Here is a silly humour story, just for a change from all the angst.

I used this sign -- to indicate hiccupping. I had a much better one, but sadly it gets cancelled when I submit my document.

Thank you to SitaZ and RoaringMice, for their fine beta reading.

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Malcolm had a feeling the day was going to be a 'lovely' one the moment he was woken up by a page, instead of his alarm clock...

"Ensign Sato to Lieutenant Reed..."

…although he had to admit that waking up to the sound of Hoshi's gently probing voice certainly beat the ghastly blare of his...

…'Probing'? Blimey!

His eyes flashed open and landed on the clock, painstakingly placed in the direct path of his sight when lying in bed in his favourite position.

He jumped out of his skin and bed, and hurled himself onto the comm. link.

"Reed." Good grief, a frog with laryngitis.

"Lieutenant," Hoshi's voice floated back. "Is everything all right? You should've been on the bridge fifteen minutes ago..."

He cleared his throat. "Uhm, no… yes! Overslept, be there in a jiffy, Reed out."

Right. Late. Bloody late. Priorities.

Shower? Negative. Rely on T'Pol's nasal stuff and a fresh uniform.

He grabbed his black shirt and thrust his arms into the sleeves.

He moved towards the loo hopping into the first leg of his jumpsuit; dragging the rest of it along he entered the small bathroom, reviewing in his mind what parts of his daily ablutions he could absolutely not forego.

Shave. Definitely. Honour of the Reeds, officer-at-his-best… Letting go of his uniform he reached for the shaving cream and razor – old style was still the best – and got rid of his facial hair in record time, inflicting himself more cuts than if he had duelled to the death with Shran. Cursing, he grabbed the stick to cauterize them. One nasty little cut just below his left ear wouldn't stop bleeding so he temporarily stuck a tiny piece of toilet paper on it.

Hair. … Always well-groomed, blah, blah. He got the comb and raked his hair into an acceptable shape with one hand while with the other he battled with the buttons of his black shirt.

Teeth? Uhm, won't smile. Not difficult.

He hopped into the second leg of his uniform – risking beginning his day in sickbay with a concussion – and, pulling on the sleeves of said garment, he zipped it up in one resolute move and glanced at himself in the mirror, pretending to like what he saw. Well, Trip had showed up enough times on the bridge looking like a chimney-sweeper from Mary Poppins; this was more than acceptable, he reassured himself even as his face twisted in a grimace of disgust.

He was about to sprint out of his quarters when a cavernous grumble erupted from his stomach.

Breakfast… The grimace turned into one of annoyance. Damn, he hated to start the day without breakfast. Take anything away from him, sleep, coffee, tea, lunch, movie night, explosions, well… delete that, but not breakfast; his body just required a hearty breakfast in the morning. British style.

Serves you right, you nitwit, he scolded himself, next time you'll go to sleep at a decent time instead of racking your brain till the wee hours on your brilliant may-never-work ideas.

As he rushed by the desk on his way to the door his eyes fell on a few left-over biscuits from the night before, and he grabbed them without stopping, stuffing two into his mouth. Bloody hell, they are dry! He took a couple of fast steps backwards, reached for the half-empty cup of cold coffee and, wincing at the thought of drinking the stale liquid, took a sip to help push the lump down his throat. Good heavens! What have they turned into, quick cement? He replaced the other biscuits on the plate and, cringing, took another, bigger gulp of the awful fluid, swallowing hard. Returning the cup to his desk he rushed out of the door, checking his watch.

Just over five minutes, got to be my personal rec --

Oh -- damn!

Fan -- bloody -- tastic!

As if his day weren't complete – hiccups.

"Ah, Lieutenant Reed. I take it you had a good rest?" Captain Archer subtly asked, swivelling in his chair at the sound of the turbo-lift door opening.

He schooled his features perfectly straight, hoping his eyes would not betray the amusement he felt. Teasing Reed was one of the pleasures of life aboard Enterprise, he had to agree with Trip. He just couldn't forego this rare opportunity when the perfect Lieutenant was proving to be human and flawed like the rest of them.

"Uhm yes, Sir," Reed answered snapping to attention a couple of steps inside the bridge.

Archer saw T'Pol's nose twitch and Reed's eyes shift uncomfortably to her for a brief moment.

"I apo--logise for reporting late for duty, Captain," Malcolm added, instantly turning an interesting shade of cardinal red at the hic that escaped him. "I seem to not have hea-- heard the alarm clock."

The entire bridge crew stopped working and turned as one to the hiccupping man, who briefly shifted his gaze to the floor before returning it to his captain.

Feeling his mouth perilously close to curving into a smile Archer clenched his jaw, belatedly realising what his lieutenant would make of that. Reed became petrified. He turned his eyes straight ahead and… The Captain frowned. Was Malcolm holding his breath? I know the man likes explosions but… Looking more closely at this less-than-pristine version of his Armoury Officer, Archer squinted as he tried to identify something that had caught his attention: was that toilet paper stuck near Malcolm's left ear?

With a Herculean effort Archer stifled a chuckle and, taking pity on the tense officer before him, nodded and said, "You may take your station, Lieutenant."

Reed actually deflated without noise, an impressive feat after holding your breath for so long. As the lieutenant moved to gain his console, Archer unobtrusively looked around at the rest of the bridge crew. He loved to notice the subtle forms of communication that went on between them. By now he was quite attuned to them. He saw T'Pol's nose twitch again as she turned to her console, and Hoshi exchange a furtive glance with Travis; you just had to watch Hoshi's mouth and Travis's eyes to know what they were thinking.

Reed sat down and immediately became absorbed in his job – that is, as absorbed as Trip's nearby presence allowed him to be. The engineer, present for one of his rare bridge duty appearances, was like an open book, and Archer could tell that Trip thought that Malcolm was in for some nasty teasing. Strange that Trip hasn't actually ribbed him yet.

Pretending to read a padd, the Captain turned slightly in his chair and unobtrusively studied the pair of them. Trip deliberately let his stare linger on his friend until Malcolm felt he could no longer ignore it and met it with an exasperated glare. Rancorous-Reed eyes glowered at twinkling-Tucker ones; a wry smirk briefly duelled with a mocking smile; a deep scowl triggered a pair of blond eyebrows to rise. Archer cleared his throat and grinned inwardly when both heads immediately jerked back to the work in front of them.

The bridge was silent, save for the odd beep of instruments and regularly-spaced choked sounds coming from tactical, but the air was charged with unreleased tension. At least for once it was a 'holding-my-laugh' sort of tension, Archer consoled himself.

Twenty minutes later the Armoury Officer was still jerking under the force of his hiccups, and if it went on for much longer Archer felt quite sure it would end up damaging his peripheral vision for good; he had a duty to take action in order to preserve it. Perhaps he should send Reed to sickbay. Then he noticed that Trip's grin was back with a vengeance, and a nagging suspicion crawled and burrowed itself into his grey matter. Perhaps, actually, he should have a private word with Malcolm.

"Lieutenant." He got up from his chair and made for the ready room.

Out of the corner of his eye Archer could see the familiar sight of Malcolm tilting his head to one side and easing himself out of his seat, his usual fluid movements marred by the umpteenth jolt. Reed shot another annoyed look in the direction of Trip's mirthful face and joined the Captain.

As soon as the door had closed, giving them privacy, Archer turned to the lieutenant. "Malcolm, uhm, are you feeling all right?"

"I'm fine, -- Sir."

Reed was standing rigidly at attention, as if this alone could stop his hiccupping.

"Let me apologise again for my tardiness, Captain," he managed to say in one uninterrupted breath. "I got absorbed in a pro--ject last night and lost track of time. It w -- won't happen again," he concluded with a self-conscious grimace.

Archer regarded his lieutenant with narrowed eyes. "That project…" he let his voice trail. "It didn't involve by any chance Trip and calculating the best trajectory for emptying strong, golden liquid down your throats without spilling any, did it?" he asked suspiciously.

Reed's eyes widened slightly and his mouth twitched down into a frown for the briefest of moments before he answered, a touch of outrage in his voice, "No, Sir. I assure you."

Archer kept Malcolm under his silent scrutiny for a moment longer, and saw him fret.

After jerking a couple of more times the Armoury Officer added resolutely, "I am not int -- toxicated, Captain."

"Perhaps you should visit sickbay," Archer suggested.

"Sir, is it really necessary?" Malcolm asked in a quiet but clearly annoyed tone of voice. "I'm sure this hic--cupping will stop soon."

Archer wavered – everybody knew how incompatible Reed and sickbay were. Eventually he sighed and yielded. "All right, Lieutenant," he conceded. "I guess we'll give it a chance to go away on its own. You may return to your station."

Reed nodded and turned to leave but then suddenly stopped, as if struck by a thought. He turned again and cleared his throat. "Captain," he asked hesitantly. "May I be excused from th-- the bridge? The targeting sensors need to be realigned."

Archer suspected that Malcolm was finding an excuse to go hide himself in the Armoury, where at least he was in charge and could make his men ignore him with but one of his commanding glares. But he couldn't deny that he relished the thought of a quiet bridge, without strangling sounds and bouncing movements.

"Of course," he replied with a full smile. "Wouldn't want those little devils to be off just when we need them."

Reed relaxed his face in a small grin, nodded and turned once again to leave. "Ah, Lieutenant…" Archer added, making him snap back to attention. The Captain waved a finger in the direction of his own face. "You might want to remove that piece of… tissue from your face."

Reed froze and shifted his eyes to the left side. "Aye, Sir," he choked out, quickly bringing his hand to his jaw and finding the offending piece of slightly bloodied paper. "Thank -- you, Captain," he added tautly.

"No problem," Archer said, disguising a chuckle under a fit of cough. "Dismissed."

TBC

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