by CKC
---

It was three weeks after Tom and Harry got back to the ship before I noticed that something had changed. Then it only took me an hour to figure out that the something was Harry.

For me, part of Harry's charm was his ability to see the best in everything and everyone. It was refreshing, especially after spending years with the Maquis, who raised cynicism to a new art form. I knew he'd be special to me from the moment we met in the Ocampan city, when he didn't give me that 'where the hell did this creature come from' look I had gotten used to, even when I lost my temper and behaved like a typical Klingon, trying to pound down the door. And when he tried so hard to be brave and optimistic about finding our way out, even when we knew we were going to die there.

I didn't love him; he was too damn young. And too good-looking, in that soft, gentle, human way. Although I'm partial to thick dark hair, almond eyes, and golden skin, I knew I'd shred him to pieces if I ever laid a hand on him. No, I didn't love him. He was my friend.

So when we got Harry and Tom back from that prison and they were still in sickbay, I went to find out what had happened to them. Kes didn't want to tell me at first. I reminded her that I'd been held captive with both of them: with Harry by the Ocampa, and Tom by the Vidiians. I'd been with them in situations of extreme fear and stress, I said, and I was one of the few people who could spot problems they might have adjusting after their ordeal. So she told me about the clamp and Tom's stab wound, their fight for survival, and last, she told me about Harry's guilt.

Oh, shit, I thought. This is going to be hell for Harry.

Kes made me promise not to tell anyone what I knew. She only discovered what had happened when Harry talked in his sleep, and she didn't want to break a sickbed confidence. I promised, of course. What else could I do?

Purely coincidentally, I found myself outside sickbay when they were released, and saw them walking down the corridor together. Paris was in big-brother mode, talking about food. They needed some quiet time, so I stayed back, just watching them. Everything looked pretty calm, but warning signals went up when Harry turned to Tom and proceeded to heap guilt all over himself.

Oh Harry, I thought. Don't take all this on yourself. It wasn't your fault.

Tom looked at him intently, as if he were trying to communicate something important through his eyes, and his answer made me forget to breathe. ". . . 'That man is my friend. Nobody touches him.' I'll remember that for a long time." Harry stared at him, and I could read the guilt warring with. . . love. Gods, it was love on his face. Then the moment passed and they were back to food.

Men.

This was going to be very interesting.


Three weeks later, I was sitting at the bar in Sandrine's. Things had been busy during those weeks, but the Harry and Tom front was calm enough. Harry seemed quieter than usual, a bit brittle perhaps, but he appeared to settle back into the shipboard routine. Tom had managed a tentative flirt with me, which I quashed but welcomed as a sign of his recovery. He also seemed to be trying to be less 'hotshot pilot,' which was a pleasant change. For the first time, I actually enjoyed being around him for more than five minutes. We ate together, played pool, and did the usual things. But Harry never played his clarinet, and there was no sign that they had acknowledged those emotions I'd witnessed in the corridor. I didn't know whether to be happy or sad about that.

There weren't many crew members at Sandrine's yet. Ensign Bristow had come over to the bar and tried a new line on me, but I sent him on his way, and now he was in the corner, chatting with some petite brunette from Security. For the life of me, I couldn't remember her name.

There was a hubbub at the door and a group of about ten came in. I sat back to watch how they paired off - there were a number of 'unofficial' wagers going on in Engineering regarding who would do what with whom by a particular date. I don't bet, but I liked to keep up with the current gossip. It's amazing what a particularly juicy piece can get you - either to disclose or keep a secret.

In the middle of the group were Harry and Tom. They smiled and chatted, and eventually sat down with the Delaneys - Tom beside Megan, and Harry with Jenny. Now I personally have nothing against pert blondes, but those two. . . They were like the ultimate junk food - the subject of lots of cravings, but with no nutritional value.

Chakotay came over and sat beside me, and we talked for a while. Correction. I talked and he listened. I've got a soft spot in my heart for that man. I've seen him practically rip people in two during a fight, and yet he turns into a marshmallow when he looks at the Captain. He can't tell her how he feels - partly because he's still feeling guilty about the Seska incident, and partly because he's convinced she'd laugh at him, or turn him down, or something. It's obvious to everyone but him that she'd like to see all his tattoos, but can't break out of her Iron Captain role to tell him. So Itold him to have his spirit guide talk to her spirit guide to see if they could work things out, and then grinned before he hit me. I swear, if he doesn't do something soon, I'll take matters into my own hands. All this human courtship shit is making me crazy.

When I finally turned back to Harry and Tom, things were very strange. There was Tom, talking quietly to Megan, not touching her, not even that interested in her, if you could go by looks. But Harry. . .

He had Jenny in a clinch that would've made a Klingon proud, and was giving her what looked like the kiss of a lifetime. Harry. Kissing. In public.

I thought I was hallucinating.

If it had been Tom, I wouldn't have thought twice. I don't know if he bedded every woman he kissed in here, but even at a fifty percent success rate he'd have a respectable score. And the scuttlebutt among the female crew was that he was an incredible kisser, although I never heard any comment, good or bad, about his other talents.

Tom glanced over at Harry and went very still, like he does when something upsets him but he doesn't want the world to know. I remembered the look he gave Harry three weeks ago. Does he realize he's in love with Harry? And what about the way Harry looked at Tom? I couldn't be mistaken. It was too clear. But what was going on with Harry now? Someone was going to get their heart broken, and it looked like Tom.

I didn't like it. I didn't like it at all.


The next day, I tracked down Tom in the mess. He was eating alone, his back to the room and to Harry. He sat with Jenny in the corner, talking loudly about kicking Kazon butt. I wondered briefly if that Q creature had impersonated Harry and was playing with our minds, but quickly dismissed that thought. It was possible for Harry to be a jerk entirely on his own, even if I hadn't ever seen him be one before.

"Hey," I said, setting down my tray of yellow glop and sliding in next to Tom. He had his fork in his hand, but although he kept poking it into his tray of sludge, it didn't look as if he had managed to eat any. And he had his 'Tom Paris, Professional' face on. I hate that look - it's too close to 'Tom Paris, Zombie.' Before I could think, I said, "Why's a good-looking guy like you eating alone?"

Ah, shit. I don't flirt with Paris - he doesn't need any encouragement. I have no idea why I said that, except maybe he looked like he could use a few kind words, and I still felt I owed him for his help when I was messed up by the Vidiians.

"I'm not eating alone." He smiled. One of his real smiles. He has this wardrobe of fake smiles that set my teeth on edge. But when he gives you a real one, he's not a bad person to be around.

"What is this?" I said, prodding my dinner. He opened his mouth to reply, but then Harry shouted "We showed them some fucking technology!" Tom's head jerked around, like everyone else's, to stare at Harry. Jenny giggled and preened, and Harry basked in the attention. "Stupid fucking Kazon," he added, and looked around the mess with a smile that made Tom's fake ones seem beautiful.

After a long moment everyone went back to their meals with a furtive air. They were discussing Harry. Tom just stared at his food, not even pretending to eat.

"I didn't think Harry knew words like that," I said. "When did he become an asshole?"

"I thought I knew him, B'Elanna." His voice was soft and I leaned forward to hear better. "I thought he was my best friend. . . "

"Tom, B'Elanna!" Harry's voice made me jump. It was too loud, too insistent. He stood beside us, his arm around Jenny, squeezing her into his side. Tom went pale. "Wanna share a holosuite? We're going to run Jenny's 'Slave Girls of Naxos' program, and I know there are some pieces of cunt in there that you'd like, Tom. And B'Elanna. . . " He leered at me! Harry, who never leered at anything in his life. ". . . there's a slave boy in there who can make you come. . . "

"Thanks, Harry," I said quickly. "But I've got to get back to duty soon, and Tom said he'd help me with some realignments. . . "

"Sure, sure," he said, gesturing expansively. "We'll just have to fuck enough for four people," he said, and grabbed Jenny's face, giving her a massive kiss.

I wanted to gag.

When they were gone I turned to Tom and asked, "Am I the only person who feels like I've stepped in shit?"

He gave a hollow approximation of a laugh. "No. I'm with you."

"Tom," I said, trying to be gentle, which is not easy for a Klingon, "shouldn't we tell the Doctor about this?"

"I have. The Doc said that he's going through a 'period of adjustment.'" I snorted and he turned to me. "Don't. He's right. I remember after I was cashiered from Starfleet. I hated who I was, who I'd become. So I drank, and whored, and was as loud and obnoxious as I could be. After all, if I hated myself, why shouldn't everyone else hate me?"

"And you think this is what's happening to Harry?"

He shrugged. "I don't know." He sounded exhausted and defeated.

"Listen, I have to get back to Engineering. Meet me in Sandrine's at 2200. I think we need to talk about this."

"Okay," he said, and sighed.

Oh great, I thought. Harry's doing his best to impersonate an asshole, and Tom's in major human weenie mode. Well, B'Elanna, it's not the first time you've had to save people from themselves.


I was running a few minutes late, and by the time I reached Sandrine's Tom was already there, two glasses of wine in front of him. He was staring off into space, his mind obviously not on the pool players in front of him.

"Drinking with both hands?" I asked.

"Yeah." He blushed. He's really not bad-looking when he gets some color in his face. It sets off his blue eyes and that golden hair. I don't usually go for pasty-faced guys, but a pink Tom looked. . . interesting. I found myself wondering how pink would look on the rest of him.

Stop it, I reminded myself. We're here to discuss Harry.

I enjoyed sitting with him. He roused himself from his daydreams and asked me about life in Engineering. So I told him the story about Carey and the Jefferies tube and he chuckled. Then he told me about a similar incident when he was at the Academy. And I managed to top that with a names-changed-to-protect-the-innocent story from the Maquis. He laughed.

"Tell me it was Chakotay," he said, snickering. "Please, tell me it was Chakotay. . . "

"Forget it, Paris. There are some secrets I'll take with me to my grave." I leaned over and continued, "But we called the marks 'Indian cave paintings' for weeks afterward. . . "

He laughed until tears came. "Thanks," he said when he finally could speak. "I haven't laughed like that since we got back. . . " And he quickly sobered.

Hell.

We sipped our wine, and, not for the first time, I wished it wasn't that damned synthehol. I wanted to get roaring drunk, break some chairs, and maybe beat up Harry for disappointing me.

Instead, I leaned over and kissed Tom.

If you asked me at that point 'why did you kiss him?' I couldn't have told you. At least I'd've dressed it up with excuses about him being lonely, or me trying to get his mind off Harry. Or even that I wanted to find out of the rumors were right. Anything but the truth.

I must admit he recovered quickly. It only took him a few seconds to get over his shock and respond. And yes, they were right. He is an incredible kisser.

The problem with most human men is that they're more concerned about ranking their performance than actually kissing. Like a scorecard: tongue sucking: 2, lip biting: 3, duration: 30 seconds. You can hear them adding up the totals in their head. Tom wasn't like that. He paid attention to me, as if I was the most important thing in his universe.

I was the one who finally pulled away. That was only because the words "What have I done?" wandered through what was left of my mind. My body, however, protested - it was having far too much fun to stop now.

Tom sat there, his face in half-shadow, looking at me as if he could read my expression. Then he shifted and leaned forward. "You realize that everyone's looking at us, and every mouth in the place is hanging open. . . " He smiled again, and his eyes were bright and blue and utterly transparent, allowing me to see completely inside him. I liked what I saw.

"Let 'em look," I said, not bothering to turn around. "Maybe they'll learn something." And I kissed him again.

This time I didn't pull back. His kiss was doing wonderful things to my body, especially places that hadn't seen much action over the past few years. I felt every separate muscle inside me, stretching, shifting, preparing for. . .

"B'Elanna?" he said, breaking contact. "I'd really rather not go on report for public lewdness. . . " His voice was rough, and he panted in the most endearing way.

I sighed. Starfleet regulations could definitely cramp a good time. . .

"Okay. You're probably right." I downed the rest of my wine and another thought occurred to me. Maybe he just didn't want to go any further with me. . .

It wouldn't be the first time that had happened.

"Thanks," he said, and shifted again in his chair.

I took a perverse pride in the fact that his voice was still shaky. Even if he didn't want me, I made him uncomfortable. Good.

That'd teach him to be such a great kisser.

"Hey, no problem." I snatched up my glass and didn't look at him. "Think I'll get some more wine."

"Wait!" He grabbed my wrist. I stifled the urge to pull free and snap his wrist in return. "B'Elanna, dammit, sit down!"

"Why? So you can feed me the ol' 'let's be friends' line?"

His eyes widened and he looked like I had struck him. "Is that what you think?" His fingers tightened around my wrist. "We need to talk. Now. Please sit down." Then he blushed and said more quietly, "Please, B'Elanna. Sit down. You've given me such a chubby that I can't get up and follow you. . . "

That did it. I laughed at the thought of poor Tom trying to pursue me with his uniform standing at attention and took pity on him. I sat down.

He stared down at the table, his hands folded in front of him. His face was placid, another Paris mask. His knuckles, however, were white.

"When I was in New Zealand," he began, "I made a few promises to myself about things I would do when I got out." The corner of his mouth quirked. "They mainly had to do with drinking. I didn't get the chance to keep those promises when I came on board Voyager, and I'm. . . glad." He hesitated. "When you and I were with the Vidiians, I made some other promises to myself. Like. . . " He paused.

"Like?" I finally prompted.

"Like not judging others quite so quickly, and seeing the real person inside every crewmember. And not being such a smartass. . . "

"And you kept those. More or less."

"Well, I tried." He glanced at me quickly. "This time. . . This time I just made two promises. To tell two people how I feel about them."

I suddenly understood. The look between them. Harry's crazy behavior. Tom's quiet depression.

"You told Harry how much you love him that night when you got back," I said, nodding to myself. It made perfect sense. . .

"No!"

"No? But. . . "

"I never said anything," he hissed. "We just had dinner and then he said he was tired and wanted to sleep. . . " He broke off, my words finally registering. "How did you know that?" He looked scared.

"It's okay. I happened to see you when you were going to dinner that night, and it was fairly obvious how you felt." And how Harry felt, I thought, but I didn't want to say that yet. I didn't want to build up his hopes when Harry was being so strange. . . At least, that's what I told myself. I put my hand on his, still clenched in front of him on the table. "No one else saw you, and I'd never say anything." Something flickered across his face; it looked like he was trying to smile. "Tell me what happened."

"Not a lot," he said. "I tried to reassure him that what happened wasn't his fault, and how much something he said meant to me. . . "

"I heard it." My voice was shaky, and I cleared my throat. "It was one of the most beautiful things I've ever heard."

"Yeah. I thought so, too." He took my hand between his, lacing his fingers with mine.

Concentrate, I told myself. This is comforting friend mode. Ignore what it's doing to your. . .

"And then?" I didn't care what my voice sounded like; I needed him to talk.

"Then we ate. He didn't say anything more about how he was feeling, and I thought it would be best to wait a few days before saying anything too. . . personal. So we kept it light, and when he said he wanted to get some sleep, I said 'sure' and left."

"And the next day he clammed up, and then he went nuts," I finished for him.

"That's pretty much it," he agreed.

I thought for a moment. "You could try telling him now. Maybe he'll listen."

"I don't think so. I wouldn't have."

"Then you'll have to wait until he comes to his senses. Unless you think a swift kick in the pants would help. I'd be happy to oblige."

"Thanks." He smiled, but shook his head. "I don't think that's going to help. I'll just have to be patient."

"I'm sorry." I meant it. It hurt me to see Harry be such a jerk, and I didn't even love him. I could imagine what it was doing to Tom. "While you're waiting for Harry to recover, why don't you go on to promise two?"

"Yeah. Actually, I was going to do that first, but then we got sidetracked onto Harry. . . " He squeezed my fingers and looked at me, and his expression took my breath away.

Once, when I was with the Maquis, I was flying a routine supply run. I'd never been to that particular base before, but a lot of people told me about the beautiful countryside. I ignored their comments; I was a Klingon, what the hell did I care about beautiful scenery? As I approached, the cloud cover was thick. It didn't bother the instruments, but I couldn't see a damn thing. It was like flying through Sandrine's on a bad night. Suddenly I was below the clouds, and the entire countryside was spread out in front of me. And it was the loveliest thing I had ever seen - green and peaceful, with a broad river slicing through the valley. It was the kind of place you dream about living in, especially right after a battle when all you see around you is death and destruction. . .

That's how Tom's expression looked. It hurt my eyes - I'd never seen anything half so beautiful. . .

But all that beauty was for Harry.

Shit.

"Harry's going to be one lucky guy," I said, because if I didn't say something I'd lose myself in those eyes.

"What is it with Harry? Will you shut up about him?" He rolled his eyes and squeezed my fingers again. "I'm not talking about Harry now. I said I had two promises, but I didn't number them. One isn't more important than the other. One isn't a substitute for the other. Do you understand?"

I nodded because I couldn't say anything. The strangest, most bizarre thought had just occurred to me. About what he was going to say. . .

"B'Elanna, I love you," he said softly, and then he raised my hand to his lips and kissed it.

I was so shocked I didn't even hit him.

I guess he took my silence as encouragement because he continued. "I know you don't think a lot of me sometimes. I don't think a lot of me sometimes. But thinking of you helped get me through those days in that hell hole. Remembering your courage and determination. . . " He brushed his lips over my fingers. I trembled. Klingons never tremble. But humans do. "Even if you beat me up, I wanted you to know how much you mean to me."

He looked at me warily, obviously waiting for my reaction. Hell, Iwas waiting for my reaction. Part of me wanted to pound him into the deck for making me feel vulnerable and wanted. . . Another part of me wanted to take him right there on the deck for making me feel vulnerable and wanted. Talk about your choices.

"I'm not going to beat you up," I said finally. He let out his breath - I hadn't realized he was holding it. "What I am going to do is. . . " And I told him, in explicit detail, exactly how I was going to fuck him senseless.

Wildman later told me that it only took five minutes for almost the entire crew to learn that Paris and I left Sandrine's arm-in-arm, me nuzzling his neck, and he patting my ass. Hell, it took longer than that for us to reach my quarters. I'll admit we did spend some time kissing in the turbolift, and there was a quick grope in that little blind corner en route, but we didn't really linger. Not much.

By the time we reached my door, I was so aroused that I could feel every millimeter of my uniform brushing against my skin, and he was flushed and panting. I really like Tom pink. It's a good color for him.

Then I got him inside and kissed him the way I wanted to. Hard. He gave back as good as he got until I hooked his legs out from under him and he landed flat on his back on the sofa, with me still on top.

"Hey! Remember I'm human," he said. "I'll break." His hands were still running up and down my back in the way that gave me shivers, so I knew he wasn't hurt. Much.

"Of course I remember. That's why I aimed you for the cushions." I licked the soft skin under his jaw and he let out a moan. "Crybaby."

"I swear, woman," he began, but by then I had unzipped the front of his uniform and slid my hands beneath his jersey. "I'm going to. . . " He stopped again when my fingers found his nipples. ". . . make you scream. . . " I admired his persistence, but decided that if he could talk I was doing something wrong, so I added my mouth to where my fingers were, and he shut up. Or rather, he stopped talking.

I played there for a while, admiring his darkening skin tone coupled with that lovely gold hair. It was gorgeous. He shifted beneath me and without fuss wriggled out of his jersey and had me stripped to the waist.

"Impressive technique. . . " I began, and he smiled wickedly.

"Just you wait."

Then he was doing things to my breasts that provided sensations I hadn't thought possible. I couldn't talk. The room darkened, although no one had dimmed the lights. I grabbed his hair and dragged him up to face me. No sense in finishing too quickly. I kissed him from ear to ear, from forehead to chin, avoiding his mouth. With a moan, he snared my chin and held me still, his lips covering mine. He rubbed up against me, his erection straining the fabric of his uniform. I rubbed my hand across it, and he jerked once and broke off our kiss.

"Red alert," he choked out. I almost felt sorry for him, then decided he was having much too much fun to feel sorry for.

I stood, kicked off my boots and stripped off the rest of my uniform while he did the same. He looked once toward the bedroom, but three meters was too far to go at that point. My body was one giant nerve- end, my heart was pounding, and how he thought he was going to walk with that waving in front of him was beyond me.

So I hooked his legs out from under him again. This time he landed on the deck.

"What the hell, B'Elanna! I'm going to. . . " He could talk, so I knew he wasn't winded. I dropped onto his chest, straddling his hips. He moaned again as I rubbed myself against him.

"You're going to what?" I breathed into his mouth before I kissed him.

He didn't even try to answer.

His hands stroked my breasts, my back, my ass as we kissed. He seemed to know exactly where to pinch and where to stroke, and I held desperately on to my self-control as I lowered myself onto him. I expected him to buck and come quickly, but he lay still, his skin quivering under my fingers. Then slowly, so slowly, he began to move.

I tried to speed things up, but he grabbed my hips and held me still, shaking his head once. I managed to withstand a couple of strokes, but then the need, the utter urgency to climax forced me to shift against him.

"No," he whispered, holding me tighter. "I want it to last. . . "

I tried to hold on but couldn't. I was too far gone to care about it lasting. I dragged his hands up to cup my breasts and writhed against him, teetering on that knife-edge for a long moment.

Then he suddenly bent his legs, grinding me forward onto his pubic bone and pinching my nipples at the same time. That was all I needed. The fall was indescribable, both frightening and delicious, and I felt him tense and thrust a final time before he cried out and pulled me down against him.

I have no idea how long we lay still, holding onto each other. I felt him slip out, but was too tired to move.

"B'Elanna," he finally said, stroking my back gently.

"Ummm?"

"I think my butt's asleep."

I bit his nipple just to hear him yelp and rolled off. He groaned and shifted over onto his side, propping his head in his hand. His skin was still flushed and glistened from sweat. Damp curls clung to his forehead, and his lips were parted and slightly swollen. Everything about him screamed 'take me.' So I had. And would again.

"I'm so glad Harry's a fool," I said.

He frowned and traced my lips with his finger. I gave it a kiss.

"I told you. You're not a substitute. I love you, and I had to tell you."

"And you have to tell him." I tried to make it sound reasonable - not the jealous words of a whining bitch.

He shrugged. "Maybe. Someday. If I can do it without hurting. . . " He hesitated, then all the words came out in a rush. ". . . without hurting whatever it is we have together."

Ahh. Poor Tom. I felt a twinge of guilt. After all, he'd confessed his feelings to me, and all I'd given him in return was half-an-hour of sweaty exercise. He could've gotten the same workout in the gym.

How did I feel about him? I liked him, more than I ever thought I would. But love. . . that was another matter entirely.

"I'm glad you told me how you feel," I began, suddenly nervous. "It's very flattering. . . "

He flopped onto his back without warning, his eyes closed, face shuttered. "But I only think of you as my brother, so can't we still be friends," he glibly rattled off, sounding exhausted.

Shit. He didn't even let me finish. I grabbed his wrists and dragged him up until he was sitting, facing me. "Now you listen to me, Tom Paris. I don't think of you as my brother, otherwise we'd be committing incest. Believe me, I plan on taking you as often as I get the chance. But," I placed a finger on his lips as he began to speak, "be fair. You've thought about all this for a while. You've figured out how you feel and acted on it. Give me the same time to sort out my feelings." He gave me a mischievous look and started sucking on my finger, and I started having trouble concentrating on the rest of what I wanted to say. "I like you. I may feel more, but I need to. . . " By then, his other hand had snaked between my thighs and I completely forgot. . . whatever.

This time, I let him make it to the bed before I took him.

The bed was a wreck, but we had managed to stay on it, more or less. Afterwards, I lay sprawled across him, my head pillowed on that soft triangle between his shoulder, neck and ribs. He stretched lazily beneath me, muscles moving smoothly under that wonderful skin. It would not be difficult to become very attached to that skin, and maybe to the person inside.

"Hey," he said, stroking my back gently. "Are you always that thorough?"

"What do you mean?" I tickled the little hollow under his jaw, still red from a particularly delicious kiss.

"I don't think there's a place on me that you haven't kissed or nibbled or stroked or scratched," he said. "I just wondered if you were as thorough with the engines."

"Of course." I twisted around and looked at him. "I like knowing everything about my tools. . . "

"Tools?" He raised his eyebrows, then chuckled. "Everything? Then you need to know about. . . " He pulled me up to face him, then claimed my mouth with a kiss that seemed to go on forever.

"I'm glad you showed me. . . " I murmured when I could breathe again. "Besides, you're thorough, too."

"Oh? I thought I missed a couple of places." His hands traveled down my sides.

"No, you didn't." I trapped his hands beneath me. "I meant that you take great care to get certain things right. Like Sandrine's." He raised his eyebrows and gave me that 'you're joking' look. "It must've taken you weeks to create that program."

"Hey, anyone could. . . "

"Maybe. But only if they really cared about getting every detail right. And even then they wouldn't have been able to create the atmosphere. Why does everyone like to hang out there?"

"Because they can pick up beautiful women?" He gave me his innocent look, but I smacked him anyway.

"Hey!"

"No, you idiot! Because it's intimate and informal, a place where you can have fun or brood or meet your lover. . . " I fished his hands out from between us and kissed each finger. "That was your work. You should be proud of it."

He put on his hotshot mask and for a minute I thought he was going to hide behind another smartass comment. Then he let the mask slip away. "I am," he said softly. "I created it when I needed an anchor, someplace familiar. Now it'll be special because that's where you first kissed me." He grinned. "In front of everybody."

"Humph. I was only feeling sorry for you. . . "

"Why, you. . . " He had me over on my back in a flash, and began tickling me unmercifully. I let him. Once in a while it's more fun to let someone else do all the work.


We walked into the mess together for breakfast. Someone, I couldn't tell who, clapped twice, but I put my hands on my hips and glared. It stopped. That would give them something to buzz about in Stellar Cartography.

"Come on, Tom. Let's get some breakfast. I'm awfully hungry. . . "

Neelix smiled and handed us something lumpy and beige, and we sat facing each other at a table in the corner.

"What's so funny," he said, eyebrows raised. I tried to smooth the smile from my lips, but gave up.

"I like looking at you. . . Especially first thing in the morning, when you wake up with. . . "

"B'Elanna!" He was blushing again. Excellent. I decided that Tom really did look good pink, and that I should make sure he was that color often. He leaned forward and covered my hand with his own. "By the way, where did you learn to. . . "

I didn't hear the rest because Harry walked through the door and saw us. I guess he was one of the five percent of the crew who didn't know about us kissing in Sandrine's and leaving arm-in-arm. For two seconds he was stunned - bug-eyed and slack-jawed - then he reddened, turned on his heel and walked out the door.

"Shit. . . "

"What is it?" Tom twisted around in his seat, but by then Harry had disappeared.

"Harry saw us."

Tom chewed on his lip for a second. "How did he look?"

"Surprised."

"I guess he and Jenny didn't make it to Sandrine's last night. He had to find out sometime." He shrugged, but I could see through his nonchalance. This was not the way that he - that either of us - wanted Harry to find our about our. . . involvement.

I wasn't very hungry after all.


We were supposed to meet for lunch, but I couldn't get away. So I didn't see Tom until later that day, when I had to meet with the Captain to discuss some system modifications I thought could improve engine efficiency.

I was running late, of course, and dashed into the Captain's ready room without more than a quick glance at Tom, sitting at conn. I caught a flash of his smile, though, and that warmed me in a particular place. If I wasn't careful, I could grow to. . .

That thought was quickly suppressed.

I explained my ideas to the Captain, and she asked several pertinent questions. The woman has the heart and soul of an engineer. Maybe that's why we get along so well together, despite her commitment to Starfleet and my wariness of the 'uniform mentality.'

Then she asked Harry in to give his opinion on a few matters. That's when the trouble started. Not immediately, because we resolved the first three issues without any difficulty. I was glad to see that mentally he was as sharp as ever. But it was issue four, which I admit was fairly radical, that set him off.

"B'Elanna, it's not going to work." His voice was edgy, and the Captain glanced at him, brows raised. "Those circuits were never designed to. . . "

"I know. The whole point is to expand. . . " I tried to stay calm.

"But if you look at this. . . " His voice rose.

"That's why I've compensated. . . "

"Damn the compensation! It won't fucking work!" He slammed his fists down on the table. He glared at me, and all I saw in his eyes was hate.

"Mr. Kim." The Captain didn't raise her voice, but he snapped his head up as if she had smacked him. "Remember where you are."

"My apologies, Captain." He licked his lips, but didn't look at me. A crease appeared between his brows, and he looked all of eighteen. Very vulnerable and very scared. "B'El. . . Lieutenant, I'm sorry. I forgot myself."

"Don't let it happen again, Ensign." She looked down at her padd. "We were discussing the question of compensating. . . "

A chink in his armor. . . This might be the time to see if we couldn't talk some sense into him. I made a couple of quick decisions, not even dreaming that they might lead to disaster.


"Ensign Kim is in the mess hall," said the computer.

"Good."

I had briefed Tom about this afternoon, and he agreed that he might be able to get through to Harry. It was early. Jenny Delaney was still on duty, and I hoped Harry would be eating dinner alone. Certainly no one else was hanging out with him now.

The plan was that Tom would go in first, sit with Harry, and tell him about his promise. I'd watch from the sidelines and wait for the heads- up from Tom before coming over. We agreed it was best not to crowd Harry right now, and if he was angry with me about being with Tom, it would be kindest not to rub his face in it.

Harry was sitting alone, his back to the door. Tom grabbed some food and walked over to him. He spoke to Harry, obviously asking if he could join him, and Harry nodded once.

Tom slid in, facing me, and started to speak. He didn't say more than a few words before Harry started shaking his head.

Damn.

Tom leaned forward, still speaking, but Harry just kept shaking his head. Suddenly, Harry jumped up, sending the trays flying. "Shut up! Shut up! I wish you'd died! I wish I'd left you there. . . " And he raised his fist.

I was already half-way across the room. Tom just stood there, arms at his sides, not even trying to defend himself. I could hear him saying "The anger will pass, Harry. You can't hold onto it. Let me help you. . . "

Then Harry shouted "No!" and slammed his fist into the wall beside Tom. Tom flinched, but didn't move away or raise his hands. I reached them and spun Harry around, ready to break his arm if he tried to hit Tom again.

His face. . . Brows lowered, eyes dark and sharp as shattered glass, color in blotches across his cheeks. He looked like a madman.

"You slut. . . " He wrenched free and stumbled out of the mess.

Tom's face was so pale I thought he was going to faint. I put an arm around him and dragged him to a clean table.

"Sit before you collapse." "I'm not going to collapse." He sat down suddenly, as if his legs gave way.

"How far did you get?" I asked, sliding in next to him.

"Not far." His eyes were dark, but he didn't look away. "I told him I understood how angry he was, and how much it hurt. I told him he was feeling out of control, but that we would help him. . . "

I felt a hollow grow in the pit of my stomach. "We?"

He nodded, his eyes sliding to the table, and his color rose. "Yeah. I blew it. I've been thinking 'we' so much today that it just slipped out. . . "

"It's okay. I'd have done the same thing." He squeezed my hand and gave me a grateful look. "Do you think he was listening before you got to the 'we?'"

"It's hard to say, but. . . I think so."

"Tom, you said you felt this way after leaving Starfleet, right?" Something tickled at the back of my mind.

"Yeah."

"How long did it last?"

He took a deep breath. "On some level, until a couple of years ago."

"That's a long time." He nodded, looking somber. "Do you remember anything that helped you lose that anger?"

"Of course. The Captain's confidence and Harry's friendship. . . " His voice trailed off as the light dawned.

"It didn't happen right away," I pressed on. "You're right." He managed a smile. "We just have to keep on trying."

"Absolutely. After all, Harry's worth the trouble."

"We'll have to keep an eye on him, though. He could snap and become violent again."

"I know. I just hope he doesn't hurt himself or anyone else before we can get through to him."


We spent a couple of hours at Sandrine's that evening. I wasn't in the mood to play pool, so I sat with Chakotay and watched Tom square off against the Captain. Tom seemed more relaxed than he'd been for the past several weeks, so I leaned back and indulged myself, imagining some new and interesting ways to enjoy him.

"Does the poor guy even have a chance, Torres?" Chakotay leaned across the table and grinned.

"Nah. But he doesn't seem to be struggling much."

"Just let him up for air once in a while."

"Sure."

The Captain and Tom were pretty evenly matched until she made a one-of-a-kind, incredible shot, then he threw up his hands and admitted defeat.

"Hail the conquering Captain comes," he said as he sat next to me. The Captain settled herself next to Chakotay.

"I'm glad you're better at the helm than with a cue," she replied, smiling at Tom. Our conversation turned general, then specific: to wit, one Harry Kim.

"Tom, do you have any idea what's wrong with Harry?" The Captain's voice was gentle.

He glanced at me, and I nodded in agreement. She should know what was going on. So he explained our theories about Harry's actions, leaving out any mention of promises. When he finished, she sighed.

"I'll agree to wait a little longer, but if either of you suspects that he will become a danger to himself or anyone else on this ship, you must tell me."

Of course we agreed - we would've insisted if she hadn't requested it first. The whole point was to help Harry as soon as he would allow us.

We talked a little longer, and then the Captain turned to Chakotay and spoke softly. He answered her just as quietly. At last! I thought, and just as I was enjoying their guarded but intimate looks at each other, Tom nudged me under the table with his knee.

"I think I'm going to call it a night," he said, standing.

I scowled at him for a second; I'd waited a long time for those two to finally find each other, and he wants to leave just as it was getting good. . . Then I remembered a few of the ideas I'd had earlier. So I smiled at him. He understood exactly what I was thinking, and I laughed as fear battled lust in his expression. Lust won.


When we walked into breakfast together the next morning, no one even raised an eyebrow.

"So much for our fifteen minutes of fame," Tom murmured as we sat.

We were about half-way done when Harry and Jenny walked in, his arm around her shoulders. He looked at us, acknowledging Tom's smile with a nod, then whispered something in Jenny's ear. His eyes never left us. Jenny giggled, turned pink, and glanced at us in a way that conveyed the gist of Harry's comment.

"Shit," said Tom softly, turning red.

Now it's cute when mild embarrassment and sex make Tom blush. But when someone deliberately hurts him, I get angry. I moved slightly and caught Harry's eye. He froze and paled, which pleased me - my message was clear. Then he grabbed Jenny's chin and kissed her.

Okay, so he could send clear messages, too.

I sat there, glaring at him, and was tempted to take Tom on the deck in the mess just to make a point. No, I dismissed the thought. Tom was too important to me - our relationship was too important to me to do that. Although it was tempting.

Tom leaned close and draped his arm around my shoulders. Harry's eyes widened a fraction - I don't think he could help it, although the rest of his face was as expressionless as a mask. Good idea, Tom, I thought, so I smiled sweetly at Harry and gave Tom a gentle kiss on the cheek, right on that tender spot just in front of his ear.

After all, we were in uniform, and the mess hall wasn't Sandrine's.

Finally they turned away, carrying their breakfast across the room. Tom left his arm around me and pressed me close. I admit I liked it. I could feel him breathe, feel the smooth movement of the muscles that fascinated me last night. . . I love my job, I love Voyager, but there's no substitute for waking up next to the one you. . .

Oh hell. There was too much going on to think about that. The problem was, I suspected I already knew the answer to how I felt about Tom. If I asked myself. So I didn't. There would be time for that once we got Harry straightened out.

Tom brushed his lips across my forehead. "I love you, B'Elanna."

"You're not so bad yourself." I smiled at him. I guess my expression was easy to read, because he suddenly grinned.

"That'll do for now, but I want to hear the words tonight."

"If you're not careful," I murmured into his ear, "you'll be too exhausted to listen to anything tonight."

"I'm willing to take my chances."


Of course we ended up at Sandrine's after dinner. I don't know why, but Tom and that smoky atmosphere seemed to go together. Maybe it was because they both left me gasping.

The Captain and Chakotay were huddled in a corner and, as much as I wanted to sit near them and listen in, I let Tom drag me across the room.

"Let them have some privacy," he said. "Besides, I can't trust myself to behave if I sit in a dark corner with you." He leered at me genially.

So we sat at the bar. Megan Delaney wandered in a little later, looking forlorn. Despite the fact that she was not my favorite person, I felt sorry for her - with Harry monopolizing Jenny and Tom hanging out with me, her usual admirers were otherwise occupied. When she looked in our direction, I smiled and motioned her over.

"Since when did you start taking in stray cats?" Tom asked under his breath.

"I thought I was supposed to be the bitchy one," I replied.

She got a drink, sat down next to us and proceeded to whine about her work, her social life, her hair (at that point I turned to Tom and rolled my eyes), and her sister.

"I never even see her anymore," she said, stirring her drink. It was pale pink and frothy, and looked like something she'd wear to a wedding. Something I wouldn't be caught dead in. "She's always with Harry, and they're either running a private holoprogram, or in his room." She gave us a resentful look. "I tried to get them to come here with me. But she won't go anywhere without Harry, and Harry won't go anywhere he can see you two together. . . "

"I know," said Tom. "We both feel bad about that."

"Not as bad as he feels," she replied with a snort. "Jenny says she never knows what he's going to be like from one minute to the next. Yesterday he really scared her."

"How?" Tom kept his voice steady. I was proud of him.

"Well, we were supposed to meet for dinner. Jenny promised!" Her voice went up an octave. "She went to Harry's room to get him, and there he was, crying, saying both of you betrayed him. And when she finally got him calmed down, he suddenly started pounding the walls. They never did meet me, and I had to eat by myself," she sulked.

"Do you think we should tell the Captain?" I murmured to Tom as Megan brooded over her drink.

He looked over at the corner where the Captain and Chakotay sat. His eyes were dark and his face was drawn with worry. "Not yet. . . I want to try to talk to him again."

"I don't think that's such a good idea," I began.

"Let me try once more," he pleaded. "He's not just angry now. Maybe I can get through to him."

"What if he gets violent?" I remembered Harry's reaction in the mess. "Will you even try to defend yourself?"

He shrugged. "I don't know." He took my hand and ran his fingers gently down the back. "I can't hurt him, B'Elanna. I did that in prison, and I won't do it now."

I could see in his face that he had made up his mind. Once Tom makes a decision, not much will change his mind. It's both his strength and his weakness. I gave in. "Okay, one more try. But only if I'm there. If he gets violent, I don't want the Doc to have to patch you up."

"Agreed." He gave my hand a squeeze. "See you, Megan."

"Hey!" she said, looking up from her drink. "I thought we were having a conversation here. . . "

We left her exclaiming loudly about the rudeness of some people.

"I don't know what you ever saw in her," I said as we took the lift to Harry's quarters.

"Let's see. There was youth, beauty, and a whine that gives me the shivers. Gods," he shook his head, "I don't think I ever actually listened to her voice."

"No," I agreed. "You were too busy looking at her breasts."

"Well," he replied judiciously, "they aren't bad breasts, but they're not as beautiful as yours." He kissed me.

We didn't stop the turbolift for long, but three people were waiting when the door finally slid open. Three very unhappy people.

"Sorry," said Tom with a smile.

"You look real sorry, Paris."

"We can't help our looks, can we, Briggs," he replied with a wink.

"Come on, Tom." I grabbed his hand. "We've got work to do." We left them standing with their mouths open.


We were a few meters from Harry's room when his door slid open, but no one came out.

"Dammit Harry, don't touch me!"

It was Jenny's voice.

"Come back here."

That was Harry. An angry Harry.

We both leapt forward as the door shut.

"Hell!" Tom thudded into the wall.

"Stop it!" Jenny's voice was muffled through the door.

"Open the door, B'Elanna!" Tom was frantic.

I keyed in the code and the door slid open. The room was dim, and it took a moment for my eyes to adjust. Jenny was wrapped in a blanket, her back pressed against the bulkhead. Harry stood naked before her, shaking with rage. They didn't even notice us.

"Don't you dare say any more about them!" Harry practically growled, and took a step toward her.

"But you said that they made you sick!" Jenny interrupted, clutching the blanket around her tightly.

"You make me sick, you. . . " And he lunged forward.

Jenny screamed. I sprang and tackled Harry, bringing him down at Jenny's feet.

"Help her," I said to Tom as I pinned Harry to the deck. "Get her out of here!"

Tom bundled Jenny out of the room. I just hoped she didn't make a complaint about Harry.

Harry.

He lay face-down beneath me, panting. I shifted to the side, wary of retaliation, but he didn't move. When I slid off him, he gasped, then curled up, face to knees, wrapping his arms around his shins. His back shook once, then again.

He was crying.

Gods. . .

"Harry, don't. . . " I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him close. "Don't cry, love. Don't cry. . . " He turned his face into my shoulder and sobbed as if his heart were breaking. I murmured all the soothing things I could think of and stroked his back. "Love, you don't need to cry. I'm here. . . I'll always be here."

I kept stroking his back and shoulders, rocking gently, babbling softly, and gradually his sobs died down. We sat there, silent for a moment.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice muffled by my shoulder. "I'm so sorry. . . " He pulled away and hugged his knees, head bent, his thick hair falling forward. "Don't. . . Don't touch me."

"Why not? Please tell me, Harry."

"Why not?" He looked at me like I was crazy. "Because I hit the friend I was supposed to protect, because I wanted to escape and leave him behind!" His voice dropped to a whisper. "I wanted him to die. . . "

"No, you didn't. It was that thing, that clamp they used on you. It wasn't you."

"It was. . . " He rocked back and forth, eyes closed. "It was me. I wanted to kill him. . . "

"It wasn't you," I repeated, reaching out and stroking his arm, "it was the clamp. . . "

"Listen to me, damn you!" He grabbed my wrist and shook it. I bit my lip - I would not hit him. He continued, the pain visible on his face. "I wanted to kill him after we got back!"

"After?" I didn't understand. "Why?"

"Because he knew what had happened in there. . . " His voice was a whisper. "I was weak and he saw it. I couldn't control myself. And he couldn't hide how much he loathed me. . . "

"No! That's not true. Tom never loathed you. He understands how you feel, and he wants to help you." He was shivering, and I tried to wrap my arms around him.

"I said don't touch me!" He scrambled across the deck, brought up short by the chair.

"I'm just trying to help!"

"Then stay away!" He looked at me again. The pain in his face slashed deep inside me, and I had trouble drawing breath.

"Why? We were such friends. What did I do. . . "

"You love him!" His voice trembled and broke. "And I wanted you to love me. . . " His breath came in gasps as he struggled for control.

I froze. I had to tell him the truth, but who would tell it to me? What did I feel for Tom, for Harry? It was there in my heart, buried in that place I had ignored for a long time. But I couldn't ignore it any longer; I had to be brave and acknowledge what I found there. I took a deep breath. Damn it, I wasn't half-Klingon for nothing!

What I found made me smile.

"I do love you," I said, trying to convince him with my voice.

He looked up, bewildered. "But what about Tom?"

I shrugged. "Tom will have to tell you that he loves you himself."

"What!"

"Oh, sure. Leave me all the tough jobs," said Tom. "I knocked, but no one heard, so I let myself in." He slowly walked over to us with the blanket folded over his arm. The blanket that Jenny had been wearing. . .

"How is she?" I didn't care about her, but I wanted to know if Harry was going to receive a visit from Security soon.

"Jenny's okay. Megan's there. She's not going to make trouble." He knelt next to me, devouring Harry with his eyes. I thought he might cry, but he suddenly quirked his mouth. "Harry, you're cold. Here." He held out the blanket.

Harry tried to take the blanket, but fumbled and dropped it. He glanced at Tom, eyes wide with fear. And hope.

"Let me help. . . " Tom dragged the blanket around his shoulders and pulled it snug. He tucked the edges in around his bare toes. "There. Better?"

Harry nodded, then lowered his eyes.

"Listen," began Tom gently, settling in beside Harry, "I know what you've been going through. I remember the anger and frustration and helplessness. You feel like you've lost control of your life and emotions. The only thing that helps is to talk loud without listening to what you're saying, to be close to someone without sharing your thoughts and heart, and to make those you love hurt as much as you do. . . "

"Yeah. It helped at first, but now it doesn't anymore." He tried to sound tough.

"That's because you're not really that person. You tried him on for size, but he didn't fit. And now you don't know who you are. . . "

"I don't know anything!" He sounded more confused than outraged. "There we were, catching the local sights on shore leave, when we were blown up, arrested, interrogated and jailed. And when I get in prison, you hit me and spout some crazy shit about me betraying you. . . " He shook his head.

Tom closed his eyes briefly. "I'm sorry. I didn't want you to get hurt."

"You already said that."

Tom paled at the cold brutality of his words. I clenched my fist. Why? I had no idea. I couldn't hit Harry, but I wanted to make him stop saying those things. Tom caught my movement, shook his head slightly and tried to grin. I've seen better smiles on dead men.

"Then I'll say it again. It was the only way I could think of to keep you safe."

"Safe?" He looked at Tom, astonished. "Safe? You couldn't keep me safe, and I couldn't. . . " His face crumpled. "I couldn't. . . "

Tom grabbed Harry's shoulders and gave him a shake. "You did! You did protect me! Harry, I told you I'll never forget what you said and did for me! How can you doubt that?"

"I don't," he whispered. "But now you've left me, and taken B'Elanna. . . "

"I haven't left you. And nobody takes B'Elanna anywhere she doesn't want to go. . . "

Harry looked up, not taking his eyes off Tom. His expression was completely transparent. He adored Tom. And from Tom's expression, the feeling was mutual.

"Harry," Tom said softly, "I made two promises in prison. One was. . . "

I closed my eyes and tuned out Tom's words.

I wanted to be glad for them. I really did.

I couldn't.

I loved them both, and they were both lost to me. I'd waited too long. If I'd told Tom sooner. . . If I'd understood what Harry meant to me. . .

I was too late.

"My love." Tom's voice whispered in my head. I thought it was my regrets until a finger traced the path of a single tear down my cheek and jaw. "B'Elanna. . . Look at me."

I did.

He knelt before me with such a tender expression that I thought I must be hallucinating. Or dead.

"I love you, remember?"

"Yeah." It was too late, but I had to let him know. "I love you, too."

A ghost of a smile appeared at the corners of his mouth, and his eyes widened a fraction. "I told you that you'd say it tonight. . . "

I swallowed hard. "Good for you. Now you two go play nice. I'm outta here. . . " I started to rise, but he held me tightly.

"Listen to me! You're not a substitute for Harry. You've never been one. I love you, and I love him. And Harry says the same thing." I took a deep breath. That changed everything. He cupped my face with his hands. "The questions is, what the hell are we going to do about it?"

Was that all he was worried about? "Well, if you think I'm going to give up either of you," I said, trying not to sniffle, "you're sorely mistaken."

He chuckled and looked relieved. "Pay attention, Harry. 'Sore' is the operative word here. . . "

"And I was trying so hard to be gentle with you." I slid my hand around the back of his neck and pulled him to me. "Harry and I'll just have to make sure the bruises don't show." I watched him turn pink before I kissed him.

His color had deepened when we finished - like a good cook, I could now gauge his 'doneness' by his color. I stroked him experimentally. Hmmm. He wasn't nearly ready to be tasted yet. . .

"Harry," I said, reaching out my free hand to him, "while Tom simmers, there are a couple of things I'd like to show you. . . "

We were very gentle with Harry - I insisted we use the bed. Tom complained about Harry getting preferential treatment, so I rolled Tom off the bed and took him on the deck. I even made sure he'd have a few bruises.

He stopped complaining after that, and we concentrated on Harry again. I was delighted to discover that his skin turns apricot when he's aroused - it makes a delicious contrast to Tom's pink.

Afterward, I knelt on the bed, looking at the two of them - sweaty, disheveled, dark-eyed with exhaustion. Friends. Lovers. The two people who meant most to me in the universe.

And I could play with them any time I wanted.

Harry stirred, and I gave him credit. After what he'd been through, I was surprised he didn't sleep for a week. "Tom?" he croaked.

"Yeah?" Tom groaned as he rolled over and wrapped his arms around Harry.

"Is she always like this?"

"Nah. She's holding back. . . "

"Oh." Harry stroked Tom's damp hair and suddenly smiled.

"Why?"

"Because I just thought of something I want to try out on her, and I'm going to need your help." He whispered into Tom's ear.

"What a great idea!" Tom grinned wickedly.

"Now?"

"Now!"

I sat still as they scrambled over the bed to me. I couldn't wait to find out what they had in mind.

Let's just say that the old adage is true: two heads are better than one.


The three of us walked into the mess the next morning. Heads turned and tongues wagged, but I didn't care.

Hey, I love and am loved by the two sweetest and cutest guys on the ship, and you want me to worry about gossip?

We were about half-way through breakfast when Jenny and Megan entered. Harry blushed and looked at his tray, but they decided to ignore us and sat across the room.

"Why did you get so upset with Jenny, anyhow?" I asked.

"Because she repeated some of the things I said about you two. . . "

"Oh. So it was okay for you to say those things, but she couldn't."

He nodded.

"Don't tease him," said Tom with a grin. "And if we're talking about confessions here, I have one."

I raised my eyebrows. This should be good.

"Harry, remember when you woke me up and I said I'd been dreaming about Megan?"

"Yeah."

"I lied." Tom leaned forward. "I'd dreamed about you and B'Elanna."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

It was Tom's turn to blush. "Because we were doing a lot of what we did last night."

"Oh, yeah?" I said. "What, exactly? And did we miss anything?" They chuckled, and I leaned across the table, staring Tom full in the face. "If you tell us, Paris, tonight Harry and I will make your dreams come true. . . "

Tom gulped and his color deepened. Harry looked at him appraisingly.

"What do you think, B'Elanna? I think he's done."

I nodded, pleased. Harry was a quick study. "Tender and tasty and ready for. . . " Tom was turning painfully red, so I leaned back and grinned. "But enough. . . We've got a busy day ahead, and I don't want the Captain noticing that Tom's the same color as his uniform."

"Thank you!" he said, rolling his eyes. His blush began to fade.

"Keep it for tonight."

As we left the mess, I heard Jenny's voice above the hubbub.

"I don't understand what's she got that I haven't got?"

I just caught Megan's reply.

"Tom and Harry, for one thing. . . "

I slid my hands around their arms, grinning. "Damn right. . . And I'm never letting them go. . . "

---

End