Dedicated to Abbi, just 'cause she liked it.  :)

The Shirts (for lack of a better title...)
by JoAnna Walsvik

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        Harry gave us the shirts as a "belated anniversary present."  I swear,
you'd
think that being Ops officer on this ship would keep him busy, but evidently he
has a lot of time on his hands.
        When I saw mine, I flat-out refused to wear it.  I told both Tom and
Harry
that I wouldn't be caught dead wearing something like that.  But Harry, that
jerk, had to remind me that a few weeks ago he had stayed up all night to help
me repair the warp coils, and that I'd told him that I owed him one.  Me and my
big mouth.
        He called in his favor, and he wanted me to wear that stupid shirt to the
captain's birthday party.  
        Well, I had promised Harry a favor, and I *always* keep my word.  I can
still
remember my mother telling me horror stories about the terrible fate that
befell warriors who didn't honor their promises.  
        I said I'd wear the shirt.  Just one time.  I still can't believe I did
that.
        There I was, standing in the Mess Hall wearing a white T-shirt with the
words
"My Boyfriend's A Pilot" emblazoned across the chest in blue letters.  Bright
blue letters.  
        Tom was standing next to me wearing an identical white shirt, only his
said,
"My Girlfriend's An Engineer" in extremely bright neon pink letters.  The two
of us stood out in that room of soft grays and blues like a red-hot phaser beam
in the blackness of space.
        The captain took one look at the two of us and began laughing so hard
that
Chakotay had to all but carry her to a chair.  Every time we thought she was
going to calm down, she'd look at me or Tom and start all over again.  She
must've laughed for at least fifteen minutes.  
        The doctor insisted on taking a whole essay's worth of holophotos, and
for a
moment I regretted replicating him a new camera after I'd smashed his old one. 

        Harry couldn't stop beaming, Neelix thought we were "even more adorable
than a
pair of kimcats,"  whatever they were, and, if I didn't know better, I'd say
Seven of Nine almost smiled when she saw us.  She looked at my shirt, then at
Tom's, and said, "Is this a formal declaration of your relationship?"
        She's lucky that I was sipping my punch at the time so I couldn't reply.
As
it was, I nearly choked on my drink, but while I was sputtering Tom said
quickly, "Yeah, I guess it is," and grabbed my elbow, leading me as far away
from her as we could get.  He knows I'm still angry about her "research" on us.
        Our shirts were a big hit, though.  Captain Janeway, after she'd finally
stopped laughing, told us that after her promotion to captain, she'd received a
shirt from a friend that said, "Captains Do It At Warp 9." 
        Then Chakotay, winking at Tom, joked that for her birthday he'd given her
a
shirt that said "My First Officer's A Damn Good Pilot."
        She barely blinked before replying, "Then it will match the one I got you
--
'Pilots Make Smoother Approaches.'"
        I don't think I've ever laughed so hard.  The look on Chakotay's face --
like
she'd just thrown a proton grenade at him -- was priceless. 
        When the party was over, and Tom and I were back in my quarters, he asked
if
I'd ever wear the shirt again.  I told him that I might, under the right
circumstances.  
        He only laughed, because he knew as well as I did that those
circumstances
would probably never come.  After all, the shirt had been fun to wear for a
while, but I didn't want to make a habit of it.

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The End?

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