The BLTS Archive - No Good Deed, or Stuff and Nonsense
by DangerMom (dangermom@aol.com)

---

Original Release Date: April 2000

No archiving without the consent of the author.  Please keep all
credits and  disclaimers with this story.

This story was written last year in an attempt to break writer's
block. Consider  it set in the same "timeline" as "The Problem With
Paris."  It's an...origin story,  as they say in the superhero
business.  Fluff, mostly, answering a question  raised in "Tsunkatse."

Many, many thanks to Annie for providing the inspiration, and
approving the  title.  There's nothing like incestuous writing, eh?
And apologies to Mr. Binky.  Your time will come.

Feedback most welcome.

Disclaimer:  I'm playing in Paramount's sandbox again.

(c) P. L. Heyes, April 3, 2000.

---

"Hey--hey B'Elanna!  Wait up!"  B'Elanna Torres turned reluctantly and
watched Tom Paris come around the  bend of the corridor, in that easy
long-legged stride he used to get places fast.  She couldn't imagine
why he'd be in such a hurry to catch up with her, though.

Unless, of course, he wanted something.  A favor only she could do for
him,  that he'd wheedle and whine for, the big--

No, no, she wasn't going to call him names, not even in the privacy of
her own  head.  After all, she'd made a promise to Harry that she
would try to be nicer  to the pilot, and not treat him so badly.  It
actually hadn't been as hard as she  expected, even though Paris'
charming side could be so quickly replaced with  his annoying one, and
usually was if they conversed for more than five  minutes.

But Harry had practically begged her to at least act in a friendly
manner  around Tom, so she decided to make the effort once more.  She
leaned  against a bulkhead with folded arms, trying not to look as
disinterested as she  felt.  "Something I can do for you, Paris?" she
asked as he slowed and  stopped by her side.

He gave her that cheery, mega-joule smile he never seemed to tire of
flashing  at people.  "Just give me a minute of your precious time,
Lieutenant," he said.

B'Elanna noticed he had one hand behind his back, as if he were hiding
something from her sight.  Instantly suspicious, she put her hands on
her hips  and took one casual step sideways to put a little distance
between them.  "For  you, Lieutenant, I can spare about thirty
seconds."

The smile faded, and B'Elanna felt the slightest twinge of guilt for
being so  churlish.  But Tom recovered and let his mouth curl into a
smirking grin.  "That's long enough to give you this."  He brought his
hand around and  presented her with a gaily wrapped, slightly lumpy
looking package.

She stared at it.  "What's that?"

"I think it's what's called a 'present'," Tom replied in a slow,
patient voice.

She glared at him.  "What for?"

"I understand you've got a birthday coming up."

B'Elanna nearly screamed in anger.  How the hell did he know that?
Who  could have--would have told him?  Chakotay?  Harry?  She'd
happily kill either  one of them.  Or had the *petaQ* gone snooping in
the data base just to find a  reason to annoy her?  She didn't like
having her birthday acknowledged or  celebrated, and had been very
relieved when her first one on *Voyager* had  gone by almost
unnoticed.  But if Tom Paris knew now, then it was only a  matter of
time before the whole ship knew--

She saw Tom watching her, his eyes intent on hers as he waited for a
reaction.  Quickly she set her lips, unclenched her fists and willed
herself to be  calm.  "What if I do?" she asked, her voice as level as
she could make it.

He smiled, and offered the package again.  "Well, Happy Birthday,
then."

It would be rude to refuse.  Unkind and mean and all the things Harry
had  asked her not to be.  And Tom really had no way of knowing how
she felt  about her birthday.  The least she could do was give him the
benefit of the  doubt and accept the gift.  "Thank you," she said,
taking it from him gingerly.

Tom put his hands behind his back and grinned at her like a
twelve-year-old.  "Open it."

Oh, of course--he wasn't going to make this any easier for her.
Smothering a  sigh, B'Elanna undid the bow and carefully peeled back
the crinkly paper.  Her  fingers encountered something soft and almost
furry.  Pulling back more paper  revealed a beady eye and then she saw
tusks...

It was a targ.  A toy targ.  An object no self-respecting Klingon
parent would  give a child, but one of many that proliferated in shops
and space ports  throughout the Alpha Quadrant, right alongside
darling little stuffed sehlats  and cute, cuddly Capellan power cats
that emitted harmless sparks when  stroked.

The wrapping paper fell to the floor.  B'Elanna stared at the targ.
She'd had  close acquaintance with the real thing--one belonging to a
distant cousin.  The  domesticated ones were fiercely loyal pets, if
raised right, but all targs were  large, smelly and anything but cute.
The little replica in her hands was  sickeningly adorable.  But an
irresistible urge came over her, and she gave it a  gentle squeeze.

The damned thing squeaked.

"Isn't it cute?" Tom asked, beaming at her.

That's when she realized why he'd done this.  To annoy her.
To--to--what was  that phrase she'd once heard Captain Janeway use?
To get her goat.  And  she knew why.  In a staff meeting a week ago,
Tom had asked one of his  typical "I'm-not-stupid-but-I-don't-get-it"
questions when they'd been discussing  a deeply involved technical
matter.  B'Elanna had given him a sharp, impatient  reply, making him
look a lot more ignorant than the question had indicated,  and she
knew that had made him mad.

This was his idea of revenge.  Making a gesture that on the surface
seemed  perfectly nice and innocent, but which was designed to make
her lose her  temper in front of him, just because he could do it.

B'Elanna glanced up from her study of the hapless little targ.  Tom
was still  grinning at her, biding his time, waiting for her outburst.
It occurred to her that  a mere six months ago, she would have gone
over the edge in fury at his  arrogant impudence.  But thanks to
Harry, she'd been making an effort to get  to know Tom Paris just a
little better.  She knew he was capable of truly kind  and courageous
acts.  She'd also learned, with difficulty, how to look past the
little quirks in his nature.  He was simply playing a game with her,
because he  could.

Well, so could she.

B'Elanna Torres was many things, but she wasn't a fool.  And she
certainly  was enough of a woman to know how to handle a man who
labored under the  delusion that he knew almost everything about
women.  She'd also spent two  years at Starfleet Academy, observing
the behavior of females of many  species and dispositions, and over a
year watching some of the female  contingent of *Voyager's* crew
practicing the ancient art of flirting.  B'Elanna  was a quick study.
She knew she could put one over on Tom Paris.

Her hands were still wrapped around the chubby toy.  Tom was obviously
waiting for her to rip it to shreds and start calling him names.  She
could see  the wicked anticipation dancing in his blue eyes.

She squeezed the targ again, and let a tiny smile appear on her face
as it  squeaked in response.  "A targ," she said softly.  "I always
wanted one for a  pet when I was little. My cousin Durko on the
homeworld had one, and I was  so jealous of him."

Tom's eyebrows went up, and his smile twisted into a bewildered frown.
"Really?"

"Uh-huh," B'Elanna acknowledged, not letting her voice get too syrupy.
She  lifted the targ to her face and stroked it against her cheek.
"Oh, he's so soft!  Real targs have rougher hides, of course, but this
is nice."  She held it in front  of her, tilting it this way and that,
studying it.  "You're right," she said, smiling at  Tom.  "He's very
cute."

Tom nodded wordlessly, and she had to bite her tongue so she wouldn't
laugh  out loud.  Hah--she'd rendered him speechless!  She reached out
and patted  his arm, as she'd seen the captain do occasionally.
"Thank you, Tom."

"You're...ah, welcome," he replied, rubbing the back of his neck.
"I'm--glad  you--like it."  It almost came out as a question.  The
look he was giving her  was indescribable.

"Oh, I do," B'Elanna agreed.  She closed her fingers around the targ's
belly in  a way that made its squeak almost sound like a squeal.  "I
think I'll call him..."  She glanced at Tom speculatively.  He smiled
at her uncertainly.  "...Toby."  It  just popped into her head.  She
had no idea where it came from.

"Toby?"

She rubbed her face against Toby's little snout.  "Don't you think
that's a cute  name?"

Tom took a step backwards.  "Umm, very cute."  He took another step.
Obviously, he had no idea how to deal with her in this state.
"Anyway, have a  nice birthday, B'Elanna."  He half-turned and edged
one more step down the  corridor.  "I'm supposed to meet Harry. In the
holodeck. I'll...see you around."  He gave her a pale imitation of his
usual dazzling smile, then walked away.  Quickly.

"Bye, Tom," B'Elanna called after him, waving Toby at his back.
"Thanks  again!"  When he was out of sight around the bend, she sighed
in relief and  sagged against the bulkhead.  At least no one witnessed
their encounter, and  she suspected she wouldn't have to worry that
anyone else would find out  about her upcoming birthday.  Tom would
most likely never, ever tell anyone  what had just happened.

Because no one would ever, ever believe it.

---

Ordinarily, B'Elanna's first impulse would have been to toss Toby into
the  recycler and claim some credits she could put to better use.  But
when she got  to her quarters and held the toy up for further
inspection, she had to admit that  in its own appealing, somewhat
appalling way, the damn thing was...cute.  There was something about
those little shiny eyes.  And after all, it was a gift,  of sorts, and
disposing of gifts was not a very nice thing to do.

One of the last presents B'Elanna had received from her father had
been an  ordinary little stuffed teddy bear.  Her mother had never
outwardly expressed  dislike or disapproval of the toy, but it went
astray during their move from  Kessik to Qo'noS.  B'Elanna, with wise
childhood discretion, had never  questioned the disappearance.  But
somehow, she had always known it wasn't  accidental.

Perhaps Tom's motives hadn't been entirely mean-spirited.  Maybe he
just  thought everyone needed a cuddly, squeaky toy at some point in
their lives.  Or maybe--

Second-guessing Tom Paris was an impossible task.  B'Elanna gave up,
having already granted Toby a reprieve.  Keeping him around would
always  remind her to be wary of Tom's warped sense of humor.

So Toby the Targ took up residence in the bottom drawer of B'Elanna's
dresser, shoved into a corner under various odd bits of clothing she
didn't  wear much.  Keeping him didn't mean she had to look at him all
the time.  Or  that she had to be nice to Tom all the time.

But fate (and maybe even targs) can move in mysterious ways.

---

"Hurry up, Tom. I'm freezing!"

Tom Paris looked over his shoulder and smiled encouragingly at
B'Elanna.  She was curled up in her bed, watching him as he rummaged
through her  dresser.  It was a wonderfully intimate thing to be
doing, considering they'd  been--intimate for only a few weeks.

"You've got two blankets there, you know," he reminded her, searching
through another drawer.

"I'm still cold," she insisted.  "I hate it when we have to resort to
these power  conservation measures."

He glanced at her again.  "At least we don't have to put up with them
as often  as we used to."  The slight decrease in the ship's ambient
temperature wasn't  bothering him too much, even though he only had on
briefs and a tank top.  But it would probably be a good idea to start
keeping some extra clothes in  B'Elanna's quarters.  "Are you sure
you've got a sweatshirt in here?"

B'Elanna frowned and pulled the blankets more snugly around her.
"Yes. Try  the bottom drawer."

Tom knelt down, pulled it open and searched through its contents.  A
colorful  scarf, some odd socks, a silky blouse he'd never seen her
wear--ahh, his  fingers brushed over something bulky and fleecy.  The
sweatshirt.  He  grabbed it and tugged, then nearly fell over in
surprise.

Something in the drawer had squeaked.

"Tom, did you find it yet?"

He pulled out the sweatshirt, and as it cleared the edge of the
drawer, an  object fell out of its folds and landed on the floor.  Two
beady eyes stared up  at him.  "What the hell?"

There was a soft rustling sound, and then B'Elanna was standing beside
him,  with the blankets clutched around her.  "What's the matter?"

Tom held the sweatshirt up.  She snatched it from his hand, letting
the  blankets fall.  But even the delightful sight of her in very
non-regulation bra  and panties, quickly hidden as she donned the
shirt, scarcely took his  attention from the thing still on the floor.

As she pulled up the blankets to wrap around her legs, B'Elanna
followed his  bemused gaze.  "Oh," she said matter-of-factly.  "It's
Toby."

He nodded.  Recognition had finally kicked in.  He reached out
gingerly to put  the targ on its fuzzy feet.  "You kept it," he said,
looking up at B'Elanna in mild  amazement.

Whatever she heard in his voice, she didn't seem to like it.  She
swooped  down and snatched Toby up, tucking him against her side under
a fold of  blanket.  "Of course I kept him," she said sharply.  "He
was a gift."

The circumstances under which he had given this gift came back to Tom,
and  he felt embarrassment flood through him.  He stood up slowly,
unable to look  B'Elanna in the eye.  "Yeah, but..."

She reached out and poked him in the ribs with Toby's snout.  "But
what? It  was a gag gift, and you were only trying to piss me off?"
Smiling smugly, she  poked him again.  "I knew that, Tom."

"Oh."  He remembered how her voice had gone all soft, the delighted
smile  and wide-eyed look she had given him, the gentle way she had
squeezed and  stroked the little targ--and how that totally unexpected
reaction had left him  confused and tongue-tied.  He'd never suspected
that she'd seen through him  so easily, so long ago.  "You put one
over on me, didn't you?" he asked,  feeling hotly embarrassed all over
again.

"You bet I did, Paris," she laughed.

"But--you kept him anyway?"

Now it was B'Elanna's turn to look discomfited.  She nodded slowly,
tucking  Toby under her arm again, almost protectively, before
admitting, "Well, he is  cute, in his own obnoxious little way. He
kind of--grows on you," she added,  with a meaningful look at Tom.
She grabbed his hand and tugged him back to  bed, offering him one of
the blankets as they settled down together.

Toby squeaked in protest as he got trapped between their bodies.  Tom
reached down to rescue him, and placed him at the foot of the bed.
Those  beady eyes seemed to shine gratefully as Tom regarded the toy.
"But--you  keep him hidden in a drawer?"  He thought he knew
why--she'd be  embarrassed if anyone ever saw Toby.

"Not all the time," B'Elanna said slowly.  She was resting against
Tom's  shoulder, and began tracing aimless patterns on his
blanket-covered leg.  "I--uh...take him with me--" she turned her head
slightly, and the rest of the  explanation was muttered into his
chest, so muffled that he didn't quite catch  it.

He sat up and pushed her gently back.  "You what?!"

She glared at him defensively.  "I take him on away missions! I packed
him by  accident one time, and ever since, I just like to take him
along...just  because..."  Her voice trailed off, and she shifted as
far as she could from him  on the narrow bed, crossing her arms
defiantly and not looking at him.

Tom realized she had admitted all she was going to for now, and that
if he  pressed her, it would end badly. The intimacy of their
relationship was still too  fragile and new to go beyond certain
amounts of sharing.  Right now, it was  enough to know that for
whatever reason, B'Elanna thought Toby was special.  That made him
feel a little less guilty about why he'd given her the toy
originally.

He glanced carefully at B'Elanna, then stretched his leg so his toes
were  positioned just under the little targ's front feet.  It only
took a little twitch to  jostle Toby.

B'Elanna caught the movement, and watched warily as he did it again,
making  Toby bounce up and down a few more times.  With her attention
partially  diverted, Tom felt brave enough to make a little confession
of his own.

"I was going to give you something else, you know."

She darted a look at him.  "What do you mean?"

"For a present. I planned to give you something nice."  He kept his
eyes on the  bouncing targ and let it come out in a rush.  "It was
Harry's idea, really. He's  the one who told me you had a birthday
coming up, although he made me  swear I wouldn't tell anyone else.
Then he said it would be nice if I gave you a  present, you know, and
make an effort not to be so obnoxious to you all the  time--"  He
stopped.  B'Elanna was staring at him, open-mouthed.  "What?"

"Nothing."  She shook her head and quickly looked back at Toby.  "Go
on."

"Okay. So I thought, it wouldn't hurt to try. I didn't know whether to
give you  flowers, or a micro-tool kit, but then, there was that staff
meeting."  He was still  bouncing the toy nervously, and it took a
concerted effort to stop.

B'Elanna frowned, and gave a stiff little nod.  "I remember."

Tom rubbed the back of his head, almost sorry he had brought this up.
"Yeah,  well, I didn't particularly feel like being nice after that,
and--you know the rest."

"I know," she agreed softly.  Then to Tom's surprise, she started
chuckling.

"What?"

She put a hand to her head.  "Harry," she said with a sigh.

"What about him?"

B'Elanna rolled her eyes, then turned over so she could cuddle up to
him.  "He  used to tell me not to treat you so badly all the time."

Tom stared at her.  "He what? That little sneak! You don't think he
was trying  to--"

"Play matchmaker?" B'Elanna said with a laugh.  "We'll just have to
ask him  sometime."

"And give him the satisfaction?" Tom protested.  "Not on your life."

She laughed again, and the vibration of her body against his sent
shivers of  pleasure up Tom's spine.  "Even if he was right," he said
with a wicked smile,  rolling over to pin B'Elanna under him.  She
gasped in surprise, then in delight  as his hands worked under the
sweatshirt to caress her skin.  "You really don't  need this to keep
warm, do you, B'Elanna?" he whispered, tugging the shirt  slowly
upwards.

"Not with you around," she purred, arching up to nibble his ear, then
sliding  her tongue teasingly along his jaw.

Tom kissed her hungrily, then reared back so he could get the shirt
off her as  quickly as--

He froze.  Something was wrong.

B'Elanna put a hand on his shoulder and shook him roughly.  "Tom,
what's the  matter? Don't stop now!"

He looked around.  He looked down at the foot of the bed.

It was those little beady eyes, watching them.

"Tom!"

He lashed out with one leg, kicking the blanket into a scrunched heap
that  quickly covered up Toby.  He kicked again, sending the whole
bundle flying off  the bed to land on the floor.  The resulting thump
barely masked a muffled  squeak.

"What was that?" B'Elanna asked, as he resumed kissing her.

"Nothing," he said, intent on keeping her warm.

He'd rescue Toby later.

---

The End