The BLTS Archive - Un series
#3: Unthinkable
by Kiff (Kiff47@yahoo.com)

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Sandrine's is about the last place Tom Paris should go right now.  And
he knows it damn well.  It was where he'd first met Chakotay, so many
years ago, back on Earth.

Off duty, dressed in casual clothes, Tom paces around his quarters. 
He's already opened his big mouth and told Harry Kim he would play a
game of pool with him tonight.  He can't stand up his best friend.  But
he knows Chakotay will be there, too.  Chakotay is *always* there.  If
he's not staring at Tom across the mess hall, he's doing the same to
the back of the pilot's head on the bridge.

Tom runs a hand through his hair.  "Computer, what time is it?"

"*The time is 2024.*"

He has six minutes to get to the holodeck.  Fine.  He'll hurry.  Maybe
he can finish the game and get out before Chakotay shows up.  He's
always been a late-comer in the evenings, right?

Tom can't remember.

"The hell with it."  He walks out the door.

---

He goes into Sandrine's and looks around.  No Chakotay.  Good.  Maybe
he found something else to do.  Neelix had been talking about
reinitializing the beach resort program.  Maybe the commander went
there.  Maybe he's lying on the beach right now, his tan skin
glistening in the sun...

Tom shakes himself before this can go any further.  He goes to the bar
and orders a beer.  Sandrine frowns as she serves him.  "What is the
matter, *mon cher*?"

"Nothing."

"You are lying."  The woman shakes her finger at him.

"You're right," he acknowledges as he walks away before she can
continue.  He picks out a cue and begins to chalk up.  

Harry joins him right on time, and Tom lets the younger man break. 
Paris can't keep his eyes from the entrance.  But even with the
distraction, Kim has no chance.

The Ops officer sighs as Tom calls the corner pocket and deftly sinks
the eight-ball.  "Two out of three?"

Tom glances once more at the door.  Still safe.  "Sure, Harry, if you
want to be a glutton for punishment."

Kim rolls his eyes but sets up another game.  Tom gets a second beer. 
As he turns back to the table, he sees Chakotay leaning up against the
wall, about ten feet away.  The pilot stops short, sloshing some of his
beer onto his shoes.

/How the hell did he get past me?/

"You okay, Tom?"

"Yeah...sure, Harry.  No problem."  Tom sets his beer down on a nearby
table, deliberately turning his back on Chakotay as he does so.

Again, he lets Harry break.  This time the young ensign does much
better.  This game is actually competitive.  Tom almost forgets
Chakotay is watching him.  Almost.

Tom looks at nothing but the table, the floor, and his beer.  He can't
wait to finish this so that he can leave.  Damn the commander anyway. 
Why won't he go pester the captain like he used to?  

/It's not like anything would happen between us./

/Are you so sure about that?/

/He'd kill me.  Eventually.  Or he'd leave, like B'Elanna./

/He's not that kind of guy./

/Really?  When did you get to be such an expert on Chakotay?/

/Since you decided you wanted him.  I have to check these people out,
you know./

Tom snorts at his inner self, leaning over the table to set up a shot. 
He realizes that Chakotay is getting a prime look at his rear end right
now.  His hands are sweating.  He draws the cue stick back, pauses, and
strikes the ball.  Forget it.  The shot's not even close.  And Harry's
perfectly set up for *his* turn.

Not even Ensign Kim can miss this one.  Now he's only got the
eight-ball left.  "Side pocket," he calls, slapping the table.  Tom can
only watch helplessly, his face flushed, as Harry beats him for the
very first time -- legitimately, that is.

"Yes!" shouts Harry triumphantly.  "Damn, I wish we had been playing
for something."

Tom grins weakly at him.  "Ah, I just didn't bring my good stuff with
me tonight."

"Up yours, Paris."

"Hey, what the hell.  It was a good game.  There's hope for you yet." 
Tom picks up the remainder of his beer.  "I've got to get going."

"No rematch?"

"Later."  Tom puts his cue away and starts for the exit. 
Unfortunately, he'll have to pass Chakotay, who is still leaning
against the wall, staring at him, with that irritating grin on his face
again.  Shit.  Tom flushes again.  

/It's his damn fault I lost.  Fucker.  Just trying to rattle me, and it
worked./

Suddenly Tom can't hold it in anymore.  He stops inches away from the
commander.

"*WHAT*?  What *IS* it?  What the FUCK do you WANT with me??!!"  

And Tom's hand grows a mind of its own.  It brings the beer glass
forward, tips it, and flings the contents into Chakotay's face,
splashing that beautiful tan skin.  As Tom watches, the beer drips onto
the commander's shirt and finally trickles to the floor.

Horrified at what he's done, Tom runs from the room, barely having the
presence of mind to set the empty glass down on a nearby table.

Harry Kim stares after his friend, dumbfounded, his pool cue still in
his hand.  An unexpected sound behind him causes the young ensign to
turn his head once more.

Chakotay is laughing.

---

The End