"I Have Dreamed"
by Aimee

RATING: NC-17 for sexual explicitness.

WARNING: This is a slash story. As such, it describes sex between two men in great detail. If you are under the age of 18, then go away now; you can't read this. If homosexuality offends or disturbs you, then you should probably find something else to read.

DISCLAIMER: Tom, Harry, and the entire Delta quadrant belong to Paramount and UPN, not to me. However, I do own the Luhn'tim, the Kralah, and the text of this particular story.

OK! I finally finished my long (well, long for me, anyway) P/K story. Here it is; I hope you enjoy it!

"I Have Dreamed"
by Aimee

Harry and Chakotay were trapped by the encircling aliens. Well, I'm trapped, anyway; Chakotay actually seems to be enjoying himself, Harry mentally conceded. The planet was incredibly beautiful, the welcoming reception lavishly sumptuous, and the Luhn'tim gracious and generous hosts, but the conversation was deadly dull.

"So, hospitality is so important to your people because traveling is sacred?" Chakotay was saying.

"Yesss . . ." the alien dignitary answered reluctantly. He made a small gesture, as if impatient with himself for not being able to explain more clearly. "Journeying is sacred, not simple movement from one place to another. Traveling with a purpose, seeking . . . questing. Such travel broadens the mind and expands the soul."

"Like a pilgrimage," murmured Chakotay.

"Yes, precisely! Physical travel and spiritual travel combined into one journey. This is also why dreams are so important to us, so highly prized."

"Dreams?"

"Dreams. The spirit journeys even when the body is asleep. . ."

And on and on. Harry tuned them out. He felt slightly guilty admitting it, but right now all that interested him was the food and the change of scenery, not an exchange of religious ideas. But not too guilty. Being stuck on a ship with only intermittent and random chances for shore leave had taught him to make the most of these moments of relaxation. Well, that and Tom's sterling example. Besides, an alien religion wasn't nearly as fascinating as the non-Neelix food! Harry cast about for some avenue of escape.

Tom waved at him from across the pavilion. "Harry! Over here!" Harry waved back and excused himself quickly and gracefully. Then he hurried to join his friend.

Later that evening, Harry had eaten, drunk, and laughed himself almost into a stupor. Oh, this was fun, he thought. He hadn't realized quite how much he'd needed a break from the daily Voyager routine. He took a deep breath of crisp, outdoors, planet-fresh air, and smiled widely. Tom and B'Elanna looked like they'd had fun, too. They were smiling and leaning in close to each other. Harry's own smile faded a little as B'Elanna playfully hit Tom's arm and laughed. They're . . . flirting! Harry thought incredulously. Jealousy descended upon him so hard and fast that for a moment he literally couldn't see. He couldn't stand the thought of anyone else touching that skin, those lips, that golden hair . . . his thoughts trailed off in confusion. Oh, he thought after a moment. Then, when did that happen? He stared at Tom, eyes tracing the planes of his face, the lines of his body. His hair shone burnished under the rays of this alien sun. Harry's fingers twitched with an almost overpowering urge to brush that hair out of those blue eyes, to twine themselves in those curls. His thoughts were so focused on this astonishing new revelation that he completely missed the announcement the Luhn'tim head of state and their host this evening was making, the words "honored to perform this ceremony with you" floating in one ear and right out the other. His eyes were drawn to the ripple of muscle under his friend's uniform as he shifted slightly in his seat. A dreamy smile drifted across his face and his dark eyes unfocused slightly as he pictured Tom sitting there without his uniform. Lost in a haze of lasciviousness, he was just thinking I wonder what it would be like when a burst of light suddenly surrounded him, caressed him, invaded the very cells of his body. He was caught, shaken, dazzled by the brilliance of the light. The light began to fade, and the world settled itself into new patterns around him. Then the light left him completely, taking his consciousness with it.

He opened his eyes slowly, and stared at the ceiling. And stared. He vaguely felt that there was something he should be doing, but he couldn't remember what it was. Get up? Yes, maybe that was it. He sat up.

"Ah, Mr. Kim, you're awake." A voice spoke, dry and crisp. Harry turned his head towards the source of the sound. That face . . . yes . . . he knew that face. Somewhere from the depths of his brain a name surfaced, and he spoke it.

"Doctor."

When it became apparent that Harry wasn't going to say anything else, the Doctor continued. "Yes, I understand that you livened up the festivities on the planet a bit. Gave the Captain quite a scare." He paused. "How do you feel?"

Harry considered this. "I feel . . . good!" He sounded surprised. "Rested. At peace."

"Yes, that's consistent with the effects the Luhn'tim described to us."

"Oh." He looked around. Sickbay looked just as it usually did, but he thought there was something missing. Something . . . someone? Not Kes, someone else. He couldn't remember. He became aware that the Doctor looked as if he expected Harry to say something. Obligingly, he asked, "Effects?"

It seemed to satisfy him. "Yes. As I'm sure you remember, our hosts on the planet were performing a religious ceremony to end the reception with the proper blessings and solemnities. Apparently, it's some sort of tradition. Well, the ceremony involves what they call the Kralah. As they explained it to us, the Kralah is a moment of spiritual transcendence and revelation. The participants in the ceremony meditate; they focus their minds on one thought, and one thought alone, to the exclusion of everything else. Then the person who has focused his thoughts most successfully -- the Luhn'tim call this 'attaining the pure soul and the single eye' -- is chosen. I'm not sure how they can tell which person is the most focused or exactly how the rest of the Kralah works because they refused to go into detail, despite the fact that, as your doctor, I needed that information to treat any possible complications, but never mind." The Doctor seemed rather miffed. "Suffice it to say that this ritual builds up some sort of psychic energy, which is then released into the mind of the chosen celebrant. Which, in this case, was you, Mr. Kim."

"Me?" He was beginning to be able to think more clearly. "But I didn't participate in this ritual."

"No, but you were evidently thinking very hard about something. So hard, that you were concentrating solely on it, and were aware of nothing else. In other words, you inadvertently attained the pure soul and single eye. You were so focused that you were chosen instead of one of the Luhn'tim monks. Congratulations. Apparently, it's quite an honor."

"Thanks. When will I be able to leave sickbay?"

"Right away. You're in perfect health, Mr. Kim. The Kralah caused you no physical harm whatsoever, and the only side effects the Luhn'tim mentioned were a temporary sense of peace and well-being and increased dream activity in the following weeks. You won't be able to remember what you were thinking about when you were chosen, so don't try. It will come back to you in the dreams. So be prepared for more vivid dreams than usual, but other than that you should have nothing to worry about. You can resume your duties immediately."

"Thank you, Doctor." Harry stood and started to make his way back to his quarters.

The turbolift doors whooshed open. Tom Paris shot out of the lift so fast he almost ran Harry over. "Harry!" Off-balance, Tom grabbed Harry's arms to steady himself. Harry, startled, drew a deep breath. The touch of those hands on his arms, the feel of that body against his, the scent filling his nostrils, making him dizzy . . . Harry's hands moved forward of their own volition, heading for Tom's waist. But, just then, Tom found his balance and moved away from him. Harry's hands hovered in the air a moment, then dropped to his side.

Tom said, "Harry, I was just going to sickbay to see you. I heard you were awake. Are you OK?"

Harry nodded. "I'm fine, Tom. The Doctor says I'm in perfect health."

Tom let out a breath -- almost a sigh. "Good." He sounded extremely relieved. "I was really worried about you, Har. The way you just collapsed like that . . . you really scared me."

For just a moment, Tom's eyes were unguarded, naked of their usual flippant mask. Harry looked into them, and was lost momentarily in their blue depths, unable to read the expression he saw there. "I'm fine," he repeated, and moved a step closer to him.

Then the moment was over and the mask snapped firmly back into place. "Yeah, well. Just don't let it happen again," Tom said, smiling, then slapped Harry on the back. "C'mon. Let's go to Sandrine's. I'll buy you a drink and you can tell me all about this Kralah thing. Man, you should have seen the Captain's face when the Luhn'tim tried to explain what happened to you. Was she ever pissed! She said . . . ."

They walked down the corridor together, and Harry realized that the sense of something missing that had plagued him since he woke up was finally gone. As he listened to his cheerful babble, Tom threw a casual, friendly arm across his shoulders. It burned liked a brand.

That night, Harry dreamed. He was sitting next to Tom on a picnic blanket, enjoying the sight of the sun setting over the ocean. The water was a clear, beautiful blue, like Tom's eyes, and the sky was deep and lovely. The sun sent streaks of burning, vibrant pinks and reds streaming over the horizon.

Tom wrapped his arm around him. Harry sighed, and rested his head on Tom's shoulder. Tom turned his head slightly and brushed a kiss, soft and sweet, across Harry's temple.

Harry murmured, "Love you," and sank peacefully into a deeper, dreamless sleep.

He ran into Tom in the turbolift on the way to the bridge the next morning. "Good morning, Harry. Sleep well?"

Harry shot him a furtive, sideways glance. "Uh, fine. Why do you ask?"

Tom looked surprised. "No reason. I was just being friendly. You know. 'Good morning, how are you, did you sleep well last night?'"

Harry sighed, smiled, and gave a little, rueful laugh. "Sorry, Tom. I had a weird dream last night. You just reminded me of it, that's all. Hey, are we still on for lunch this afternoon?"

Tom cocked his head and studied him. Harry felt himself flushing. "What?" he asked. Tom opened his mouth to say something, but just then the lift came to a stop and the doors slid open. Saved by the bell, Harry thought. As they walked onto the bridge together, Tom shook his head and said, "Nothing. See you at lunch."

ONE MONTH LATER

Eyes dark with arousal, Tom lowered his head and kissed Harry deeply, his tongue caressing the inside of Harry's mouth. Harry moaned. He slid his hands up the sweat-slick, naked expanse of Tom's beautiful back, stroked the nape of his strong neck, and then slipped his fingers into those golden curls. Tom pulled back slightly for air, then kissed Harry again, but lightly, teasingly this time. He ran his tongue over Harry's lower lip, then licked his own. "Mmm, you taste good." He did it again, then pulled Harry's lip into his mouth and began to suck. Harry's grip on Tom's hair tightened convulsively. Tom released his lip and kissed his cheek, his chin, little darting kisses all over his face, and then settled on a place just below Harry's ear. He nipped it softly, then drew the delicate skin into the warm cavern of his mouth. Harry writhed. Just when he thought he would go crazy from the sucking pressure, Tom added his tongue, licking Harry's neck. He gasped, and jerked his hips forward, rubbing his erection along the hot, velvety-steel length of his lover's. Tom groaned. Harry did it again. Another groan. He moved his hand from Tom's head to his chest and did it a third time while gently pinching Tom's nipple. A sobbing gasp that sounded vaguely like "Harry!"

"Tom!" Harry said breathlessly. "Tom, please!" Tom moaned assent and stopped his teasing torture of Harry's neck. He planted a quick, hard kiss on Harry's lips, and moved his mouth to the place Harry wanted it the most. Harry shouted as Tom's wet, hot mouth completely engulfed his aching penis, then moaned as Tom sucked him down his throat. He tried to hold still, but, oh!, it felt so good, and his hips began to buck, and so hot, so slick, so good, and then to thrust, and so perfect, Tom, you're perfect, I love you, love you, love. . .

Harry exploded, and woke up.

He smiled at the ceiling in delight and satisfaction, the smile of a man who had just been thoroughly made love to by one whom he loved. Your turn, Tom, he thought, and reached out to embrace his lover. But his questing hand met only empty bedclothes. Startled, he sat up and looked around. "Computer, lights." What . . .? Not only was Tom not there, but there was also no sign that he had ever been there. Harry suddenly felt a little dizzy.

He shuddered as realization hit. What was I thinking? Tom and I aren't lovers. It was just another dream. A single tear slid, unnoticed, down his cheek. But it was so real . . .

Every night for a month -- ever since he accidentally involved himself in that alien religious ceremony -- he had dreamed of Tom. Specifically, he had dreamed of making love to Tom. Making wonderful, passionate, glorious love. And, as the Doctor had promised, the dreams were vivid. Very vivid. They felt real to him, when most of his dreams felt surreal and transitory, even while he was dreaming them. But this is the first time I ever woke up convinced that the dreams really were real. That can't be a good sign. Something must be wrong with me. I should go to sickbay. But that would mean explaining to the Doctor exactly what his dreams had been about, and he did not want to do that. He felt himself blush at the mere thought. These dreams were much too private, too intimate, too precious and delicate to expose to the harsh light of scientific inquiry. I'll wait until tomorrow. It's not that urgent. The Doctor did say I'd have vivid dreams, after all. Besides, maybe they'll go away by themselves. Slowly, he talked himself out of it, rationalizing his problem away. Turning out the lights, he lay down and went back to sleep.

But they didn't go away.

"Ensign Kim, I gave you an order." The Captain was frowning at him.

Harry snapped to attention, dragging his eyes away from the turbolift doors, where Tom had just exited. "Yes, Ma'am, scanning the M-class planet now."

Captain Janeway glanced toward the lift, then back at Harry. "May I see you in my ready room a moment, Ensign?"

Harry's heart sank. "Yes, Ma'am."

Once safely in her office, Janeway gestured to a chair. "Have a seat, Mr. Kim."

Harry sat.

"I've noticed you've been unusually...distracted, lately. You've obviously had something on your mind, and it's affecting your job performance. Would you like to talk about it?"

He looked away. "It's personal, Captain."

Katherine said gently, "When you bring it onto the bridge with you, it stops being personal."

Harry flushed, but said nothing.

"All right, Harry. I won't force you to talk to me. But I do think..." She hesitated, then continued, her meaning plain in her voice. "I think you should talk to Tom."

Harry stared at her in shock. Her eyes were sympathetic. He swallowed, then said faintly, "Yes, ma'am."

The next morning, Tom woke Harry with a kiss. Harry opened his eyes. "Well, hello," he said.

Tom smiled. "Good morning, sleepyhead. I knew that would get you, er, 'up.'"

Harry laughed and wrapped his arms around Tom's neck. "I'm still a little sleepy. Maybe you'd better wake me up some more."

"Maybe I'd better," Tom murmured and lowered his lips to Harry's.

The kiss was long and sweet and lazy, an exploration and celebration. Harry smiled against Tom's lips. "You're really very good at that, you know." Tom laughed and did it again, doing his best to kiss Harry speechless.

He succeeded.

Breathless, Harry pulled back and began to kiss his way down Tom's body. He kissed Tom's chin, licked his throat, nipped his shoulder, and nibbled his chest, pausing when he reached the nipple. He glanced up at Tom. He was breathing heavily, eyes half-closed, hands fisted at his sides, waiting. Harry smiled, and slowly drew his tongue in a circle around the dusky aureole, finger mimicking the action on the other side. He did it again, slightly faster. Then again, and again, speeding up each time. Then, unexpectedly, Harry wrapped his lips around Tom's nipple and sucked hard, flicking it with his tongue. At the same time, he grasped the sensitized bud of the other nipple and squeezed.

Tom moaned, and gasped, and shivered in delight. He slid his hands over the soft skin of Harry's back, enjoying the satiny texture. He traced the length of Harry's spine, caressing each vertebra, until his hands came to rest in the small of Harry's back. Harry's mouth and tongue paused mid-movement. Tom lightly bit Harry's shoulder and slowly pushed one finger into the cleft of Harry's ass. Harry sucked his breath in sharply. Tom moved his finger in and out of that tight opening in a thrusting motion. Harry squirmed. When the muscle had loosened slightly, Tom added a second finger. Harry moaned. Loudly. "Oh, yes, Tom, that's so good." Then Tom's probing fingers found Harry's prostate. He stroked it, causing Harry to sob aloud. A third finger joined the other two. When Harry found his voice, he shouted, "Now, Tom, please! I can't wait much longer!"

Tom kissed him briefly in agreement and fumblingly reached for the lubricant. Harry took it away from him, saying, "No. Let me." He squirted some of the cool gel into his palm and lovingly rubbed it onto Tom's straining cock, caressing and teasing as he worked.

Harry turned over and rose to his hands and knees. Tom positioned himself behind him and paused, hovering there. Harry groaned. "Now, Tom. Hurry!" Tom entered him with one swift thrust. Harry shuddered in pleasure. "Ohhhh, yes, Tom, that it."

Tom withdrew slightly and surged forward again, Harry bucking back to meet him. They settled quickly into a rhythm, partners in a dance as old as the stars themselves. Tom reached around their joined bodies with one hand, took Harry's cock in a firm grasp, and added the pumping of his hand to their dance.

Harry gasped and trembled. Pleasure rose in him in wave after wave, surrounding him, overwhelming him until he couldn't see, couldn't hear, could only feel, and then he was flying, soaring, and Tom was with him too, both of them screaming in ecstasy.

When Harry came back to himself, he was lying face-down in bed, wrapped in sweat- and semen-soaked sheets. He smiled, and turned to look at Tom.

But he only saw an empty pillow.

Harry stumbled, rumpled and wild-eyed, around the corner, consumed by one thought. I have to tell him. "Computer, location of Lieutenant Paris," he asked yet again, as if Tom would have moved in past five minutes. "Lieutenant Paris is in the mess hall," the computer replied patiently. This is torture. I can't live like this anymore. Even if he doesn't love me back, maybe telling him will make the dreams stop. I can't stand having him treat me like a friend when I know exactly how wonderful it would be to be his lover. The Captain's right; I have to tell him.

He entered the mess hall almost without realizing it, and quickly scanned the tables for Tom. And found him sitting between B'Elanna and Chakotay. B'Elanna, looking tired but excited, was talking passionately about some new project she had going on in Engineering. Harry started toward them.

Chakotay was frowning in concern. "I'm sure this new project is as useful as you say it is, but, B'Elanna, I worry about you. How late were you in Engineering last night? You spend so much time working; it's not good to push yourself so hard."

B'Elanna's jaw tightened dangerously. Before she could explode, Tom said, "Aww, you know B'Ela. She has the stamina of 10 women." And he leered at her.

Harry stopped in his tracks.

B'Elanna snorted. "Just because you're all talk and no action doesn't mean we all are, Paris."

Tom started to retort, but, before he said anything, he noticed Harry standing there. He brightened. "Harry! Come join us!"

Harry started. "Uhh, sorry, I was just leaving." He turned and hurried out the door.

"But, Harry, you haven't eaten yet," B'Elanna said, confused, to his retreating back. A hurt and bewildered expression slid quickly across Tom's face and was gone, lingering only in his eyes.

Weeks passed, and Harry continued to dream. Duty shifts were torture now; standing at Ops, the conn was directly in his line of sight. Keeping the Captain's gentle reprimand in mind, he somehow managed to keep his growing distraction and absentmindedness from being quite so obvious while he was on duty; nevertheless, he found himself staring at the back of Tom's head time and again, remembering his dreams. He grew to hate Starfleet uniforms -- the damn things were so tight that rampant erections (such as the one Harry often sported these days) were painfully obvious. When he was off-duty, he alternated between hanging out with Tom just as he used to, only touching him much more frequently (small, casual touches -- a pat on the back, an arm across the shoulders, a brush on the turbolift or in the corridor -- that lingered much longer than was strictly necessary) and avoiding him altogether. Tom was starting to give Harry odd, confused glances when he thought he wasn't looking. But Harry was always looking. He watched Tom constantly; he couldn't seem to help himself. Even when he tried to avoid Tom, he found himself following him, spying on him. One night, he found himself going to bed early, eagerly hunting out his phantom lover, about to explode from unrequited love (and lust). If I can't have him in reality, at least I can have him in my dreams. Sometimes Harry would pause and realize how peculiarly he was behaving -- That's it, he would think, I've gone crazy, or, Harry, stop stalking Tom and go see the Doctor! You need professional help -- but most of the time he didn't think about it.

And he didn't talk to Tom about it either.

He almost did, once. Tom knew something was bothering his friend -- it was rather hard to miss -- and he tried to ask Harry about it. He was alone with Harry in his quarters, listening to him practice his clarinet. When Harry, distracted by having Tom's undivided attention, flubbed a simple passage for the third time in a row, Tom leaned forward and put a hand on his thigh. "Harry."

The music faltered to a stop. Harry said nothing. "Please, Harry," continued Tom, "tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing's wrong, Tom, I'm just rusty. I've been too busy to practice recently -- "

"I'm not talking about your clarinet. I'm talking about the way you've been acting around me lately. Have I . . . I don't know, have I done something to offend you?"

"No!" Harry cried, horrified. "You mustn't think that. I'm not offended by you, I'm. . ."

There was a pause.

"What?" Tom asked softly.

"I'm . . ."

"Harry, please tell me. You're practically the only friend I have on Voyager, besides B'Elanna. Sometimes I think your friendship is the only thing that keeps me going out here. Keeps me sane. I'd hate to lose it."

Harry looked into those pleading, worried eyes and thought, Yes. B'Elanna. His gut twisted. "I'm sorry, Tom. I didn't realize I was taking it out on you. I've just been tired lately." At Tom's unconvinced look, he added, "Well . . . homesick. You see, Libby . . ." he trailed off, unable to come up with a convincing excuse.

Despite Harry's transparent fabrication, Tom looked enlightened. "That's right, your anniversary would have been last week, wouldn't it. No wonder you've been in such a crummy mood. I forgot; I'm sorry."

Harry had forgotten, too.

Things might have gone on like this indefinitely if fate, in the guise of a food-gathering mission to an uninhabited planet, hadn't intervened. Tricorder in hand, Harry called out, "Tom! Over here! I think I've found something."

Leaving the rest of his team behind, Tom joined Harry by the bank of the river. "Look." Harry pointed to the water. Tom squinted against the sun and shielded his eyes with his hand as he peered into the briskly flowing river. He didn't see anything at first, but eventually he was able to make out dark shadows darting to-and-fro against the deep blue backdrop of the water. "Fish!" he cried delightedly. "And they're edible?" he asked, dropping his hand. He turned to face Harry, eyes shining with excitement. "Finally, a reprieve from leola root stew and hair pasta!"

Harry swallowed, hard. The sun shone in Tom's hair like fire, and he had last seen that happy, mischievous look in Tom's eyes during a particularly memorable dream. Is it just me, or is it really hot in here? Harry thought dizzily. His hand reached out of its own accord. Tenderly, he caressed Tom's face, then brushed his thumb over his lips. Tom made a small, surprised, choking sound. Harry came back to himself with an almost audible snap and quickly dropped his hand. "Yeah," he said inanely. He began backing away from his too-tempting friend. "Um . . . I'll go tell the others. We can get some fishing equipment and come back here." He turned and fled. Tom followed slowly, eyes narrowed in speculation.

The next day, Tom cornered Harry in the mess hall. "Harry, do you have any plans for this evening?"

Harry avoided Tom's eyes. "Um, I'm not sure," he said to his breakfast. "That is . . . I think so --"

"Good," Tom continued over Harry's embarrassed mumblings. "I've got this great new holoprogram to try out. Meet me in holodeck 2 at 1900 hours."

"Tom, I don't think I can make it --"

"Yes, you can. 1900 hours. See you then!" Whistling jauntily, he strode out of the room.

Harry sighed. Well, he supposed he couldn't avoid Tom forever, but a few days might be nice. Might as well just bite the bullet and get it over with. Tom obviously isn't going to let this go. "All right. See you then," he whispered to himself.

Harry stood outside the door to the holodeck, gathering his courage. According to the computer, Tom was already inside and the program was up and running. I can't stay out here in the hall forever. Just go in already. He took a deep breath and entered the holodeck.

He took a few steps inside and stopped in surprise. He knew this place. A blanket lay on a sandy beach, a picnic basket and champagne bottle off to one side. The water was a clear, beautiful blue (like Tom's eyes, he thought) and the sky was deep and lovely. The sun was setting, sending burning, vibrant pinks and reds streaming over the horizon.

He had seen this place in his dreams.

"Hello, Harry." A voice came from one side. "I'm glad you're here."

Harry turned to face him, eyes wide with love and wonder. "Tom...this place...how did you know?"

Tom smiled shyly. "Do you like it? I programmed it for you."

Harry didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "Like it? Oh, Tom...it's wonderful. I love it!"

"Good," Tom said, looking happy and relieved. "Good."

They settled companionably onto the blanket together and watched the sun set in silence for a moment.

Tom took a deep breath. "Harry, there's something I have to tell you. I don't quite know how to say it, so I'm just going to come right out with it. I love you, Harry." Harry made a small, involuntary sound, halfway between a choke and a sob. Tom gave him a worried glance, and hurried on, "I have for a long time. Almost from the first moment we met. But I knew I could never have you, so I swore I would never tell you. You were in love with Libby for so long... But yesterday, by the river, when you touched my face like that, I thought . . ." He trailed off. "Don't just sit there, Harry, say something. Anything!"

Harry felt as if the world had just shifted 180 degrees around him. He sat for a moment, absorbing this new information. He felt himself begin to smile. He opened his mouth to say something, as requested, but all that came out was an amused chuckle. A stunned and confused expression crept across Tom's face -- whatever reaction he had been expecting, it was most definitely not this. Harry began to laugh in earnest.

When he calmed down, he said, "Oh, Tom. What a pair we are. Both of us in love with the other and too jealous and scared to say anything." He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye.

Tom's eyes lit. "You love me?"

Harry nodded.

"Say it! Please, I need to hear you say it," Tom begged.

"I love you, Tom Paris. Now and forever." And to prove it, Harry leaned forward and captured Tom's mouth in a tender, caressing kiss.

It was even better than he had dreamed.

FINIS
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