by BGM
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Paramount/Viacom - You own 'em all, greedy sons of *bleep* *bleep*

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Me and you,
And you and me,
No matter how they toss the dice,
It had to be,
The only one for me is you,
And you for me,
So happy together. . .

---

"So Harry, you want to join me for dinner tonight?" Tom Paris asked his friend, clasping a friendly arm around the young ensign's shoulders.

Harry tensed, then flashed him a nervous smile. "Sure Tom. Sandrine's?"

The boyish face of Paris mirrored instant disapproval, injected with just the perfect amount of mocking to make his friend's unease dissipate.

"Ooh I don't know Harry - we've been to Sandrine's virtually every night this week. Wouldn't you like to go somewhere else?"

Well, there it was. Incessant gratitude, being offered over and over.

Harry Kim hadn't noticed this upon their blissful return to Voyager, nearly two weeks ago. He hadn't noticed how Paris seemed closer; how he directed sharper attention to the young ensign, the favours and generosities being given to him by his usually indifferent friend.

Harry sighed. No, he berated himself. Tom had never been indifferent. He had always been a very good friend. But he was now becoming too much of it. Harry knew there was no such thing as being too good of a friend, but the ensign still had a nagging feeling that something wasn't right in the way Paris was treating him. It was no longer equal friendship, it was now a debt being refunded. An imaginary debt.

"Well, it depends Tom," said Harry with a slight nervous smile as they idly walked the length of the corridor. "Where did you have in mind?"

They happened to pause in front of the mess hall and the tall blond man made a face. "Anywhere but here, puh-leaze!" His face relaxed into a cheerful grin and Harry couldn't help but return it.

"Well, I'm up for anything," he said, smiling kindly.

"How 'bout my quarters?" Paris asked, already walking backward in parting -- as though he was somehow nervous to stay around for the answer. He tossed his head at Harry from across the corridor and added aloud, "2000; I'll make us a fabulous dinner."

Harry couldn't resist. "Why Tom Paris, I didn't know you could cook!"

Paris laughed and turned away, waving his hand. "Well, we'll both find out tonight," he said before disappearing inside a turbolift. Harry stared a moment more at the closed doors, his face quickly losing the cheer he'd plastered on. It's not fair, he thought. He's not being fair - I don't deserve that much attention. He squared his shoulders and walked into the mess hall, his thoughts quickly forgotten as his stomach lurched at the smell wafting inside. Still. . . It's better than those bars of. . . whatever stuff the Aquitarians used.

---

When 2000 rolled by, Harry rang Tom's door and waited nervously at the sill. He didn't know why he was suddenly so restless, but his instincts told him something was going to happen tonight. Whether that something was going to prove wonderful or terrifying, Harry had no idea. He only knew that, when Tom opened his doors and stepped aside to allow him within, his life was about to take a significant turn.

"Hi," he smiled, looking past his host to the table laid out. "Well, that's very impressive right there," he said, trying to look serious but failing miserably. "At least you know how to set a table. That's a promising start."

His arm was struck playfully before Tom moved away. "I'm that bad of a cook," he said pleasantly. "Besides, the replicator does most of the work," he added, flashing the younger man a blinding grin.

"Ha, ha," snapped the young man, moving to the shelves lining Paris' wall. He took a moment to admire the portraits and books before a lightly golden hand moved into his field of vision, holding up a sort of appetiser which Harry couldn't immediately identify. He turned to Paris in faint surprise, and met the young man's laughing blue eyes.

"Go ahead, taste it!" he chuckled, bringing the morsel closer to Harry's mouth. The ensign smiled shyly and took a step back just before he reached for the bit of food. He missed the faint look of disappointment on Tom's face as he popped it into his mouth.

"Hmm. . . Oh wow," he praised, nodding. "This is good. . . it's hot but it's good," he said, talking as though he'd eaten a hot potato. He reached for the table where, thankfully, some wine was already poured. He took a sip from his glass and swallowed more correctly.

"You're right, Tom. You're not that bad of a cook," he smiled, taking another sip before placing back his glass. When he looked back, his young features were slightly preoccupied. Paris saw nothing, as he was busy turning back to his replicator.

Then it struck him like a brick wall. He widened his eyes and stalked toward his friend. "Tom! You're using your ration quota. . .?"

"Yeah, why? I can always win some of it back at Sandrine's. . ." he reasoned, genuinely surprised at Harry's reaction. When he moved to complete his order, Kim walked forward and physically prevented him to do so.

Paris looked down at the ensign's hand curled over his wrist, then frowned up to him. "What's wrong?"

"Just stop it," he snapped. "Just stop everything. Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?"

Paris' little-boy innocence got a rise out of the normally serene young ensign. "Tom! Please! Ever since we came back you've done nothing but shower me with attention and gratitude. I don't deserve it!"

Clear blue eyes narrowed in thought as Paris truly appeared to mull over the young man's observation. "If you were offended by it, then why didn't you say anything?"

"Because!" he cried, releasing the wrist but maintaining his position. "I didn't. . . I didn't know what to say. I wasn't offended. . . I was. . ." he struggled for words, finally relaxing his tense shoulders and lowering his dark eyes to the floor. "I didn't want to hurt you."

"Hurt. . ." Paris frowned and curled a finger beneath Harry's chin, lifting the tender face to his level. "What did you think I was trying to do, Harry?"

Confusion crossed the shining darkness of Harry's eyes before he said, "To. . . to repay me? For what I did. . . for what you said I did. . . saving you. . ." He sighed and pulled away. "I don't know, Tom. I don't know what I thought."

"You're still thinking about that time, aren't you? The prison. . ."

"Of course I am!" Harry suddenly barked, aiming his burning gaze into Paris. "Aren't you?"

"I'm trying not to," Tom whispered solemnly, his eyes half-closed in control.

"Well, I'm not. I want to go over every detail of that experience, over and over until I accept it. I don't want to wake up one morning and find out I've become insane because of repressed anger and surfacing memories." He shivered and held his arms tightly, turning away. "I hated that place. I hated the people, the stench. . . and throughout that miserable experience you were there; the only familiar thing that I could cling to. Without you there I would have been broken, Tom. So. . . so don't repay me for saving your life, because I truly believe I was doing it for selfish reasons. And when I tried to kill you. . ." he closed his eyes tightly, letting the tears stream down his smooth cheeks. "I don't even know why you want to be my friend anymore. . ."

"You're right."

Harry frowned, wiped his tears as he looked back. Tom was a lot closer now, looking down at him with a slight smile. "You're right, I don't want to be your friend anymore. Don't you realise what I was trying to do this past week? Obviously my attempts haven't been met with much success if you're acting like this!" His smile grew wider as he cupped the young face with both hands. "I don't want to be just your friend anymore, Harry. I realised that halfway through our ordeal together. I forgot about it when I began to seriously think you were out to kill me, but when we returned. . . when we were okay. . . a feeling I'd associated with the ordeal itself resurfaced, and I found myself thinking more and more of you. You know when you woke me. . . when I told you I was dreaming of the Delaney sisters?"

Harry swallowed hard, nodding numbly as his body began to register what Tom was trying to tell him. A warm tingle spread throughout his limbs, and his face flushed vividly. Still his conscious mind refused to make the assumption. . .

"I was dreaming of you. . . you and me, Harry," he murmured, caressing the ensign's cheek with a thumb as he passed his long fingers into the silky strands of obsidian hair. "And how I'd very much love for us to be that way now. . ."

Harry closed his eyes, swaying lightly at his friend's touch, lightly caressing his face with nimble fingers. And then the emotional exhaustion settled in and he sank slowly to his knees, with Tom following closely.

"Harry. . . Harry," Tom whispered, cooing, comforting as he gathered the young man in his arms. "It's all right."

"But I almost killed you!" Harry protested, his voice muffled against Tom's uniform. "How. . . how can you want me after what I wanted to do? After what I almost did?"

Tom pulled away and shook his head. "You didn't do anything Harry. The implant did. What we were at the end of our stay in that prison weren't us Harry. You know how I know that? Because if I'd been myself, I would have never thrown away your trust like I did."

"Tom. . ."

"Shh," Tom whispered, leaning in and brushing his lips against the sweet, tender flesh of Harry Kim, delighting in the faint salty trace of tears left there. But there were no more tears shining In Harry's eyes now. Just desire and passion, suddenly filling the dark eyes, the youthful mouth suddenly parting for Tom.

Harry gave way to the his friend's questing tongue, but after a moment he thrust his forward as well, exploring the sweet delights of Paris' mouth.

The passion quickly ignited. Tom suddenly broke the kiss and looked up at the ceiling. "Computer, lights off."

"Tom. . ." Harry began to protest, wanting to see his friend in all his glory, when he realised they'd chosen a spot just beneath the wide porthole.

They were bathing in a sea of starlight, and the faint ruddy glow of a distant sun shone on them from the corner of the viewport, basking them in warm light.

"God you're beautiful," Harry whispered, panting as he studied the golden face dance with emotion, the startling blue eyes scouring his own features with loving tenderness. Slowly Paris lowered Harry on the floor, never breaking the visual lock he had on his friend, never for one minute missing the intense hunger rising in the ensign's stare. Wild joy filled his heart, knowing he was giving his love and was getting it from someone else in return.

It was the work of minutes before their uniforms lay in diverse corners of the room. Quite naked now, Harry winced and arched his spine.

Tom frowned in concern and brushed back the unkempt strands of raven hair from the young man's forehead. "What is it?"

"The carpet. . ." he hissed, not particularly liking the abrasive sensation as he moved over it.

"Then I have just the idea, my friend," Paris winked, scrambling to his feet. He looked about the room, then decisively gathered both their uniforms in his arms. He pinched one of their insignia and said, "Computer, is there an opening in holodeck use at this time?"

Harry frowned in suspicion. "Tom. . ."

"Hush." He waited for the computer's reply and smiled broadly when the voice said, "Affirmative. Holodeck four is currently available."

"Excellent," he beamed, kneeling beside Harry's sitting form. "Computer, set up program Paris005, and transport us directly to holodeck four when it's ready."

"Working. . ."

Harry took opportunity of the lull. "Tom, what are you doing?"

"You'll see," Paris grinned, leaning in and silencing the protesting ensign with a kiss. The computer chirped then, and a moment followed before they were surrounded by a warm glitter of light.

---

Harry blinked away the lingering disorientation and stared wide-eyed at the scenery. It was enough to make his heart stop all together!

The atmosphere resembled that of Sandrine's; in fact, Kim wouldn't be at all surprised if Tom went and told him this was part of the upper levels of the quaint tavern. It was warm, and the prominent smell of wood burning was the first thing that hit him. No doubt caused by the wide hearth on the far wall, framing a crackling fire. He sighed, and studied the rest of the room, not to mention the wide comfortable bed dominating the whole space!

He grinned and turned to Paris' expectant face. "It's gorgeous," he murmured. "Why did you keep this program hidden from the others?"

Paris dropped the clothes carelessly on the floor and steered the young man toward the bed, his eye colour shifting relentlessly in synchronism with the fire. "Because I wanted someone special to share it with," he said, and Harry inhaled deeply with delight.

They climbed the bed languidly, touching, caressing, kissing. They twined together like snakes engaged in a sensual mating dance, nipping a shoulder here, twisting to massage the other's back, hooking one leg with the other, and just reveling in the closeness; the intimacy both needed so desperately.

They never broke from their embrace. They simply moved together, rubbing against the other, their erections bouncing against the other, stimulating each other.

"Tom. . ." Harry moaned, squeezing his hold over his friend's back, pressing his forehead tightly against Paris' shoulder as he thrust his hips firmly.

"Yes. . ." Paris hissed, mirroring the gesture, feeling both their release upon them as they caressed harder, kissed deeply.

The eventual release was a welcome relief. Pent-up frustration was liberated, repressed anger and bitterness vanishing into thin air as they shared a moment of complete union, mind and body, pausing as they delighted in the warm glow of their passion.

They both collapsed in a sweaty, satiated heap on the bed, Harry on his back and Paris over the ensign's chest. They remained silent for a long moment, deep in thought, amazed at the intensity their union had just radiated.

Then, Paris stirred and purred deep in his throat. "Hmm. . . you know what I could go for right now?" he asked in a drawl, tracing idle patterns on Harry's smooth chest as he stared at the hypnotising fire.

They both looked at each other then, and burst out, "Fudge ripple pudding!" before exploding in wild, boyish laughter, falling into a hug that threatened never to separate the young lovers.

---

End