by Fred
---

As y'all know, I'm usually pretty easy to satisfy -- a little Wes and a little smut and I'm set. But I've been readin' some of the stories on BLTS and ASCEM, and these young Voyager guys remind me a lot of me favorite studmonkey, especially Tom Paris. Nice tight ass, blue eyes, big meaty hands -- there's some potential in the boy!

Anyway, I wrote this up over the past week -- it's a little different than the usual Fred fare but I hope you like it anyway. It's the first part of a trilogy I'm planning. It's dedicated to Belynda whose stories I've been eating up, and Anne fer settin' me up so I can read the BLTS stories. Ladies, if I were a cap-wearin' man I'd tip my cap to ye. It's also dedicated to everyone celebrating Christmas and Chanukah this month -- best o' the season to you and yours.

---

Harry Kim was a patient man, which in the Delta Quadrant was a good thing. If he had been on a regular Starfleet ship, he would have a promotion -- but he was still an ensign. If he were on a bigger ship, he'd have larger quarters -- but he still only had one room. And if he had been back in the Alpha Quadrant, he would be married -- but he was still single. The last was tearing him apart.

It hadn't taken long for Harry to forget about Libby. He had loved her as a boy loves a girl, not as a man loves a woman. And although he had been attracted to many women on Voyager, his mind always returned to one face -- Tom Paris's. Tom was the first thing he thought of in the morning, the last thing he thought of at night, and usually the main thing he thought of all day long. He was in love, and bad; but how could he ever tell Tom? It didn't take a genius to know that Tom was completely heterosexual, plus he was completely taken -- by a half- Klingon at that.

"Why did I let it go so far," Harry murmured despondently, his eyes on the stars as they swept past the viewport in his quarters. "Why do I love the only man on the ship I can never have."

---

He had thought duty shifts would be easier now that the blond pilot was regulated to gamma shift. Tom's warm, liquid tenor wouldn't send his blood pressure through the roof, and his piercing cerulean glance wouldn't send lightning bolts to Harry's cock at the worst moment. Harry wouldn't feel the urge to bend the flyboy over his console and take him there, right in the middle of alpha shift, damn the consequences. But Tom's replacement at conn only emphasized what Harry couldn't have. Not on the bridge, not in his quarters, not in the holodeck, not in a grassy meadow on a deserted planet. . .

"--phase variance, Ensign Kim?"

Harry jumped, startled; but fortunately his console supplied him with the correct answer to the Captain's question. She gave him a hard look as she acknowledged his reply, letting him know she wasn't fooled for a second. Her glare said it all: get yourself together, mister, or get off my bridge. He swallowed and brought his mind back to his work.

Shift finally came to an end. Harry briefed his replacement, then hurried to the turbolift before anyone else could join him. The doors shut; he slumped against the wall and let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He had to conquer this, he told himself, or he'd end up scrubbing Jefferies tubes with Tom. Shoulder to shoulder, back to back. . . ass to ass . . . thigh to thigh. . . skin rubbing skin through thin uniform fabric. . . a hand brushing across his groin. . . a tongue lapping at his earlobe. . . "Oh, Tom. . . " he groaned, before he came back to reality and found himself standing alone (thank the gods for that) in a stationary turbolift with what felt like the hardest cock in the Delta Quadrant.

He scooted out the open doors, his eyes on the ground, his mind on warp equations, not seeing the object of his desires standing at his door -- until it was too late. He slammed into Tom, throwing him into the wall ass-first.

"Hey!"

"Omigod, Tom, are you all right?"

"Shit, Harry," Tom growled, "you sure know how to greet an old friend."

Harry flushed, his cheeks red with embarrassment. "I -- I guess I didn't see you."

"I guess not." The pilot grabbed Harry's hand and hoisted himself up. "Guess Ensign Paris isn't as noticeable as Lieutenant Paris was."

"It's not that," Harry replied as they entered his quarters. "It's just -- my mind was on something else." He studied his friend as the door closed behind them. "You're still upset about the demotion."

"I'm more angry over spending a month in the brig, but I won't lie -- losing that pip hurt." Tom flopped onto Harry's sofa, stretching an arm out over the back. "But what really pisses me off is I could have helped those people. But no, Captain By-The-Book has to bring me back and make a lesson out of me. Don't help people unless the Captain says so."

Harry listened silently as Tom continued to pour out his frustration. Part of his brain was still focused on Tom's anger and bitterness at having been punished for doing what he had thought was right; part was thinking that even so, Tom had been wrong to try to impose his beliefs on an entire planet; but most of Harry's mind was on Tom's long, lean physique, his long fingers, his generous bulge, those blue, blue eyes. . .

". . . and okay, she's coming off a major depression, but you'd think she'd want to see me after a month. But no, the warp core needs babying, or she's in the middle of some damn diagnostic. Worst part is, I think she's really just avoiding me." Tom's eyes strayed down to his hands, then back up to Harry's face. "Has she said anything to you?"

"We don't talk much anymore," Harry said, not adding that he was so jealous of her he couldn't stand to see her face.

Tom snorted. "Another great relationship bites the dust." He shrugged at Harry's shocked look. "It's not like I wasn't expecting it. Ever since we left the Void she's been ignoring me. I think Joe Carey sees more of B'Elanna than I do." He turned and stared out the viewport, his face a turmoil of emotions.

"Listen, Tom," Harry said. "I just got off shift. Wanna grab some dinner and run a holoprogram?"

Tom rolled his eyes. "My holodeck privileges have been revoked until further notice. Not even allowed to go in there unless it's ship's business."

"You're kidding."

He turned back to look Harry straight in the face, his blue eyes glistening. "Do I look like I'm kidding? No holodeck privileges, no replicator rations, no PADDs except for ship's business. . . and fuck knows when it'll end. I gotta tell you, I'm seriously thinking about blowing this place."

"What?" Harry all but screamed. "You can't leave Voyager!"

"Excuse me, but what the fuck is there for me here?" Tom jumped up and began to pace. "No responsibility, no free choice, nobody cares a flying pig's shit about me... "

"I care." The words came out before Harry could stop them. Panicking, he spluttered, "I -- I mean I didn't I--"

"I know what you mean, and yes I know we're friends, but --" Tom suddenly stopped in his tracks. "That's not what you mean, is it Harry?"

"I -- I mean, I care what happens to you, and I care," he stammered, looking up into Tom's face. "I care about you."

Tom dropped into a chair, too stunned to talk.

"I never wanted you to know," Harry began. "You were so obviously in love with B'Elanna, and to tell the truth I didn't want her to kill me. And even if you hadn't been seeing her, how could I tell you when you've never even looked at a man? How could I admit I've fallen in love with my best friend who --" He dropped his head into his hands as tears welled up in his eyes and spilled over, leaving little dark spots on the carpet.

Seeing the younger man's tears tugged at Tom's heart. His throat tightened with emotion as he rose from the chair and crossed to where his friend sat. Reaching out, Tom brushed his fingers over the glossy black hair, over the tense neck to the even more tense shoulders.

"Tom. . . don't."

"Harry. Look at me."

Shaking his head, Harry refused to look up. When Tom's gentle hand attempted to lift his chin, he pulled away.

Dropping to his knees in front of Harry, Tom now looked up into his face. "Why are you telling me this now, Har?"

"I'm. . . I'm tired of being alone. I'm tired of seeing you with someone else. I'm tired of waking up by myself."

"Harry. . . "

Hearing the pity in Tom's voice, Harry was disgusted with himself, and with the whole damn situation. "Paris - just drop it, okay?"

"No... not this time, Harry. Remember what you said to me about my father and quitting? I think it's time to practice what you preach." With that, he slid his hands from the younger man's shoulders to cup his face between long pale fingers.

Looking deeply into his friend's eyes, he slowly closed the distance between them and placed a gentle kiss on Harry's trembling lips.

Harry stilled for a moment, too afraid to actually feel the soft butterfly caress, then pushed him away forcefully. "Don't do it!" he half sobbed, half yelled. "Don't you fucking pity me, Paris!"

"Harry--NO!" Tom protested. "It's not like that. . . "

"Bullshit!" He jumped up, wiping his hands over his tear-stained cheeks and runny nose angrily. "I'm not some mercy fuck or a friggin' charity case!"

"Harry!" Tom's face grew stony with anger. "You're my friend, why the hell would I. . . "

Harry felt like a fool. His face was red with embarrassment and his chest burned from the sheer ridiculousness of his position. "Oh God---oh shit--I feel so STUPID!" he groaned, as he tore himself away from Tom and strode across the room.

Tom approached him warily, his own face suffused with pain. "You're not stupid, Harry--don't ever think that!" Harry sniffled, his eyes as wide as a child's, his face filled with such poignant sorrow that Tom nearly smiled. Biting his cheek to prevent yet another fatal error he entered the shadow of the viewport where Harry now stood and carefully lowered himself on one knee.

"Harry... look at me... " The celestial man looked down in amazement at the soft-faced man smiling gently in his shadow. "Harry. . . I love you. You're my friend, my companion---until now, I've been calling myself every kind of pervert for having fantasies about someone who thought of me as a brother!"

"Paris. . . Tom. . . " Harry shook his head defeatedly as if to deny what Tom was saying.

"No, Harry---dammit! Listen for once, okay?" Tom sighed in smiling exasperation. "B'Elanna was nice and for a while I thought it was love, but I knew it wasn't a forever thing. You and I. . . we understand one another," he grinned. "You don't put up with my shit, Har -- I like that."

Unable to prevent himself, Harry gave a damp grin. "Well, it's a hard job but somebody's got to do it."

Suddenly, the fair haired man grew serious, "Not somebody -- you. Only you." He reached out one long-fingered hand to his companion and Harry trembled. "Harry, maybe this is too fast, or maybe I'm just an idiot. But I can't see why we should spend years of our lives dancing around each other when we both know what we want. We could both be dead tomorrow." He paused to grasp both of Harry's hands in his as a tiny tear formed in the corner of his eye. "Harry, marry me."

The younger man stood transfixed, unable to move let alone speak. His mouth opened, closed; his eyes blinked once, then again. Finally, he managed to squeak out, "M--marry you?"

Tom nodded in understanding. "I know it's kind of sudden, and I don't expect an answer right now, but I spent a lot of time thinking in the brig. I realized, Harry, that you and I were meant to be together. B'Elanna, she's a nice girl, and I won't deny it was a big ego boost to find out a girl that beautiful was in love with me, but -- but she's not the one. You are."

Harry was still in shock. "I -- I have to think about this. I can't just --"

"I know, I know," Tom murmured as he clambered up to stand in front of the younger man. "Just think about it. I'll be here." He kissed Harry again, just a soft little peck on the cheek, and then he was gone.

---

For the next month, Tom fulfilled that promise. Every time Harry turned around, he would find Tom. . . in the messhall, on the holodeck, even at the gym. Oh, Tom was never obvious about it, but Harry knew that he was waiting for an answer. When Tom and B'Elanna's breakup became public knowledge, Harry felt an irrational surge of guilt, and he studiously avoided gossiping about it, afraid that he would reveal his true feelings.

Some days he thought his heart would burst; some days he felt as if the entire idea was a stupid joke. What did Tom see in him? he asked himself as he regarded himself in the mirror. What did they really have in common? Tom was hard, tough, no-nonsense, but an idealist who would risk his career to save people he didn't even know. Harry was quiet, introspective, artistic, but pragmatic - or cowardly, maybe. But just when Harry had convinced himself it would never work, he would see Tom at the beach, his hair mussed, teaching Naomi Wildman to build a sandcastle, and all his carefully built defenses would crumble as if they themselves were made of sand.

He loved Tom, and Tom loved him. How could he let such a good thing slip away?

But how could he marry a man whom he'd kissed only one time!?! It couldn't be that pat--that easy. No one just fell into marriage instantly--there were rituals to learn, personal facts to root out! He didn't know little things like what color his toothbrush was or what side of the bed he preferred. He didn't know if he stood or sat when he went to the bathroom! These were things a person should know before they married someone. In fact, they could be perfect strangers--they hadn't even dated yet!

A voice echoed between already pounding temples, "So... go on a date." Not for the first time, Harry Kim wished he believed in a god he could pray to. He needed guidance; should he follow his heart and say yes, or should he take things slowly and find out more about Tom? Because Tom was right in one thing: they could be dead tomorrow. They might not have the time for a long courtship -- or any courtship at all. He swore at himself for taking so long to come to a decision. A month of indecision, a month of sitting in his quarters wringing his hands -- where had it gotten him? The voice echoed again, "Go on a date."

---

"So this is your mother's recipe?" Tom asked before spearing a chunk of fish.

"My dad's. He did the cooking." Harry replied as he refilled Tom's glass. "It's one of my favorites."

"Mm, it's good." They ate in silence for a few minutes, then Tom smiled and put down his fork. "Harry, we've eaten dinner together I don't know how many times, and suddenly you're so nervous I swear you're ready to jump out of your skin."

"Do you sit or stand?" Harry suddenly blurted.

"What?"

"Do you sit or stand? You know, when you. . . " and he looked over at the fresher.

Tom blinked a few times, looked at the fresher door, and turned back to give Harry a puzzled look. "And this relates to our dinner. . ."

"I need to know, Tom. Do you sit or stand?"

"I stand, usually."

Harry took a deep breath. "Good."

Tom raised his eyebrows as he picked his fork up and returned to his meal. "Okay, fine."

"It's just the kind of thing you need to know."

"If you say so, Har."

"It is!" Harry insisted, then paused. "I'm sure that there are some things about me you want to know."

Tom contemplated his statement for a minute as he chewed. "Nope."

"Nothing?" Harry asked hopefully.

Tom sighed then dropped his fork silently, "Okay Harry, how do you pee?"

"No! I mean. . . well. . . "

"Harry... " The Asian man's eyes lifted to the soft dulcet tones of his would-be lover. "I know everything about you I need to know. I only have one small question and I've already asked it once."

Harry froze; his heart pounded in his throat for a brief but utterly terrifying moment. "Uhh. . . "

Tom rose from the chair and walked around to kneel at Harry's feet. Taking his face in his hands, he kissed him until he felt breathless. "My mother's middle name was Smyrna. . . " kiss, "I have a scar on my left knee from when I climbed a tree to spy on Lucy Tannenbaum because she had breasts. . . " deep kiss, "I dress left."

Harry felt himself sucked into a vortex of pure sensation as Tom's tongue and lips caressed and enflamed him. "Yesss. . . "

Paris paused. "Yes, you'll marry me or yes, don't stop until we are reported as AWOL?" Harry's heart skipped a beat. "Both."

Paris gave a wide, earthshattering grin. "That can be done." And again they kissed.

---

End