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It turns out he has a special flair for birthdays.
Because of course he does.
*
She awakens snuggled in the usual rich warmth of his embrace, but the light is wrong and she knows instantly it’s way later than the wake up time she’d set. She begins to struggle her way out of bed, hating to be late, the worst offense against her professional pride she can imagine.
But her movement makes him stir against her, his hand sliding from where it rests on her hip, slipping down with shivery deliciousness to draw her into closer entanglement with him still, his other hand caressing her hair to the side to allow him access to that one exquisite pulse point on her neck. “Stand down, Admiral,” he breathes against her skin, making every tiny hair on her neck stand upright, every cell in her body sizzle and strain in almost unbearable delight. “Your morning schedule’s been cleared."
"Stand down? You're really going to order me to stand down?" she manages to croak out a challenge, even as her traitorous body trembles with desire.
"Lie down, then, Admiral. Lie back," he whispers into the shell of her ear. "Not ordering. Inviting. The only thing you are still slated for is the three o'clock second contact conference. Relax.”
“Mm, well in that case...” she lets herself melt back against him. "A little more first contact before my afternoon second contact. I've been looking forward to that," she confides.
“Happy birthday, Kathryn,” he murmurs.
*
When she next awakens it is with slow luxuriousness. She is so relaxed she can barely open her eyes.
Yet there is the smell of her favourite rich blend of coffee, and yes, there he is standing by her bed with a tray laden with flowers and food and, best of all, her favourite mug full of coffee and a whole carafe more on standby.
“Wait here a minute,” he says as she props herself up to sit against the pillows. He hands her the mug, places the tray on the side table, and he is gone.
Within two minutes he is back with the most adorable little ball of red fur cradled in his hands. He lifts the mug from her hand to entrust the wriggling creature into her waiting arms. “Fourth generation in a direct line from Molly,” he says as the puppy stands on its hind legs to lick at her new human's delighted face. “Happy birthday, Kathryn.”
*
When she arrives home from the very successful, very satisfying second contact she'd hosted, she finds him in the living room playing with the puppy.
He rises to his feet to greet her, and she sees he is all spruced up, clearly ready to go out.
He looks so good, and he smells so good, and his welcome home kiss is so good, and from so good is so rapidly improving even further, and she is all in favour of convincing him to give up on the idea of going out altogether.
But she has only just started unbuttoning his shirt, when he holds her off at arms length. "Oh no, Kathryn! Not yet! Take your time getting ready, there's even a bath waiting for you if you want one, but in just under an hour, almost the entire crew will be assembled and waiting for you in the real Sandrine’s. Tom and B’Elanna, baby Miral, Harry, Seven, the EMH, Ayala, Naomi and Samantha, even Tuvok... They all want to see you, Kathryn, with your hair down, with them but not responsible for them at last. They want to watch you beat all takers at pool, reminisce a little, and maybe even do a little dancing. Would you like that?"
"Oh, yes. More than anything. Well... maybe not anything," she insinuates her way back closer to him to toy with his buttons. "But I suppose that particular anything can wait just a little longer."
*
As they walk hand in hand to the transporter station, the sleeping puppy in a basket on his arm, he asks her, “Have you had a nice birthday so far, Kathryn?"
"I don't think I could wish for a better one. Thank you for organizing it all. I can't believe you were able to get my Starfleet schedule cleared like that."
"They've known for months to leave today free. All your appointments were fake in the first place except the second contact. Starfleet agree you deserve some time to enjoy yourself too."
She bops her shoulder against his arm in mock remonstrance, but her voice is sweet, almost bashful, "Thank you, Chakotay. It's been a perfect day."
"I'm glad. You know, my people have a belief about birthdays.”
“An ancient tradition?” she quirks a skeptical half-smile at him.
“No, actually, it is more of a personal family tradition. We say whatever you do on your birthday sets the tone for the whole coming year. So, you must never cry on your birthday, or you’ll cry all year. Laugh on your birthday and you'll be laughing all year. Working is fine, as long as you do work you love. Most important, you must spend time with those you love. You must find joy in little things, and all that will set the tone for the entire year. This is why, Kathryn, your birthday is so important to me, why your birthday has always been important to me.”
She stops in her tracks and turns to him. "Ha! That might be the least scientific thing I've ever heard." She takes the basket with the sleeping puppy from him and sets it on the ground. "But I like it!"
As she rises on her toes to kiss him, he cups her face in his hands, gazes at her with the deepest adoration, and breathes once more, “Happy birthday, Admiral Janeway.”