Date: 3 Dec 1998 14:14:41 -0500

From: Laura Jacquez Valentine 

X-Mailer: BatIMail version 3.1

Subject: NEW: Happy Holidays 1/1 (VOY, Tu/P, R)





This one is a special present for Raku, just because I felt like it.

And because I have a lot of work to do, and am really slacking off...



Author: Laura Jacquez Valentine (laurav@stones.com)

Title: Happy Holidays

Series: VOY

Rating: R (language, male/male snuggling and smootching)

Codes: Tu/P

Parts: 1/1

Archive: ASC/EM, R'rains

Summary: Tuvok has a surprise present for his snugglebunny.  Humor.



------------------



Tom was feeling exceptionally grumpy.  He'd spent the last week trying

Vulcan methods of meditation in an effort to be prepared for Tuvok's

traditional "Why should I celebrate these human holidays?" speech, but

they hadn't helped.  



He should have known.  Vulcan meditation never helped.  Well, it made

Tuvok happy, if you could get Tuvok to admit it, which you couldn't.

Maybe he'd be less abrasive than usual in his speech this year.  Not

that it had bugged Tom too much when they'd been Anything But A Couple,

but now that they Definitely Were...well, last year had been hell on a

warp sled.  [If warp sleds could carry hell around on them, which isn't

as unlikely as you might think.]



Tuvok had dug in his heels and refused to wear the jaunty Santa hat

Harry Kim had made for him.  Tuvok had frowned at the sugar cookies that

Neelix had managed to make--and make edible--and refused to help

decorate them.  Tuvok had not bothered to spend replicator rations

making Tom a present, and had lectured Tom for an hour on the illogic of 

such things when the human had had the nerve to ask about the

situation. [This author believes that Tuvok is occasionally a jerk.]



"Feh," said Tom, flipping over onto his stomach.  "Double feh."  He

thought about it for a few minutes, then toed his boots off and let them 

drop onto the floor.  'Feh' wasn't strong enough.



"Fuckity-duckity."



"Fuck-a-doodle-doo."



"Fuck-o-rama."



He felt good humor bubbling about, and tried to suppress it.  But the

game was too much fun.



"Fuckooey."  [This author has no idea how Mr. Paris came up with this

one.  But he did.]



He giggled.



"Tom, what are you doing?"



Tom nearly jumped out of his skin.  "Tuvok!  How long have you been

there?"



"Sixteen point four seconds.  What were you doing?"



Tom blushed.  "Playing a game."



Tuvok raised his eyebrow but let the subject drop. [No doubt for

nefarious reasons of his own which this author is not privy to.  When I

asked Mr. Paris to explain this, he turned purple, and so I'm pretty

sure that Tuvok has some method of extracting information that I'm not

allowed to know about.]



"Do you know what today is, t'hy'la?"



"One of those stupid human holidays, isn't it?  One of those we're not

going to celebrate because it's illogical?  Do remind me, I've

forgotten."  He flipped around so that his head hung over the side of

the bed, his throat exposed to the ceiling.  [A sight that the ceiling,

who was quite the fetishist, appreciated a great deal.]



"It is Christmas Eve, Tom.  I have a present for you."



Tom fell off the bed with a thump.  He sat up, rubbing his head

ruefully.  "I must have misheard you.  Severe head trauma.  Gotta go see 

the Doc."  He stood up and walked past his lover, muttering to himself.

[He wouldn't tell this author what he muttered, but he did say it was

obscene.  "More obscene than 'fuckooey'?"  Yes, I was assured, much more 

obscene than that.]



As he entered the living area of their quarters, he stopped dead.

[Almost literally, because he forgot to breathe and would have smashed

his already-damaged head open on the wall if Tuvok hadn't caught him as

he passed out from lack of oxygen.  This author is of the opinion that

Tom is occasionally less than intelligent.]



When Tom came to, he looked up at Tuvok with tear-filled eyes.  Tuvok

kissed him gently.  "It's true, Tom.  I got you a present."



Tom stood up slowly and walked to the center of the room.  There it was, 

on the coffee table, the most beautiful thing he'd ever gotten.



And he hadn't even unwrapped it yet.



But it was from Tuvok.



For Christmas.



And it was neatly wrapped in red and silver paper, with a big bow on

top.



Whatever it was, it was the best present he'd ever gotten.



He spun around and ran back to his lover, wrapping his arms around him,

rubbing against him, catlike, kissing him [with tongue, this author

asked.  None of your business, Mr. Paris replied.  Fuckity-duckity]

passionately. 



The tall Vulcan held Tom firmly against him and toppled them backwards

onto the couch, where he slid his hand's under the human's shirt and ran 

his nails gently over the skin.



"Happy holidays, Tom."



Tom chuckled and went in for another kiss [this time with tongue, he

assured this author], and cupped Tuvok's half-erection with his hand.  



Happy holidays indeed.



----



The End.