Combination of two challenges, both Mona's.  All her fault. Totally.   5.  Chakotay's broken up with *someone* (never happens to him, always to Tom), and he turns to Tommy for comfort . . . only it's not their first time.  What will Tom do? 6.  The One-Hour Challenge.  Write a story in one hour (or less).  Think it can't be done?  Ha.  It can be a drabble, a poem, an epic (if you can type really, *really* fast), whatever. Start and finish times on the piece, spell- and beta- and grammar-checking not included in the time limit. Time began: 1:28pm Time ended: 2:23pm Box-mate?  I'm goin' through the list...   ****************************************** Disclaimer time once again!  One-hundred-and-eleventh verse same as the first . . . everybody *sing*: I don't own these characters, (chorus) Paramount does! I don't own this venue, (chorus) Paramount does! I am making no money off of this, (chorus) Paramount does not either! This story involves relationships between three sets of two men, aka: slash.  If that is *not* your cup of tea, sweet as it is, then don't read it!  (simple, ain't it??) Feedback is *very* much appreciated, and always answered. Flames will be passed around to friends and chuckled over.  :) 'Stay' by Amirin ****************************************** Tom staggered wearily to the door, cursing his early, *way* early, too *fucking* early, morning visitor.  The doors slid open to reveal... "Chakotay," he murmured, taking in the man's bloodshot eyes, the rumpled clothing, and the desolate expression in one probing glance.  "What happened?" he asked tiredly, standing aside to let the man enter his quarters. "Harry and I broke up," Chakotay choked out, shaking hands dragging through mussed hair for the umpteenth time. "Again?" Tom queried with gentle sarcasm, but the emerging grin was wiped from his face at the look on the commander's. "This time, it's permanent," Chakotay muttered, not blaming Tom in the slightest for not believing him. "I finally caught him with Seven." "What the hell do you mean 'finally'?" Tom ground out, seeing Chakotay sink into his couch like he didn't plan on ever coming back out again. "I've been hearing rumors for weeks, now," the older man informed him with a painful quietness. "They were *true*?" Tom glared, mentally going through how many ways there were to kill, maim, and mutilate his former best friend. "Yeah, all true.  Spirits, I feel like hell." "You look it," Tom commiserated.  "Shit, I'm sorry.  Really, Commander." "Spare me, okay?" Chakotay chastened him gently.  "I didn't come here to be the Commander.  I came to bitch about my ex-lover." Tom snorted and waved a generous hand at Chakotay. "Bitch away."  He was strangely pleased when the remark earned him a half-chuckle. "Dammit, *why*?" Chakotay asked him. "Because Harry's a slut," Tom said darkly, expression softening when Chakotay winced. "You think I've got no call to talk, don't you?  I'm just getting a taste of my own back, right?  For what we did to you?" Chakotay confronted him, only to be brought up short at the lack of anger in Tom's clear eyes.  All he saw was sympathy. And sadness. "I'd never wish this on anyone, Chakotay.  I swear it." "Not even me, huh?"  Chakotay's voice was heavy with bitterness and Tom sighed. "Okay, look.  I'm not saying it didn't hurt when I found out about you and Harry.  It did.  Hell, yes, it did.  It hurt a lot. But, you and I became friends, oddly enough.  Again.  For the first time in years we were able to talk to each other without pissing one another off.  We're closer, now, than we have been since we were together, Chakotay.  I *can't* regret that. And I don't.  I regret what *Harry* did, but not where it lead." The commander was silent for a moment, then he brought his head up.  "It hurts." Tom was sitting next to him before the man could draw another breath.  "I know.  And I'm sorry.  And if you want me to hold him still while you pound the crap out of him, I'll be more than glad to, okay?" Chakotay snorted and found himself laughing, as Tom's arm came around his shoulders.  "How do you *do* this?  I came here because the airlock was starting to look good and you've got me laughing." Tom shrugged modestly.  "It's a gift," he shot back flippantly and joined Chakotay in laughter. They sat quietly, Tom unknowingly rubbing the commander's back, Chakotay unknowingly rubbing the pilot's leg.  Minutes passed in companionable silence until Chakotay sighed. "It's late.  I should go." "You don't have to leave," Tom shook his head, leaning back, legs crossed at the ankles.  "I've missed this." "Me crying on your shoulder?" Chakotay asked with a half-grin. "No," Tom slugged him gently.  "Just being with you.  I've missed you. Idiot." "Jerk," Chakotay said fondly. "Moron." "Asshole." "Gods, we were good together." "I knew my calling you an 'asshole' would get you thinking about sex." "Which is why you did it, Chakotay.  Come off it.  This is *me*, remember? I *know* you.  Goober." "Prick." Tom snorted.  "Shit, you are so predictable." Chakotay gaped at him. "*I'm* predictable?!?" "Yeah, you, Chief." "I've missed that, too." "What, the nickname?" "Yeah," Chakotay whispered.  "Sky-Eyes." Tom swallowed heavily in silence, long-forgotten emotion stirring into wakefulness within him. "Dammit.  I'm sorry," Chakotay murmured, misreading both the look on Tom's face as well as the reason his eyes closed. "Don't be," Tom sighed.  "We both know what's happening, here." "This isn't why I came here," Chakotay protested, but had the grace to look abashed when Tom challenged him with a silently raised eyebrow.  "Yes, I want you, all right?  Still, yes. Probably always, yes.  But, I came to find out . . . how long it was going to hurt. How long am I going to feel like shit?  Feel like hurting him back?  That's all.  Honest." "It hurt me until the night I found you in Sandrine's after you'd had that huge fight with Har.  I didn't think anyone used that program anymore.  I was about to leave.  You saw me. I stayed.  We talked.  And got a little drunk.  And bitched about Harry.  It was a great evening." Chakotay smiled just a bit.  "That's your idea of a great evening?" "I'd missed you, more than you will *ever* know," Tom said, his head rolling on the back of the couch toward Chakotay. "I *hated* Harry.  And it was a lousy place to be in.  What you did to me felt like an accident; I knew you didn't set out to destroy me. What he did felt deliberate.  He knew I was happy, happier than I could remember being in a very long time.  And he decided to take you from me.  And he did." "We've never talked about this," Chakotay murmured, brushing his hand over Tom's.  He didn't want to see the tears in the man's eyes, but he could hear them in his voice. "I don't know, even now, how it happened.  Or why." Tom nodded and cleared his throat.  "I know.  And it's okay. And I didn't *want* to talk about it, before." Chakotay turned his head to look at him. "And now?" Tom shrugged.  "Now, I don't really need to.  You're the one hurting, Chakotay.  *You* talk." "I can't help feeling like justice has been served, to some extent," Chakotay began after a moment's quiet thought. "Maybe you didn't want this to happen, but that doesn't mean I don't deserve it."  Tom's head fell against his shoulder and he reached out, holding the back of the man's neck, stroking gently.  It was habit, old habit. And things came back to him, filtered through his own grief at a relationship's end, other old habits. Tom's small movement forward drew him out of his nostalgic reverie and he grinned at the man. "Will you stay?" Tom asked simply. Chakotay sighed quietly.  "You're more forgiving than I would be." "Part of my charm," Tom retorted with a smile which grew larger as Chakotay leaned in to kiss him softly. "A second chance?" he queried, voice almost a whisper. "I'm a firm believer in second chances, Chief," Tom reminded him wryly. "Then, yes . . . I'll stay, Sky-Eyes.  I'll stay." ********************end