Hello there, and welcome to
It’s been several weeks since I made it here. From the time my husband was diagnosed with metastatic pancreatic cancer on November 13, life became more and more about his illness and impending death, and all the millions of details that needed tending.
I’d like to say we had everything done when he died on January 12 – but I would be lying. In many ways, I will be digging us out and flying by the seat of my pants for quite some time to come, it seems.
But it’s been more than a week since Jim’s death, and I do have a better handle on where we are and what comes next, at least in the short term. I’ve found that returning to some of my former routines helps, and so here I am, in the later part of Saturday, to share my first #SoCS post of a trying new year. This week’s prompt was to use a word that begins with the letters “oc” – with bonus points for starting and ending with appropriate words.
As always, the standard disclaimer applies. I don’t own the characters in my fanfiction, and I earn no money for these stories. Simply a gift of love…
A Gift From the Ocean
“Oc -a -tee- oh?” Trip wiped away the delighted smile; his companion had been touchy just lately, and he’d come here to try to get on her good side…
Or into her bed, if she’d even consider that.
Probably wasn’t very logical.
T’Pol made some tiny shift in the muscles of her face, and let out her breath a hair too fast and forcefully. Sure signs of Vulcan impatience; he’d let himself get distracted by her.
“Ocotillo,” he told her, making his voice distinct and a touch slower than normal, without making any comment at all about the way she’d butchered the word. “It’s got other names – Flaming Sword, for one. I kind of like that, but I’ll bet you’d rather call it candlewood.”
“That nomenclature is illogical.” But she was stroking one of the flowers very gently, so maybe there was room in there somewhere for human fancies. She popped the bubble with her next words, though. “What is its genus species identification?”
“Fouquieria splendens.” He had a feeling that he’d made as big a mess of the Latin as she had the Spanish. But T’Pol had better manners than to point it out. She simply nodded, and Trip settled in on her bench, where he could watch the rare show of T’Pol enjoying the plant – as a scientist and a woman, at the same time.
He smiled when she set the pot down on her little meditation table. “Thank you,” she said simply.
“I thought you might like it. It’s one of your colors, after all, and it’s a desert plant, after all.” He didn’t mention that it was also both lovely and prickly, kind of like a Vulcan scientist. He wasn’t sure how she would take that.
“Take off your shirt. You arrived late, and nearly three minutes has been wasted in this discussion.”
He could be disappointed in how short-lived her interest was, but these neuropressure sessions with her were the high point of his day. She warmed her hands, and he stripped out of his shirt, shivering just a bit at the spicy-smoky scent in the air and the thought of her amazing fingers on his bare skin…
Was it just his imagination that she looked forward to it, too? That her fingers trembled just the tiniest bit when she touched him? She had started letting him try out what she showed him on her, and, when he did, he thought her body quivered, too, low and deep inside her.
Did all that add up to attraction? Or desire?
He just didn’t know.
But, as T’Pol’s fingers played a symphony with his nerves, and Trip relaxed more and more into the touch, and her quiet candlelit nest, he noticed that she kept pausing to look over at the little potted ocotillo plant, and her touch would feather across his skin for a second, before she settled back into the familiar pressure.
Trip Tucker was an engineer. He didn’t know yet what all that meant, but he knew it wasn’t just business, and he was willing to bet it meant that she liked the gift he’d brought her – the same way she’d liked the peaches he brought her last week. But was it the gifts – or the person bringing them? Did he mean anything to her, besides being a colleague in need of her assistance?
Well, he was an engineer, and he could find out. She liked the taste of peaches; maybe they reminded her of Vulcan fruit. She liked the octotillo, but that was a desert plant.
Next time, he was going to bring her something she couldn’t mistake for being from home. He was going to bring her a gift from the ocean.