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“Hello Commander.”
Giving Ensign Tanner a small wave, he can't help but grin as he makes his way down the corridor. Ensign Tanner is the third person he has seen in so many hours where he seemed to be more at ease with their new life in the Delta Quadrant. Earlier, he had seen one of his former Maquis officers whistling as he stepped off the turbolift, a pair of science officers laughing at a joke and the couple, whom he had caught making out in the turbolift, walking to the mess hall hand in hand.
Stopping when he reaches the Captain’s quarters, he presses the chime. As he waits for an answer, he can’t help but to think back to the last time he had been in there.
“You can stay.”
A small, tingling sensation runs down his spine at the image of her in her bed; her soft bedroom eyes, the way her robe fell off her shoulder, the loose tendrils of her hair framing her face. Sometimes, when it’s late and he can’t fall asleep, he thinks about that night, about what would have happened if he did decide to stay.
Shaking himself from his thoughts when the door opens, he takes a timid step in and looks around to find her.
"I shall be with you in a moment, Commander,” her voice calls out from beyond the wall to her bedroom.
Standing at attention, his hands firmly holding the weekly department reports behind his back, he waits for her to join him. After a few seconds, however, he finds himself at ease and studying the items on her shelves, curious as to what type of personal effects she likes to show the world. Next to a golden instrument attached to a wooden box, he sees quite a few photographs; the one he had seen previously with her sister, a younger Kathryn with what he assumes is her family in front of a lake, another one with her family in the snow, Kathryn in a formal gown playing with two puppies on the ground, and her in the same gown standing next to a man with golden brown hair who looks quite at home in his tuxedo. Focusing on the last photograph, he assumes by the way they have their arms wrapped around each other that the man in the photograph is Mark. They look quite handsome together , he can’t help but to think. She looks so happy.
“What can I do for you, Commander?”
Her commanding voice jolts him out of his thoughts. Slightly shaking his head, he turns to face her with a coy smile. “I was just… uhhh…” Oh, shit. He feels his cheeks flush at the sight of her in black athletic leggings and a bright blue tank top. “Here are the weekly department reports,” he mumbles as he holds out the PADD. “I had meant to drop it off when you were in your ready room, but Mr. Tuvok had informed me that you had left for the evening.”
“Thank you, Commander.” She takes the thin device from him and places it on the dining table. “I was most interested in the metallurgical report when we had…”
Whatever else she is saying falls on deaf ears as his eyes follow along the sway of her hips, the tightness of her leggings showing every savory curve. He’s caught himself many times before staring at her, his eyes attracted to her magnetic presence, the sharp edges of her uniform softening against the gentle waves of her body. She’s got a beautiful body – damn, do I know it – but it’s at times like these where he desperately wants to explore it, to venture and memorize every peak, every valley.
“Commander!” She lifts his chin with the tip of her finger. “I'm up here.”
Shit! The cold sting of embarrassment grinds against his stomach, his apology on the tip of his tongue, yet he stops just as he sees a slow grin blossoming across her lips. “You can't blame a guy for looking,” he slyly smiles. He revels in the way the tip of her finger burns into his skin, her cool blue eyes slanted in a sultry gaze as if she is thinking of something naughty. That’s one of the things that attracted him to her, the openness of her expressions.
Perhaps sensing this, she hardens her features and draws her hand away. “I was just about to have a quick snack.”
“Hmm.” The silence between them sizzles with words that are not being said, their bodies close enough for him to feel the heat radiating for her, yet he doesn’t back away, not when he can see her fingers fidgeting between them.
He nearly moans out loud when she subtly bites down on her bottom lip. “Would you like to join me?”
“To do what?” His words come out as thick as honey, his focus solely on her bottom lip. There are so many things – many, many things – that we would like to do with her.
Her pouty lips part. “You said that you would give me time.”
Blinking several times, he takes a deep breath to help himself to focus on the person in front of him rather than the parts of her he would love to explore. “Just not forever.” His smile is warm when she nods. “I should leave.”
“No.” She grabs his arm as he takes a step towards the door. “You’re right.” When her sparkling blue sapphire eyes timidly meet his own, a cozy feeling of familiarity heats their connection and envelopes him as if it were a warm welcoming hug. “Have dinner with me.”
It’s more of a command rather than a question, however he will gladly take an invitation no matter how she gives it to him. “Okay.”
Quietly giggling under her breath, she turns away from him and makes her way to the replicator. “Anything specific you have in mind?”
Again, with his attention on a certain curve, he brashly murmurs, “Many,” before he can stop himself.
When she abruptly turns back to him, he lifts his chin and gives her a complacent smile at her furrowed brow. “You know, you are not as smooth as you think when you do that while we are on duty.”
He does know that. “But, yet, you continue to lean over the railing.”
Her waist catches her fist. “So, you are blaming me for your wandering eyes.”
“As the mating behavior expert, I believe it is my duty to observe all lifeforms who mate, that includes humanoid species.”
It’s utter bullshit, but it, thankfully, gets her to smile. “You are incorrigible.” Playfully rolling her eyes, she orders roasted vegetables with chickpeas and couscous and places their steaming plates on the table.
“You gave me the title, Kathryn.” He settles in the chair opposite of her. “I feel as if it is my duty to continue to observe and, if necessary, practice all that I am learning.” Giving her a sly smile, dimples and all, he goes in for the flirty kill. “That is the marking of a good scientist.”
At that, she laughs out loud. “Never would I have imagined when I saw you on the viewscreen for the first time, scowling at me, that you would have embraced the title ‘Mating Behavior Expert’.”
“Truly, it’s a hidden talent.” A zing of confidence rushes through his spine when she quietly laughs under her breath. “I’ll be happy to share with you all of my empirical data, in person, of course.”
“Of course.” Her eyes sparkle with mirth.
“In all honesty,” he leans in slightly and murmurs, “it’s quite exhilarating.”
Tipping her head to the side, the tip of her tongue wets her top lip as she slowly draws her eyes down the lines of his body. “You are so sure of that.”
His chest tightens at her throaty words. “I’m not afraid to explore and to… how do scientists phrase it?” His grin stretches across his cheeks when her eyes dart down to her glass table just in time to see him widening his knees. “Oh yeah, I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty. Practice does make one perfect.”
Slowly drawing her eyes back up to him, a mischievous smile unfurls and blossoms. “You play dirty.”
“I call it flirting.”
“I hate to state the obvious, however neither of us are getting any younger.”
“What a coincidence,” he reaches across the table to touch the tips of her fingers, “I was just about to say the same thing.”
“And you would not easily tire from your research?” One of her fingers slips out from his and draws a lazy line along his nail.
Confidence, once again, ignites in the pit of his belly from her small touch. Threading his fingers through hers, their palms lightly kiss. “I assure you that I will be able to perform at maximum efficiency.”
“Hmm.” She stares at their combined hands, her cheeks lightly flushed under the soft lights of her quarters. After a moment, she gives him a gentle squeeze before pulling away. “Let us eat before our food gets cold.”
“Okay,” he smiles before picking up his fork.
As a comfortable silence envelopes them, he steals a few half hidden glances her way, quietly taking in her beauty. She's gorgeous, unconventional, and strong as hell with a sharp tongue to boot . He thinks back on the different moments that have brought them to this point; their inevitable meeting, their earlier dinners, their endless flirting both in private and in public, ‘you can stay’ . He always comes back to that one night, that one moment that had the power to alter their relationship.
My answer would not have changed . He shoves a piece of carrot to the side. If we are to truly make this work, then I can’t fuck it up by making rash decisions.
The use of her own words surprises him. Glancing up, he notices that she is just as lost in her thoughts as he is.
Looking back down at his plate, he thinks back to what his life was like just a mere year ago. He sought revenge with a veracity that would never appease his appetite for violence. In the Alpha Quadrant, he relied heavily on his vengeance, never settling, never quitting, never allowing himself a moment to be at ease. Even when he was with a woman, he never allowed himself to relax. We fucked and then I left. On the one rare occasion that he allowed a woman to warm his own bed, she took advantage of it.
Shoving a few more forkfuls of food in to help push the image of that one woman from his mind, he looks at her and mumbles, “Thank you.”
“You don’t like carrots.”
He glances at her plate to see that it is completely clean. “You don’t like leola root.”
She rolls her eyes. “No one likes leola root.” Bracing her elbows on the table, she rests her chin on her clasped fingers. “Secretly, I don’t think even Neelix likes leola root.”
He leans forward and matches her stance, the tension that was amiable while they were eating now oozing with anticipation. “What are your plans for the rest of the evening?”
“Working out,” she sullenly quips with the upturn of her nose. “You?”
“A quiet night for me,” he replies with the innocent flick of his brow.
She tips her head to the side. “No research?”
His smile widens. “You just said that you will be working out.”
“I’m sure there are others on this ship that can help.”
It’s a challenge. Can I bed any woman I want on this ship? Of course. Do I want to? He allows his eyes to roam along the curves of her body. No. “Anyone else would skew my data. I am nothing if not a perfectionist when it comes to something as essential as that.”
She smiles but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Why me?”
Again, she is challenging him, but he won’t falter or back down. “I enjoy your company. I told you many times before that I can be myself around you and I find that comforting.” He straightens his back and allows his hands to rest on the table. “I… I didn’t have something like this in the Alpha Quadrant and, now that it is within my grasp, I want to pursue it.”
“There is no one else wh–”
“No.”
She stares at him with an imperceptible frown, almost expecting him to squirm or to stumble around as if he is lying. When he does neither, she relaxes her shoulders. “Ensign Wildman just informed me that she is pregnant.”
Pure joy fills his heart. “The first child to be born on Voyager!” He can feel his cheeks stretch all the way to his eyes. “What a blessing.”
He notices, however, that she does not share his joy, at least not as genially as he. “It is.”
His smile falters as he sees her true feelings reflecting in her porous eyes. “You're not happy?”
“It is…,” she takes a shaky breath. “It is unexpected, more than anything. Ensign Wildman assures me that both her and the baby are doing well.” She presses her lips against her knuckles, her mind in deep thought. “Now I understand Captain Picard’s trepidation with caring for children on the Enterprise.”
He doesn’t understand. “How so?”
“I'm responsible for the life of that child. It is up to me to make sure that Ensign Wildman and her baby will wake up to see another day, to make it home so that the child can meet their father.” Glancing up, she looks at something over his shoulder. “The responsibility of caring for a child is daunting to say the least. If something were to happen, if I make one wrong decision…” She closes her eyes and shivers. “I don't know if I could live with myself if something were to happen to the child.”
The idea of a loss of life, especially one as innocent as Ensign Wildman’s unborn child, is a burden he’s never had to contend with when he served with Starfleet or the Maquis. “In my limited time of knowing you, there is no doubt in my mind that you will protect that child as if she were your own.” After a small pause, he promises, “We all will. It is not a burden you will carry on your own.”
Reaching out, she places her hand over his. “Thank you.”
Lifting his palm, their fingers tangle together. It has only happened a few times, but he finds that he likes holding her hand. It grounds him and gives him a rush of confidence all in one. “Have you given any more thought to us?”
“Us? As in…,” she gives their clasped hands a pointed look, “us?”
“Yes.” His stomach nervously twists into a tight knot. “You, me, us, together.”
“I have thought about it once or twice.” She tries to sound nonchalant, yet he can see past it, especially when she bites down on her bottom lip.
“And?” He encourages her with a gentle squeeze of her hand.
“And…,” she stutters, “and I just need some time.”
There are a lot of words he can use to describe her, yet timid is never one he thought he would use. “You’ve been flirting with me all day.”
Her brow furrows, “So you asking about a fraternization policy, that was for what? Shits and giggles?”
He gives her a coy smile. There’s that fighter. “Just seeing where you stand.” At the flick of her disbelieving brow, he explains, “If you are for the policy, then I would know where you stand with us seeing each other privately and would be content with being your friend. If you were ambivalent to the policy, then I would know that you were interested in researching mating behaviors with me.”
She lets out a small laugh. “You are never going to let go of that one, are you?”
“Never.” Despite her attempt to stall, he continues to look at her expectantly.
“Where do you think I stand?”
Her little diversions are starting to drive him crazy, yet he stands his ground. He knew going into this, she would put up resistance. He is willing to take their time, but at this point they are damn near going backwards. “Where do you stand?”
Perhaps sensing that he is not going to put up with her tactics, she takes a deep breath. “I… I keep teetering.” She tips her head side to side. “I'm not ready to have sex with you, but I do like spending time with you. I don't know…” She runs the edge of her nail along his finger. “I'm being too analytical. If my sister were here, she would have smashed our heads together until we started kissing on our own accord.”
He laughs under his breath. Brashness and stubbornness must run in the family . “You've got to be comfortable in your decision. All I ask is for you to be honest with me.” When he sees that she is looking at something over his shoulder, he asks, “What about Mark?
She sighs as if she had asked herself the same question. “If we had had sex tonight and gotten home through a miraculous and extremely stable wormhole tomorrow, he would understand my decision to seek out your companionship.” Her eyes furrow in defeat. “He had always been understanding anytime I had strayed.”
Now, he does find that as a surprise. He had always imagined her as stubbornly committed in anything and everything she touches; their journey through the Delta Quadrant the exception where compromises are needed in order to survive.
“He would understand this, us.” She abruptly pulls her hand away from him. “Possibly would even use one of those terms he uses with his patients, but it would hurt him.”
“Did he forgive you?”
“Every single time,” she grits through her teeth, self-hatred bitterly settling upon her shoulders. “What?” Her gaze is piercing, accusatory. “Did you just realize that I'm not the perfect Starfleet legacy as everyone perceives me to be?”
“It just reaffirms that you are as human as any other person on this ship. You are not the first person to stray on a mission and you wouldn't be the last.”
“Why? Do you have a wife or fiancé back home? Did you ever have to tell the person that you love that you allowed another person to touch you all for the sake of a good fuck?” Her harsh accusatory tone cuts through the air as she crosses her arms tightly along her chest.
He cringes at her words. Thinking back, he knows that what he had said sounded conceited and patronizing. “I'm sorry.” She stares him down with her cool blue icicles, yet, he doesn't waver, not even in the slightest.
She lets her tense shoulders fall just a bit. “Maybe what I fear most is that you will see me as how I see myself.” She swallows hard. “There is a lot of road between here and Earth. We can't afford to fall apart and hate each other.”
Hence why she doesn’t want to fuck it up. “After getting to know you for the past year, I don't think I can hate you with as much passion as you have found to hate yourself. But, I promise to be honest with you.” A stifling silence falls between them as she stares at her fidgeting fingers. Knowing that they both need to get out from under the heaviness of their conversation, he softly calls out to her, “Can I ask you a question that has nothing to do with our conversation?”
Startled, she snaps her head up with wide eyes to match her dazed expression. She clearly did not expect him to say that and he is glad for it.
“What is this thing behind me?” He throws his thumb over his shoulder towards the shelves he was admiring earlier. “The wooden box with the golden horn.”
Tilting her head to the side to get a better look, she slowly replies, “It's called a gramophone. It was used in the late 19th to mid 20th century as a way to hear music.” She straightens back in her chair as a genuine smile begins to blossom along her cheeks. “My daddy got it for me when I was accepted into the Academy.”
“That’s an unusual gift.”
“He loved music.”
While he would like to know more about her father, he feels as if they have had their fill of heavy conversations for the night. “How does it work?”
Getting up from her chair, she carefully gathers the gramophone from the shelf and places it in front of him. “This one is a replica,” she murmurs as she plucks a flat, square package from a padded case. “When these first came out, it caused such a craze because people were able to hear music for the first time.”
“Sounds like a wild time.” He points to the package. “What is this?”
“It’s called a record.” She pulls out a black disc. “Music was recorded on this and you used the gramophone or record player to play it.”
He tips his head to the side and reads the case the record came in. “‘The Great Otis Redding Sings Soul Ballads’.” He doesn’t have the foggiest idea as to who Otis Redding is or what constitutes a soul ballad, but he likes that he can see excitement returning back to Kathryn’s eyes. “What a party animal.”
She tilts her chin towards him, their lips mere inches from each other. “You are going to eat your words when you hear this record.”
He can feel his smile reach all the way to his eyes. “I look forward to it.”
Slightly blushing, she places all of her focus back onto the machine in front of her. “You start by placing the record on the table. Since this is a machine and not reliant on electricity, typically, one would need to wind it up to make the table move. Since this is a replica, I just have to turn it on.” She pushes a button and the table begins to spin on its own. “Then you take the arm and place it on the edge of the record.” Instantly a stringed instrument plays through the bell followed by, who he assumes, is Otis Redding.
He finds it slightly ironic that the first song she plays for him is a love song, yet by the time the chorus hits, he knows that this will be his favorite record. “I am officially eating my words.”
She playfully hits his shoulder with the back of her hand. “I told you.” Closing her eyes, she slightly sways to the beat.
A warmth that he had never experienced before, spreads along the width of his chest at the sight of Kathryn thoroughly enjoying herself. Standing from his chair, he extends his hand and murmurs, “May I?”
Opening her eyes, she glances down at his hand then back up at him before accepting his hand. He pulls her into his embrace and sways in time with the song, his hand cradling the small of her back while her arm wraps under his arm and settles on his shoulder. A sensual heat simmers between their bodies as electricity sparks wildly when their hips collide in rhythm.
For two songs, the music hazily plays in the background as their feelings are silently discussed through their dancing eyes. As the third song begins to play, he pulls her closer into his body and smoothly glides his thumb from their combined hands along her jaw. “This is the best record I have ever heard.”
Her eyes dart down to his lips and then back up. “I'm willing to bet this is the only record you have ever heard.”
Feeling his skin erupt as her fingers stretch towards the tiny hairs along the back of his neck, he whispers, “Guilty,” before closing the magnetizing space between their lips.
The constant strum of time stops as their lips finally meet with no interruptions from the world outside.
Pressing his palm flat against her back, he abandons dancing altogether as the edge of his fingers caress down the line of her jaw. Her lips, soft and supple just as he had imagined them to be, greets his neediness with full force. He damn near growls when she opens her mouth to him, her fingernails now scratching down the side of his neck.
Their kiss – fuuuuck, this beautiful kiss – is messy and magnetic and just about damn perfect. He wants to stay like this forever; arms tangled around each other, their kiss as new as the next day, Otis Redding singing in the background; yet his body – our bodies – desperately want more.
Fuck it all to hell…
Sliding his hand down the curve of her back, he bunches her shirt within his hand as two fingers stretch out to touch her impossibly soft skin. I want her. His primal thought is heavily punctuated by the delicious moan he feels vibrating against his lips, her hips pressing against his own.
Just as he pushes her against the table, she tears her lips away. Resting his forehead against hers to keep their sultry connection alive, they both try to catch their collective breaths, their fingers motionless, yet their arms still tangled around the other. Just as Otis is singing about wanting to be the one and only man, she gives him a quick peck on the lips before taking a step to the side.
Not wanting to disentangle himself from her just yet, he holds onto her hand tightly and kisses her knuckles.
“I knew you would like Otis Redding.” He glances up from over the curves of her knuckles to see her coyly grinning.
“It is easily my favorite record.”
Her brow lifts in mock surprise. “Really?”
He innocently shrugs his shoulders. “It’s a great record to makeout to.”
Throwing her head back, her laughter fills the room. “It is a great album to do many things with.” Her eyes twinkle as they bore into him, almost daring him to ask her what she means. Just as he is about to ask, she gruffly adds, “I'm so glad that you are not a sloppy kisser.”
Being doused under the warmth of endless possibilities, he pulls her hand and takes a step closer to her.
Stopping him with her palm to his chest, she takes an equal step back. “We need to make some rules with this.”
The heat from her palm makes its way to his heart, which does nothing to quiet his desire to explore every inch of her. “What do you mean?”
Squeezing his hand, she pulls completely away from him. “We need some things in place to help safeguard against having this,” she waves her hand between their bodies, “go to shit in a handbag.”
Instantly missing the touch of her soft skin, he would literally agree to anything just to have her back in his arms. Perhaps this is why this has the possibility of being dangerous. Taking a shaking breath to help clear his mind, he turns so that he is standing next to her. “I'm assuming you don't want me pulling you into a dance on the bridge?”
“Among other things.” She reaches behind her to turn off the gramophone. He finds himself missing the cadence of Otis Redding’s soothing voice. “There are others though.”
“Such as?”
“Such as keeping both your hands and your goo-goo eyes to yourself.”
Feeling a bubble of laughter rising through his chest, begging to break the tension between them, he tries to ask with a straight face, “Goo-goo eyes?”
Crossing her arms along her chest, she smirks, “Yes. There are times where I catch you looking at me as if you want to devour me in the most satisfying way possible.”
Tilting his chin towards her, his smile quirks. “That’s because I do want to devour you.” His eyes drop to see goosebumps erupting along her skin. “And it will be extremely satisfying.”
Biting down on her bottom lip, he literally has to dig his heels into the ground to keep him rooted. “No one can know about this.”
A bucket of cold water splashes down upon his head. While he does not like keeping secrets, he can understand her hesitancy to share this with anyone. She is naturally a private person, how can I fault her for wanting to keep this quiet. “Okay. Beyond these doors, we are the Captain and Commander, respectively. Yet, the moment the doors close to either of our quarters, we can leave our rank and be just Kathryn and Chakotay.”
Holding up a finger, she quickly adds, "If at all possible, we should plan when we meet. I don’t want this to take us away from our main objective.”
“Of course.”
“Nothing dubious on your part.”
He lifts his brow in surprise. “Now that's one thing no one has ever accused me of.”
“I was always under the assumption that the Maquis operated best under the security of anonymity and secrecy.”
“For us as a whole to be successful at keeping the Cardassian offensive at bay, we relied on anonymity and secrecy, yet my personal stance against the Cardassians and the subsequent violence we had to use was always straight forward from me. I have never pretended to be someone I'm not.”
Nodding, she sends them back into a more comfortable silence.
After a few minutes of charged glances and hidden smiles, he claps his hands together and finally asks, “So, can we make out now?”
She laughs under her breath and shakes her head. “No.”
He’s not upset, nor is he surprised. In all honesty, he is just happy to see her laughing, some of the stress that had been building upon her shoulders weakening. “You can't blame a guy for trying.” Pushing himself off of the table, he gives her a slight bow. “I have to get going.”
She straightens her back. “Yeah, there’s that workout and the report you just gave me.”
“You will be happy with the metallurgical report.”
She squints her eyes in suspicion. “I thought you weren’t listening.”
“I listened to the first part, but nothing else after that.”
“I, umm, I am glad we got a few things settled.”
Nodding his head in confirmation, he puckers his lips and sternly reiterates, “Right, no goo-goo eyes and I'm a decent kisser.” A strong smile blossoms across his cheeks, “I say it's been a good day.” He slightly bows his head before turning towards the door.
“Chakotay,” she calls out to him before he can open the door.
Turning towards her with a smug smile. “Yes, Kathryn?”
“Let’s not negate the fact that for the first time, we were not interrupted with ship’s business.”
“Let’s not negate the fact that we learned a lot about each other tonight.”
Her brow flicks up in amusement. “You now have a favorite record.”
“You now know how seriously I take my research into mating behaviors.”
Crumpling into a fresh round of giggles, she playfully rolls her eyes. “Get out of here, you rascal.”
A crooked smile plays along his lips as he reaches out for the release button to the door. “Have a good evening.”
“Don't worry,” he hears her murmur a millisecond before the door opens. “I will,” she finishes just as the bright lights from the corridor shine onto his face.