#lieutenantmalcolmreed

Casper, though he’d died several years earlier in the film, was lonely and wanted a friend. Malcolm could relate to that very much. He too had once been a lonely youth, in search of a friend. He’d been a rather lonely adult, too, for that matter. At least until he’d found Trip. 

As the temporarily alive again Casper leaned in to press a sweet, innocent kiss to Kat’s lips, Malcolm swallowed hard past the lump in his throat and drew in a small, shuddered breath. Bloody emotions and heartwarming films from years past! He’d never even heard of the film until Trip told him about it, and then had scoffed at the idea of such a movie. 

Honestly, a ‘friendly ghost’? A ghost alone was hard enough to believe. But a friendly one befriending a living girl and her widowed father? Out witting two bumbling villains while three ‘wicked uncles’ have a change of heart? Absolute nonsense in Malcolm’s opinion.

Yet there he sat, staring at the screen, the bowl of popcorn he’d been sharing with Trip forgotten. Tears clinging to his eyelashes. How cruel a fate for young Casper! He’d been given a chance to have his wish come true, yet only for a scant hour? Perhaps not even a full hour! To be whole and solid again, to hug Kat and have what was no doubt his first kiss with her, only to turn back into a ghost once the clock struck 10. Surely Dr. Harvey would have taken Casper in if he’d been allowed to stay human! Why give him that small taste of life again only to rip it away from him? 

As the Ghostly Trio broke into an upbeat rendition of the theme song, and the credits began to roll, Malcolm rocked to the side as a shoulder nudged into his own. Glancing to his right with startled eyes, he stared at Trip for a moment before looking away. The teasing sparkle that shown in Trip’s eyes told him that his emotional reaction to a film he’d insisted he had no interest in seeing had been caught. 

“Thought you didn’t like ‘sappy, sentimental, nonsense’, Lieutenant,” teased Trip. 

The lean he always seemed to put on Malcolm’s rank never failing to both aggravate and endear the man to him all the more. He swiped at his eye as discreetly as possible before straightening up in his chair and moving to stand. 

“Childish fancy,” Malcolm muttered in reply, reaching to pick the bowl up off Trip’s lap. “I’m afraid I outgrew that a long time ago.”

“Uh-huh...” Trip folded his arms over his chest and followed Malcolm to the dish return. “Then how come I saw you leaning forward in your seat so many times?”

“Our chairs are hardly comfortable for extended periods of time. I was readjusting.”

“An’ that little gasp an’ ‘oh no’ when Kat’s father died?”

“I’m not completely heartless, Commander. Who would want to see a child orphaned?”

Trip leaned against the wall, arms still folded and a tiny, knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Guess you must’a j’st been restin’ your head on your fingertips when Casper put Dr. Harvey in the Lazarus machine, then? S’pose those tears at the end there were j’st, what? Allergies?”

Turning and squaring his shoulders, Malcolm gave a small nod. “As a matter of fact...” 

A laugh bubbled up out of Trip as he pushed himself off the wall and stepped in closer to Malcolm. “C’mon, Malcolm. Admit it, you got lost in the movie. Even without any explosions and for bein’ a kid’s film.”

Malcolm shook his head, refusing to give Trip the satisfaction of being right. Again. It was a sweet film, one that tugged on Malcolm’s heart more than he cared to admit to, that didn’t mean he had to let Trip know that. 

The room had cleared save for the two of them, and Malcolm was suddenly very aware of just how intently Trip was watching him. A shiver went through him as Trip’s teasing stare darkened into something different. Something deeper that had Malcolm swallowing past a lump in his throat and struggling not to shift uncomfortably. 

“Computer,” Trip called out, never taking his eyes off Malcolm. “Play Casper’s Lullaby.” 

As the gentle, hauntingly beautiful melody drifted out from the speakers, Malcolm felt his throat close off all the more. Damn you, Mistah Tuckah! He cursed to himself, swiping his tongue across his lips. Trip took another step closer, one eyebrow raised and a challenging look on his face as he held one hand out to Malcolm. 

“Trip...what--”

“C’mon, I’m a good dancer, too, y’know.”

Malcolm’s eyes darted around the room, pink flushing his face. Surely this wasn’t happening. Things like this didn’t happen to Malcolm. And his life was far from a sentimental, heartwarming tale. 

“Commander, I don’t think --”

“No thinkin’ involved, Lieutenant,” murmured Trip as he took hold of Malcolm’s hip, coaxing him in closer. “Ya think too much as it is. Don’t think fer a change.” 

Trip’s voice was soft and warm, his gentle Southern accent surrounded Malcolm, drawing him in as they swayed in time with the music. 

Another shiver went racing up Malcolm’s spine as warm breath ghosted over his ear. “C’mon, Mal. ‘S j’st us. Loosen up an’ dance with me. J’st this once.”

His heart fluttering, Malcolm sighed heavily. How was he suppose to deny such a heartfelt request? Forcing himself to relax, Malcolm slowly felt himself leaning into Trip’s body more, one arm draped around Trip’s neck, one hand resting above a heart that beat so tenderly. The last of his resolve fading away, like the magic that brought Casper back to life for that short amount of time, Malcolm turned his face into Trip’s neck and simply allowed himself to be moved along. 

The music played on as they swayed back and forth. It was hardly dancing, but Malcolm couldn’t bring himself to point that out. It wasn’t that important. His eyes gently fell shut and a soft, shy smile inched across his face as Trip’s lips brushed over his ear in a tender whisper. 

“Can I keep you?”

The question was sappy and sentimental, completely cliche’ and ridiculous, even for Trip. Malcolm loved him all the more for it. 

Smiling all the more, Malcolm opened his eyes and brushed a soft kiss just under Trip’s ear. Light glinting off a simple band on his finger as he answered back just as gently. 

“No way!” Zotheva throws a cushion at Archer, who blocks it deftly (old he may be, but his water polo reflexes are still sharp). “You did not marry aphthavan on accident!”

Archer laughs heartily. “Of all my stories, that’s the one you’re going to question? Not the one where I fought the Ushaan with him and won? Or when I turned into a lizard?”

“You did stuff like that all the time, Grandpa,” little Okshnova pipes up from Talla’s lap. “But we’ve seen the pictures of your bond ceremony with aphthavan!”

“That was the official ceremony, pavshri'za,” Archer says. Eva and Nova both gaze up at him, wide-eyed. Talla giggles and makes sure Nova doesn’t fall over in her eagerness. “Many, many years ago, we were trying to make first contact with a species, so we beamed down in disguise right into the middle of a festival! Wanting to fit in so as not to cause suspicion, we followed the lead of the aliens, and before we knew it they’d pronounced us married!” The girls erupt into laughter. “Apparently their culture was quite collective, and they liked to hold many weddings at a time so everyone could celebrate together.”

“As I remember it,” Shran interrupts, striding into the room from the kitchen and laying a kiss on Archer’s grey hair, “you aimed us right for that festival. Something about parties being the easiest way to get to know a society.”

“And I still believe that!”

They chat for a little longer, but then Talla stands, setting Nova down and gesturing to both her shei to hug their grandfathers. “Jon, thavan, we have to be going. The girls have school in the morning.”

“Bye!” Eva throws her arms around their necks and they each kiss a cheek. Nova hugs Shran, then runs around to the other side and hugs Archer. Talla leans down to kiss their foreheads.

“Get home safe!” Archer waves.

The door shuts behind their family, leaving the two alone in the quiet night. Shran tugs Archer’s face down and presses their foreheads gently together. “I would have married you that day, anyway.”

“T’Pol was ready to kill us for improper protocol.”

Shran kisses him with a smile. “She was right, as always.”

“Protocol doesn’t rule my heart.”

“Pinkskin, protocol never even ruled your command.”

Archer chuckles.