Disclaimer time once again! Twenty-first 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 a relationship between two men, but no sex.  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.  :)

This is the sequel to 'Adversaries', 'Allies', and 'Acknowledgement' 
in the 'A' series.

'Argument' by Amirin


****************************************************

"What, *again*?" Chakotay tried not to grumble; Tom didn't seem to 
find it amusing anymore.

Tom sighed, groaning inwardly at the tone of his lover's voice.  
Gods, he *hated* that particular note of hostility.  He'd honestly 
hoped he'd never have to hear it again, but there it was.

"The modifications are taking longer than we thought," he tried to 
reason, finding himself becoming more than a little annoyed when 
Chakotay turned his back on him. He had to admit, he, himself, 
wasn't all that bothered that the shield variances he'd spent the last 
five days working on with Harry were running over schedule.  They 
had been finding a lot of little things that needed work; Harry had had 
about a thousand ideas they'd been trying out and the Captain had 
been intrigued with their progress, generously giving them as much 
time as they felt they needed.  Granted, his relationship with 
Chakotay had sort of fallen by the wayside over the last few days; 
they'd barely seen each other.  But the night before had been 
*wonderful*, he and Harry with Janeway in the Captain's ready room, 
talking excitedly until the single-digit hours of the morning about what 
they'd accomplished, and everything else Harry had wanted to do, 
since he had Tom to do them with.

Tom grinned inwardly.  Harry hadn't been too happy recently, until 
the two of them had started working together, but the man had 
brightened considerably over the last few days.  It had been *so* 
great working with him again.  They hadn't been this in synch since 
trying to find ways to keep the shuttle from exploding during the warp 
ten experiments.

Now, Chakotay was being such a bear, he really didn't *want* to put 
Harry off, just to soothe his neglected-feeling lover.  He sighed, as 
Chakotay turned back around, facing him again.  The man didn't 
seem to realize that when he went all possessive and 
martyred-acting, the last place Tom wanted to be, was with him. 
Chakotay was beginning to regret bringing Tom's idea about the 
shields to the Captain's attention.  Granted, it *was* important work, 
but he hadn't realized how much it would take his lover away from 
him.  He got to see the man in the mornings, when they woke up, but 
Tom was usually still so tired, he didn't have the energy to do more 
than say 'good morning' before staggering off to the shower to go 
and do it all over again.  He had thought this project was done but 
Tom had just told him, over a typically rushed breakfast, that it would 
be another day, at least, maybe two.

The Commander ran his fingers over his hair, trying not to lose his 
temper, but Tom just didn't seem to understand.  He *missed* him, 
even though they hadn't been together very long at all.  And he was 
jealous of the time the man spent with Harry, even though it was all 
work and little play.  It wasn't like Tom was throwing him over to join 
his friend for pool, or some surfing on Risa, or anything like that. 
This was work, ship's business. So, why the hell did it feel like he 
was losing his lover to the Ensign?

Tom took a deep breath.  "I've got to get going," he said quietly, 
"Harry's waiting for me."

Chakotay nodded, reluctantly.  "Can you join me for dinner?" he 
asked carefully, keeping his voice neutral, he thought.

What Chakotay had tried to make pass for neutral, Tom heard as 
cold.  "We'll be joining the Captain," Tom began, holding up a hand 
to forestall Chakotay's protest.  "It was her idea; she wasn't relishing 
the thought of staying up to 0200 again to get our progress report." 
He sighed, seeing Chakotay turn away from him, once more. He tried 
to hold his tongue, but it was impossible.

"*Dammit* Chakotay, I'm *not* doing this on purpose, you know," he 
ground out, as the Commander spun back around at the anger 
evident in his voice.

"I'm just supposed to take your word for that, am I?" Chakotay bit off,
before thinking.

Tom looked stunned, before his temper kicked into warp and ran 
away with his mouth.  "What the *fuck* is *that* supposed to mean?" 
he raged angrily.

"The damned shields were supposed to take a day or two, not *five*,"
Chakotay shot back.  "How do I know this isn't just your way of 
getting to spend some quality time with Harry?" 

"*Harry*?" Tom exclaimed in disbelief.  "Are you out of your *mind*?"

Chakotay didn't even *try* to stop and think.  He just ran with it. 
"Yeah, *Harry*," he ground out, moving forward to invade Tom's 
space.  It sounded sensible to him, as much as anything *could* in 
his current state, so he went on, brain and mouth not even 
*remotely* connected, at this point.

"You're 'working' eighteen hours a day with him, *alone*, in close 
quarters, and barely giving *me* the time of day," Chakotay barked 
into Tom's face. "Every time you get to the point where this whole 
'project' *might* be reaching a conclusion sometime in the next *light 
year*, he comes up with a few ways to *guarantee* you'll be 
spending another day or two together. ."

Tom interrupted, running angry hands through his hair.  "You are out 
of your *fucking* mind, Chakotay!" he yelled back into the 
Commander's face, hands clenching helplessly into fists. "Shit, *half* 
the ideas have been *mine* . ."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?!?" Chakotay shouted back.  "Hell, 
I've seen the way he looks at you, the way you look at *each other*, 
when you think no one's paying any attention . . where the *hell* are 
you going?" he found himself yelling at Tom's back, as the man 
turned and headed for the door.

"I am through having this *discussion*, *Commander*," Tom shot 
over his shoulder, "I've got *work* to do.  Harry and I will be alone *all 
day* in the array.  I'm sure we'll have plenty of time to fuck each 
other senseless!"

And with that, Tom was out the door, leaving Chakotay fuming 
helplessly.  *Dammit*, what the hell had just happened?  He threw 
himself down onto the couch, trying to get his heartrate and breathing 
under control.  Leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees, he 
dropped his face into his hands.  Hell.  He hadn't meant it, *any* of it. 
Rubbing his forehead with his fingers, he noticed they were still 
quivering from the . . fight?  He snorted.  There was no other word 
for it, no euphemism could begin to come close to what had 
happened here, this morning.  He groaned as his mind replayed 
Tom's parting shot.  He didn't *really* think Tom and Harry had 
anything between them, other than friendship.  So, why the *hell* had 
he intimated, hell, *accused*, Tom otherwise?  Looking at the 
chronometer, he saw that he had minutes to get to the bridge before 
he was late for duty.  And he *had* to apologize in person, not over 
the comm system.  Tonight, he'd apologize tonight.  Maybe a 
backrub, a little TLC, and Tom would forgive him.  He hoped. 

Tom, at the moment, was leaning against the wall in the turbolift, 
banging his head on the bulkhead.  Stupid, stupid, stupid.  Shit, when 
was he *ever* going to find brakes for his goddamned mouth? Guilt 
was mixing heavily with anger and he growled into the quiet, small 
space.  Replaying Chakotay's words, he snorted.  He and Harry. 
*Right*.  And what *looks* were they giving each other, when no one 
was paying attention?  Harry didn't think of him that way, Chakotay 
was having *serious* delusions.  Okay, granted, Harry had been 
enjoying the hell out of himself these last few days, so had Tom 
been.  His best friend was fucking *brilliant*, all right?  And his 
excitement and delight at what they were doing were contagious as 
hell. But, that didn't mean . .

His thoughts ended abruptly as the doors opened and he stepped 
out, agitation easing as soon as he saw Harry already at work on a 
console.  The doors wooshed shut behind him and Harry glanced 
up, his easy, warm grin fading into a frown.  "Tom?" he asked, rising 
from his seat to approach his friend.  "What's wrong?"

Tom shook his head, trying to smile and relieve Harry's concern.  It 
wasn't working.  "Nothing," he sighed.  It really *was* nothing. 
Really.  He and Chakotay would work it out, later.  Probably.

Harry just arched an eyebrow at Tom, waiting for the man's need to 
talk to override his need to pretend everything was fine and tell him 
what had happened.

Tom sighed, recognizing Harry's 'I'm waiting' look.  "Chakotay and I 
had a fight, this morning," he confessed quietly, "A *major* blow-out."

"About what?" Harry asked, all helpful concern, feeling badly for Tom 
while guiltily kind of glad.

"About *us*," Tom said, wryly, indicating the two of them.

Harry nearly choked.  "*Us*?" he whispered, panicking for no 
apparent reason, trying to keep his reaction off his face.

"Chakotay seems to think the reason all this," and here he gestured 
around the room they'd been working in for the last five days, "is 
taking so long, is because we're deliberately coming up with more 
and more excuses to keep working together.  Because we want to 
*be* together," he finished, meaningfully.

"He thinks we're having an *affair*?" Harry choked out.  "Gods, Tom, 
how the *hell* could he think that of you, is he *nuts*?" he bit off, 
finding himself angry at Chakotay's lack of trust, on Tom's behalf.

Tom couldn't help but grin a little at Harry's righteous indignation.  "It
was said in anger," Tom tried to be fair, but Harry cut him off.

"It doesn't matter, there are things that should *never* be said, even 
*in* anger; it's part of the rules of fair fighting," Harry said, his own 
anger coloring his words.

"'The Rules of Fair Fighting'?", Tom parroted back, leaning against 
the console, arms crossed over his chest, as Harry explained.

"To keep a relationship healthy, and the lines of communication 
open, there are certain things you *never* use as a verbal weapon 
against your lover, just to feed the anger that's fueling the fight. It's 
unfair, it's unhealthy, and it does nothing to facilitate open, honest, 
*loving* communication.  Fights are ways to resolve conflicts, 
reestablish a dialogue, get the problems into the open.  It's not 
supposed to be combat," Harry told him. "I watched my parents do it 
for years, until I asked why they never seemed to have the *huge* 
verbal battles a lot of my friends' folks had.  They told me about the 
rules of fair fighting, that they had set up when they became serious 
about each other.  It's all about how to fight *without* hurting the one 
you're *supposed* to love," Harry took a breath.  "And accusing a 
partner of infidelity is a *huge* no-no."

"Well," Tom drawled, intrigued as well as amused, "Chakotay didn't 
actually say we were *having* an affair, just that we wanted to, which 
is why we were allegedly *creating* work for ourselves.  To spend 
more time together," he finished quietly, wondering why Harry was 
blushing.  He frowned and went on.  "He said he'd seen the way you 
look at me," he paused, seeing Harry flush darker before he 
continued.  "And the way we look at each other, when we don't think 
anyone is paying attention," he finished softly, as Harry's eyes darted 
to meet his, before tearing away.

"What did you say?" Harry whispered, not able to meet Tom's eyes.

Tom sighed.  "What I said didn't help matters any," he stopped, as 
Harry looked at him, an indescribable expression clouding his 
features.  "I said that we'd be alone here all day and would have 
plenty of time to fuck each other senseless."  Silence reigned and 
Tom looked at Harry, *really* looked.  He pushed away from the 
console and walked slowly over to where Harry was standing, arms 
wrapped around himself, holding on for dear life.

"Harry?" the soft query floated to the Ensign, but he flinched as 
though Tom had struck him. A gentle hand came to rest on his 
shoulder and he tried to move away, but Tom wouldn't let him go.

"Don't," Harry pleaded quietly, when Tom's hand took hold of his 
chin, tilting pain-filled brown eyes up to meet startled blue ones.

"Gods, he was *right*, wasn't he?" Tom asked, voice shocked to a 
near-whisper.  "Chakotay was right.  You've been . . all this time . .?" 
he trailed off, when his friend backed away.  

Harry snorted, running his fingers over his face before he started 
pacing in the too-small room.  "Gods, your ego is unbelievable," he 
ranted around clenched teeth.  "I surprised there's room for anything 
else in the quadrant, with all the space it takes up.  Must thrive in the 
vacuum," he stopped suddenly, feeling Tom's presence behind him 
right before his friend's hands covered his shoulders, lightly.

"And which rule did you just break?" Tom asked him, treading 
carefully, not letting him move away.  He felt like someone had 
kicked him when Harry's chin dropped to his chest and the man 
shuddered under his touch.  Tom closed his eyes, feeling Harry's 
breath hitch, before he pulled his friend back against his chest and 
leaned his own chin on a shaking shoulder.  

Harry struggled half-heartedly, wishing the deck would just open up 
and swallow him. "I'm sorry," slipped past his lips.  Gods, he felt like 
the words were woefully inadequate, to encompass all the things he 
knew he had to apologize for. 

Tom turned him around.  "Don't be," he said softly.  "Harry, I never 
thought . . I mean, I hadn't considered . . oh, shit, I don't know what I 
mean," Tom finished lamely, grinning at Harry's snort.  "I'm still so 
damned angry at Chakotay . ."

"Why?" Harry asked reasonably.  "He was right.  About me, anyway," 
he finished miserably, running his hands over his face, calming 
himself, until Tom grasped his wrists, moving them away so Tom 
could see him. He tried to step back, but his friend wasn't letting him 
go.  "Tom?," he asked hesitantly, his own eyes widening when 
Tom's grew darker, the other man's fingers caressing his wrists. 
"Don't do this," he whispered, as Tom's hand released one of his 
wrists to cradle his cheek.  "I don't want to do anything we'll both 
regret," he tried to protest, seeing Tom's eyes focus on his mouth. 
"Tom," he found himself murmuring, his eyes closing briefly as his 
friend's thumb followed his lower lip.  "Please," expelled on a soft 
breath as his hands found their way to Tom's chest and he felt the 
heartbeat thundering wildly beneath them.  "Oh, Tom," as his friend 
moved closer, and he exhaled into a soft moan.  "Harry," Tom 
breathed, almost against the man's lips, when a chirping caught his 
attention.  "Paris here," he tried to say in a normal tone of voice, 
cursing himself when it came out slightly breathless.

"Mr. Paris?" the Captain's voice inquired.  "Is everything all right?"

"Yes, Captain," Tom answered, his voice stronger, "just a little 
distracted," he finished, smiling softly at Harry, who looked faintly 
disturbed.

"Captain, we'll be running the diagnostics as soon as we finish 
checking the frequencies," Harry managed to sound chipper and 
enthusiastic, even with his eyes half-shut, his lips parted and his 
breathing rapid.  "Everything looks fine, down here."

<More than fine> Tom thought.

"Acknowledged, Harry," Janeway answered.  "I'll leave you both to it; 
I know you've got a lot of work to do.  I must say, I'm looking forward 
to seeing the results," and with that, the comm link was off.

"We'd better get to work," Harry tried to speak with conviction, as he 
moved around Tom.

"Yeah," Tom said dazedly, his thoughts swirling like an M-7 nebula. 
He shook himself into some semblance of awareness and joined 
Harry, taking the seat next to him at the console.

Back on the bridge, Chakotay was frowning slightly.  Tom's voice 
had sounded odd, like his first 'good morning' of the day, after 
Chakotay had kissed him awake.  Kind of out of it, faintly aroused, 
vaguely amused.  He shook his head.  Tom and Harry had probably 
had their heads together over something technical and fascinating, 
that's all.  He grinned quietly, looking forward to apologizing to Tom 
later.  And he was *definitely* looking forward to the making up, 
afterwards.

Several hours had passed in the small room and Tom and Harry 
were no closer to talking about what had happened, what had 
*almost* happened.  They were carefully polite with one another, 
studiously professional, and detached.  It was driving them both 
crazy.  Finally, they had reached a point where all they had to do was 
wait for the system to finish catching itself up on the modifications 
and they'd be done for day. 

Tom looked at Harry out of the corner of his eye and saw the man 
trying to not get caught looking at *him*.  He spun his chair around, 
pinning Harry neatly with his gaze and watched the man flush, then 
shift uncomfortably in his seat.

"I'm sorry," Tom said quietly.  "I wasn't trying to be a tease, Harry . . "
he trailed off as Harry waved his apology aside with an almost angry 
movement of his hand.

"I know that," Harry tried not to snap, but it wasn't easy.  "You 
were . . curious? . . Maybe? . ." his own voice faded out as Tom 
shook his head.

"Not exactly," Tom admitted.  "Yes," he sighed, "I was wondering 
what it would be like.  But you looked so upset, I just couldn't stand 
it," he paused when Harry glared at him.  "You were going to kiss me 
because you felt *sorry* for me?" Harry demanded softly, his tone 
dark and deadly.

"I wanted to make you feel better," Tom started, then changed tacks 
when it didn't seem to make Harry any happier.  "I just wanted you to 
be . . okay, again.  Happy.  All right with . . me," Tom tried to make 
Harry understand.  "I don't want this to change anything.  I don't want 
you to start avoiding me, being uneasy around me. I couldn't take 
that, Har," he finished, not sure if his friend got the point or not.

"This is going to change things, there's no help for it," Harry sighed, 
looking slightly less angry, but no less miserable.  "I just don't want 
*you* to feel uncomfortable around *me*, that's all," he met Tom's 
look and saw nothing but the familiar, easy smile on the man's face. 
He couldn't help but return it.

Tom felt a huge weight lifted off his chest when Harry grinned back 
at him, before he frowned, remembering something.

"What is it?" Harry asked warily.

"All that time I was going on about Chakotay, bending your ear about 
us," he said softly, with a faint horror clouding his features.  "And you 
never said a word.  I just went on and on, in *excruciating* detail," he 
started beating himself up about it, before Harry cut him off.

"Will you quit it?  Like I planned on saying anything?  Like I *could*? 
Shit, Tom," he groused, getting up out of his seat to pace in 
agitation.  "What would you have expected me to do?" he asked 
plaintively.

"*Tell* me!" Tom stated emphatically, surging out of his own seat to 
follow Harry.  "Dammit, all that time, I was carving your heart out with 
a fork and you never said a *word*?  And what the *hell* is so 
damned funny?" he asked, getting a little angry at seeing Harry 
chuckling helplessly.

"'Carving my heart out with a fork'?" Harry repeated, before laughing 
again.  "Gods, you know how to turn a phrase," he commented, 
seeing Tom snort, before his friend joined him, the shared laughter 
clearing the air, somewhat.  Tom slugged his shoulder in semi-
playful frustration and Harry sobered a little, smile still softening the 
look he gave Tom.  "I couldn't say anything and you know it," he 
offered quietly.  "I wasn't about to confuse you, distract you, or try 
and tempt you into doing anything about how *I* feel. I'm happy for 
you, I really am.  And I hope you and Chakotay can repair whatever 
damage was done to your relationship.  And if you need me to hold 
him down, while you pound some sense into him, hey, I'm your man," 
he joked.  Mostly joked, anyway.

Tom rested his hands on Harry's forearms and Harry grasped his. 
"You're my friend," Tom said softly.

"Always," Harry answered back with quiet sincerity, before the 
computer chirped its readiness to get back to work, forcing them to 
join it.


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