Disclaimer: Chakotay and Paris, as well as Captain Proton, belong to Paramount Pictures. This story is not written for profit.

Author: Ki.

Fandom: ST: VOY.

Pairing: Chakotay/Paris. (Proton/Sidekick, Paris/Agent, Paris/Kim)

Categories: humor/parody/spoof, holodeck fun!

Warning(s): none. Just silly stuff. 

Archive: Please ask me first. 

Summary: what happens to Tom and Chakotay when they step into the strange and wonderful world of conventions?

Rating: PG-13.

Title: Proton Con.

*** *** ***

"Are you sure you want to do this?" 

Chakotay, Commander of the starship Voyager, had the tone of a man who was just about to jump off a plane. His blonde-haired companion only gave a snort and punched his arm playfully. Tom Paris, ace pilot, was feeling more euphoric than his older, more cautious partner who gazed at the grey doors of the Holodeck with a mournful expression.

"C'mon. We have to try this out!" Tom gave his Paris grin and jabbed a few times at the panel. The doors slid open with an audible hiss. 

With reluctance pulling at his limbs, Chakotay stepped into the Holodeck. The red grids pulsed around him. Tom was literally hopping with glee. Damn, Chakotay mused cynically, I'm getting old. 

"Computer, initiate HarryKim ProtonC. delta323," Tom said carefully. The response was immediate, thanks to the miracles of 24th-century technology. The grids were instantly replaced by blue skies and a tall building with a lot of windows. There were people milling about at the entrance. They were mostly women and a couple of men. 

"Holiday Inn!" was what Tom had said, before he practically ran up the stairs. Chakotay followed more sedately, belatedly realizing that he was wearing a dark suit...and sunglasses. Surprised, he gazed at his feet and they were apparently wearing shoes, glossy with black polish. 

He found Tom talking to a woman wearing a smart red blazer. She was holding a clipboard. Chakotay glanced at Tom and saw that the younger man was dressed in a white T-shirt and black pants. 

"HelloIamJanelle," the woman rattled off. Tom frowned, trying to catch hold of the words. 

"Uh," Chakotay said. The woman smiled like a cat, her lips bright with lipstick.

"WelcometotheHolidayInn," IamJanelle continued blithely. "Yourluggageiswiththebellboy. Gotothereceptiondeskforyourkeycards. MrThomasPariswillhavetheexecutivesuite."

"What?" Tom blinked, rubbing his temples. A headache hovered dangerously around the fringe of his consciousness. <Damn, my aching head…>

The woman rolled her eyes. She was getting impatient, but the trained PR in her was still calmly, coolly soldiering on. She repeated what she had said, albeit in a slower fashion. After fifteen minutes, Chakotay managed to decipher most of the gibberish. According to Janelle, Tom was given one of the hotel's best suites. They were here for the "Proton Con". He, himself, was Tom's agent. 

Bravo, Harry, bravo.

"Here'sthekeycardstothesuites," Janelle chatted on, ushering them to the reception desk. "Ifyouwantanyhelpjustcallme."

Tom had the distinct look of someone hit on the head with a mallet. He snatched the keycards, dragged Chakotay away from Janelle and headed for the lifts.

*** *** ***

The suite was large. There was a spacious living room, accompanied with a kitchen and a bathroom with the biggest hot tub the two men had ever seen. It could easily sit an entire baseball team, plus their coach and the two physiotherapists attached to the team. The bathroom was well stocked with white fluffy towels and an impressive array of toiletries. 

Tom closed the door and leaned on it, sighing tiredly. He was starting to get a feel of what was in store for him and Chakotay. The bellboy actually asked for his autograph! The teenager's eyes were luminous with idol worship as he backed away reverentially, almost knocking into the Ming vase. 

"Have you seen the kitchen?" Chakotay walked out from the living room. "They have everything here!" He lifted up a bottle of champagne. 

Tom shook his head in wonder. He inspected the bedroom, satisfied to see a huge king-sized bed, covered with soft satin. There was the sound of someone clearing his throat. Chakotay stood beside him, rubbing his face. Tom was amused to find a sizable bulge in the man's pants and leaned over, his lips lightly brushing the sensitive neck. 

"We have roughly two hours and 45 mins left," he whispered, feeling Chakotay shudder. "Let's...make use of the hot-tub..." He caressed the older man's face with a hopeful smile.

They chuckled, easing the tension. Tom removed his T-shirt and dumped it onto the bed. He grinned wolfishly at Chakotay.

"You need some help with that Italian hitman ensemble of yours..."

There was a slightly annoyed look on Chakotay's handsome face. He shrugged off the suit and placed it gently on the cloths-rack. He also took off the sunglasses and felt immensely better doing that. 

"Come here, baby," he growled... <Italian hitman ensemble? I will show you…>

*** *** ***

They massaged each other and made slow tender love. Chakotay opened up the champagne bottle and poured the sparkling fluid into two tall glasses. Sated and warm with post-coital joy, they sat together, sipping the champagne. Room service was prompt and Tom gorged himself on the fresh oysters and caviar. Chakotay nibbled on the lettuce foccacia.

"If this is star treatment..." Tom leaned back against the pillow and sighed with contentment. He burped indelicately, gazing wistfully at the empty oyster shells nestled amongst the leafy garnish. They looked so forlorn with the used lemon wedges. 

"Star treatment," Chakotay said and glanced at the chronometer. "Damn, look at the time. You have to go for the main convention event."

"Yikes!" Tom put down his glass and leapt off the bed, hurrying to the bathroom. 

Chakotay admired the disappearing bare buttocks, finished his champagne and decided to join his lover in the shower.

<They can wait…>

*** *** ***

Things were in full swing when they came out of the lift. The sounds of laughter and conversation reached their ears. There were women wearing "Captain Proton Forever" T-shirts. A man walked past Chakotay, looking exactly like Tom in his Captain Proton guise. The Native American blinked in disbelief as two more Captain Protons strode past him, engaged in intense debate. A couple of Queen Arachnias lounged near the café area, their eyes heavily kohled and cheeks heavily powdered.

Tom was already knee-deep in autograph-seekers. Chakotay caught frantic blue eyes before the group of women completely overwhelmed the young pilot. 

Janelle, the PR representative, appeared miraculously, shooed the women away and shepherded Tom into a corner. Chakotay, feeling a tad isolated, walked around, looking at the tables laden with Captain Proton merchandise. Caps, mugs, satchels, small plastic ray guns and T-shirts all bore Tom's face. Glossy photographs were laid out for sale as well; Chakotay felt a little disconcerted seeing Kathryn Janeway as Queen Arachnia, all decked in her fiendish garb. Smaller pictures, with Tom and Harry both posing for some invisible camera, were quickly grabbed by the buyers. 

Turning to his right, Chakotay saw more items, including a 12 inch action figure of Tom as Captain Proton. The doll had Tom's features, right down to the blue eyes. It was weird, Chakotay concluded. Very weird. He tossed a worried look at Tom; he was still talking to Janelle. Oh well. More exploring to do.

He wandered into a smaller hotel room. 

Women, wearing T-shirts with "Give me more Proton", were chatting and gesticulating excitedly. Right next to them was a table full of books. Chakotay looked closely. Not really books, but magazines, with colorful illustrations for covers. They were produced with evident loving care. He picked one up idly and flipped through the pages. 

There was a naked man staring back at him. No, wait. There were two. 

Tom and Harry. <Eep!>

Chakotay's eyes watered and he almost dropped the magazine as if it had scalded him. Not that the art was bad. It was good. Very realistic kind of good. But the image of Tom bending over Harry seemed to have burnt straight into his retinas. He didn't know how he would respond. 

His brains filtered and sifted through his thoughts, methodically. Well, Harry looked happy. Tom looked happy too. Sure, he had that grimace of pain on his face, but he always assured his lover that he was enjoying it. Wait, hang on a sec ...

Should he wring Harry's neck? 

Mmm. It was a good idea. 

Piecing together the last shreds of courage, he swallowed convulsively and chose a random page to read:

"Captain Proton gently laid his young trusting sidekick down onto the soft mattress. He peeled off the black shirt, revealing a smooth chest. He stroked it lovingly, lowering his head so that he could lick the skin..."

Something screeched in Chakotay's mind. He slammed the magazine shut. The women turned to face him with expressions alternating from shock to surprise. One of them separated from the group and walked towards him. She was of indeterminate age, her eyes gleaming with inner amusement. She had a T-shirt with Captain Proton/Tom in ... bondage gear. Chakotay gulped nervously. It seemed that he had stepped into something well and truly surreal. Something like 'Twilight Zone', just more bizarre than it. 

"I trust you have seen our con issue of 'The Sidekick's Journal'," she said, her voice velvety, like nice bourbon. 

"I think so," Chakotay said and put the magazine down. The Sidekick's Journal?


"Have you ever read slash fiction?" The woman asked, watching intently for his response.

Chakotay shook his head and hurried out of the room. Tom was waiting for him, arms folded across his chest. Janelle was nowhere to be found. <Slash fiction? Who cares?!>

"Where have you been?" Tom demanded with his blue eyes flashing.

"Somewhere..." The Native American answered, feeling a little bit numbed. This holo-program was beginning to freak him out. It was too real, too in-your-face real. To make things worse, he couldn't get the image of Tom and Harry (or Captain Proton and his Sidekick) out of his mind!

"C'mon, the guest-of-honor panel is gonna start soon," Tom placed his arm on Chakotay's arm and pulled the man in the direction of the ballroom with the banner 'Proton Con', emblazoned across the top of the door. Janelle stood in front of the entrance, all bushy-tailed efficiency. 

"It'stime," she said, rapid-fire. She tugged open the door.

*** *** ***

It was definitely odd. But it was a good sort of odd. He had never been so covered with adulation and worship...until now. Pairs of eyes stared, watched and remained glued on him. At first, he was sheepish and nervous, almost knocking over the glass of water he was given. Chakotay sat beside him silently. 

The MC introduced Tom as the talented young actor who filled the shoes of Captain Proton perfectly. The man handed over the mike and Tom could only stare at it as if it was a poisonous object. He took it gingerly and smiled his Paris smile, instantly turning the women into puddles of gibbering goo.

"Uh...hello," he said and a few flashlights popped, almost blinding him. "I am honored to be here at the Holiday Inn...Err, it has been fun acting in "Captain Proton"..."

Everyone applauded and whistled as Tom returned to his chair, the tips of his ears a rich red. 

"Any questions?" The MC smiled a megawatt smile. There was a moment of silence before a couple of hands were raised timidly. "Yes, you in the red Captain Proton jersey..."

The person in the red jersey, a bespectacled boy about sixteen, stood up. He had a nasal voice. "Can you discuss about the Proton hand-gun 2000? I know that in episode 44, you used the proto-type of the hand-gun and in episode 50, you used a new gun. Yet" -- he wiped his spectacles -- "in episode 60, you used back the old one again..." His speech delivered, the boy sat down with an air of self-superiority.

Tom lifted his eyebrow. The question had gone past his head like Voyager in warp nine. Chakotay's eyes were almost bulging.

"You have to blame the props department," Tom joked and grinned. "I am sure that the guys in props do it on purpose..."

Half of the audience laughed. 

"Next question," the blonde-haired 'star' gestured, still smiling. 

"Mr Paris," a woman's voice was heard. "Where's Mr Kim?"

"Due to filming schedules, he couldn't make it," Chakotay intervened swiftly. Tom took a sip of water and steepled his hands on the table. He noticed that there was a plate of watercress sandwiches and took one. Sniffed it and bit into it. 

Another woman got up from her seat at the back of the ballroom. "Can you talk about the 'kissing' scene in 'Where the Gods weep'?" The general audience groaned good-naturedly. A group of women sat up straight, their attention focussed on Tom. 

Kissing scene? Tom almost choked on the water cress sandwich and had to be given water. Chakotay pounded repeatedly on his back. Tom recomposed himself.

"That was actually part of the script. There was a gender switch. The soul of Lady Farnsworth was actually in Sidekick's body."

The woman didn't look satisfied with the answer though. "I read on the 'Net that Harry Kim enjoyed the kissing..."

"Err, we had fun on the set…" Tom knew that his reply was as insipid as overnight beer. Chakotay glared at him.

Harry Kim is going to die a horrible death, they thought. A horrible horrible death that entails a lot of hanging, quartering and the airlock. 

"Don't believe the 'Net news," Tom shook his head. You have to give the kid credit though, for his sense of creativity, he mused to himself. 

There was murmuring amongst the audience. 

"But the 'Net is so informative!" Someone quipped plaintively.

"Have you been to Tantamount's official Net site?" Another teenager, this time pimply and gawky, asked. He wiped at his dripping nose. 

"Err, I don't go to the Net often," Tom replied and looked at the plate of sandwiches. The watercress suddenly looked very tasty.

"Mmm..." The teenager frowned and rummaged through his pile of Captain Proton merchandise. "I am sure I have the url somewhere..."

"Err, thanks kid," Tom quickly cut in. "That's alright." 

The MC swooped in just then and Chakotay was relieved. "Any more questions? Mr Paris had a tiring flight. I am sure you are all kind enough to let him rest..." 

The autographing session was next. Tom sat behind a cloth-covered table, signing glossy photographs of himself and the pictures of 'The Proton Crew'. He posed for pictures, smiled at the fans and signed more photographs. By the end of the whole thing, his wrist throbbed hellishly as if a Klingon had used it for martial arts practise, and he was in dire need of a cold beer. 

"Tired?" Chakotay's voice whispered in his ear. 

"Yeah," Tom managed to say, before he was asked to smile at the millionth camera. 

"Poor thing," the Native American said softly. 

"Yeah right..." <A tall frosty glass of icy cold beer, with foam spilling from the top…>

"You can have the water cress sandwiches..."

"Shaddup, Chak... Harry owes us a decent dinner..." Tom growled. He smiled brightly as a pair of girls took his picture. They had "I love Captain Proton" on their black T-shirts. 

At last, the whole session ended and the audience drifted back to their seats. The wide screen at the end of the ballroom showed excerpts of Captain Proton/Tom running about with his hand-gun. Scattered applause was heard and people settled down to watch. 

Chakotay pressed his hands onto his cheeks. There were too many unsettling incidents already.

"HelloMrChakotay," Janelle peered in."Doyouneedhelp?"

"Will you please shut up?" Chakotay snapped at her and escorted Tom out to the main foyer of the hotel. 

Janelle snapped her mouth shut, her expression one of shock and indignation. Her lower lip quivered.

"Tom, we are definitely getting out of here," Chakotay announced aloud. Tom nodded.

"Heywaitup! Howaboutyourluggage?" Janelle's inner PR had apparently overwritten her silence. 

"Send it to Mr Paris's residence," Chakotay said. Women were walking out from the ballroom. With a grin, he grabbed Tom and planted a bruising kiss on Tom's lips. His lover froze for a few seconds before melting in his arms and responding eagerly. 

When they had done kissing, everyone was staring unabashedly. A few women scribbled frantically into their notepads.

"Ciao, people," Tom waved cheerfully. "Merci!"

They strode out of the hotel. 

"Computer, deactivate the program," Chakotay ordered and the blue sky disappeared, replaced by the red grids. He was glad that he was still wearing his command-red uniform. <No more hitman ensemble…no more agent person…no more…>

Tom looked a little disappointed.

"Just when I was beginning to enjoy being a star..." He grumbled, missing the taste of the watercress sandwiches and the oysters. Not to mention the suite with the huge hot tub. 

"Look, one ensign is going to owe us a dinner. I know that you want your medium rare steak. I will have my favorite mushroom soup. So, don't complain, tiger..."

The Holodeck doors slid open. Normality flowed past them. They were back, in sane space. They began walking towards the turbolift. Chakotay thought for a moment before turning to Tom: "Have you heard about slash fiction?"