Self-Preservation and Popcorn

Disclaimer: I’m a poor fan girl who can barely afford dial-up, so obviously I don’t own Trip, T’Pol or Enterprise. I also don’t own any movies referenced here or the quotes from them. So please don’t sue me for playing with them
Summary: Just a small movie-night fic
Rating: PG
Can be archived.
Note: The ice rink from Figure NX-01 needs to close for the summer, so this fic is probably the last in my skating series (Figure NX-01, On Toepicks and Hip Checks, and this one). My OCs from here will continue on in future fics, though. Maybe.

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“I do not believe that Ensign Callahan’s clothing was entirely appropriate for instruction,” T’Pol commented as she walked alongside Trip Tucker.

Trip gave an exasperated sigh. “It was a skating skirt, T’Pol. A lot of women wear those on Earth.” They had reached his quarters and he paused to toss his skates and jacket through the doorway as it opened. “I have to admit, it was pretty creative of her to make one out of her workout tee, though.” Trip then took T’Pol’s skates from her and threw them into the quarters as well, before the doors shut. “C’mon, let’s get to the mess hall. Movie night’s about to start”

T’Pol shook her head as she continued down the corridor and returned to the original conversation. “The length of that… skirt… was severely insufficient. Her male students were more focused on her legs than on the lesson.” She turned to focus her gaze on him. “I noticed that you were not entirely immune to her charms, either.”

“She was teaching crossovers! I had to watch her legs if I wanted to learn!” He ran a hand through his hair and rolled his eyes before adding, “I think you’re jealous.”

She stopped walking and stared at him, relieved that they were the only ones in the corridor. “Of Ensign Callahan? That is a highly illogical statement.”

Trip chuckled at her expression. “Logical or not, that’s how it looks to me. Hell, if it makes you feel any better, she’s dating Ensign Hudry, and as I recall, Phlox and I-- and even you-- helped get those two together. So you can lock away that green-eyed monster.”

“I am not jealous,” T’Pol said firmly, recognizing the human expression ‘green-eyed monster’ and choosing to ignore it. She continued walking and didn’t turn to meet his gaze. “Even so, I believe that I would prefer us continue in Corporal Santos’ classes. There will be less chance for distraction under his tutelage.”

“Or,” Trip said, craning his neck theatrically to stare at T’Pol’s behind, “we could get the Quartermaster to whip one of those skirts up for you, too. Now that’s something I wouldn’t mind seeing.”

She cast him a disdainful look, but he could feel faint amusement through their bond. With a tolerant look, she tried to change the subject. “So, what is the film that you have selected for tonight?”

Trip considered pressing on with the original conversation, but then changed his mind—it could hold until later. “It’s a late twentieth century film about ice skating.”

“Another Mighty Ducks?” She asked, and Trip could almost detect a hopeful tone in her voice. “I find these films about juvenile humans engaged in a violent sport oddly intriguing.”

He laughed. “Nope, this one was based really loosely off of Shakespeare’s Taming of the Shrew. I think you’ll like it.” With those words, he gestured her into the mess hall. “Popcorn?”

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“Human women will willingly let themselves be lifted and thrown in that manner by a male balancing on ice in a pair of thin metal blades?” T’Pol asked with the slightest bit of incredulity in her tone. The film had just begun and she was already asking questions.

Trip chuckled. “Yup. It’s called pairs skating.”

“The lack of self-preservation instinct in humans will never cease to amaze me.”

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Turning towards T’Pol as the film credits rolled and the mess hall emptied out, Trip couldn’t help but grin at the mild confusion that seemed to settle on her features. “Well, what did you think?”

“They did not show the results of the competition.” T’Pol answered, schooling her face back into a mild mask.

“Well,” he said, getting up and shaking loose popcorn off of his lap, “you’re supposed to assume that they won the gold medal.”

She narrowed her eyes. “But they performed an illegal move. At least, that is what we are led to believe.”

“’Legano, ni legano’…” Trip quoted from the film in a Russian mixed with southern accent. “It doesn’t have to be realistic, ya know, it’s just a movie.”

“What I did not understand is that, to prove her love, Kate randomly decided to change their program and ask Doug to perform a potentially dangerous and illegal move seconds before their competition? It does not seem like behavior that one would expect from elite athletes.”

He escorted her towards the mess hall doors, shaking his head the entire time. “It added to the drama of the moment. Doing that throw was like proving that she trusted him entirely.”

T’Pol snorted. “Indeed. He could have easily broken her neck. And this was considered a sport?”

“Still is, apparently. Guess we never learn. But, anyway, didn’t you like any of the movie?” He asked, with a frown.

A small twinkle came into her eyes. “I did find the scenes where he is learning to use figure skates quite relevant to our current experiences on the ice.”

He rubbed his hand across his mouth to hide his smile. “Yeah… seeing someone fall on their ass over and over again can be a lot of fun.”

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“So then, Mike said--” Sonya Callahan giggled, forcing her to pause, “Commander Tucker did this face-plant on the ice and Commander T’Pol skated up to him and, in a completely serious voice, said, ‘Toepick.’”

Sebastien Hudry gave a half-laugh, half-cough as he nearly choked on his coffee. “So, then what happened?”

Sonya’s brown eyes twinkled. “So, then Commander Tucker rolled over and went, ‘that’s only for figure skates, T’Pol.’ And she, still serious, just said, ‘I see. I was under the impression that ‘toepick’ was what one said when a skater falls. Are you injured?’” She started laughing again, but between chuckles got out, “I would have given my right arm to have seen that.”

Bastien wiped the tears from his eyes and composed himself to the best of his ability. “Why aren’t they in your class anymore?”

She twirled her coffee mug and frowned. “Oh, Commander Tucker just said that it felt funny taking lessons from one of his direct reports, but I think that Commander T’Pol just didn’t like my teaching style. She just kept glaring at me all class long….” Sonya bit her lip. “Well, if Vulcans glare, that is.” With a shrug, she stood and tugged at her skating skirt. “Too bad. Would have been nice to say that I taught a Vulcan how to skate.”

Bastien eyed her short-skirt covered bottom and grinned. “That is okay. You’ll always have me in class if you promise to keep wearing that outfit.”

“Eyes up, Ensign,” she said with a grin, before sauntering out of the mess hall coquettishly, turning slightly to wink at him.

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Out of the corner of her eye, T’Pol noticed Ensign Callahan slinking out of the mess hall in an overtly sexual manner, and pursed her lips. It had certainly been a good choice to convince Trip to switch their skating class, regardless of how much he had protested. She was not concerned when Ensign Callahan was on duty, in full uniform, only when the ensign was attired for skating.

One simply could not trust a human female in minimal clothing. That philosophy was T’Pol’s form of self-preservation.