by Rae
---
Chakotay swirled the ale in his tankard, gazing into its depths. Tom reflected
that the man seemed built to brood, with his tall, hulking frame and dark,
not-quite-handsome good looks. Turning his attention away, he looked on,
smiling, as the Doctor and Seven of Nine escorted B'Elanna and the
captain to the dance floor. The pilot-knight watched the two women dance.
He was oddly aware that he had never seen their edgy captain look quite so
at peace as he tracked their progress around the hall. He looked away
uncomfortably as their movement halted, feeling strangely like an
intruder, despite the public setting. He returned to Chakotay's face.
Looking at the stark expression the first officer wore, he didn't need
to check to see what he was looking at.
He did anyway, and winced slightly, as Seven drew back from the kiss and
led the captain from the hall.
He heard Chakotay's tankard thump to the table, and watched him
refill it from a pitcher. "Better watch out, Chakotay. That stuff has
more kick than you might expect."
Chakotay shot him a dark look. "Noted, Tom."
Well, he'd never been one to back away from mere personal danger.
"Why don't you dance, Chakotay? It's a ball.
Have one."
"Who with, Tom? You? There's a shortage of women here,"
Chakotay answered acidly.
Tom summoned his best rakish grin. "Well why not? Seven and the
captain" - yes, there was the flinch - "are dancing,
why can't we?"
"No thanks, Tom."
Undeterred, Tom turned to his best friend. "Harry? How about
you?"
Harry laughed. "Why not." He stood. "Who leads?"
"I do, of course." Tom rose and gestured sweepingly for Harry
to precede him to the dance floor.
"And why's that?" Harry demanded.
"Because I outrank you, Harry."
"Not any more, Ensign Paris."
Their argument faded into the noise of the crowd as they walked down from
the dais. Chakotay watched them go, lips twitching in amusement as the
young men laughingly both tried to lead.
---
"You like living dangerously," Harry observed. A compromise
having been reached, they spun companionably with the thronging couples.
Tom grinned.
"Chakotay needs to get over himself, Har'. Everyone but him
knows it was over years ago." They parted, linked only by clasped
hands, came together again. Closer now, their bodies moving in synch;
the tempo was picking up.
"Still." The conversation flagged, as the two men focussed on
the music and the dance. By now there was a gap forming in the centre of
the floor as the revelers whirled in an expansive circle.
Tom met Harry's gaze, both young men bright-eyed and breathless as
they danced still faster. The music fizzed in his blood, rising to a
crescendo of excitement that begged for nameless release.
Finally it peaked, thundering, and the dancers slowed dizzily to a stop.
Half-laughing, breath mingling, Tom and Harry grinned at each other for
long moments until the amusement faded.
Tom froze as Harry drew breath to speak. "Tom. . ."
"Tom!" The call came from behind him, and Tom turned at the
sound of B'Elanna's voice. He decided he had to have imagined a
slight squeeze of the hand still loosely clasped in Harry's before his
young friend pulled away.
The music was starting again, slow again, as B'Elanna slid sensuously
into his arms. Harry had faded into the crowd.
Spine tingling with an awareness of something. . . jarring, and
incomplete, Tom kissed his girlfriend and began to dance anew.
---
End
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