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Disclaimer time once again!  Twenty-ninth 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 assumes sex between 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.  :)

Rated 'R' for language.

This is the sequel to 'Adversaries', 'Allies', 'Acknowledgement',
'Argument', 'Advantage', 'Attrition', and 'Awakened'.  <whew>

'Assertiveness' by Amirin


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


It took a while for Tom to see what was going on.  Maybe *too* 
long of a while, but he finally figured it out.  

Things were so wonderful between him and Harry, he just didn't 
really notice most of the time.  And when he did, he thought that 
Harry was just overcompensating for Chakotay's 
possessiveness, deliberately letting him do whatever he wanted 
to, so that he wouldn't feel trapped again.  But, it soon became 
apparent that it was more than that.  

Harry would want to go for a walk one night, Tom would agree, 
suggesting an old movie for the next night.  They'd watch 
movies, *both* nights.  Harry would want to go dancing, Tom 
would suggest a game of pool for another evening.  They'd play 
pool, *both* evenings.  Harry would want Moroccan for dinner, 
Tom was craving Indian.  They'd *both* have Indian.  

Harry seemed to go *way* of his way to accommodate Tom's 
needs, even to the point of trying to anticipate them.  Then, 
when Tom caught on to what Harry was doing and tried to find 
out what his lover wanted, first, that didn't work, either.  The man 
realized what was happening and wouldn't say.  He'd wait for 
Tom to indicate a preference, then run with it.  Even B'Elanna 
noticed and her frown made Tom conscious of the fact that 
something was *very* wrong.  He just wasn't sure what to do 
about it.


                     <<<<<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>


"So, what are you guys doing later?" B'Elanna asked Tom, 
studying the wildly colored vegetables with a slight frown. 
"I'm going to try and see what Harry wants to do," Tom's heavy 
sigh indicated that that course of action hadn't been too 
successful of late.

"Tom, what's going on?" B'Elanna asked quietly, leaning forward 
over her tray to keep their talk as private as she could, given the 
public nature of the mess hall.

Tom ran a hand over his face before leaning his chin on it, 
elbow on the table.  "Damned if I know," he muttered, until he 
saw B'Elanna's concerned expression.  "I thought he was just 
trying to make me realize he wasn't going to be like Chakotay," 
he began, seeing B'Elanna nod in understanding.

She really *did* understand.  She and Chakotay had had a long 
talk about it; B'Elanna'd never realized how his fear of losing 
Tom had made him all but chain the man to him. It was 
something he was working on, finding the causes of the fear that 
led to his jealous, possessive behavior and dealing with them. 
He'd confessed to her that he still had trouble seeing Tom with 
Harry, with anyone, really, but he was trying to work through it. 
The Holodoc's new counseling program was helping somewhat, 
the Doc having had some experience with those feelings, when 
Kes had been with them and his program had gone slightly 
psychotic trying to protect her. It was a hard journey, but one 
Chakotay knew he had to take, or he'd never be able to have a 
healthy relationship with anyone.

Now, B'Elanna could see why Harry would want to make certain 
Tom knew that he wasn't getting into another relationship like 
that one.  But, it appeared to be getting a little out of hand. 

"He seems to want to do whatever I want to and if I can get him 
to tell me what he wants, and I go along with it, he knows that I'd 
rather be doing something else, and badgers me about it until I 
tell him what it is.  And then, we end up doing *that*," Tom 
admitted with agitation.  "B'Elanna, it's gotten to the point that he 
waits for me to show up at his quarters, complains he doesn't 
know what to wear, then puts on whatever I suggest," he told 
her, watching her eyes widen, then narrow in thought.  "He 
yields to my wishes on *everything*," he said significantly, 
hoping she'd get the point and he wouldn't have to say it out 
loud.

"Everything?" she asked, almost growling.

"*Everything*," Tom stated emphatically, flushing miserably.

Torres was silent for a moment. "Have you tried talking to him 
about it?  Telling him how much it bothers you?  Assuming it 
does?" she asked, wanting to make sure.

"Of *course* it bothers me, B'Elanna," Tom nearly snarled at her, 
convincing her that this wasn't a case of wish-fulfillment for him. 
"It's like being with a damned holoprogram, sometimes," he 
groused, shoving his own tray aside, appetite gone.  "There's no 
excitement, no spontaneity, no *fun* anymore.  Whatever I want, 
I get.  Next thing I know, he'll be offering to go through flight 
sims with me on the holodeck," he finished, sharing B'Elanna's 
grimace of distaste at *that* idea.

"Have you noticed him being hesitant, reluctant, about anything? 
Anything you can make an issue of?" she suggested after a 
moment of thought, smiling when Tom's expression grew 
hopeful.

"Yeah, actually," Tom said distantly, remembering, before 
answering her smile with one of his own.  "Thanks, B'Elanna."


                      <<<<<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>


Tom spent the rest of the evening trying to get Harry to do things 
he knew the man liked to do before they got together, but Har 
just looked at him like he was nuts everytime he suggested one 
of them.  Finally, he got Harry to go to his own quarters, under 
the pretext of not having listened to him play his clarinet in ages. 
That, at least, was the truth.  It had been weeks since he'd last 
heard Harry play.  And it hit Tom hard when he realized his lover 
was a little rusty.  

"How long has it been since you've had time to practice?  I 
mean, *really* practice, Har?" he asked quietly, sprawled out on 
the floor at Harry's side.

"A few weeks," Harry tried to shrug it off.

"How many is a 'few weeks'?"

"Six or seven," Harry answered quietly, flexing his fingers.

"That's almost a couple of months," Tom commented carefully, 
cringing inwardly.

"We were busy with the shield project and I just . . I haven't had 
the time . . I mean . . Other things came up," Harry finished, 
looking flustered and upset, not wanting to sound like he was 
blaming Tom for taking up the free time he usually practiced in.

Tom just nodded and reached a hand out to rub Harry's knee. 
"I've missed it, hearing you play," he said softly, letting his lover 
off the hook. "What with the project, and Chakotay, time just got 
away from us, huh?" 

"Yeah," Harry agreed instantly, relieved that Tom didn't seem to 
think it was his fault.

Tom didn't know if he wanted to get into it, tonight.  He didn't 
want to upset Harry any more than the man already was.

"Har?" his soft voice brought Harry's eyes up from the floor. 
"Would you play 'Skylark' for me?"

Harry's smile answered him, as he wet the reed and began to 
play.


                     <<<<<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>


"Well?" B'Elanna asked, seeing Tom looking utterly miserable as 
he toyed with his breakfast, before setting her own tray on the 
table.

Tom just shook his head.

"What happened?" she asked, sliding into the seat across from 
him.

"I couldn't get into it last night, B'Elanna," Tom admitted 
unhappily, holding up a hand to forestall his friend's protest.  "It 
was the first chance Harry's had to play his clarinet in damned 
near two months. He needed to," Tom said quietly as B'Elanna 
nodded, understanding.

"Tonight?" she asked him, sighing as he shrugged.

"Maybe.  I hope so.  I'm planning on it, anyway.  We'll see what 
happens," Tom said, wondering how to maneuver Harry into it, 
without the man catching on and avoiding the confrontation.

"Seduce him out of his socks, then let him have it, both phaser 
banks," B'Elanna suggested, meeting Tom's stunned look with 
studied nonchalance, until he caught the wicked grin in her eyes 
over the rim of her cup and laughed.

"I'll take it under advisement," Tom allowed with light sarcasm, 
as he dug into his breakfast.


                       <<<<<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>


"Did you ask me something?" Harry mumbled into his lover's 
chest.

"Yeah," Tom answered quietly, "about ten minutes ago."

"Sorry," Harry murmured, kissing Tom over his heart.  "It's 
always difficult for me to think after I've been fucked stupid."  He 
looked up, grinning mischievously at Tom's snort of laughter, 
before the merriment in the blue eyes faded abruptly, leaving 
Harry puzzled and a little worried.

"What's wrong?" he asked Tom with some trepidation.  "What 
was it you asked me?" 

Tom took a deep breath, letting it out in a long sigh.  "I asked, 
when were you going to tell me you didn't like being tied up?" 
He kept his hand moving over his lover's back in small, 
reassuring circles as Harry became as still as a statue in his 
arms.  Tom debated letting him off the hook again but this talk 
had been coming for far too long and some things needed to be 
said.

"*You* like it," Harry said in a small voice.

"But, you don't and this is about you, not me," Tom said gently.

"I just want you to be happy," Harry said in one of the most 
miserable voices Tom had ever heard. 

"How can I be happy, if you're not?" Tom asked reasonably.

"I don't want you to think I don't trust you."

"I know you trust me. It has nothing to do with that.  Does it?"

Harry just shrugged, saying nothing for a moment. "Why did you 
keep asking me to let you do it, if you knew I didn't like it?"

"I was hoping you'd say 'no', eventually," Tom surprised him by 
saying, tugging his chin upward a little until their eyes met. 

"You're a hard guy to say 'no' to," Harry tried for levity, but Tom's
expression never changed and he dropped his eyes again.

"Do I make you feel like you *can't*?" Tom voice betrayed the 
distress he was feeling.  To his relief, Harry shook his head.

"No, most of the time, I don't really *want* to," Harry admitted 
quietly, yet obviously not saying everything he needed to say.

"Talk to me," Tom pleaded, seeing that they were getting 
nowhere, here. "Tell me why you always go along with whatever 
I want to do, even if you hate it.  Why you yield to my every 
suggestion: what to have for dinner, where to sleep, what to 
wear, where to go on our off days together, what to do during 
sex?  Why, Harry?"

"It's worth it," Harry whispered softly.  "I've got everything I've 
ever wanted, with you.  You don't *know* how long I've been 
hoping we'd get together.  I just don't want anything to ruin this."

"Harry, are you afraid I'll leave if I don't get my own way?" Tom 
asked gently, but no answer was forthcoming.

"Dammit, Harry, the man I fell in love with had a backbone," Tom 
said harshly, since gently was getting him nowhere. "The Harry 
Kim I knew had a brain and opinions, strong ones, and felt 
passionately about things and he wouldn't act like *this*."  Tom 
paused when he felt Harry withdrawing from him.  

"I love you," he went on quietly, "and I'm not going to walk away 
from you just because we don't agree about some things.  I want 
you to *tell* me when you don't want to do something I want to 
do."

"What if you *want* to do it more than I *don't* want to do it?" 
Harry asked.

"Then, we compromise," his lover replied.  "I'll either go along 
with something I wouldn't usually do, or we do it your way the 
next time it comes up, or we go for something else altogether. 
Harry," Tom said intensely, framing the much-loved face with his 
hands, "this relationship involves the both of us, not just you and 
not just me, *us*.  And if you're miserable, then *so* *am* *I*."

Harry burrowed back into the crook of Tom's shoulder and was 
so quiet for so long, Tom wondered if anything he'd said had 
made an impression.

"Tom."  Barely a whisper, more than a breath.

"Yeah, Har?"

"I don't like being tied up," Harry said hesitantly, relaxing his hold 
on Tom as if expecting the man to get up and leave.  "And I 
don't want to do it any more." 

Tom tightened his embrace around Harry, feeling his eyes 
inexplicably fill with tears.  "Then, we won't," he choked out, 
sighing as Harry's arms came around him firmly, again.  "Thank 
you."

Harry looked up at his lover and smiled a tentative smile. 
"Really?"

Tom just nodded, clearing his throat.  "Really."

Harry's smile became a lot less tentative.  "You want to go to the 
mess hall for dinner?" he asked, testing.

"We could," Tom shrugged, not wanting to, unless Harry really 
wanted to.  "Or we could get something here," he offered.

Harry thought a minute. "Roasted chicken with spiced rice at 
Sandrine's?" he suggested.

"Ohhh," Tom moaned in appreciation, "*much* better idea."

Harry flicked the covers back and started to slide out of the bed 
before turning around to face Tom, who was lying on his side, 
enjoying the sights.

"Shower with me?" Harry asked with a hand outstretched.

Tom took it instantly.  "Love to."


                    <<<<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>>


A few mornings later found B'Elanna sighing as Tom came 
through the door scowling before he met her eyes across the 
mess hall and headed over.

"I thought you worked it out," she exclaimed, seeing the dark 
clouds over his head.  Tom just nodded, leaning back in his 
chair.  "So, what the hell happened this time?"

Tom mumbled something B'Elanna couldn't catch.

"A little louder, Paris, I don't have Tuvok's hearing," she griped.

"*Baseball*," he said disgustedly.  "The most *boring* damned 
sport in the universe."  Seeing B'Elanna didn't understand the 
significance, he elaborated.  "Harry wanted to go to the final 
game of the Cubs/White Sox World Series, 2011, I think.  Three 
hours of lousy food, worse than *Neelix's*, hot sun, and a game 
with the pace of a snail derby," he paused to glare at B'Elanna's 
amused snort, then continued.

"I almost got beaned by the damned ball right before something 
called a 'triple play'.  If Harry didn't have such an incredibly good 
right hand, I'd have been . . what the hell are you laughing at?" 
Tom growled, then realized what he'd said.

"B'Elanna," he whined good-naturedly, then started chuckling, 
himself.

"So, Paris," B'Elanna said after regaining some semblance of 
dignity from the attack of the giggles.  "How's his left?"

And they were both in hysterics, people eying them warily from 
all sides of the room.  Gradually, they calmed down a bit.

"Well, you've discovered you hate baseball," B'Elanna said, like 
that was a good thing.  Tom just nodded.  "And you're going to 
another game, aren't you?" she asked mischievously.

Tom sighed.  "Harry wants to go to the 49er's/Tigers game of 
2023."

B'Elanna's eyes widened.  "Wasn't that during the Great Quake 
of '23?" she asked, with some trepidation.  "The one that leveled 
most of the West Coast?"

"Yeah," Tom admitted.  "Harry went diving through the ruins of 
the stadium when he was at the Academy; he wants to see how 
they ended up underwater."

"And you're going along with it," B'Elanna grimaced in sympathy.

"Yeah, I'm going along with it," Tom said quietly, shaking his 
head as he grinned ruefully.

"Because Harry wants to."

"Yeah."

<pause>

"Nice, isn't it?"

"Yeah."


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