The BLTS Archive - Mixin' Match sixth in the Festive Occasions series by Sasscat Bu-to-y (fitchett@netaccess.co.nz) --- Disclaimer: Paramount own the characters, I just write the stories. The title is a pun on a Voyager festival I created, "Mixin'" (to rhyme with Prixin and because it's a mixture of holidays). The pun only occurred to me later. For us poor Earth-bound creatures, consider it a New Year's story. (c) Sasscat Bu-to-y 1998 --- Two hours into the party, and only then did Kathryn find a brief moment alone; her duties as captain and one of the unofficial hosts of the festival meant she'd been kept busy circulating, serving drinks, pulling down mistletoe, burning Renewal Scrolls, and too many other jobs to count. Finally she found a small lull in the ebullient atmosphere, and leaned against a wall under some pink and purple intertwined streamers to watch the crew. Most were in costume; some had just come off-duty or had to go on soon and were wearing uniform, but they were few and far between. Even Kathryn had dressed up for the occasion; a classic picture-book princess, with a light blue gown and a silvery veil flowing from a tall pointed hat. The sleeves of the gown were white, and the skirts were full and swished when she walked. The bodice was more a midnight blue, and almost velvety to touch - not that, she thought sadly, anyone would be touching it other than herself. She fingered her necklace, the one Tom had given her on Christmas, and told herself irritably to stop being so maudlin. It was a party, for crying out loud - she should be dancing, having fun. She didn't want to have fun. Her solitude was disturbed again when B'Elanna rushed up to her, looking stunning in her costume as an old-fashioned cabin boy, ragged clothing and all. Kathryn would have almost thought Tom had put her up to it, but she didn't think Tom had spoken to either of them since Christmas. She flushed slightly at the memory, and banished it firmly to the back of her mind. That wasn't something she wanted to think about right now. "Captain," B'Elanna said, a little breathlessly, "there you are. Have you seen Harry?" "That way," Kathryn lied mischievously, wondering what would happen when B'Elanna caught up with Seven - the competition, in Torres' eyes, ever since Harry had lost interest in Megan Delaney again. B'Elanna rushed off without another word and Kathryn was reminded of the half-human's abrupt departure on Christmas, after she'd come late to their dinner and found Kathryn and Tom-- Well. No need to go over *that* again. Kathryn blushed even harder and went off in search of something to drink. Half-way to the punch bowl, which she'd seen spiked by at least seven different members of the crew, she caught a glance of Ensign Culhane, still in uniform, dancing with Nicoletti and Ayala. She frowned slightly, but before she could intercept them the group had moved on. Kathryn was about to try and get a better vantage point when Neelix added to her distractions, climbing onto a table and ringing a shrill bell, loud for its size. "May I have your attention please?" he called. Was it that time already? Apparently so. Neelix, looking more than a little flustered, announced the approach of a new year with surprising brevity. Kathryn was willing to bet someone had deliberately made sure he didn't have enough time for a prolonged speech before the countdown. And then the crew chimed in, in chorus, counting down the seconds until the year's change. As the countdown reached five, Kathryn caught sight of Culhane again, and hurriedly set off through the crowd. By one, she'd gotten lost in the mass of chanting bodies, and as the crew erupted around her she sighed, backtracked, and started looking again. In age-old human tradition, most of the ship's couples were celebrating the end of a year with what Kathryn could only call public displays of a little affection and a lot of alcohol. She remembered Tom's lips on hers and muttered savage curses at herself before setting off again to find Culhane. She finally located the three friends near the corner of the room, feeding each other brandy snaps with more than a little brandy in the snaps. Kathryn cleared her throat and they turned to face her guiltily. "At ease," she laughed. "This is a party, isn't it? I was just wondering who was on the bridge," she said pointedly to Culhane. The ensign looked nervous. "Tom Paris said he'd handle it, Captain. He told me to come to the party--" Kathryn was already nodding, heart sinking. "I see. Thank you, Ensign. Lieutenants." She nodded briefly before heading back across the room. So, Tom was avoiding her, was he? That hardly came as a surprise. She'd never expected him to skip the party, though; he'd spent so long convincing her to have it. She glanced around for a moment before deciding the party could do without her for a while, and slipped out the doors, mostly unnoticed. The corridors were deserted as she made her way to the turbolift. The few crew who weren't at the party were either on duty somewhere important, or hiding out in their quarters. Kathryn could see, on reflection, why Tom had chosen the bridge. The bridge seemed larger than usual when she arrived, perhaps because there were ordinarily so many people there. She took a couple of hesitant steps out of the turbolift and stopped. "Hey." Tom was silent for a moment, staring at his console, then nodded formally. "Captain." "*Captain*?" she repeated, suddenly angry. "Dammit, Tom--" She sighed and forced herself to take a breath. "You weren't at the party," she said instead. Tom shrugged slightly. "Someone has to do the dirty work." Kathryn walked down the side of the bridge to join him, kneeling on the floor so that they were face-to-side-of-head. "I haven't seen you all year." That got a laugh out of him, then he smiled sadly. "You shouldn't be here, Kathryn." "Why not?" she demanded, grabbing his arm and spinning him round to face her. He looked at her in surprise as she continued, "You've been ignoring me for a week, shutting out your friends - don't I have a right to worry about you?" "*You* worry about *me*?" he echoed. "What about the other way around? You never think, Kathryn - didn't you see how B'Elanna reacted? If the crew can't follow you, Voyager's as good as dead." Kathryn forced herself to be patient. "B'Elanna only just broke up with you a few months ago," she said softly. "You can't expect her feelings to represent the entire crew's. In any case," she added, forestalling further argument, "I thought we agreed that that was a one-night thing. Any speculation on how the crew may or may not react is irrelevant." She leaned forward, resting her hand on his leg. "Tom, you have nothing to feel guilty about. B'Elanna got a little jealous, we got a little embarrassed, and I got chocolate on my robe-- Scratch that," she decided. "You owe me a new dressing gown; those body paint stains are hell to get out. But other than that, you have *nothing* to feel guilty about." Tom smiled, as she'd hoped he would. "Done. Kathryn--" He cupped her face for a moment, smile softening. "Thank you." "You're welcome," she replied, leaning forward promptingly. Tom took her cue and kissed her, letting his lips play over hers for a moment before putting his tongue to good use. Kathryn moaned slightly. "You don't play fair," she whispered when his lips eased away. "I thought you knew that," he smiled. She smiled back - two could play at this game, and she still had her hand on his leg. She slid it slowly upwards, enjoying the widening of his eyes as his breathing changed. "I don't play fair either," she purred, stroking his thigh through the material of his uniform. "I can tell," he said hoarsely. "Wasn't this supposed to be just a one-night thing?" "I changed my mind," Kathryn muttered. "Two nights." She leaned forward and kissed him again. Tom used one hand to unlace her bodice and tug it open, deactivating the helm controls with the other; both tasks by touch alone. Kathryn heard the sounds and was about to look when Tom lifted her up onto the helm controls, safely unresponsive to her weight. "Um... Tom..." she began nervously. He favoured her with a wicked grin before kissing a breast that was peeking through the open bodice. "Perfect height. Something wrong, Kath?" "It's just... on the bridge..." She was already wavering, and his blinding grin wasn't helping matters. "I'm on duty, Kathryn. You don't expect me to just abandon my post, do you?" Tom smiled innocently, and slid a hand inside her bodice, loosening it further. His logic seemed faultless. She blinked, confused and more than a little distracted by the exploration his hands were taking. "I guess not..." "Good," he breathed, half-standing as he nuzzled her neck. "I want to finish what we started on Christmas, before B'Elanna so rudely interrupted... Computer, record turbolift commands. Notify us if any include 'destination: bridge'." "You think too much," Kathryn muttered. She closed her eyes to slits, purring under his touch. "Full speed ahead, Mister Paris." "Aye aye, ma'am." And Tom began the enjoyable task of inputting his commands into the *very* responsive helm controls. --- continued in the seventh story in the Festive Occasions series 'Epiphany Falling'