"You’re late, Lieutenant," Chakotay said in the middle of a pace as the turbolift door opened.

Paris stopped half-way to his console, turned and faced him. "Yes, sir. I guess I am. By a whole thirty seconds. Or is that thirty-one?"

"If it’s one second you’re still late. No problems with the turbolifts, I hope?"

Paris folded his arms. "No, sir. No babies to deliver. Just slept in. Sorry. It won’t happen again."

"I’d prefer not to reenact all that, Mr Paris," Chakotay said softly.

"Fine by me, sir."

Chakotay looked at him for several seconds, then turned away.

"Was that all, sir?" Paris asked innocently.

"Yes, Lieutenant."

"So I can take the conn now, sir?"

"Yes, Lieutenant."

"Thank you, sir, that’s very kind of you."

Chakotay sat down slowly and was silent for several seconds, watching the back of Paris’ head. "I’ll see you in my office at the end of the shift, Lieutenant Paris."

"It’s a date, sir," Paris muttered.

=/\=

"You’re late," Chakotay said again, then looked at the box in Paris’ hand. "What’s that?"

"Chocolates." Paris held them out, and when Chakotay didn’t take them he put them on the desk. "Consider it an apology. I didn’t sleep so well last night. Sorry I took it out on you this morning."

"I’ll accept your apology," Chakotay said slowly, "but not these. I don’t think it would be appropriate."

"I do," Paris said, looking straight at him.

Chakotay shifted slightly in his chair, then shook his head. "No. Please…" He handed the box back to Paris.

Paris stood there for a moment, then took it silently.

"Thank you, Lieutenant. I’ll see you on the bridge tomorrow."

"Yeah. See you then." He turned, expressionless, to the door and left the office as Chakotay stared after him.

=/\=

"I think maybe you should talk to him, sir," Harry had said, and entering the holodeck Chakotay could see why. It was late - none of the other Voyager crew members were there anymore - but Paris was still at the pool table, drinking, playing with one of the holocharacters, and losing badly.

Chakotay hesitated slightly in the doorway, then joined him. "Tom, are you okay?"

"I’m fine, Chakotay. Wanna play a game? These hustlers keep beating me." He took another swig of his drink and leaned over the table to take a shot.

"To be frank, Tom, I think Sam Wildman’s girl would be beating you."

Paris straightened, hitting one of the balls out of place with the cue as he brought it off the table. "That’s not a very nice thing to say, Chakotay."

Chakotay shrugged. "It’s true."

"Yeah, so I’m not playing my best tonight. Is that any reason to come all worried about my emotional state?" He reached for his glass and missed, knocking it to the floor. "Aw, hell! Sandrine, bring me another one, will you?"

"You ‘ave ‘ad enough to drink, cheri."

"I agree," Chakotay said, and took Paris’ arm. "Come on, Tom."

Paris looked at Chakotay’s hand. "You agree about the drinking part or the ‘cheri’ part?"

"The drinking part. Come on."

Paris pulled away angrily. "Do you have to be so stubborn? Just because you hated me once doesn’t mean you have to hate me for the rest of my life, you know."

"I don’t hate you, Tom."

"So what’s all this about? You pretending you couldn’t care less if I live or die? Or are you just too ashamed to admit you were wrong about me?"

Chakotay shook his head. "Tom-- Computer, end program."

The bar disappeared in a shimmer, replaced by the hologrid, and the pair stood facing each other alone. After a moment’s silence, Chakotay said, "You might want to see the doctor, Lieutenant. Will you be okay for shift tomorrow?"

"So it’s ‘lieutenant’ now? No more ‘Tom’, not when the subject gets a little uncomfortable. No, you wouldn’t want to admit you had any feelings for the resident mercenary."

"I have a lot of respect for the work you’ve done on Voyager," Chakotay said steadily, "but--" He caught Paris’ fist as it swung towards him, and held it tight against the one that quickly followed. His heart was racing, and he took a breath to calm himself down.

"To hell with your respect," Paris snapped, and leaned forward, lowering his voice. "That’s not what I want, and you know it."

"I don’t know what you’re talking about."

"That’s a lie, Chakotay." He looked straight into Chakotay’s eyes, then bent his head just enough to touch Chakotay’s lips with his own.

Chakotay froze for a moment, then pulled back. "I’m sorry, Tom, but--"

"But what? It’s not ‘appropriate’? Chakotay, no-one has to know. It’s not like we’re Starfleet, not really. The second we get back to the Alpha quadrant we go to prison, so why not live while we have the chance?"

"That’s not the point." He tried to clear his thoughts. "Tom, I just don’t feel that way towards you."

"Like hell you don’t. I’ve seen you, Chakotay, I’ve worked with you all these years, haven’t I? Do you think I’m blind? You can’t just pretend none of this is real, Chakotay. You know how I feel and I know how you feel. We can’t just pretend everything’s normal."

"Tom, I respect you. That’s all."

"Do you really distrust me that much? Haven’t I proved myself by now? What do I have to do, Chakotay?"

"If I cared about you that way, I wouldn’t have any reason not to say so, Tom."

"That’s what I thought, but you’re still not saying it, are you?"

Chakotay looked away for a moment, then shook his head. "Come to sickbay."

"I’m not leaving until you tell me the truth."

"I have," Chakotay said steadily, looking Paris straight in the eyes.

Paris stared back at him. "Hell."

"Come to sickbay," Chakotay repeated quietly, breathing a mental sigh of relief.

Paris moved automatically into the corridor. "You really mean it, don’t you?"

"Yes, I do." He put a hand on Paris’ shoulder to steady him as they turned into a turbolift. "Sickbay. I’m sorry, Tom."

"Forget it," Paris snapped, and propelled himself out of the lift, almost banging into the wall opposite before managing to turn with the help of Chakotay.

"Ah," the doctor said as they stepped into sickbay, "you appear to be rather intoxicated, Lieutenant."

"Yeah, you could say that," Paris muttered, and stumbled onto a biobed.

"I didn’t realise that alcohol was freely available on this ship."

"It’s not," Chakotay said. "I intend to look at his holodeck program."

"Hmm. I suggest you find someone to replace him for his shift tomorrow. He will probably not have recovered."

"Thank you, Doctor," Chakotay said, and left.

=/\=

He returned mid-morning. "How’re you feeling?"

Paris looked at him warily. "Not too bad. The doctor’s got a wonderful cure for hangovers. I must have been really drunk."

"I’d say so, Lieutenant."

"Yeah. You know, I don’t remember a thing. Hope I didn’t make too much of a scene."

It was a particularly obvious lie. "Not really," Chakotay said.

"I suppose I’m on report."

"Yes."

"You get that when you fiddle with holoprograms…"

Chakotay nodded slightly, then hesitated. "I’ll see you tomorrow morning," he said finally, and turned to leave.

"Yeah. See you."

Paris sounded so miserable that, as the door shut between them, Chakotay almost wished he did love him. Unsurprisingly, still in sickbay, Paris was wishing much the same.