HO! HO! HO!
© September 10, 2000
Disclaimer: Voyager belongs to Paramount Pictures. No infringement intended.
HO! HO! HO!
Chakotay held the PADD directly in front of his vision thinking on the matter. Technically it was a Friday night, and, three days away from Christmas. Another Friday night, yep. Another Friday night spent onboard Voyager . . . in his quarters . . . alone.
Setting down the PADD that held the calendar on it, he swallowed a shot of whiskey quickly, throwing back his head to let the hot liquid hit the back of his throat. He didn't so much as grimace as it rolled its way down toward his stomach.
"Why didn't I accept that date with Ensign Blaire Compson?" he asked aloud but already knew the answer to the stupid question. Kathryn.
It had finally hit him, hit him *hard*, the realization at how much that woman directed his life . . . the choices he made . . . how he slept and how he ate '*And,*' he swallowed with effort, '*how I dream.*'
"Computer, increase level of music by four levels," he ordered and he sighed with pleasure as Diana Krull pumped out more of her jazz to fully fill his head and heart with the rhythm of it all.
Kathryn leaned over the PADD more closely, trying to concentrate on Ensign Hicker's Deck 15 Energy Transfer Report. Dragging her hand through the loose ends of her hair she had piled carelessly on top of her head, she closed her eyes with frustration as the music pounded further and further into her living space.
Kathryn had started out her evening, in bed with a cup of coffee and reading reports until she began to be distracted by the slight rhythm of music coming from the wall that sported Chakotay's quarters. Wincing slightly to herself, she took her coffee and the PADDS to retreat to the sofa as not to compromise her work or the Commander's pastime.
But now, now the music had followed her and she wanted to scream. What probably didn't annoy anyone else had always known to annoy her. She wanted peace . . . peace and quiet . . . no music . . . no Seska . . . no Kazon . . . no Delta Quadrant and, well, if she couldn't have the latter three she'd have the first one.
Tossing the PADD roughly against the sofa, she stood "Sorry, Commander, but not tonight!"
It wasn't the first time Chakotay had fallen for a woman who had issues with him. But it was the first time he had fallen for a woman who had shown up, *in sexy, hellcat pajamas*, who had issues with him. It must've been the sturdy, straight-cut Starfleet Uniform, or her strict posture that she commanded on the bridge, and throughout the rest of the ship, that had kept him from noticing *her* . . . Kathryn the woman . . . Kathryn the, uh, sexy woman . . . but he wouldn't fail to notice her again. Not with memories of those pajamas in the corner of his mind.
Kathryn Janeway stood in front of Commander Chakotay, at his door. Her hands were on her hips, her hair was straggling loose on top of her head and her pajamas left little for the imagination to play with.
Chakotay just couldn't ignore the small, grey cotton tank top she was wearing, and the way the fabric stretched across her chest from one breast to the other, or the baggy pair of flannel pajama bottoms that dipped low enough to show her pert little bellybutton . . . but with all of this, he also couldn't ignore the fact that she looked slightly more than frustrated . . . with him. "Captain," Chakotay started.
Kathryn shifted as his gaze raked over her body. '*No doubt, Kathryn you have just lost all respect as a Captain by showing up at his door clad in . . . in . . . tit-a-lating dorm-style pajamas.*' Of course, on the brighter side, she was lucky it hadn't been her peach, silk nightgown that Mark had given her. Mark. Why did Chakotay remind her of him . . . perhaps Chakotay's height was a little different and the build of his body was a bit more toned than Mark's had been . . . but it was just that plain male presence that had fused itself by her side. Few men were capable of accomplishing that with her . . . few even knew it was possible . . . only Mark . . and now . . .
"Chakotay?" she asked. "I understand that we all need some form of release on this ship. I also understand that we suffer from close proximity with one another twenty-four hours a day, but, is there any way --"
He cut her off at the chase, "I could keep my music down? Sure. Guess the 'Friday night syndrome' got the better of me. It'll be quiet now, though."
'*Why did he always have to be so agreeable with these things and never with --*' She cut off the thought, nodding her head, "Thank you." Turning to go, she stopped suddenly and didn't move for a moment.
"Anything else, Captain?" he hadn't moved either. Not until he 'saw her' to the door.
She turned to him, slightly puzzled, her blue eyes focusing on his dark ones, "It's Friday?"
HO! HO! HO!
HO! HO! HO!
HO! HO! HO!