The BLTS Archive - Season V: The Way of All Flesh by Bridget Cochran (bjcochran@aol.com) --- A lot of talking heads. But who knows what happens when talking heads stop talking. Spoilers for Extreme Risk and major spoilers for In The Flesh. I'm not guaranteeing a story for every episode, 'cause I like to write about so many different pairs, but we'll see. Disclaimer: I own the ideas. Paramount owns the rest. Archive at ASC/EML, BLTs, R'Rain and AllSlash. Others, please ask. This story involves the potential sexual relationship between two adult men. If that offends you, move along home. --- Tom sat at the bar in good, old Sandrine's, his hand curled around a warm glass of scotch. Today had been a good day. Some days were good in the DQ, not a lot, but some. Like when you saved the Delta Quadrant **and** the Alpha Quadrant from an invading species from another galaxy all in one day. Too bad the Alpha Quadrant might never know how close they came to be infiltrated by Species 8472. Tom shrugged to himself. He used to not care about who knew what back in the Alpha Quadrant, back home. But not since he knew they knew Voyager was out here in the great beyond. They. The Federation. Starfleet. His dad. His dad. He liked to think his letter from home was a happy one. That he'd finally given his mom and dad something to be proud of. That his dad wouldn't be embarrassed by him any more. He shrugged again. It was funny. He had the respect of over a hundred people, including his Captain here on Voyager. But he'd trade it all for one damn, 'I'm proud of you, son." He'd be 34 next week, and damn it, that man--not a god--a man, 60,000 light years away could still reduce him to a quivering seven year old fresh from his first Runabout Simulation Derby win. His dad had tossed him in the air that day, laughing, the both of them talking and laughing like kids. Toms shook off the memory like a wet dog. Those days were gone. But a pat on the back would be nice. He jumped a foot when the hand clamped his shoulder. He wondered for a split second if was Q or Q exercising his/her sense of humor. "Didn't mean to scare you," Chakotay eased onto a stool beside Tom's. The Commander looked around the bar, noting the holo-regulars all at their appointed places, one or two live groups mingled in the room. But there was probably only one reason Tom called Sandrine's up. Chakotay turned to study the pilot a minute, to look at the eyes staring straight ahead in thought, eyes that only saw the inner images of Tom's brain. "Homesick?" he asked. Tom blinked and looked down at the bar's surface. "A little." Chakotay accepted black coffee from Sandrine. He blew steam across the top of the cup, as he waited for Tom. "How's B'Elanna?" the younger man asked. It was part of their evening ritual. It was a trading of information in an off-hand way that enabled direct communication without the directness of a real interaction. "Pretty good, I guess. She's been spending a lot of time in the Klingon Martial Arts program with Vorick." Klingon Martial Arts was the program Tom had designed for B'Elanna. Tom's chin dipped, but his eyes didn't shutter. His mouth turned up a fraction. "That must be fun to watch." Chakotay schooled his features to smile a small smile, and not broadcast the relief he felt at Tom's reaction. Tom was unwilling to talk about his break up with B'Elanna openly with anyone. It hadn't actually been a break up, more of a dissolution after he realized to what extent B'Elanna had left him out of their relationship on her road to self-destruction. He'd felt so useless and so thoughtless when all her episodes of self-abuse had come to light. "Maybe we could initiate a spy-vid," Chakotay offered. Tom snorted. "It wouldn't be **that** much fun to watch." They sat a few minutes more. "I didn't get a chance to ask you about your date," Tom was teasing and Chakotay relaxed. Turning his body to lean on the counter, and his head on his upraised hand, he let the smile creep into his eyes. "The truth?" he didn't wait for Tom's nod. "More fun than I thought it would be." "Oh." Tom's smile crept across his face, but his eyes stayed on the bottles behind the bar. "Whadya do?" Tom's effected non-challance was prime; a skill honed through years of practice. "We went to Pon Farr night at the Vulcan Night Club." "Vulcan Night Club? There's no Vulcan Night Club in San Francisco." Tom would have been there if there was. "Of course, there isn't," Chakotay laughed at Tom's indignation. "It struck me as an oxymoron, but what do you expect from aliens?" "I bet." Another sip. "How was it?" "The club? Unusual." Chakotay mimicked Tom and sipped his coffee as he examined Tom's face. "Actually, it was fun. I wouldn't mind if you'd help me program one." Another snort. "Maybe you should ask Tuvok." Chakotay's frown was a good natured one. "I'd like it to be a fun program." Tom just smiled, no retort. Chakotay didn't frown, exactly but the smile grew smaller. Something was up with Tom. "Did you kiss her good night?" "Uh-huh." So that's what this was about, Chakotay thought. "What was it like?" "The kiss?" Tom didn't answer, just took another sip of the scotch, still looking at the back of the bar. Chakotay couldn't help the smile of remembrance. "Not bad." "What did it taste like?" Chakotay thought about that a minute. "It tasted alien." "I bet." "She looked like a woman and acted like a woman, but it was a little repugnant at first. Gave me the creeps." Tom nodded, a mock grimace stretching his mouth. "The second kiss was a little better, once she got the hang of the human kissing thing." "Quick study?" Tom would need a fresh drink soon. "Good teacher." Finally, Tom looked at Chakotay, a little skepticism shining from his eyes. "I'll take your word for it." He stretched out the kinks from leaning into the bar for the last half hour. "You don't have to just take my word for it." The offer was low, soft, a whisper that reached out to caress Tom. Tom blew air out through tight lips. He looked up at the ceiling, then down at the floor, then reluctantly at Chakotay, apology telegraphed in the look. "I don't think that's a good idea right now, Chakotay. I'm still not quite back to normal from B'Elanna. I'm too unsure of myself and what I want." "You asked about the good night kiss." The reminder was soft, no accusation in it. "I did," Tom nodded. "I was just curious." A brow rose. "And I was jealous. Okay? But I'm just not ready, Chakotay. That's all there is to it. If I'm not ready, it'll be a mistake if we start something." Chakotay had to acquiesce. Tom may not be ready, but he **was** interested. Chakotay could wait if he had to. He smiled, unable to resist a needle. "Alright. But what's wrong with a little kiss?" he wheedled. Tom stepped down from the stool, and stood real close. "Chakotay, if I kissed you, I couldn't stop there." Chakotay closed his eyes to thank the spirits for those words. When he opened them, Tom was challenging Megan Delaney to a game of pool. The older man shrugged as he turned back to the bar. --- The End