B'Elanna sighed, and stared at her sleeping lover. Tom was sprawled across the bed, almost edging her out of it. He was lying on his stomach, though she knew well enough that by morning he'd be curled up on his side, facing away from her. It was quite unconscious, and purveyed through every thing they did. He'd be touching her with one hand, and the other would be still, as if there was something else it should be doing. He'd catch himself, and bring both into play, but she always noticed, even if he didn't. And tonight... If she didn't love him she'd've killed him.

She sat up, and swung her legs over the side of the bed. There was a faint grunt behind her, and she glanced back to see Tom moving further out. She grinned. He'd regret that later, but right now she needed to think. Hot chocolate maybe. Now why had she thought of hot chocolate, she wondered, as she ordered it from the replicator.

Oh yes. It was what Harry had recommended the last time he had needed to do some serious thinking. The sweet stuff suddenly tasted bitter and poisonous, and she had to swallow quickly.

Harry.

Well, there it was, no getting away from it. She wandered over to the port hole, wrapping her hands around the warm cup, letting her eyes drift over the unfamiliar stars. She smiled faintly. If she wasn't in love with him, she'd kill him too. She chuckled softly, laughing at herself. It was all so confused, and at the same time so clear. She wanted - no, be honest here, honour demands you not lie to yourself. She pulled a face. Much good honour had done her so far. So. The honest version... Not 'wanted': she loved them both. But Harry loved only Tom, and Tom didn't seem to know who he loved.

<Well, it's good to be ahead with the news,> she thought sourly, half glancing back towards the bedroom.

And now... She swore softly, looking down into the slightly glutinous stuff in her mug. She had to do something, that at least was now clear. And if Harry didn't want a threesome, he didn't, and that was that. She couldn't make him love her. And those weren't tears. She was tired, and her eyes ached from peering at screens all day. Oh damn.

Blinking fiercely, B'Elanna dipped a finger into the cooling drink and licked the stuff up. Some people would say she should be grateful to have Tom Paris, without getting greedy, and wanting his best friend too. If only. She closed her eyes and dropped into the easy chair. <So, what now, Torres? Usual steps,> she replied, practically, <Review the situation, define the problem, create a solution.> She snorted, and clapped her free hand over her mouth when Tom made a soft noise in response, and held still as he moved on the bed, the base creaking faintly with each shift. In moments he'd stilled again, murmuring a name, and descended into deeper REM sleep again. <Concentrate. Concentrate.> she told herself fiercely.

Review... They'd been making love--

Tom was barely inside the room when he was all over her.

"Hey, slow down--" and her mouth was taken, ravaged, then he was worrying at her lips, kissing stinging trails down her face and throat.

<That's gonna mark,> she thought, delighted by the ferocious onslaught. Her clothes vanished. She was aware, in the periphery of her vision, of pieces of red and gold and black flying to hit floor and walls, draping over furniture. His hands were touching, rubbing, squeezing her, crushing her breasts, wet heat of his mouth darting down to suckle on her nipples, one, the other, then the first again, carelessly nipping at the aureolae, licking the tender skin on the underside of her breast, kneeling, his tongue bringing fire down from her sternum to navel, pausing there, hands on her hips. When she grabbed his shoulders for balance he tongued inside her bellybutton, flicked a hot glance up at her, eyes fervid with desire, then shoved one shoulder forward into her stomach, and stood up while she was gasping, and she was suddenly draped over his shoulder, being carried into their bedroom.

Her nails raked up his back, from thigh to shoulder blade, leaving white streaks that quickly filled with tiny speckles of blood. He yelped and threw her onto the bed. Before she bounced he was on her again, running his own nails down her darker skin, along her neck, down her sides. It didn't mark as easily as his fair skin did, but that didn't mean she didn't feel it, the sharpness of his short nails, the tingle of the stripes he left, the gut wrenching lust burning all thought to flinders.

His mouth followed them, cooling the sting, fanning the flames with open lips and wet tongue, and again, the other side, till she was writhing, legs splayed, hips moving mindlessly. His hands moved to grip her wrists, holding them away from him. He grinned down at her, scooping both slender arms in one strong hand, and dipped his fingers between her legs. The grin widened and softened when he felt the moisture drenching her curls. He ran his fingers through the dark curls, and briefly, traitorously, she had seen his mind wander, and him wrench it back to here and now, not letting whatever it was that had brought this excitement on distract him from this as well. He moved his body further down, then slid his hands under her buttocks. Lightly he tasted her sweetness, "... again, again, more..." - it could have been either of them, both of them, pleading so desperately.

He moved deeper, letting his tongue slip inside her for a moment, then up again, teasing at her clit. She arched off the bed, needy, not there yet, wanting so badly. She tensed stomach muscles and pulled her torso almost vertical. She meant to grab him, and was distracted by the sight of that bright guinea gold hair so close to her own rough curls that the strands were mingling, tickling her. But only momentarily.

She grabbed his hair, dragging him up until their lips met, and she twisted as they fell back onto the bed. She licked greedily at his lips, tasting the saltiness that was her own flavour. They were completely tangled up, rolling over and over, B'Elanna determined to get on top, Tom just as determined to take command this time. She pinned his shoulders, and slid her bottom down along his stomach, grinding her mound into him, leaving a long wet streak after her. When she felt his cock pressing up against her ass she shifted back a little further, and his eyes went wide, his hips jerking up once. Then he bit his lip, and opened his eyes to stare at her.

For a moment she almost thought she detected disappointment, then there was no room for thought. He'd hauled her down onto him again and flipped them both over roughly, the bed giving an audible groan. He was above her, inside her, there, thrusting hard, hands on her hips, bringing her up to meet his forceful strokes. When she reached for him he collected her wrists, taking one in each hand and pinned them up above her shoulders. Her eyes closed, and his back arced a little further, driving him over that particular place inside her, and she screeched, moving her hips in the most ancient rhythm of all, faster, faster...

It was then it had happened. They'd come, together, B'Elanna crying "Tom! Tom! Yes! Yes! TOM!"

And Tom, Tom had cried out, "Oh I love you! Harry! Oh God!"

B'Elanna shivered, and took a long drink of the cold chocolate. <He didn't even realise he'd said it. I wonder if it was thinking of Harry that got him-->

She took another mouthful to take the bitter tang of the thought away. <Of course he was. He's never like that unless you've been teasing him all day. So, you don't see him for half a day because he's off on some food gathering expedition with Harry. A whole five hours, two of which were in close proximity on a shuttle, the other three of which were in close proximity to each other for safety on a dangerous planet. When he gets back he's like an animal,> she grinned ferally at the memory, not really aware of her expression. <Now, flattering though it might be to think it, he didn't possibly get that horny just because he's not gotten any off of me for a few hours, so who do you think he's been getting excited over, hmm?> She glanced towards the bedroom, where Tom's dark blond head was visible, just emerging from the dark blue covers.

<Damn but I hate you sometimes, Paris. Don't you ever, fucking *ever* slake out your hots for someone else on me again. Even if it is the beautiful and monogamous Harry Kim. Or should that be mono-androus? No matter.> A smile twitched at her lips. <Not that I blame him. But at the very least he should have done me the courtesy of remembering who he was fucking. Even if it was kind of fun... I wonder what ... No. It's never going to happen, so why torture yourself.>

<So. Tom loves Harry. And Harry loves Tom.> She sighed again. Her 'Starfleet' had barely been able to be civil to her ever since she and Paris had become a couple. <Harry, of all people, eaten up with jealousy.> Not that she'd recognised it at first. No, she'd just been puzzled as to why they weren't speaking any more. No. To be accurate, at first she was so suffused with happiness and relief and lust that Tom wanted to be with her, that she'd barely been aware of whether she was walking or flying. Then she'd thought, vaguely, that she missed having Harry around, and had tried to talk to him. Another sigh. She got up and grabbed a robe, it was getting cold, sitting there with all these thoughts. It hadn't gone well, trying to talk to Harry. In fact, thinking back, it had barely 'gone' at all.

//
"Hey, Starfleet. What you up to tonight?" she'd asked him in the corridor after shift-close.

A shrug. "Dunno. Practise, write up reports. Whatever." His eyes flickered uneasily away, lowered, determinedly making no contact.

She'd smiled. "Look, why not join me and Tom? We're going to be--"

"No thanks, B'Elanna," he'd interrupted swiftly, "Gotta dash. Seeya." And he was gone, leaving the engineer staring after him in stupefaction.
//

That time, she'd assumed he was busy, or being polite - trying not to intrude on their new relationship. After the fifth identical reception she'd started to get it. It was the actual existence of the relationship that was bugging him. <So?> she'd thought. <He and Tom will always be the best of friends. Things change. He'll learn to accept I'm in Paris' life too now. He'll get used to it.>

She hit herself in annoyance at her own denseness. It wasn't until she'd seen Harry watching the two of them in the resort that she'd finally clicked. The three of them had been sitting together, chatting. Well, B'Elanna and Tom were chatting, and Harry was being monosyllabic, and that only in response to direct questions from Tom. B'Elanna he answered with shrugs.

Tom had leaned back on the seat, and dropped an arm around B'Elanna's shoulders. By sheer fluke, she was looking at Harry when it happened, and caught the fleeting gamut of emotions being directed at her - rage, envy, hate, pain, then all wiped into blankness. It hadn't been long after that that the ensign had excused himself. Tom protested, but B'Elanna had made another mistake. She'd said, "No, Tom. Let him go if he wants to."

The cynical look he cast at her nearly made her gasp out, "No, I didn't mean it like that." But she didn't. She had been too busy dealing with the pain of seeing such a look on her Starfleet's face, hating her, and with the attached revelation that she was in love with Harry Kim as well as Tom Paris.

She dropped back into the chair, curling back into the warm patch she found there, nursing a new drink. <Way to go, B'Ela. You snaffle the second best looking guy on the ship, you have amazing sex, a happy relationship. Mostly happy. A wonderful partner, when sometimes you wondered if you'd live out your life as an old maid. Though there's always the warp core,> she reflected snickering faintly. Even for a Klingon she had very sharp ears. <Where was I? Sex, and you decide this isn't enough. You get the improbably eager, and you hanker after the impossibly hostile.> She still had difficulty believing Tom really wanted her.

<He's never said he loves me. Not as such. Maybe he just wanted to prove he could bed anyone. That's why you refused to have anything to do with his flirting for so long, remember?> She stared blankly at the floor, remembering the lovers she had known. Haniq, who'd wanted to fuck an alien. Mike, who'd done it on a bet. Chabisa, who -- no, not that memory. The evening was bad enough. With an effort she forgot her lover's dying screams as Starfleet's phasers ripped her little, unarmed shuttle apart... This cup of chocolate was starting to form a skin. She sipped at the lukewarm liquid, pulling a face when the congealed stuff came too. She swallowed hastily, then took a slower mouthful to take away the taste. <Not a good track record, then. I don't know. Why do I always fall for the wrong people? The ones who don't care. Am I that bad a judge of character? I never get the good stuff, it just doesn't work out for me. 'One long disappointment', that's what I am.> Her mother's cruel words flitted through her head, clear enough to ring in B'Elanna's skull even yet, nearly ten years later, those words spoken bitterly to a feeble half-breed daughter, before she disowned her for going to the Academy.

"Perhaps I always knew it was too good to be true," she muttered harshly.

"B'Ela?" Tom appeared in the doorway, rubbing dust from his eyes, leaving the lashes spiked together adorably. Not that she was going to tell him so.

"What are you doing up?" she said irritably.

"Me? What about you?" He took in the discarded cups scattered around the chair she was curled up in, looking ridiculously small and cute. Not that he was going put it quite like that. "You know, you look delicious there, all curled up, with that sweet little chocolate moustache round your mouth."

She distinctly growled. "Paris, go back to bed. I'm just trying to figure out a problem, and I'll think better if you're not mooching around, distracting me."

He crouched beside the chair, and smiled up at her. "A three pipe problem?"

"Huh?"

"Twenty century expression. Means a real tough one to crack. Come on, B'Ela, you won't get anywhere brooding all night instead of getting your beauty-sleep." He pulled a rueful face when she just looked stubborn. "Might've known. Okay, well maybe a fresh eye could help. What's the matter?"

"Just go back to bed, Tom," she said wearily.

A hand touched her averted face, and she closed her eyes. "B'Ela, what's wrong?" A gentle finger traced the path the earlier tears had taken, and dammit all she wasn't going to cry again.

"Tom --" her eyes met his. "You've never said it."

"Said what?" he stalled. But he knew exactly what. He'd simply dodged the issue by distracting her. And now she wanted payback on that declaration of hers all those months ago. "Okay, I know, I know. I'm just not, not much for blurting that kind of stuff out. And--" his voice trailed off.

"And?"

He smiled weakly. "And I never seem to find the right moment." He sounded hopeful rather than confident that it was a statement he'd just made. But he just couldn't seem to bring himself to say it. And now he'd gone and pushed at her, and she was going to push back this time, and not let it lie, and he didn't really understand why he was so reluctant to admit what everyone knew. Only today, Harry had remarked on how happy and in love Tom looked. He shrugged mentally, and held out a hand.

"At least come to bed and get warm, B'Ela," he cajoled. He'd almost been panicked into saying something when he saw the momentary hesitation in her eyes, but before he could do or say anything, she'd smiled back at him, not an entirely happy smile, but better than that searching stare, and uncurled. She pulled his head to her, and kissed him hard.

<Enough thinking for one night. I'll call him on it tomorrow,> she decided abruptly, and led Tom back into the bedroom.

A little later they were tumbled together in an exhausted pile, still breathing hard.

"Oh man," Tom said when he could manage to speak. "what was that about?"

B'Elanna shrugged. "I wanted to know something," she said cryptically.

"And?"

"And what?" <Don't do this Tom, please?>

"And did you find it out?"

She pulled herself away from him, sitting up on the far side of the wide bed, her air of sated content dissipating. Tom sat up too, looking concerned.

"B'Ela?"

Her knees came up, and she leaned her head on them, looking sideways at him. "You're not going to let this go are you?"

"Nope. Come on B'Ela. What's the matter, love?" Her eyes narrowed at the endearment, but he was oblivious, genuinely worried.

"I guarantee you won't like it, Paris."

"It can't be that bad." His eyes were fixed on her unhappy face, and he was forced to add hesitantly, "Can it?"

She sighed and shook her head. "It's late, Paris, and I need some sleep if I'm going to function tomorrow. Computer, lights off." She lay down again and tugged the covers back into place around her. Tom stared at the uncommunicative back of her neck for a long moment, then shrugged, and spooned up behind her, draping one warm arm over her waist. She smiled sadly into the darkness. Tomorrow would be time enough to come up with a decision. Eventually they both fell asleep.

0------------------------------------------------------------------------------------0

Personal log, Ensign Harry Kim, ****.**

Well, another thrilling day in the delta quad safely over. Let's see, the score today, aliens nil, Harry Kim - nil. Another stunning no score draw. Ah fuck it, why the hell do I bother keeping this thing anyway? It's all the same. Reports, logs, same old conversations, over and over - 'hey Harry, let's chat', 'how're you doing Ensign?', like they care. Same old people, never meaning a word they say, or saying the words they mean. Words. I wonder if anyone knows how much I hate words. Everyone keeps going on at me, and what do I do in my fucking free time? More words. All the words in the galaxy, except the ones I want... I mean, why keep a fucking log anyway? Pathetic. Like Starfleet's ever gonna be in a position to use it. And why would I want to remember all the things which have happened over the last five years anyway? And that's apart from all the minor crud. Let's see, Day one, got kicked into Delta Quad, died, met new species, made contact, got suckered, left. Day two, fixed warp core, died, met new species got suckered, left, day three, fixed alien technology, got suckered by it and died. Gee, and how did day four go again? Never mind, just put it on continuous loop, no one'll ever know the difference.

Day one...met Tom. So okay, maybe I'd play that one over... God. I was so young. What a total fuckwit you were. Are. Imagine, you actually thought that taking it slow and patient was the way to get somewhere with a crush. Not hot on intuition are ya Kim? Maybe if I'd jumped his bones... Ensign Kim, I believe you have unresolved issues regarding your relationship with Lieutenant Paris. No fucking kidding.

More fucking words. There's no point to it. No point to any of it. They mess your head up, and confuse you, and make you remember when all you want to do is forget.

Best friend. There's two of the really good ones. Best friend. Pathetic. Buddies together. Three musketeers. Two musketeers, really. Stop that! It's bad enough that his name flits - like that - through my head without rhyme or reason, without correcting yourself as well. I wonder what his hair feels like. It was kind of rough and icky on that prison ship, bathing facilities being less than your typical four star. Probably softer. That curl in it... I wonder if it would stick up all over the place if I ran my hands through it backwards, bet he'd hate that. You're right, he would. And you know why Kim? Because he's got B'Elanna's hands to do that for him, he doesn't need or want yours. You're a fucking idiot. Me? I'm an idiot? You're the one who tried to get him jealous by starting something with Seven. That went so well. I get to be the laughing stock of the galaxy, and I don't even pull the right person. I don't even pull the wrong person. Great, now I'm talking to myself. Well, someone has to. God knows he doesn't.

Hey, come on. Don't exaggerate. That's not really fair on him, it's not like you give him the chance to talk any more. At least that way I know I'm not going to embarrass us both... He'd talk to you quite happily, about anything if you let him. Almost anything. Or at least he used to. <sigh> Well, it's not all bad. Oh yeah? He's sleeping with B'Elanna, I'm gonna die before I get home, and Libby ditched me. Instead of marrying me. Man, was that ever a shock, one minute you're in the Delta Quad thinking of your female fuck-buddy, the next, you're back home and she's hearing wedding bells... Hey, you're right, it's not all bad. No commitments, and with a little luck I'll never have to go home again. Think of that. Seventy years without the three of them rowing round me the whole frigging time. Yeah. I can live with that. Damn but I love the way this place is so quiet. This quad's got its drawbacks, but seventy thousand light years ain't one of 'em. I've said it before, and I'll probably say it again. Having a close family ain't all it's cracked up to be. <sigh> Not by a long shot. With a little luck they'll both - they'll all be dead long before we get back.

Ensign Kim, you may never see your family again. Hey, break out the champagne, where's the party, I've got some serious celebrating to do. They'd think I'd gone space crazy. I can see it all? 'Poor Harry, the stress was too much for him.' 'Har's just in denial, he'll be fine soon.' Hey, I wonder if I could persuade Tom to do some fevered-brow-mopping. He is med-tech, after all. No one would understand though. They all think I'm so nice, so normal. If they knew! Still, there's no reason they ever will know. That's the great thing about personal logs. That's how they stay. Personal. Until Starfleet get their sticky mitts on it. But that's the great thing about this ship. I'll never know.

Maybe I should go up to him and say what I'm really thinking one day. He'd be in uniform. God, he looks good with those black pants stretched over his ass. The longest legs, and the way he turns... One day I'll catch him jammed inside a conduit or something with that classic butt sticking out of it, and I'll just drag his trousers down, and fuck him where he stands. Or alternatively, I could just go break into his quarters, and say, "Hi there. Why don't you take that uniform off, it looks kind of tight and uncomfortable. And just lay down there, yeah, on the bed, the floor, wherever you want, and I'll fuck your lights out. Or you can do me first if you want. I'm easy. Real easy." And he'll umm, and er, and back off, and find a million reasons not to talk to me or be near me. I hate words. And imagination. Damn but I'm getting good at imagining. And dreams. Now they're a real bitch. Hey, there was that one the other night... Nah, why torture yourself with your clothes on? It'll only make a mess, and I'm out of replicator rations. And you know why? Comes of refusing to eat in the mess, in case you run into them.

Maybe I should do it. Not the whole thing, but just grab him, not like that, just get hold of him one evening, after shift, and ask him if we can talk. He'll look at me, all blue eyes and innocence - well, maybe not! And he'll say sure, Har, let me call B'Elanna... And the three of us'll sit in awkward silence until I get up and go, and I try not to see the looks of relief on their faces.

Or maybe I could get him to come here. That'd be better. Ask if I could talk to him, oh, something stupid - I know, Seven. Nah, tried that. I'll think of something. Just make sure B'Ela - B'Elanna - doesn't come too. Yeah, that could work.

So he'd be here, and, and I know, we could have a drink, or dinner even, but he might guess if I ask him to come to dinner. But he might be skipping his dinner. Skipping his dinner to come and talk to me. Yeah, right. Chance'ud be a fine thing. Later on then, and we'd sit in here, he could have the sofa, he likes sprawling all over the place, me - well I can't imagine wanting to sit down, so I'd probably be pacing. He'd tell me to sit down, complain I was making him dizzy, and then, maybe he'd ask me what the trouble was.

So I tell him. Tell him I fell in love, I want, I, damn. Once I tell him I've gone and fallen in love with him, it'll all be over. No more chance of us being friends again one day, when it doesn't feel so--. B'Elanna'll hate me too, when she found out. I'd miss her. I miss her now... Oh, why did they have to get together, it's changed everything. It'll never feel right again. She'd probably never speak to me again. I'd probably regret that, once I get over her having him. <sigh> It just won't work, will it? I've got almost nothing to lose, but that bit of almost is too precious to risk.

But perhaps he'd smile at me and say he loved me too. I'll never know. No, how fucking dumb can you be Kim, of course he wouldn't. Don't be so fucking stupid. He loves her. He'd just sit there looking at me with that look on his face, the one that says, don't do this to me, I don't want to deal with your emotional crises, just keep it to yourself.

This is stupid. Gah. At this rate I might as well go try Seven. God knows she's more likely a prospect than any of the rest of them.

0---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------0

Tom sat by himself in the Mess Hall. He'd eaten, but looking at the cleared plate, he had no idea what it had even looked like. Well, beyond certain broad - very broad, outlines that is. His stomach was definitely full though, so he must have eaten even if he couldn't remember doing so. He examined the fragments left behind, and decided it was probably for the best that he never find out.

He looked around the hall again, and grimaced. There was no one there to talk to, to distract him from himself. He had been hoping to see B'Elanna, but they hadn't had a chance to talk since the night before, when she'd been so depressed. They'd overslept, and only just made their respective posts on time. She still hadn't told him what the matter was, and something, <There was always something down in Engineering, bloody convenient tonight,> he growled quietly to himself, something had come up, or broken down, and she was stuck down there. Probably Harry was still down there too, though she tended to throw him out if he stayed too late. Always had a soft spot for Har, B'Elanna did. The only person on the ship she had a nickname for - or from. Starfleet and Maquis.

He prodded a small orange lump through the greenish gravy, and turned over the thoughts from last night. Seemed like she was having second thoughts just because he'd still not told her how he felt about her. He suspected she was just waiting for him to 'own up' to loving her, and everything would be back to normal. She had a point, he acknowledged. <How long has it been? Two? Three months?> So that was probably the solution to B'Elanna's trouble. They'd flirt a little, he'd tease her, she'd threaten to beat him up, and then... his grin widened. It would be great. He'd spent months trying to get to this point, in one of the most unsubtle pursuits of his career. Harry had laughed at him so many times, when he got turned down, knocked back - sometimes literally, but finally, he'd done it. All he had to do was to say it. Tell her how he really felt, make that last step of commitment. His lips curved in pleasure as he thought of her face when he told her, how happy he would make her. How happy they both would be.

So why hadn't he done it? He scowled ferociously at the galley, not hearing Neelix' remarks about how rude some people were, and thought.

He wasn't much given to introspection. He was well aware of the vast areas of unpleasant memories that he spent most of his time avoiding. All the stupid mistakes, the seamless string of disasters that had been his life, the hurts and embarrassments, the reprimands, punishments, humiliations.

But right here and now, it couldn't get better than this. A job, a woman, a place. Friends, respect. He realised, with a certain amount of wonder, that he was almost happy - that he was getting used to being happy. But it looked like he couldn't hold off on wading through some of it any longer if he was going to get to keep it all. He considering finding Harry to talk it through, and for some obscure reason decided against it. He was probably still down in Engineering arguing with B'Ela anyway. And there was something about Harry that made it very hard to think about B'Elanna. He pushed the plate away from him, and reluctantly headed back for his quarters. He suspected he was going to need all the privacy he could get.

***

"Why can't I say it? It's easy enough. Three words. Eight letters. And I even mean it. So where's the problem?" It had taken an hour of pacing and swearing and arm-waving to reach this point, and he was still no closer to understanding himself. He'd put as much time and effort into this relationship as he had in getting his first commission, as creating Sandrine's. He wanted it. For god's sake, he'd made a big enough fool of himself over her in other ways, that one last effort shouldn't matter any more. Just this one last thing, and he was home and dry. <Home and wet,> he smirked briefly, and let the humour go. <I'm this close... >And for some reason that his subconscious wasn't letting on about, the prospect of success had reduced him to gibbering mass of indecisiveness.

"This close?" he repeated thoughtfully, out loud. "This close to what? Permanency? Settling down?" He nodded. "Maybe it's the idea of the commitment I'm freaking on... I wonder what Harry would do?" He frowned and stood, pacing anxiously. "Maybe I should ask him. I mean, he said himself the other night how he could see how in love we were... I wonder if he's all right. He was quieter than usual all yesterday. Barely uttered, apart from that once, come to think of it." <But every time you looked up he was watching you,> came a quiet comment. He blinked and dismissed it. His frown deepened, come to think of it, Harry'd been kind of thinner looking lately, and that calm forehead had started to show faint lines of worry on it that he couldn't remember seeing before. <Something's definitely not right there. B'Elanna, we're thinking B'Ela here. I'll deal with Har later.>

"What would Harry do?" he asked himself again. He laughed, "Harry. Plain, sensible, kind old Harry. The honourable, honest thing of course. He'd arrange flowers and music, and he'd tell her, after a sensible, considered period of a couple of months or so of dating, and he'd ask her to marry him."

"She might even say yes," he added, and then caught himself. "Whoa, where did that come from? Harry and B'Elanna?" He let out a short grunt of laughter. "She'd break him in two -- he'd never cope with her moods and tantrums. It'd never work."

Although he was the gentlest, most patient man Tom had ever met. And the kindest. Loyal too. And punctual, he reminded himself with a faint grin which faded as he recalled the circumstances of that remark. They'd nearly lost Harry there. He could have died, or stayed, never come back, or even died down on that planet. Harry Kim and the Planet of the Nymphomaniacs, he'd mentally dubbed it, and was saving the comment for a really good moment. He might have died. He jerked his head. <Enough with the dying already. He didn't die. This time.> Briefly he shut his eyes, remembering the every occasion he'd had to think the worst would happen. Hell, it wasn't even like the kid was that reckless, but somehow, if there was something life-threatening around, he'd be the one falling into, out of, onto, over it. <How'd I get onto Harry again anyway?" He shook his head. <B'Ela,> he reminded himself. <Focus Paris, focus.>

"She probably would say yes."

He hit himself in the head. "Jeez, concentrate here, what's with Harry and B'Ela anyway?" He considered that for a moment and his face softened into a smile as he thought of his best friend. "He's just, Harry." His shoulders lifted in a shrug. "Just Harry. I'd say yes if he asked, so why not B'Ela too?" He barely noticed his own admission, diving back on topic again.

"I'm doing it again! I know what's going on here," he warned himself with a rueful scowl. "It's some kind of displacement ain't it, trying to get away from the real problem. It is commitment, isn't it?" He shook his head disapprovingly at himself, unconsciously mimicking his father in a way Janeway would have been startled to recognise.

"Right," he told himself sternly. "Paris, you have to get over this. The main thing is, you love B'Elanna, yes?" He thought about it for a while, and found he was smiling, a good ten minutes later, drifting in a haze of B'Ela, how beautiful she was, how brave, how clever. And sexy. Ye gods. He shivered, and smiled as he realised he'd given himself an erection.

"Okay, so that's a yes on the love front. Stage two, tell her." He stroked a casual hand across his crotch, but his arousal was already waning.

"B'Elanna, I love you." he said experimentally, and felt his stomach lurch. <Okay, right, no worries, I've got it, it's just nerves, what I need to do is go up to her, maybe take her somewhere special, do it properly, no, she'll think I'm proposing, somewhere casual. Not too casual. Ye gods. I need to just go and say it. Once it's done it'll be fine. Got to remember to leave out the self analysis, I'm just twisting myself into knots.> He peered at himself in the window as he tried out the words.

"B'Elanna, I love you. I love you. I'm in love with you. Lieutenant Torres, my heart beats only for you. Paris to engineering, the state of the warp core is ecstatically in love." He rolled his eyes. "Christ, Paris, just find her and spit it out. Oh, that'll be attractive: 'Lt Torres, (hawkspit - ping) I love ya.' Every woman's dream." He glared at his reflection. "I look like a dork."

"Shit." He paced some more.

"Computer, locate Lieutenant Torres."

"Lieutenant Torres is in Holodeck 2."

"Okay. Okay. We go down to the holodeck, not we, I, I go in - no I ask her if I can come in - but she'll want to know why... and I can't surprise her if I tell her I'm-- oh shit. Harry'll know what to do."

He could feel his breathing turn ragged. He tried to steady it, calm, calm, not panicking, I'm not panicking... I can do this.> He took three brisk steps to the door before dropping to the floor in an uncomfortable pile, his feet refusing to carry him. He swore vividly at himself. <Call Harry. Call Harry,> an insidious little voice kept chanting. <He'll tell you what to do.> His hand hesitated over his comm badge, almost reached to the floor to push himself to his feet to leave, and froze midway between the two, shaking slightly with the conflicting needs of the mind driving it.

Then a helpless cry, "Ah, shit." And he dropped his head into his hands, yanking at his hair.

"This is so pathetic! What's the big deal, Paris? It's just B'Elanna, it's not like you're off to tell Harry you love him too..." he told himself sharply, then turned an odd off-white colour, as revelation hit.

"Oh fuck."

There was a long silence. He could almost hear the engines through the still emptiness of his room, his mind. All thought vanished, subsumed by the sudden clarity of understanding. It was finally obvious. She couldn't be the one after all. How could she be if he felt like that? How could he love her if he loved Harry? He painfully remembered all the times he'd humiliated her, patronised her, shown off around her, and now, seen with clear hindsight, it felt like he had never really cared how she took it, what she thought about it. Obviously he couldn't really care about her, not the way he thought he had, not if he was prepared to behave like some medieval chauvinist over her.

Bitter at his own self-deception he let himself tip all the other way, expecting only the worst, assuming he had lied to himself, and to both his friends, all along. He forgot all the times she had smiled at him and his heart had turned over, forgot the delight he had felt when she said she loved him, forgot everything in his panic at the realisation that he loved Harry. Christ. "Just B'Elanna," he repeated sickly. A B'Elanna who was probably going to reach down his throat and pull his balls out. He moaned faintly.

"You selfish bastard, you can't have them both..." He ran his hands into his hair and pulled.

This looked like being one of the most hideously awkward, embarrassing and generally awful experiences of his life. Just when it was all going so well too. He didn't want her. At least, not just her. He had thought he had, but now... All the posing and posturing, the flirting and attention weren't just for her benefit, never had been. <And,> he thought miserably, <he never even noticed. No wonder I kept wandering off into what Harry thought, what he wanted, oh shit. It was all designed to make someone else realise what they were missing as well.>

No wonder he'd blown up at Harry for that thing with Seven. He hadn't been concerned, he'd been jealous. He felt sick. How could he have been so dim? He sighed, seeing how he missed it.

<It was always there. I guess I just never noticed, because he was always going to be there. Course, the moment he's got a chance elsewhere, dog-in-the-manger- Paris don't want to let go. I thought it was just being friends... Haven't had many friends like him - no one like him. I just want what I don't have. Hell, if I was sleeping with Harry I'd probably be cheating on him with B'Ela, 's the kind of person you are, isn't it?> His body slumped miserably. <God, what a mess. All it needed was for it to turn out Harry's gone and fallen for B'Elanna and the disaster will be complete.>

His head jerked up abruptly, fear in his eyes. Oh God, no. He thought back... Every time Tom was visibly affectionate to B'Elanna, Harry had withdrawn a little. He'd been so focused on getting into B'Elanna's pants he'd barely noticed that he didn't see Harry any more. The ensign hadn't really said a word beyond the usual pleasantries in weeks. Possibly longer.

Slowly he remembered times when he'd seen Harry walk into a room where he and B'Elanna were sitting a little too close together, and turn on his heel and walk out again. All the excuses to get off the Bridge, taking him to engineering, supposedly to do repairs - what if he just wanted to see her. Oh Christ. It was true. Harry wanted B'Elanna, and Tom was hurting him. But B'Elanna loved him, Tom. What a god-awful mess.

Staring at the wall, the lieutenant made a decision. Now he knew, there'd be no more games. He'd get out of the way - his breath caught on something very like a sob, he'd get out of both their ways. At least Harry might be happy that way, even if Tom couldn't have him. And B'Elanna deserved better than him, better than a selfish screw-up who wrecked everything he touched. She deserved someone like Harry, who was kind, and steadfast, and would never ever mess around with people's emotions the way Tom had. Noble sentiment decided, Tom crumpled onto the floor, arms tightly around his stomach, and rocked himself.

0---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------0

B'Elanna was fuming. Most of her anger was a mask for the dawning fear she felt grow with every moment that Tom was late. They had booked this holoprogram session weeks before. He'd written it based on some old 2D, and had given it to her for a birthday present. They hadn't had a chance to run it together yet, and she'd been looking forward to trying out with an extra person, especially the programmer, who might know of extra tricks and treats in the game. She'd sat through the films, another of Tom's 20 century eccentricities, and found them almost Klingon like, but lacking in honour. Still, it made for a good workout.

She was bouncing lightly on her toes, jouncing the massive projectile weapon from hand to hand. It was almost as big as she, but it was fun. <Where the fuck is he?> She'd already called him twice, and he'd mumbled something about being busy. When she'd told him to get his arse in gear and get down here before she dumped him for the holodoc, he'd just mumbled something even more indistinct about being sorry, and seeing if he could make it. She growled all over again at the recollection.

Finally she ran through the program herself. She wasn't going to go on at him like some pitiful dependent. When the program was over, and the platform was a wasteland as far as the eyes could see, she grinned fiercely. Much more fun to play on the bad guys' side and win.

Now for Tom Paris. She cleaned up and changed first, using the coldest setting on the shower. Already she could feel her instincts kicking in, urging her to get herself thoroughly fucked. <No, I don't think so. Time to finish that conversation from last night. This time we're both going to find out what he's playing at.>

Tom didn't answer the door, so she overrode it. When she walked in she had to call for lights. She nearly tripped over Tom. He was curled up awkwardly on one side on the floor, maybe two yards from the door. She tried to save herself, but fell, landing heavily on him.

He hurtled to his feet, eyes wide and panicked, falling automatically into a defensive stance, hands up. B'Elanna too was back on her feet, cat-like, hands matching Tom's, glaring at him. Brown eyes held blue, then they both relaxed a little, dropping the poses.

"You scared seven years growth out of me. Why can't you knock like normal people?" he asked sourly.

"Why can't you answer the door when a normal person knocks?" she snapped back.

He suddenly dropped all the hostility, and said, "I'm sorry, B'Elanna. I must have fallen asleep, and forgotten."

"In that order," she nodded cynically.

He looked like he wanted to speak, even opened his mouth a couple of times, but never uttered a word.

"Just get on with it Paris," she said finally, pushing down the resurgent panic.

"With what?" he said, looking far more worried than she did. She took some comfort from that.

"With whatever it is that has you thinking I'm going to kill you."

"No, I don't..."

"Well, you're right. I'm going to kill you anyway for not turning up this evening," she told him matter of factly. "You might as well get all the other terrible confessions out the way before I finish, that way, I can be sure to get it all sorted, and you will only have to die once."

He tried to smile, but it didn't work, something to do with the way he was biting edgily at his lip.

"B'Elanna, I... I don't know how to say this."

She looked away for a moment. <So, this is how it ends,> some distant voice commented from the back of her mind. "You've dumped people before, Paris. It's easy, trust me. I think today's dialogue of choice is, 'we had a great time, and it's not you, it's just I've met someone, and, well, we've really jelled, and I hope we can still be friends.' Been there, done that." Odd, how calm she felt. Like her feelings were turned off, locked behind some titanium gate so far away that their shrieks of pain were only vaguely audible.

"B'Ela, I'm sorry, I didn't know, I thought... " He let his voice trail off, only too clearly not sure what he thought, and apparently hoping she could tell him the answers.

"What, that I didn't know?" she snorted. "It gets to be pretty obvious that your lover's in bed with the wrong person when he's screaming someone else's name in the middle of an orgasm."

"Oh Jesus, B'Ela, I didn't, did I?" She could see the shock and remorse in his eyes. He took a couple of steps forwards and reached a hand to her hair, recoiling as she let her teeth show, just a little. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I was going to tell you, and, but, I only figured it out this evening. How long..."

"Have I known? Since last night." <I'm not helping him out here, I'm not.> "But I've known about Harry's feelings for months. He's kind of transparent when you know what you're looking for." <Okay. I'm pushing things forward. That's what I'm doing. I haven't lost my mind. No, really.>

Tom looked stunned, then his eyes lit. <That was the way he looked at me once,> she thought sadly.

"You mean..."

"Yes. Nice isn't it. Harry loves Tom, Tom loves Harry." <B'Elanna loves Tom, B'Elanna loves Harry. Alas, a does not equal ds by dt.>

"I thought he had fallen for you," Tom confessed, looking guilty and relieved all at once.

<Did you now? Well, well,> she thought speculatively, <Torres, your instincts, as always, are on form. But it hasn't occurred to him yet, has it,> she realised, starting to wonder if there was some hope after all.

She just shrugged though, and said, "Paris, it's you he talks to the whole time, not me. We've barely exchanged a word in two months. Off you go. Never mind me." <Was that too much?> She saw the guilt intensify, <No. Oh I do enjoy twisting the knife. This had better work,> she thought with sudden anxiety.

"B'Elanna, I'm sorry, I never meant to, to hurt you or anything."

Suddenly her temper shortened. "Or 'anything' Paris?" she said dangerously. "What else is included in that? Didn't mean to fuck me? Take advantage of me? Make me fall in love with you? That must have been damned inconvenient, when you go and discover you're fucking not only the wrong person, but the wrong gender. So this was what, Tom? Some kind of dare? Let's thaw out the ice woman, see what kind of warp core she's hiding in there? Love 'em and leave 'em. Just a romp in the engine room, and thanx and goodbye B'Elanna, nice having you."

"No! I would never do that to anyone, and certainly not to you, B'Elanna, I love you," his face froze comically when he realised what he'd just said, then he went on valiantly, trying out the words cautiously as he said them, "But I love Harry too, and I need to be with him..." He frowned, thoroughly confused, and looked pleadingly down at her. There was a long pause, and she wondered if he would give up and leave it - and her, there. "I don't know what to do, B'Ela." He held his hands out to her, but she refused to take them, tucking hers behind her back where they couldn't betray her.

"Tom, you have to find your own route out of this. It's no good me suggesting something you don't want. Right now," if she hurried past this she might not notice it hurting, "Right now you say you need Harry. And I think he needs you too." She tried to smile, and found herself in his arms, so glad to feel his body, long and lean and warm against her, his face pressed against the top of her head. She could just make out the words as he whispered into her ear, lips moving almost like kisses on her skin, the breath warm and sweet.

"Sweetheart, oh B'Ela, I'm sorry, I shouldn't be doing this to you, I didn't even realise it for sure till just now, but now it's like a fire in my brain, I spent all day yesterday staring at him, thinking about him, and I never figured it out... How can this be? How can this be? Why can't it be fair? I'm so, so sorry. I'm screwing everything up again aren't I?"

"Don't. Hey, calm down, I know, believe me, I know. Don't beat yourself up over things that can't be helped," she surprised herself by saying, oddly comforted by Tom's pain. His own heart was as divided as hers. Well, at least he could have the joy of loving them both, even if it couldn't yet be all three of them together. But Harry would come around, she was sure. She snuggled against Tom's chest, and wished, harder than for anything in her life, more than escape from her mother, success at Starfleet, the respect of colleagues, that this would work out the way she needed it to. Her grip tightened till Tom could barely breathe. Before he could protest she let go, and looked up at him.

"Take care, Tom."

"But, 'Lanna. I--"

"Hey, you want to see me in tears? Not a pretty sight. Now go away. These things happen. Go love him."

"You're more generous than I deserve," he said, very low, and left, walking slowly, leaving her behind in his quarters.

"Only because," she said after he left, "Only because I'm bloody sure you'll be back. With luck you'll bring him with you. Goddess, let it be so. Let it." And then, she started really crying.

0---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- -----------0

Captain Janeway frowned around the table. As far as she could tell, three of her junior officers, formerly the best of friends, were no longer speaking to each other. The details were still a mystery - Tom for once keeping his mouth closed, and nobody expected B'Elanna to offer personal information, but the two of them, apparently so in love, had broken up.

And then there was Harry. A mystery all by itself, she had watched him withdraw into silent unhappiness over the last six months or so, face a little thinner, eyes a little darker, stance a little wearier. Perhaps it was just the isolation - seeing his two closest friends pair off, the strain of living on their lost ship, waiting for something to come up. A mystery, now all too easily solved. Now, of the three, Tom was miserable, B'Elanna serenely unconcerned, and Harry bizarrely cheerful. In fact, she stifled a grin at the memory of Carey coming to her to say very earnestly, how worried they were in Engineering that the Chief was being too nice and calm for someone in the midst of a relationship breakdown. In retrospect, suddenly a lot of things were clearer, and, of course, it was easy to tell why Harry was happy. She bit back a sigh and the urge to lean over and tell him, discreetly, that his heart was showing at the edges.

But Tom... It looked like he was going to fall apart. His work hadn't suffered - yet, but she was quite sure he wasn't getting the sleep he needed, and the turmoil in his eyes any time he was around either of the other two was almost enough to make her feel faintly seasick. As they went around the table discussing the ship's reports she managed to cobble together some excuse to ask Paris to stay behind after. She really didn't want this getting out of hand. She looked round the three of them. Separately they were fine - pretty much. Put any two of them together though... She shook her head, and caught an amused look from her first officer. By the twinkle in his eye she knew he knew exactly where her mind was - and it wasn't the plasma manifolds that B'Elanna was now lecturing on.

A moment later her mind drifted again as Harry began the weekly Ops report. She had a soft spot for the ensign, her youngest officer when they left DS9 - and how much that had all changed - fresh out of the academy, but turning into the fine officer his tutors had all said he could be. Even if he seemed happier, it wasn't because he had managed to get anywhere with Tom. Instead, he seemed to be letting this whole thing really get to him, she mused as he hesitated and stumbled while relating a joint Ops/Helm project on fine-tuning the navigational arrays. Tom and Harry hadn't spoken to each other outside of work in weeks - although (irritatingly, she felt), they seemed to spend most of their time trailing around after each other. Mooning around, Chakotay had described it as, and she had to agree. They appeared to feel that no-one was aware of their feelings about each other, but it had gotten to the point when even the EMH had joined the pool on when - and if, they'd get together. B'Elanna had definitely drawn the short straw on that relationship. The captain shook her head, again, dragging her mind back to the present. She considered that for a moment. Short straw or no, B'Elanna was doing better than either of the men.

In fact, in some ways, her chief engineer's attitude was the biggest puzzle of the lot. She'd taken being dumped very well. Far better than anyone had expected - Sam Wildman had scooped the pool on how much damage she would do to Paris, by insisting the half-Klingon wouldn't do anything to him. The Doctor, Janeway remembered with amusement, had been quite cross about the number of people who called him, demanding to know if he'd treated Paris and not logged it.

The awful thing was, that they had seemed like such a good pairing - in love, complementing each other's strengths and weaknesses. Then again, there'd been a time, not long after the Maquis had joined her ship when she'd thought there was something between Harry and B'Elanna - all those late nights working engineering. Plus, he was the only person on the ship who she had allowed to use a nickname to her face. <Wrong again, Kathryn,> she told herself ruefully. So what the hell was going on? The strange conversation she had had with her the previous week hadn't clarified things in any way whatsoever either...

/// She had gone into the resort, and spotted her lying back on one of the loungers, looking half awake, and totally relaxed. "B'Elanna?" Janeway hovered by a chair next to the Klingon. "May I?"

"Feel free," she smiled up at the captain.

"Everything well in Engineering?"

"Yes, Ensign Sullivan's cleaning out the warp core, and the EPS's are all working for once. The sensor arrays too," she added, grinning cheerfully, letting her eyes drift closed.

Janeway frowned. Cool. Calm. Relaxed. Letting someone else fix an engine problem? This just wasn't like B'Elanna. "And how are you?"

B'Elanna opened her eyes a fraction, glancing at the captain from under her long dark lashes, and closed them again. A mysterious little smile flitted over her face, so fleet that Janeway couldn't be quite sure she really had seen it. "Oh, I'm fine too."

"B'Elanna," the captain leaned forward, touching a hand to her bare knee. "I hate to interfere in people's personal lives, but I'm concerned about you and--"

"Tom? Don't be. We'll be fine. He's just got some problems to work out."

Janeway's concern deepened. This sounded like more like denial than acceptance of a break-up; almost like B'Elanna was expecting Tom to come back. From what she had heard it wasn't going to happen. In fact, from what she'd observed, Tom was avoiding his ex-girlfriend with the same kind of diligence he had put into pursuing her.

B'Elanna looked up when the captain didn't answer her, and smiled again. It was almost a grin, and Janeway found herself responding to it without understanding why.

"Believe me captain, once he figures out what has been as plain as the nose on his face, he'll be back," the grin widened. "He's just not figured it out completely yet, just as soon as he does, you'll understand." ///

Tuvok's careful report on security matters was in full flow as she snapped back to the present, and she had no idea what had been said by Edwards for biologics. Instead she was still trying to figure out what was going on. Her eyes widened suddenly, as a thought dawned, and she looked from Tom to Harry to B'Elanna. Was that it? This could be very messy. She frowned faintly at her Chief Engineer. Calm, in control and exuding an aura of confidence. The captain nearly choked as she realised that B'Elanna seemed to be organising this whole thing, playing two lines very, very carefully and patiently. <I wonder why she's being so careful? Well, maybe...> she reviewed what she knew of her three recalcitrant crew-members. <But she can't know about Harry's family. Can she?> She considered the security levels on the personnel files, and mentally crossed her eyes. <Okay, if I don't ask, and she doesn't tell me, I can pretend she hasn't ever hacked into supposedly secure, sealed Starfleet databases...> she mused.

Her eyes twinkled and she unintentionally caught B'Elanna's. The young woman looked at her oddly, as well she might, when the captain herself didn't appear to be paying any attention to the (admittedly tedious) staff meeting. Janeway raised a challenging eyebrow, flicking a glance to the two men and back again. The half- Klingon took a quick look around to see if anyone else was paying attention to her, and nodded slightly. <Dear me.> She was hard put to cover her amusement. She flicked a quick glance at the two men again, pressed her lips together firmly to stop the grin, and suppressed a strong desire to cheer. They wouldn't know what had hit them.

After another twenty or so minutes, the meeting wound down and she dismissed everyone except Tom, who sat down again, looking slightly worried.

"Captain?"

"Tom, don't look so frightened, I just wanted to ask you how you were doing."

Paris looked at her in confusion. "Fine captain. What did you...?"

"Lieutenant," she sighed mentally.<How many times am I going to say this before we get home?> she wondered fleetingly. "Lieutenant, I don't normally like to interfere in crew relationships." <Though I'm always willing to make an exception...> His face flushed painfully red as he gathered what she wanted to talk about. "But I would prefer my officers to at least be on speaking terms with each other." She paused expectantly, but there was no reply. "I understand your difficulties with Lieutenant Torres, but I don't know what has happened between you and Ensign Kim..." Tom's head snapped up to stare at her, skin turning as white as it had been red a moment before. <Aha,> she thought with hidden amusement. "And I don't want to," she went on smoothly. "But I would be grateful if you could all bring yourselves to behave a little more professionally as your relationships change."

"But Captain--" A stern glare silenced him momentarily. "Yes ma'am," he sighed. Then, "But there's no...relationship between myself and Ensign Kim." He looked rather wistful, and Janeway badly wanted to giggle again.

Instead she looked at him blankly, in apparent surprise, and said, "I do beg your pardon Lieutenant. I just assumed that since you'd broken up with Lieutenant Torres you were planning on acting on..." she trailed off, managing to imply both that she knew about his feelings, and that she thought Harry felt the same. He got the point. "Perhaps," she finished off, "you should consider..." They both tried to not to look like they knew how she meant to end the sentence. Tom was scarlet again.

"Dismissed," the Captain had mercy on him, and he fled. She waited till the door hissed shut and frowned. She didn't like interfering, but there were too few people, and too little space on this ship to let these things fester. Sooner or later it could end in flaring up into something messy. With luck, she'd averted that. Now the two men just had to figure the rest out for themselves. B'Elanna didn't need any help there it seemed. Her eyes twinkled as she reviewed her ever-expanding role on the ship. <Matchmaker forsooth.>

0---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------0

<So maybe Harry doesn't want B'Elanna.> Tom drifted slowly back to his quarters. <Gods, that was embarrassing. Like Dad trying to tell me the facts of life, three years after I got laid for the first time...> Inside, he wandered to his bedroom and dropped onto the bed. Tom lay on his side, staring at the pix of B'Elanna and Harry he'd placed on the table. He sighed and sat up to stare out at the star field. The real view outside should be warped into smears of light, but some trickery made it look like they were passing through a normal star field. Perhaps it even bore a resemblance to what was outside, pulsing and glowing in the empty darkness.

He glanced back at the pictures. "If the captain only knew..." <If I only knew...>

"It's easy to love you in here, when you're both somewhere else," he said quietly to the pictured faces, not quite sure who he was addressing. "I do love you, you know. I wish I knew how to fix this... It's so weird."

<Harry's pretty cheerful these days. Maybe I ought to, I don't know, ask him out? Tell him I think I've fallen in love with him? Something. I think he'd say yes. I'm pretty sure he would.> He considered the previous three weeks. He still missed B'Ela, and he felt distinctly awkward about going to Harry, still pining for her. <Better not fall in love any more - I've only got two hands for carrying torches, and they're full already.> He smiled faintly, and let a lone finger stroke at the pictured smiles, B'Elanna, Harry. Harry, B'Elanna.

<I left her for him and he doesn't even know it yet.>

His badge chirped, a welcome interruption. "Kim to Paris." Harry's low voice came over the communicator. "Yeah, Harry?"

"Are you on shift still?"

"Nah. Finished a couple of hours ago."

"Oh, okay. Um, look, I'm down at the resort, and I was wondering if you wanted to come down?" Harry's sounded nervous and unexpectedly shy, endearingly like the green ensign of four years ago.

<What?!> Tom's thought scattered. <Was this it? Was he going to make the first move?>

"Uh, sure. Have you eaten?" He heard himself say, and silently marvelled at how normal his voice sounded.

"Not yet. You?"

"Nah. Well, nothing that I want to remember anyway," he amended, a laugh in his throat.

"Ah, Neelix I presume," Harry chuckled too, and Tom felt his face light up in response. "Look," Harry went on, "Do you want to grab something here? I mean, have dinner together, or something? Or we could go to the Mess Hall. If you'd rather. I think my rations'll stretch to two though, and --"

"Yes."

"-and maybe we could just replicate something and go - we don't have to -- what? Yes?" Tom laughed outright as his words finally sank into Harry.

"I'll see you in five in the resort." He couldn't help the laughter that kept bubbling up.

"I was babbling, wasn't I?" Harry said ruefully. "It's been a long day," he excused himself. "All right - see you in a minute."

"Okay. Paris out." He sat staring at the two pictures for a long moment, then sighed, picked up B'Elanna's and put it away, face down in the bedside cabinet. After a moment's thought he put Harry's away too, next to it, face up.

0---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------0

He found Harry in one of the alcoves, eyes half closed, face turned up to the warm sunlight. Tom stared, a small smile quirking his lips as he caught himself about to drool. <Down boy.>

"Hi Harry."

His eyes opened fully, and he smiled happily up at the pilot. "Tom." He waved at the seats around the alcove's table. "Grab a pew. What do you want to drink? My treat."

"What're you having?"

"Kyssarian fruit juice." He lifted the clear brown liquid for Tom to have a closer look.

"Looks like apple juice," he observed, sniffing at it. He blinked slightly at the rich scent that drifted upwards, and Harry grinned at him.

"Doesn't taste like it though - want to try some?" He held out the glass and Tom took a sip, his hand resting warmly over Harry's to steady the glass. It was oddly rich, somehow making him think of Christmas, a little too sweet for his liking, but nice. He pushed the glass back towards Harry, but his fingers tightened briefly over his friend's as Harry pulled away, before letting him go. Startled, the ensign examined the glass, still held in mid-air by his motionless hand, and then up at Tom, a slow flush of red creeping over neck and ears. He carefully lowered the glass to the table.

Tom cleared his throat, but it was still somehow hoarse sounding. "I'll just have some synthale. Thank you."

Harry blinked, confused for a fraction of a second between his own private longings and the ordinariness of Tom's words.

"Right. synthale. I'll. What do you want to eat? Do you want anything? To eat, that is? Um."

The pilot stared at his friend and a slow, and if he knew it, rather silly grin spread over his face. He hadn't heard babbling like that since he was thirteen and about to ask Jenny Malden out for the summer dance. Beautiful Jenny, troublemaker Tom, and he'd had to ask her, and her friends had all been there, and he couldn't stop talking, hedging the whole thing in case, just in case she said yes - or said no. And she had said yes, and it had gotten worse, and been the best, most embarrassing moment of his life up to that point. Plenty of worse ones later... "How about some cold stuff, then we can pick and choose what we want."

"Sure." Harry pushed his chair back, flinching when it scraped it loudly. He reddened again, and seemed about to say something, then closed his mouth again. "Back in a mo'." He walked away, eyes fixed on Tom until he backed into crewman Ted Berry. Ted picked Harry up off the floor, glanced to where he was looking, snickered and asked Harry if he was all right.

"Just getting some food," Harry assured him, irrelevantly.

Berry coughed, fought a grin, and suggested, kindly, "You could just ask the computer to replicate it to your table. Or ask one of the waitresses to fetch it." His grin widened as he watched the otherwise intelligent ops officer attempt to process thought and watch Tom, all at the same time, and come to a grinding halt.

Finally Harry wrenched his eyes away and discovered that his thought process - and his ability to be embarrassed, instantly kicked back in.

"Thanks, Ted. I'll just..." the sentence ended in a mumble as he backed away to the bar and placed his order. Two minutes later he was unloading plate after plate after bowl onto the table.

"Whoa! Where did all this come from?" Tom asked, amused. "Not that I'm unappreciative, but--"

"I didn't know what you'd want, so I got a little of everything."

"I can see that." He sighed at the flicker of hurt that crossed Harry's painfully open features, and patted the seat next to him in reparation. "Come on. Sit down." When Harry didn't move he teased, "Or is it the power trip on feeling taller for once?"

Harry hesitated, eyes flickering to the seat he had been in, across the table from Tom, to the one at his side, visibly wavered, then retook his former seat, holding Tom's eyes, and so seeing the disappointment in the pale blue.

He froze, then bit his lip. He might be misreading this. He pushed a plate towards Tom, who reached over and casually touched his hand before taking the plate.

"Thanks Har." He started picking through the food, snagging out peppers from the rice salad and crunching on them before scooping fingers-full of the rice onto his plate, swooping to catch the sticky white grains with his mouth before they fell to the table. Harry watched, waiting for something, then shrugged and ate.

"This is good," Tom mumbled a while later through a bread and fruit combination that looked as though it was about to topple into disaster, but never quite did.

"Here. Try some." He held out the finger food to Harry, who hesitated , then took a small bite at one side.

"You barely got anything there. Here." Tom grabbed Harry's hand and wrapped it around his own, then pushed the whole thing towards Harry's mouth.

He obediently opened, and took a mouthful, accidentally nipping one of Tom's fingers in the process.

"Ow!" Harry swallowed hastily.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean--"

Tom lifted his free hand, cutting his friend short in mid-babble. "Don't worry. I guess it's my fault for not adding some meat to the sandwich," he smiled, an odd spark to his eyes.

The younger man smiled back at him. "I guess," he replied.

"Have some more?" Tom offered, holding it out.

Dark brown eyes regarded Tom thoughtfully then smiled. Tom was so riveted by them that he was shocked to feel Harry's lips brush over his fingers on their way to taking another mouthful.

Harry munched slowly, enjoying the odd combination Tom had put together,. As he swallowed the last bit he held out a forkful of sweet halva to Tom.

"Here. Try this. I think you'll like it."

It was a couple of minutes before Tom's jaw unstuck enough for him to answer, and by then, Harry was laughing at the exaggerated contortions the other man had pulled trying to separate his teeth. Tom tried hard to look indignant, but his face kept breaking into a smile at Harry's infectious laughter, until they were both grinning, trying to catch their breath between giggles.

"You could have warned me," Tom groused.

"But you wouldn't've eaten it then."

"Oh, I might have..." he let his voice trail off into silence. "If you asked me..." his voice dropped, and softened.

Harry felt as if his stomach had jumped for his throat - he put a hand on the seat next to him, wondering if it was his imagination, or if the whole shop really had lurched a couple of inches to the left, leaving him somewhere that looked the same, but wasn't.

"Tom?"

Paris stood, and looked down at his bewildered friend. "Let's go for a walk. Computer, run Paris R219." He took a couple of steps and turned. "Har?"

Silently Kim stood and followed.

Tom had added a long cliff walk to the resort program. It ran along the top of the cliff, then drifted down towards the glittering sea, before coming, in a Mobius twist only possible in a holodeck, in a straight line back to the resort.

"This is really good, Tom."

"Thanks." He was pleased - the amount of time he'd put into this - and Harry knew, really knew how difficult it was to get it right. Most of his dates <Except B'Elanna...>a traitor voice whispered, had never appreciated the skill - they'd thought it was clever, or pretty, but Harry - Harry knew. He wouldn't say it if he didn't mean it. He relaxed, a kind of tension in his body vanishing at the hoped for approval. "It's all accessible you know - the woods back there, the sea..."

"Really? Can we get down there?" The smooth golden face lit up with eagerness.

"Sure." He slung a companionable arm over Harry's shoulders and pointed across the bay and to the right a little. "There, see?" Harry squinted, then shook his head.

"There's a path down. It's kind of steep, but it should be okay. I'll show you?" he ended questioningly, tentatively.

Harry shrugged, "The safeties are on - and you can go first," he added with a wicked grin. "At least that way I'll get a reasonably soft landing." His eyes swept down and then up Tom's body, as if measuring him for softness.

"Oh thanks, love you too," Tom retorted, slightly breathless, covering the wash of need that had flooded through him in response to that look. Then he realised what he'd actually said, and stopped dead, thoughts skittering wildly ....<perhaps he'll take it as a joke...it's just a manner of speaking.. oh god I love him...oh god, he knows....oh god, oh godohgodohgodohGod!....>

Harry went on a couple of paces before he really heard what Tom had said and stopped too.

<Do I call him on it?> He wondered, almost rationally, whilst a whole other section of his body was screaming 'jump him! Jump him now. We may never get this chance again!' <But it's just...> His gaze was fixed on Tom's panicky face, eyes wide and wary.

"Tom--"

"Harry --" They spoke at the same moment, then hesitated, both adding, "No, you first." Tom snorted with laughter, and Harry surprised himself by joining in.

"Come on. I want to show you the beach I made."

They started walking, and Harry grinned. "It has the merit of originality, or is that what you say to all the guys?"

Tom sputtered for a moment, then said, "No, Har. Not all of them." The unspoken words 'just you', lingered for a moment as they walked. Their paths seemed peculiarly unsteady as first Harry walked into Tom, dodged away to a 'normal' distance, then Tom bumped, irresistibly, into Harry, apparently dragged together by some invisible thread that was only broken by the muttered 'sorry' 'sorry' as they walked into each other again.

<This is so stupid,> Tom thought irritably at himself, as he bumped into Harry's side yet again. The path was more than wide enough for two - or even three people, so why they... he glanced across, then down. His hand was open, his arm swinging loosely with each step. Tom took a deep breath, and a long step, and slipped his hand into Harry's.

Long cool fingers wrapped around his hand, and a warm palm curved against his own. He almost stumbled, and caught himself in time. Half a hundred opening sentences ran through his mind --<Ah, Tom, you're holding my hand -- I love you --Tom, are you all right --Maybe he's just being friendly, yeah right that's some kind of friendly -- what does he want -- can he see what he's doing to me? Oh this is nice.>

The last one won out, and he glanced up, shyly, to meet an equally nervous glance back. His eyes fell to the ground for a second, and then he squeezed, gently, and was unexpectedly delighted by a replying pressure. Their fingers moved against each other, twisting and twining until they were palm to palm, interlinked tightly, the only point of contact. They walked like that for some time, silently holding hands, occasionally testing to make sure it was real, to get the other to squeeze back.

0---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- -----------0

It was hours later that they wandered off the resort. Tom walked with Harry back to his quarters. Harry stared silently at the floor for a moment, then waved his hand at his door. "Do you want to--"

Tom smiled. "No, it's late. We'd better get some sleep."

"Oh." He looked for the time. Shift started in just two hours. "Oh." He smiled at Tom, "Okay then. Do you --"

"Can I--" Tom stopped and laughed. "We've got to stop doing that!"

Harry laughed," Yeah. Could save time though. If we already know what each other is going to say."

Tom half smiled, then touched a tentative hand to Harry's cheek. In the four hours they had walked, hand in hand, they'd barely said a word. For a instant he wondered if he had just imagined it all, then felt the warm pressure as Harry leaned into him.

"Say it." Tom dragged his eyes away from Harry's lips, and met his eyes, startled. Harry repeated, "Say it," gently, and Tom nodded agreement.

"Can I kiss you?" It was oddly formal. He'd not asked B'Elanna the first time, just taken it. But this was Harry, who looked like he might cry and burst with joy, all at once, so he asked.

Strange, to kiss someone so close in height after stooping for B'Elanna. Strange too, the shy passivity of Harry's mouth, tongue just tasting delicately at his teeth and tongue, and then shy, and passive, and everything else went away, left behind in flames.

Long arms clasped around him, holding him tightly. He sighed into the soft mouth, and leaned back a little, looking into hazy brown eyes. "Harry-love?"

"Mm?" He rested his head in Tom's shoulder.

"I've really got to go..." He didn't want to, but didn't want to stay either, in case the whole sweet romance broke, and he was left with nothing at all.

A contented hum buzzed against his neck, and nothing more.

"Come on Har. The Captain's already reamed me out once today - if we're not at least a little bit rested on shift..." he murmured persuasively.

"Who'da thunk?" Harry straightened and smiled at his Lieutenant. "Okay. But I'd like to--"

"I know. Me too." They smiled at each other, and hugged.

"Tomorrow? After shift?" Harry asked eagerly. His face fell as Tom shook his head regretfully.

"Promised Seven I'd go over the shuttle specs again."

They both grimaced, but Harry smiled. "Meet me there instead?" He asked nervously.

Tom nodded, extricating himself from Harry's arms. "Look - " he hesitated half turning back from opening the door.

"Tomorrow, Tom," Harry reminded him, happiness bright in his eyes.

He smiled. "Tomorrow then, as soon as I can."

"Night."

"G'night."

0---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------0

Ensign Kim sprawled contentedly under the artificial sunlight of the holodeck resort. The sky was blue, and he was enjoying the peace and quiet. He'd found Tom's sub routine of a tiny deserted beach, far along the walk they had taken the day before, and was lying there, with towel, padd and cool drink. He wriggled his shoulders luxuriously into the towel, his back arching slightly, then settling, feeling the warm sand shifting underneath him, moulding itself to his back. He dropped an arm across his eyes, and settled down to wait. He was fast asleep when Tom found him.

Seven had gone on forever about something that B'Elanna had fixed weeks ago, wanting to know why, and how, and wouldn't this be more efficient? In the end, barely clinging on to his patience, he'd sent her to B'Elanna. Maybe he had been a little short with her, but after all, Harry was waiting for him.

A quick enquiry elicited the information that he was in holodeck one, with the resort running. He hurried to his quarters, changed, then went to meet his almost- lover. He very nearly didn't spot him at first - it didn't occur to him that Harry would run the program that had started things the night before. Finally, he noticed the path winding away from the main resort, and grinned. It took twenty or so minutes quick walking before he'd reached Harry. He'd been walking along, when he had glanced over the edge of the cliff and seen Harry, curled up on a large white towel on the pure white sand. The ensign was just in dark red shorts, the warm tones of his skin glowing in the sunlight. Tom stopped dead, watching for a while, enjoying the view. Then he clambered down the awkward path to the foot of the cliff, and over by his friend. After a moment's hesitation he sat on a corner of the towel, and laid his hand gently on the soft hair, hot under the sunlight, and stroked gently. He wrapped his other arm around his own knees and watched as his hand moved across, smoothing out individual strands into a gleaming cap of night black, soft and beautiful. It was a while before he noticed Harry's eyes were open. He had no idea how long Harry had been awake, and he lifted his hand away hastily.

Harry smiled, and caught his wrist before it could go far. The hot air shimmered and stifled them both in its thick silence. Tom was acutely aware of sand everywhere, of the sounds of the resort somewhere behind them, of the water sloshing about near their feet on this tideless sea. And of Harry's hand wrapped around his wrist. Harry lifted himself onto one elbow and looked seriously at the wrist, then lowered his lips to brush against it. A tiny touch, hardly there at all. Then a cool sensation on the soft inner skin, leaving a tingling behind it. The soft sting of teeth grazing across the pad of his thumb, soothed instantly by a moist lower lip dragged across in its wake. A kiss pressed into the palm of his hand, Harry's hand sliding up from his wrist to hold Tom's palm to his lips. Finally his brain re-engaged, and he turned his hand to hold Harry's. Harry smiled up at Tom, eyes full of happiness, and rubbed his cheek against their joined hands.

"Hi there," he finally said, in a voice rough with sleep.

"Hi." Tom just smiled back down at him, wondering if it was really going to be this simple. He twisted his hand in Harry's to lift Harry's head , and leaned his weight on his other hand as he lowered his lips to brush across Harry's face. Forehead, salty, a little sandy. Eyes, moving under their lids, an odd sensation, lashes tickling at his lips. Nose, down in a line of tiny kisses which stopped at his mouth. Just a light touch, greeted by the faintest of sighs, before their lips brushed against each other again, a little more firmly.

There was a breathless moment of uncertainty before Harry slipped his arms around Tom's shoulders and pulled him down to lie on top of him. Then they were kissing again, wrapped tightly in each other's arms, desperately, as though they had not touched in years instead of waiting only fourteen hours. Tom moaned, and shifted his body until it was flat on top of Harry's, touching every inch of skin possible, undulating, caressing the firm body beneath his own, pushing the ensign's flimsy shorts down off of him. One of Harry's legs wrapped over the backs of his knees, tangling them together, and Harry thrust upwards with his hips, pressing his growing erection into Tom's belly. The touch ran through Tom like wildfire, and he ground his own hips into Harry's, thrusting and rubbing against each other till first Harry, then Tom cried out in ecstasy, coming against each other.

Tom hadn't even managed to get out of his clothes.

They woke up tangled together some time later. Tom retrieved his friend's shorts and handed them to him silently, waiting for Harry to say something. Instead, Harry took them wordlessly and headed down to the water, where he left them just above the water mark. Tom sat back on the towel and watched the pale ass walking away from him appreciatively. He badly wanted to follow, but stayed where he was, uncertain of himself, and of Harry's reaction, and not wanting to push.

Tom shifted uneasily, uncomfortably aware of the stickiness of his rumpled clothing, and even more of the swelling arousal filling his cock as he watched Harry unselfconsciously cleaning himself up, sluicing warm holographic water across his chest and stomach, splashing it over his groin leaving bright droplets on the dark triangle of hair surrounding his cock. He was standing thigh deep in the water, and ducked abruptly, vanishing below the surface. Before Tom could react he reappeared, hair dripping, lying in dark streaks across his crown and forehead. He scrubbed briefly at his eyes, and shook his soaking hair vigorously, casting droplets that sparkled through the hazy air.

He rolled his shoulders, both together, then each one in turn. Then he stretched, hands linked high above his head as he pulled at the kinks in his arm muscles from where Tom had been lying on them. His back arched, pushing his pelvis back and his chest out. Slowly, turning his back to the man on the shore, he bent down, straightening each vertebra in turn, till his face was only just above the water. Then he straightened up, shoulders visibly looser and more relaxed, and smiled back over his shoulder at Tom. Tom was breathing in short gasps, staring wide eyed at his friend.

Harry beckoned to Tom, and Tom scrambled to his feet and down to the water's edge. He stopped for a moment to strip his uniform, and entered the water, wading quickly out to Harry's position.

"Do you have any idea what you were doing to me?" he asked hoarsely as he came up close.

Harry grinned mischievously. "Why Tom, you seem to be rather overheated. Perhaps you need to cool off." And he tackled him, ducked him under the water, and started swimming. Tom re-emerged spluttering and muttering. "Harry Kim, when I get my hands on you..."

"You'll what?" a voice said immediately behind him. A hand caressed his ass for a moment, but even as he turned with hands out to grab his tormentor Harry dived again. Tom reached into the water as he felt a warm body glide past his legs, a touch on his aching erection. His hips jerked convulsively and he nearly lost his balance. He took a hasty step out to sea, the direction he thought Harry had been going. The ground shifted underfoot, and he found himself underwater again. He swam for the surface, wondering where the seabed had gone, took a deep breath and dived himself.

He opened his eyes underwater and looked around. The water was a crystalline turquoise, with the surface a glaring white where the sun's rays bounced off it. Quicksilver fish flitted past, never quite in touching range, and long green threads of water weeds waved lazily in the currents. He twisted slowly looking for Harry, and caught a glimpse of a naked golden body. He swam after it, resurfacing only when he had to, to breathe. On the second such occasion he was treading water, taking deep breaths as his hands sculled back and forth.

He lost his concentration completely when he felt an unexpected pair of hands slide firmly up his legs, from ankles to thighs, pushing them apart, taking up a steady grip. Looking down into the water he saw Harry's head, face up between his legs, eyes meeting his through the distorting water, his shoulders pressing against the backs of Tom's legs. There was a strange sensation that he couldn't identify till the first air bubbles floated up from Harry's pursed lips, then Harry's face disappeared, though he could still feel the scorching brush of his hair floating against the sensitive skin of his inner thighs. A line of bubbles drifted up, tickling from penis to the back of his ass, some rolling along his cleft and running in light touches up his spine all the way to his neck, where they reached the surface and burst. His hands moved frantically in the water, trying to keep himself afloat, unable to reach for the man teasing him so without going under.

The hands on his upper thighs gripped harder for a moment, almost dragging him under, and leaving marks that would darken into bruises in a while, and Harry ran his tongue quickly along Tom's crotch, over his balls, down the length of his penis. Tom cried out, and was cut off midway as his flailing hands could no longer keep him above water, and he went under. He couldn't think or breath, all he could do was feel. Suddenly he realised he was in the air again, there was a strong arm tightly around his chest, towing him back to the land, while the other hand managed a sweeping caress with every stroke. Each kick of Harry's legs beneath him pushed his hips up against Tom's ass, where he could clearly feel the hard jab of an erection.

Tom was moaning rather than breathing by the time Harry tugged him up out of the water. Tom fell to his knees limply. "Harry. My god Harry. You are a bastard. Dear god. There's a word for people like you." Harry crouched next to him and grinned again, a wide heated expression that made Tom feel like he was going to come right there and then.

"Didn't you like it?" he asked disingenuously. Tom growled.

"Like it? Why don't we go somewhere more private and I'll tell you whether I liked it."

Harry's eyes flickered around the deserted bay. "It's pretty private here," he suggested.

"Not private enough," Tom's eyes gleamed wickedly. "Not enough sound proofing..."

Harry swallowed as his smile turned positively evil. "Just how were you planning on getting out of here though?" He rested a hand on Tom's thigh, then slipped his fingers in to grasp Tom's raging erection.

"Don't! I'll commmmmme!" It was too late, Tom was already spurting creamy liquid over Harry's fingers and both their bodies. "Harry," he said in mock annoyance as soon as he caught his breath again. "I had plans for that."

"Oh. Well," Harry said, a thoughtful expression on his face, and slowly licking his fingers clean, "We'll have to get cleaned up again now anyway." His eyes twinkled as he glanced meaningfully at the blue water.

"Oh no. You stay right here. I'll be back in a minute." Tom ran for the water, rinsed himself off - again - and ran back. Harry did the same, and scooped up the discarded shorts to put them back on.

Tom sighed regretfully, and ambled up towards the towel. After a moment Harry caught up with him, and slipped an arm around his waist. They managed to get Tom dressed without too much delay, bundling his stained shorts up in the towel.

"It'll be more comfortable," Harry said firmly, only to blow his cover by adding, "And it'll be quicker undressing you when we get back to your quarters."

"Who said we were going to my quarters?" Tom jibed cheerfully.

"If you don't want to do this we don't have to." Harry's face was suddenly quite serious, and he stepped away out of Tom's personal space.

"Hey! Who gave you permission to move? Come back here. I didn't say that. We can go back to my quarters if you want."

Harry's face lightened, but not completely. "Tom, why?"

"Because they're closer," he answered obtusely.

"Why me? I mean, you had another fight with B'Elanna or something, right? Do you really - I mean, what made you ask --come --um--"

"Course we didn't fight. I'm still standing, aren't I? I'm here, with you, aren't I?" He waited for Harry's nod. "Well then," he finished, dismissing the question. Harry wasn't satisfied with the answer but wasn't about to jeopardise the fulfilment of his daydreams. Especially when B'Elanna, as far as he was concerned, had forfeited any rights to Tom by letting him go. He hadn't known who to be more sorry for - by all accounts Tom did the dumping, but Tom was also the one most visibly suffering, and Harry's sympathies had finally gone to him, but it had been a near run thing.

They made their way back to the lieutenant's quarters, Tom clutching the towel across his front to hide the stains, Harry trotting along beside him, barefoot in just his shorts and robe, loosely belted to conceal his hard-on.

Inside the cabin Harry's arms slid around Tom's waist again, pulling him close. He lifted his face towards Tom's for a kiss, and felt breathless as he met the sparking blue eyes. "You sure about this?" Tom asked, one hand rubbing warmly over the small of Harry's back. Harry pushed forwards and closed the gap between their mouths at the same time in wordless assent.

Tom wrapped both arms tightly around Harry, feeling as though he was drowning again, this time in the flood of sensations Harry was drawing from him. A warm tongue in his mouth, delicately learning the pattern of his teeth, rubbing and caressing his own tongue, running across the inside of his lips and cheeks. He moaned as Harry found a particularly sensitive spot, and Harry brushed over it again. For a moment they struggled against each other, then Tom gained access to the heated wetness of Harry's mouth. His tongue thrust in, licking up to the roof of Harry's mouth, then he pulling back a fraction, biting lightly all along the soft moist lips, feeling them grow hot and swollen under his touch. The whole room hazed out, and he couldn't think, feeling only the rhythmic pressure of Harry's body pushing into his, the hands running through his hair, across his back, down and up. One hand slipping in between them, undoing Tom's top again.

They parted long enough to let Harry pull the clothes half off him, and Harry ducked down to the open shirt, licking in long wet strokes across Tom's abdomen. Tom was caught, half in and half out of the top, arms trapped in the confining material. Harry pushed it up a little further, uncovering the tiny pink nipples. He smiled and nuzzled at one, rubbing a contented cheek against Tom's chest before kissing the taut nubbin with an open-mouthed wet sucking kiss that made Tom's groin ache. His hands were at Tom's waist, undoing, then pushing the pants down, sliding his hands after it down Tom's legs, following the cloth, then back up again, never losing his connection with Tom's chest.

A moan rose from the back of Tom's throat and broke the near silence. He jerked desperately at his wrists, tearing the material in his efforts to get free. Harry began working on the other nipple as Tom broke free. He hastily pulled the top completely off, then pushed his hands inside the robe Harry was wearing to feel bare skin, and grabbed him to pull him upright against Tom.

Harry whimpered as the hands stroked over his chest, slipping round him to pull him close, a hand in his hair tilting his head till they met in another kiss, long and sweet. The robe dropped from Harry's shoulders to the floor unnoticed. Tom moved backwards, bringing Harry with him, until his calves came up against the couch. He pulled Harry off his feet, dropping back onto the couch so that his lover landed on top of him.

"Oof." He gasped as Harry knocked the wind out of him, then layered light kisses down Harry's jaw and neck.

Harry was laughing quietly, "Calm down, hey? I'm not going anywhere."

"Mmmph."

"Huh?"

"Good." Tom reattached his teeth to the side of Harry's neck where he had been making the most of the long curve of flesh and tendon. He spread his legs and wrapped them around Harry's, pushing upwards suggestively against Harry's cock. Harry groaned into Tom's ear, then bit down as a gentle pressure pushed unexpectedly against the opening to his body. He stilled, then tried to relax as the single dry finger pressed carefully into his anus. He stiffened, then, when Tom began thrusting carefully, feeling out the shape of his lover's body, Harry relaxed, moaning again. He turned his head, kissing his way blindly over Tom's face till he found his mouth again, where they met and fused.

Their erections were squashed between their bodies, rubbing in incredible heat against each other as the two men shifted and rubbed against each other. The slickness between their stomachs increased until Tom couldn't stand it. With a quick movement he flipped Harry on his back. A dip between their bodies coated his fingers and cock in their mingled semen, and he pulled Harry's legs around him, settling himself intimately against his friend. He pressed a lubricated finger back inside him, then added a second, gently working them in and out until the muscle stretched, dilating wider.

"Shall I?"

"Oh god. Like you could stop now!" Harry choked out, spreading his legs wider and pushing up with his pelvis. Tom smiled wickedly down at him, and paused.

"I can stop if you want me to?"

"Tom! You can't stop now!"

"Hmm?"

"Please? Oh please Tom, ohhhh," he sighed blissfully as he was penetrated. Tom stopped for a long moment, barely inside Harry, feeling the untried tightness. Then he gently thrust forward a short way, withdrawing a little, and in deeper again. Two steps forward, one back.

"If you knew," Tom was startled to discover Harry could still string words together. "How long, oh, oh, long, I've w-wanted this, Oh please, more," a twist of the hips, but Tom held to his purpose. Steadily, in complete control lest he hurt his lover. The last little movement forward took him right up against Harry's ass, his cock buried snugly inside Harry. Again he paused, feeling Harry shifting slightly beneath him, trying to absorb the new sensations, sending jolting shivers through them both with each tiny change in position.

"Okay?" he whispered tenderly.

"It's like nothing I've ever..." Harry pushed against Tom's hips. "More..."

With a slow smile Tom withdrew almost completely, then slid back in, relishing the feel of the soft internal skin, the double ring of tight muscle massaging his shaft with every movement. "You are just... perfect," he gasped, moving a little faster as Harry's hands brushed across Tom's nipples, gliding over the sweaty skin in long caresses. He leaned forwards kissing a pathway from chest to lips, with a detour to anoint each nipple, tight and swollen with passion, with warm lips and tongue. Their mouths met, and Tom moaned helplessly as Harry's tongue slid into his mouth, plunging rhythmically in time with Tom's steady thrusts into Harry. Then Harry gripped his hips and pulled hard, rocking his own ass upwards at the same time so they met hard in the middle. Tom lost his carefully maintained control and repeated the stroke, slamming into the body below him, watching the brown eyes widen and then close, the tip of a pink tongue licking across his lover's lips, and again, listening to the cries of need, and again and again, barely aware of the hands on his chest, holding, stroking, scratching across his rawly sensitive skin, until he came with a scream, falling into darkness.

Tom woke from pleasant dreams into a fantasy. He could feel a heartbeat, thudding muffled right below his ear, below the soft skin, the cage of bone, matching a beat in his heart that seemed to hold them as one. He turned his head slightly, glancing up the oddly broad, flat chest he was lying on to see the closed eyes and the tousled dark hair. His body was wrapped tightly around Harry's, clutching him with arms and legs, Harry's own arms warm across his back, their bodies close together. He smiled, snuggling his face into his friend's body, sighing happily as the chest beneath him rose and fell in gentle breaths. He felt safe here. This was right, this was what had been missing. But quietly, traitorously, his mind began comparing Harry with B'Elanna.

The difference in their bodies - she was softer, smaller but harder to cuddle nonetheless. And she was a hell of a lot more aggressive in bed. He vaguely wondered whether Harry liked being the more passive partner, or if it was just for the first time. <What I need is more data,> he thought with a chuckle. <Maybe I could persuade him to fuck me next time,> he mused, and felt a tingle in his ass, and his cock stir at the thought. He grinned into Harry's chest when he felt his reaction. <Again? Already? I wonder if I'll have the strength to walk tomorrow?> Which reminded him of B'Elanna again... His mind drifted, and to his horror he realised he was missing her. <She is beautiful,> he thought regretfully. <Not that Harry isn't, but there's something about those ridges, that streak of aggression that just... They've almost got the same eyes if you don't look closely, but I know different, there's something about all that energy that fairly sparks off her, and his eyes are just, oh Harry, I do love you... Her hair's longer than his, but his is softer, I wonder why that is? And she tastes so good when she comes...> He sighed reminiscently, then caught himself. "What the fuck am I doing."

"What's wrong Tom?" Harry's voice said sleepily.

<Oh shit. Go on, get yourself out of this one.> "Nothing. Go back to sleep."

Harry shifted, rolling Tom off of him, and pulling himself to sit up. He winced slightly as he sat on his bruised ass, and smiled widely at Tom before he could start to worry.

"I didn't mean --"

Harry grinned, "Just enough to remember who's been there." He laughed outright as Tom blushed. "Come on Tom, what's wrong. You've been sighing and wheezing like a grampus for the last twenty minutes. Give."

"No, it's nothing."

Harry's eyes darkened. "It's her isn't it."

"No," Tom denied, but Harry's face was sceptical as he waited for Tom to go on. "Harry, I want you."

"That's not the issue, Tom. Is it B'Elanna?"

"I'm here aren't I?"

"Tom." Blue eyes met brown for a long moment, then fell, ashamed. Harry closed his eyes in pain and swallowed back bile. "What was this then?" he asked quietly, all his insecurities and unanswered questions clamouring for attention, led by sick fear that he'd got it wrong. "Some kind of pity fuck? You feeling horny and decided I probably wouldn't say no? How does it feel, Tom? How does it feel to be fucking a substitute for a woman? How hard did you have to pretend before you could get off?" He rolled off the bed and stood by the viewport, staring out into the emptiness of space, holding his arms tightly around his chest, just in case it exploded outwards as his heart broke. "Shall I tell you how it feels from this side?"

"No..."

Harry ignored the short cry of denial. "It feels pretty fucking awful. How could you?" A pair of pained brown eyes met Tom's briefly, before turning away as if he couldn't bear to keep looking. He went on, "But you didn't say anything, so I suppose it's not really your fault. I shouldn't have expected -- And I made the first move." He shrugged, looking so hurt and disappointed. "I should have known better."

"No, no, please, it's not like that." Tom followed him, snagging a sheet and taking a blanket over to Harry, who accepted it wordlessly, wrapping it around his shoulders.

"Then what is it like?" Harry, voice hoarse, turned back to face Tom who bit his lip when he saw the look in his best friend's eyes.

"I don't know." Tom's voice was miserable as he rubbed a hand over his face. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. <I'm just hurting him too now. Oh god, why was I born?>

"You don't know?" Harry's voice became lower and icier. "You don't know who you want? Or who you're fucking?" He grabbed Tom's hand and held it hard against his groin. "This is who you were fucking. Me. Not a woman. Not B'Elanna. Feel this? There's a difference, yes? Figured it out yet? Which of us do you want?" He shoved Tom away and turned back towards the stars, face burning with humiliation and hurt. "You have to make your mind up Tom. You can't change your mind every time you turn around. And you can't have both of us. Maybe you don't really want either of us? Have you thought of that?"

"No," Tom's voice was a low moan.

"You've managed to fuck B'Elanna and me in the space of a month. Well, congratulations. I guess the entertainments of the Delta Quadrant were just not up to the kind of standards a Paris expects, so you made your own. You don't care about a single fucking person apart from yourself do you Tom Paris? I hate you!" Harry was yelling, his back rigid and muscles tensed. "I actually thought... you made me think, made me..." Harry was abruptly silent. Tom went to touch him, then paused warily. He stepped close, placing a cautious hand on Harry's back. Harry jerked away, but not before giving Tom another fleeting glance, long enough for Tom to see the tears. He stayed where he was, near Harry, not quite touching.

"Harry, I don't know what possessed me. You're right, I guess I couldn't help thinking of her," his voice dropped on the last word. "But I do want you. You're no kind of substitute. If I just wanted to get laid, don't you think I'd pick a someone who wouldn't get hurt? Do you really think so little of me that you believe I would try to wreck our friendship just because I was feeling horny?"

Harry shook his head.

"Well then."

"So what was it, Tom?"

The lieutenant shrugged, then felt fingers digging into his shoulders, turning him till he met the unhappy face.

"That's not good enough. Go away, Tom. Go away and don't come back until you've got an answer,"

"Harry, please, no."

"Then give me an answer. Who do you want? If it's me, then let it be me, if it's her, then go away and be with her, and leave me alone."

Tom stared helplessly at his best friend, shaking his head. "I don't know." <Yes, I do, but I'll lose you forever...>

"Then get out," came the implacable reply.

Tom walked painfully across the room, picking up his clothes as he went. He scooped them into a bundle and walked into the main living area to put them on. Once dressed he headed for the door, as it opened he looked back, to see Harry leaning against the bedroom doorway, watching him as if Tom was carrying some vital part of his heart away with him, as if he would not live without it. He took another step, was in the corridor, when, as the door hissed to, he heard a faint choking sound, and in a moment was inside again, scraping through the closing doorway, holding his friend tightly, tucking Harry's head onto his shoulder, and whispering, "Don't cry, don't cry, sweet heart, please don't, I'm not worth it, please don't cry," over and over, his heart tearing with each sob.

"Tom, don't." A pair of hands pushed at him, pushing him away. He let go instantly, keeping his hands on Harry's bare shoulders. "I said..."

"I know. I heard you. Now-- now, will you listen to me. Please?" He didn't even know what he was going to say, but he couldn't let this go on.

"Dear God, where do I begin?" he asked himself softly. He guided them both to the couch and sat them down, pulling Harry into his arms for a moment, until the ensign moved away, large, pained eyes fixed on his friend. Harry curled up cross- legged at the far end of the sofa from Tom, who smiled wryly at him.

"I guess I deserve that." He gave a short laugh when Harry nodded, a small smile appearing briefly on his own face. "I thought I loved B'Elanna, you know."

"So why...?"

"Why am I here? Because," he smiled ruefully at himself, his own confusion, "Because when I decided to tell her I was in love with her, I panicked." He stole a quick glance at Harry, but his expression gave nothing away. "I couldn't think about anything but how much I wanted to talk to you, be with you - love you."

Harry was remarkably calm about it. Tom began to really worry. "I realised that I love you. But, I think I --"

"You love her too." When Tom nodded Harry's lips thinned. "Tom, I won't share. If you want her, then fine, go be with her. If you want me, that's all you get, just me. I'd rather not have you, have you be happy with someone else, than constantly worry over whether you'll be with her or with me tonight. I've seen how that goes, and I can't live like that," his words were gentle and final.

"Harry?" Tom pleaded.

Harry sighed. "Tom, you know I'm an only child."

Confused, Tom nodded.

"My parents left it very late to have me. And after I was born I usually wished that they hadn't bothered," he went on calmly.

"But, I thought?"

"My parents were Sara and Michael Kim, but they weren't a couple. They were two of a trio. Michael had another lover. Kate Letrow, her name was. Is. If they haven't killed each other. Mother hated her, but she lived with us, because that was the only way they could both have him." Harry shrugged.

Tom was staring, open-mouthed.

"It's not, usual. The arrangement they had." Harry's skin was suffused with embarrassment. "I don't usually mention it - it's not worth the hayseed reactions I get," he added, smiling faintly as Tom's jaw closed with a snap. "But it worked, more or less. Until I was born. From then on as far as I can tell all hell broke loose. Or that was Kate's version. She might just have been making trouble. There was always trouble. One or other of them was always agonising over who he loved more, and everything, everything was a point scored for one side or the other. Particularly me. When I showed an aptitude for music, Mother pushed me, proving what a talented son she had had. How much better a partner she was than Kate. I was the ultimate prize, you see - the genetic inheritance that Kate didn't get. So Kate would tutor me, math, physics, English. I finished school two years ahead, went to university, then straight on to the Academy. That was her achievement, not mine, and she rubbed it in every time. It was part of the point scoring.

"They were always afraid, always angry, jealous. Always at each other's throats. Once or twice, they'd gang up on Dad. Not often, and it was usually over him going away so often. If I'd been him, I'd've gone often too. More often they'd gang up on me. Not because they cared about an A-, or a music exam that I didn't pass with highest honours, just got a distinction for, or about my choice of friends, or college, or career, but because it was someone's fault. It was another evidence of how the other had failed with me, had influenced me wrongly so she just wasn't good enough to be part of her family - and by implication, neither was I. They never noticed that bit." Harry tried a smile, and Tom's hand rubbed at his shoulder comfortingly. He lifted his shoulder and pressed his cheek against Tom's hand. Almost absently he added, "If I failed, Sara would yell it was Kate's bad influence, and Kate would scream back that it was Sara's lousy genes, God, how I hated them all."

He turned on the sofa, and looked earnestly at Tom. "I've seen two people in love with a third, all trying to have a relationship. Once, when they were younger, they thought it would work. They didn't mind that they each had a part of my father that the other would never see. They managed to get along together, friends at least. There's old holiday vids, and they all act happy - maybe it was the strain of having a child. I don't know. But I won't repeat their mistake. Living with that kind of hate - poison -- I'm never going to do that to people I love.

"I just can't do it, Tom." He reached across to touch Tom's face briefly, then withdrew as quickly. "Look, I do love you, and right now, I'm angry at B'Elanna. If I don't have you at all, well, I can accept that. One day, I'm sure I'll -- I'll be fine. And if I have you, and you lose B'Elanna, well, maybe you'll be angry at me for a while too. Perhaps she will be too when she finds out, though right now, she seems to be fairly okay about your break-up," he added, with a certain amount of relief. "But believe me, Tom. It's better to be a little angry, right now, and learn to get over it, than to live trapped in somewhere full of jealousy and fear and spite. Love's not about winning. It's just about loving. I want you to be happy. If you try to juggle the two of us you won't be, not in the long run," he shook his head in emphasis, wanting to convey how very much in earnest he was about this. Doing his utmost to convince Tom that this couldn't work the way Tom wanted. <Maybe I'm being selfish, but I'd rather be selfish now than live through that kind of hell again ten, twenty years down the line,> he thought determinedly.

"Har, maybe it would be difficult," Tom moved to kneel on the floor beside Harry, looking up at the stubborn brown eyes, "but we're different people here, not your parents. We'd be going in with our eyes open, hell, with you at our side we'll know the pitfalls, know what to look out for. I want you to be happy too, and," Tom smiled sadly at Harry, "you're not going to be if I choose B'Ela, never mind what you say now. Couldn't you possibly..."

Harry interrupted him before he could carry on. "What do you want - me to be in love with you every other day, and turn it off the rest of the time? Can you see me doing that - can you see B'Elanna doing that? Us taking turns, arguing over who gets your free day this week?"

Defeated, Tom shook his head. There was a solution, he realised now, but it needed something he couldn't give. If Harry loved B'Elanna, the way Tom did, and if she loved him, then perhaps the three of them could find a solution through the mess Tom had created, and Harry had refused to resolve. But it didn't seem remotely possible.

"If I have to chose between you I --" he broke off. He literally couldn't do it. For each point in favour of one, the other had equal merits. Yet, she had given him permission to be with Harry. He looked over at the vulnerable face watching him with anxious intensity. <She seems to be happy enough without me,> he thought sadly, <even if I do miss her unbearably, and Harry looks so utterly lost, sitting there, not even a metre away from me. Proximity,> Tom thought grimly. <What a great way to pick a lover.> His mouth twisted into a grin, <Just as well I'm not sitting near Neelix...>

Harry's eyes were on Tom's face, and his eyes lightened a little when he saw the edges of Tom's mouth curl up into a half smile. He held his breath, hoping desperately, for all his brave words, that Tom would chose him over B'Elanna.

"Harry, if I stay, I'll be just yours," he promised, his eyes sad, like half his heart was dying. <Better that than I hurt you like I hurt B'Ela.>

Harry's face lit up, and he slid forwards off the couch to straddle Tom's knees, leaning against his lover. "Thank you. I love you so much. I promise you I'll never give you any reason to regret this. Thank you." They sat cuddled together like that for a long time, until Harry said, "Come to bed, Tom," smiling at him from where he was snuggled against him , then stood, holding out one hand. Tom smiled back, but made no move to get up.

"Tom?" Harry asked nervously, clearly wondering if Tom was already having second thoughts.

"In a minute." Finally he stood and walked into the bedroom to join Harry. Harry's arms went around him, and he smiled, enjoying the closeness, and let himself sleep. <Maybe some day...> Tom thought drowsily, as he drifted off.

Part two

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Magnificent Seven stories, Sentinel stories, Star Trek Voyager stories, The Ragbag

Page last updated 21:42 28/03/2006.

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