by Lizzie
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DISCLAIMER: Paramount owns all. I own nothing. Alas, as is often the case, they want more from me than I am willing--or able--to give. I'm just taking the boys out for a spin; no need to start whining about infringement of copyright.

This is my version of the much maligned cave story.

Rated R for m/m sex that isn't described in any detail whatsoever (awww) but there's humor! Really, there is!

---

It looked like Earth. The broad blue sky, the rich green grass, the two reddish moons. . . Okay, so it wasn't exactly like Earth. But with the recent dearth of shore leave, no one was inclined to be too picky about where they stopped, and AG-70 (as named by the tired and bored and decidedly uncreative staff of Stellar Cartography) was as good a place as any.

The good ship Voyager had scheduled leave for every crew member (eight hour rotations for every one, and the senior staff could stay for twelve if they wanted), even those who only accepted it under protest.

"I am not under stress!" snapped B'Elanna Torres to the unlucky ensign who'd been sent to inform her she was off duty as of. . . well, now.

"Yes, sir," whimpered the cowering security officer, trying to edge out of her range.

A piece of loose machinery hurtled past his head. "Mommy!" he yelped, taking off at what had to be near warp speed.

"You come back here!" shouted B'Elanna, still intent on terrorizing the young officer, but he was long gone. She shrugged and turned away, ignoring the rest of her engineering staff, who had withdrawn so that they were merely steps from their exit of choice (which, in one panicked noncom's case, was the warp core). A few adjustments to her console later, B'Elanna announced, "Well, I'm going down to the planet. Carey, you have engineering." and left.

Not everyone's reaction was as drastic, of course. In fact, most people were genuinely pleased with this turn of affairs.

"Ah, this is going to be great!" enthused Tom Paris to his best friend, tossing clothing haphazardly into his overnight bag. "Good food, entertainment, pretty girls. . . "

"You realize this is an uninhabited planet?" responded Harry Kim. "Neelix is providing the food, the only entertainment will be watching the night sky, and the pretty girls you see tonight will be the same pretty girls you've seen every night for the past three years."

"Yeah, but something special's going to happen tonight," promised Tom.

"Really? What?" asked Harry, genuinely curious.

"I don't know," Tom responded. Moments later, realizing what a weak answer this was, he added, "But it will! And when it does, I'll be the one laughing at you."

"I'm not laughing," Harry pointed out.

"Well, I will be." With that, the two friends each shouldered their bags and reported to the transporter room.

---

The site the group of vacationing crew beamed down to was lush and green, full of butterfly-like creatures and brilliant flowers.

"And ragweed," gasped out a red-eyed, wheezing ensign, who was waiting to be beamed back up. "Lots of ragweed. They wouldn't let me leave until my eight hours were up."

She then vanished in a haze of blue sparkles, effectively preventing any more conversation, and the party that had just beamed down started their vacation.

"So what do you want to do, guys?" asked B'Elanna, slinging her arms over Tom and Harry's shoulders.

"Well, we had no real plans. . . " began Harry before Tom elbowed him in the ribs. Harry stopped speaking to glare at Tom, but he'd said enough.

"Really?" asked B'Elanna. Without waiting for an answer, she continued, "Good. You can come check out the cave system over there with me."

"Listen, as much fun as that sounds," Tom said, "I really don't think that it's what I wanted to do on my day off."

"Yes, it is," B'Elanna replied threateningly.

"Yes, sir."

---

Two hours later, the three friends were lost in a maze of winding passages and damp rock-hewn caverns.

"And the point of this is?" demanded Tom, who somehow had been stuck with the job of carrying the luggage.

"Shhh," repeated B'Elanna for what had to be the fiftieth time, peering at the readings on her tricorder. "Harry, I want the light over here."

"Yes, B'Elanna," the ensign acknowledged tiredly, turning the beam in her general direction. True, it wasn't as bad as having to lug around all the bags like Tom was doing, but his arm was beginning to cramp and he was bored nearly to tears watching B'Elanna perform obscure calculations on her tricorder.

"You can sit down if you want," B'Elanna offered graciously. "Just keep the light pointed toward me."

"Thank you," Harry replied.

B'Elanna missed the sarcasm.

"Tom, can you spread out one of the tarps?" Harry asked. "The floor's rather damp."

"Coming right up," responded Tom, dropping the pile of baggage to the floor and unrolling one of the bulkier packages. The regulation Starfleet tarpaulin, complete with Federation logo and "Made in Altaria" tag, took up most of the room in the narrow passageway, and the two friends sank down on it eagerly.

"Do you know what the point of this is?" Tom asked Harry quietly.

Harry shrugged in response, answering in as soft a voice as Tom had used. "Dilithium? Paralithium? Cave paintings? I don't know what she's looking for."

"We're going to be here for a while, aren't we." It wasn't a question.

"Yeah." They both sighed, and Harry's flashlight arm dipped.

"Watch it!" exclaimed B'Elanna, moving her tricorder so the display intersected with the flashlight beam.

"Sorry." He didn't sound sorry.

The three of them lapsed into silence again, occasionally broken by B'Elanna murmuring to herself about the readings her tricorder displayed.

"I'm cold," Harry suddenly announced.

"I don't care," snapped B'Elanna in response. Under her breath, she added, "Carry the two, and if we drill here. . . "

"Get out a blanket," Tom suggested. "A big one, because I'm cold too."

"Hush!" B'Elanna snapped at the two of them.

"Did you pack one?" Harry asked Tom in a quieter voice. "All I have is a sleeping bag."

"That'll do. Just unzip it, and we can share."

That was done quickly, and pretty soon the two friends had a warm, flannel lined sleeping bag draped over them.

"It's not big enough. My arm's sticking out," Harry whispered.

"It's fine," Tom replied softly. "Just sit closer to me."

Harry did as Tom suggested, scooting over so that his entire left side was pressed against Tom.

"Would you stop moving the flashlight?" B'Elanna demanded.

"Sorry." Harry moved his arm so the beam pointed in B'Elanna's general direction.

"That's better," B'Elanna said, and continued playing with her tricorder.

Tom whispered to Harry, "If your arm's getting tired, you can prop it up on my shoulder."

"Thank you," Harry responded, taking him up on his offer. The feel of Tom's shoulder, warm and muscular through his uniform sleeve, was profoundly distracting -- not that it really took that much thought to aim a flashlight -- and Harry began rummaging through his bag with his free hand to take his mind off the situation he was in. He hoped this wouldn't become a regular occurrence; he didn't think his nervous system could handle much more of this. He shook his head in mild disbelief. Stuck in a cave, snuggled up to Tom Paris; such was the stuff dreams were made on, and having a crabby Klingon duenna along only served to heighten the surrealism of the whole experience.

"What are you thinking of?" Tom asked quietly. "You've got a funny expression on your face."

"Nothing," Harry replied quickly. Unfortunately, he was blushing while he said it.

"Come on, you can tell me," Tom whispered.

Harry shook his head again and sighed, but he started smiling as he imagined Tom's response. "I was just thinking how suggestive this whole situation is. You know, you and me, wrapped up together in a damp, lonely cave with nothing to do. . . "

"I can think of plenty we can do," Tom replied, almost flippantly. . . almost. There was an oddly intense light in his eyes, and the look he was giving Harry spoke of more than just casual interest.

Now this was treading on new ground. "Anything specific in mind?" Harry asked, trying to retain his nonchalant facade but failing miserably. He switched the flashlight to his other hand so he didn't have to continue resting his arm on Tom's.

"Stop moving the light!" B'Elanna suddenly interrupted, startling Tom and Harry.

"Sorry!" The two jerked apart quickly, even though B'Elanna hadn't turned around and probably wouldn't. It was embarrassing, Tom reflected, how close they'd been to giving in to their hormones right then and there. Was that the word he wanted? Embarrassing? No, actually, he wasn't embarrassed so much as aroused. He glanced at Harry, and saw that his head was turned away and he was again digging through his small bag. He was still flushed, and Tom was inclined to believe that Harry was using the bag as an excuse to avoid looking at Tom.

Tom's hand slid slowly up Harry's arm. "So tell me what you're looking for," Tom suggested, his voice low. He could feel Harry's muscles tense beneath the light pressure of his palm, and he began to knead Harry's arm gently. Who would ever have thought that a cave could be so conducive to seduction?

It was so soft at first that Tom wasn't sure that he had heard it or just imagined it. But then Harry groaned again, just a bit louder, and Tom leaned forward and kissed the nape of Harry's neck, just above where his collar ended.

"Tom?" Harry whispered, feeling the feathery touch of Tom's hands and mouth on him.

"Hmm?" Tom acknowledged, his mouth busy elsewhere.

"Do you--oh!--mmm. . . what are you doing?"

"Tell me to stop and I will."

"Don't stop. Never stop."

"Mmm." The entire exchange had been conducted in little more than a whisper, in order not to disturb B'Elanna, and as they continued, they did their best to remain quiet. Unfortunately, they weren't always successful.

"Ahhh. . . oh. Oh, I like that."

"What about this?"

"Even better. Mmm. . . "

"And this?"

An incoherent moan was his only response, and Tom Paris grinned in the semi-darkness.

"One more time?"

Again the moan, louder this time.

"You like it, hmmm?"

"Yes. . . oh yes, I do."

"Shhh," B'Elanna repeated for the fifty-first time, engrossed in the stream of numbers flashing across her tricorder screen. Neither of them heard her.

"How about. . . this?"

A quick, frantic gasp and a trailing, desperate, "Please. . . " were enough to convince Tom to continue. His hands moved over Harry's body with more determination now, and he and Harry were both working toward a common goal, and they were almost. . . they were almost --

CRASH!

The flashlight slipped from Harry's nerveless fingers at the moment of climax, shattering on the rocky floor.

"Dammit!" B'Elanna exclaimed. "What are you two doing?"

Tom's arms went around Harry, caressing him in the darkness. "Nothing at all, oh chief of engineering."

"Absolutely nothing," Harry assured her, hastily catching his breath as his hand stroked the length of Tom's outstretched leg.

"Then what the hell are you two giggling about?" she demanded suspiciously.

"Nothing," Tom repeated.

"Absolutely nothing," Harry affirmed.

---

End