Chakotay materialized in front of the apartment. He turned the knob and entered. "I'm home!" He yelled.
"Finally!" Kathryn's voice came from the direction of the living room. "I've been waiting to brew coffee for hours now." Her voice was tinged with annoyance.
"I know you're just annoyed because I had to work late today. Besides, I know damn well that you'd never wait for a cup of coffee." He walked down the hallway and into the living room. There, on the couch, was Kathryn Janeway. She looked guilty as she tried to hide an almost full cup of coffee.
"You know me so well. I mean, it's not like we spent seven years in the Delta Quadrant. That would be wild." They both burst into laughter.
"Come on, I'll make dinner tonight. But only if you promise not to 'help.'"
"Oh, come on. It wasn't that bad last time!"
"Well, the pasta wasn't half bad, but I can't say the same for the potatoes…" He grinned at her. "Come on, whaddya say we each take part in preparing dinner. You get to set the table, I get to cook the food."
She rolled her eyes, exasperated. "Fine. If I ever catch you insulting my cooking again, I'll have you sent off to the Delta Quadrant quicker than you can say 'leola root.'"
They started to laugh all over again. Chakotay was the first to recover his composure, and he offered a hand out to Kathryn to help her up. "Alright, ma'am. I'll make sure to watch my tongue and watch the stove, too."
"Oh shut up!" She punched him lightly in the arm but still took his hand. These were the moments she lived for, the ones that they couldn't have onboard the ship. "I'll make a fresh cup of coffee for you. If there's one thing I can prepare correctly, it's coffee." She finished the sentence with an eye-roll that had been perfected over the years.
They fell into a harmonious rhythm, Chakotay preparing the meal, and Kathryn manipulating the french press with ease. To any outsider, it was clear that they did this often, and loved every second of it.
After the meal was finished and they had both eaten their share, they moved to the living room area. They assumed their normal position. Chakotay, on the couch, and Kathryn, laying down with her head in his lap. Then they recounted the day's events. Many people would find this routine repetitive and boring, but it never was for them. After being forced to withhold their feeling for each other in the Delta Quadrant, they had an appreciation for the small, mundane things.
"And so there I am, in the middle of a meeting, being told that I, and I quote, "Wouldn't understand a topic like this."" Kathryn gestured into the air with annoyance. "I almost stood up and slapped him."
"But you didn't, right?"
"Of course not. I'm too professional for that." Her hands dropped back into her lap. "I just wish that the admirals would pick a side. Either I'm a hero or an inexperienced captain. Not both."
Chakotay ran his hands through her hair. "I'm proud of you Kathy."
"Why?"
"You're under all this stress and not a single gray- hold on, what's this?" He parted her hair and leaned down to inspect it.
"What is it?" There was a sense of urgency in her voice.
"It's a gray hair." Amusement tinged his voice.
"Chakotay." The urgency had been replaced with warning. "Chakotay. My dearest. If you are joking with me, I will personally remove your stuff from the apartment and ship it to the Borg."
"I'm not joking." Chakotay stifled a laugh.
"Fuck."
"Now you have an excuse to retire." He ducked, laughing as she swatted at him.
"Don't talk to me that way, Mister "Salt-n-Pepper since I was 40.""
"No reason to be rude, now!" He said, mock offense written across his face. "Besides, I make it work!"
Her face softened. "That you do." She sat up to kiss him, a smile on her face as well as his. The kiss they shared was filled with love, platonic, romantic, and otherwise. Any person who didn't know them would assume that this kiss was special, one-of-a-kind. But, between them, every kiss held this much meaning. A kiss between soulmates would always be special.