I like this challenge very much. I tried to write a story, but I was not really thrilled about it. Maybe because my head was more busy with finishing another story. Guess I find it hard to write a story, while still writing another. But I still like to post the story on this thread. It is just a little fic, not very complex, you can call it a "candy" fic.
And I want to thank
justTripn for her great help.
Thanks!
A date to remember Timeline: between Storm Front II and Home.
Malcolm walked through the empty corridors of Enterprise. The ship had been in drydock since they had arrived on Earth. The crew was on shore leave and most of them had gone to visit friends and family. A few had stayed on Enterprise for several assignments. The Expanse had taken a toll on everyone and the free time was most appreciated. When Malcolm passed the galley, he was surprised to hear some noices. Though Chef was gone as well, Malcolm clearly heard the running of water, the sound of plates clinking, and soft voices.
He entered the galley and like any other security officer, he scanned the room with one glance. In the only space available in the small galley, a dinertable was placed. A neat white tablecloth covered the table, and on the table, two candles provided light.
More notable were the two glasses of wine, standing next to each other. There was still some wine left in the glasses. The other source of light, besides the candles, was above the sink. In perfect harmony, a woman and a man were doing dishes. She rinsed the plates, the man took the plate from her with a towel in his hand. The bodies were only inches apart. The heads were bowed to each other, carrying on a conversation. They both seemed relaxed in each other’s presence and enjoying their talk. He recognized the two: Trip and T’pol. Trip had spent a good deal of his free time with T’pol latelty, after he unexpectendly returned from visiting his parents.
“Weren’t you invited? I’m sure Mal wouldn’t have minded you coming to his birthday party,” he heard Trip say.
“Which birthday party?” Malcolm asked, making the couple turn their heads and immediately move away from each other.
“Just your birthday, a couple years ago. I just told T’pol she should have come to join the party and enjoy the pineapple cake. She is part of the crew, so she didn’t need an invitation”.
“Of course, sub-commander”, he said to the Vulcan women. He had no idea what they were talking about.
He looked at the dishes, systematically ordered, and the way T’pol was accurately rinsing the pans. Some things never change, he thought: Vulcans are thorough even doing dishes.
He pointed to the dishwashers, underneath the sink.“By the way, the galley does have dish washers. I don’t think the chef would try to run the kitchen without it.”
“It is been currently out of order,” T’pol explained.
“And our chief engineer couldn’t fix it,” Malcolm teased his friend.
“The chief engineer is not on duty,” Trip responded, with a grin, leaning against the drawers beside the sink.
“And it is not economical to use a dishwasher for only two plates, cutlery, three pans, two dessert bowls, and two glasses,” T’pol said.
They are siding with each other again, he thought. As a security and Starfleet officer he had some strong reservations about their relationship, but as Trip’s friend, he was happy that the two seemed to be friends again.
A nanosecond of awkward silence came between them, but then Trip turned to T’pol and said “You know, we’re almost finished. Why don’t you go to your quarters and freshen up, while I finish?”
“I don’t mind helping . . ” she started, but Trip gestured that it was okay, so she stopped her work, saying “Thank you for the good meal and evening, Commander”. And with a nod—“Lieutenant Reed”—she started leaving.
Both men watched the elegant women leave the room. Trip took the wine glasses from the table and walked to the sink to clean them. Malcolm’s eye fell on the little bottle of chocolate sauce on the chest of drawers. Holding the bottle in his hands, he said half mocking, half seriously, “I can believe you have all this stuff for a great date, like candles, wine, good food and even chocolate, but you forgot the flowers. And don’t tell me even Vulcan women like chocolate.”
“It is not a date,” Trip protested. “I told her that homemade food was the best. It was a special occasion, so we made a meal together. We have to eat, you know.”
“Wine, candles, chocolate?” he continued fishing.
Trip didn’t bite. “I think there is a universal law that all women like chocolate, even Vulcan women. And chocolate is good for the brain, according to T’Pol.” His grin showed that he didn’t take the science officer’s remark very seriously.
“You two seem to be getting along again,” Malcolm said. Not long ago, their relationship had looked more strained.
“I got the feeling she was opening up before I left for my parents. And when I got back, you know, we ended up talking about my parents. She listened and told me how her mother and her also had difficulties talking after her father died”.
From the bit and pieces that Trip had told him, Trip’s parents were so locked up in their grieve, sort of blaming Starfleet for the Xindi attack, that Trip hadn’t felt much at home. It was hard on him. Malcolm was surprised to hear that a Vulcan—who was all business with the rest of the crew–would talk about family and very personal things.
“You talk a lot?”
“We have our moments,” Trip said with a smile.
“Well, it seems to do you both some good. T’Pol looked at bit down when you were gone. I am not so good at reading her like you, but it looked that way.”
Trips just answered his remark with an exulting smile.
“But that is only one side of the story: I am glad you seem to be friends again, but it looks to me like this is also very complicated. She is your senior officer and she is Vulcan. This could be very tricky.” He didn’t want to go into details concerning what he knew about their friendship, but he was sure Trip got his point.
“It’s not a trick, Mal, it’s a treat. Like you said, our friendship has been good for us.”
And it was unlikely that they would be so close again, Malcolm thought. He suspected that the sub-commander had more feelings for Trip then for any one else in the crew, but she also was professional enough not to take things any further. She maintained some distance, still called Trip “Commander.” And Trip was no fool either.
He decided to drop the matter and changed the subject. “I understand. By the way, talking about treats, what did you eat tonight? Vegetarian spaghetti?”
T’Pol walked down the corridor to her quarters. She was somewhat confused. She was a woman of routine, but today was full of surprises. Challenging, stimulating, different, like the man who thought them up. But at the end of the evening, Trip seemed to send her away. She couldn’t think of any reasons. She didn’t think he was embarrassed by their friendship. Not that she wouldn’t understand if he would have reacted that way. Their relationship seemed very illogical on first sight. Any Vulcan would advise against it.
But the more she came to know him, the more she saw the logic in two opposites combined, making each other strong. Together they were more then the sum of their parts. And that was one of the reasons she gave up fighting him. Their relationship wasn’t a trick to lose her indentity, but a treat for her, to find what she really wanted. But it was a different, more difficult path. Like the time she had chosen not to marry Koss, but stayed on Enterprise. She was raised with the idea that her own desires did not count, the needs of the many did. She remembered eating peacan pie and meditating on the fact that once she would take that road of chosing your own path, she would not be fully part of the Vulcan community. Just like she was never totally accepted by humans. Except for Trip.
When she entered her quarters, an unknown smell filled the room. On her table, was a small vase with one rose and a small plate with peacan pie. On top of the pie, a small white candle. And there was a card. She read it. She was surprised that he had chosen to place her presents in her quarters, so she could be alone when she found it. It was very thoughtfull.
In Vulcan society not much attention was giving to somebody’s birthday. She never had celebrated her birthday in her life. But still even if she would follow Vulcan customs and treated this day as any other, this was still a date to remember.
So she carefully placed the card on the table and read again:
For T’Pol.
Happy Birthday,
Trip.
Well, I DID write something about a full night of "intimacies", didn't I??? 
I just finished a little story for october word prompt. But I would like some one to have a look at the story, checking my English and let me know what you think.