Summary:  C/P.   Tom tries to break down Chakotay's defenses any way that he can.
Copyright September 2001 Cassatt

"Lieutenant!"

Tom turned around slowly from the helm, to meet the blazing eyes of the First Officer, standing in front of his command chair, hands on his hips. "Yes, Sir?" He prayed his smile was not showing.

"Do you need to go to sick bay?" The sarcasm wasn't missed by anyone on the bridge.

"Sick bay, Sir?"

"Yes, sick bay. Perhaps the Doctor should test your hearing!"

"My hearing, Sir?"

"Yes, Lieutenant, your hearing."

"And why would that be, Sir?"

"Didn't you hear me give you an order to adjust the heading point zero eight degrees?!"

"Oh, that order, Sir. Yes, I did hear that. I apologize, Sir, for not implementing that order as quickly as I could have. Sir." Tom saw with disguised delight that Chakotay's eyes blazed even hotter as the commanding officer groped for some response.

"Very well. Proceed. Now."

Tom turned back to the conn. "Yes, Sir, right away, Sir." He heard the commander sit back down with a loud, disgusted grunt. It was all Tom could do to not clap his hands with glee. That had gone well.

Commander Chakotay pulled up Tom Paris' personnel file and made a notation that he should receive his physical more than twice per year. Four times, he thought, that would be good. No one called him "sir" so many times in the space of five minutes and got away with it. He hesitated before hitting the 'confirm' interface. He deleted 'four' and entered 'six.' After confirming the order with his command code, he relaxed into the chair and stared at the back of the blond head in front of him. Anyone looking at him would have been surprised to see the almost feral grin on his normally stoic features.

Tom approached the commander's table in the mess hall, ignoring the invitations of his friends to join them. The dark haired man was reading a PADD and eating, but glanced upwards as Tom got nearer. And glared. Tom ignored this too, and sat directly across from Chakotay without asking.

"Do you usually interrupt a senior officer while he's eating without requesting permission, Mr. Paris?"

Tom took a mouthful of purple strings and chewed. "That's a hard question to answer, commander. Do I usually? Well, it's been a very long time, as you know, since I was on a Starfleet vessel in this capacity, hell, in any capacity other than prisoner, and being as that's the case, I would find myself hard pressed to know what is usual in the circumstances we find ourselves in, I mean, after all, it's true you are an officer senior in rank to me, and I do realize that if I were to ask permission to sit here, you more than likely would refuse it, so I said to myself, self..."

Chakotay interrupted him, bellowing, "Lieutenant! Was there something you needed from me?"

Tom almost choked on his strings. He smiled and leaned forward. "I just have a question for you."

"Well?"

Tom leaned even more forward until Chakotay leaned back. "I was just wondering how your day is going." He gave the older man his most brilliant smile and waited. And was rewarded.

Chakotay got up quickly, picking up his tray and the PADD, glowering down at him. "Just fine." He left.

Tom's smile did not fade, if anything it got brighter. That had gone even better.

Chakotay sat in his office reviewing the schedule for the coming week's rotation. He was about to upload it to the ship's systems for distribution when his door chimed.

"Come in," he called.

Ensign Baytart walked in and handed him a PADD. "Here is the report you asked for, Sir."

"I didn't ask you for a report, Ensign," he said. Tapping the surface of the PADD, he saw it was a listing of all course corrections that had been done on gamma shift for the past week. "What is this?"

Baytart looked confused. "My compilation. As you requested."

"I never requested this, Mr. Baytart. Why do you think I did?"

"Well, Lieutenant Paris passed along your request, I saw it when I woke up a little bit ago. He said it was urgent, Sir."

Chakotay was seeing red spots appear in front of his eyes as he tried to calm down before ripping a strip off the innocent Ensign. "Thank you for telling me that. And in the future, do not make out any reports directed by Mr. Paris without double checking with me, first. Dismissed."

Baytart nodded. "Yes, sir, I apologize, sir."

Chakotay wanted to scream. There was that damned 'sir' again. "No problem, Ensign. You may go." He waved him out of his office. Once the door swooshed shut, he threw the offending PADD against the wall. Then he hit his chest with force.

"Commander Chakotay to Lieutenant Paris."

"Paris here."

"My office. NOW." He cut off the comlink before Paris had a chance to respond.

Tom walked the corridor from the lift to the commander's office with his heart pounding. He hoped this would be worth it in the long run. He'd called Freddy and apologized for the confusion, assuming correctly that this was the problem. Freddy was cool, as always. Standing in front of the First Officer's Office, he took a deep breath and hit the chime.

The door opened almost immediately and he walked into the room, to see Chakotay sitting behind his desk, looking calm and unruffled.

"You wanted to see me, Sir?"

"Yes, Mr. Paris, please, have a seat." His voice was well modulated, calm, reasonable. Too calm, to Tom's way of thinking. He sat. "As you probably know, I received a visit from Ensign Baytart. He was trying to give me a report I didn't ask for. While I don't pretend to understand what exactly you were trying to do, I have come up with what I think is a suitable punishment. You have just lost a week's worth of replicator rations." He held up his hand, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "And before you decide you can adjust your needs until the end of the month, your week's loss begins right now, as we speak. Your replicator will be dysfunctional until one week from today."

Tom hadn't expected this and was a bit stunned. This could put a big crimp in his life for the next week, but he'd go with it. Whatever else anyone said about Tom Paris, no one could claim he didn't roll with the punches. Looking across the desk, he could see that the commander was very very tightly controlled. And that was a good thing. So, all in all, a successful conclusion.

"Thank you, Sir, that certainly seems fair to me." Tom smiled sincerely.

"It does? I mean, yes, of course, it does, I wouldn't want you to think that I was being unfair," Chakotay said, his voice dropping at least another five decibels.

Seeing the angry reaction his words caused, Tom got a little shiver down his spine. God, he was enjoying himself. But... "Was there anything else?" he asked.

Chakotay picked up a PADD and began to tap it against the desk, the force increasing as he continued to stare at Tom.

"Um, Commander? Maybe you should be careful, you wouldn't want to lose a valuable report there," Tom said helpfully. He knew how much Chakotay hated the vast number of reports he had to wade through, B'Elanna had shared this little insight, prompting his memo to Freddy. If the commander had had a knife in his drawer, Tom knew he would have thrown it right then. He would have missed, deliberately, but still, perhaps on second thought he'd gone just a bit too far. He tried to look contrite.

Chakotay stopped the tapping and barked, "You're dismissed, Paris."

Tom practically leapt out of his chair. "Yes, Sir! Thank you, Sir."

In the corridor, Tom took a moment to lean against the wall. He had to admit, the man in there was beyond gorgeous when he was mad. Whistling, he made his way back to the bridge.

At dinner time in the mess hall, Tom took a moment to cast his eyes over the crew. People seemed bored. He decided to do something about that, which could also work to his advantage. He hoped.

He walked around the room, stopping at each table to tell the occupants he was running Sandrine's that night. This caused a general lifting of spirits and an increase in the noise level of the place. As he approached the captain's table, he couldn't help but notice that the commander was glowering in his general direction. Tom's heart raced in response. This he hadn't expected and he wondered what he'd done to deserve it.

"Good evening, Captain," he said cheerfully. "May I sit for a moment?"

"Of course, Tom," she said, "if you tell me what you've been telling everyone else. You've managed to put quite a smile on their faces."

Tom sat next to Chakotay and smiled at him. The glare he received was priceless. "Good evening, Commander."

"Paris. Nice of you to ask permission this time."

"Thank you. I try to learn from my experiences, when the lesson is important enough." He faced the captain again. "I've just been telling folks that I'm going to run Sandrine's tonight. Would you care to join us? Maybe shoot a little pool?"

Captain Janeway grinned. "That sounds wonderful. I could use some down time. How about you, Commander, would you like to have a drink later?"

"I have a number of crew evaluation reports to finish, Captain." Chakotay was now slumped against the back of his chair, his arms across his chest, still sending out angry vibrations.

Janeway made a little noise. "Aren't you the one who is always telling me to relax? Take some time off from duties? When was the last time you played pool?"

But Chakotay just glowered at her in response.

"Oh, come on, Chakotay, what's the matter..." Janeway began to say but he interrupted her by doing nothing more than raising his hand and staring at her. Tom watched, fascinated. She shrugged her shoulders and addressed her pilot instead. "Well, Tom, I'll be there, and perhaps the commander will as well."

Tom stood and turned once more to Chakotay, who glanced his way. "I look forward to seeing you both. Beating you in pool is one of my greatest joys," he said, giving them both another smile.

Janeway laughed as he left. Chakotay said nothing, but Tom could feel his eyes follow him back to Harry's table.

"You know, Chakotay, you really should try to cut Tom some slack," Kathryn said. "He was only trying to be friendly. Or is that the problem?"

"And you know, Kathryn, my relationship with my former pilot is not really your concern," he answered.

"The hell it's not. Your anger toward him is a potential problem for this ship, therefore it's my concern. What's going on? Is it that he saved your life? Because I thought that was all resolved."

"Yes, that's the problem. He owns me. I don't like it. I'll work on it. Okay?"

He didn't miss the calculated look she was giving him. Wishing she would drop this line of inquiry he made a move to gather his dishes and leave.

"Yes, you work on it. Tonight. You're coming to Sandrine's, with me. And don't force me to make that an order. 1900 hours."

"Fine." He stood, roughly picked up his tray, walked it to the recycler, and left without meeting anyone's eyes.

He spent the next hour staring out the viewport in his Starfleet appointed quarters before pulling on a dark brown shirt, and lighter brown pants. He hoped the captain noticed his clothing was close to what he wore in the Maquis.

Tom looked at his choices and made a quick decision. Navy blue shirt with buttons that he could undo if things got a little warm and black pants. He combed his hair and perused the reflection he saw. He looked good. Rubbing his hands together in anticipation, he left for holodeck one.

His pool game was a fun one, a heated battle between himself and Ayala that had his undivided attention. Until Chakotay walked in, that is. Tom knew the moment the doors to Sandrine's opened it was him before he even turned around. And when he did look up, he caught the stare of the commander. His heart skipped.

"Evening, Captain," Ayala said to him quietly as he walked by the pool table.

"Good evening, gentlemen," Chakotay said.

Once the man was out of earshot, Ayala leaned over to Tom. "What the hell did you do, Tom?"

"What do you mean?"

"Don't make innocent with me, I saw that look, heard that tone of voice. I haven't seen Chakotay that mad in quite awhile. So..."

"Let's just say I'm trying to, well, get to him."

"Get to him, how?"

"Since when do I divulge my game plan? Now, are you going to shoot or forfeit? I could use some replicator time right about now..."

Ayala shook his head in mock disgust and laughed. The game continued. Tom kept watch on Chakotay out of the corner of his eye, looking for his opening. It came during a match with Harry. Chakotay and the captain had some sort of intense discussion at one of the corner tables after which the commander went and sat at the bar, his back to the room and sipped some whiskey. Tom casually unfastened two more of his shirt buttons and rolled up his sleeves.

"Getting too hot for you, Tom?" Harry said, grinning.

"A little. You're just too good a player for me."

"Yeah, right. What's this I hear about you losing your replicator for the week?"

"Just rumors, Harry, just rumors. I don't need to win, I'm only playing for fun," Tom said, deadpan. "But at the moment, I'm going to go get a drink, want anything?" Harry shook his head. Tom took a deep breath and walked to the bar, keeping his eye on the prize directly ahead of him.

Tom ordered his beer without saying a word to the brooding commander, but stood right next to him, just touching his personal space. Drink in hand, he turned and leaned back against the bar, looking out over the room, still saying nothing. He felt as though the man next to him was ignoring him just a little too conspicuously and decided it was time.

"So, you and the captain have a nice conversation?"

"How is that any of your business?"

"Just wondering why you're sitting here, alone, that's all."

Chakotay finally looked at him. "Maybe I like it that way."

"I don't believe you, Chakotay." With that said in a soft tone of voice, Tom reached for a bowl of peanuts on the other side of the man, placing his exposed chest directly in front of Chakotay's face. He heard with satisfaction the hitch in Chakotay's breathing. It was just one hitch, but as Tom pulled the bowl in front of them, he rested his elbow and casually began to eat some peanuts.

"Want one?" he said, holding a nut out.

"No."

"Come on, just one."

Chakotay's eyes were beginning to blaze, and those little lines around his mouth were starting to show as he clenched his jaw. Tom took one look at that face and had to do it. He pushed the peanut against Chakotay's lips, surprised when the man didn't move but, rather, locked eyes with him. Tom traced the opening to Chakotay's mouth, back and forth, until finally the lips parted and the small nut was shoved inside, Tom's two fingers lingering for just a moment against the soft skin. It was his turn to feel a hitch in his breathing and in self-preservation, he left the bar quickly.

He went back to the pool table, to continue playing with Harry, ignoring the bar completely. They played for about ten minutes when Tom noticed that Harry was looking anxiously toward the center of Sandrine's. He turned around and his heart started to beat rapidly.

Chakotay was storming toward him and in another act of pure self-preservation, he braced himself, putting his ass on the edge of the pool table and placing the cue between his legs. It was all for naught, for when the older man reached him he tore the pool cue from Tom's hands and dropped it on the floor. The loud noise only punctuated the silence of the bar as everyone watched the drama.

"You want to get in my face?" Chakotay growled. He pushed Tom's legs apart and moved between them so quickly that Tom had to prop himself up on his hands just to say semi-upright. Chakotay came at him until their heads were a foot apart. "You think you can get to me?" he continued.

Tom would never admit it, but at that moment, he felt a twinge of fear. He could see the fire deep in Chakotay's eyes, could smell the heat radiating off the man as he stared him down. And as exciting as that was on one level, the emotions coming from Chakotay were, on another level, overwhelming. Still, he managed to respond defiantly. "I don't know, Chakotay, am I getting to you?"

Chakotay moved incrementally closer until Tom could feel the man's breath caress his face. "You don't have any idea what you're playing with. None at all."

Tom wasn't so sure about that, and to make the point he pushed his thigh up against Chakotay's hip, just enough so that they both felt the contact. He saw the change in Chakotay's eyes and felt blood rush to his groin. "I think I do, but perhaps you should show me," Tom said softly.

Chakotay ran his thumb along the inside of the thigh pressing into him, looking deeply into blue eyes. They seemed to peer past his defenses and that infuriated him. His thumb now wedged between Tom's thigh and his hip, he stepped back, finally breaking eye contact, his heart pounding, blood rushing in his ears. He stalked back to the bar to finish his drink and forget the look he had seen on Tom's face that was undoubtedly mirrored on his own.

Tom sat for a moment, unable to move, and watched Chakotay walk quickly back to the bar. Un uh, he thought. He waited until the older man was sitting and downing his whiskey before following.

He leaned over and whispered in Chakotay's ear, startling him. "You know what, Chakotay? I think what gets to you is the fact that the two people you are attracted to on this damned ship are both as strong as you. You can't dominate us."

"And you think that's what I want," Chakotay said, letting his anger show again.

"I think you're afraid your next lover is gonna be another Seska, and you'd rather die lonely than let that happen again. Well guess what. Seventy years is a long time to be lonely. And I'm not Seska." Without waiting for a reply, he left.

Saying goodnight to Harry, Ayala, and the rest of his friends he kept going, glancing once over his shoulder, meeting the deep dark stare of his former captain before walking out of Sandrine's and off the holodeck.

Tom paced the length of his quarters, thinking over the last half hour of his existence. Well, he thought, he'd really thrown down the gauntlet this time. Not like on the Liberty, when his almost lame attempts to let Chakotay know his intentions had been interrupted by a crisis, then by B'Elanna, then by Gerron, etc. etc. The commander should have no doubts now. It's what he had intended, he'd just gotten a little more carried away than he had planned. He walked into his bedroom and stripped. Following a quick sonic shower, he put on his sleepwear bottoms, plopped down on his bed and tried to calm down. However, each time he relaxed, he saw Chakotay staring at him, less than a foot away, those piercing, almost black eyes holding him captive. God, that man was beyond gorgeous, he sighed, getting harder with each passing minute.

Chakotay left the bar, after what he hoped was a sufficient wait, not wanting anyone to think he was following Tom. He was, but he would be damned if anyone thought that. He was also so restless and upset he just couldn't stay and either sit and ignore everyone, or sit and make small talk. Instead of leaving the holodeck, however, he turned right and walked through some of the holographic streets of Marseilles that Tom had programmed, trying to pretend he really was in France. Thinking over and over about what had transpired in the last hour. He had been shocked, no stunned, at the young man's perceptiveness. He'd always considered himself to be slightly enigmatic, difficult to understand and private. And Tom had hit the nail right, directly, astonishingly, on the head. His head.

Tom woke up hearing the door to his quarters open. Thinking it was Harry, he merely propped himself in bed and waited to hear the latest chapter in Harry's unendingly dismal love life. He didn't even bother to turn up the lights, knowing his best friend liked to sit in the half-light and talk as though they were at a slumber party.

"Hey Harry," Tom called, "bring a couple of beers, okay?"

The form filling his bedroom doorway was quite different than what he expected, and Tom's heart stopped.

"Am I interrupting something?" Chakotay's soft voice pierced the silence.

Tom got out of bed quickly. "No, no, not at all, Harry just, well... sometimes comes here to talk," he said, walking directly up to the man until he was two feet away. "He likes to commiserate about his failed attempts at dating."

"And you commiserate with him? So, what, you lie?"

"I'm not exactly lying to him. My dates on this ship are hardly the stuff of real happiness." Tom could see that Chakotay was so tightly controlled, the tension was almost palpable. His mind was racing, trying to accept what was happening, looking for another reason why Chakotay had entered his quarters without permission. "But you should understand that."

"Do I, Tom?"

"You should after tonight," Tom answered. He took another few steps forward, gauging Chakotay's reaction in the low light - the only thing visible was a tightening of his face. Tom's heart was starting to pound loudly. He made a decision, thinking he might be the ship's biggest idiot and end up in the brig. He needed to do it anyway. Taking two more steps, never losing eye contact, he placed his hands flat on Chakotay's chest and felt a rapid heartbeat, felt him quiver, but not move away. He ran his hands up until they were resting on the other man's shoulders, and still, Chakotay held the eye contact and didn't move. Tom tried to take a breath without showing it, his heart hammering away.

He made the final advance all at once, wrapping his arms around those strong shoulders, dipping his head, and touching Chakotay's lips with his own, intending it to be a soft kiss to break the ice. Chakotay finally moved. He took Tom's mouth possessively, in an almost bruising kiss, putting his arms around Tom and pulling him close. Tom had never felt anything like it before, he was stunned into submissiveness for a minute, reveling in the feeling of the one person he had craved in his arms, kissing him with abandon, taking him. He needed more, and pushed his tongue against Chakotay's mouth, teasing it, wanting in. The man finally allowed it and with a moan, Tom went plundering. Their tongues touched, they both groaned, and what remaining control they had completely vanished. They kissed each other thoroughly while their bodies writhed together, while hands roamed and erections grew.

Chakotay moved again, pushing Tom backward, still kissing, finally breaking the hold on his mouth when Tom's legs hit the bed. They stared at each other's flushed face and glazed eyes and smiled. Tom grabbed the bottom of Chakotay's shirt and took it up and off. Chakotay pulled Tom close and they embraced, skin to skin, feeling their hearts beat together.

"Tom, I need to say something," Chakotay said softly.

Tom's pulse raced. He prayed it wasn't going to be the I hope you know this can mean nothing speech. He surprised himself by clutching the older man more tightly, making a noise of assent.

"What you said to me in Sandrine's, about Seska... you were right. I need to know that I can trust my next lover, but I don't need to dominate him. I don't want to dominate him."

Tom breathed.  "You can trust me, Chakotay, I promise."

"I think I know that. I'm willing to learn it, anyway," he said, chuckling quietly. "If you're willing to help. Because this is not going to be a one night thing, I don't do that, and I particularly won't do that with you."

Tom could have kissed him. He did kiss him, on the neck, with relish. "I want more than that, too. I'll do whatever it takes, I've waited too long..." He stopped himself before admitting more than he wanted.

"I know what you mean, Tom." Chakotay squeezed him more tightly, running his hands up and down Tom's back. "Spirits, you feel good..."

Tom smiled against Chakotay's skin. "And now?"

"Now, we make love until we can't move, then tomorrow we wake up together and do our duty shift and then we go out on a date. And talk. And then we go somewhere and make love some more and sleep some more and maybe do it all again. How does that sound?"

Tom responded by pulling back enough to make eye contact, then traced Chakotay's tattoo, trailing his fingertip down the strong jaw line. He descended on those soft, full lips, giving his soon-to-be lover a slow, deep, searing kiss. The intensity of it increased second by second, the promise inherent in it leaving them both breathless with anticipation. They moved together, down, onto the bed, to fall even more deeply, to give each other the most precious of gifts. Themselves. They both had waited too long.
 

End.

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