Title: Opened Doors
Fandom: Star Trek Enterprise
Rating: PG
Length: 300
Content notes: None
Author notes: This is a set of three drabbles – snapshots of a developing relationship. The first takes place prior to the launch of Enterprise, the second during "Minefield" (Season 2), and the third is set a few years post-Season 4. All are Malcolm's voice. 
Summary: Three doorways. Three moments.

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Nervous, I stand outside the interview room at Starfleet Headquarters. The next few minutes could change my life.

A Tactical post on the Enterprise might appease my father’s very vocal disappointment about not following him into the Royal Navy. Or if not, it would put distance between us.

I thought I’d prepared well for this meeting. But all my answers to anticipated questions are of little use.

“Lieutenant Reed, I have absolutely no doubt of your qualifications. What I need to know is how you handle the unexpected. Can you give me an example?”

Without thinking I reply, “You, sir.”

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Apprehensive, I press the doorchime outside the Captain’s dining room. Straightening my collar feels like a way to make sorting my thoughts tangible.

I don’t know what he wants of me. Surely any reprimand would be delivered in his ready room, not over breakfast. I clutch a PADD with my suggestions for improvements to the armoury, thinking this might be a chance to share them.

My breath quickens as the door slides open. He’s smiling at me.

Once again, Jonathan Archer catches me off-guard. He barely glances at my proposed three shift rotation schedules.

“Let’s talk about you – any hobbies?”

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Silent, I stand in the bedroom doorway watching Jonathan sleep. It’s late… my shuttle was delayed.

Even knowing that I might not make it home tonight, he is occupying only his side of the bed… except for an outstretched arm. His hand rests exactly where it would be if it were wrapped around my waist.

My need to fill that space overwhelms the reluctance to wake him. Slipping into bed beside him, my head finds its place on his shoulder as Jonathan opens his eyes.

“It’s you, Malcolm!”

My words are lost in his kiss. “No, it’s always been you.”

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