The BLTS Archive - All I Want for Christmas fifth in the Festive Occasions series by Sasscat Bu-to-y (fitchett@netaccess.co.nz) --- Disclaimer: Paramount own the characters, I just write the stories. Author's Note: This is, I think fifth in my Festive Occasions series. The others are available by e-mail until I update my website (naughty Sasscat!) Feedback: would be greatly appreciated. Especially considering that the moment I finished this story and saved the final version, my disk decided it would be a good time to develop an error. And of course, I didn't discover this until *after* I tried to back it up, so I lost my backup and had to redo the entire story from memory. And then I got in trouble with Dad for staying up so late. So *please* tell me if you like the story! (c) Sasscat Bu-to-y 1998 --- She was in her ready room, as she always was when he spoke to her. She wondered for a moment why that was, then wondered if there was a holiday she'd forgotten between the last one and the upcoming "Mixin'", affectionately named by the crew for its melting pot of holidays. Nothing came to mind, but she wouldn't put it past him to have dredged up something stunningly obscure. "Christmas," Tom supplied, with a mischievous look. "We're already having a Christmas party," Kathryn reminded him. "Well, Christmas, New Year's, Hanukkah, Solstice, Prixin, and a myriad of other celebrations all rolled into one." Tom sat down with the air of one who assumes the seat is his to take, and smiled. "A crew party. I was thinking more along the lines of senior staff." Kathryn nodded thoughtfully. "Among whom we have a hologram, a Borg, a Native American, a Vulcan, a *Talaxian*..." "You forgot Harry," Tom pointed out. "And B'Elanna wants to celebrate Christmas herself so she can do it properly--" "Properly?" Kathryn was confused for a moment, especially considering that Tom was unlikely to skip a single detail in his preparations. "Mass, Communion, all that Catholic stuff." Catholic... Kathryn thought about it for a moment, then her eyes widened. "B'Elanna's a Christian?" "You didn't know?" Tom looked surprised, then shrugged. "She doesn't talk about it much." "So that leaves you and me, and considering our track record with festive occasions..." "Harry will come if Seven comes. And B'Elanna will come if Harry comes--" "Oh, *that's* a brilliant idea," Kathryn said dryly. "B'Elanna and Seven in the same room for an entire evening." "--And Tuvok will come if B'Elanna comes," Tom finished pointedly. "They don't have to talk to each other, just stand in the same room. And Neelix will come if *you* ask him," he added with a smirk, and pretended to duck the look she threw at him. "I think he'd come anyway, though. And B'Elanna probably would if we asked nicely enough. So would Chakotay, come to think of it." "I'm really not in the mood for anything more than a quiet dinner," Kathryn admitted. "If you gave me more than a couple of days' warning..." Tom thought about this for a moment. "Well, what about you, me and B'Elanna? I'm assuming 'quiet' rules out the Doctor, or Neelix, or Seven and B'Elanna together..." She smiled, but shook her head. "I don't think so, Tom. We're already having a crew party--" Tom leaned forward earnestly, resting his elbows on her desk. "Aw, come on, Kath, it'll be nice. When was the last time you and B'Elanna got to spend some real time together?" *Kath*? It sounded... almost natural coming from Tom's lips. But then, a lot of things felt natural from Tom's lips, and not all of them very good ideas. She steeled herself against him and shook her head. "This isn't the best time, Tom..." "You need to relax," he said sternly. He reached across the desk to pull her PADD from her hand, and replaced it with his own hand. "You can't be the Federation's sole Delta Quadrant bureaucrat twenty-four hours a day. It's not healthy, and it irritates the hell out of the rest of us." She slowly slipped her hand from his, feeling it tingle as their fingers trailed along each other. Self-consciously, Tom pulled his hands back into his lap. "I don't know..." She sighed slightly, and rolled her head back for a moment before looking at him. "I'm sure I can recall telling you that we wouldn't have any more parties until next year. Just you, me, and B'Elanna?" "Just us," Tom confirmed with a reassuring smile. "A little food, a few decorations..." He tossed her a sly look. "Your quarters?" Well, if she was going to give in... "In for a penny, in for a pound," she surrendered. "But in that case, *I'll* handle the decorating." Tom laughed, conceding her point. "Catering, too?" he suggested mischievously. He knew damn well what had happened last time she'd tried to cook something, Kathryn thought in amusement, remembering the ill-fated Thanksgiving soy turkey. "The advantage of being a captain in the Delta Quadrant," she said, as if delivering a lecture, "is that I am the one who gets to distribute the replicator rations. So yes, I'll handle the catering, too." "Christmas Eve or Christmas Day?" Tom asked, leaning back in his chair. Kathryn thought about it for a moment, calling up duty schedules and sleeping times. "Christmas Day, twenty hundred hours," she decided. B'Elanna would be just about ready for breakfast. He nodded crisply, businesslike with a suddenness that surprised her. "All right, then." He hesitated, only a slight break to indicate he'd ever been going to say anything else, and said, "I'll let you take the honour of persuading B'Elanna to join us." So he was willing to spend an entire evening with B'Elanna if Kathryn was with them, but not to go himself to invite her. Kathryn sighed inwardly, wondering if things would ever be completely healed between those two. She doubted it. "Fine," she said quietly. "See you on the bridge." Tom studied her for the briefest of moments, probably surprised by her sudden pensiveness. He nodded and stood, old mask firmly in place, then left. =/\= Christmas Day, twenty hundred hours and five minutes precisely. He was late. Damn, damn, damn. He ran a hand through his hair, (he wondered why for a moment; to make sure it was all still there?) and pressed the doorchime. He fidgeted while he waited for the door to open; the door to the captain's quarters, where most crewmembers would never dream of going, and neither had he until those brief five minutes at Halloween. He quickly took the opportunity to examine his clothes for any stray holographic dirt that couldn't possibly exist outside the holodeck anyway, so why the hell was he so damn nervous? And then Kathryn was opening the door, wearing a stunning cream dress that left nothing to the imagination and his mouth on the floor. Actually, it left quite a bit to the imagination, he thought as he pulled his jaw shut with a snap that echoed through the sector, and that was the problem because his imagination was running overtime and he must look so stupid standing here with his mouth aching and his eyes startled. It suddenly occurred to him that he'd moved inside, and B'Elanna was nowhere to be seen. "Where's our chaperone?" he managed, wondering who the hell Kathryn thought she was kidding with that dress. It was dangerously low-cut at the front, even lower at the back, hanging off her shoulders by spaghetti straps that looked like they were going to slide off any minute now and send the whole dress cascading to the floor. Her hair was fluffed into the kind of floating silk that meant she'd brushed it upside down or something equally strange, and oh god, she was wearing high heels... "Engineering," Kathryn sighed. "Something came up with the plasma stream and by then it was too late to cancel the evening so..." she gestured awkwardly around the room, "here we are." "Here we are," Tom agreed, wondering if this felt as much like a date to her as it did to him. He suddenly remembered the silver packages in his arm and thrust one at her shyly. "This is for you." Kathryn took it hesitantly, turning it over and over to find the best place to open it. As it moved it made a slithering sound, like dried leola flakes being poured into a bowl. Tom put the other gift on the cabinet near the door, watching her methodically peel off the wrapping paper, fold it neatly and put it to one side before she opened the blue velvet box. She gasped slightly, just loud enough for him to hear. It was a silver necklace, a chain wrought of thousands of delicate links, overlapping four, sometimes five at a time. Suspended by an intricate silver setting was a single black pearl, the size of a small marble. "It's beautiful," Kathryn breathed, eyes shining. "This must have cost you a fortune in replicator rations." Seeing her so unguarded helped him get his balance back, and he smiled. "You don't expect me to tell you that, do you?" He took the necklace from her, bringing it around her neck: "Let me." It took a moment for him to find the cleverly disguised hook that joined the two ends, but her hair was tickling his face, so when he'd found it and clasped the necklace together, he stepped back. Kathryn turned to smile warmly at him. "It's perfect, Tom. Thank you. I--" She hesitated for a moment, eyes falling, and studied the floor. "I haven't got a present for you yet," she said softly. The red-wrapped parcels on the other end of the cabinet told him she was lying, and she had to know it too. "That's okay," he played along. "Seeing you happy is present enough." She snorted softly and led him to the table, still set for three. He put a hand over his glass as she made to pour him some wine, shaking his head. "Not anymore," he said gently. Kathryn blushed and put the bottle back down. "I'm sorry, I didn't--" "It's okay," Tom interrupted, wanting to change the conversation to a less painful topic. He held out her chair as she sat, and seated himself opposite her. "This is nice." She looked at the array of replicated Christmas foods on the table and nodded. "Try the pie," she suggested. "It's real." "You *cooked*?" Tom asked incredulously. He remembered her asking him for the recipe on Thanksgiving, but he'd never in his wildest dreams expected her to actually try it by herself. "That's right," Kathryn said, a little defensively. "It's apple." "I'm impressed." Tom helped himself to a serving of pie and cut off a piece to put in his mouth. He chewed it expressionlessly for several long moments, then swallowed. "How does it taste?" Kathryn asked anxiously. "It's nice," he said brightly, but he made no move to try another piece. "I'll find out myself if I have to," she reminded him softly. "You can tell me the truth, Tom." He relaxed and pulled a face. "Good, because that is one of the worst pies I've ever tasted. What did you *do* to that recipe?" Kathryn looked hurt. Not very well, though, because she couldn't stop laughing. "You didn't have to put it *quite* that bluntly." "You said you'd taste it yourself," he shrugged. "Can I have some orange juice?" "Of course." She rose hastily, almost knocking her chair over as she moved towards the replicator. "One orange juice." "Charge to Tom Paris," he called quickly, ignoring her dirty look. "Authorisation Paris nine-one-four-eight." "Unable to comply. Insufficient rations in that account." "Serves you right," Kathryn muttered. "Charge to Kathryn Janeway, authorisation pi-one-one-zero." The replicator whirred for a moment, then a glass of orange juice materialised. Kathryn brought it over to him and watched him take a sip. "A word of advice, Tom. If a captain wants to buy you a drink, you'd damn well better let her next time." "I let you this time, too," he said innocently, savouring the coolness of the juice as it slipped down his throat. "Only because your rations ran out," she retorted. Tom didn't bother to reply, but sat and slowly sipped his drink while she watched in companionable silence. She looked thoughtful, and he wondered what was running through her mind. It wasn't until he'd finished almost all his juice, though, that she stood and slowly made her way back to the replicator. He watched with interest, but she was manually entering her commands so he couldn't hear what she was making. "What are you doing?" he asked softly. "Getting your Christmas present," she answered. She hit a final key and the replicator whirred to life, its product still hidden from his view. All he caught was a flash of green as she moved it behind her back. He stood up and, when she didn't object, moved to meet her. His tone feigned polite disinterest, if not very well. "What is it?" She was silent for a moment before producing a mistletoe sprig, leaves perfect and freshly green. She held it between them for a moment before she finally spoke. "Me. For one night." He swore he actually felt his heart stop. The air hung still between them as he tried to believe she'd actually said that, and this wasn't some especially strange hallucination. If anything, it was the look of trepidation on her face as she awaited his answer that convinced him. He hesitantly took the mistletoe, trailing his fingers along it. The leaves pulled towards the stem and snapped back like springs under his touch. "I promised I wouldn't let you take advantage of me," he said quietly, almost to himself. Kathryn said nothing, barely breathing and moving even less. He was supposed to be the strong one. The one who pulled back when either of them moved too far. The one who reminded her of protocol when she forgot the difference in their ranks. She hadn't thought about this, about the possible consequences... If he agreed to this, he'd be letting her down. /Why break the habit of a lifetime?/ It was getting to be his motto. Tom snapped the stem of the mistletoe with a slightly bitter smile. Kathryn tensed, like a nervous doe, until he calmed her with a light hand on her cheek. He kissed her softly, tossing the mistletoe aside. He grew slowly bolder, moving down her neck until he was lapping at the base of her throat, just above the necklace, giving a soft growled purr. Kathryn trembled slightly, breathing, "Tom..." so quietly he thought he might be imagining it. He raised his eyes, then his lips, and helped himself to another, deeper kiss before stepping back to regard her with his head on one side. With a voice approaching childish glee, he decided, "This is going to be the best Christmas *ever*!" --- continued in the sixth story in the Festive Occasions series 'Mixin' Match'