curate's egg: t noun Brit. a thing that is partly good and partly bad: this book is a bit of a curate's egg. ORIGIN early 20th cent.: from a cartoon in Punch (1895) depicting a meek curate who, given a stale egg at the bishop's table, assures his host that "parts of it are excellent".

Malcolm sprawled back. Well, he sprawled as much as he could on the small bed in his quarters. Even as a senior officer, his quarters were still small and his bed was still uncomfortable.

He'd just returned from dinner with Travis. It had been a bad day to start with but the dinner hadn't helped. Normally Malcolm loved their dinners but today all Travis could seem to do was complain. It had made Malcolm mad and in the end Malcolm had left early.

He loved Travis, he really did. Hell, you didn't date a man for nearly 2 years if you didn't love him. Well, some people might but Malcolm certainly didn't. He did love Travis to…most of the time.

Some days he just couldn't understand the ensign though. Everything was going so well. They were living a dream, out in space, exploring strange new frontiers. It was all Malcolm had wanted for a long time. To be out here, going boldly where no man had gone before. He'd been raised on stories of bravery as sea, Reed's of old exploring the ocean and protecting the people at home. It had always been the exploring bit that had captured Malcolm's imagination. The sea was old now though. It was a known factor. Every square inch of it sailed. It's deepest darkest caverns cracked over and looked over by mans eye. Space was the new frontier. The new adventure. Malcolm just wished his father would see that.

Hell, he just wished Travis could see that. True space may not be as novel for Travis, having grown up in space. Still…It didn't mean he'd ever been to this part of space. No-one had been this far. Was a little enthusiasm to much to ask?

Apparently so. Travis had started the evening by complaining about his small, hard bed. He'd gone on to his rotten day and how he'd had to work hard and his break had been cut short and he still had a pile of paperwork to do. No-one seemed to realise how much paperwork Travis had to do, just from piloting the ship. Every detail had to be recorded and analysed as an aid for the engineers who monitored the warp core. Malcolm didn't dispute that Travis had a lot of work but he did to and he didn't complain.

He knew if was wrong for him just to get up and walk of the way he did. He just couldn't take it any more though. He wanted space and he wanted it then. He had made some excuse, of course. It didn't make any sense but it had been used. Travis wouldn't buy it.

Maybe he should go apologise to Travis. But the last thing he needed was another poor me speech. He'd had enough of that for one day.

Anyway, his day hadn't been so good either. He'd found a major glitch in three of the new phase pistols he'd pulled out of storage and had to go through the complex procedure of replacing the faulty parts. It had taken him the better part of the day and when he finished he found the phase cannons has somehow lost their calibration. He suspected sabotage but this logical mind told him it was just wild speculation. It had happened before and it would happen again. The damn things just needed to be calibrated regularly.

A faint knock on the door pulled him out of this self pity. His first instinct was to yell for the person to go away. Then he wanted to just ignore it. He knew he had to open it thought and act nice to whoever was outside.

slowly he sat up then moved to the door and opened it. Travis was stood outside, looking down at the floor like a lost puppy. Malcolm signed and stepped aside to let him in.

Once the door was closed Malcolm moved and sat down on the bed. Travis sat next to him but that both remained silent. Finally Malcolm decided to just get on with it.

"I'm sorry," he admitted.

"So am I," Travis said.

There was another short silence, then Travis lent over and put his head on Malcolm's shoulder. Malcolm reached over and pulled Travis close. He liked this. Just sitting there quietly holding each other. He liked silence. Didn't get much of it with Travis around but…

"Love you," Travis whispered against him, then stood up. "Sorry but I'm gonna have to go. I've got work to finish."

"It's all right," Malcolm told him, smiling. "Dinner tomorrow?"

Travis grinned then left quickly. Malcolm fell back again. Ok, Travis wasn't perfect. Malcolm had given up any illusion he had of Travis" perfection a LONG time ago. But he was still a wonderful man and Malcolm still loved him. And maybe the didn't have a perfect relationship and maybe they'd never get a fairy tail ending where they all lived happily ever, but that was life. His relationship with Travis was just like everything else. There were good bits and bad bits, but they would work through them, together.