Title: Costume Nights|
Rating: PG-13, for m/m implied
Disclaimer: Paramount owns all the characters written about in this story. Non-profit fair use, I'll put them right back, I promise.
Archive: CeePee4Mee, Cha_Club, VSPS, ATPS, CPSG, any others please ask first
Note: This was the first story I ever posted. It was written in answer to a Cha_Club challenge to: Write a short story, about 1000 words long. Must include the words: 'rose', 'chocolate', 'oyster', 'whips', 'chains', 'bridge', 'orgasm', 'turbolift', 'red', 'blue', 'white', 'rainbow' and 'art'. The second motivation was to help jump start the regency muse for a friend for a wonderful regency piece she is working on. So if things look a bit odd at first, you will know why.
"Are you coming to the costume party tonight, Tom?" asked Neelix as Tom contemplated the strange offerings at the breakfast spread in the messhall. Oysters for breakfast? Red, white, and BLUE Oysters? What was Neelix trying for, an oyster rainbow?
"No, I don't think so, Neelix," Tom responded distractedly, trying to find SOMETHING edible. "I'm just not in the mood." Tom was suddenly impacted by a body throwing itself at his back and shoulder.
"Oooh, Tom, I would think it would take whips and chains to keep you away!" a breathy voice breathed in his ear, allowing Tom to identify his attacker as Megan Delaney.
"Um, no, Meg, I'm just not in the mood," Tom responded as he tried to diplomatically extract himself from the living blanket draped across him.
"What's the matter, Paris? Can't think of a costume?" came a voice suddenly from somewhere behind Megan.
"Oh, I can think of LOTS of costumes for you, Tommy," Megan purred. Tom quietly cursed the cosmos. Megan had been fun at first, but that was long before B'Elanna. Unfortunately, she took his breakup with Torres as free rein to pursue Tom. Publicly. Very publicly. With comments about whips, chains, and orgasms in turbolifts -- or on the bridge.
"Delaney, he'd let Chakotay dress him for the party before he would let you," came another voice from behind Megan. Tom redoubled his curses. Bad enough Chakotay had entered the conversation; now B'Elanna was here too. And jealous. She might have decided she didn't want Tom, but she had made it plain she didn't want anyone else to have him, either. Especially Megan.
"Now that is an interesting idea," Chakotay drawled from behind. "My dressing Tom. What do you think?"
"What do I think about WHAT?" Tom exclaimed, finally managing to dump Megan as he spun to confront his first officer. "Do you really think I would let you dress me for the costume party?"
"I was talking picking out your costume, not dressing you," B'Elanna laughed, "but what you boys want to do in private is your own business . . ." she continued to everyone's amusement. "But, as opposed to Megan picking out your outfit, or Chakotay, who would you chose?"
"Um," started Tom, desperate, wondering how he had been trapped in this surreal conversation. "Chakotay, I suppose, but . . ."
Tom never had a chance to finish. "Fine," the Commander responded, sending Megan a smug look, much to B'Elanna's amusement. "Check your replicator after the shift -- your costume will be there."
Megan Delaney flounced off in a huff, and Tom stood there, dumbfounded, in the middle of the messhall, wondering how he got himself into these situations.
After shift Tom reluctantly started towards his quarters. Whatever he found coded into the replicator, he would have to wear, and make at least a token appearance at the costume party. If he didn't, he would never live it down.
But at the same time Tom was inwardly cringing. Oh, he and Chakotay were civil enough to each other, but they had never gotten close. And he had his sneaking suspicion that the first officer wanted to get even with him for something. Like dumping B'Elanna, one of his best friends. Of course, it was B'Elanna who dumped Tom, but no one, except maybe Harry, had believed that. Tom had been painted the bad guy in the most public of forums, public opinion, and had withdrawn in the weeks since.
Tom sighed as he entered his cabin, and immediately went to the replicator to find out the worst. The outfit seemed to consist of four pieces -- doublet, jerkin, hose, and a cape. Apparently, Tom mused, he was supposed to wear his own underwear. Or none. He grinned, wondering what Chakotay would think of that.
The doublet was in white and a light blue, and had fitted sleeves that buttoned up the back, with a roll at the shoulder. Further, the doublet was heavily padded in the shoulders, narrowing at the waist with a slight "skirt." Tom's eyes narrowed, wondering at being caught in public in this outfit, much less appearing voluntarily. The jerkin appeared to fit over the doublet, and was a bright azure with a high collar.
The hose were another story. Thankfully, though, the upper hose appeared to be knee-breeches of a sort, but made in a blue velvet to match the jerkin and blend with the doublet. They were very tight, Tom noted as he tried them, buttoning at the knee with over-the-knee white silk stockings to fit underneath, and with fancy garters to hold them up.
Tom then realized there was shirt too -- a white silk shirt gathered front and back, with separate fancy collars and cuffs, to fit under the doublet. Then, over top, was a short Spanish-style cloak with a hood. Tom realized he could wear the cloak thrown back, to accommodate a sword at his hip. For there was a sword, too, awaiting him in the replicator.
Tom sighed. For some reason, Chakotay wanted him to appear as some sort of Regency gentleman. Fine. He would play the fop, give everyone a laugh, and retire early to his quarters.
Tom entered the holodeck with some trepidation. He was just waiting for B'Elanna, or worse, some of the Maquis to spot him in this get-up. But everyone was admiring the Captain's period gown, with the decoupage cut oh so low, although authentic, and thus were completely oblivious to his presence. That was, except for Chakotay.
Tom suddenly turned his attention from the Captain's gown to Chakotay as the man approached him. Tom suddenly forgot to breathe. Chakotay's outfit was very similar to Tom's, but somehow even more formfitting, with less padding. And the colors were very different, in strong russets and burgundy. Tom might feel stupid, but Chakotay looked strong, confident, and delectable in the costume. The doublet just brushed the top of his thighs, leading Tom's eyes to the tight knee-breeches. . . . Tom tried to distract himself from those thoughts by looking the first officer in the eyes. And got the surprise of his life.
"Tom," Chakotay said, and Tom looked, really looked, for the first time into those dark expressive eyes. And lost his soul. Suddenly, Tom wanted nothing more than to lose himself in the universe he saw in those eyes, to press himself against the broad chest, to gently press his lips against the plush ones inches from his own. . . Tom moaned to himself, again cursing the cosmos. He had loved Chakotay for years, since the Maquis, when he had been too messed up for the dynamic Maquis Captain to notice him, except to yell at Paris for screwing up again. Tom had given up hope, here in the Delta Quadrant, after the Ocampa homeworld. If saving Chakotay's life hadn't been enough to make his dark dream notice him, Tom had decided, nothing would, and he had tried to move on . . .
Only to have those old feelings suddenly come rushing back on him in full force.
Suddenly, Tom realized that Chakotay had been talking to him: "I'm so glad you actually took me up on the costume, Tom. I thought we could play matching courtiers. That blue -- looks very good on you, you're a work of art," and the tone of voice registered on Tom, belatedly. Chakotay's voice was pitched low, the man was practically purring at him -- flirting with him? Chakotay? No, it couldn't be! Tom stood there bewildered.
Without a response, Chakotay continued. "You don't mind the costume, do you, really? I'm sure Megan would have come up with something much worse. And I knew this would flatter those long legs of yours . . ."
"My legs?" Tom squeaked in confusion.
"I love your legs, Tom," Chakotay responded, lowering his voice.
Chakotay was flirting with him! Tom stood in a daze, bright blue eyes hazy, mouth slightly open, staring into Maquis' dark eyes. "You do?" he responded, still disoriented by the direction this conversation was taking.
"I've admired those long legs for a long time, Tom," Chakotay responded, "among other things."
"But what about the Captain?" Tom asked desperately, his mind refusing to take in the fact that his dream man was making blatant passes at him.
"The Captain," Chakotay responded, cupping Tom's cheek in a hand, "can go play governess with her hologram. I'm interested in the real thing."
"Me?" Tom responded quietly, breathlessly.
"You," Chakotay responded, and the two stood staring into each other's eyes, oblivious to the party starting around them.
Across the room Harry, dressed in a samurai costume, nudged B'Elanna, nodding towards the two Regency courtiers, stock still in the middle of the dance floor. As they watched, Chakotay slowly took Tom in his arms and began to waltz, still oblivious to the rest of the room. "When did that happen?"
"When Chakotay picked out his costume for him, I imagine," B'Elanna responded smugly, settling her own Klingon armor more firmly across her back. When faced with Harry's blank look, B'Elanna took pity and responded, "It's a long story Starfleet, but let's just say, when I let Tom go, I knew he wouldn't stay available for long. Chakotay just needed a push, and I gave it to him this morning." She glared delightedly at Megan Delaney, who was across the room in a very revealing can-can dancer outfit, shooting daggers at the first officer.
"Okay . . ." Harry drawled, still somewhat confused, but content to wait until morning, when he could corner Tom in the mess hall. He knew he shouldn't have slept in that morning, day off or not. He'd obviously missed a bombshell . ..
"So," teasingly began Tom, as the realization finally set in that, just perhaps, his dreams were coming true, "do you have any other costumes you want me to try?"
"Lots," Chakotay responded, leaning to nibble on a lean neck as he slowly waltzed passed a stunned Captain and crew with Tom in his arms. "But some are, let's just say, not fit for public consumption. Would you like to take this elsewhere?"
"I'd love to," Tom purred in response, feeling that perhaps his costume was already too revealing in certain aspects. "It sounds like a wonderful idea."
"Well," responded Chakotay, as he drew Tom close with an arm around his waist, to escort him from the holodeck, "I told B'Elanna I was going to try roses and chocolate, but she's right, this worked much better."
"Oh yes," Tom said with a smirk. "I think I like costume night a lot better."
"Oh, trust me, we are going to have lots of costume nights, Tom," Chakotay said, as he led his new love from the holodeck into their new life.