Title: Benefits of Daydreaming

Author: skadoo

Series: Star Trek: Voyager

Disclaimer: I don't own them and I make no profit from this. These characters are wholly owned by Paramount who cheated us out of a Voyager Movie. Grrr.

Rating: K+

Summary: The Command Team is having dinner on the mess deck and reviewing reports when Chakotay is caught daydreaming.

Feedback: Is always appreciated, please read and review each story you read on FFN.

Author's Note: Thank you to Mrs. Singing Violin for her duties as Beta, this fic evolved over several drafts. If you find mistakes they're entirely my fault since I sometimes make changes after she does her magic.


It was the end of the month, and both the ship's captain and executive officer were running short on replicator rations. For once, Chakotay didn't have any extra to share and wasn't even sure he'd have enough for his basic needs without having to stomach a few servings of Neelix's culinary creations.

One too many xenophobic aliens and red alerts through this region of space: we've been living on caffeine. Not to mention I've been trading rations for extra holodeck time to spend with Kathryn. Maybe we can hope for a little peace and quiet for a while? At least until we have more rations for caffeine.

They were sitting at 'their table' on the mess deck having dinner and reviewing various departmental reports. The table was located at the extreme corner, away from the everyday hustle and bustle as well as curious musings from some of the other tables. After almost seven years in the Delta Quadrant, everyone on the ship thought of it as 'their table' since it's where they headed first when they ate together on the mess deck. Consequently, it was always available when they came traipsing in to grab a bite to eat, and the tables nearby were usually populated by those most interested in feeding ship's gossip.

Since he was sitting in a rather public space, he was careful how much free reign he gave his thoughts. As he glanced at the intensely boring report from Astrometrics, he found himself daydreaming of the two of them alone in a purely domestic setting. No red alerts, no hostile aliens, no malfunctioning gel packs, no endless stacks of reports to read. Well, there'd still be home repairs to make, bills to pay, errands to run, noses to wipe. He smiled broadly at the idea. Children with her and a thoroughly ordinary life...but then, when has she ever been ordinary? He was craving the occasional fits of routine inflicted on those who didn't live in hostile regions of space and not tense boredom sandwiched in between alien conflicts and hostilities. He imagined the two of them on a lazy Saturday morning, with an edible breakfast, cups of coffee, and the sounds of kids playing streaming in from the backyard.

She absentmindedly took a bite to eat as she finished one report and grabbed her own copy of the Astrometrics report. Whatever this is, it's a bit chewy... She shoved it around her plate with her fork. …rubbery and just a little bit disgusting. She made a face and sighed. Maybe I can just eat quickly, wash it down with the coffee, and try not to really taste it. I don't have the rations to indulge in a midnight snack later. She was successful in not wincing before she tried to consume another large forkful. Wish we were back on earth; maybe we could talk about adjusting some of those parameters. What does he say: I shouldn't sacrifice the present for a future that might never come? But I know we will get home: can you wait for me? She glanced up briefly and noticed the smile on his face. Huh, apparently there must be a lot of efficiencies to be found in Astrometrics. That sure is a big grin. Dimples are out in full force this evening! She took advantage of the moment by trying to surreptitiously watch him. She wasn't successful for long.

He realized he'd been shamelessly wool gathering and looked up to ask her a question about the report.

She gave him a small half-smile when she realized she'd been busted staring at him.

He started to speak, but instead gazed into her blue-grey eyes. I would be happy if I could wake up to those eyes and that smile for the rest of my life.

Instead of the question about the planetary system mentioned in the report, he said, "Marry me." He was flummoxed at what he said out loud. To think of asking her here: am I crazy? Possessed by aliens? Delusional? He was sure that he was all three.

She managed to croak out, "What?" before choking on the mouthful she'd been dutifully chewing.

There was an uncharacteristic lull in conversation on the mess deck.

In for a penny, in for a pound. He almost knocked his plate over in a rush to grab her hand and drop down on one knee before her. Besides, the beds in the brig aren't all that bad. He raised his voice before stating, "You heard me, Kathryn Janeway. Will you marry me?"

He was getting concerned at her continued coughing. Instead of a response from her what he got instead was a shocked utterance from his other best friend. "That's not funny!" Did I just lose the betting pool?

He turned to look towards B'Elanna, "Good, because I'm not joking." He turned back toward his beloved, hoping he'd get the answer he needed.

Tom drawled, "Shotgun wedding?" before he realized the severity of the situation.

Kathryn couldn't respond to either question because she was too busy coughing. She snatched her hand out of Chakotay's loose grasp to place it at the base of her neck and stood up away from the table.

Just a little bit frantic and wide-eyed, he asked, "Kathryn, do you need some water? Can you breathe?"

The captain ignored her would-be-rescuer and tried to incinerate the pilot with her death glare but was completely unsuccessful as the commander grabbed her. He began a series of back blows, in rhythm with her coughing, to dislodge what was in her windpipe.

Better safe than sorry. The sometime-medic slapped his comm badge, "Medical emergency. Two to beam to Sickbay. Lock on Commander Chakotay's signal." Besides, I'm sure she doesn't want to answer that question in front of the crew.

Just before the transporter grabbed them in a tingle of blue light, the offending bit went sailing out of Kathryn's throat and splashed wetly onto the back of Ensign Thompson's head.

They managed to complete a beam out to Sickbay just a fraction of a second before they had to suffer the consequences of the food fight that subsequently erupted on the mess deck.

==/\==

As the Doctor briskly examined his patient, Chakotay explained his successful attempt to alleviate her choking spell.

"I think Mr. Paris may have been a bit overzealous." The EMH turned off the tricorder and set it down. He noted that Janeway was leaning against the commander with her head upon his chest while Chakotay had his arm wrapped around her shoulders. "Captain, you're fine. Commander, I congratulate you on your prompt action." The captain made the mistake of letting the Doctor lead her away from Chakotay and into a chair. He promptly began lecturing her haughtily. "I suggest you masticate more thoroughly from now on and not rush through your meal. Ten chews before swallowing should be about right. Digestion is aided when one takes the time to observe the proper dining etiquette. A meal should be savored and not rushed…"

==/\==

Chakotay walked her towards her quarters, aware that he couldn't possibly be contrite enough. I'm sorry, Kathryn. I shouldn't let my daydreams get the best of me. Did I really propose to her out loud… on the mess deck of all places? I should have taken her sailing on Lake George...again. But after seven years it sure feels like we've been dating. I'd hoped you would realize I've stepped up my wooing these last few months. Paris noticed... heck, even the Doctor noticed.

Kathryn keyed in her access code and stepped into her quarters, motioning for him to step in. Maybe all I needed was for him to push the issue a little bit, even if his timing was off. Push a little bit! A marriage proposal is huge… although everyone already assumes that, by now, we're involved. At times, it does feel like we are. Does he know that sometimes, before I'm fully awake, I reach out and expect him to be there? Then I awake to self-inflicted parameters…

As the silence between them continued, he realized that he needed to apologize as well as let her know about some of the rumors already running rampant throughout the ship.

"Captain, I'm sorry… I guess that was a little out of the blue. But I'm afraid that…"

She put her hand up to his lips. "You just caught me by surprise earlier. It's not like we've been dating, exactly. Even if I have noticed the changes these last few months. I'd like a chance to answer." I've had such poor luck with fiancés: I'm tempted to say we shouldn't do this; I don't want to lose him completely. But then again, a sample size of two isn't statistically significant, though there still could be an effect...

He looked at her nervously. I have to beg for forgiveness and publicly apologize. Oh, and squash Paris's betting pool... again.

"I just wanted to say…" She tucked her hair behind her ears and closed her eyes. But can I do this and maintain my focus to get this crew home? It's what I want. I'm not sure, but yeah, I think... To hell with protocol and parameters! I would be crazy to say anything else besides… "Yes." When she opened her eyes, she thought his luminescence could light the way home.

He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her softly, almost reverently.

Their moment of happiness was almost spoiled when she started to squirm, "Wait, we can't do this!"

He stubbornly refused to let her out of his embrace. "What do you mean? He just about purred into her ear, "Do you want me to stop doing this? Or maybe this… or how about this…?"

She chuckled when she realized she was putty in his hands and let her own hands and lips explore a little bit. "It's just that I've had such horrible luck with fiancés. Accepting your proposal is like dooming us…you to some horrible fate."

He smiled, "I've been doomed since the day I stepped into your presence. What are you advocating? Something more casual? And I thought I knew you," he teased. "You know, if we rush this they're going to, well… to borrow a phrase from Mr. Paris, think I've knocked you up."

She wrapped her hands around his neck and leaned in, the look in her eyes unmistakable, "Not yet."