Malcolm Reed: Sex Kitten?


Malcolm woke to the sound of the alarm.  Stretching, he sighed, certain that the day ahead was going to be a long one.  Then again, how many days had been short, lately?  With alien crises, ship modifications, crew rescues, and other things to deal with, it seemed as though he was perpetually exhausted.

Moving from his rumpled and empty bed, he checked his schedule for the day.  His morning was filled with crew training and tactical rehearsals, followed by a meeting with Ensign Mayweather.  A brief lunch, a discussion with some of the engineering staff about weaponry upgrades, his daily workout, and a meeting with Trip - he'd said it was important and personal - were scheduled for the afternoon.  The captain had asked him to join him in his quarters for a working dinner, and afterwards he had a social appointment with Phlox, who wanted to know more about Malaysia.

He strode towards the shower.  An officer at his best was always well groomed.

* * *


He rolled the massive man off him.  "No, Johnston, holding me like that just gives me the opportunity to target you here."  He made his point with a sharp jab to Johnston's abdomen, internally wincing at the harsh groan that ensued.  "You really need to remember to protect your vulnerable areas."  Johnston was usually a competent crewman, but today his grappling technique seemed to consist of quasi-gropes and awkward grabs.  Standing, Malcolm dismissed him and pointed to the next crewman, trying to ignore what he was fairly certain
was an assessing smirk at his bum.

"You, Novakovitch, your turn."  Novakovitch tackled him with a little too much enthusiasm, if inadequate technique.  Damn he was going to be a mess after this session, even if the crew seemed to have minimal skills.

Twisting, he wondered if that had just been a pinch on his left bum cheek.

* * *

His schedule was interrupted by the untimely arrival of yet another hostile species.  He spent a good twenty minutes running around as the ship was battered, then boarded.   He held the aliens off from the bridge, pleased with his firing and with Johnston, who suspiciously seemed more battle competent.

Of course, the captain negotiated a truce, the aliens left the ship, and Malcolm was free to get on with his schedule. Glancing at the time, he cursed.  Ten minutes late for his meeting with Ensign Mayweather.

* * *

By the time he arrived at Mayweather's quarters, he was panting slightly from the run.  He hit the keypad, and the door slid open, revealing a somewhat annoyed, but understanding ensign. They walked into the room.

"Hello.  Sorry I'm running late.  Aliens and all."

Travis rolled his eyes.  "I know, I was there.  I just got here myself."

"So, you mentioned you had some things to discuss with me?"

Mayweather grinned and handed him a drink.  "Yes.  First, I'd like to discuss why you're still wearing that uniform.  Then I thought we'd discuss the fit of your mouth around my -- why are you choking?"

"Ahmm -- strong brandy.  Isn't it a little early for this stuff?" Were Mayweather's fingers working on the opening of his uniform? Was this some kind of alien-induced hallucination?  "Are you feeling fine, ensign?"

Mayweather laughed lightly.  "Perfectly fine.  And maybe you should think about calling me Travis."

In the end, they didn't discuss much.  And he ended up calling Travis more than just his name.

* * *


Bugger.  Damn.  He was going to be late for the meeting with the engineers.  He pulled on his uniform, trying to avoid staring at Travis.  The man was smirking at him slightly.  "Thanks, Travis. That was wonderful."

"I should think so."

"I have to run.  Maybe we could do this again sometime?"

Travis grinned more widely.  "Definitely."

He grinned back, and stooped for a kiss.  "Um.  Do you have anything to eat in here?  I missed lunch.  Not that I'm complaining."

Travis pushed himself off the bed, and Malcolm tried to maintain his composure at the sight.  Then, something small and roundish was being tossed in his direction.  A bagel?  He caught it and stared at it blankly for a moment.  Ah yes, food.  He shook his head, hoping to clear it.  "Thanks.  See you later?"

"Oh yes."

* * *

The meeting was short-staffed, since several of the intended participants were involved with post-battle repairs. Trip had also declined to attend, stating that he trusted Malcolm and his staff to keep him posted.

He tried to concentrate on the discussion of retrofits and weaponry upgrades.  Since he was leading the brainstorming session, it seemed only appropriate to get his mind off of Travis' bum.  He congratulated himself for managing to be successful for minutes at a time.

Eventually, the engineers seemed satisfied, and went off, eager to try out new tricks.  He received several slaps on the back, and he supposed that he'd seemed competent, despite his wandering mind.  The last engineer, Rostov, walked by, delivering another slap, one that lingered.  And seemed to stroke down his back. What the hell?

By the time he looked around, Rostov was gone.  Ah well.  Time to get changed into exercise gear and work out.  After all, an officer at his best was always well toned.

* * *

He emerged from the recreational centre high on endorphins and covered in sweat.  He was meeting with Trip in 20 minutes - enough time to have a shower and change back into his uniform. Somehow he doubted his friend would appreciate him turning up looking, and probably smelling, like hell.

Although, that hadn't seemed to deter the ensign who had just made a pass at him.  What exactly was going on today?  Ah well, he'd think about it later, when he had more time.

He arrived at Trip's door right on time, hitting the keypad to request entrance.  A muffled "C'mon in" was followed by the door opening.  He stepped into the room to see Trip sitting at his desk, pouring over engineering schematics.  "Hi."

Trip turned, a broad grin on his face.  "Malcolm!  Right on time, now isn't that just like you.  Have a seat."

He did, neglecting to mention how late he'd been running this morning.

"You're lookin' kinda tired.  Can I get you something?"

"Tea would be lovely. "

"Comin' right up.  How was the meeting?"

"It went well, thank you.  I'll give you a report by tomorrow. Were there any major repairs from the alien attack?"

"Nah.  Nothin' too bad.  I've got teams workin' on it right now. I'll look everything over later."  Trip walked over, tea in hand. "Their weapons were more sparkle than power.  They were just lucky to get on board."

Lucky could end up fatal for the crew.  He'd have to talk to the captain about increased security measures.  At least they learned something new every encounter.  He sipped his tea.  "Yes.  So, you requested this meeting?   You mentioned it was personal. Something urgent?"

Trip sat down, looking at him steadily.  "Yeah, I'd say so.  You ever think about dating on this ship?"

He willed himself not to blush, thinking about Travis. "Possibly. It certainly wouldn't be easy.  Is she very special?"

Trip nodded.  "Real special.  'Cept she's not a she."


"I figure some of the crew might get all pissy about it, but that's their problem, right?"

"Right.  Are you going to tell me who this person is?  Or must I wait in suspense for the ship's gossip?"

Trip stood, pacing slightly in the small room.  It was interesting to see him so much less confident than usual.  He followed Trip's movements with his eyes for a few moments, but didn't bother to twist as his friend moved to pace behind him.

"I take it I'll have to wait in suspense, then."

The air stirred behind him and something wet touched his earlobe - a tongue?  Trip's voice was low in his ear.  "I don't think you'll be in suspense much longer."

He wasn't.

* * *

He woke with a start, uncertain of where he was and why he couldn't move.  Blinking, he took stock of his situation, and realised that he couldn't move because Trip was lying half over him.  Gently, he shook the man's shoulder.  "Trip?  I'm going to be late for my meeting with the captain."

A grumbled response was all he got.  He pushed again.

"Yer no fun, you know that Malcolm?"  The words were slightly indistinct.

"Hmph. That's not what you were saying a little while ago."

"You should at least relax a little afterwards."  Trip pushed away from him.

Rising, Malcolm smiled.  "I'm very relaxed, thanks to you.  I just don't want to keep the captain waiting.  He probably wants to spend a few hours analysing the alien attack."

Trip mumbled into the pillow, and Malcolm caught a few words, "analyse this" and "damn" and "captain".  He reached out and stroked his hand through Trip's hair.  "Sleep well."  He headed for a quick shower.

* * *


It seemed that the captain was less concerned about the aliens and other work than he was about Malcolm's state of mind.

"I just think that perhaps you need to make closer connections with people on the ship, Malcolm.  You're a valuable member of the team, and I don't want you to be unhappy.  Unhappiness leads to inefficiency, and that's something this ship can't afford."

He sounded somewhat like T'Pol, which was disconcerting.   "I appreciate your concern, sir, but I'm fine."

"You'd tell me if there was anything I could do to make you happier, wouldn't you?"  The look on his face was distressingly earnest.


Archer beamed at him.  "Great.  That's great to hear!"  Archer's hand had somehow made it's way to his leg.

"Um, Sir?"

Archer leaned closer, his breath brushing Malcolm's ear.  "Call me Jon."

Oh dear.  Again?  Not that he was complaining.

* * *

He was weary and sore, and he and the captain hadn't made it past a few bites of dinner.  Tea and pastries with Phlox were just what he needed.  He'd contemplated cancelling, but Phlox had become a good friend, and they enjoyed each other's company.

They lingered over their drinks, Phlox asking questions about Malaysia and Earth customs, and offering stories of Denobula.  It was an entertaining time.  Finally, drinks finished, and conversation exhausted, he rose to say good night.  Phlox reached out, brushing his arm lightly.

"Lieutenant, would you care to join Ensign Cutler and myself for more, ah -- intimate -- recreation?"

His eyes widened.  He was somewhat taken aback.  Then again - he'd always wondered about sex with an alien species.  Trip and the captain had had some hints, and it was time he did as well. He thought about it for a moment...Phlox was a good friend and Cutler was a lovely woman.  He smiled.  "I'd be delighted."

Although at first he was slightly perplexed, he ended up more than just delighted.

* * *

Staggering slightly, he made his way back to his quarters.  He was aware he looked somewhat rumpled, and that a wide grin was plastered on his face. He probably looked insane.  He must have been more dazed than he thought - but he *had* had a long day - because he didn't immediately notice T'Pol coming down the hall towards him.


"Ah.  Sub-commander.  Lovely evening."

She quirked an eyebrow at him and for  moment, all he could think was 'Please no, not again'.  His relief was palpable when she walked by him.

* * *

Malcolm woke to the sound of the alarm.  Stretching, he sighed, and was momentarily appalled at the ache of his muscles.   What had he been up to yesterday?  He tried to remember - training, ah yes, alien attack, an overly long workout.  Still that didn't seem to account for --

His eyes snapped open, and he quickly checked his bed to see if he was alone.  Thankfully, he was.  What had happened yesterday? They'd all thrown themselves at him as though he were a -- sex kitten or something of that sort.  Not that he was complaining, but it certainly wasn't the norm.  And he hoped they didn't think of him as something cute and fuzzy.

He hauled himself out of bed, reflecting that once again, he still felt exhausted.  He smirked to himself.  Damn, but it was a good exhaustion.  He stumbled to the shower.

* * *

Unnoticed, the computer console on Malcolm's desk blinked that he had four audio-visual messages waiting.

Message #1:  Hi, Malcolm.  You up for a movie tonight?  I'm not sure if there are explosions in this one, but maybe after, we something out.

Message #2:  Malcolm, you'd better not be workin' already.  You need to unbend and have some fun.  Why don't you swing on by for lunch?  We can even discuss weapons modifications and that report you're supposed to give me, if you want an excuse.  Although I'd think I was excuse enough.

Message #3:  Lieutenant, last night we neglected to discuss your exemplary performance during the alien boarding incident.  Please see me in my ready room at 09:00 hours.  I hope you're feeling happier this morning.

Message #4:  Lieutenant Reed, you mentioned last night that you were experiencing some musculo-skeletal aches. Please be so good as to stop by sickbay so that we can ascertain your physical state of health.

Rating: R (satire)
Pairings:  numerous
Spoilers: teensy one for Vox Sola, smaller one for Shuttlepod One, but they're really references, not spoilers 
Disclaimers: Not my characters
Feedback: yes, please

Summary:  Ever notice how Reed's got the slash vibes all over the place?  With everyone?   Seems like some people are sick of it just being about vibes...A slightly odd 'day in the life' story.

Notes: This supposed to be funny, but I don't know if it works. A silly bit of silliness.  Thanks to Kim for a read-through and suggestions, and also for laughing at the story!


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