Disclaimers and Thanks: I have no idea whether Tom Jones and Cerys Matthews have been singing 'Baby It's Cold Outside' in the US or elsewhere, but having heard it only once, I just had to rewrite it for my favourite older rake and flirtatious ingenue.

Ensign, It's Cold Outside

By The Usual Suspects

"It's c... c... cold out there!" The ensign, with the gale behind him, blew into the tent and was now battling to close the flaps. Warm, capable hands took over from his and laced the opening tight against the weather.

"Do you have the translation?" Kirk asked, and took the offered pad from him. Its battery indicator was blinking piteously. "You should have carried it inside your jacket," the captain reproved.

"It will be okay when it warms up," Chekov assured him. "I charged it fully before we left the ship. But the temperature outside is dropping rapidly..."

"Don't worry. These tents are guaranteed against worse weather than we'll see at this time of the planet's year." He glanced briefly at Uhura's analysis of certain terms that had been causing confusion during the negotiations and snapped the translator off. "Do you want some coffee before you go back?"

"The storm is getting worse..."

"And the coffee's hot."

"Then yes."

"And it's *real*. God knows where they got it from." Kirk turned away to the little stove where the pot was steaming. "And God knows why fish-eating, web-fingered aliens can brew decent coffee and Starfleet can't," he muttered to the side of the tent. "Take that parka off. You take up too much room in here with it on. How are the three of you managing in one tent?"

"I don't think Uhura and Sulu are finding it difficult... now that they have found an excuse to be alone for a few minutes," Chekov said, somewhat ruefully, accepting the mug of delicious Blue Mountain blend. Kirk laughed. He hadn't been entirely surprised when his communications officer and helmsman had suddenly started getting tongue tied and adolescent around each other. "You should stay here with me," he suggested. Chekov merely smiled, knowing that the invitation was rhetorical. Captains and their subordinates didn't share quarters, not unless the circumstances were extreme. "I should get back. They will worry about me."

"They won't notice you've gone. Sit down and drink that."

"The storm is..."

"Getting worse, I know. At least make sure you're warm through before you go out again. The snow must be up to your knees already."

"They've stopped clearing the paths. By now, it will be mid thigh."

"D'you want that topped up?" Kirk was holding out a flask. Chekov hesitated before holding out his mug in turn. "I should not. Surely I am on duty?"

"I don't think you are. We're not meeting them again until morning, and I haven't put you on sentry duty. According to Spock, the pack ice is fifty feet deep and the only local carnivores are the other side of it. Are you warm enough?"

"Oh, yes. These tents are most efficient. Do you think they are *really* made of fish skin?"

"You could try soaking one in water and see what it tastes like, if you really want to know. Anyhow, it's too cold outside to grow anything more conventional, like cotton or hemp. And I guess they need anything they might use to make synthetics as fuel for heating."

"I should get back..."

"Take your boots off. They're leaving puddles."

"Oh. I'm sorry." Chekov doubled over to pull off his boots. Kirk laughed and sat down facing him. "I'll brace you."

"Thank you, Captain. There. Perhaps I should use my communicator to..."

"If they're really worried, they'll comm us. What did you think of dinner?"

"It was..."

"Disgusting?"

"The coffee is much better."

"Do you want some more?"

"It will keep me awake."

"Well, we can't have that." Kirk left the pot on the stove and for a moment the two men sat simply enjoying the warm glow of the stove.

"This reminds me of home," Chekov said. "A big stove in the middle of the main living room." Kirk pulled a face. "Well, we only have the one room, but proportionately, it's a big stove."

"You have to take care not to get chilblains," Chekov said, wriggling his toes but not moving them away from the heat.

"Oh? And how do you do that?" The ensign shrugged. "Ask someone to rub your feet, to maintain the circulation." Kirk shuffled round until he was sitting next to Chekov's knees, and began rubbing his feet gently between the palms of his hands. "Mmmm. Your feet *are* cold. Are you wearing the right boots?"

"Yes. But it is very cold outside."

"Relax," Kirk admonished. "You're not going anywhere until you've warmed up."

"Yes, sir." They listened to the tent sides being buffeted by the gale.

"I should..."

"Was the path marked? In this wind, it'll be invisible by now."

"It is only..."

"You won't be able to see your own hand in front of you, let alone a half-buried tent. Better now?"

"Mm? Oh. Yes." Chekov pulled his toes in and wrapped his arms round his knees. Then he glanced sideways at his captain. "They are probably asleep by now."

"Yeah. Shame to disturb them."

"But if they wake and I'm not there..."

"They'll comm you."

"It is very cold outside."

"I suppose I should shake out those furs and spread them around so they can warm up," Kirk said. He stood up after a moment and began unfolding the huge white pelts. When he'd finished he sat down again and absently put his arm around Chekov's shoulders. "Good as these tents are, there's quite a heat gradient in here."

"Well, it is very cold outside."

"So," Kirk said softly, "are you going back now?" Chekov could feel his eyelids closing under their own weight. "I suppose I should..." His legs felt like lead. He couldn't find the energy to get up.

"It's tough, isn't it?"

"Hmmm? I mean, Captain?"

"When three minus two leaves one."

"Oh. No. I mean... We're still friends. But..."

"But sometimes you're not as welcome as you used to be."

"No, it's not a problem. I mean..."

"You find yourself with time on your hands."

"No, I..." Chekov stopped, realising that the captain's tone was more confessional than sympathetic. "Yes, you do." He swallowed. "Of course, everyone was very happy for Mister Spock and Doctor McCoy..."

"Of course. Everyone." They released two sighs that sounded like one. Chekov let himself lean a little more weight on the captain, just as Kirk relaxed and let his arm slide down around the ensign's waist.

"But it is..."

"...cold outside."

The end