by Briony
---

I've been lurking on the PKSP list for a few weeks now, but following a conversation with Lizzie, in which we were both bemoaning the same aspect of the show, I was, er, inspired to try my hand at writing my first ever piece of fanfiction. What can I say, you guys are a bad influence !

I wrote this story as a piece of pure wishfulfillment and as a way of putting things right. My thanks to Robin Lawrie for being kind enough to beta read for me and whose comments immeasurably improved the story. Also thanks to Robin for the title.

Comments and (constructive) criticism are welcome (please!), but please remember it's my first try!

OK to post to BLTs and to archive on R-rain's Slash Archive and the PKSP archive (when up).

Whew, I think that's all the formalities out of the way, oops almost forgot: Disclaimer - Paramount owns everything, I own nothing, but this story

Dedicated to the wardrobe supervisors on the Startrek: Voyager team, without whom this story would never have been written.

The idea of Tom in black leather was stolen, er inspired by reading 'This River' by Joanne Collins - thanks Joanne, what an inspiration!

---

Ensign Harry Kim was sitting apprehensively in Captain Janeway's ready room, facing the Captain and Chakotay, who were both lounging by the window, sitting closely together, but with grave expressions on their faces. Janeway's request that she join them in her ready room had been couched in unusually serious tones, leaving Harry to ponder just what it was she and the Commander wanted to see him about. Various scenarios went through his mind as he struggled to find anything he had done lately that might necessitate seeing both the Captain and Chakotay. Voyager was travelling through a relatively empty part of the Delta Quadrant, devoid of interesting features, or new (and possibly hostile) aliens, so he didn't think she wanted to discuss operational matters with him. I haven't done anything that she could want to see me about, thought Harry. Nah, she can't possibly know about that!

"I asked you here" Janeway said, smiling half-heartedly "because, well you're close friends with Lieutenant Paris".

Tom, Harry thought, this is about Tom, but why do they want to see me?

"And as his friend-" Janeway said, then she uncharacteristically hesitated.

"We, er, just thought-" Chakotay chimed in, "that there are certain matters where it would be hrmm, better, if, er, what needs to be said is said by someone who is close to the Lieutenant as you are. . . " His voice trailed off.

"The fact is," said the Captain, "that there are certain standards that I expect my senior officers to maintain in which Mr. Paris is deficient, and I, no, we-" glancing at Chakotay. "-thought it would be kinder if it came from you."

Harry's bewilderment increased. He couldn't think of anything of which he was aware that Tom had done (lately) that fell short of the comportment expected of a senior officer, taking into account Tom's usual casual style.

"Please Captain," Harry said. "What exactly is it that Tom is deficient in?"

Janeway squirmed uncomfortably. "Not deficient exactly," she said. "More an area where Tom needs a little, er, guidance. . . "

---

Later, following his interview with the Captain and the Commander, Harry sat in his quarters pondering his problem - how to tell Tom. He touched his combadge. "Kim to Torres."

"Torres here, Harry. What's up?"

"Could we have a word, B'Elanna?"

"Sure, Harry. What about?"

"I'd rather not say over an open com-channel, B'Elanna. Can we meet for a drink?"

"Er, fine," she said in a curious tone.

"Sandrine's at 20.00?"

"I'll be there".


"Whew," B'Elanna said, after taking a sip of her synthahol. "I'm glad that you're the person who has to tell him."

"C'mon, B'Elanna," wailed Harry. "Tell me it's not going to be that bad."

"No, no," B'Elanna said reassuringly. "I'm sure he'll be. . . fine about it. Really!" she finished unconvincingly.

Harry took a gulp of his (real alcohol) beer. "Why don't I believe you?" he grumbled.

"Look," said B'Elanna, "you're his best friend. The Captain's right, you're the best person to tell him."

"Gee thanks for the help," Harry said, somewhat sarcastically. "But how am I going to tell him?"

"Oh, you'll think of something, Starfleet. I have confidence in you."

"Thanks," Harry said dryly, " but I wanted some sort of plan, or better yet, how about we both tell him?"

"Sorry, Starfleet - in this you're on your own."

"Thanks" Harry said glumly, gazing down into his beer. He tossed it back and got to his feet. "If I'm gonna have to tell him, I'll do it now, before my courage fails me."

As Harry exited Sandrine's he bumped into the Delaney sisters.

"Hi Harry," said Megan.

"On your way to tell Tom?"

"That's right," Harry said absently, then did a double take.

"Tell Tom, what do you mean, tell Tom?"

"Oh Harry," Jenny said. "We know, OK. The whole ship knows of the Captain's latest project as most of us have donated replicator rations to the, er, project."

"You have," Harry said, his voice raising dangerously on the final intonation.

"We have," Megan confirmed "and we'd just like you to know that we're with you. Let's face it, this has got to be one of the most worthwhile projects ever undertaken on Voyager."

Jenny chimed in with fervent agreement. "Personally," she said, "I can't wait to see the outcome! Best of luck, Harry."

"Luck," Megan echoed as the two women entered Sandrine's.


Tom was relaxing in his quarters reading a racy late 20th century thriller, when his doorbell rang. As he was off duty he was wearing casual clothes, a somewhat nondescript beige lounging suit.

"Come in," he said. The doors opened and Harry entered hesitantly.

"Hi Har, what's up?" Tom said, surprised that Harry had bothered to knock, as for some time he and Harry had been in the habit of strolling into each other's quarters.

"Oh, nothing much," replied Harry, who to Tom's eyes looked somewhat uncomfortable. Tom looked at Harry quizzically and invited him to take a seat.

"Park it here, Harry." There was then a strained silence.

"Soooo," drawled Tom. "What can I do for you? Did you want a drink, or how about a game of pool?"

"Er, no," was the reply. "How about if we just talk."

"Sure. What did you want to talk about?"

"Oh, you know this and that. Nothing in particular. Whatever."

"Harry, are you feeling alright?" asked Tom, by now becoming slightly alarmed at Harry's uncharacteristic diffidence.

"Yes, no, yes. Look Tom, there's. . . something I have to tell you." He drew a deep breath and continued, "We're friends, close friends and we'll always be friends no matter what. Right?"

"Right," affirmed Tom as his mind started to race. He says he's got something to tell me, Tom thought, but he's having trouble saying it, and he's looking at me so strangely. Tom's breath caught and his heart started to race in anticipation. Is he going to finally say it, does he feel it too?

"And close friends, who'll always be friends, should be honest with one another, yes?"

"Yes, yes," Tom said breathlessly. "Harry, please, tell me whatever it is, please."

"Well Tom, it's. . ."

"Yes," said impatiently.

"It's, er, your. . . clothes!"

"My clothes?" Tom queried in bewilderment. "What about my clothes?"

"It's just, that they, er, well they're not very flattering is all" Harry mumbled.

"Not very flattering," Tom repeated slowly. "Just what are you trying to say here?" he said, getting over his bewilderment and beginning to get angry.

"See Tom," Harry said pleadingly, "It's not just me, we think, I mean, it's fine when you're in uniform 'cos you look great in it, I mean that, it's a great look on you, but, well, when you're in civvy's, I mean, just look at yourself," he finished in an outburst of righteous indignation.

Tom looked down at his beige lounging suit. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" he asked indignantly.

"It's beige Tom, beige, beige, beige and it's baggy! It does nothing for your figure, really, and you look so good in tighter clothes and beige isn't really your colour, no browns ever, blues and greys, those'd look great and you really should wear those colours," Harry babbled on.

Tom's mouth tightened. "I see" he said coldly "So, you came here just to insult my wardrobe, or is there something else you'd like to insult me about? And what do you mean, we?"

By this time Harry was a fiery red in colour, visible even with his golden colouration. "We is, well, everybody" he said miserably. "See, the Captain-"

"The Captain!" Tom interjected.

"- and Chakotay" Harry continued "they asked me to have a word with you. You see the Captain thinks that when we're on shoreleave, you, er, you don't maintain the image of a senior officer with your choice of attire. . ." His voice trailed off miserably at the stricken look on Tom's face. Harry drew a breath and continued "And I asked B'Elanna and she said I should just tell you and Megan and Jenny said the same and. . ."

"The Delaneys!" Tom shouted. "Why didn't you just make a ship wide announcement while you were at it!"

"No. See they guessed and they just want the best for you, Tom," Harry said hastily. "We all do. I mean you could look so good, but not with what you usually wear. . ." His voice faltered and died.

"I see," Tom choked out "everyone thinks I look like a nerd, a wanker, clueless!"

Wanker? Harry thought in puzzlement. "No, no," he hastened to reassure "not you, just your clothes. And Tom, the Captain and Chakotay and B'Elanna and the Delaneys and Seven (not that she really uses hers) and Sue and Sam and Neelix and well, practically everybody, they've all donated replicator rations to help you out with a new wardrobe."

Neelix!" Tom yelled, "You think I dress worse than Neelix!"

"Not worse, no," Harry hastened to say. "But you've got so much more potential. . ."

Tom heaved a heavy sigh. "OK," he said somewhat bitterly, "we can't disappoint everybody can we. So what do we do about my clothes?"

"Well," said Harry "how about we look at them together and make a decision as to whether they stay or go, and then replicate some replacements?"

Tom looked at Harry, casually elegant in black trousers and a dark green shirt that showed off his golden skin to its best advantage, looked down once more at his beige attire and shrugged in agreement. The two men moved to Tom's wardrobe.

"What about this?" Tom asked, holding up the sweater he'd worn when leaving the ship to join the Talaxian convoy.

Harry shuddered. "Bin it," he said decisively. "In fact," he continued, "bin everything that is any variation of brown!"

Out when Tom's formal suit, worn when the Enarans had visited the ship, out went the Maquis clothes Tom had worn when running the "Insurrection Alpha" holodeck programme and out went any clothing that was remotely brown, beige, vomit coloured, yellow or mustard.

"You can keep the jeans and the vest," Harry said, when coming across the outfit Tom had worn on the away mission to Earth in 1996, "but get rid of the shirt."

Tom picked something up and quickly stuffed it into the back of the wardrobe.

"What's that?" Harry enquired.

"Nothing," Tom said hastily.

"Come on Tom, I'm not blind. What was it?" Tom sheepishly held up the "Big Daddy O Surf Special" he had worn to the luau.

"Bin it," Harry ordered.

"No, Har, no. I love that shirt!"

"Bin it!"

"No, no," Tom said. "Look, wait another decade and it'll be right back in fashion!"

Harry looked dubiously at the shirt and sighed. "Alright, keep it if you really have to," he said with resignation.


Sometime later Tom and Harry surveyed Tom's depleted wardrobe.

"OK," said Harry, "you know what to do. Anything in blues or greys and you know I think pink would be a good colour on you, but definitely no earth tones!" Tom nodded.

"Oh and Tom, I think I'll stay and watch, just to give the final seal of approval, you know.".

"You're enjoying this!" Tom accused.

"Not at all," Harry denied, all the while thinking, enjoying the sight of you trying on all those clothes, watching while they caress your luminous skin, cling to your long lean form, no, enjoying that not at all! Tom strode to the replicator.

"And you say I've got a lot of rations, right Har?"

"Yep," was the response, "almost unlimited, I'd say."

Tom and Harry proceeded to order a selection of clothing in shades of blue and grey, with one or two items in pink or white, plus a dark red shirt that set off his fair skin beautifully. Tom dutifully tried them on at Harry's beseeching, parading up and down in front of the mirror, and Harry, who, for his part, was having a hard time keeping his cool.

There was the object of all his most cherished fantasies looking absolutely gorgeous, wearing (for once) off duty attire that actually made the most of his fair good looks, and some of the clothes were so much tighter fitting than Tom's usual uniform, showing off his long lean form, well-shaped backside and endless legs to their best advantage.

Harry became aware that his response to Tom's new wardrobe was becoming rather obvious, particularly as Tom stripped off a white shirt he had been trying on, baring an expanse of firmly muscled, golden furred chest and Harry hastily grabbed the discarded white shirt, which was still warm from Tom's body heat and was imbued with his distinctive scent, as he had become increasingly hot during the trying on process. Harry hugged the shirt to his lap, after inhaling deeply of Tom's scent. Tom noticed this action out of the corner of his eye as he turned to grab the next item. What is he doing, he thought, noticing Harry's flushed skin and dilated eyes. If I didn't know better I could swear that he looks aroused. Wait a minute, he is aroused, over me? Tom's eyes brightened and his breath quickened. So, he thought, I was right. Harry does feel the same way about me, but he'll never admit it, not Mr Dutiful. OK then I guess it's up to me. I can seize this moment and act on our feelings and possibly ruin our friendship, or I can just go for it! Tom, quit fooling yourself, you know what you're gonna do - go for it!

Tom turned to Harry.

"Harry," he said in his most dulcet tones.

Harry gulped. "Yes, Tom?" he replied.

"I've got an idea for one final outfit," Tom cooed, "but I want it to be a surprise, so I want you to close your eyes."

"Er, OK" Harry mumbled in response, clutching the white shirt to him even more tightly at the caressing sound of Tom's voice as he complied with Tom's request.

Tom punched in his clothing order to the replicator and disappeared into the bathroom to try it on. Harry could hear muffled cursing sounds as Tom fumbled with the clothing he'd replicated. As Tom walked out Harry could hear the distinctive sound of something creaking and what was that smell? He kept his eyes closed as Tom approached him, conscious that Tom was standing very near the couch on which Harry reclined. He could feel Tom's body heat and smell Tom's distinctive scent, coupled with the smell of the garments. Harry swallowed heavily as his arousal jumped to new heights. On my god Harry thought frantically, now what do I do, oh Tom, oh god, he mustn't know, he's my friend, oh god I want him!

"You can open your eyes now Harry" Tom said softly, perusing with satisfaction Harry's tightly closed eyes and flushed skin. Harry looked up; his lips parted over a suddenly dry mouth and the shirt he had been clutching dropped unnoticed to the floor. There, less than a foot from him stood Tom dressed from head to toe in black leather! On his feet Tom wore black leather boots while the trousers looked like they'd been spray painted on, they were that tight, displaying an obvious bulge at the crotch. The black leather jacket was open at the front showing a generous expanse of fair, lightly furred chest, revealing that Tom was wearing nothing underneath.

Harry made a choked sound as his self control finally failed and launched himself at Tom, who tumbled to the floor, Harry falling on top of him, from which vantage Tom started to laugh!

Harry scrambled to his feet, flushing miserably. "Tom, Tom," he cried. "I'm so sorry, I don't know what came over me," he babbled.

Tom reclined on his elbows from his prone position on the floor, still grinning. "Well, Har," he said lightly, "I hope what came over you was me, because I'll be very disappointed if not, after all this effort. I mean do you have any idea just how difficult it was to get into this outfit!"

Harry's eyes widened in disbelief. "Are you saying," he said slowly, "that you want, that you wore that because, um, are you saying. . ."

"That I want you?" Tom finished for him. "Oh yes, Harry Kim, I want you. I just didn't know before now that you want me too!" He sat up and held out his hand to Harry, who took hold of it hesitantly.

"But Tom," he began, "shouldn't we talk about this?"

"Nope," was the swift reply, qualified by, "Well, not unless you want to. What's to talk about, I want you, you want me."

"Our friendship," Harry said.

"You said earlier that we'd always be friends no matter what." Harry nodded.

"Well," Tom continued "at least for tonight, let's be more than friends and take the rest of it as it comes, yes? Come on Harry," Tom said. "Let's go to bed." Then he started to grin.

"Come on Harry," he said once more in that little boy tone that Harry had always found impossible to resist, "it'll be fun!"

With those words Harry's fate was sealed. Tomorrow he might regret it, but for tonight what he had wanted for so long was finally within his reach and realising this, he shrugged, smiled sheepishly and allowed Tom to pull him down on top of him onto the floor, Tom saying as he did so, "Oh and Harry, I do know how to dress when it counts, yes?"

"Yes, oh yes!" Harry enthusiastically agreed as he collapsed forward on top of Tom, who slid his arms round Harry and pulled his head down into a passionate kiss. As their tongues mated Harry could only think dazedly (before he ceased to be able to think coherently at all) that the girls were right, Tom was very talented in that area.

---

Later (much later) as the two men were cuddling together, relaxed in post-coital languor, Harry spoke. "Tom," he asked.

"Yes, love?" was the reply.

Love, he called me love, thought Harry ecstatically. "Tom," he said again, "what's a wanker?"

---

End