"Are you sure?" (Paris/Torres, Kim)

Author's Note: This story is set sometime during Season 4.

/

"Sooo," Harry drawled in his best imitation of Tom, "How's it going with you and B'Elanna?"

After three years of being teased about his romantic misadventures, he was looking forward to returning the favour. Tom's face, however, did not seem to invite teasing. Instead of a smug grin or a sappy smile, he looked up from the holodeck control panel with a thoughtful frown on his face.

"It's going great," he said, shrugging. "Mostly. It's just … "

"Just what?" asked Harry.

"I'm starting to think … maybe she's not as serious about this as I am, you know? It's no big deal. Hey, how's this for Chaotica's dungeon?"

Tom pressed a button, and the holodeck grid melted into a pitch-dark tunnel. On either side of them, rows of spiky metal bars and crackling force fields - lightning shields, Harry corrected himself with a smile - marked the walls of the empty prison cells. There were no characters yet and no sound effects, but one could easily imagine chittering rodents, the moans of the condemned, and a soundtrack heavy on theremin.

"Too dark," was Harry's decided opinion.

"It's Chaotica's dungeon, Harry," Tom scoffed.

"Yeah, but you won't be very impressive as Captain Proton when you're tripping over your own feet."

"Huh." Tom let out a sound of grudging agreement. Harry knew how much his older friend disliked taking advice, but he was smart enough to know a good idea when he heard it.

"As for B'Elanna, she loves you. She literally told you so, remember?"

"Well, yeah, but we were both loopy with oxygen deprivation at the time. The moment we got out of Sickbay, she tried to take it back."

It was too dark in Chaotica's dungeon to see the expression on Tom's face, but the falseness in that devil-may-care tone of his was as clear as a wrong note on Harry's clarinet. Tom cared about B'Elanna much more than he let on. Harry, who cared about her too in his own way, swallowed several undiplomatic remarks about what idiots they both were.

"What makes you think she's not serious about you?" he asked instead."

"Little things," said Tom. "Here and there. Nothing important by itself, but … "

"Like what?"

"Like … the sex is amazing, but she never stays the night, either at my place or hers. It's like our quarters are a crime scene and she doesn't wanna leave any evidence."

Harry snorted. "You've been spending too much time on the holodeck."

"Hey, look who's talking." Tom reached across the console to punch him on the arm. "Catch any good waves at Paxau lately?"

"Don't even start." Harry winced at the memory of Marayna. He knew all too well what it was like to fear rejection. "This is B'Elanna we're talking about. Are you sure she's not just acting casual because she thinks that's what you want?"

"What do you mean?"

"She's not a telepath, you know. And you do give the impression of being a casual-relationship kind of guy."

Harry knew better. Tom might flirt with every pretty girl he set eyes on, but it was all talk, nothing more. Harry himself had a longer dating record than Tom did on Voyager, not that it was intentional on his part. The only woman the pilot had actually gone out with over the past three years was Megan Delaney, and she was the one who'd broken it off, mostly because she knew that Tom was falling for B'Elanna before Tom realized it himself. (Harry was still irritated by that, even if he had to admit it was nobody's fault. Megan was a wonderful girl who deserved better than being a consolation prize.)

Tom let out another "Huh," as if he'd never considered the matter from this perspective before.

"Seriously, Tom. You know this kind of thing is tough for her. It took her three years and several near-death experiences to even admit she likes you. If you want her to show her commitment, you're gonna have to show yours first."

Tom was quiet for so long, Harry was already beginning to worry. If the pilot said something sarcastic now, he was out of here. Like Chaotica's lightning shields, Tom's sarcasm might have been designed as a defense mechanism, but walking into it could still hurt.

"Here," said Tom eventually, bending low over the console, his face lit up bright white by the screen. He was smiling. "How's this?"

Lights came on all along the dungeon corridor, floating will-o'-the-wisp globes that flickered and bobbed up and down. Harry poked one with his finger. It was transparent.

"Nice!" said Harry, meaning it. They were spooky enough to match the rest of the setting, but at least there was enough light to see by.

"Thanks, man."

Tom clapped him on the shoulder. Harry knew it wasn't just his feedback on Captain Proton that his friend was talking about.

"Anytime," he said.