Anniversary

Author's note: This might be considered a sequel to "Mates: T'Pol's POV."

Thanks: My heartiest thanks to jT, my beta. As usual she has served me wonderfully. Any qualms or quibbles please direct them at me as I take full responsibility for content.

Disclaimer: Star Trek belongs to Paramount. Just having fun!

T’Pol stood in front of the full length, three-sided mirror in the bathroom. Trip had it installed so she could see herself from all sides. She didn't have to crane her neck to try seeing her back area.

She turned, looking critically at her figure. She had worked hard after Chip’s birth to regain her figure and muscle tone. Her stomach was flat, her legs trim, her bottom rounded and firm. Her breasts were still firm and high. Yes, she was in shape. Unfortunately she would not stay that way. She was three months pregnant with their second child, a girl. She wanted to look her best tonight for him.

She remembered the last few months of her pregnancy with Chip. She had waddled when she walked. Her back hurt, she was tired all of the time, and it had showed. Trip had told her that she never had looked so lovely. That had pleased her until she walked by a mirror. Though she took pride in her blossoming abdomen; she was less satisfied with her rounder face.

She looked at her feet. Thankfully we have shoes and boots. Feet were never attractive. The only ones who had seen hers bare were Trip and Phlox. The doctor didn't count. He never looked at her feet.

She wondered what was Trip’s favorite part of her. He said that all of her was his favorite. She knew better. He nibbled her ears when he came up behind her and put his arms around her waist. He patted her bottom when he passed her at times.

T’Pol didn't giggle, but gave a very good imitation of it. She remembered the first time she nursed Chip in the room next to the main Sickbay room. Chip had nursed and kicked his legs. He hit the breast he was not nursing on with his feet. Trip had said: "Don’t hurt your mother. She might cut off your meal ticket.”

T’Pol turned and turned again. She knew that men found her beautiful. They looked at her guardedly, undressing her with their eyes. She was amused that Trip got angry with Malcolm for glancing at her bottom.

T’Pol wondered what she would do if something happened to Trip and he died. Would she remarry? Would she take another man? No, the bond would prevent that. Not The Bond. That would be severed at his death. It was the bond around her heart that kept him in and prevented others from entering it. She would remain faithful to Trip even after death. The thought of another man caressing her in places that Trip and he alone had been allowed to touch revolted her. He would feel the same way if she died. They were joined forever. No one else could take his place in her heart or could command her body.

She remembered when he had at last won her. It was after Elizabeth’s interment in T’Pol’s family crypt. They had returned to her mother’s house. He tried to console her, but she was stiff and formal with him. He finally said, "T’Pol stop fighting us." (He did not say “me” but “us.”) “I love you , want you, need you," he continued. "You have to stop thinking of us as Vulcan and Human but as man and woman who love each other desperately, want to spend the rest of our lives together." That had caused her to think. Then he pulled her into his arms, and when he did that he pulled her out of the armor of her logic and into a stronger armor, the armor of their love. A burden lifted from her. The stress of fighting him, his love, her love for him all of the denal and rejection. Gone in an instant. She was loved and wanted.

Until then it had all been duty. Duty to her culture and traditions to her mother had caused her to marry Koss. Duty, always duty. Now he was offering her love to be taken and asking for love to be given. Nothing more. No duty. No obligation. He asked her to look into his eyes; she saw a deep bottomless well of love. She felt a peace and contentment she had never known then. He had fought for the both of them—him and her—because he knew what she had in her heart, but denied. She then said the words that he wanted to hear and she had wanted to say for so long: "I love you." He never knew how much it cost her to say those words the first time. Words that came easily to her lips now.

Trip was one of those rare Human males who believed the person inside was more important than the exterior. Once he had grown to know her, found he loved, wanted, needed her, she could have been covered in scales and it would have made no difference to him. And his love was invincible; it had lasted despite what she had done to him. She remembered this bitterly, the needless pain, hurt she had caused. But she wanted just to remember the happiness he had given her for years after she had surrendered her love to him and accepted his.

She remembered too when Hoshi had asked her why it had been Trip she was attracted to, why not Archer? He was Captain, famous, handsome.

She had considered. The issue had almost come up once, that time his dog was sick. She guessed in any romantic relationship with the Captain, she would be always secondary to him and his ambition. She would be a trophy. He was Captain of a Starship and she would be an ornament—taken out to be shown at times and then expected to step back into his shadow.

With Trip it was different. She was in the forefront always. With an honest question, he would invite her to display her intelligence while he beamed in pride. He bragged about her courage. He did allow her beauty to speak for itself and she knew that it pleased him. She would never take second place. He always wanted to be side by side with her.

T’Pol walked out of the bathroom to a drawer and pulled it open. She selected a pair of black lace panties and a white pair of lace panties. Tonight was going to be special. They would have dinner in their room to celebrate the anniversary of the first meeting: she had snubbed him while reporting to the Captain that she was on board for a few days as laison and observer. Trip still laughed about that. He had thought she was a nose-in-the-air superior Vulcan. He called it as their "Love at First Sight" anniversary.

Trip had started it as a joke right after they were married. He claimed that they should celebrate that first meeting as their "Love at First Sight anniversary," though they both felt the other should fall down a hole. Well, not a hole, but they certainly didn't cotton to one another right away. At first T’Pol was puzzled; it was illogical to celebrate something that had not happened. But Trip explained that they should have fallen in love at that first sight because it was very soon afterwards that he knew he had met the woman he would marry some day, or die trying. He suggested that she perhaps felt the same when she was so “pissed at him” for coming back pregnant when he fixed the engines on that ship. Or when she got so upset at Lianne on the ship that they thought was abandoned. T’Pol did not confirm these guesses, but understood what he meant about the joke anniversary.

She tried on the black panties. They didn't contrast well with her bronze skin. The white panties did. They set off her skin color vivedly. She had lace panties in other colors—blue, light green, even a pink pair, which she regretted buying as she never wore them. Not once. Trip's favorite was the white so that would be what she would have on when they at last prepared for bed.

T’Pol looked in her closet. What to wear? Trousers? Shirt? Uniform? No. At last she chose a long dress that hung to the tops of her shoes and was closed at the top by a dial, which when turned released the magnetic thread that held the dress closed. It would open and she could shrug it off. It had a collar with a slight trim. It clung to her body accenting each curve, outlined her breasts and bottom. Another of Trip's favorites. She only wore panties underneath. She did not need a brassier. Her breasts did not sag. She put on the dress, closed it, and turned the dial to lock the magnetic thread.

Her hair. Trip had asked her to grow it out, but she had kept the bowl cut so when she visited the Vulcan compound they would not be shocked. It didn't take long to brush it.

She had begun to use slight eye makeup and a lip gloss.

T’Pol walked to the table, checked it, and made sure the candles were lit. She wanted this evening to be just right. Trip would come home tired. He would want to shower, shave again, and change into comfortable clothes. A relaxing candlelight dinner would do him good.

Music? Should she put on background music or would unimpeded conversation be best? The music they could save till later when dinner was over and they were in his easy chair, her curled up in his lap, looking out of the viewport at the stars.

Was she forgetting anything? Chef had promised he would prepare prime rib for Trip with mashed potatoes and peas. Trip's favorite "soul" food. She would have a well-liked Vulcan dish.

Chip was staying the day and night with Hoshi, Malcom, and their son, who was a year younger than Chip.

T’Pol looked at everything, checked herself in the mirror. All good. Now the only thing needed was Trip.

The door chime rang. There was man at the door. "Padd for you," the man said, holding out a padd.

T’Pol took it, thanked the man, and closed the door. She turned on the padd. “Look under my diving helmet." No signature, none needed. She walked to the shelf where the helmet sat. She lifted it and saw a small padd lying there. She took it, turned it on, and read “This is a gift card worth one thousand kisses. Only twenty at a time can be used. Happy Anniversary, Trip.”

She heard a sound and turned to see Trip standing in the room. He had sneaked in silently.

He walked up to her and was going to lean over to kiss her. “Let me clean up before we neck a little. I was just crawling through access tubes. I don't want to get that lovely dress dirty.”

T’Pol pulled Trip’s face to hers and kissed him passionately. "I want to use some of my gift card," she said.

Finis