Intimacy: 30th March 2365
AN: A big thank you to those who read, fav'ed and reviewed. I'm so glad there is still a readership out there. Also, does anyone know if there are other sites to post?
"You clean up alright," Tom's breath caught as he took in the sight before him.
Something made the compliment that would normally roll off his tongue like teflon stick in his throat. He knew Torres wouldn't appreciate being told she looked beautiful. An instant wariness clouded her eyes, as if she couldn't, or more likely wouldn't accept the admiration as her due, as the truth. Yet that red dress accentuated her colouring. The skirt skimmed her knees showing just enough leg to be enticing, the capped sleeve covered her to the elbow and the neck line proved to be just the other side of modest. It was demure, feminine and dam sexy at the same time, demonstrating just enough and leaving the rest to Tom Paris's very active imagination.
"But," she almost growled, feeling his hesitancy as he casually lent against the doorway of the personal hygiene area. B'Elanna knew this dress looked good on her and brought out her athletic figure honed by hours of decathlon training. What she couldn't understand was the expression of confusion when he should feel attraction at the very least. Her Klingon half was impressed by Tom's ability to resist her overtures, while her human side hurt because he didn't appreciate the effort she'd made.
"It's going to be cool down by the wharf when the wind comes in," he explained easily, allowing an appreciative grin to cover his lips. "I didn't think you enjoyed the cooler climates."
"What makes you think that," B'Elanna challenged. Once again her anger surfaced, making her defiant and provoking the man standing before her. Somewhere in all this posturing, she knew the Klingon side agreed with his assessment, which caused a shiver of desire to lodge in the pit of her stomachs. He was being honourable, a perfect human gentleman. A Klingon male would be reading poetry. Somewhere in her mind, it equated to the same.
"The way you held your hands under your armpits on the way from the administration building," Paris couldn't contain the burst of sudden laughter at her expression of complete skepticism. Obviously Torres expected a very different answer."Beside's, it rains almost half the days in March, so you're going to need a water proof if we're caught out in the open."
"Why would we be in the open," she questioned, bewildered by his attitude and practicality. This really wasn't going as B'Elanna expected, he wasn't behaving in the way she'd been lead to believe human males acted when faced with a Klingon woman secreting pheromones.
"Because," Tom drew out the word as he moved toward the replicator, "Fisherman's Wharf is meant for walking, taking in the scenery and enjoying atmosphere. Beside, the best place to watch the sunset is from the Maritime National Historical Park."
"Like that explains everything," B'Elanna muttered under her breath.
"In your two years at the academy, you sure didn't get out much," Paris's blue eyes pieced her exterior to really look at the young woman below. What he saw softened his approach. She wasn't anything like the women he usually dated. They'd been around the block a time or two and knew the score. A date, a great night of consensual sex and then a I'll call you when I'm back in port which will probably be never. This, well, girl was equal parts hostility, insecurity, hurt and sexy as hell.
And she's off limits to the likes of you, Paris. Tom berated himself. Just take her out for a great night, show her your town, let her take the bed while you sleep on that short and uncomfortable looking couch. In the morning, you can speak with some people and see what you can do about her future. It's as plain as the that very Klingon nose on her face she has no where to go, no one to turn to and little in the way of prospects. Right now she needs a friend and that's exactly what you're going to be. You're going to show her a great time and keep your libido firmly in your pants, Paris.
"What are you thinking," B'Elanna became intrigued by the rapid expressions crossing his face. It seemed he'd been fighting an internal war and finally came to a conclusion.
"I grew up around here, it was impossible not to with Starfleet Headquarters located in San Fransisco," Tom started, wondering why he chose to bring up his mostly unhappy childhood, "and my father's promotion to Admiral when I turned six."
"You took your father's survival class," she asked, shocked.
"Let's just say I didn't have a choice. Dear old dad made sure of that," he almost spat. Not wanting to speak of his family and spoil the atmosphere, Tom eyed Torres figure and guessed her size. Picking out a pattern and colour that would suit her dress, he ordered a medium weight rain jacket and umbrella. "Here," he handed her the items, returning his attention to the replicator and generating a lighter and much lager size for himself. "I'd say we're ready to go. If we don't leave soon, we'll miss the sunset and I've been waiting for a long time."
"Why?" The question came out before B'Elanna could filter it. Yet she really wanted to know how this most complicated man thought.
"Tradition," Tom smirked, then in one of his rapid changes of mood, he sighed. "It was something mom and I use to do when I was a kid. Dad was away, a lot. My sister's are ten years older, so they were busy with boyfriends or their studies."
"It was just the two of you," B'Elanna spoke quietly when Tom became lost in his memories.
Smirking, he directed her towards the door, closed it and started down the hallway before speaking again. "It seemed that way sometimes. Then dad would come home and the girls would beam over from the Academy with their man of the week and it would be all happy families again. For a while at least."
Torres let him remember and watched his reactions to the memories. She could almost see the changing emotions, displayed so subtlety in his eyes. Tom guided her into the lift, out onto the Academy grounds and through the front entrance without once touching her. Thankful for the jacket, she immediately put it on which drew a pleased smile from her companion.
"Cold," he asked mockingly, those eyes glistening with uninhibited delight.
"Where did you go," B'Elanna couldn't help the question accompanying her puzzled expression. "Just now, you were lost to the world around you."
"It's been a long time since I've been in San Fransisco," Tom commented easily, yet he couldn't slip back into that brash, overconfident personality he usually wore when someone tried to get to close. He knew only the truth would do in this situation, that Torres would know if he covered up his painful past. "I guess its bringing up more memories than I want to recall."
"Going home can do that," she whispered uncomfortably.
"Ever taken the Tranz-Fran," Tom changed the subject with a sudden grin. Somehow he knew Torres didn't want to think about her life before the Academy or discuss her history either. He just knew it was as painful for her as it was for him.
Shaking her head, B'Elanna knew tonight would mark a lot of firsts. Heading east, they found an entrance to the subway system. Tom didn't even stop to look at the holographic map. He knew exactly were he was going and directed them towards the platform with a happy smile at her wide eyed expression. Within a few minutes they were ensconced on a high speed mega-grav train headed towards the west coast.
"Just take it all in, Torres," he lent close and whispered into her ear as they sped along the underground tract. "This is the real San Fransisco, the world outside Starfleet."
People filled the car, getting on and off at each station. Their dress was eclectic, their conversation mundane and their lives lived in a monotony of normality. Tom's breath, so close to her ear, and the warmth of his body increased her Klingon senses. Yet Tom Paris didn't leer at her, or use his height to tower over her. He kept a respectful distance and seemed amused by her responce to everything and everyone.
He really doesn't know what he's doing to me, B'Elanna thought, trying to keep her reactions internalised.
They popped up at a station on Hyde Street near the outskirts of Russian Hill. Tom began to explain the history of the area and point out the amazing view over the waterfront. Much to B'Elanna surprise, she enjoyed listening to the lesson in his deep voice, filled with excitement and humour. On occasion she asked questions which were answered immediately. Until Tom directed her across the road but stopped suddenly in the centre of the old fashioned pavement.
"What," she demanded after a few moments standing in the middle of the street on a slightly raised platform, "are we waiting for."
"Patience, Torres," Tom grinned like a kid offered something extremely enticing. "Use that intelligence of your's and listen."
Then she heard it. The ringing of a bell. Over the top of the hill came a, well, B'Elanna didn't quite know what it was.
"Twentieth century at it's best. It's called a tram and we're going to take it down the hill to the park. When we get there, we'll cop a squat and watch the sun go down," he explained with that lop sided grin, his body vibrating with excitement.
"I'm not even going to try to understand half of what you just said," B'Elanna shook her head in amusement.
Following Tom onto the tram, they sat side by side. He'd allowed her to take the seat closest to the window, leaning over her shoulder and continuing her history lesson as they descended towards the water. Listening to his voice, surrounded by his smell and body heat, B'Elanna couldn't remember another time she'd felt so safe and respected. Turning, their foreheads were mere centimetres apart, it wouldn't take much to lean in and kiss him. That's when she noticed the dark blue shirt and how it enhanced the amazing colour in his sparkling eyes.
"You don't scrub up so bad yourself, Lieutenant," B'Elanna whispered, sending her hearts into a rapid beat and that feeling in the pit of her stomachs to increase tenfold.
He laughed, whole heartedly. "It took you long enough to notice, Torres," Tom teased. "Come on, this is our stop. We'll walk from here."
They were in time to see the sun begin it's decent into the western sky. Taking its time as they sat in companionable silence on a bench, the orb finally hit the watery horizon. The colours in the sky changed, turning darker in the east but displaying an amazing assortment of pink, yellow and orange as the ball of fiery gas finally bade the world goodnight.
"There's nothing like watching a sunset over the water," Tom sighed. Standing abruptly, he went to reach for B'Elanna's hand. Remembering his earlier self-imposed promise, he held it only long enough to help her upright. "Feel like walking for a while?"
She nodded, not willing to say anything lest she break the moment. For just an instant B'Elanna was sure Tom meant to hold her hand. Watching other young couples, they seemed unselfconscious in their affection for each other. Many strolled along, holding each other in more intimate embraces. Without thinking, she brushed against his arm, feeling the fission of attraction arrowing to her chest. Glancing up at him to gage his reaction, Tom looked startled. It caused B'Elanna to giggle.
"What," he looked bewildered.
"I'm nineteen years of age, Tom," B'Elanna couldn't help the smile. "I'm hardly a child that needs protection, or for you to act like my parent. I'm here because I want to be."
Nodding, he really looked at B'Elanna. She might be tiny by Klingon standards and feel petite against his tall frame, but she wasn't a child. Still, he didn't want to break his self appointed task of showing her a good time, when it was obvious she was missing out on all those normal activities he'd experienced by the same age. Suddenly Lt. Thomas Paris felt every one of his twenty four years.
"I know," he stated evenly. Then with a sigh of frustration, Tom Paris closed his eyes and muttered, "believe me, I know." Paris could feel the woman at his side bristling, so he opened his lids and watched her carefully as he deliver his own ultimatum. "If the situation were different, I might even take up what you're offering, Torres. Tonight, you need a friend more than a hotshot pilot who's been cooped up on a starship for six months without shore leave. No," he put a finger on her lips before she answered. Tom could see the righteous anger gathering in her chocolate orbs. "I'm not going to be just another male who wants to take advantage of you and you're just going to have to live with that."
"Why," B'Elanna demanded, shocking with her next words, "do you keep calling me Torres?"
That caused Tom to laugh, hard and long. "Because if I think of you as Torres, I'll be able to keep my mind on being your friend."
Sighing, he took her small hand in his. It looked so delicate and exotically dark against his larger, pale flesh. A concession, Lt. Paris knew, but he'd double his efforts to be on guard for the rest of the evening. I am not going to allow further intimacy between us, his mind affirmed, and prove every belief B'Elanna has about human males. I'm better than that and she deserves a hell of a lot more respect.
They walked around in silence for a half hour, neither willing to break into their personal introspections. As the park disappeared behind them and the streets became more crowed with tourists, Tom was glad he had grabbed B'Elanna's hand. They were in danger of being separated.
"Is it always this busy?" B'Elanna asked, looking around in wonderment.
"Yes," Tom grinned. "Every person that comes to San Fransisco has to visit the Wharf district. It's an institution. Some of these buildings have been here for centuries. They even survived the great quake and numerous wars."
"What's this?" B'Elanna pointed to a quaint restaurant with hinged doors, planter boxes and shutters in brightly coloured wood.
"The Buena Vista," Tom smiled. "It opened in 1916 and has been here ever since. It's an icon. When I was finally able to consume alcohol legally, Mom brought me here for my first drink. Come on, you have to try the Irish Coffee, I don't think I've tasted better anywhere in the galaxy. The foods not bad either, but we might not get a table."
Stepping into the rustic restaurant, noise greeted the young couple. A convivial atmosphere poured out of the dining room, filled to capacity with happily chatting customers. People were waiting at the bar, serviced by a real bartender. Before them, a line of four or five parties waited for an opening, proving the eateries popularity.
"Tom," a striking blond approached from the head of the line. "I didn't know you were in port."
"Kathy," Paris nodded his head at the woman. He'd been blindsided, busy watching Torres reaction to the unique experience.
"Aren't you going to introduce me to your…" she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm while her eyes stated the girl was far to young.
Not waisting words, Tom offered, "B'Elanna, Kathy Johnston."
"Lt. Commander Kathy Johnston," she corrected, holding out her hand. "Chief Medical Officer on Archer."
"Please to meet you, Ma'am," B'Elanna initial reaction was tempered anger. Tom was hers only she'd not taken the time to mark him. Then she looked between the pair and noticed the similarities. Obviously they were related but there was little love lost between them.
"Are you an Ensign serving with Tom," the woman hunted. Then her eyes narrowed, "or a cadet. Really, Tom, I expect better from you. What will Dad say when he finds out?"
"Dad knows I'm in town," Tom hissed, "he and mom were at my promotion ceremony today."
"Really, full Lieutenant. It's taken you long enough," the blond smirked.
"We can't all have your good luck," he return ironically.
"I spoke with mother just the other day," Kathy levelled a quelling glance at the young man, "when we met for lunch. She didn't tell me you had leave. Then again, I can see why you're not all that interested in going home. I hope you're not going to try and your shirk responsibilities on his furrow."
"No, Ma'am," Tom grinned but the humour didn't reach his eyes.
"Good, it's about time you and dad sat down and actually talked," the woman glared. "Don and I are leaving next week when Archer get out of spacedoc. Elizabeth's home from Vulcan and finally engaged to Gerrick. Their wedding is set for next year when they'll return to live on Earth. Steph's finishing up her maternity leave. She's managed a posting to Galaxy so she can take the kids and her husband. She's a full Commander and the first officer. This must be the first time in three or four years the entire Paris clan is together. Mom will want to have a big, old fashioned family dinner."
"I hardly need to go home," Tom's expression became bland, "since you've filled me in on all the important details. I see Captain Johnston signalling. It looks like your party is ready to go through, Kathy."
"Mum misses you," the blond threw over her shoulder. The look stated he'd better not disappoint the matriarch of the family, or he'd have her to deal with.
"And I though my family were dysfunctional," B'Elanna rolled her eyes. When he didn't answer immediately, Torres muttered under her breath, "I always wanted a sibling, but if that's the result, I'm happy to remain an only child."
"Let's just say, all my sister's take after Dad," Tom answered, his tone hurt and those ever expressive eyes once again dulled by the confrontation.
"Where as you take after you mother," B'Elanna offered, understanding so much about this man from the confrontation. "Come on, we can find somewhere else to eat."
"I'm not going to let my sister and brother-in-law chase me away," the tone changed to determination.
"Well she scares hell out of me," B'Elanna offered, "and I've only just been introduced."
"Torres, I doubt anything would scare the hell out of you," Tom finally found his humour.
"You'd be surprised, Lieutenant," she offered in a soft tone. "Most day's it took effort just to survive the academy."
"Come on," he grabbed her elbow, cutting through the crowd behind them. "I know a great place close to the pier. Do you like seafood?"
"As long as it's not crawling across the plate or looking at me," she teased. "Maybe later we can come back for one of those famous Irish Coffee's this place is renowned for."
"You're on, Torres," Tom chuckled. "Only your going to have to lie about your age."
AN: This night's not over for a intrepid couple. I hope you're still enjoying.