by Lizzie
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DISCLAIMER: Everything belongs to Paramount, except for the song which belongs to ABBA, and the author, who belongs to the dark side. (Oh, you mean I'm supposed to keep quiet about that?) Song lyrics are encased in slashes as always. Rated PG for references to turbolift action. I think it's a weakness of mine.

Another work of sheer, unrelenting genius. If you wish to whack me upside the head for my arrogance, please do so; I'm always appreciative of the finer points of violence. If you want to comment, please do so; I like feedback on my bits o' fluff as much as the next person.

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"I'd like to dedicate this song to someone very special to me--"

"Tom, what the hell are you doing? Dammit, let me off the stage. This is so embarrassing."

"Hush. As I was saying, I want to dedicate this song to the beautiful young man standing beside me. . . Awww, he's blushing."

"Awww," cooed the audience in unison.

Harry glared out into the darkness. "Look, this is bad enough without you guys making fun of me!"

"Come on, Harry. This'll be fun."

"That's what you said the last time."

Tom grinned lasciviously and replied, "But it was fun."

Harry sighed. "Fine. Fine, do whatever you want. Go ahead and sing, but I refuse to participate."

"Isn't he just adorable when he gets mad?"

"Adorable," repeated the audience.

Tom laughed. Harry hid his face in his hands.

Tom, figuring he'd pushed Harry far enough, decided to just get on with what had brought him to the stage. "Computer, music." The computer beeped to signal its understanding, and the opening strains of a familiar song began.

"//Love me or leave me, make your choice but believe me--//"

"You keep this up and I will leave you," muttered Harry, but they both knew it was an empty threat.

Tom carried on with no acknowledgement of the interruption.

"//I love you,
I do, I do, I do, I do, I do.
I can't conceal it, don't you see, can't you feel it?
Don't you too?
I do, I do, I do, I do, I do.//"

"Tom, why are you doing this to me? What have I ever done to you?"

"//Oh, I've been dreaming through my lonely past,
Now I just made it, I found you at last//"

"Is this to publicize our relationship, Tom? Everyone knows about us already! You can't catch a couple making out in the turbolift twelve times in one week and not get the hint!"

Tom leered at Harry at the mention of the turbolift, but showed no sign of stopping.

"//So come on, now let's try it,
I love you, can't deny it
'Cos it's true, I do, I do, I do, I do, I do.//"

Harry sighed and shook his head. "That had better not mean what I think it means. 'Come on now, let's try it.' Geez."

Tom looked over and grinned, the drawn out instrumental solo giving him a chance to catch his breath before starting again.

"//Oh, no hard feelings between you and me
If we can't make it, but just wait and see. . .
So come on, now let's try it, I love you, can't deny it
'Cos it's true, I do, I do, I do, I do, I do.//"

"You're starting to repeat yourself. Does this mean you're almost done?"

"//So love me or leave me, make your choice but believe me,
I love you,
I do, I do, I do, I do, I do.//"

"Yes, yes, I love you too."

"//I can't conceal it, don't you see, can't you feel it?
Don't you too?//"

"Yes, dammit!

//I do, I do, I do, I do, I do!//"

And as the music played on, the two singers disappeared off-stage, presumably to make it thirteen times in one week.

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End