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I just *had* to do this, because I don’t think anyone else 
has.  :)  It takes place some time during the first season--
you can take your pick when.
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Disclaimer:  Please, please, please, Mrs. Paramount, can 
Harry and Chakotay come out to play? 
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Crush
by R’rain Prior
umpriork@cc.umanitoba.ca
Chakotay/Kim, PG

	The fingertips resting heavily on Harry’s forearm were 
searing holes into his skin. ‘Wait a moment, Mr. Kim,’ the 
voice said, resonating across the bridge, sending tiny 
shocks through Harry’s body, ‘Hail the vessel,’ he said.  
Harry performed as Chakotay ordered, distracted as he was by 
the Commander’s presence.
	‘This is Commander Chakotay of the Federation starship 
Voyager,’ he said aloud, ‘Why do you have your weapons 
locked on us?’
	There was silence for a few moments.  ‘No response, 
Commander,’ said Kim, calming his fluttering heart long 
enough to speak in a steady voice.  Dammit Harry, he told 
himself, this is no way for a senior officer to act.  But he 
was lonely and they were so far from home and this was only 
his first assignment...
	‘I can see that, Ensign,’ said Chakotay, tapping his 
com badge, ‘Chakotay to Janeway.’
	It was another long moment before he got a response, 
‘Janeway here.’
 	‘Captain, I’m sorry to disturb you, but we have a 
situation on the bridge.’
	‘I’m on my way,’ was the immediate response.
	Secure in that knowledge, Chakotay sat back down in his 
seat, ‘Well, it seems we have a stalemate,’ he said.  He 
never saw Kim’s eyes which were a constant presence on his 
back, but which quickly glanced away whenever Chakotay came 
even close to looking back.
	While they were waiting for the Captain, Harry ran 
another diagnostic on the weapons systems, more for 
something to do than over any concern as to their readiness.  
It hadn’t happened all at once, by any means, but they 
worked together almost every shift and...  He was so 
handsome and commanding and...  Harry blushed even though he 
knew no one could be hearing his thoughts.  This wasn’t just 
anyone he was fantasizing about...this was the *first 
officer*.  Why do I get myself into these things?  he 
thought,  What is it about him?
	Harry had never been a rebellious child, but somehow 
the idea of it had always attracted him.  Outlaws were often  
romanticized in the eyes of those who had been sheltered 
from them, but Harry had never believed in the rugged rebel 
with a heart of gold...until he had met Chakotay.  The 
moment he saw him all of the stories from his youth came 
rushing back to him.
	Please God, prayed Harry to himself, Please don’t let 
me get hard here on the bridge.  Especially not when the 
Captain’s on her way...
	Chakotay was slouched in his seat in an unconscious 
imitation of Janeway.  Normally he was very rigid and proper 
while he was on the bridge but sometimes, when he was in 
charge and neither Tuvok nor Janeway were there, sometimes 
he let himself relax.  Without them there he had a lot less 
to prove.  Harry stared at the back of his head, believing 
somewhere in his mind that if he stared hard enough he would 
be able to see through to the tattoo that adorned the first 
officer’s face.  The tattoo that he longed to run his 
fingers over in the darkness of the first officer’s 
quarters.
	A fantasy of his rose unbidden to his mind.  The one 
where the bridge was empty except for the two of them.  The 
one where the first officer took him right there, in front 
of the viewscreen, the stars streaking past them as they 
made love.  Damn, he thought, here it comes...  He was 
grateful he was hidden by the ops console.
	‘All right, Commander,’ said Captain Janeway, entering 
the bridge with two ensigns following her, ‘What’s the 
situation?’  As one of the ensigns relieved him, Harry fled 
the bridge for his quarters, not even daring to take a 
single look back at the Commander.
	Chakotay watched Harry leave before answering the 
Captain.  He hadn’t missed the attentions he had been 
getting from the young ensign.  Poor kid, he needs a little 
toughening up, he mused thoughtfully with a slight smile on 
his face, a few more battles, a few more years.  Then maybe.  
Just maybe.

-end-