Author's note:
AAAGH! I am so very sorry that it's taken this long to post this chapter. At first I had a little writer's block, and then other stuff started happening in my life that, unfortunately, I could not ignore. Anyway, here it is now. Many many thanks to Lily, ticklemepunk and SummerRaven for reviewing chapter 3! =^) You guys are the best… all of you who've reviewed so far, I mean it, I love you guys! =^) SummerRaven, I have read Mosaic, and loved it too. Thanks for the recommendation anyway, though! And to anyone who hasn't read either Pathways or Mosaic, go out right now and visit your library! They're highly entertaining, and add a whole new dimension to the show when you're watching it. There, that's my "plug o' the week".
Another thing: I've been wondering whether I should make this fic longish, like 30 chapters, and involved and complex plotwise, or if I should just go the short-and-sweet route, and finish it off after like six chapters. Let me know what you think when you review, or feel free to email me: doxsey33@hotmail.com Thanks!
Now, you all know the drill, POV separated by *~*~*~*~*. And let's continue on with Tom for the time being. 'Kay? =^)
Disclaimer: Call me crazy, but I am really starting to believe that, honest to god, I am still not the president of Paramount.
*~*~*~*~*
I strode down the hallway toward Harry's quarters, mentally steeling myself for the leap of faith I was about to take. At least I was pretty sure he wouldn't hate me, even if he wasn't interested. But oh, gods, how I prayed he would be.
*~*~*~*~*
I paced the floor of my room, torn between following Tom to the mess hall (which seemed the logical place for him to go, since we hadn't gotten around to eating), or just going to bed. I was so tired – but I couldn't stand the thought of just letting it go, and having to see him awkwardly first thing in the morning.
I checked the chronometer, and was startled to see that it was nearly 2200 hours. How had it gotten so late? Had I been agonizing about the situation for that long? I was sure it had been no later than 1900 hours when Tom left. I sighed. He probably wouldn't even be in the mess hall anymore. I had missed my chance… No! I was not going to accept defeat, not by something as trivial as a clock. This was more important than observing etiquette: late or not, I was going to resolve this. I'd made up my mind; I was going to go to his quarters if he wasn't in the mess hall. Sure, it was late. But Tom would just have to deal with it. And I had a feeling he'd be awake, anyway.
Resolutely, I marched to my door, planning what I'd say when I got to Tom's quarters. The door slid open, and I was so intent on my rehearsal that I walked right into the person who had been just about to ring the chime.
Tom.
He caught me by the arms, saving me from tripping over him. "Easy there, buddy! Slow down!" he exclaimed. His grip softened as he added, "Can we talk a little? I just--"
I interrupted him. "Actually, Tom… I was on my way to see you." I glanced down the hall. "It's late, I don't want to disturb my neighbors. Will you come in?"
"Of course," he murmured. As he let go of me, his hands trailed down my arms, making me shiver. 'Oh, Tom. Why'd you do that, it only makes things worse,' I thought wretchedly. 'How am I going to make it through this?'
He was already speaking as the door closed behind us. "Look, Harry, I know I was a little abrupt earlier. I didn't mean to be angry with you. If something's bothering you, and you want to keep it to yourself, who am I to argue? I mean, I don't want to make you feel any worse about it, whatever it is…" He looked away and paused for a moment before continuing. "Besides… I have something I need to tell you. I just hope it won't affect our friendship… I… Having you as a friend means a lot to me, Harry, and I don't want to lose that." He looked at me. The battle between hope and despair played out silently in his blue eyes: the eyes of the man I loved. Hope – hope of what? What the hell was he trying to say? Dared I dream that he might be feeling the very same doubt and desire that I was? I suddenly realized that he was waiting for me to respond before he would say anything else. I searched for words that would encourage him, without giving myself away too soon. Good manners came to the rescue.
"Uh, Tom, have a seat, would you like something to drink? I mean, you haven't had anything for dinner, have you?" I asked. At least the role of good host was a comfortable one. But I resolved not to hide behind it: I *was* going to tell him how I felt; this wasn't going to turn into a nice, safe little chat about nothing. But God, I was terrified.
He lowered himself onto my couch. "Well," he grinned (how much more beautiful could he get?), "I *did* have some delicious leola root stew in the mess hall. But I suppose some spinach and pear juice would be nice, thanks." I replicated it for him and handed him the glass. His fingers brushed mine as he took it, and my heart leapt as our eyes met for a single, fleeting moment. He stared at me, then shook his head as if to rid himself of a useless thought. "Harry," he began – but I cut him off.
"Listen, Tom. There's something I have to say to you too, and I'd feel better if you'd just let me say it." I paused to check his reaction: he was regarding me with something between disbelief and delight. I took a deep breath and spoke. "You're my best friend. I don't want to lose that. But you deserve to know this: I… have feelings for you that go beyond friendship." There. I'd said it. Relief washed over me, and I felt a little dizzy, but definitely better.
He was still staring at me. Was it a good thing, or a bad thing, that he looked so incredulous? "Tom? Aren't you going to say something?" This didn't look like it was going too well. I hoped he would at least let me down easy.
But he didn't say a word. He stood up – and took my hand. Oh, my.
"Harry… I wish you'd let me finish what I came here to say." His voice was low and soft: it gave me chills. And did he have to hold my hands like that? So gently, as if he feared they would break at his touch. His thumbs traced little wandering circles over the back of each hand… how could he expect me to concentrate at all? I tried to refocus my full attention on what he was saying. " I came here tonight because I have been trying to find a way to tell you this for a long, long time. Nothing matters more to me than you, Harry…" He dropped his gaze from my face to my hands, lifting them to chest level. Then he spoke again, so softly that I could barely hear him.
"I love you."
For a moment, I was unable to comprehend. Then he lifted my hand to his mouth and began to kiss my fingers, softly, longingly. That broke the confusion.
Tom loved me.
Tom loved me, nothing else could ever matter. I withdrew my hands from the embrace he held them in, and reached up to touch his face. "Tom, why didn't you tell me before now?" I whispered. Tears were filling my eyes, but I didn't care. I wanted him to know how much this meant to me.
"I -- I didn't know how you'd react, I couldn't bear to… lose you, if you didn't want… Harry, please don't cry, it will be okay," he murmured, and pulled me into his arms.
We stood there in each other's arms for a moment, while I summoned up the courage to say what I needed to tell him. "Tom, I love you too," I mumbled against his shirt. I don't know why it took so much to tell him, especially after he's just said the same thing to me, but it did. And he heard me.
He pulled away from me, just enough to look at me. His face was so close to mine, I felt his breath across my lips as he spoke. "You don't know how long I've wanted to hear you say that… and how long I've wanted to do this."
For one glorious, everlasting moment, the only thing in the entire universe that mattered were Tom's lips on mine. Slowly I responded, opening my mouth, letting him enter. It was completion, the homecoming of the other half of my soul.
Eventually, it ended. Tom gazed at me, smiling, his beautiful eyes filled with love. I said the only thing I could think of:
"Computer, dim the lights."
"Time for bed, Harry?" Tom's voice had regained a bit of the mischief that had been missing for so long.
"Absolutely," I replied, a grin coming unbidden to my lips.
"Well then, I should go," he teased.
"Oh, no you don't." I took his hands. "Tom. Stay."
He regarded me, still smiling. "Of course I will, Harry. But remember…"
"What?"
"We *do* have the early shift tomorrow…"
Well, we were going to be late.
*~*
There, it's chapter 4! I hope you all feel like it was worth the wait. =^) All I ask is, tell me! And please, like I said up there in the author's note: let me know how long you want this to go on. Forever is NOT an option… hehe. But I'm willing to go for a while yet, depending on what YOU, the illustrious reader/reviewer, tells me! 'Your vote counts' and all that crizzap… Well that's all, it's late, I'm goin' to bed, hope you all loved it! I'll try and get chapter 5 up in a much timelier fashion.
Ta!
*~*
AAAGH! I am so very sorry that it's taken this long to post this chapter. At first I had a little writer's block, and then other stuff started happening in my life that, unfortunately, I could not ignore. Anyway, here it is now. Many many thanks to Lily, ticklemepunk and SummerRaven for reviewing chapter 3! =^) You guys are the best… all of you who've reviewed so far, I mean it, I love you guys! =^) SummerRaven, I have read Mosaic, and loved it too. Thanks for the recommendation anyway, though! And to anyone who hasn't read either Pathways or Mosaic, go out right now and visit your library! They're highly entertaining, and add a whole new dimension to the show when you're watching it. There, that's my "plug o' the week".
Another thing: I've been wondering whether I should make this fic longish, like 30 chapters, and involved and complex plotwise, or if I should just go the short-and-sweet route, and finish it off after like six chapters. Let me know what you think when you review, or feel free to email me: doxsey33@hotmail.com Thanks!
Now, you all know the drill, POV separated by *~*~*~*~*. And let's continue on with Tom for the time being. 'Kay? =^)
Disclaimer: Call me crazy, but I am really starting to believe that, honest to god, I am still not the president of Paramount.
*~*~*~*~*
I strode down the hallway toward Harry's quarters, mentally steeling myself for the leap of faith I was about to take. At least I was pretty sure he wouldn't hate me, even if he wasn't interested. But oh, gods, how I prayed he would be.
*~*~*~*~*
I paced the floor of my room, torn between following Tom to the mess hall (which seemed the logical place for him to go, since we hadn't gotten around to eating), or just going to bed. I was so tired – but I couldn't stand the thought of just letting it go, and having to see him awkwardly first thing in the morning.
I checked the chronometer, and was startled to see that it was nearly 2200 hours. How had it gotten so late? Had I been agonizing about the situation for that long? I was sure it had been no later than 1900 hours when Tom left. I sighed. He probably wouldn't even be in the mess hall anymore. I had missed my chance… No! I was not going to accept defeat, not by something as trivial as a clock. This was more important than observing etiquette: late or not, I was going to resolve this. I'd made up my mind; I was going to go to his quarters if he wasn't in the mess hall. Sure, it was late. But Tom would just have to deal with it. And I had a feeling he'd be awake, anyway.
Resolutely, I marched to my door, planning what I'd say when I got to Tom's quarters. The door slid open, and I was so intent on my rehearsal that I walked right into the person who had been just about to ring the chime.
Tom.
He caught me by the arms, saving me from tripping over him. "Easy there, buddy! Slow down!" he exclaimed. His grip softened as he added, "Can we talk a little? I just--"
I interrupted him. "Actually, Tom… I was on my way to see you." I glanced down the hall. "It's late, I don't want to disturb my neighbors. Will you come in?"
"Of course," he murmured. As he let go of me, his hands trailed down my arms, making me shiver. 'Oh, Tom. Why'd you do that, it only makes things worse,' I thought wretchedly. 'How am I going to make it through this?'
He was already speaking as the door closed behind us. "Look, Harry, I know I was a little abrupt earlier. I didn't mean to be angry with you. If something's bothering you, and you want to keep it to yourself, who am I to argue? I mean, I don't want to make you feel any worse about it, whatever it is…" He looked away and paused for a moment before continuing. "Besides… I have something I need to tell you. I just hope it won't affect our friendship… I… Having you as a friend means a lot to me, Harry, and I don't want to lose that." He looked at me. The battle between hope and despair played out silently in his blue eyes: the eyes of the man I loved. Hope – hope of what? What the hell was he trying to say? Dared I dream that he might be feeling the very same doubt and desire that I was? I suddenly realized that he was waiting for me to respond before he would say anything else. I searched for words that would encourage him, without giving myself away too soon. Good manners came to the rescue.
"Uh, Tom, have a seat, would you like something to drink? I mean, you haven't had anything for dinner, have you?" I asked. At least the role of good host was a comfortable one. But I resolved not to hide behind it: I *was* going to tell him how I felt; this wasn't going to turn into a nice, safe little chat about nothing. But God, I was terrified.
He lowered himself onto my couch. "Well," he grinned (how much more beautiful could he get?), "I *did* have some delicious leola root stew in the mess hall. But I suppose some spinach and pear juice would be nice, thanks." I replicated it for him and handed him the glass. His fingers brushed mine as he took it, and my heart leapt as our eyes met for a single, fleeting moment. He stared at me, then shook his head as if to rid himself of a useless thought. "Harry," he began – but I cut him off.
"Listen, Tom. There's something I have to say to you too, and I'd feel better if you'd just let me say it." I paused to check his reaction: he was regarding me with something between disbelief and delight. I took a deep breath and spoke. "You're my best friend. I don't want to lose that. But you deserve to know this: I… have feelings for you that go beyond friendship." There. I'd said it. Relief washed over me, and I felt a little dizzy, but definitely better.
He was still staring at me. Was it a good thing, or a bad thing, that he looked so incredulous? "Tom? Aren't you going to say something?" This didn't look like it was going too well. I hoped he would at least let me down easy.
But he didn't say a word. He stood up – and took my hand. Oh, my.
"Harry… I wish you'd let me finish what I came here to say." His voice was low and soft: it gave me chills. And did he have to hold my hands like that? So gently, as if he feared they would break at his touch. His thumbs traced little wandering circles over the back of each hand… how could he expect me to concentrate at all? I tried to refocus my full attention on what he was saying. " I came here tonight because I have been trying to find a way to tell you this for a long, long time. Nothing matters more to me than you, Harry…" He dropped his gaze from my face to my hands, lifting them to chest level. Then he spoke again, so softly that I could barely hear him.
"I love you."
For a moment, I was unable to comprehend. Then he lifted my hand to his mouth and began to kiss my fingers, softly, longingly. That broke the confusion.
Tom loved me.
Tom loved me, nothing else could ever matter. I withdrew my hands from the embrace he held them in, and reached up to touch his face. "Tom, why didn't you tell me before now?" I whispered. Tears were filling my eyes, but I didn't care. I wanted him to know how much this meant to me.
"I -- I didn't know how you'd react, I couldn't bear to… lose you, if you didn't want… Harry, please don't cry, it will be okay," he murmured, and pulled me into his arms.
We stood there in each other's arms for a moment, while I summoned up the courage to say what I needed to tell him. "Tom, I love you too," I mumbled against his shirt. I don't know why it took so much to tell him, especially after he's just said the same thing to me, but it did. And he heard me.
He pulled away from me, just enough to look at me. His face was so close to mine, I felt his breath across my lips as he spoke. "You don't know how long I've wanted to hear you say that… and how long I've wanted to do this."
For one glorious, everlasting moment, the only thing in the entire universe that mattered were Tom's lips on mine. Slowly I responded, opening my mouth, letting him enter. It was completion, the homecoming of the other half of my soul.
Eventually, it ended. Tom gazed at me, smiling, his beautiful eyes filled with love. I said the only thing I could think of:
"Computer, dim the lights."
"Time for bed, Harry?" Tom's voice had regained a bit of the mischief that had been missing for so long.
"Absolutely," I replied, a grin coming unbidden to my lips.
"Well then, I should go," he teased.
"Oh, no you don't." I took his hands. "Tom. Stay."
He regarded me, still smiling. "Of course I will, Harry. But remember…"
"What?"
"We *do* have the early shift tomorrow…"
Well, we were going to be late.
*~*
There, it's chapter 4! I hope you all feel like it was worth the wait. =^) All I ask is, tell me! And please, like I said up there in the author's note: let me know how long you want this to go on. Forever is NOT an option… hehe. But I'm willing to go for a while yet, depending on what YOU, the illustrious reader/reviewer, tells me! 'Your vote counts' and all that crizzap… Well that's all, it's late, I'm goin' to bed, hope you all loved it! I'll try and get chapter 5 up in a much timelier fashion.
Ta!
*~*