Captain's Log, Supplemental: Astrometric sensors have picked up a supergiant star on the verge of collapse into a white dwarf 10 lightyears away. It's a little out of Voyager's chartered course, so an away team will take the Delta Flyer to observe this phenomenon.
Janeway decided this was too good an opportunity to miss. She'd never seen a supergiant collapse with her own eyes before—or, rather, with her own sensors. Although not a rare phenomenon, she'd never been in the right place at the right time. But all that was about to change.
"Status report."
"Sensors indicate that the collapse will occur in approximately 53.67 minutes, Captain." Seven of Nine was sat rigidly behind the sensor controls, her back straight and her shoulders pushed back. Janeway couldn't help but admire the way her perfect posture accentuated her curves.
Not now, Katie, she thought. She came here to watch the star, not Seven. She could watch Seven whenever she wanted. Not that she did. Often, anyway.
"Lieutenant Paris?" Janeway asked, turning to her pilot.
"Closing now. 1.3 million kilometres out. We'll make it in plenty of time to take some nice scans before the thing collapses."
"What d'you think, Seven?" Janeway asked.
"If Lieutenant Paris means 'precise' by his use of the word 'nice,' I believe he is correct, Captain."
Janeway felt a smile tug at her lips, but she schooled her expression. Tom Paris felt no such compunction and laughed aloud.
"I fail to see what is humorous about this situation, Lieutenant Paris." Seven raised her optical implant. "Explain."
"Oh, don't worry about it, Seven!" Tom waved a dismissive hand. "I'm not sure you'd get it, even if I could explain."
Seven turned to Janeway. "Can you explain it to me, Captain? You appear to be restraining an expression of enjoyment."
Janeway smiled at Seven. "I merely enjoy it when the people around me act in ways unique to their character, as you just did."
"Elaborate."
"Lieutenant Paris was using the word 'nice' in the colloquial sense. He meant it as 'pleasant' or 'lovely' and not the more practical definition."
"I do not see how a scan can be 'pleasant' or 'lovely.'"
"And that," Janeway said, "is where Tom and I find our enjoyment."
"In my lack of comprehension?"
"Errr… yes. Although it seems cruel when you put it like that."
Seven quirked her optical implant and returned her attention back to her sensors.
"300,000 kilometres, Captain," Tom said.
"Excellent," Janeway said rubbing her hands together. She couldn't wait to see what their sensors had to offer.
"The environmental controls appear to be malfunctioning, Captain," Seven reported.
Janeway turned to Seven and saw that her usually cool forehead was beaded with sweat and her cheeks were flushed. She checked the controls in front of her.
"Every thing appears to be functioning within normal parameters."
"Correction, Captain." Seven's words were slurred and sloppy. "I appear to be the one malfunctioning."
Seven's world was spinning. The sensor controls swam before her eyes and her nose was tingling. She blinked and found herself slumped on the floor. Her head throbbed and the heat was unbearable.
She fanned her face with her hand ineffectually. The captain, her beautiful captain, appeared before her. Seven raised her hand towards the captain's face, but her arm wasn't cooperating and she nearly knocked the tricorder out of Janeway's hand. Its blinking lights and beeping increased the throbbing in Seven's head.
"There doesn't seem to be anything wrong with you, Seven." Janeway's mouth tightened in the cute way it always did when she was concentrating and a furrow appeared between her eyebrows. Seven wanted to smooth that crease with her thumb and reached out once more.
"Ouch!"
"Sorry, Captain."
"You just poked me in the eye."
"It was an error. My motor functions are greatly impaired."
"I'm not feeling so good myself," Janeway said and grabbed Seven's shoulder for balance. The skin beneath Janeway's hand, though protected by her biosuit, became almost uncomfortably hot. "I think I'll just sit down."
An arm came around Seven's shoulder and Janeway's sat herself in Seven's lap.
"This wasn't quite what I had in mind," Janeway muttered, but she made no attempt to move.
"This is acceptable." More than acceptable, Seven thought. Her arms encircled Janeway's waist and she burrowed her face into her captain's neck.
"This is acceptable. More than acceptable."
Tom spun around at Seven's uncharacteristic words to see her and Janeway collapsed in a tangle of limbs on the floor of the Delta Flyer. It was almost as though they were … drunk? They were definitely cuddling. Janeway lifted a finger and tried to touch the end of Seven's nose. She missed and Seven ended up with a mouth full of finger. Tom felt his eyes nearly bulge out of his head when Seven closed her lips around the captain's finger and sucked, making Janeway moan.
Tom's crotch stirred in response to the sight, but he shook himself. He was feeling a little tipsy himself. He looked through the Delta Flyer's screen, at the star ahead of them, and a documentary he'd watched recently jumped to mind. He reversed the Flyer, punching in the course that would take them back to Voyager.
"Delta Flyer to Voyager," he said, punching his comm badge. "Medical emergency. We all appear to be suffering from carbon-water intoxication."
"Acknowledged," said Chakotay over the comm. "We'll come and meet you."
"When did Chakotay get here?" Janeway asked and, without waiting for a response, went back at nibbling on Seven's ear.
Tom's crotch stirred again. "Please, hurry."
It was with great embarrassment that the three of them left Sick Bay later that day, each trying not to dwell on what had happened.
Three months later…
Seven of Nine, Personal Log, Supplemental: Captain Janeway has insisted I attend Lieutenant Paris's birthday party this evening. She thinks it will be good for my social skills. It is a fancy-dress party and costumes are mandatory. The Doctor has helped me select something appropriate from the replicator's catalogue.
Seven didn't know why she agreed to come to this party, or why she agreed to wear something so ridiculous. She tugged the hem of her short, science-officer blue, skin-tight dress, trying to cover more of her thighs. She couldn't believe the women of Starfleet consented to wear such impractical uniforms in Captain Kirk's time. They were exposing, humiliating. Not to mention uncomfortable.
She hovered at the edge of the gathering, an undrunk glass of sparkling wine in one hand. She had no intention of experiencing intoxication again quite so soon. The last time had been sufficiently disastrous. Instead, she observed the party from a sober distance.
The crew's costumes were interesting to say the least. The birthday boy and B'Elanna Torres were dressed in little more than leaves. The Doctor was dressed in a tuxedo and cape, a white mask half-covering his face. Chakotay, too, was dressed in some kind of cape, but his was accompanied with a gold-and-red striped tie and he was carrying a short stick. His usual tattoo had been replaced by the symbol of a lightning bolt.
Even with all these interesting outfits, Seven found her eyes repeatedly pulled towards the captain. She was wearing tight trousers tucked into tall boots, her billowing shirt barely covered the swell of her breasts, and a tricorn hat perched jauntily atop her loosely curled hair. When Seven had first seen her, she'd searched through her cortical node's databases and come to the conclusion that Janeway was dressed as an eighteenth-century Terran pirate. She even had a cutlass strapped to one hip.
"You know—"
She jumped as Tom Paris spoke from beside her. She hadn't detected his arrival.
"—you should go and ask her to dance."
"I'm unsure as to whom you are referring, Lieutenant."
"Oh, please. You haven't been able to drag your eyes away from our illustrious captain all evening."
"I fail to see why that means I should ask her to dance. I doubt she'd want to dance with me. I will not impose myself on her."
"Don't forget," Tom said, "I was there too. I saw the way you looked at each other. The way you touched each other."
Heat surged to Seven's cheeks as she recalled the captain sat in her lap, her lips on Seven's ear.
"We were intoxicated. Not in our right minds. The captain would never look at me like that if it weren't for an anomaly of carbon attaching itself to water molecules as a result of stellar collapse."
"You take social lessons with the doctor, right?"
"That's correct."
"Well, I have one more lesson for you—possibly the most important lesson of them all."
"And what is that, Lieutenant?" Seven asked, quirking her optical implant.
He leant close and whispered in her ear, "Drunk actions are sober thoughts. Go get your girl."
He kissed her on the cheek, slapped her shoulder in a way she had often observed him do to Ensign Kim, and sauntered back into the crowd.
Drunk actions are sober thoughts. Acknowledged.
The back of Janeway's neck prickled as she talked to Chakotay. She spun and came face to face with Seven.
"Science-officer blue," she said, hoping her cheeks didn't flush as she dragged her eyes over Seven's costume. "I like it. It matches your eyes."
Janeway wished she could take the words back as soon as she said them. Seven was a member of her crew, and it wasn't ethical for Janeway to be hitting on her. Especially after what had happened on the away mission a few months ago.
"I have a question, Captain," Seven said with her usual lack of preamble.
"Proceed."
"Lieutenant Paris just informed me that drunk actions are sober thoughts. Is he correct?"
Janeway knew that her cheeks were definitely flushing now. "Yes, Seven. I believe that is generally accepted as true."
"Acknowledged," Seven said.
Janeway could hardly believe what happened next. One of Seven's hands cupped her flushed cheek and her soft, full lips found Janeway's. The kiss was slow and tentative at first. Soft and tender, yet Janeway still felt her belly tighten and heat pool at the juncture of her thighs. Someone wolf-whistled and, instead of pulling away as Janeway knew she should, she slipped one hand around Seven's waist and the other cupped the back of her head, fingers tangling in her soft, loose hair. Katheryn Janeway, captain of the Federation ship Voyager, kissed Seven of Nine for all she was worth.
Tom grinned as he wolf-whistled again.