Title: Just for You
Fandom: Star Trek Enterprise
Rating: PG
Length: 1066
Content notes: None
Author notes: This takes place on Enterprise sometime post-Season 4. It makes reference to events of "Judgment", "Detained" and "North Star". Jonathan and Malcolm have an established relationship and this is Jonathan's voice.
Summary: Malcolm is full of surprises.

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"Have you decided what you'll wear for the Halloween party that Chef is planning?"

From the look on Malcolm's face, I'm expecting one of two things. Either he will tell me he has a duty shift and won't be able to attend or he'll be bluntly honest and tell me he hates costume parties.

But I should never assume anything where Malcolm is concerned.

"Yes, I've got it figured. But I'm still working out the details."

I wait for him to continue, but he returns his attention to his PADD, where he's working out torpedo trajectories for the weapons upgrades he's been planning.

"You aren't going to tell me about it?"

He lifts his head and gives me one of those priceless Reed smirks. "No. I thought the whole idea of a masquerade was to keep people guessing. I doubt you'll have any trouble recognizing me, but I thought the anticipation might be fun for you."

It's time to reconsider the rest of this conversation. I was going to tell him about what I planned to wear... if he needed ideas maybe we could coordinate. But it seems I should keep my costume a secret too.

That doesn't stop me from speculating though. "I heard Quartermaster talking about the flood of requests for old away-mission disguises. I was considering talking to him about it myself."

My partner puts aside his PADD and laughs. "Not a lot of good choices for me there, Jonathan. That Suliban disguise was the most goddamn itchy thing I've ever worn. My skin crawled for a week after that mission." He pauses, thinking back to other occasions. "I did rather fancy the black hooded cloak I wore to spring you from that di-lithium mine on Rura Penthe... gave me a deeply mysterious look I would imagine."

I reach for his hand, squeezing it tightly. "I recognized you from the way you approached. No Klingon moves like a cat. But I wouldn't object to seeing you in that again... I seem to recall a brilliant smile as you threw back the hood to greet me and Kolos." I don't need to remind him that we ended that mission in my quarters, in my bed together for the first time.

He reaches up to touch my cheek, drawing me closer for a kiss. "I wasn't trying to disguise myself from you. But no, that's not it. You'll just have to wait and see. You won't be disappointed."

It's my turn to kiss him, and we let it linger before I murmur against his lips. "I never have been."

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It seems that Enterprise has a very imaginative crew. And Quartermaster has outdone himself – he must have an amazing supply room. There are a few Klingons in full masks and armor, and at least one Orion slave girl. But not everyone is dressed exotically – several crewmembers have apparently swapped uniforms, making a few modifications to the rank insignia. I spot at least three captains and two chief engineers. And is that Soval? He's lost a few inches but his Vulcan hauteur is intact. Based on the convincing way he's speaking Vulcan, I'm guessing it's Hoshi, since I know T'Pol declared that she had assigned herself to Bridge duty tonight.

I keep scanning the room for any sign of Malcolm. There's Trip looking like a resident of Margaritaville, complete with flip-flops. Jimmy Buffett would be proud of him. I doubt Quartermaster had that shirt... it must be one of his own.

Then the mess hall door slides open to admit another partygoer, this one dressed in full western wear. All in black, from stacked-heel cowboy boots to a classic felt Stetson hat, he cases the room before moving at a deliberate pace directly toward the bar where I'm nursing a drink. Heels clicking on the deck, he walks like he just hitched a horse outside – I didn't even know Malcolm ever rode horses. He's wearing a sheriff's badge and a gun belt rides low on his slim hips. I know immediately that this isn't someone I could ever outdraw.

Damn he looks good. And now that I think of it, I shouldn't be surprised. I remember Malcolm being disappointed that he didn't get to accompany Trip, T'Pol and me on our initial reconnaissance visit to the North Star colony. He'd joined us there of course, but arrived later by shuttlecraft, in uniform, just in time for the firefight.

He signals Chef, serving as barkeep, for a drink and moves to stand close to me.

"I heard there was a stranger in town and thought it best to investigate." The slight incongruity of an old west lawman with a British accent is lost in the overall effectiveness of his look and bearing.

I tip my hat to him, not missing the way his eyes travel slowly from head to toe, assessing me. Wanting to maintain the mood he's setting, I try not to smile, but I'm delighted that he and I both had the same idea for costuming. I've never forgotten the way he looked at me when I dressed for North Star, and that same look is in his eyes again. And is the stern lawman actually running his tongue over his lips? He always loved the leather duster.

"Glad you did, Sheriff. Join me for a drink? You'll find I'm not here to cause any trouble."

Malcolm's smile breaks character, as does his reply. "You're always causing trouble, Jonathan, or at least always finding it. Someone has to protect you. I'll take the job."

"It's always been your job, Malcolm. And my compliments to your costumer. You look amazing... and very authentic."

"I just told Quartermaster that I wanted a North Star outfit something like what you wore there. He set me right up... said he had one on hand in case it was needed then. He seemed happy to finally see it worn."

I push my glass across the bar for a refill. It's not real bourbon, but that doesn't matter. So I'm surprised when Chef replaces the shot glass with a bottle of beer, passing one to Malcolm as well. "It's on the house, gentlemen. One round only."

Nodding my thanks, I raise the bottle in a toast to Malcolm. "To a long night of costumes and role-play."

His smirk was back as he clinked his bottle against mine.

"You won't be disappointed."
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