're going to make it public. We're even going to have another wedding, in Beverly Hills."

"Right." Trip rubbed at his eyes. "Send me an invitation."

***

"Look, she was getting therapy, OK? We thought she was over it." Christine smiled apologetically. "She's a really great person. If you just give her another chance…"

"I'm not giving anyone chances, Christine. I'm giving up." On men and women. When he'd announced his bisexuality to his parents, Trip's mother, in the interests of putting the best face on things, had said, "Well, at least you'll always have plenty of dates, dear." She hadn't mentioned that every one of them would be with some kind of weirdo.

"You're just going through a rough patch at the moment," Christine soothed. "Everyone has them. You can't just give up."

"Watch me." Reaching over, Trip put one grease-stained hand on the top of the prototype engine. Holding up the other hand, he promised, "I swear by all I hold sacred, I am never going on another date as long as I live." He's barely lowered his hand when the door to the hangar opened and Christine turned around.

"Can I help you, sir?"

The man, tall, broad-shouldered and wearing the insignia of a commander came over to where Christine and Trip were working. "I'm looking for Lieutenant Tucker."

"Yes, sir." The man smiled, and Trip refused to let that have any effect on him whatsoever.

"I'm Jonathan Archer. I hear you've been defending my father."

Trip shrugged. "He was a good man."

"Thank you." Archer extended a hand to Trip. Trip took it, not realizing until it was too late that his hand was still covered in grease. When Archer pulled away, he looked at his grease-covered hand for a moment, smiled, and said, "Can I buy you a drink?"

Ignoring Christine, who appeared to be having some kind of fit, Trip looked at Commander Archer. "My shift ends at six, sir."

"I'll meet you in 602, then, Lieutenant." Archer's smile got bigger, and Trip told himself that the little flipping sensation in his stomach was because he'd skipped breakfast, nothing more. "Ensign," Archer nodded at Christine, who saluted, and left the hangar.

"Not a date," he told Christine, before she could get a word out.

"Right." She rolled her eyes. "Of course, sir."

Trip picked up his toolbox. "Get back to work, Ensign."

***

"Trip, are you coming to bed, or were you planning on passing out on the floor? Again?"

"I'll be right there," Trip yelled back and reluctantly switched off the computer. Stopping by the kitchen, he got a glass of water, let the dogs out, and after making sure all the doors and windows were locked, headed upstairs.

He smiled when he saw the man he'd been not-dating for nearly twenty-five years sprawled on their bed with his eyes closed.

"I know you ain't sleeping, Jon."

"I should be," Jonathan replied, cracking one eye open. "I'm an old man. You're not doing me any good."

"That wasn't what you were saying earlier. Computer, lights." The lights dimmed and Trip slid into bed beside Jon.

"You know," Jon continued, thoughtfully. "I got a message from Hoshi the other day. Apparently, today's national 'dump your significant jerk' day."

"And here I forgot to put up the tree." Trip lay back on the pillow, enjoying the feel of Jon's moving closer.

"I thought you were in charge of the cards."

Smiling, Trip rolled over so his head was on Jon's shoulder. "Does that mean her and Malcolm are finally calling it off? Cause I heard Matt Hayes is single again, and you know I always thought him and Mal had something goin' on…"

"No, I'm pretty sure their relationship is solid."

"What about ours?" Trip was joking, but it still felt good when Jon said,

"I think I'll keep you."

Trip was nearly asleep when Jon added, "I don't want to start dating again, anyway."