Tom Takes A Lickin'     (PG and P/T)Maryann Hopson (MEHOPSON@aol.com)*New P/T Collective Designation: DM 2 of 2!This is my first piece of fanfiction.  Any and all constructive comments greatly desired.  Thank you to Julie/Netvalkyri who, in addition to being a Newbie Counselor, is a great beta-reader.  She bolstered my waning confidence, and was able to help me find the weak link in the story.This story is set sometime between "Worst Case Scenario" and "Day of Honor".  Broad, I know, but it is a fairly stand-alone piece.  It's all alternate timeline stuff anyway!Synopsis:  One night at Sandrine's, Tom Paris shares a story from his childhood with B'Elanna, Harry, and Capt. Janeway.  Afterwards, Tom walks B'Elanna home . . .Requisite Disclaimer:  Paramount owns the Star Trek universe, Voyager, and her crew.  That doesn't stop me from thinking about them, especially Tom Paris and B'Elanna Torres.  I definitely own the story --  I doubt they'd want it anyway!  This is only for fun, never for profit, simply for the enjoyment of myself and other P/Ters.*************************************************************     B'Elanna Torres entered the holodeck, and looked around.  Although everyone not on duty seemed to be in Sandrine's tonight, it only took her a moment to spot Harry and Tom.  They were in the center of the room, playing pool, although Tom seemed much more interested in entertaining a small group of crew members with his witty repartee.  Harry leaned against the pool table, waiting for Tom to finish up and take his turn.  He was giving Tom half of an amused look;  the other half  clearly implied that he really didn't know what to do with Tom.  Harry looked back over his shoulder, spotted B'Elanna, and waved her over.     As B'Elanna approached her friends, she heard Tom conclude his story.  "So, anyway, for the next five or six years that's how we tortured each other.  She'd lick me, I'd lick her . . .   We were weird."  The others laughed appreciatively, and began to wander off.  After a few moments, only Tom, Harry and B'Elanna remained.     "I've heard of 'kiss and tell', but 'lick and tell', Paris?  That's definitely pig-like."  B'Elanna smirked at Tom, but her voice held none of the challenge it had in the past.  Things were . . . different between them now.     Tom threw her a quick glance and grin, before turning and silently lined up his shot.  He proceeded to skillfully hit the five ball against all four banks, completely missing any and all pockets.  Adding insult to injury, he'd set Harry up for an easy win.  He turned around, a sheepish look on his face.  "You've got it all out of context, Torres.  It's completely innocent in context.  Cute, even," he assured her.     "I bet," smiled B'Elanna, as Harry sunk his last ball.          "And now, eight ball in the corner pocket," announced Harry, indicating his goal with the cue stick.  Tom and B'Elanna watched as he easily knocked the ball into the pocket, ending the game.  "And now, I believe, you owe me two replicator rations, and that the drinks are on you, Tom."  Harry turned to B'Elanna, and asked, "So, B'Elanna, what would you like Tom to get you from the bar?"     "Whatever's on tap is fine with me," B'Elanna answered easily.  "C'mon Starfleet. Let's find a table, while Tom gets the drinks."     Tom headed for the bar, while B'Elanna and Harry found an empty table in the corner.  Tom quickly joined them, distributing glasses of Synthale all around.  "So, B'Elanna, what're you doing out of your office?  We thought you were chained to your desk, reading monthly reports," he said.     "If I have to look at another replicator use or fuel consumption log tonight, I'll -"  B'Elanna paused to consider the possibilites.  "I'll do something Klingon," she finished with a mock growl.     "Well, then . . ." murmured Harry, quickly taking a gulp of his drink.     "Okay, next topic," declared Tom.     "And that would be . . ." prompted B'Elanna.     "Well, I could tell you the whole licking story, B'Elanna, but perhaps I should leave it to your fertile imagination," grinned Tom.     "I have other things to devote my imagination to," replied B'Elanna blandly.  "Why don't you just fill me in."  B'Elanna took a sip of her ale, and leaned back in her chair, giving Tom an appraising look.     "Okay," laughed Tom.  "Here's the story.  Now believe it or not, as a child, I could be, on occasion, fairly obnoxious."     Harry interrupted, grinning, "You?  Obnoxious?  Naw!"     "Good evening, Tom, Harry, B'Elanna."  The three friends looked up to greet Captain Kathryn Janeway, who stood expectantly, holding a glass of ale.     "Captain, please, join us," invited B'Elanna.  "Tom was just about to tell us all about what an obnoxious child he was.  And something about licking, too."     "Oh, my," murmured Captain Janeway, as she took the last seat around the table.  "I got bored with the monthly reports, and thought I might challenge you to  a game of pool, Tom.  I can always use more replicator rations, for coffee, you know.  But, this sounds much more interesting.  Please, proceed."     "I'm really a good pool player," protested Tom.  "I've just been off lately."     "Of course," agreed B'Elanna.  "Now, you were an obnoxious child . . ." she prompted.     "Right.  Obnoxious," repeated Tom.  He took a sip of his drink, and settled back in his chair to tell the story.  "Well, it all started on New Year's Eve, when I was eight.  My parents were at some big Federation Council party, and my sisters and I were staying with our maternal grandparents for a few days."  Tom chuckled softly, thinking ahead about his story.  B'Elanna rolled her eyes, grinning at Janeway and Harry.     Tom continued.  "You've got to understand.  My sister Sarah - she's the oldest - hates to be touched.  She's not quite neurotic about it, but close.  I was very aware of this fact, and so I was always bugging her by hanging on her.  I'd give her hugs, latch onto her arm, snuggle up close on the couch, whatever, and she'd always get mad and yell at me."          "So your habit of annoying women, with constant, unsolicited attention is a pattern from childhood," joked B'Elanna.     "Oh yeah," agreed Tom smoothly.  "But, once I make my choice, I devote all my attention, solicited or not, to one woman."  Tom caught B'Elanna's eye for a mere second, but it was enough to unsettle her, in a delicious sort of way.     B'Elanna recovered quickly, throwing out, "That's called stalking, Paris."      "Nowadays, I do try to avoid any behavior which might actually get me arrested," returned Tom.     "And I truly appreciate that, Tom," said the captain, lightly.  She shifted in her seat, and leaned in over the table.  "So, you were being the pesky younger sibling . . ."     "Yes.  I was a pest," continued Tom.  "And it was New Year's Eve.  It was the first year I was allowed to stay up all the way until midnight, and I was very excited.  Honey had explained -"     "Honey?  Who's Honey?" asked Harry, confused.  He'd already heard the story once, but there'd been nothing about a "Honey".     "Oh, Honey was my grandmother," Tom explained as if it should have been completely obvious.  "Papa - that'd be my grandfather - always called her 'Honey', so that's what all of us grandkids ended up called her too."     "Why did you call you grandfather 'Papa'?" asked B'Elanna.  "It seems somewhat disrespectful."     "Oh, he was a Professor of Literature and his last name was spelled B-H-A-E-R, but pronounced like the animal.  His students called him 'Papa Bhaer' for years, and we all picked that up, too."  Tom paused before admonishing them.  "You know, I'm never going to finish this story if you all keep getting me off on these tangents."     Tom looked around the table, collecting from each of them silent assent to continue.  "So, Honey had told me about the tradition of kissing your loved ones at the stroke of midnight . . ."* * * * *     Eight year old Tom Paris was extremely excited.   He had never, ever been up this late before.  He was up so late, in fact, that it was almost morning.  He could barely control his excitement.  "What time is it now, Peggy?"     Peggy, Tom's twelve year old sister checked her wristwatch, a recent birthday gift from her traditionalist maternal grandparents, and answered patiently, "Eleven forty-six, Tom.  Don't worry, I'll let you know when it is going to be midnight."     "And you just asked two minutes ago, Tommy.  Stop being a pest,"  added Tom's other sister, Sarah, haughtily.  Sarah was fourteen, and hadn't had much use for her younger brother recently.     "I'm not a pest," protested Tom vehemently.  "And you're not supposed to call me 'Tommy', Sarah.  Dad says 'Tommy' is for a baby, and I'm not a baby."  Tom had been protesting Sarah's continued use of his pet name for weeks to no avail.     "So you keep telling me," sniffed Sarah.     The three children were sitting together at the library table, working on a jigsaw puzzle of the Grand Canyon.  They always did jigsaw puzzles when visiting their grandparents.  Papa loved them.  Tom had assembled about fifteen centimeters of edge.  It was obviously from the bottom of the puzzle, so he moved around to Sarah's side of the table, looking for the spot where it hooked in.  He spotted it, and leaned across Sarah to pop it in place.  "Tommy, get off of me!" shrieked Sarah.     "He was only helping with the puzzle," defended Peggy crossly.  "Don't be so mean, Sarah."     "I'm not being mean,"  grumbled Sarah.  "I just want to know why he always has to touch me."  She shot Tom a look meant to stop him in his tracks, but it had no effect, and it certainly didn't compare to a certain Look that Tom would become familiar with later in life.     "Come over here and help me, Tom," offered Peggy.  "I think I've finally found every piece of the sky."     As Tom moved over to join his other sister, their grandparents came into the library, each carrying a tray.  "Now you may either have cookies and milk," explained Honey, holding up her tray for them all to see.  "Or, you can have champagne with Papa and me.  There is also fruit, cheese, and crackers."  Papa showed the children the tray he was carrying.     "We can't have champagne," protested Peggy, scandalized.  "We're just kids."     "You can tonight," said Papa mildly.  "It's a special occasion.  Just don't tell your father.  I doubt he would approve."     "I just want the milk and cookies," Tom decided quickly.  He loved Honey and Papa, but he certainly didn't want to do anything of which Dad might not approve.     Honey made them all step away from the puzzle, and gather around the fire, which was burning cheerily on the hearth at the end of the long room.  She passed glasses of milk to Tom, Peggy, and finally Sarah, who had taken a little longer than her younger siblings to make her choice.  Honey and Papa each took a flute of champagne, and they all began to count down the last few seconds of the year.     The large grandfather clock sounded, indicating the arrival of a new year.  They all clinked glasses, exclaiming, "Proust!"  and "Happy New Year!"  Papa leaned over to give Honey a kiss.  Tom, having been briefed by Honey earlier in the day, tugged on Peggy's arm, bringing her cheek down to his level.  He gave her a quick kiss, and then traded places with Papa.  He kissed Honey on the cheek, and she kissed him back.  Finally, Tom turned to Sarah, who having received her kiss from Papa, grumpily submitted to Tom's kiss.     The last peal of the clock sounded, and slowly drifted off.  Tom, excited and happy about his first New Year's Eve, leaned against Sarah, and tried to hold her hand.  Sarah allowed it for a few seconds, and then shook him off with an exasperated, "Tommy!"     "Now, Sarah," admonished Honey.  "Tom is simply being an affectionate little brother.  There's no reason to be upset."     "'Zactly.  I love you, Sarah," offered Tom, nodding vigorously.  He wasn't very believable.     As they moved back toward the puzzle on the table, Sarah protested Honey's assessment.  "He just likes to bug me.  He's always hanging on me."  Tom was standing right up against Sarah again, and she gave him a small shove.  "See?" she asked Honey.     "Well, Sarah," replied Honey exasperatedly, "If you want Tom to leave you alone, just lick him next time he's bothering you. That will probably convince him to steer clear."* * * * *     "So this is a story about *your sister* licking *you*?"  asked B'Elanna, who sounded rather outraged.  She'd gotten caught up in the story, as had Captain Janeway and Harry.  She was more than a little annoyed that Tom had tricked them by telling a reavealing - for him, anyway - personal story, only to lead them back to this.  Frankly, she'd forgotten all about the promised 'licking'.     "I must say I'm a little disappointed myself, Tom," chuckled the Captain.     Tom defended himself.  "I told you way at the beginning that I was eight years old, and that I was spending the evening with my grandparents and sisters.  What were you expecting, something bizarre involving an admiral's daughter?"     "It *is* a bizarre story involving an admiral's daughter," reminded Harry.  He addressed his next comment to B'Elanna and the Captain.  "But don't worry, I've already heard this story.  It's not over."     "Exactly.  And, Dad wasn't an Admiral then.  That happened a few months later," clarified Tom.  "Anyway, Sarah was really grossed out at the idea of licking me, although I doubt she would have felt any better about licking anyone else.  So she wouldn't lick me, and after a few more minutes Honey sent us all to bed. . ."* * * * *     The three Paris children were in the backyard of their grandparents house, playing half-court basketball with their favorite uncle, Roger.  Roger had been a "surprise" baby, and at twenty-six was fifteen years younger than his sister Abby, the children's mother.  They were playing two-on-two, boys against girls.  "So, how was Times Square, Rog?" asked Sarah, making an easy basket.       Roger grabbed the ball, stepped out of bounds, and threw it to Tom.  Tom dribbled back toward the basket, and Roger ran up behind him, lifting Tom in order to allow him to dunk the ball.  "Well, actually, Christa and I didn't make it to New York last night," said Roger.     "Why not?" asked Peggy, bouncing the ball twice, and then taking her aim at the basket.     Roger retrieved the ball, and turned to make a quick shot himself.  "Oh, we were having such a nice time by ourselves.  There didn't seem to be any reason to go into New York just to watch some silly ball drop.  After all, I'm pretty sure they'll still do it next year.  So, we stayed in Vermont, hung out around the fire . . ." Roger's voice trailed off.     Sarah had the ball now.  "And that's all you can tell us.  The rest is 'not for children'," she surmised.     "Something like that," grinned Roger.     "Figures," groused Sarah, dribbling the ball.  "I can't wait until I'm grown up.  I couldn't even have champagne last night, 'cause Peggy freaked out.  Instead, I did a jigsaw puzzle."     "Poor Sarah," sympathized Roger.  "Life's rough.  So, which National Park did you do?"     "Grand Canyon," answered Peggy and Tom in unison.     "I always liked that one," remarked Roger.      Sarah was getting impatient.  "Are we actually going to play?  I don't want to just stand around all day, and it's no fun if we just let everyone take turns scoring  baskets."     "I'm playing!" crowed Tom, jumping in front of Sarah, trying to block her shot, although he was six inches shorter.     Sarah tried to go around him, but he anticipated her moves.  Sarah took a step forward bumping into Tom, who didn't budge.  Suddenly, Sarah faked Tom out, spinning around him, and taking her shot.  Tom, unwilling to admit defeat, turned and tackled Sarah.  She'd already thrown the ball, and he didn't weigh enough to take her down, just throw her off-balance a little.  In fact, all Tom succeeded in doing was to annoy Sarah.  "Get off of me, Tom!" she shrieked.       Tom backed off, his eyes wide.  "I'm sorry, Sarah," he said softly.     "Champ, you can't be doing that.  We're playing basketball, not football," chided Roger lightly.  "Now why don't we all play nicely, and like we mean it."  He tossed the ball to Peggy, and they began again.     They played for about ten minutes.  Tom and Roger were ahead by four points, and needed only one more basket to win.  Sarah scored another basket, and  Roger took the ball out of bounds.  He tossed it into Tom, who scored the winning basket, despite the fact that Peggy, for once, was actually guarding him.     Tom was excited, and ran to hug Roger, and then Peggy.  Sarah joined the others, as they headed back into the house for hot cholcolate.  "Good shot, Tommy," said Sarah, half-grudgingly.  "You're getting pretty good at basketball.  Now you just need to grow."     Tom was surprised to hear kind words from Sarah.  They hadn't gotten along very well since she'd started high school that fall.  Impulsively, he threw his arms around her, exclaiming, "Thanks!"     "You're welcome," mumbled Sarah, patting him on the head.  She waited a few seconds before saying, "Let go, Tommy."     "But, Sarah, I love you," he said mischeviously, squeezing her tighter.      "Fine, then," said Sarah, an evil look in her eye.  She grabbed both of his arms away from her waist, pulled up on the right one and . . .* * * * *     "So, she grabbed my arm, and licked me from my wrist to my shirt sleeve,"  Tom concluded, absently tracing a finger up his arm from the wrist to about two inches above his elbow.  "I was absolutely shocked."     "And did you finally leave her alone?" asked B'Elanna sarcastically.     "Of course not," grinned Tom unabashedly.  "Sure, I  backed off for an hour, maybe.  But, then I was right back there bugging Sarah, until she licked me again."     "And how long did this go on?" asked Harry, with a chuckle.  Tom's story was funny,  but Harry also realized that there was a deeper, more serious side to this telling than the one around the pool table a half hour before.  Harry was glad Tom trusted him, all of them.     "A couple of hours.  Finally, though, I just licked her back," replied Tom.     "Ah-ha!" declared B'Elanna, leaning forward in her seat.  "I knew there had to be something about you licking something in this story."  B'Elanna leaned back, realizing sheepishly that her strong interest in Tom's licking habits might be misinterpreted.     "Well, of course," replied Tom amiably.  "You didn't think I was going to disappoint you, did you?  It isn't nearly as good a story if I don't lick her back."  Tom looked expectantly to B'Elanna for a comeback, but she simply stared down at her drink.  He continued, lightly, "And that is where you came in the first time, B'Elanna.  From then on Sarah and I  had our best moments, our closest moments, really, after a 'lick attack'.  That was how I'd know if I was pushing too much, and it was how she'd know I wanted some attention.  It was weird, but it worked for us.  And it annoyed Dad, which was a nice bonus."          With Tom's final declaration, B'Elanna knew he was closing himself off again.  Still, she was amazed that he'd willingly revealed so much of himself to them.  The mood was further broken when the Captain announced that she needed to go.       "There's Chakotay," she pointed out.  "He probably wants to discuss those monthly reports."  Janeway groaned at the thought, and then stood up from the table.  "Thanks for the entertaining story, Tom," she said, and then she was gone.     Harry stood up next.  "Well, it was an even better story the second time, Tom.  I should be getting back to my quarters.  I have an early shift tomorrow."  And with that Harry was also gone.     Tom and B'Elanna sat silently, each fiddling with their drinks.  B'Elanna, for once desperate to fill up the silence, inquired, "Tom, if you don't mind my asking, however did the subject of licking even come up?"     "Oh," replied Tom, chuckling.  "Harry told me he 'had me licked good this time'.  I started laughing, and told him that Sarah had beat him to it.  Ensigns Kubota and T'Mar were sitting close enough to hear me as well.  I remembered that Ensign Lowell's first name is Sarah.  She's roommates with Ensign Kubota -"     B'Elanna cut him off.  "And you wanted to nip in the bud any potential rumors about the two," she guessed, giving him a pointed look.     "Get your mind out of the gutter, B'Elanna," chided Tom lightly.  "I wasn't even thinking that.  Ensign Lowell?!?  Please, she's a nice kid, but, really . . .  I just didn't want anyone to think she'd beaten me at pool.  I have a reputation, tarnished though it may be, to protect."     "Yeah, so I've heard," replied B'Elanna.  It was a neutral comment,  but it effectively closed that particular topic of discussion.     Tom and B'Elanna sat uncomfortably as the air seemed to settle more thickly about them.  Tom tried furiously to find something innocuous to say, something completely unrelated to B'Elanna or himself.  Unfortunately, the flip, sarcastic part of his brain, normally so in control, seemed to have taken a vacation.  He took a deep breath and decided to go with brutal honesty.  "B'Elanna, you don't have to lick me to get me to back off.  If I've been pushing you too much, just call me a pig, and tell me to go away for awhile. . ."  He trailed off, unsure of what else he wanted to say.     Tom was certain he'd made the wrong decision.  She isn't responding, he thought glumly.  I should have just stayed quiet.  When she finally spoke, it was the last thing he'd ever expected.     "If I were ever to lick you Tom, you can be sure it wouldn't be to tell you to go away," said B'Elanna softly. Her voice sounded innocent enough, but the look she was giving him was definitely something else.     Tom was floored.  "I- I- Okay," he finally stammered.          B'Elanna gave him an amused smile, and stood up from the table.  "I'd better get going, too."     Tom was slightly afraid to push B'Elanna any further, but he also wasn't quite ready to see the evening end.  He jumped up, and hesitantly offered, "I could, you know, walk you to your quarters."     Amused at the sight of an almost tongue-tied Tom Paris, B'Elanna agreed, "That would be nice."  She turned toward the exit, and Tom was immediately at her side, his hand almost cupping her elbow.  *My toes are not tingling*, thought B'Elanna decisively.     They walked down the corridor to the turbolift without talking.  This time the silence wasn't uncomfortable.  Rather, it was electrified.  They both savored the moment.  When they reached the end of the corridor, Tom summoned the turbolift, and when it arrived, stepped back to allow B'Elanna on first.  When he joined her inside, she turned to him and said, "I thought there was some twig involved in that human kissing ritual."     "'Human kissing ritual,' huh?"  Tom grinned at her.  "I guess there's more than one 'human kissing ritual'.  The one you're thinking of is associated with the winter solstice, which is celebrated during December, before the New Year.  According to that ritual, any two people caught standing beneath the mistletoe, the twig, as you so aptly put it, must kiss.  And, of course, the New Year's Eve ritual is simply that you kiss your loved ones at midnight.  Got it?"     "Got it," returned B'Elanna.  The turbolift had arrived at her deck, and they both stepped off.  "Human rituals are fairly easy to get, Paris,"  teased B'Elanna.     "Unlike Klingon rituals, which have culturally mandated levels of complexity," joked Tom back.     "They're not so difficult, if you try to understand them," argued B'Elanna.  "Really, Klingons have a small few overriding themes.  Loyalty.  Honor.  Bravery."     "Oh, I understand the themes, and I even understand the sentiments.  It's the minute details of the ceremonies I have a hard time following."     "Studying up, Tom?" questioned B'Elanna.     "I like to read," he replied noncommittally.  They had reached her door, so B'Elanna keyed in her code.  Tom cleared his throat, and said, "I guess I should be going."     B'Elanna looked up at him, and said, "I guess you should."  Their gazes held for a few seconds, and then B'Elanna turned away, taking a half-step into her quarters.  She looked at the wall, and noticed the time, 23:59.  Quickly she turned back around, and called, "Tom, wait!"     Tom paused, three steps from her door, and turned to face her.  "Something wrong, B'Elanna?"     "No," she replied, taking a deep breath.  "Just come here for a second."     Tom complied.  In an instant he was at her side, looking down at her, half confused, half concerned.     Don't lose it now, B'Elanna told herself.  You've made your decision.  She looked back over her shoulder, and then she decided to act.  She turned back to Tom, put both hands on his shoulders, stood on her tippy-toes, and pulled his head down to her own.  "Happy New Year, Tom," she whispered, bringing her lips to his.     It was a short, sweet kiss, but not a simple one.  Although it lasted, in reality, only a few seconds, Tom thought that half of an eternity might better describe it.  B'Elanna, too, was bowled over.  It ended when B'Elanna lost her balance, and dropped back to flat feet, much to their mutual disappointment.  Their gazes locked again, and both were stunned to see the myriad of emotions swimming in each other's eyes.  "It's August," Tom whispered, after an interminable moment.  "Back on Earth, it's August or September . . ."     "I know," B'Elanna whispered back.     "Then . . . Happy New Year?"  Tom's voice cracked, but he was too stunned to be embarrassed.     "Yes," replied B'Elanna, leaning up to give Tom a kiss on the cheek.  She stepped back into her quarters, and said, again, "Happy New Year, Tom."     B'Elanna's door closed, leaving one very stunned Tom Paris standing outside, the quadrant's goofiest grin plastered on his face.  Wow, he thought.  Happy New Year.* * * * * FINIS (for now . . .)