by Anonymous
---

Archive: PKSP, PKElite, ASC. . . Actually, I'd be in an absolute tizzy if anyone actually liked this enough to archive it somewhere.

Spoilers: "Someone To Watch Over Me", "Bride Of Chaotica", "Non-Sequitur".

Being a cheesy queer girl as I am, I've taken the title of this from a song from the Rodgers and Hammerstein musical "The King and I", called, well. . . "I Have Dreamed." Duh! Well, it's an incredibly romantic song. . . and the other two P/K I'm doing are from "The King and I", too, so you might as well get comfy. Takes place right before "Equinox Part 1".

Bitch: All this trouble for a little P/K? Jeez.

---

I have dreamed that your arms are lovely. . .
I have dreamed what a joy you'll be. . .

---

"Jesus Christ, Har, you suck at this!" Tom Paris crowed triumphantly as he knocked the eight ball smoothly into the pocket he'd been aiming for. "I win again. You're going to be one skinny Minnie in three weeks, what with you owing me all those rations and all!"

"Will you stop gloating? It's so unbecoming," Harry Kim snorted and rolled his eyes at the sight of another display of overweening ego from his best friend. "And besides, I'm out of practice," Harry muttered, but he couldn't hide the self-deprecating grin. "Ever since the Doctor deleted the pool table from Sandrine's program, I've fallen behind."

"Right, and what was your excuse before he deleted it?" Tom asked wryly, and ducked, laughing, as a pool cue swung at his head. Not to be outdone, Tom quickly had Harry in a play-headlock, ruffling his perfect StarFleet issue hair, oblivious to Harry's mock attempts at a struggle and protest.

"I fail to see the challenge in this diversion," a cool, dry, female voice interjected their laughter. "It is far too simple to hold any interest for all but the most puerile of tastes."

Tom's jaw dropped, then he flashed a wide grin. "Oh, you think so, Seven? I'd like to see you give it a try!"

"Yeah, Seven, if it's so easy, let's see you do any better," Harry grinned at her and the Doctor as he smoothed his hair back into place. If he didn't know any better, he could have sworn he saw her roll her eyes as she stood.

"Very well, I shall attempt it myself," she told them. "I have been observing the two of you for several nights, and I believe I have assimilated the conventions of the game to such an extent that I will make for a credible participant. A-- pool shark, if you will." She held out her hand, in a gesture for Tom's pool cue.

"Picked up the lingo, have you?" Tom mused, and handed it to her.

Tom and Harry grinned at each other. There was amusement and a challenge in their friend's steel blue eyes, and a smirk on the face of her holographic escort for the evening. "Affirmative," she replied, and took the cue from Tom.

"Prepare to be humiliated, Ensigns," the Doctor told them gleefully.

Tom huffed in feigned indignation. "We'll just see about that. Unless you cheated and included becoming a 'pool shark' in the social lessons you've been giving her."

"Please!" the Doctor protested. "As though I have nothing better to. . . er. . . " And, catching the two men's meaningful looks at him, he promptly shut up.

Harry, meanwhile, had arranged the balls in their proper order. He had barely moved away from the formation before she was already leaning in, cat-like, taking aim.

"Break a leg," he offered cheerfully, breaking her lean. She merely arched an eyebrow at him before lowering herself fully, her back to the two men.

Tom, of course, had to elbow Harry, wiggling his eyebrows, and throw him a "get-a-load-of- that" look, indicating Seven's lovely and at-attention rear end. The blond man quickly diverted his gaze at the Doctor's pointed "Ahem."

For that instant, Harry Kim wanted to smack Tom Paris. He was not a violent man, not prone to slapping people when they pissed him off or humiliated him, so the fact that he had the urge to do so now was indicative of the extent of his frustration with the pilot. But of course, you laughable twit, Harry thought to himself. Tom doesn't know what he's doing when he says things like that. Tom couldn't possibly know what a bucket of cold water it was for Harry to hear Tom lust after other people-- women, no less. For Harry, it was tantamount to Tom screaming into his face that he would never want Harry, not like that, not as more than a friend.

Friends. Right. Three nights before, Harry had professed his love for Tom, cut open his heart for Tom to see, in the safe haven of Tom's drunken, unconscious stupor. He'd told Tom how, regardless of how many women Tom drooled over, regardless of how hopeless having anything more than this brotherly bond that they seem to share seemed, regardless of any of life's cruel circumstances, Tom would always have Harry's heart. And Harry had nearly had an embolism when Tom had rolled over and said, "Good to know." But he'd kept right on sleeping, hadn't he? And the next day, it was as though absolutely nothing had happened, literally. Harry remembered it through a drunken haze himself, which added to the unreal quality of the evening.

And of course, Harry was good at the facade of brotherly affection for Tom. He'd carefully constructed it for five entire years, on the foolish and overly virtuous hope that maybe, one day, Tom would wake up and smell the proverbial coffee.

And why did Harry continue to do this to himself? As if on cue, Tom elbowed Harry, more subtly this time, and ogled Seven's ass when the Doctor wasn't looking. The pilot might as well have been wearing a sign that said "I'm SO not interested, Harry."

Harry, for his part, pretended to watch Seven's technique intently. Get a hold of yourself, Kim, he thought, and mentally shook himself.

Seven appeared to have a sudden realization and stood. She rubbed chalk over the tip of the cue awkwardly, and Harry almost felt sorry for the mortification she was about to cause herself.

Then. . . Seven's pool cue hit the white ball with a loud clack, and the colored balls went sprawling all over the green felt surface.

One, two, three, four, five. . . then six balls all went into different pockets in quick succession.

Seven faced them, Tom's cue at her side, and threw them an unreadable (but suspiciously satisfied) look. She was doubly pleased when it took them several seconds before they could close their mouths and compose themselves enough to speak.

"Seven, you're a natural!" Harry exclaimed.

"Bullshit!" Tom sputtered good naturedly. "That's beginner's luck! Or-- or you rigged the holoprogram!"

Seven regarded him coolly. "Negative. Such an assertion is frankly offensive, Ensign. You are saying I have cheated, but I have not. You may check the program itself if you please. Or allow for another demonstration."

Three shots later, all the balls were missing from the table, resting comfortably in the bin at knee- level to Tom and Harry.

Tom's mouth worked to find apt words, and finally settled on "I'm speechless."

"C'mon, Seven, how did you do that? Have you been practicing in your free time?" Harry teased, and she rewarded him with the tiniest of smiles.

"I have never attempted this game before tonight," she said, truthfully, and Tom groaned, and buried his face with one hand in mock shame. "It is simple geometry," she further elaborated. "If one can accurately gauge the geometric trajectory necessary to achieve getting the ball into their respective pockets, then all one has to do is apply the necessary amount of force and strike the white ball at the correct angle. I am actually disappointed that I did not get them all in on the first try, but then, I was not fully concentrating. Really, I believe even a child can do it."

"She's right," the Doctor stepped up behind her, and grasped the cue a little higher up from where Seven's hand gripped it. "Would you like to see me demonstrate?"

"No!" Tom and Harry said in unison, both far too quickly, and offered them both apologetic smiles.

"It's getting late," Harry explained, ignoring the smug smirks of bemused satisfaction on Seven's and the Doctor's faces. Tom nodded eagerly, and put his arm around Harry, tugging at Harry's shoulder.

"He's right, we've got early shifts tomorrow," Tom said, too brightly, and began dragging his best friend out of the holodeck.

Doc's face was a mask of confusion. "But don't your shifts start at the same time every--"

But it was too late. The holodeck's doors were already swishing shut behind the pair.

"I believe that was also a demonstration in what you have described as 'wounding the male ego,'" Seven told him, her voice barely containing a laugh.

"Indeed that was, Seven," the Doctor patted her on the shoulder. "You're becoming quite the apt pupil. Care for another waltz?"

"Affirmative."

---

I have dreamed every word you'll whisper
When you're close. . . close to me. . .

---

They tripped over each other and laughed for many yards into the corridors of Voyager.

Tom was the first one to speak, finally letting go of Harry. "Oh, my God, was that mortal or what!"

Harry sighed, getting a hold of himself. "I guess you're right-- I dosuck at pool!" He wiped the tears that had been formed in laughter away, and then burst out with, "I guess everybody but the Borg does!" And they collapsed against the nearest wall in a fit of giggles.

After a long while, the chuckles and snorts died down, and they sat there in the corridor, next to each other, backs against the wall, drained by the laughter. "You have to admit, though, we did get a very nice, up close and personal view for a minute there," Tom said, and smirked lasciviously at Harry.

Harry turned a very serious gaze onto Tom, which sobered the older man up right away. Something unfamiliar-- wasn't it?-- passed over Harry's aquiline features before his eyes were comforting Tom with their usual challenging twinkle.

"B'Elanna's right. You are a pig."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Tom said, and slung an arm around his best friend casually, not noticing how the other man almost imperceptibly flinched. "I'll tell you something, Har. Love is blind. But I am not. Seven is a beautiful woman. And don't tell me you haven't noticed, because I--" and he drew Harry in closer, conspiratorially, "I remember distinctly how a certain Ensign from the Carolinas drooled and frothed at the mouth over Voyager's resident Borgasm for many months." His gaze had been off into the distance, but Tom suddenly pressed his forehead to Harry's, his arm still around his friend. "My memory is long, my friend, so don't you pull the saintly eunuch act on me. " And a slow, sweet grin spread across Tom's features.

Harry's eyes were wide, and his lips were parted ever so slightly. He searched Tom's face for-- something... what? -- and, not finding it, he extracted himself from Tom's grip slowly and stood.

"I've gotta go," he muttered, and turned to walk away with a deliberate pace, away from Tom. It was all he could do to keep himself from breaking out into a jog.

"Hey!" Tom scrambled to catch up to him, and after a few seconds, he did. He more than easily matched strides with the younger man. "Harry, are you OK? Did I say something to piss you off? I was just teasing."

"Nah, you didn't piss me off, Tom," Harry said, keeping his gaze on the corridor ahead of him.

"Oh. . . well, you left so suddenly-- do you want to go hang out at my quarters some more? B'Elanna's pulling an all-nighter in Engineering again."

Harry swallowed down how his heart skipped a beat, and, silently berating himself, he almost sprinted into the turbolift.

"No, thanks," he sang out curtly. But he reached to shut the doors a second too late to prevent Tom from hopping in after him.

He should have known Tom would never let it drop. Pushy little cretin, he was. Within seconds Harry found himself pinned against the curved wall.

"All right, out with it," Tom demanded, almost nose to nose with Harry.

"Out with what?"

"What's going on? Why are you so pissy about what I said about Seven? You know I didn't mean anything by it."

Eyes, Tom remembered his grandmother saying once, were the windows to the soul. Dark almond eyes met challenging blue ones, and for an instant, Tom caught sight of the strangest things in the soul of his best friend in the galaxy.

But then it passed, and Harry grinned easily, if a bit hesitant. "Nothing, man, what's with you? I'm beat. I'm going to my quarters. Is that OK with you, Mommy?"

Tom's grip on Harry's arms loosened, his expression confused as he watched Harry exit the turbolift and begin the trek back to the Kim residence.

---

How you'd look in the glow of evening. . .
I have dreamed, and enjoyed the view. . .

---

"Paris to Kim."

"Kim here. What's up, Tom?"

Quiet on the other end of his comm badge. "You busy?" the cherished tenor asked tentatively.

"Umm. . . I won't be in about fifteen minutes."

"Meet me in Holodeck 2 and we'll grab a drink."

Harry considered this for a moment. "But what about the Delaney Sisters' get together?"

"We can be fashionably late," Tom said dryly.

"Oh. . . Well. . . OK, see you in about fifteen minutes then?"

More silence. How odd for Tom to be pensive. "Sounds great."

---

Harry paused at his reflection in a window to run his fingers through his hair, right before the last stretch of corridor that took him to Holodeck 2.

He made to start walking again, then something in his own reflection made him stop and study it again, his face impassive.

Slowly, he put his two palms up against the window, on either side of the face looking back at him.

"You, my friend, are a fucking idiot," he whispered to the reflection, and hardened his face to mute apathy. Giving himself one more glance of self-contempt, he started on his way again.

Sandrine's again. What a dive. Not at all for the first time, Harry noted how Tom had suffused the holoprogram with a heavy dose of sentimentality. In another time, once, Harry had been to the real Sandrine's, and compared to that, this re-creation was a five-star restaurant. Harry wondered again what the pull was for Tom with this place, and the knowledge of the mystery made something in him stir with affection.

Harry saw the glint of blond almost immediately-- would have been sooner, too, if Tom hadn't been ducked into a dark corner, sipping what was probably synthale, although you never could be sure with Tom on that point.

Tom nearly jumped a foot in his chair when Harry poked him in the back and said, "Hey, buddy."

Tom sighed heavily, and gestured to the seat next to him with his head, which Harry took. After about five minutes of silence, of Tom staring at the wall and sipping his drink, Harry was about ready to explode with curiosity.

"Um, Tom?"

"Mmm?"

"Something on your mind?"

Another burdened sigh. "You could say that."

"Well, jeez, don't keep me in suspense!"

Tom had to chuckle. Harry was the nosiest bastard alive. Still, he took his time answering. "It's. . . B'Elanna."

"B'Elanna? What about her?"

"Do you mind? I'm getting to that," Tom added, and was rewarded by a vintage Sunny Harry Smile. He smiled back wanly. "I don't know, Har. I just don't know."

"About?"

"About me. With B'Elanna."

Harry was glad he was sitting down; otherwise he might have fainted. "Wha--"

"I'm not happy. At least. . . shit, this is going to sound bad." Tom shook his head, not meeting Harry's inquisitive gaze. "I don't think I'm as happy as she is."

Harry hated himself for the way that his heart had sped up with joy. Still, it was all he could do to keep from breaking out into a full-fledged grin.

"That's terrible, Tom," Harry managed. But not for the first time, Tom misunderstood him completely.

"I know, I'm such a jerk," Tom agreed. "She's such a great person. I don't know what's wrong with me. Maybe it's that she's asking for so much from me-- Harry--" he leaned in, his face caught in the lamplight from over head, the picture of incredulity. "She's been talking about getting married. And having kids! That's all we need is to be having screwed up, dysfunctional kids like the two of us!"

"Your kids wouldn't be screwed up or dysfunctional," Harry protested. "You're great with kids. Naomi has a crush on you."

At this, Tom's tension visibly dissipated, and he chuckled. "Hanging out with a kid and raising one are two different things. It's not like I had the picture of a perfect father as a role model. And besides. . . I just don't. . . I don't know if I want to go there, you know?"

"You don't want children?" Harry asked, and wondered if the note of disappointment in his voice had been picked up by Tom.

But of course it hadn't. Good old Tom.

"Yes!" Tom shook his head. "I do want children, in the future sometime, but. . . Harry, we fight all the time. Awful fights, things being thrown and regenerators coming into play, mostly on me. I don't feel right hitting a woman. I know how ridiculous that sounds--"

"It's not ridiculous," Harry said softly, but Tom mostly ignored him.

"But mostly it just ends up with her kicking my ass and making me feel like shit," the blond man went on. He huffed, disgusted with the situation, and added, "Kinda reminds me of home!"

He looked so dejected and confused, Harry thought. It would be OK if I put my hand on his shoulder, right? Wouldn't be too obvious? In the end he decided it wouldn't be, and Tom seemed to be comforted by the gesture.

"I'm sorry," was all Harry could get out.

"It's OK," Tom said miserably. "I just don't. . . would you believe I've never told her I love her?"

The evening, it seemed, was full of surprises for Harry. His hand dropped, and he asked carefully, "Why not?"

"I don't know. I've told myself-- and her-- that it's because I wasn't ready to, or because I was afraid of rejection or. . . a million different excuses." Tom rolled his eyes contemptuously. "But the truth is, I haven't said it because. . . because I don't know if I'd mean it!" He buried his face in his arms on the table, looking very defeated.

Harry patted Tom's shoulder again, and Tom lifted his head, if not his gaze. "It's OK, Tom. You don't-- I mean, if you don't feel it, you don't feel it."

"I don't know what I feel, Har," Tom shook his head, and met his eyes. "I really don't. I care about her, and I'd do anything for her, but. . . aside from the sex-- which is mind-blowing, don't get me wrong--" and he missed Harry's frozen expression, "-- I think I care about her the way I care about. . . Oh, I don't know, the way I care about you."

Think, Kim. He's not telling you what you think he is. THINK. Calm down. "What?" Harry squeaked out.

"You know, like the way you care about a sibling."

That's what you get, Kim, he thought as he mentally kicked himself. That's what you get for being such a fool. "Oh. . . right."

"I'm sorry, Harry, I don't mean to put a damper on your evening, or use you to vent, or anything like that."

"It's OK, it's what I'm here for," Harry mumbled, but as usual, Tom just kept going on without paying attention to the fact that Harry had spoken.

"It's just that you're the only one who would listen to me without saying I'm an asshole."

"Oh," Harry paused thoughtfully, then smirked. "Well, you are an asshole."

Tom was glad to be able to let out a hearty laugh. "Thanks, Har, I knew I could count on you."

"Always, Tom," Harry said, more seriously than he had intended, and a rush of warmth washed over him as he remembered the things he had said to Tom a few evenings before.

A small, odd smile played on Tom's lips as he studied Harry's face. "Yeah. . . I know." Then he added, "Me, too."

Harry smiled at him affectionately. Of course, Tom could never come right out and say, "I want you to know that you can always count on me, too, Harry. . ." All Tom could manage, without threatening the wall of casual indifference he had towards almost everyone, was "Me, too." But Harry knew. . . Harry knew, and Tom knew he would know.

"Well, enough of this mushy crap," Tom said to the sound of his chair scraping against the holographic floor. "The Delaneys and company await. Let's go change into civvies."

"Yeah, I think we're more than fashionably late."

"They'll live."

---

"In these dreams I've loved you so
That by now I think I know
What it's like to be loved by you. . ."

---

"Truth or dare?" Tom asked, laughing. "Why am I suddenly having flashbacks of the Academy?"

"If you had been here on time, you may have been able to think of something else to do," B'Elanna retorted, poking him in the ribs.

"C'mon, Paris, it's all in good fun," Chapman grinned, and draped an arm around Sue Nicoletti, who snuggled in closer.

"Yeah, c'mon, Paris," Harry told him, a perfect imitation of Chapman's tone.

Megan Delaney laughed. "Have a seat before you hurt yourself, Tom," and he sat, wedged between Chapman and B'Elanna on Megan's too-small couch. He grinned absently as Jenny handed him another drink, watching Harry fiddle with the hors d'ouevres.

"OK whose turn was it?" Sue piped up, and several voices answered her.

"Gerron!"

"It's Gerron's turn!"

"Go, Gerron, it's your turn."

Gerron grinned nervously and said, "Um, OK. . . Megan, truth or dare."

"Truth! Truth!" Megan whooped, and there was a round of snickers, and a call of "Chicken!" from her sister.

"Oh. . . shit, I had a dare all planned out." The others laughed louder, and Gerron bit on his lip thoughtfully.

"Oh, hey! I know! Name all the people on Voyager that you've been romantically involved with."

"Uh. . ." Megan threw the circle of friends a quick glance, seeing way too many knowing smirks. "Romantically involved?"

Gerron nodded, pleased with himself. "Yeah, you know, dated, went out with--"

"Screwed!" Jenny piped up, and laughed as she got pummeled by a pillow.

"Oh, well, let's see..." Megan thought. "There was Tom, of course--"

"What? When was this?" B'Elanna demanded of Tom in mock jealousy-- well, maybe half-mock.

Tom angelically studied something suddenly very interesting on the ceiling. "A long time ago," he said quickly.

"It was," Megan agreed, hoping she hadn't just pissed off a half-Klingon.

"Dated, went out with, or screwed?" Sue asked teasingly, pleased with the telling way in which Tom and Megan both turned a slow, bright pink.

No one noticed the way Harry sighed, having heard the complete and tiresome details of that particular saga, from both ends.

"Gerron gets to ask, and he only gets one question," Megan shot back, grinning. "There was Tom, and Dalby-- hey don't look at me like that, we all make mistakes, right?-- and of course that two year thing with Gregor Ayala."

"What WERE you thinking, Sis?" Jenny asked, rolling her eyes.

"I obviously wasn't," Megan laughed. "And. . . well, aside from my huge year long crush on Tuvok, that's basically it."

A murmur of assent, until she added casually, "Oh, and I slept with Sue once."

"What??!" the friends chorused in shock, and got nonplused shrugs from both Megan and Sue in response.

"Wow, and I wasn't invited?" Tom asked, his voice cracking, but added a loud "OOF!" as a half-Klingon elbow jabbed him in the ribs with surprising force.

"Pig," B'Elanna whispered fiercely.

"You're so sexist, Tom," Jenny drawled, and laughed at the picture of innocence his face had become.

"OK, so it's Megan's turn now!" Chapman announced, and reached for another Terellian deviled scrow egg.

"Oh, OK. . . um. . . I pick Tom!"

"What? But I just got here," Tom groaned, and Megan smiled warmly at him.

"That's what you get for opening your big mouth," Megan told him sweetly. "Truth or dare, Paris."

"This is so lame!" the pilot added. "I can't believe this is how we really spend our Friday nights."

"You heard the lady, Paris," B'Elanna told him, and he marveled at how she could look so amused and so malicious at the same time. Great, now he could look forward to another brawl after the party.

He sighed. He didn't want to add any fuel to the fire by saying something else he shouldn't have, so he said quickly, "Dare!"

"Ooh!" Megan tapped her chin in thought, and suddenly grinned. "Well. . . I have a good one, but only if it's all right with B'Elanna."

B'Elanna raised an eyebrow, and asked sardonically, "Is it going to embarrass and/or humiliate the crap out of Tom?"

"Potentially," Megan told her, gifting B'Elanna with a bright smile, which the older woman returned back somewhat.

"I don't like the sound of this," Tom said uneasily, and everyone, of course, ignored him.

"Full speed ahead, Lieutenant," B'Elanna told Megan, not even looking at Tom. He had just mortified her; it was always good to give Tom a taste of his own medicine. She flashed him her evilest smile.

"OK. . ." Megan took a long, delicate hairpin out of her hair, a wooden one from Betazed that had an engraved ivory knob at one end. "Tom, you used to be such a player. Let's see if you've still got it in you. I'm going to put this in the middle of the table, and spin it, and whoever the plain end points to, you have to kiss."

"What? What do you think I am, easy or something? Wait, don't answer that."

Megan gave a light laugh. "And I mean really kiss, tongue and all, fully on the lips, not just a peck on the cheek."

"No way." He glanced at B'Elanna, who looked less than pleased. Shit.

"You have to, you asked for a dare," Gerron said, and joined Megan's giggles.

"What's the matter, Paris, not up for it anymore?" Jenny teased, getting a roll of the eyes from B'Elanna.

What a pair of shallow bimbos, B'Elanna thought, not for the first time. But she'd be damned if she let them imply that being in a relationship with her had deadened Tom Paris to sexual adventure.

"I have no problem with it, as long as the girl it lands on doesn't," she told her boyfriend coolly, pleased with the shock on the man's face.

"Well, it doesn't have to be a girl," Megan said innocently.

"Whoa!" Tom gasped.

"I'm going to use the head," Chapman announced, practically leaping to his feet, and disappeared to the sound of seven snickers.

"OK so, does everyone here agree to kiss Tom if it lands on them?" Megan asked. "Jenny? Sue? B'Elanna, of course you do. . . What about the guys, Gerron, Harry? We're all mature adults here, right?" Gerron shrugged, and Harry threw up his hands in surrender, his gaze transfixed by a mysterious spot in the far corner.

"OK, here goes," Megan said, and snapped her lovely hair pin into a spin.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Tom muttered as he, the sisters, Sue, and Gerron all leaned in intently to watch the path of the hairpin, as though it were the most fascinating thing they'd ever seen.

B'Elanna didn't care, being above such things, and Harry, well. . . Harry was afraid to look. He'd have to watch Tom make out with someone else again. Damn, but the Universe was cruel.

Then slowly, painfully slowly, the hairpin ground to a halt.

Megan shrieked. "Harry! You have to kiss Harry!"

"What?" the two men said in unison, and exchanged matching doubtful, horrified looks.

"Come on! Don't be such a baby!" Megan whined, and burst out into hysterics when Sue added, "I should get my holocamera! I never thought I'd see this in person!"

"Well, Jesus." Tom stood, not looking at Harry. "Try not to get too excited. Come on, Har."

"What?" Harry cried. "You're not actually thinking--"

"What's the big deal? It'll be like kissing your sister," Tom added.

"That's disgusting," Harry growled, dismayed at everyone's amusement.

"Just stand up and take it like a man, Harry," B'Elanna said caustically, and he threw her the patented Harry Kim, Annoyed Ensign look.

"I don't know--"

"If you don't want to, we can spin again--" Tom said, feeling awkward and oddly nervous.

"No, fine, I don't care," Harry said, wondering if he sounded as unconvinced to the others as he did to himself. He stood and faced Tom, letting out a tense breath. "Might as well get this over with."

"You're such a good sport, Harry," Jenny crowed, and he felt like side-kicking her.

Tom finally looked into Harry's eyes, and Harry caught his breath. This was not really happening, Harry told himself. It had to be some freaky dream, or nightmare, or the product of one of his fantasies again. He couldn't really be looking into Tom's sparkling blue eyes, with Tom having every intention to plant an imminent kiss on his lips.

Tom flashed him a small, reassuring smile, and grabbed Harry's hand. They were too far apart to kiss as they were, so Tom tugged at him until Harry had stumbled a couple of steps forward. Then, without warning, Tom leaned in, eyes closed, and pressed his lips against Harry's.

Harry stood there for a moment, frozen, his eyes wide with shock. But it was only for a moment. He recovered quickly and closed his eyes, leaning into the kiss too eagerly as his and Tom's lips parted in synchronicity.

A smooth golden hand made its way to the back of a smooth, golden head, as the kiss turned into something a little more. Harry couldn't help himself-- he could barely think a coherent thought. ho could think straight, with Tom Paris' tongue sliding around enthusiastically in your mouth? And Tom still hadn't let go of Harry's hand, but instead had gripped Harry's shoulder with his other hand, pulling the younger man so close that, with Harry's pressure on the back of his head, they were practically fully pressed against each other.

And still the kiss went on, and on still more. Harry's fingers clutched a pilot's hand and a pilot's hair, respectively, and he thought he might burst from emotion. He explored Tom's mouth with quiet desperation, his eyes still closed, in a last ditch attempt to try to forget that this was for the amusement of their friends only, that they were not alone and Tom finally knew how Harry felt about him, finally, after so many painful years.

On a level of pure instinct, Harry realized it was going to be over very, very soon, so for the last few seconds, he tried to put all the longing in his being into the work his mouth was doing on Tom, as a final effort to maybe, just maybe, get through to him, and have him want Harry to kiss him again.

Within seconds, Tom had broken the kiss, dropped his hands and shot to Megan, "Happy?"

"Ohh, my GOD," Megan exclaimed, her wide-eyed, dazed expression matched by almost everyone else's, even Chapman, who was standing off into the distance. "That was so hot!"

"It was! That was amazing! Did you guys ever, you know--"

"No!" Tom said hastily, and glanced at Harry, who stared at his hands in his lap. "Gods, no, are you crazy?"

"Well that sure looked like--" but Jenny's question was cut off by a look from her sister. They both threw B'Elanna identically apologetic smiles.

"I think I need a cigarette-- and I don't even smoke!" Sue exclaimed, breathless, and the three women and Gerron laughed lasciviously.

Tom grinned lopsidedly, and sat back down, his gaze avoiding both B'Elanna and Harry. Neither of them were looking at him, anyway.

"Oh, well, it's Tom's turn," Chapman reminded them and squeezed back next to Sue.

"Hey, guys, I'm tired, I think I'm going to go back to my quarters," Harry announced, much to everyone's surprise. He'd barely said three words all evening.

"I'm sure Tom wore you out!" Jenny exclaimed, which sent her and her sister into another fit of snickering.

Harry smiled at them a little. "No, I've just got some reports to catch up on, and besides, I don't want to play this any more."

That sobered them up right quick, Harry thought, borrowing slang his mother had been fond of. He left without looking back.

"Well, go, Tom."

Tom didn't realize he had been staring after Harry until he heard Sue's voice. "Huh?" Tom snapped back to attention. "Oh. . . the game. . . hey, I'll be right back, OK? I think Harry's pissed off at me. You know, for that. I'll be right back," he said, planting a kiss on B'Elanna's cold, unyielding cheek.

The silence that embraced them was so loud that the doors' hissing shut seemed loud. All B'Elanna could say through her fury was, "Don't even think it, Delaney. Get a grip."

---

breeeeBOOP.

Ugh. Like he really wanted to see anyone in the sorry mess he was in. Harry sighed and called out, "Who is it?"

"It's me, Tom!"

Harry's heart sank. Why had he even agreed to kiss Tom? Now came the debasing talk they'd have to have, where Harry reassured Tom that he was not at all weirded out by having made out with him in front of all their friends, because, after all, Harry didn't think of Tom that way, either.

"Come in," he called back, sounding morose. But then, getting let down easy while your heart was still pounding in your chest from an amazing kiss is not something anyone looks forward to.

"Hey!" Tom sprang into his quarters the way he always did. "It's so dark in here."

"Computer, raise lights to 70 per-cent." Harry sighed and flopped onto his couch. "Better?"

"Thanks," Tom said sarcastically, and flashed him a warm smile. He sat on the edge of the other side of the couch. "Say, you're not mad at me, are you?"

"No, for what?" Harry asked as casually as he could manage.

"Well, I mean, for back there." Tom blushed, and Harry found himself mentally fawning over how amazing Tom looked when flushed that way.

"Nah, we're both grown ups. It was. . . kinda funny." Right. Freaking hilarious, Kim.

But. . . Harry thought Tom didn't look quite as relieved as he should have. "Oh. Good."

A long, awkward silence. Then-- "Is that all you wanted to know?"

"Umm. . . Yeah, I guess so." Tom searched Harry's inscrutable face, then laughed uneasily. "That was really weird!"

"Really? Why?" Harry met Tom's eyes with a curious challenge.

"Oh. Uh. . . because. . . I don't know, it was strange to kiss you. Especially like. . . well, like that. Jesus. Didn't you think so?"

Harry shrugged, not looking away. "Whatever." Keep it cool, Harry told himself. He buys "cool".

"Will you still respect me in the morning?" Tom fluttered his eyelashes, and leaned into Harry in play flirtation.

"Respect? Who ever said I respected you in the first place?" Harry shot back, a smile playing on his lips, and Tom pretended that an arrow plunged into his heart.

"You wound me, Harry, you really do."

"Yeah, right," Harry snorted. They regarded each other thoughtfully. "What happened to the party?"

"I. . . needed a little breather," Tom grinned, and Harry grinned back. "I'm going back."

"Oh. . . OK."

"I just wanted to check on you, to see if you'd recovered from my having kissed you," Tom laughed, and Harry's heart shattered into a million tiny shards.

"I'm sure I'll get over it," he replied evenly, and Tom sobered up at his friend's tone. "What, Flyboy, why are you looking at me like that?"

"It's nothing," Tom shrugged casually. "But. . ."

"What?"

"I was just wondering if. . . well, hell, did kissing me totally gross you out?"

"What? No, of course not," Harry said, confused.

"Ever kiss a guy before?" Tom asked.

"Is this truth or dare again?"

"Well, HAVE you?"

Harry smiled. His friend was nothing if not incorrigible. "No, you deflowered me."

"Wow."

"And you, Tom Paris, stud of the universe, pilot who's kissed half the crew of Voyager. . . Ever kiss a guy before me?"

Tom laughed dryly. "Sure."

"No way!"

"Uh huh." Tom said his next words a little more carefully. "You're going to die when I tell you this. Once I kissed the Commander."

"You did not!"

"I did. It was during an away mission," Tom went on, looking as though he were going to explode from holding in laughter. "He sucked. Worst kisser I've ever had the displeasure of knowing."

Harry's mouth was hanging agape in shock. "So you kissed him, then what?"

"That's it."

"Are you SURE?" Harry's eyes narrowed.

"Yes. You'd think I'd want to lay that bad a kisser?"

"Well. . . what was so bad about it? I'm shocked! I really am!"

"What are you shocked about? And he sucked because he slobbers and shoves his tongue down your throat. No wonder the Captain never gave him any play. She probably kissed him, too."

"Tom!" Harry let out a laughing whoop at his friend's insubordination, and collapsed into laughter. Tom grinned widely at him and chuckled some, too. "My God, Tom, how am I supposed to keep a straight face on the bridge now?"

Tom shrugged and kept the Cheshire Cat grin on his face. "You didn't answer my question. What's so shocking about it?"

"I don't know, I guess I never pictured you kissing any guys, let alone the Commander."

"Really? And why not?"

"Because you're such a letch when it comes to women," Harry said teasingly, and Tom pretended to be offended. "Did you ever sleep with any guys?" Harry went on, and Tom blushed a little again.

"Hmmm, maybe," Tom said, and smiled apologetically. He didn't have to ask if Harry had, because he knew his friend had been with a grand total of three people his entire life-- his first girlfriend, and Libby, and that weird alien chick Tal.  Holocharacters, he decided quickly, don't count, despite any of the EMH's objections.

"Sorry, I'll stop being nosy."

"It's OK." Tom subconsciously scooted a little closer to Harry with his next question. "So. . . if it didn't make you sick. . . um. . . think I could do it again?"

"What?!!"

"Kiss you, I mean. Shit, never mind."

"Are you fucking hitting on me, Paris?" Harry said, much louder than he thought he had.

"No! Jesus, I'm sorry, calm down. I was just wondering. I'm sorry." Tom ran his fingers through his hair. "Crap. It was just nice, is all. I didn't mean to piss you off.  'm really sorry, Har, I'll never mention it--"

"For God's sake, Tom, shut up for once!" Harry said, giving Tom's shoulder a light shove.

"OK."

More silence, as the two men regarded each other in completely different lights.

"Well?"

"Well, what?"

"About the letting-me-do-it-again thing."

"You have a one track mind, Paris."

"That's why you love me," Tom smiled winningly, and Harry's smile faded.

"I think. . . If you didn't have B'Elanna. . . I maybe might let you."

"Not bad," Tom nodded slowly. "I've done worse."

"Me, too."

"But Harry. . ."

"Yes, Tom?. . ."

The pilot laughed. "What B'Elanna doesn't know. . ."

"Don't." Harry turned away from him. "Don't fuck with me like this, Tom. I'm not sure if I could take it. Please. I'm asking you as your friend. Please, please."

A light went off behind Tom's expression, and it turned nothing but serious. "Oh, Harry." Tom reached up to caress Harry's smooth cheek, and was dismayed at the way the other man winced and turned away. "Oh, no. I didn't-- I didn't know, Harry."

Harry sighed. "I know. Believe me, I know."

"How long have you--"

"It doesn't matter," Harry shrugged dejectedly.

"I think you're amazing, Harry Kim," Tom whispered, afraid to move.

"But, you don't think of me. . ."

"No 'buts', Harry."

He looked up at Tom in surprise.

"I don't know what to think," Tom admitted, then he gave an embarrassed laugh. "About anyone. But I do know that I'm still hot over what just happened in Megan's quarters."

"You are?" Harry asked, not wanting to mention that he had been "hot" since Megan first voiced the idea.

"God, yeah. I'm shocked at myself, frankly."

"I'm shocked at you, too!" Harry paused. "You're just as good a kisser as you're reputed to be."

"You sure?" Tom grinned suggestively.

"No. . ." Harry said, buying his little game. "I can't be sure. I mean, it was only once. Could be, as you told Seven, beginner's luck."

"Ha! I'm no beginner, my friend," Tom shot back, glad to be back into their traditional repartee. "But if you're up to the challenge, you can see for yourself if it was just a fluke or not."

"Hmmm. You mean, like, for scientific purposes? Like Seven and her pool playing?"

"Right. An excursion in data gathering."

"Well, if it's for science..." but Tom's mouth cut off any chance of words escaping his.

And it was amazing, wasn't it? There, suddenly, Voyager disappeared and all was right with the galaxy. It didn't matter how far away from home they were. As long as their lips, teeth and tongues kept sliding against and crushing each other, all was right with every thing. Harry gasped as Tom bit his bottom lip roughly, and savored the pleasure and pain when Tom went back to exploring Harry's tongue with his own.

It was as though their mouths could not get enough of one another. It was as though the two men were trying to devour each other in an act of desperation and hope. Harry knew, for his part, he was trying to do just that. Tom slid his hand up Harry's thigh, and Harry moaned into Tom's mouth. Tom wasted no time in tracing a line just under Harry's jaw line with little sucks and licks, settling on Harry's Adam's apple as Harry shuddered deeply.

"I've. . . I've wanted. . . for so. . ."

"Shhh," Tom whispered, and opened Harry's shirt just two buttons, tracing slow patterns over Harry's lovely collarbone.

Harry could only rub the back of Tom's neck, afraid to do more, for fear that this beautiful dream would shatter. Then Tom made his way to Harry's nipple, where he bit playfully. Harry let out a little cry, and Tom asked, "Are you sure you're OK with me doing this stuff?"

"YES," Harry said, his voice strained. He pulled Tom up to kiss him again, until Tom was almost lying on Harry.... and their hands were all over each other, feeling every curve, every contracted muscle, every nuance of each other's bodies as though they had waited for ever to get the chance.

In a way, they had.

"God. . . I think I'm going to explode, Har," Tom groaned, rubbing his erection gently against Harry's through their clothes. "I'm so turned on that it hurts."

"Mmmph," was all Harry could get out in happy response. "Welcome to my world, Paris."

Tom laughed lightly, and studied Harry's face, not shifting the majority of his weight from on top of Harry. "Why didn't this happen before?"

"Because. . . you were busy chasing everything female that crossed your path."

"And you were chasing all your unattainable women."

"They were," Harry said pointedly, "Unattainable for a purpose."

Tom's smile faded, and he looked at his friend longingly. "You're incredible."

Now it was Harry's turn to smirk. "You don't know the half of it."

Tom growled seductively and attacked Harry's lips with his own again, determined this time not to stop until he knew Harry much, much better.

A little voice nagged at the back of Tom's mind. . . But the party. . . well, shit. They could wait. And no one would suspect a thing.

Not like he cared if they did, just then, anyway.

---

I will love
Being loved by you. . .

~~ from "I Have Dreamed", Lyrics by Oscar Hammerstein

---

End