"Tipping the Scales"
by Maisie (maisierita@comcast.net)
copyright 1997
(Voy,
C/P, R)
Disclaimer: I do not own Tom. I do not own Chakotay. I do not own Q. I'm just borrowing with no malicious intent. Please don't sue.
Notes: This is a little bit of fluff silliness that I wrote for the CPSG. I have been told that it was directly responsible for a lamp being broken. :) Enjoy!
Feedback: Please! Anything but flames gladly accepted at the above edress.
It was late at night, probably past midnight, and Tom was the only one left in Sandrine's. He hadn't run it for a while; the resort program had become a more popular hangout, but whenever Tom was feeling gloomy, he spent the evening in the bar. Dark, smoky, reeking of beer ... it suited his mood.
Harry and B'Elanna spent the evening there with him, but they'd left a half an hour ago to get some sleep, so Tom was left alone, nursing a synthale and speaking to Sandrine.
Tom took a deep pull of his drink, and missed the flicker that ran through Sandrine. When he looked back up, she was leering at him. "What is it?" he said, a bit taken aback.
"Nothing," she said. She leaned over the bar, ran her finger across his lips. "I was just thinking how sad it is that you are so lonely." She let her other hand run through his hair.
Tom sat up straight. "Sandrine, stop it. What are you doing?"
"Offering to relieve your loneliness?" she said, suggestively, reaching down to undo the top button of her dress."
Tom was appalled. "Has someone been messing around with your program?"
"No, mon cherie," she purred, opening another two buttons. "I just can't stand to see you suffering like this."
"I'm not suffering." Tom stood up and moved away as Sandrine came out from behind the bar, advancing on him slowly. "Computer, halt program!" he squeaked, not enjoying this at all.
The rest of the holocharacters froze in place, but Sandrine merely stood still and crossed her arms, an expression of pique settling on her face. "You know what your problem is, Helmboy?" she said, all trace of a French accent long gone. "Your problem is that you don't know how to relax and have a little fun."
"Helmboy?" Tom repeated, eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Oh god, don't tell me ..." He groaned as a flash of light illuminated the room, and Sandrine disappeared, to be replaced by someone younger, prettier, and a whole lot more lethal ... "Q."
"Happy to see me?" she said with a wicked smile.
"Not really," Tom answered, moving back to the bar and finishing his drink in one long gulp. "What do you want, Q?"
Q pouted prettily. "You humans are always so suspicious. I don't want anything. I just want to help you out of your funk."
"Uh huh," Tom said skeptically.
"No, seriously," Q said. "I want to help cheer you up."
"That's all right, Q. I'll be fine by myself."
Q laughed. "You've been telling yourself that for months. Your problem is, you need a good roll in the hay."
"Tell me about it," Tom sighed. "Actually, I've been thinking of joining the priesthood. Then at least I'd have an excuse for being celibate."
Q snorted. "This from the most oversexed man in the Delta Quadrant."
"Most oversexed?" Tom repeated, amused. "You must be confusing me with someone else. I can't even remember the last time I got close to sleeping with anybody."
"I can," Q said. "Six months ago. You and Megan Delaney were in the shuttlebay, but you were interrupted by --" She stopped, seeing Tom's glare. "You do remember."
"Yes, thank you. So, you see, calling me oversexed is a bit of an exaggeration."
"Oh, I didn't mean you personally."
"Q, as usual, you're not making any sense."
Q raised her eyebrows. "I always make perfect sense. I'm omniscient. At any rate, I meant Tom Paris, in general."
"What?" Tom rubbed his hands across his eyes. Maybe this was a bad dream, and that's why he couldn't follow the conversation. "What do you mean, Tom Paris in general?"
Q clucked. "I meant, across the multiverse, Tom Paris is the most oversexed man in the Delta Quadrant."
Tom considered this. "Oh. You mean, counting all the me's in alternate universes?"
"Exactly," Q said, patting him on the shoulder. "It's amazing, really. You have more sex than any creature I've ever seen."
Tom sighed. "Just my luck. All the other me's are fucking like rabbits, and I'm stuck in a holobar talking to you." He peered at his empty glass in dismay, then jumped, startled, when it was suddenly filled with liquid. He glanced at Q, who smiled, and motioned for him to drink. "So," Tom said, peering at Q out of the corner of his eye, "who are all those other Tom Parises sleeping with?"
Q waved her hand in the air. "You wouldn't believe it if I told you."
"Try me."
Q smiled. "That's the spirit. Well, let's see. Most of you are sleeping with B'Elanna Torres."
Tom grumbled. "I guess most of them are having more luck with her than I am."
"Obviously," Q agreed. She cocked her head to one side. "A few of you are sleeping with Kathy."
"Kathy?" Tom repeated, confused. Then his eyes widened. "Captain Janeway????"
"Of course," Q said. "I'm particularly fond of those AU's myself."
"AU's?"
"Alternate universes," Q explained dismissively. "There's only a few of those, though, more's the pity."
"Too bad," Tom said. Then his face brightened. "Seven?"
"What, the Borg?" Q waved her hand. "No."
Tom pouted. "Damn. She's hot. Plus, she's got knowledge of the sexual techniques of a thousand species!" His eyes glazed over slightly.
"Don't worry," Q said soothingly. "I'm sure someday soon there will be a Tom Paris somewhere who'll sleep with her."
"Well, who else is there?" Tom asked.
Q shrugged. "Most of the rest of you are sleeping with Harry Kim."
"What????????" Tom stood up, nearly overturning the bar stool. "Harry? Harry Kim? Are you insane?"
Q considered the question thoughtfully. "I don't believe so. Why?"
"Because ... I mean ... you mean ... Harry?"
"Yes, Harry. Ensign Harry Kim. Your best friend. And, quite often, your lover. Even your husband, frequently."
"Husband?" Tom's voice rose to a screech. "I'm married to him?"
"Not you, personally," Q said, tilting her said to one side curiously. "But several alternate Tom Parises, yes. Why is that so hard to believe?"
"Because ... because ..." Tom was spluttering. "Because he's Harry. And he's a guy. And he's straight! And I'm straight!"
"Not as straight as you think," Q chided. "Most of these AU's split off from yours less than 3 years ago."
Tom shook his head wildly. "I don't believe you."
"I could show you," she offered. She closed her eyes and concentrated. "In fact, there are about 15 AU's we could go to where the two of you are fucking right now. You could see for yourself."
Tom shuddered. "No thank you."
Q's eyes lost focus for a second, and she smiled dreamily. "Mmm. You have the most beautiful scream."
"Scream?" Tom said hesitantly, almost afraid to ask.
"When you orgasm. You scream. And Harry always makes you scream. The two of you have the most second-most incredible sex in the quadrant."
"Second-most?" Tom realized that he'd been reduced to stupidly repeating Q's words.
"Yes," Q said, eyes losing focus again. "The *best* sex in the quadrant is between you and Commander Chakotay."
"Chakotay." Tom repeated this blankly, and stared at Q for several minutes. Finally, he exploded with, "Are you out of your mind????" He started pacing furiously around the bar. "There is no way in hell that I'd be sleeping with Chakotay, I don't care what the hell universe I'm in, I'd never sleep with him, never, never, never!" He was screeching.
Q watched him with some amusement. "I think you doth protest too much, my dear. Look, Helmboy, I'm not making this up. When you and the Big Man do the nasty it's simply the most mind-blowing, intense, incredible experience you could possibly imagine. You're always passing out, and screaming so loudly people can hear it in the hallways."
"No, no, no." Tom was shaking his head. "No way. There is no way I'd sleep with Chakotay."
"Why not?"
"I could give you a hundred reasons."
Q held up her hand, and a long sheet of paper appeared in it. She scanned it quickly. "Well," she said, disapprovingly, "most of these seem to be variations of 'He's a guy.' That's not very open- minded of you." She scanned the list again. "He hates you? No he doesn't. He's in love with Captain Janeway? Not in this AU. He's straight?" She laughed. "About as straight as you are, which is to say, not very." She folded up the list and threw it away. "Face it, Tom, the reason you've been so lonely lately is because you're stuck in a C/P AU, and you're refusing to admit it."
"Ceepee?"
"No. C/P. Chakotay/Paris. It's an abbreviation the Q use to help us keep track of things."
"Why does he get to go first?"
"Pardon?"
"Why is it C/P? Why not P/C?"
Q shook her head. "Because P/C is quite another story entirely, and gods know we have too many of those AU's as it is." She shuddered. "Dreadfully boring. Give me a good torrid C/P any day."
"But I don't want to sleep with Chakotay," Tom said, protesting.
"You only think you don't want to sleep with Chakotay. Most of the alternate Parises didn't think they wanted to sleep with him either."
"Then how did they get together?"
Q laughed. "Usually it takes some catastrophe. Shuttle crash, getting trapped in a cave, kidnapped and tortured by aliens, that sort of thing. Or else Chakotay finds out about your tortured past and realizes he's misjudged you all along."
"What tortured past?"
"You know, your abuse-filled childhood and your abuse-filled days in prison."
"I wasn't abused as a child, and I sure as hell wasn't abused in prison."
"Not in this universe," Q agreed. "This isn't one of the angst timelines." She sighed. "Too bad. I love those."
"Well," Tom said, crossing his arms stubbornly across his chest, "the alternate me's must have had some sort of sexual epiphany I haven't, because I'm not attracted to men."
Q waved the objection away. "You only think you're not attracted to men. Trust me, one look at Chakotay's bronzed, muscled chest and you'll be overcome with a desire to start kissing it. And before you tell me that he's not attracted to you ... when Chakotay sees you undressed, he'll take one look at your slim, muscular chest and be overcome with a desire to run his fingers through the fine red-gold hair on your chest."
Tom looked at the female Q oddly. "You sound like you've been reading one too many romance novels."
"No," she said. "Not romance novels. Slash stories. But you can never have too much slash."
A sudden flash of light, and Q appeared, dressed in a bathrobe and holding a wailing baby. "Q!" he said, irritably. "I've been looking all over for you. The baby's screaming, he spit up on my best sweater, and you're here playing games with Helmboy! This obsession of yours is getting out of hand, my dear."
Q frowned and took the baby from her husband's arms, soothing him instantly. "It's not an obsession. It's an interest. I'm just about done here, anyway."
"That's what you always say," Q groused. "Look, if you want to get Paris and Chuckles together, just put them in a Jefferies tube for 5 minutes. That always works."
"It's been done," Q said dryly.
Tom interrupted. "Excuse me. Can I ask a question?"
The two Q's turned to face him. "What," the male Q said impatiently.
"Why do you care who I'm sleeping with?"
"Because," the female Q answered patiently, "the P/K AU's are in danger of overrunning the C/P AU's. It will shift the balance of power in the multiverse. So you see, it's vitally important that you follow your destiny in this universe and fall in love with Commander Chakotay."
"Shit," Tom grumbled. "I have to fall in love with him too? Can't I just fuck him?"
Q shook her head. "You've tried that. It never works. You always end up in love with him in the end."
"Aw, hell." Tom looked at Q suspiciously. "You're not going to make me fall in love with him, are you?"
Q shook her head. "No. You'll fall in love with him all by yourself. We only have control of physical aspects of the universe, not the emotional aspects." Her eye gleamed. "However, I could arrange to help you out a bit in the stamina department ... improve your recovery time."
"Huh?"
"You know, the time it takes to recover from one orgasm before you get another erection. Trust me, with you and Chakotay, it's never just a one-shot deal."
"If you ask me," the male Q interjected, "it's overcompensation for all the rapes in prison."
"No, no, dear," Q said. "This is a no-angst timeline."
"Oh. How dull." The baby gave a squall, and the male Q grew irritated. "Can we get out of here already? I have to go bother Picard after dinner."
"Very well," the female Q sighed. "Tom, I'm counting on you to help keep the multiverse stable. Don't disappoint me." In a flash of light, the Q family disappeared and Tom found himself in the hallway outside Chakotay's door, dressed in a royal blue shirt and tight black jeans, with his hand already ringing the chime.
"Hell," he muttered, wondering if he had time to run away before the door opened.
Q's head popped into his line of sight. "Just try it," she encouraged, "You'll like it." With that, she blinked out of existence.
At that instant, the door to Chakotay's quarters slid open, and a muffled, "Come in," rang out. Tom stepped in hesitantly, wondering what in the hell he was doing there.
Chakotay stepped out into the room, dressed in a bathrobe and toweling his hair dry. "Paris?" he asked, surprised. "What are you doing here?" Unwillingly, he noted how the blue of Tom's shirt exactly matched the blue of his eyes, and how the tight jeans outlined his long, slender legs.
"Umm, hi, Commander," Tom said awkwardly, waiting nervously for a burst of desire to hit him, pleased when it didn't. "I just wanted to report an alien visit."
"What are you talking about?"
"Q just spent the last half an hour talking to me in Sandrine's."
"Damn," Chakotay muttered, tossing the towel into a corner of the room. "You'd better tell me all about it." He sat down on the couch, and the movement caused his bathrobe to fall open a bit, revealing a broad expanse of tanned, muscular chest.
Tom tried to tear his eyes away, but it was too late. A jolt of arousal coursed through him, settling in his groin. "Aww, hell," he muttered. "Damn them, anyway."
"What? Tom, you're not making any sense," Chakotay said, distracted by the way Tom was running his fingers through that soft-looking golden hair.
"Tell me, Chakotay," Tom said, sitting next to Chakotay on the couch, and placing one hand very carefully on Chakotay's thigh, "have you ever heard of C/P?"
The End
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