Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Warning: Slash. f/f this time. Not at all explicit.
Author's Note: Thank you Adenil for the idea! I read your J/7 story and loved it, so I wrote the beginning of one of my own. Probably won't finish it though.
Disapproval
Chapter One: That Catsuit
As Janeway surveyed the bridge from the turbolift, all officers working efficiently and quietly at their consoles, her gaze snagged on Seven of Nine, and she was struck with a recurring ambivalence. Janeway looked her up and down critically. Why did she have to wear that catsuit all the time? It caught the eye, drew it there and there and Janeway had noticed some of the men on crew being drawn, some with eloquent gestures of the eye, raised eyebrow a testament to their bemused appreciation; some with discreet sidelong appraisals, barely noticeable but to the careful observer. Janeway had to keep her crew alert; distraction was no good; they couldn't be thinking about Seven's sweet contours and hollows all the time, nor anyone else's, for that matter…but somehow, she never managed to make that private appointment with the woman, to tell her a change in uniform was in order; besides, Seven's manner was icy enough not to invite such thoughts overmuch.
Except in Janeway's own mind, of course. Kathy, she had told herself when she first saw the Borg woman, this is going to be a hard one to swallow. And she'd been right. Despite careful training of her mind and heart over the years not to develop crushes on fellow crew members, to repress sudden feelings of fondness for superior officers, to at least avoid following these flutterings to their logical conclusion, fraternization among officers being bad for morale when the relationship soured (as it always did, eventually), not to mention the personal messiness for which Janeway harbored a sensible distaste; but this time, her control had slipped. As was evident in Seven's continued use of the catsuit. Janeway knew that her little indulgence had been remarked on with surprise by some of the crew, who apparently had expected her to tell Seven off for her wardrobe choices (as if the woman knew enough about any of it to be blamed, poor naïve girl); but Janeway pretended not to hear, and allowed Seven to display her form as she liked. A vague but persistent nagging remained, but it was too trivial an issue for her to care. Seven was too pretty.