Summary: Seven goes to Harry for advice. Harry’s less than helpful.

Author’s notes: Thank you to Jenn for her wonderful editing, asides and sand box (and it’s got flags and everything.) Jenkins kinda belongs to Suz, thank you.

Disclaimer: Story mine. The character names and Voyager are not. Zephyr is Jenn’s (but I promoted her, he he he) Jenkins is from "Warhead". Sorry, Paramount, couldn’t resist…Harry angst is so much fun.

* * *

Seven turned the corner easily and began pacing down the corridor with her usual speed, eyeing her target.

He had his back to her and was facing the wall at the far end of the corridor, leaning slightly into someone. Anna Zephyr, tall, brunette, giggled as he talked to her in a hushed whisper, resting his hand on her shoulder with practised ease.

She stood a mere metre away yet he did not acknowledge her. This was rare for Ensign Kim. She knew he had noticed her, as his voice had dropped to just above a whisper. Zephyr too had cast a look up at Seven, but bowed her head when Seven met her gaze. It was not his familiar manner to ignore her. Nor indeed was it his familiar manner to woo his female companions in the corridor of Deck 6.

She announced her presence. "Ensign Kim, I wish to talk with you."

Harry had his back to Seven, he was leaning just to the side of Zephyr on one outstretched hand in a position that could only be described as dominant and from what she could make out the hushed tones sounded…seductive. There was a long pause before he turned around, which he did slowly. From her position, now revealed to be leaning casually against the wall, Zephyr offered Seven a nervous smile, Seven did not return it.

"Seven," Harry said, smiling, his voice overly loud.

Zephyr giggled.

"What do you want? I’m…busy."

Zephyr giggled again, and then covered her mouth with her hand, trying to muffle the sound.

Seven looked blankly at the spectacle before her. Ensign Kim continued to smile, Zephyr had the beginnings of a blush on her cheeks. Seven straightened; it was time for a new approach.

"Ensign Zephyr?" Seven asked, the cool surprise evident in her voice. "I believed you to be engaged with Ensign Jenkins this evening, Ensign Kim." She raised her hand to her badge. "Shall I inform her of the change in circumstances?"

Zephyr’s hand dropped from her mouth and her eyes narrowed. With a short sniff, she shrugged her shoulders, turned on her heel and started off down the corridor.

"Anna…" Harry called limply.

She was a pretty girl, amiable enough, funny, laughed at al his jokes, a really sweet kid when all was told. But she wasn’t Seven of Nine.

She turned and looked at him expectantly. He shrugged, and with her head hung a little low she set off back down the corridor.

Harry sighed and looked at Seven. "Now that you have my full attention." His voice was weary.

"Ensign Zephyr is not aware of your relationship with Ensign Jenkins?"

Harry shook his head and smiled bitterly. "There is no *relationship* with Sarah."

"You have parted company?" Seven inquired.

"No," Harry sighed again, "there never was." It took him a moment to collect his thoughts; his gaze trailed down the path that Zephyr had taken as she’d left, then to his hands. Eventually Harry looked up and replaced his smile. "Anyway, what is this about Seven?"

"I wish to have sex with Lieutenant Paris."

"Oh," Harry said, slumping back against the wall as though the atmosphere just got very heavy.

Her gaze narrowed. "Oh?"

"Yeah, ‘oh’." Harry grinned, seemingly unfazed. "Tell Tom this isn’t funny."

Seven tilted her head. "This is no joke, Ensign."

Harry swallowed hard and looked down, preferring his polished boots to Seven’s hair, Seven’s shoulders, Seven’s… "Right, you see, I was kind of hoping it was."

"It is not. I wish to solicit advice from you regarding this matter. Are you happy to proceed?"

Harry looked nonchalant. "Sure, why not? I’m Harry Kim. I love wallowing in self pity."

Seven did not fully understand his reference but disregarded it, in favour of explaining her predicament. "Tom and I have been seeing one another for…"

Harry moved to her and touched her gently on the shoulder. "Maybe not in the corridor."

She looked about her. "I have no problem divulging information to any member of this crew." If it hadn’t have been Seven of Nine that would have been defensive.

"Ah." Harry’s eyes lit as he slowly began to pull her into a steady pace. "So, you’re just asking me like you would ask any other crewmember?" Harry smiled to himself.

They rounded the corner. "No," Seven said. "I require your unique knowledge and understanding."

"So, you’re asking me as Tom’s best friend, or at least Tom’s friend, or…"

Tom’s what? Tom’s sidekick? The guy who always laughed at his jokes, accepted his bets, lusted after his girlfriends… Looking at it like that, the term friend just didn’t seem to cut it.

"No," Seven said again, turning to him as he pushed the call button for the turbolift. "I am asking you because of your numerous sexual partners. You have detailed experience and obvious expertise in this field."

It was hard for Harry to hide his shock, and it took a few seconds before he could breathe again, let alone speak. He was saved by the turbolift, so to speak, his next words coming easily as he stepped inside. "Deck 4."

The turbolift began its slow hum as it shot up the tube.

Harry turned to her. "So," and he couldn’t hide the self satisfaction. Harry had ‘obvious expertise’ in the field? He’d never heard it put like that before. "Why am I the best candidate?"

"In the last month you have had six different sexual partners, I was unaware if I should count the mumbled sounds I heard coming from Jeffries Tube 47 Alpha as seven."

Harry’s smile didn’t falter. "I’m not a scratch on the bedpost kinda guy."

"I have consulted Captain Janeway in all my other queries as she has shown constant commitment to monogamy. But I require advice in…technique."

The smile fell. "Computer…halt turbolift." He turned to her slowly, taking in the unblinking stare she gave him, the usual way in which her hands were clasped behind her back. At this precise moment he was having trouble deciding whether to laugh hysterically or break down in tears…"A woman maybe, wouldn’t a woman have been a better choice?" he managed.

She had an easy answer. "I wanted a male perspective."

"Oh," he said again, nodding because he could think of nothing better. His brow creased. "Remember when we did this before?"

"I do not require a physical demonstration…."

He grinned. Harry was a human being, he was standing in a confined space with Seven, he was fully aware of the secondary, and not completely authorised, function of turbolifts. One of them needed to act vaguely sane.

But she had to add to it, didn’t she. "…at this time."

Harry’s smile wobbled again. He drew a deep breath, closed his eyes for a moment and told the little voice in his head to shut the hell up, running was not an option, nor was telling her how nice she looked. "What do you want to know?" He sighed.

It wasn’t as though he was uncomfortable with the idea. Oh, wait, that was bullshit, of course he was uncomfortable with the idea. He was uncomfortable with Seven even saying Tom’s name, let alone the very thought of them having wild alcove sex.

"I wish to bridge the gap between knowledge and experience. As with every area of study there are the details and finer points to be mastered."

"Okay." There wasn’t anything more to say. What did he do? Start with the text book definitions, throw in a few anecdotes and begin a chapter by chapter dictation of the Karma Sutra? It occurred to the rational part of his brain that he should get the hell out of the turbolift, but then, Harry was done with being rational.

"Erm," he said, willing himself to breathe normally, he tried to hold his hands still, to stop them from shaking. "You know the general stuff…yeah?"

She raised an eyebrow.

"Okay," he said quietly, "you’ve got the basics down."

"I have exhausted the database for reference."

"Right." Harry swallowed. He wiped his sweaty palms down his uniform pants and the smile wobbled.

Seven was Tom’s girlfriend. He needed to remember that. But then selective amnesia was such a beautiful thing….

"It is less specific than I would prefer."

"No shit." Harry mumbled, trying to stop the turbolift from spinning around him.

"Oral sex intrigues me."

He put a hand to his temple and rubbed, trying to drown out the thumping in his head with a slight burn of Starfleet standard material on flesh, that, or he was remembering this wasn’t a dream. Well, that was actually quite easy to distinguish, in Harry’s dreams that focused on Seven there wasn’t this much talking, or standing, or clothing…

Harry sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. "Oral sex." He smiled nervously, reminding himself he wasn’t in grade school. "Who for?"

"I wish to perform oral sex on Lieutenant Paris."

And the way she said it, it was as though she was talking about her Astrometrics reports, a velocity game with the captain, or nutritional supplement #129, the one with those weird flecks of green.

He chuckled to spite himself and the pounding in his head, the slight trickle of sweat running down his neck, and the well cut finger nails digging into his palm. "Do you see yourself spitting or swallowing?"

"Neither," she narrowed her eyes as he continued to laugh, a little bitterly this time.

He cast her a long look, hoping for as much condescension as he could muster. "You want me to start with the basics?"

She hesitated and then nodded, as if admitting defeat. "Yes."

"Okay, let’s skip the preamble. You’re in quarters, his bed, maybe the bathroom, the sitting area, and I hadn’t even considered the alcove…"

That was a lie, he had.

"…anyway, maybe you’ve still got clothes on, maybe not."

And he’d thought about that too.

"You were referring to semen, Ensign Kim."

"Huh?" Harry turned, a little lost in his own thoughts, trying to ignore exactly what those very same thoughts were doing to a certain part of his anatomy. He blushed and took a step back, realising his proximity to the wall.

"You asked whether I thought I would spit or swallow. You were referring to semen. When my mouth covers Mr Paris’ penis and he ejaculates, I will need to make a decision whether or not to spit or swallow. That is an aspect I hadn’t considered."

Harry blanched. That wasn’t a nice image, not at all, and why did Tom seem to be smiling and Seven…swallowing. He was a very sick man, a very, very sick man, in need of a lot of help…and maybe some trauma counselling…and a nice stiff – oh, bad image – drink.

"So, you know the basics then?" His voice had jumped an octave.

She turned her head. "Would it be appropriate for me to bite his penis?"

Sweat dripped down his forehead, the walls of the turbolift seemed to close in on him, pulsing in and out, in and out.

"After extensive research I have decided that it is most efficient for me to begin stroking to heighten his arousal and then take the head in my mouth, using my tongue to illicit further response. With my hand at this point I believe I should massage his testicles. After exactly 4.2 minutes of engaging in this activity Mr Paris will come to orgasm. But I have yet to decide whether or not it is appropriate for me to….."

"Stop."

Harry shook his head. "Let’s also skip the detail. Listen, to me it sounds as if you’ve got pretty much a, erm, good grasp of what goes on, and if Tom doesn’t like it, he’ll tell you."

"I shall swallow," she said triumphantly.

Harry closed his eyes; half hoping she wouldn’t be there when he opened them.

To his immense dissatisfaction, she was.

Harry hung his head. "Is this really important Seven?"

"I wish the experience to be pleasurable for us both."

"So, you’re not worried that Tom may not meet up to your standards?" It was an odd question, but one that had seemed relevant at the time. If he wasn’t trying desperately not to think about her, he would have realised that she was the insecure one, not a normal thing in this particular former drone.

"Lieutenant Paris has had many partners."

Harry nodded, his composure regained somewhat, but he could feel the sweat dampening his turtleneck. "Or so I’ve been told," he mumbled.

"I have also been well informed that Lieutenant Torres…satisfied his needs."

"And then some."

He took another step forward. She continued to regard him coolly. "Explain."

"They were legendary," he began, and the smile was not one of nostalgia, but something colder, darker. "You’ve heard the Deck 9, Section 12 story haven’t you?"

Her neck stiffened. "No."

Harry grinned. "I don’t tell tales."

"I wish to know."

"Oh no you don’t," Harry’s smile twisted somewhat. "Believe me Seven, it’s never good to know the competition."

He hated himself for it, but he needed to see her squirm. He had to turn the tables, and this was a low trick, but it was working.

"Tell me, Ensign."

He leaned towards her a little, smiling slightly and leering definitely, whispering his words. "She fucked him out of his mind, I swear, he’d leave her quarters in a daze…and she always had this little smile, post event."

Seven’s back straightened even more.

"And when Tom returned the favour the whole deck would hear. B’Elanna was very…vocal. Whichever way, position, day of the week, part of the ship, toy…they had it all covered, and down to a fine art."

"You do not think I will compare well?"

"To B’Elanna?" Harry tried to be serious, but dove further. "Nope."

Her eyes flashed. This was hurting her. Still, if she was going to torture him with home truths then he was going to throw her a few back, and he knew right where to strike. He didn’t even have to lie.

"Should I growl?"

Harry didn’t even bother to hide it, he just stood there and laughed.

"It is not amusing, Ensign."

"It is," he got in between snorts.

Her mouth tightened, indicating her displeasure. "Do not mock me."

Harry stopped laughing. "Well now Seven, let’s play fair. Sometimes, you do these things just to get a reaction." Even Harry was surprised by the amount of venom in his voice.

"You do not wish to help me?"

"No," Harry’s voice softened and he moved to touch her shoulder, something that she recognised he’d done with Ensign Zephyr; she did not shrug it off. "Maybe this isn’t the right way to go about furthering your study. Ask Tom, I’m sure he’ll be erm…willing to help you."

"My goal is perfection, yet I do not believe that discussing it with Mr Paris will lead him to view me in an amorous light."

Harry had to smile, who said she didn’t have a sense of humour? "I know rumours fly thick and fast on this ship, but Tom and I don’t talk about *everything*."

"Do not mislead me. I have often heard you discuss such matters."

"That’s boasting, Seven." Harry smiled. "We’re guys."

She viewed him coolly. "And that is sufficient explanation?"

Harry shrugged, "I guess. Basically, what I’m saying is, everyone’s tastes are different…and you’re better off talking to Tom, hell, you’re even better off talking to the doctor than me."

"If you will not help me, then I must seek guidance elsewhere."

"Tom," Harry said, trying to sound as convincing as possible. "Ask Tom."

"Perhaps."

They fell silent.

With a shrug Harry turned. "Computer resume."

The turbolift started to hum.

On deck 4 the doors opened. Harry waited for Seven to go ahead of him, but she didn’t move.

"Mr Kim, will you reconsider? I wish to be prepared."

He turned to her, looking thoughtful, trying to pretend he wasn’t considering her proposition. "This is the…erm, first time, right?"

"Yes."

Harry smiled, properly now, and shook his head a little. "Sometimes, you just forget that, that in some things you’re so advanced and in others…well…"

"I am not so advanced," she finished for him.

"You must be nervous as hell, I remember I was."

"I am experiencing slight apprehension, nothing more."

Harry smirked, "That’s Seven speak for nervous as hell. Have you…erm, set a date?" And for all of his easy attitude around women, the way he manipulated them so easily, or at least the way they wanted to be manipulated by him, he was still having trouble forming sentences around Seven of Nine.

"Yes. The database states that one should, on average, have six dates before engaging in sexual relations. Lieutenant Paris and I have shared seven."

"So, you’re going to jump him the next time you see him?" He smiled.

"In short, yes."

"Hmm," Harry looked down. "Tom’s got something to look forward to then."

It sounded like he was talking about a holodeck program, a new shuttle, a different kind of pizza topping, not Seven of Nine throwing herself at his best friend.

That produced a rather literal image of Seven landing in a crumpled heap at Tom’s feet. Harry wondered if he was quietly going insane…

There was a pause as she considered this. Turning to him she nodded approvingly. "Thank you, Ensign."

"Any time, Seven." Although he didn’t mean that, didn’t mean it all, in fact wondered what had possessed him to say it.

With a last smile in her direction, he exited the lift.

He’d never be able to have a decent fantasy again.