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Meeting Trip’s parents had gone far better than Malcolm had expected, even with Trip’s assurances that they’d be welcoming. Having spent the best part of a day telling the older couple how they’d fallen for each other over the course of their friendship, he’d then asked for their blessing regarding his intentions to propose, and they’d responded very positively - so positively in fact that Malcolm now intended to keep in touch with them independently of Trip. His relationship with his own parents had been strained for many years - his father often cruel, his mother seemingly indifferent - but a recent letter from his sister had started him wondering whether that was a defence mechanism on his mother’s part. The news that his parents were divorcing had come as a shock - and the fact that his mother was the one to instigate it even more so. Madeline had written to let him know that she and Mary were now sharing a cottage in Eastbourne - Mother having insisted on the sunniest place in England after having spent so many years living in Malaysia. So it was that he found himself in the curious position of replying to Madeline and addressing his mother, uncertain whether to tell them before or after the proposal… and trying to decide exactly how to propose.
Trip paced the short length of his quarters muttering to himself. “Mal, you know I love you… no that sounds like I’m about to break up with him. Mal, there’s something you should know… no that’s even worse. What the hell, Tucker?”
With sudden realisation and a quiet “oh!” he grabbed a PADD and rushed from his quarters, making his way to the arboretum and bringing up the guide to Victorian flower language as he went. Once there he found a pair of secateurs and walked around, looking at what flowers were in bloom. Carefully, he selected japonica camellias, tulips, and roses - one of each in both red and white - in addition to a single yellow jonquil. He then returned the secateurs to their shelf and made his way back to his quarters. Laying the blooms carefully on his desk, he pulled out his flower press. With fresh paper and carefully positioned card stock, Trip set the flowers neatly in place before tightening the wingnuts. The bulkier flowers would take a couple of weeks to dry properly, but he knew it’d be worth the effort. And then the real work could begin.
They’d fallen into a habit of spending at least an hour after dinner separately - whether in their own quarters or with other friends aboard Enterprise - before spending the rest of the evening together. It gave them an opportunity to continue pursuing their own interests and maintain other relationships, and it seemed to be working quite well. And so it was that Trip had just put his flower press away when the door chime rang.
“Come in!” he called.
Malcolm entered, smiling. “Hello, you,” he said, letting out a happy sigh.
“Hey there, darlin’,” Trip said with a grin. “Long time no see.”
“Yes, it’s been, what, ninety minutes since we left the mess hall?” Malcolm teased.
Putting his arms around his partner, Trip smiled. “Ninety minutes is a long time to a mayfly.”
Malcolm chuckled. “I suppose it is. Thankfully neither of us are so short-lived.”
Scrunching his forehead and catching his tongue between his teeth as he made the calculation in his head, Trip then grinned and said, “that’d be like two and a half years to us.”
Shaking his head as he laughed, Malcolm wound his arms around Trip. “A very long time indeed. Now, are you going to do more sums in that pretty head of yours, or are you going to kiss me?”
“I could do both,” Trip said, smirking.
“Not if you’re doing a proper job of kissing me you can’t,” Malcolm retorted, then closed the small distance between them.
Trip spent time each day over the course of the following fortnight checking on the flowers, changing the paper and adjusting card stock as needed, until at last he was satisfied that they were properly dried and ready for display. Arranging them on a sky blue backing board, he added strips of artfully cut green paper, as though the flowers were growing in a meadow of soft grass. Adding the matching blue matting to surround the dried blooms, he carefully lowered the frame over the completed work before cautiously turning it over to insert the back and close the latches, fixing it in place. Turning it face-up once more, he nodded to himself and let out a nervous breath. Packing the frame back into the box it had arrived in to maintain the surprise, Trip then set about tidying everything away.
Malcolm was pacing the largest observation lounge, his quarters having felt too much like a cage.
“Just ask him, you idiot,” he muttered to himself, not realising he had company.
“Everything alright?” Travis asked.
Startled, Malcolm spun to look at the helmsman. “How long have you been standing there?” he asked.
Travis smiled. “Only a few seconds. I was walking past and noticed you seemed agitated.”
Malcolm let out a mirthless chuckle. “Yes, I suppose ‘agitated’ is a good word for it. To answer your question - I don’t know.”
“Anything I can help with?” Travis asked.
“Not unless you’ve got any ideas on how to make a marriage proposal without sounding like an idiot,” Malcolm said, then sighed. “I’m sorry, that was rude of me.”
Travis stepped further into the lounge, and gave Malcolm a reassuring smile. “I would say it’s a safe assumption that it’s Trip you’re planning on proposing to?”
Malcolm nodded. “I certainly wasn’t planning on asking Porthos.”
Chuckling, Travis said, “I think you gave yourself good advice - just ask him. You must have some idea he’d say yes, if it’s got you this wound up.”
“You’re right. Thank you,” Malcolm said, taking deep breaths to steady himself.
“Good luck!” Travis said, heading off again.
Arriving at Trip’s door, Malcolm steeled himself, then pressed the door chime.
“Come in!” Trip called, and he entered.
“Hey darlin’!” the engineer said with a broad smile.
Malcolm returned it with a far more nervous smile of his own, licked his lips, and said, “hi,” very softly.
“You alright?” Trip asked, concerned.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Malcolm answered, sounding very not fine.
Pulling him into an embrace, Trip kissed Malcolm’s forehead. “You know you’re a terrible liar, don’t you?”
Malcolm scoffed. “I’ll have you know I’m an excellent liar, when the occasion calls for it.”
Trip smiled, then kissed Malcolm’s forehead again. “Uh huh. When it’s a tactical advantage protecting the ship or the crew, you could probably convince the Klingons that you’re best friends with their chancellor. But telling me you’re fine when you’re not just ain’t gonna fly. What’s wrong?”
Sighing, Malcolm shook his head. “Nothing’s wrong exactly, I just... When I find the right words, I promise you’ll know what this is about.”
Nodding, Trip said, “alright, I can let it drop for now. You let me know if I can help though, alright?”
Malcolm smiled. “Maybe if you kiss me it’ll kick-start the right part of my brain.”
Trip grinned. “More than happy to test that theory,” he said, then put the idea into practice.
When the kiss broke, Trip guided Malcolm to sit on the sofa, then collected the frame in its box and sat beside him.
“What’s this?” Malcolm asked.
“Open it and see,” Trip said softly. “Just be careful, it’s fragile.”
Opening the box over his lap, Malcolm slid the frame from it, then stood the box beside the sofa, looking at its contents. On the matting surrounding the flowers, Trip had carefully written ‘Mal and Trip’ at the top, and the date at the bottom.
Looking from the frame to Trip, Malcolm asked, “what’s the significance of today’s date?”
Trip smiled, resting his hands over Malcolm’s where they held the frame. “It’s the day I’m asking you to marry me. Will you, please?”
Bursting into both tears and laughter simultaneously, Malcolm shook his head in disbelief, looking back and forth between the frame and Trip several times.
“That’s not quite the reaction I was hoping for,” Trip said, sounding hurt.
Malcolm sniffled, licked the tears from his lips, and said, “that’s what I was wanting to ask you.”
Trip’s eyes went wide as he asked, “you were gonna ask me to marry you?”
Nodding, Malcolm swallowed the lump in his throat, and said, “I asked your parents for their blessing when we visited, and I’ve been trying to find the words ever since. And now you’ve beaten me to it - with this beautiful arrangement of pressed flowers, no less.”
Trip smiled, looking pleased. “Is that a ‘yes’ then?”
Malcolm chuckled, and nodded. “Of course that’s a ‘yes’ - I’d be thrilled to marry you.”
“Well then, you better put that down for a minute so I can kiss you,” Trip said, grinning.
Standing to put the frame on the desk, Malcolm sat on Trip’s lap when he returned to the sofa.
“I love you,” he said softly, then kissed Trip.
“I love you too,” Trip replied, several minutes later.
Arms around each other and foreheads pressed together, Malcolm asked, “so what meaning do the flowers hold?”
Trip smiled. “White japonica camellias represent perfected loveliness, the red is for unpretending excellence. Red tulips are a declaration of love, while the white are renewal and eternal devotion. Red and white roses together represent unity and reward of virtue, while separately the red is love and the white is ‘I am worthy of you’. And jonquil means ‘I desire a return of affection’ - which seemed fitting alongside the others, given the reason for the bouquet.”
“A lot of meaning in seven flowers,” Malcolm said, echoing Trip’s comment about the irises from their first date.
Trip kissed Malcolm again then, both of them smiling when it ended.
“Do you want to consummate the engagement?” Malcolm asked, his lips skimming over Trip’s jaw.
“You bet I do,” Trip answered, tilting his head back as Malcolm kissed his way down his neck.
Pausing to stand, Malcolm tugged Trip to his feet, then divested them both of clothing in between laying more kisses to Trip’s neck and chest. Trip then rested a hand lightly under Malcolm’s jaw, angling his head up so that he could kiss his lips again as his other hand drifted over a finely muscled arm, chest, and back. Taking their time, they made love with a gentleness that would have surprised those who didn’t know them particularly well, but was in fact a fairly common occurrence.
Afterwards, they lay cocooned in Trip’s bed, the soft blanket around them, and Malcolm smiled drowsily. “Yay,” he said softly.
“What are we cheering?” Trip asked.
“I’m getting married,” Malcolm answered.
Trip chuckled. “You are. I’m glad you consider that something to cheer about.”
Nodding, Malcolm continued. “Getting married doesn’t just mean getting to spend my life with you - though that is certainly something to celebrate. It also means I can take your last name, and there won’t be another generation of Reed men - not even if we adopt a dozen children.”
“For the record, I don’t want a dozen children,” Trip said lightly. “But you’re more than welcome to share my surname, if you want.”
Malcolm bit his lip for a moment and said, “your father told me that he’d be honoured to call me his son, when the time comes. Within a day of having met me, he made me feel more welcome than my own father has in my entire life.”
“Aw Mal,” Trip said, kissing him on the cheek. “My Daddy has always set the example of how I love, so it doesn’t surprise me that he said that.”
Smiling, Malcolm kissed Trip again. “I got that impression, yes. I’m looking forward to becoming a Tucker.”
“That makes two of us,” Trip said.