It had bothered him for some time. Actually, the entire incident still caused him to blush every now and then when he thought about it, but that one little thing she said had bigger implications.

"I have a hotplate in my quarters."

Malcolm felt that familiar flush creep up his neck and warm his face slightly. He never felt like such an ass as he did that day when he realized that Hoshi was not trying to ask him out, but was simply offering to make dinner. Correction, he felt like a bigger ass the next day when he realized she was simply trying to find out what his favorite food was.

But that hotplate. He had tried to put it out of his mind, but it still nagged at him. It was against Starfleet regulations. Open heat source, cooking in one's room, it could be a danger and Hoshi should be disciplined. Still, he hadn't the heart to do it himself, and mentioning it would only remind him of his earlier mistake. Malcolm really didn't want to go to the Captain with such a small matter. Trip, he would be the best to talk to about this.

"Hot plate?" Trip repeated as he replaced the panel on a conduit. "What about Hoshi's hot plate?"

"You mean you knew?" Malcolm asked in surprise.

"Sure," Trip replied as he picked up his tool kit. He grinned and smacked his lips. "It's amazing what that girl can cook up on that thing."

Some indefinable emotion streaked through Malcolm. When he spoke, his voice sounded stiff and cool even to his ears. "You realize, Commander, it is against regulations to have a hotplate in one's quarters."

Trip waved his hand dismissively and got onto the lift with Malcolm. "I've checked it out. The thing is safe and Hoshi's real careful about using it. Besides, the Captain okay'd it."

"The Captain knows about it?" Disbelief dripped from Malcolm's voice.

Trip sighed and stopped the lift between decks. "Look Malcolm, I'm going to let you in on something. Hoshi never really wanted to come out here but she was the Captain's first and only choice and he was bound and determined to get her. At the same time, the university she was teaching at was also trying to keep her. The Captain had to…be more flexible with her."

"You mean show her preferential treatment," Malcolm said in a curt and disapproving tone.

Trip sighed again and shook his head. "Look, I'm sure you've already noticed that he cuts Hoshi a lot of slack. But he thinks she's worth it and so do I. She's saved our butts more than once and to be honest, I don't think there is another person alive who would have been able to do what she's done. Just because he lets her get away with a few things now and then, doesn't mean he lets her do what she wants. Besides, Hoshi's never taken advantage of him."

"Except for the hotplate."

"Oh for crying out loud, Malcolm," Trip breathed out in exasperation. He jabbed the button to start the turbolift. "She has a hotplate. Big deal. It's safe, I've checked. And she's not greedy. She has a store of real food and she shares it with everyone."

Malcolm blinked. He had never had anything from Hoshi. Trip caught the expression on Malcolm's face before the armory officer could hide it, but the southerner tactfully said nothing and they continued their trip in silence.

It shouldn't bother him. Apparently, Hoshi has been quite generous with the fruits of her hotplate, except for him. Well, why should she? After all, when he thought she was interested in him, he had rebuffed her. Most likely she was as embarrassed about the incident as he was. Why would she bring it up to him again?

The reasonable explanation still did not ease the bitter taste of loneliness and resentment from his mouth. He felt left out. Shut out. Again. His usual state. Of course, he doesn't do much to change that, constantly cutting himself off from everyone, making no emotional investments. He deserved to be lonely.

The chime on his door rang as he was beginning to throw a dandy of a self-pity party. Malcolm mentally shook himself, throwing off the gloom that clung to him.

"Come in," he called out.

Hoshi entered hesitantly, a small covered bowl in her hands.

"I'm sorry to bother you lieutenant," she began. He could see a faint blush beginning in her cheeks.

"No bother," he said crisply. "What can I do for you ensign?"

Hoshi took a deep breath before replying. "I spoke to Commander Tucker and he mentioned your questions about the hotplate. I wanted to assure you that I am very careful with it and that Trip-, Commander Tucker checks on it every now and then to make sure it isn't a hazard."

"Are you sure he's not doing that in hopes of a midnight snack?" Malcolm asked lightly, trying to sound jovial.

She stared at him a moment before laughing. "Busted. Yes, I think that's the reason he does it." She looked closely at Malcolm. "I also wanted to bring you this." She removed the top off the bowl and showed him that it contained, of all things, toffee trifle. "I remembered, when we were eating your birthday cake and talking about different foods, you mentioned liking toffee trifle."

Malcolm's mouth fell open in a manner that his father would have called uncouth. He finally shut it when he saw a look of doubt creep over Hoshi's face. He jumped to his feet. "That's very kind of you, Hoshi. Where are my manners? Sit down." He took the bowl from her hands as she sank gracefully down on the edge of his bunk. Wordlessly, she handed him a fork she had brought with her.

Malcolm gave her a faint smile and dipped the fork into the whipped cream covered cake and ate a small bite of it. His eyes widened in surprise and appreciation as the silky, sweet taste danced over his tongue.

"Good?" she asked.

"Excellent!" Malcolm exclaimed. "How did you do this with just a hot plate?"

Hoshi laughed and in an almost flirtatious manner, winked at him. "Trade secret." She stood to go. "Enjoy the cake, Lieutenant." She paused at his door and looked over her shoulder at him. "See you on Thursdays at 20:00 hours."

"What happens then?" Malcolm asked in confusion.

"That's the time I try out new recipes and when Trip, the Captain, Travis and Phlox, and sometimes T'Pol, wander by. Hope you can make it."

And with that, she was gone. Malcolm stared at the closed door and looked down at the cake in his hands. A small grin crept over his face and he leaned back in his chair to enjoy the dessert.

It may only be a trifle, but it meant much more to Malcolm Reed.