by Bruce
---

++ DISCLAIMER ++ The characters and settings of this story belong to Paramount Pictures, I'm just borrowing them for creative fan fiction.

DO NOT read further if you are under 18 years of age, or are offended by sexual situations involving men.

Feel free to save this story for your own purposes, but please do not repost it without contacting me. Thank you.

---

Ensign Harry Kim tossed and turned in his bed. He'd tried listening to soft music, he'd read, he'd counted sheep. Nothing worked -- he couldn't get to sleep. Something was troubling him, but he couldn't figure out what it was. There wasn't any stress from a recent mission - Voyager had been traveling unmolested through this part of the Delta Quadrant for over a week. No monsters, no anomalies, no nothing. The hiatus from adventure had given him a chance to spend some quality time with Tom Paris, the ship's helmsman and his best friend. And yet, some of their time had felt. . . strained. He put on a loose-fitting shirt, pulled on pajama pants, and exited his room, heading for the dining room.

One of the great things about Talaxians is their attention to others and eagerness to please. Neelix was moving from table to table, chatting with crew members who were taking a break from their third- watch duties. He looked up in surprise when Harry walked in.

"Ensign Kim," said Neelix, as he approached Harry at the large observation windows, "you look like you can't sleep. May I get you something warm to drink -- perhaps some coconut milk?"

Harry seemed not to hear him for a moment, then started and looked at the ship's morale officer. He sighed and said, "No, thank you, Neelix." His face crinkled in exasperation. "You're right, I can't sleep. I already tried a hot toddy in my quarters. It didn't help."

Neelix nodded his head and looked out at the stars with Harry for a moment. His eyebrows rose slightly as he got an idea. "Ensign, perhaps some exercise would do you good. . . the gym in cargo bay 4 is always deserted at this time. You could exert yourself until you had to go to sleep."

Harry looked at the Talaxian and smiled slightly. "I hadn't thought of that. Thanks, Neelix!" he said as he headed out the door.

Neelix smiled to himself, knowing he may have set something in motion other than just the young Asian-American ensign.


Only minutes later, Harry Kim stepped out of the makeshift changing area and into the large space of the cargo bay. Since Voyager was slowly using more supplies and equipment than she was taking on, the space had opened up. Some enterprising crew members from engineering set up exercise areas, and the entire crew each gave up two replicator rations to provide exercise equipment.

Harry walked toward the weightlifting bench and stopped suddenly. Someone else was here, too. He looked around and saw someone doing chin-ups across the room. Harry walked slowly toward the figure -- wearing a gray tank top and shorts -- red hair -- it was Tom. Harry watched as Paris pulled himself up to the bar and slowly and smoothly lowered himself again. He hadn't seen Tom in this state of undress before, and he was impressed by how defined his friend's muscles were. Tom's back, shoulders, and arms rippled as he continued to do the chin-ups, apparently unaware that he was being watched. Harry heard the labored breathing as Tom continued to exercise. Harry noticed his friend was covered in sweat -- it stained the back and sides of Tom's shirt and the middle of his shorts. The dark red hair of his armpits was stuck together from perspiration. Harry didn't breathe for fear of ruining the moment.

After several more pulls, Tom gasped and dropped to his feet. Harry blinked and came to his senses. "So, how many did you do?" he asked.

Paris jumped and spun around, then relaxed and looked away for a moment. "Man, Harry, you gave me a start. I didn't hear you come in."

"I just got here. I couldn't sleep, and Neelix thought some exercise would do me good. He didn't think anyone would be here. I didn't mean to scare you."

Tom was annoyed. He wasn't actually scared, and he thought Neelix knew he liked to exercise in private. Of course, it was okay, since this was Harry, but. . . things had felt strange the past couple of days. "I did one hundred chin ups, and before that I ran four miles on the treadmill."

Harry smiled and walked up to his friend. He sensed the strain between them, but he didn't care. Tom was his friend, and he was important to him. "Well, I'll certainly have to work up to that." Tom smiled, appreciating the compliment.

"Well, any kind of workout should help if you're having trouble sleeping," said Tom, the sweat running from his flattened hair, down his temple and cheek, dripping off of his chin and adding to the glistening already on the part of his chest left bare by the low-cut tank top.

Harry found himself watching the sweat drops roll down his friend's muscular pectorals. A light dusting of red hair was plastered to Tom's chest by the moisture. Harry followed the sweat stain that ran from the neck of Tom's tank top, down the center of his chest, and joined a stain on the front of his shorts, where the shirt was tucked in. Then, he noticed the bulge. Since Harry had never been Tom this close to naked before, he didn't know what to expect. Tom's shorts showed enough for Harry to tell that he had something there. As Harry stared, he knew that was what he wanted.

Harry suddenly roused from his trance, and quickly looked back at Tom's face. Tom was studying Harry, not exactly sure of what was going on. Something was different here -- he had sensed it all week. "Well," he said as he crossed his arms and peeled off the tank top, "I'd better shower, or I won't be allowed in the turbo lift!"

Harry's eyes followed the shirt as it rolled up and off of his friend's chest. Tom's nipples were large and dark brown. "Uh. . . right," said Harry, as he turned and tried to think of what to do, but all the while stealing glances at Tom's chest and abdominal muscles, and the trail of red hair that started in the middle of his chest and disappeared into his shorts.

And suddenly, Harry was alone. He proceeded to the stair climber machine, and turned on the power. But as he stepped onto it, he was uncomfortable. He reached down and adjusted his erection, caught in his supporter. Harry climbed the equivalent of five flights of stairs, when his curiosity got the better of him. He heard the shower running, so he quietly made his way to the back of the gym. In the changing room, he found Tom's things wadded in a pile. Without thinking, he grabbed Tom's sweat-soaked exercise shorts, and bolted back to his quarters.

In the shower area, Tom luxuriated in the hot water and steam. He slowly rubbed cleanser through his hair, and then over his chest. He moved his hands up and down his abs and pecs, enjoying the way that it felt. With his thumbs, he played with his nipples, making them hard. He loved these times alone, but in a public place, to sweat and be naked. . . He found it exciting -- there was always the chance of having an unplanned experience.

"It would be better with someone else soaping me up," he thought to himself, but it wasn't easy to have a relationship on such as small ship. It was so easy to know everyone else's business. Besides, if he were showering and fondling someone else here, he'd surely be caught.

This made Tom smirk, and his hands instinctively slid down to his crotch. His penis was half-hard. With his left hand, he reached down and cupped his balls, rolling them from side to side, squeezing just enough to send tiny jolts through his body. His right hand began to stroke up and down the shaft. He took a deep breath, and turned so that the spray of the shower hit his shoulders and ran down all over his body. Stroking his cock some more, it got harder. The veins that crisscrossed it stood out blue against the purple of his blood-engorged organ. The large mushroom head was so sensitive, each time he touched it, he sucked in his breath. He started to move his hand faster and faster, up and down. His breathing became shallow as he neared the point of orgasm. His left hand left his scrotum and moved around to the hard muscles of his buttocks.

As he started to move up and down slightly, he took advantage of a moment when his ass cheeks parted slightly and stuck his middle finger into the tight crevice. His finger made contact with his anus -- it rubbed over the small, brown pucker. "Ahh!" With a barely-stifled yell, Tom came. His semen shot out of his cock in thick, white, ropy streams. The first struck the wall of the shower, the next flew several feet across the floor. Paris continued stroking his cock and fingering his anus as he shot several more, though smaller, loads.

When his breathing returned to normal, he opened his eyes and looked at the mess he had made. He smirked again, and directed the shower spray to wash everything down the drain. Shutting off the shower, he gathered a towel around his waist and headed for the spa.

---

Harry entered his quarters at a run, but he didn't know why. Hardly anyone was still awake, but he was afraid he'd be seen. After the door whooshed shut, he stood motionless, in the darkness of his room, his heart pounding as if it would burst from his chest. A faint glow from the Doppler-shifted star streaks outside his window provided enough light for him to see himself in the dressing mirror.

His eyes were wide open, almost wild, but that he didn't notice. He saw himself, standing in his exercise clothes, every muscle prominent and tense.

With so little to do during off-duty times, and with his relationship with Tom strained for some odd reason, and with no love life, Harry had been practicing his Vulcan yoga as well as his usual weight training. His eyes traced over the reflection of his smooth, muscled chest covered by the soft gray of his shirt. Then his gaze moved down his shoulder, over the bicep he'd worked hard to strengthen, to his delicate-looking but still strong hand. . .

"Oh!" he said aloud, as he noticed the mottled gray wad of cloth in his hand. He'd forgotten about that. Tom's shorts from the gym. "Why. . .? What. . . was I. . . thinking?"

Instantly, his mind raced as paranoia battled against reason. Would Tom notice? Would he care? Would he know Harry had taken them? Was there time to return them? What story could he make up?

Harry quickly strode to the uniform refresher / recycler. At his touch, the panel slid open, and he placed the sweat-stained shorts in the receptacle. But instead of letting them go, he pulled them back out. He slowly raised them to his face. Holding them an inch away, he inhaled the scent - Tom. Harry shook his head violently, and moved for the refresher again, only to draw back again. "What made me do that?!" screamed in his head.

"Argh!" he groaned, not knowing what to do, not knowing what had possessed him to do something so strange. And yet he couldn't release the shorts. Tom's shorts.

Harry threw himself on the couch and stared at the wad of cloth, still clutched tightly in his hand. What should he do? If Tom found out he'd taken them, it could ruin their friendship. Harry didn't know why, but that thought nearly made him ill. Eyes squeezed shut, his face collapsed in his hands. The soft, damp shorts covered his face, and he breathed in the aroma of Tom again. A strange feeling of calm washed over him. After a few moments, or perhaps a few minutes, Harry sat up. He walked to his dresser, cleared space in a drawer, neatly arranged the shorts, and closed the drawer again.

Not knowing what else to do, he decided to turn in. "Computer," he said, and was met with the response chirp, "What is the time?"

"Ship's time is 0136 hours. Third watch is at duty stations," replied the automated voice that reminded some of the Betazed ambassador.

Fivve hours of sleep possible. Harry rubbed his face with his palms, then ran his fingers through his hair. The muscle tension from before left him feeling exhausted. He pulled off the shirt, sweatpants and supporter, and tossed them into the still-open refresher, which merrily chirped its thank-you and slid shut.

Harry saw himself in the mirror again. This time, he was naked. The yoga and weights were paying off. Abdominal muscles were appearing, his arms had added several inches in size, and his legs had greater definition than they ever had before. He slowly moved one hand across his chest and abdomen while the other squeezed his neck and upper back muscles. His lower hand made its way down to his crotch, and his splayed fingers moved through his thick, black pubic hair.

"Ugh, but I'm beat," he thought, and crawled into bed without donning his usual shorts and tank top.

---

As Harry double-checked his station, he couldn't help but continually look at the view screen as Saturn slowly moved out of the image. Tom had piloted Voyager in over the rings in the most dramatic fashion possible, and it was an amazing sight. Even more amazing was Tom himself, beaming at the helm. He kept turning back to Harry and flashing his biggest smile, and Harry kept shaking his head in disbelief and smiling back.

Harry activated a small section of the view screen to show the rear view. As Saturn continued to grow smaller, more and more ships lined up in formation behind Voyager. It seemed as though every starship still flying had come to welcome them. The Enterprise-E and the second Defiant were there, as well as deep-space shuttles, private craft, and a Klingon cruiser, all forming a rear escort.

Captain Janeway was as close to giddy as she ever got. She kept squeezing Chakotay's hand, and he squeezed back while trying to monitor communications on his panel. Only Tuvok gave no outward appearance of relief to be home in the Alpha Quadrant.

As they passed the asteroid belt, instructions for their arrival on Earth were transmitted. Starfleet had hastily assembled all the top brass, as well as Federation Council members, and had even decorated the stands. Thousands of San Franciscans were receiving updates on when they'd see the ship pass overhead. Many had prepared picnic lunches and were making their way to the cliffs and parks along the bay.

Tom slowed the ship, and turned to smile first at Harry, then at the smiling captain.

"Rig for condition blue," she ordered. Tom, Harry, and Chakotay keyed in their sequences as the ship began to enter the atmosphere. Janeway recorded her captain's log in front of everyone -- an unusual occurrence. ". . . and most of all, I pay tribute to this fine crew. . . my friends. . . without whom this mission would have been intolerable or even impossible. It has been an honor, a privilege, and a pleasure to serve with them," she said, her eyes becoming misty as Tom banked Voyager over the Golden Gate Bridge. Thousands of well-wishers waved as the ship sailed by, engines rumbling.

In only a few moments, Tom had circled the field, extended the landing struts, flared out the ship, and touched down. The reaction control exhaust blew away most of the decorations at the stadium, but the crowd continued to applaud, the band continued to play, and the admirals continued to grin.

Janeway nearly shouted "All ashore who's going ashore!" as cheers could be heard from every compartment. Everyone crowded into the turbolifts, heading for the main gangway ramp.

Tom spun around in his chair, not sure what he'd do when he met his father. . . and he saw Harry. "I thought you'd left with the others," he said.

"In a minute," replied the ensign.

Tom stood and took a few steps across the lower bridge. Harry stepped out from around his console, and stepped to the command rail.

"This whole thing..." stammered Tom. "I'm not sure I'd be here now, if it weren't for you." His mouth opened as if to say something else, but no words came. He raised a hand, palm open, as if to gesture, but let it drop to his side.

Harry leaped over the command seats, landing in front of his best friend, and threw his arms around him. "Tom," he whispered, "if I don't say this now, I may not get the chance. . ."

---

Harry sat bolt upright in bed, his hands clenching the sheets. He didn't breathe for a moment. The computer, sensing that he was awake stopped sounding the wake-up alarm.

"Good morning, Ensign Kim. Today is Stardate 54632. Your duty shift begins in 30 minutes. Today Crewman Jenkins is 25 years old. On this date in history, the. . ."

The computer faded into the background as Harry became reoriented with where he was and when it was and what had happened last night. Things were finally becoming clearer -- why he felt strange around Tom - the shorts -- the dream.

"Oh, my. . ."

---

"Mr. Paris?"

Tom spun around from his helm panel. "Aye, Captain?"

"You'll forgive my asking, but. . . do you know why Ensign Kim hasn't reported for duty?" Janeway was truly surprised. Tom had been tardy a few times -- and some of those times he was actually late, not just covering up his fake "defection." But, Harry, late? She'd already queried the computer, and it had told her that Harry was in his quarters, but he hadn't answered.

"I don't know, Captain." Tom truly didn't know why Harry was late. Nor why he and Harry had been so tense around each other lately. Tom missed his quality time with his best friend, but he didn't feel like he could ask if something was wrong. Tom was happy to have seen Harry in the gym the night before, but that quick moment of happiness was dashed by the strain between them.

"Would you mind going down and checking on him?"

Tom hesitated for a moment. "Sure. No problem." Stiffly, he got up from his seat and headed for the turbolift. What would he say to Harry? "The captain's sent me to fetch you?" And why had she asked HIM to do it? "It's not like I'm married to Harry. . ."

The thought made Tom stop. Married to Harry. The idea wasn't repulsive, he just couldn't really picture it. Tom didn't picture himself the domestic type. "And besides, Harry's got Libby, or Seven, or any one of those green-skinned lounge dancers from the Delta Quadrant," he thought.

The image of Harry with one of those women, none of whom were right or good enough for him, truly bothered Tom. He violently shook his head to rid himself of the image, just as the lift doors whooshed open. Without looking, Tom walked smack-dab into Crewman Jenkins.

"Whoa, careful there, Lieutenant!"

"Oh, Bob, sorry. . . hey, happy birthday," he managed to say, as he blindly made his way to Harry's door. Several rings of the chime with no answer led Tom to exercise his right as best friend, and his skill as a convict, and jimmy the door. First, he looked at the bed. The covers were a mess, but no Harry.

Tom sat on the edge of the bed, and felt the slight depression where his friend had been. Still warm. He gently slid his hand up and down the spot where his friend had been sleeping.

Next, he stood and walked to the lavatory door. Stepping in, clouds of steam blurred his vision momentarily. After that moment passed, Tom was rewarded with the sight of Harry, naked and dripping, stepping out of the shower. Tom's eyes traveled at a snail's pace, and at warp speed simultaneously, taking in all of Harry. His smooth, hairless chest, with pecs and abs showing new definition. . . the graceful, but obviously powerful legs that Tom had seen run so fast, but always under uniform trousers. . . and the dark brown, uncircumcised penis, hanging down several inches, framed on either side by large, egg- shaped testicles. . . Tom never realized just how beautiful his friend was.

His eyes reached Harry's face, framed by the strands of wet hair hanging down over his forehead and in his eyes, just at the moment that Harry saw him.

"Aaaaah! Dammit, Tom, you scared the hell out of me!" Harry leaned on the counter to regain his balance and breath.

"Har, I'm sorry. The captain asked me to come down and check on you. You're late for duty and didn't answer the page."

"Oh, no! That's. . . just great. 'Ensign Kim to bridge.'"

Janeway answered the call. "Good morning, Harry. Is everything all right?"

"Yes, Captain. I'm sorry that I'm late. I'll be there in five minutes."

"Very well."

Tom took a deep breath, and tried to keep his eyes on Harry's face. "Well, you get dried off, and I'll get your clothes."

"Yeah, thanks," replied Harry, as he activated the dryer. He heard Tom open the closet and remove a uniform shirt, blouse, and trousers, plus the regulation boots. As Harry ran his hand through his hair to arrange it in a manner that at least would get by on the bridge for today, he heard Tom opening drawers. "Shorts!" screamed through his brain.

"Tom!" Harry shouted, as he dashed out, still naked, into the main room.

Tom turned, startled, and looked at his friend again. "Yeah, Har, what is it?"

At least he hadn't gotten to THAT drawer yet. As Harry was feeling the relief of that thought, he realized that he'd been completely nude in front of the object of his affection for several minutes. He was scared, embarrassed, aroused -- all at the same time. Even though he willed it not to, he felt the heat of blood collecting between his legs. He knew his penis was begging to bob up and down.

"Uh. . . you go on back up to the bridge. . . I'll be dressed in just a minute. Tell the captain for me, please."

There it was again -- that feeling of tension. Both of them sensed it.

Tom looked at his shoes, then slowly brought his eyes up, enjoying the last glimpse of his friend. "Okay. See you there." Tom turned on his heels, and went out.

Harry sat/fell onto his couch, and held his head in his hands. He hurt. He ached. He'd been naked in front of Tom, and Tom had been here to rescue him, and he couldn't do anything but clam up and run him off. With a sigh, he stood, touched the half-stiff rod between his legs, and began to dress, his eyes moving to the drawers. . . the one with the shorts inside hadn't been opened yet, thank goodness.

In the lift, Tom leaned against the wall. He felt his face tighten, and his eyes burn, and his stomach knot. This morning's meeting could and should have been funny, or even wonderful. But it hadn't been. It was just another tense time with Harry.

But, oh, didn't Harry look good. Tom realized an erection was growing in his pants. Without thinking, his palm rubbed down over the bulge, showing large in the black fabric. His eyes squeezed shut as he continued to caress against his hard organ. A soft moan escaped from him.

"Lieutenant?"

Tom's eyes snapped wide open, to see Tuvok leaning out from his station, one eyebrow raised. Tom's hand flew down to his side, then came back up to hide the obvious lump. He crab-walked down the ramp and side-stepped over to his seat, then slowly sat, squirming with his hips in an impossible attempt to be comfortable. He concentrated on a blinking amber light on his panel for a minute, then focused on a star at the center of the viewscreen, following it until it passed out of sight. The whoosh of the turbolift doors, and Harry's "Sorry, Captain," made Tom snap his head around. He saw Janeway, Chakotay, and Tuvok simultaneously look from Harry to Tom to each other. . . then look down at their shoes.

---

Bridge duty passed slowly. Whereas it was good for everyone aboard Voyager that they'd been in the most boring part of space ever traversed, there was tension, nevertheless. Ensign Kim's late arrival, and Lieutenant Paris' strange behavior after retrieving the Ops officer from oversleeping had cast a pall over the crew. Usually there would be clever, friendly banter tossed about the bridge. But not today. Chakotay found himself secretly wishing that SOMETHING would happen to relieve the deafening silence.

"Maybe that Q fellow could visit and liven things up," he thought, half-seriously, "or the Doctor could interrupt with one of his discoveries about nasal passages." But all that could be heard were the taps of fingers on panels, and the warbling of the viewscreen scanner.

Harry didn't look up at all from his station. He only left the bridge three times during his shift, presumably for a drink or to relieve himself. Tom watched Harry's departure carefully each time, but didn't say anything or make a move. Captain Janeway couldn't stand it anymore. She motioned for Chakotay to lean in to hear her whisper.

"I can't stand it anymore," she whispered to her second-in-command. "Did they have a fight? Was I wrong to have sent Tom to get Harry this morning? And why was he late, anyway?"

Chakotay shook his head. "I have no idea. But I wouldn't assign them on any away missions until things are cleared up. I'll talk to Neelix and see if I can figure anything out."

---

Chakotay rode the turbolift down two decks and was joined by B'Elanna Torres, ship's engineer. They exchanged brief "hi's" and passed another deck in silence. Then, as if on cue, each turned to the other and said "What's wrong with Tom and Harry?"

B'Elanna made a serious face and nodded. "So, I'm not the only one who's noticed. They haven't been sitting together at meals, and Tom hasn't run 'Captain Proton' in weeks."

By this time they had exited the lift and were heading for the ship's mess. Neelix stood ready at the door with a mug of coffee, and handed it to the engineer. "Oh, Commander, may I bring you something to drink?"

"No, thank you, Neelix. This is ship's business. We have a morale problem that's beginning to affect more and more of the crew. What do you know about Paris and Kim?"

Neelix smiled for a moment, then frowned, then his face furrowed in thought. With a sigh, he motioned to an empty table. "This will take a few minutes. Why don't we all sit, and I'll tell you what I did."

---

Later in the day, when shift-change time arrived, Harry relinquished control of the Ops station to a crewman, and walked straight for the turbolift. He made eye contact with no one. It wasn't until the doors had whooshed shut, and the lift began descending, that he realized Tom was standing next to him. He acknowledged his friend with a sheepish half-smile and a nod. Tom pressed the control to stop the lift. "Harry, you don't have to be embarrassed about this morning." Harry did not reply. He simply continued to contemplate the lift doors.

Tom pressed on. "Look, I know things have been a little weird lately. There hasn't been much to do on the ship, and we haven't done much together, either." Tom gently put his hand on Harry's shoulder, as he did so often.

The warmth of Tom's hand sent jolts through Harry. He felt his head tilting toward that hand, but he stopped himself and brought it upright again. Tom noticed the subtle movement, but pretended he had not. Instead, he walked around in front of his friend. With so little room between Harry and the doors, their faces were only inches apart.

"Why don't we start over?" asked the older man, looking down at his young friend. "Come to my quarters at 2100 hours tonight, and I'll make dinner. Just us."

Harry's face inclined slightly, his brown eyes looking up into Tom's blue-grays. "All right," he said, softly.

Tom stood still, fixated for a moment. The sight of beautiful, vulnerable Harry, looking up through his tousled hair falling over his forehead was almost too much. Tom raised his right hand to touch Harry's cheek, but pulled it away quickly. Instead, he turned the gesture into pressing the 'resume' control. The lift began moving again.

When the doors opened on deck 9, Crewman Bob Jenkins was cross. "Who's been holding up the damn elevator?!" he growled. When he saw who was occupying the car, he instantly calmed down. "Oh, sorry, guys. Say - Tom, Ensign Kim - we're having punch and pie in the mess tonight. For my birthday? I hope you can come. Neelix says more people will come if we have punch and pie."

Tom stepped away from Harry, and turned to speak to the crewman. "Sorry, Bob, we've got plans for tonight. But I know that 25 is an important birthday. How would you like me to write you into 'Captain Proton'?"

"Wow, that would be great!" he said as the doors closed in front of him.

Tom lightly poked Harry in the chest. "Nine o'clock, my quarters."

Harry's eyes searched the corridor before finally meeting Tom's. "I'll be there. It's a. . . deal."

Paris trotted down the hallway. Harry collapsed against the bulkhead, his hand covering the spot in his chest where Tom had touched him. It still tingled. Harry made his way toward his quarters.

---

Tom Paris had never been so anxious about a date in his life -- and he'd had a lot of dates. But never had any of them been as potentially wonderful -- or dangerous -- as this one. He checked the chronometer display. "Two minutes past," he muttered.

He looked around his quarters. Everything was perfect. The lighting was at 65%; candles illuminated the table and were set on shelves, his desk, the side table. Soft piano jazz wafted through the air. A crisp salad, a cruet of dressing, and Mama Paris' famous croutons waited on the table. Tom studied himself in the reflection of the replicator panel. Loose, comfortable corduroy slacks, a soft crew-neck sweater, and bare feet.

His eyes refocused on the panel. "2103" read the time display.

Tom heaved a heavy sigh, and resigned to the fact that Harry wasn't coming. Tom had had his heart stomped on many times before, but this time was different. The other person was different. This was Harry. . . beautiful, young, vulnerable, sexy, kind, wonderful Harry.

Tom mindlessly popped a seasoned crouton into his mouth.

Then the door chime sounded. Tom nearly choked, trying to chew, swallow, wipe the crumbs off with his sleeve, and walk to the door at the same time. He had collected himself by the time he pressed the 'open' control.

Harry's face turned up to meet Tom's. His brown eyes searched Tom's face, and Paris saw Harry's Adam's apple move in a gulp. Tom smiled and stepped aside to allow Harry to enter.

After the initial relief had washed over Tom, he took a moment to drink in the vision that was Ensign Harry S. L. Kim. He'd never seen Harry in these clothes before: blue check oxford button-down shirt (top two buttons undone), tucked into faded jeans that were tight around the waist and thighs, a wide brown leather belt, and canvas sneakers. Harry had gone without hair gel, and his bangs fell over his forehead and into his eyes. It reminded Tom of how Harry looked so often when they were in distress. He hoped that tonight, however, would alleviate the distress they'd been having for so many days.

"I'm glad you're here."

"Me, too." Harry looked away, unable to look at his friend directly. "Look, I'm really sorry about these last few days. I know I've been acting weird. . ."

Tom stepped closer to the younger man, and put his hands on Harry's shoulders. "It's okay. I'm glad you're here."

Harry noticeably relaxed, and he looked around Tom's quarters for the first time since he'd walked in. "The place looks great."

Tom quietly said, "So do you," in reply. When Harry didn't seem to react to that, he motioned to the table. "I'm hungry -- let's eat."

Having something to do made both of them more at ease. As they munched on their salads, the talked about Crewman Jenkins, and how they'd have to do something to make up for missing his birthday party. Harry mentioned that he didn't remember being that excited about his own 25th. They both agreed that finding a role for Bob in their "Captain Proton" holo-serial would be a good gift. Tom suggested that Jenkins take on the role of the plucky newspaper photographer.

During the pasta course, the conversation turned to other more personal matters. Harry remarked that Tom's cooking was quite good -- a hidden talent. Tom noted that he'd been cooking with pasta a lot lately. Not only was it a milder alternative to some of Neelix's creations, but that it also complimented his workout routine of late.

Harry looked down at the table again. "That night I found you in the gym - I. . . hadn't realized how hard you'd been working out. It's really paying off."

"It's been good for working off some of this tension, and it's always good to be in shape for away missions. . . or shore leave." Tom felt this was a good time to try broaching other subjects beyond small talk. "I guess the Vulcan yoga and weights have really been good for you, huh?"

"Yeah, I don't think I've ever felt better, physically," Harry replied.

"But how -"

"This morning. The shower?"

Harry blushed and stared at his now-empty plate.

"Hey," Tom said, as he reached across the table. This time, he didn't hesitate -- he turned his fingertips under Harry's chin and lifted his face until their eyes locked. "You aren't bothered that I saw you, are you?"

"No. . ."

"Good. Harry, I'm not good at being serious, but. . . Harry, I think you're beautiful." Tom gently ran his forefinger over Harry's full, quivering lips.

Harry's face fell again. "I know what I want to say. . . It's just that. . . I've made mistakes before." He inhaled and exhaled deeply. "If I mess this one up, I don't know what I'll do. I'm afraid."

Tom got out of his chair and walked around to kneel beside his friend. "I'm scared, too. But if we can do this together, I know I won't be afraid any more."

Harry wrapped his arms around Tom and buried his face in his hair. As Tom put his arms around Harry's waist, he heard "I love you, Tom," quietly spoken. Squeezing his friend, Tom sighed and said, "I love you, too, Harry."

---

End