Disclaimer: No tengo!
A/N: Sequel to Thinking.
This man is my friend; no one touches him!
Groaning, Tom rolled over, dragging his protesting body from his comfortable bed. Once upright, the blonde pilot made his way to his living area and leaned against the bulkhead. After stuffing themselves full of steak, potatoes, pie, drinks, and fudge ripple pudding, Harry had crashed on Tom's couch, fatigue finally catching up with the young man. Tom had covered him with a blanket before collapsing in his own bed.
He'd been dozing for a few hours before the dreams started. Most were just flashbacks, reliving some of his 'visit' to the Akritirian prison. Not the best shore leave, but it certainly had given them some interesting stories to tell. As the night had progressed, the dreams became increasingly unpleasant, mostly consisting of the time before Harry had shown up. Strange that any of his time there could be thought of as pleasant, but for that brief moment after Harry had slid out of the Shoot, before reason had caught up with him, Tom had been overjoyed to see his friend. At least he wasn't dead.
As the dreams progressed, something odd began to happen. When the dream became almost unbearable, Harry appeared, anger blazing in his dark eyes, swinging their now-damaged pipe at anyone who came near them.
This man is my friend; no one touches him!
Tom sighed as he watched his troubled friend sleep. "How can he think I'd be mad at him?" True, Harry had snapped, once, but between the Clamp, Tom's attitude, and the other prisoners, was it really any surprise? It would really be rather hypocritical to be mad at Harry for nearly killing him when Tom himself had gotten them into trouble as well
Pushing off from the bulkhead, the pilot moved quietly to kneel beside his young friend. A frown creased Harry's forehead, like any child caught in the throws of a nightmare. Carefully, Tom reached forward and brushed dark bangs back from pale skin, smiling as Harry's face relaxed into a peaceful sleep. Tom gently continued to brush his friend's forehead, his mind wondering back nearly a year to when he'd made his Transwarp flight. Shivering, Tom thought about the days following. Everyone on the ship had been trying to help his and he'd blown up at more than one of them. And Harry; he'd yelled at Harry. He'd been out of his mind from the evolutionary process and the doctor's treatments, but he'd still questioned the best thing he had.
"I'm sorry," whispered the blonde, tears pooling, unwanted, in his blue eyes. "I'm sorry I yelled, and there isn't any excuse for what I said. I am…so very glad…that you're my friend, Harry."
Quietly, Tom stood and pulled the blanket back up to Harry's chin, just as his father never had for him. That wasn't how admirals raised their sons. Harry murmured something indistinguishable and rolled over, a hand snaking out to grip the cloth covering him lightly. Smiling, Tom turned and trotted back to his own bed. This time, the pilot slept peacefully, free from any dreams at all.
fin