Harry's Thanksgiving Tom
Summary: It's Thanksgiving on Voyager. Turkey is appropriate, isn't it? A PWP fantasy. After Tom neglects Harry to plan for Thanksgiving, Harry collects on a prior debt, one Harry had fixed. This is the second in a Holiday Series, Harry's Halloween Dance Date was first.
Disclaimer: The turkey, the Ensign and the Lieutenant (sigh), and everything, belong to Paramount. The story is mine. Copyright 1998.
Warning: R for adult situations. This one turns a bit dark. If male-male relationships bother you, please read elsewhere. If you are under 18, don't even think about reading it.
R version, Nov. 1, 1998
B'Elanna cornered her friend Harry at breakfast the morning after the Halloween Dance. Harry looked a little ill at ease as she approached his table. Tom Paris was nowhere in sight, funny, she thought, they usually ate together. But then Tom had been pulling a lot of extra shifts in sickbay lately. "So, Harry," she greeted.
"Hey," he returned with a nervous smile.
B'Elanna read his body language carefully. Okay, there was something he didn't want to tell her. Must be about his date with Seven last night. "How'd things go with Seven?" she asked, getting right to the heart of matters.
He sputtered on his juice. "B'Elanna, do I ask you about your dates?"
"Nice try, Starfleet. Spill all."
Just then Seven entered the mess hall and B'Elanna took a good look. Maybe Neelix had a point last night when he observed that Seven seemed rather tall as she and Harry had hurried out of Sandrine's. With her Engineering training allowing her to spot misalignments that were only millimeters off, B'Elanna narrowed her eyes and gazed reflectively at Harry. "Or *was* that Seven you were with?"
Oh, no, Harry felt himself turn beet red. He gave B'Elanna an appraising look. Although he knew he had Tom right where he wanted him, B'Elanna was certainly another matter altogether. "How did you guess?"
So, she was right, B'Elanna hadn't been certain until Harry just admitted it that he hadn't been with Seven. Who . . .? Of course, Tom Paris. Gracing Harry with a conspiratorial look, she answered, "It was Tom." She leaned closer to Harry, "You were with Tom last night. I want to know everything."
Harry was sure she did want to know everything, but he wasn't sure he wanted his relationship with Tom out in the open. Suppose general knowledge of it changed the dynamics? He would have to be very careful. "Look, Maquis, I can't tell you *everything*." He improvised, "Tom would kill me." Oh, yeah, Tom would kill him with a display of Paris wiggle that would prove irresistible. He felt himself blush again as B'Elanna scrutinized his face. "He would."
"So, what can you tell me?"
"We . . . uh . . . we're seeing each other."
"About three - four weeks." Twenty-two days, 18 hours and a few minutes.
Obviously such a sketchy detail left B'Elanna wanting more. Harry tried to figure out what he could safely say to her. Yeah, he could just hear himself telling her the truth, that he'd stripped Tom out of that body suit, and then, well, he wasn't going to go into details with her even as he remembered all that he and Tom had done. He had to get a grip here. Returning B'Elanna's brown-eyed stare with one of his own, he said, "We . . .we enjoy each other's company."
"Harry, please. You do have sex, don't you?" She had her answer in his nonplused expression. "Good. And Harry, Tom can be a little neglectful. He's going to need a firm hand." She gave her words a moment's reflection. "I was too afraid of my Klingon side doing irreparable harm to give him what he needed."
She smiled broadly at his startled look and thought that this was getting better and better. "Good for you, Starfleet, and I won't tell anyone. Oh, and let me know if you ever want any help," was all she said as she turned her attention to her breakfast.
Harry gave up on his breakfast and gave her a weak smile as he left.
On the bridge, Tom had already preceded him. As Harry took up his post and checked out his monitors, every now and again, he caught Tom fidgeting in his seat. Suppressing his smile, Harry attributed Tom's discomfort to the activities of last night. No wonder Tom had gotten here ahead of everyone else on this shift. Obviously, Tom didn't want them to notice how difficult it must have been for him to sit down. Although Tom could have used a dermal regenerator, for reasons of his own, he apparently had chosen not to do so. Harry guessed that Tom liked the reminder of their time together and he smiled to himself at the pleasure he took in ferreting out this tidbit.
At the helm, Tom was acutely aware of Harry's entrance, of Harry's gaze on the back of his neck. However, he risked only a quick glance backward at Harry when Janeway and Chakotay entered to take their seats. He managed to catch Harry's eye and smiled at him, pretending to be smiling at the newcomers on the bridge. If only he was going to be free tonight instead of pulling five hours in sickbay. Halloween had really turned out special, even if he had had to wear that ridiculous outfit and those awful heels. Harry's loving attentions to him had more than made up for any discomfort. Turning back to his console, his smile lingered, now more for himself than anyone else. He told himself, there must be another holiday coming up soon.
A few days later, when he had a free night because he was finally off shift and Harry was practicing music with his wind quartet, Tom spent some time with the computer to determine the next holiday. Neelix's Talaxian holiday of Prixin wouldn't appear for months yet, and Tuvok's celebrations struck him as a little on the severe side. Ah, what was this? Thanksgiving? Although his family hadn't celebrated the ancient US holiday, he remembered Harry mentioning something about it at one time. Wasn't it about relatives getting together to eat a large bird called a turkey? Or was that Christmas? Tom wasn't sure. But the computer was quite sure how to describe Thanksgiving.
Hmm, Tom thought, Pilgrim outfits were interesting, native American outfits more so. But did anyone really believe those holopics of native Americans in the Northeastern US wearing such skimpy clothing in November? He could have taken survival training in New England in late fall, it was that cold on his few trips there at that time of the year. So, these representations were no doubt somebody's fantasy of how it must have been.
Lots of food possibilities here. He clicked on pictures that showed Thanksgiving celebrations as they'd been enacted through the centuries. One in particular caught his attention. A huge plump cooked bird sat on an enormous platter on a table filled with food. But the turkey, as it was called, occupied center stage. A slender white cylinder rose out of the plumpness of the bird's rump. Apparently he was looking at an old advertisement touting the benefits of buying these succulent toms with their own built-in pop-up thermometers. Interesting, Tom thought, as his inventive mind processed various possibilities for a memorable Thanksgiving for Harry. Well, he had a few weeks to work on this idea. Meantime, perhaps Neelix would be interested in some of his research.
When Neelix and Tom brought up a Thanksgiving holiday meal, the Captain had been more than receptive. Similar to Harry, she had fond memories of Thanksgiving food. She gave them the go-ahead to plan the event and only hoped that Neelix would go along with the traditional recipes without undue experimentation. The holiday was to be a surprise for the crew and would not be announced until a few days before the feast was to begin. She did bring Chakotay in on the plans since he planned the duty rosters and he managed to work out shift rotations that would allow all to spend some time in the mess hall sharing in the meal. For his part, Chakotay's interest was piqued when he realized this celebration had something to do with European Americans thanking Native Americans for their help. As he checked the computer entries, he realized that although this tribe had been far to the north and east of his own ancestors, nonetheless, the idea of tolerance and gratitude that seemed to be at the core of the festivities appealed to him greatly.
In the midst of all of this, and much to his puzzlement, Tom managed to lose another bet to Harry. Mysteriously, Harry told him that he'd collect in due time. Although Harry hadn't been told of the upcoming surprise feast, he had noticed his lover to be more absent than usual. In fact, he complained pointedly at the way Tom was never around anymore. Checking Tom's computer logs had been almost too easy and he puzzled over the meaning of the many hits on Thanksgiving. Just what was his lover planning? Well, he would do a little planning of his own.
The holiday arrived and Tom and Neelix supervised and fussed over the meal. As Neelix stood to one side, Tom brought out an immense platter filled with a huge stuffed turkey (replicated). He placed it on the table where the senior staff sat, catching Harry's look of incredulity as he did so. Tom smiled to himself to see Harry's reaction. Brandishing a scoop, he first unstuffed the bird, then replaced the scoop in his hand with a large carving knife. He had researched the proper carving of the turkey, nonetheless this was his first actual attempt. He was a little nervous tackling this in front of the crew, especially in front of the captain who was smiling at him as if encouraging an infant to take its first halting steps.
B'Elanna looked as if she thought a bat'leth wouldn't hurt and Chakotay seemed nonplused by the size of the turkey as if calculating how many replicator rations that thing had taken. The doctor appeared about ready to step in and correct Tom's surgery but a look from the captain had him subsiding in his seat. Seven looked at the turkey, looked at Tom, looked at Harry, looked back at the turkey, and only the gleam in her eyes betrayed her inner bemusement at the customs of humans. Tuvok and Neelix both kept their eyes on the turkey, but for different reasons. Tuvok meditated briefly on the meaning of stuffing a bird, bringing it to a table, and engaging in ceremony in preparing it for eating. There was the sacred, he concluded, and then there was lunacy. For his part, Neelix was determined to help Tom if Tom wavered in his self-appointed task as carver of the turkey. As it was, the slippery bird required Neelix's fur covered hand to steady it to keep it on the platter and to prevent it from skating across the table right into the captain's lap.
Tom completed his task with a devilish glint in his eyes. So far there had been no disaster, his lover seemed to appreciate all the trouble he'd gone to, and on top of that, the gravy covered turkey on his plate actually tasted pretty good. It turned out to be a good meal.
Although Harry felt content from the meal, heartened by being able to understand the preparations that had kept Tom away from him, still, there were nagging issues that he knew he and Tom needed to face. There was a little matter of a debt that Tom still owed Harry. Saving the silver body suit for another occasion, Harry had earlier used some of the replicator rations he'd won off Tom to replicate for him an entirely new outfit, one fitting the theme of Tom's holiday.
On the way to Harry's quarters, Harry complimented Tom on the meal and Tom basked in his praise. It had gone well, Tom conceded to himself, satisfied that all his preparations had pleased his friend and lover. However, once inside Harry's quarters, some of Tom's well being began to dissipate. The ensign smilingly displayed an interesting outfit for Tom's modeling. "No way, Harry," Tom announced when he finally got a good look at what his friend had in mind.
Very softly, Harry reminded him, "You lost the bet, Tom."
"But . . . but that's a dress. A really hideous dress at that!"
"It's a dress especially fitting for this holiday. I really want to see you in it," Harry insisted with a smile. "Besides, be grateful I didn't ask you to wear this out in public. This time."
He took a few steps inside Tom's personal space and whispered in Tom's ear, "And you owe me for more than this, you know that, don't you?"
Harry's words sent a shiver through Tom. Feeling miserable over disappointing Harry, Tom confessed, "Harry, I just can't do it. I can't wear that. Please. Ask me for something else. Anything."
Harry noticed Tom's use of the word 'anything'. His lover had used that word before and Harry figured that this time maybe what he had in mind would qualify as 'anything'. But there was a principle involved in the matter of the dress and the bet that couldn't be made to disappear. After being ignored and neglected for weeks, Harry leaned in to hold Tom's eyes in his gaze and to emphasize his softly spoken words, "Tom, I am not happy."
Tom well knew that Harry had been frankly neglected of late, what with the planning for the Thanksgiving feast. Tom had hoped his intense lover would somehow be willing to pass it off as Tom working hard to surprise him with a treat, but with those whispered words, Tom knew he'd have no such luck. Realizing that it was going to be one of those nights, Tom shivered again. Maybe he could explain. "Harry, give me a minute and I can explain. . . I haven't been around, I know that. But I was busy preparing for this holiday, it was supposed to be a surprise for the crew." Tom tried out a pout. "I thought you liked it."
"I did. But I thought I meant more to you than just another crew member. Did it ever occur to you to include me in your plans, let me help you? Hell," Tom winced, Harry usually didn't use such words, "you told *Neelix*."
Finally, Tom got it. Tom had allowed Neelix to take Harry's place. "You're jealous!"
Harry's face looked angry, his voice sounded angry, and he leaned right into Tom's face. "When are you going to figure out that I'm supposed to be a part of your life? That you ask *me* to help you? That you tell *me* about your surprises? What's it going to take, Tom, huh?"
Tom's expression became remote and unfocused as he wondered what it would take. When would it sink in enough to make a difference?
Harry grabbed his shoulders and roughly turned Tom to face him. "Pay attention, Tom." In a cold, stern voice, Harry told him, "You've been ignoring me. You want to welch on a bet. I am not happy with you, Tom."
Caught up in the intensity of the moment, Tom choked, his eyes blurring with tears. "I'm sorry."
"Sorry is not good enough, is it, Tom?"
"No," came the soft reply. "I want to make it up to you."
Harry's fingers began to bunch Tom's shoulder muscles in tight clenches. "I'm glad to hear it. However, this time it's going to be a little different because I am very upset with you. You won't be able to charm your way out of this. Do you understand me?"
Briefly, Tom's mind wandered. If B'Elanna had taken care of his neglect of her in this manner, dealing so directly with him, would they still be together? A sudden hard wrenching of his shoulder brought him back to the reality of the present. "What?"
"Do you understand, Tom, that this is going to be a little different?"
Tom's breath caught in a ragged inhale. Different? How? "Yes."
Speaking to the computer, Harry commanded, "Computer. Ensure complete privacy."
Tom trembled under Harry's still forceful grip on his shoulder. This was an unusual step. What did Harry want him to do besides wear that dreadful costume? Before going further, Harry sternly called his name to once again focus his attention. "Tom."
"Yes?" Tom's breathing was definitely ragged, his heartbeat rapid, and he felt just a trace of fear as he looked into Harry's angry eyes. "But I love you, Harry" Tom protested, taking whatever advantage he could gain.
"And I love you, Tom. That's why I'm doing this. I'm not going to let you sabotage our relationship the way you have every other relationship you've ever had. Do you understand?"
Tom wasn't sure he did. Honestly, Tom told him, "No."
"You will." Harry paused for effect. "Tom. I want you to put on the dress."
A very startled and shocked face looked back at him. "What?"
Calmly, Harry said, "You heard me. I want to see you wear it. You lost the bet, that's the condition. Put. On. The. Dress. Now. And, no sulking." Harry watched all the emotions that played across his lover's face, shock, fear, anger, guilt, resignation.
Somehow Tom had forgotten all about the dress in the heat of Harry's anger. To hear Harry's demands now came as a shock to him. Couldn't Harry have forgotten about it? Apparently not. Shit. However, Tom regretfully understood that he'd gotten only what he'd deserved. Harry could actually have been a lot rougher with him considering the magnitude of his neglect. Finally, in an even tone, Tom said, "I'll need help."
Harry smiled at him. "You got it."
Tom said wryly. "So. Where's my new outfit?"
It took over an hour to arrange the several layers of the outfit. There was a long line corset that extended down to his waist, drawn together with interlaced ties at the back. In the front, the corset sculpted a pair of replicated breasts. There was an inner garment that went from his neck to his ankles, an outer garment that did the same, an apron, a hat to go over a wig. Tom almost lost it over the hat, but allowed Harry to tie the ribbons under his chin after a few perfunctory protests.
Harry helped him into white stockings that stretched up his thighs and then into shoes with large buckles on them. Hands at Tom's waist, Harry propelled him over to the mirror and had Tom pose in front of it. The late evening stubble on his chin marred somewhat the effect of a modest Pilgrim woman with a well endowed chest.
Harry beamed into the mirror over Tom's shoulder. "Looks great."
"Happy?" Tom asked, still not fully into the spirit of the costume change.
Harry took several pictures of his lover with a replicated camera. Later, he'd download the photos to his computer station to join those of Tom in the Seven outfit. Tom blushed hotly in each picture, acutely aware of how he looked. Harry finished with what Tom regarded as his total humiliation when Harry had him hike his skirt revealingly to his waist before the last vid. Then Harry put his hands on Tom's shoulders and turned him to face him. Harry kissed this beautiful maiden before him deeply on the lips and was pleased when he was kissed back. Harry pulled away a little to gauge Tom's emotional state. A very glazed look was in Tom's eyes and he seemed to be moving as if in a daze. "Harry . . .?"
"I love you, Tom, I cherish you. You are the one I want with me."
Tom's reeling mind latched on to what Harry had said. "You love me?"
"Yes, Tom, I love you. Do you remember what I said? I don't want you sabotaging this relationship?"
Tom nodded and whispered, "I don't want to do that."
"Tom, I don't know what to do with you to prevent that from happening." At Tom's stillborn protest, Harry pressed a finger to those finely shaped lips.
"Will you give up on me?" Tom asked almost afraid of the answer.
"No. I wasn't going to say that. I'll be with you until you tell me you want out." Harry lifted up Tom's head with a finger under his chin. His lover's blue eyes were almost opaque with unshed tears. Smiling at Tom, he told him, "I do want you, Tommy." Harry watched the tears fall from Tom's eyes.
"I don't want out, Harry, ever. I love you, I want to be with you. I think . . . I feel safe with you. Yeah, even after you've put me in this ridiculous outfit." Words seemed to fail Tom as he stepped into Harry's shoulder, sobbing in heartfelt relief that he was still loved. Harry put his arms around his love, and held him close. He patted Tom's shoulder and softly told him over and over how much he loved him. Given Tom's physical condition, the red swollen eyes, Harry was glad he hadn't made an issue of the dress and Tom's neglect before the holiday celebration. Tom was in no shape to be seen by others on the ship, especially by B'Elanna who'd so graciously offered Harry her help.
As Tom's tears subsided, Harry was surprised to feel something pressing against him through the layers of the dress. "Tom?"
Tom's face burned red. His lips formed the words, "Please, Harry. I need this."
Harry thought about the effects of the dress, the insecurities that were so much a part of Tom. But at this point, Harry realized that Tom was asking for an intense lovemaking that would emotionally transcend the outfit. He backed his lover up against the wall so his shoulders were pressed tightly in place. Then he lifted Tom's skirts and put them in his lover's hands to hold the skirts up high so that they uncovered the bare hips of the slender man. Tom's exposed legs in their white stockings were like pale towers of inspiration, and led to an apex that begged for Harry's attention.
After many more deep kisses, Harry propelled the stumbling man over to the nearest piece of furniture, the dining table. Tom's skirts remained up as he fell across the table. Drinking in the enticing sight of his Pilgrim skirted lover, Harry needed no further invitation to enact the love he felt for Tom. Roughly, Harry claimed Tom in urgent, forceful lovemaking.
Much later, Tom moaned and Harry thought he heard him say, "Do it again."
Harry almost laughed. "Sweetheart, I have my limits." He kissed Tom's face gently as Tom remained prone across the table.
As Tom lay there, it felt as if Harry's lovemaking had finally broken down a door, a barrier only partly of flesh and muscle. When Harry had claimed every inch of him as his territory, Tom felt paradoxically at peace amidst the violence. This emptiness now left him bereft and anxious. Tom's body heat should have fused Harry to him, should have prevented Harry's body from leaving his. When he'd asked Harry to do it again, he'd meant it, meant that Harry should break down his doors and claim him as Harry's own, so much so that they could never be apart again.
Harry stood unmoving for a few moments more, understanding that somehow he'd touched more than Tom's flesh. This beautiful lover, laying so still across the table, was all his, all of the time. Harry wished . . . he wasn't sure what he wished. That Tom would indeed always be his?
He shook himself out of his reverie as he realized that something fundamental in their relationship had been cemented tonight. Tom had completely trusted Harry, welcoming him once Harry had gotten him over his initial resistance to the Pilgrim outfit. Tom's wildness and his neediness had been brought together through firmness and pleasure. Tom had come close over these past several weeks to sabotaging their relationship, perhaps Harry could help him beyond such behavior with clear limits on what Harry would tolerate, and consequences when those limits had been exceeded.
Harry reached down a hand to help his lover get up, the skirts rustling down in place. Tom's bonnet had come undone. It, and the wig, remained on the table having mussed Tom's hair into a sandy mass of spikes and damp curls. Smiling broadly at Tom, Harry's eyes warmed the distance between them. Melted love motes danced in the air that separated one warm mouth from another.
Tom grinned back at his strong and sturdy lover, his face lit by the love Harry had provided him. Finally finding his voice, and unable to let any moment go by without some comment, Tom smirked, "So, Harry, when's the next holiday? What do you want me to dress up as? Of course, that's assuming you win the next bet. My luck's bound to change . . . and then you wear a dress." Tom's grin faded as he continued to babble. "But I guess if you win, it'll be some kind of woman's outfit, right? You'll probably try to parade me in front of the whole crew. Think again, Harry. And, Harry, someday we really ought to talk about this fixation of yours of putting me into these kinds of clothes."
"Shut up, Tom," Harry responded with a smile, his lips only millimeters from Tom's, so close their breaths were one. He whispered, "Just be glad that I didn't invite B'Elanna over. She's offered to help, you know. She told me to use a firm hand." At that Tom blanched nicely. Harry added very softly, "Hey, at least I didn't have you dress up as a turkey."
"Thank all the gods for small favors," Tom joked. "A turkey, sheesh."
Harry remained caught up in the idea and murmured, "My very own Thanksgiving Tom."
Their lips touched and the kiss sparked between them, as loving and tender now as their earlier contact had been punishing and raw. Tom pulled away a little at first, an idea forming in his mind.
"There's an old Earth holiday some of my relatives celebrated. It was called Christmas." With a glint in his eyes and a mock serious look, Tom suggested, "I could be an angel."
At that incongruous image, Harry doubled over, laughing so hard that he pulled Tom down with him. He laughed so hard tears flowed from his eyes. He laughed so hard that he couldn't talk. And he laughed so hard that Tom began laughing with him. They rolled together on the floor, the black satin haired ensign and the Pilgrim maiden, until the maiden yelped in pain as his body touched the floor. "Harry!"