Just For Practice:

Chapter 6

It was not very often when Seven of Nine, formerly a drone of the dreaded Borg Collective, changed her mind about something once a conclusion was reached. It was perhaps more accurate to say that it was practically unheard of for the intelligent and aloof woman to be persuaded otherwise, a quality that had been ingrained in her for the majority of her existence.

Concepts like individuality, compassion and spirituality were hard pills to swallow and were in constant conflict with her Borg upbringing. As a consequence of her Borg-like obstinance and a large source of friction between herself and the crew, Seven infamously deemed many things inefficient or irrelevant, the two not always being mutually exclusive. Among the many things she considered to be inept, it came as no surprise that food was one of them.

"Oral consumption is inefficient," the ex-Borg coldly declared one day when the Doctor cheerfully informed her she was ready to start eating food, eliciting the tiniest of chuckles from Captain Janeway who was present for that conversation. Not only did Seven firmly maintain her stance on the tedium of consuming food, Neelix's laughably bad cooking further solidified and evolved her views: oral consumption was both inefficient and unsatisfying. Of course it was never the loveable Talaxian's intention to dramatically contribute to her cynicism towards food, she was nonetheless subjected to his so-called cooking along with the rest of the crew. She seldom encountered food prepared by Neelix to be to her liking and she was never particularly motivated to sample any popular dishes from the replicator.

But when she took that first bite of her ratatouille, a French dish Captain Janeway highly recommended, Seven discovered right then and there what it was like to truly savor her food; to savor the taste and the softness of vegetables slowly cooked to perfection. Her Borg-enhanced sense of taste carried with it a distinct feeling of satisfaction to her partially cybernetic brain, causing the headstrong blonde to seriously reassess her disapproval and outright aversion to eating.

Revered as the Captain of Voyager and a living testament to beauty and brilliance, Kathryn Janeway held off from sampling her own food as she was far more interested in observing Seven consume her first bite of French cuisine. Dark red lips drew back from her teeth, forming a brilliant smile on her fine Irish features as she watched Seven's expression transform from inquisitive to surprised elation. It wasn't long before Seven had another spoonful of ratatouille at the ready when she heard what sounded like smothered laughter. Seven lifted her head, her glacier-blue eyes meeting greyish-blue ones that so clearly reflected the Captain's gleaming expression.

"How is it?" Janeway asked, her broad smile never diminishing in the slightest.

Seven took a brief moment to consider her response, very nearly characterizing her food in a dry, Borg-like manner which would not have done it justice. Given Seven of Nine's unique circumstances, conversation and socialization were not her forte, having yet to master them during her time aboard Voyager.

"It is very flavorful, I am enjoying the way it tastes," she answered, hoping her response was adequate enough for the Captain.

Janeway's eyelashes dipped and she made a small motion of triumph, her auburn hair bobbing as she shimmied slightly in her chair. She picked up her own spoon, stirring the vegetables around in the bowl and gathering up a small amount on the spoon.

"It's always a risk trying new food, especially when you have someone like Neelix as the sole chef of the ship," she said, making a wry face, "but I'm glad you like it."

"Thank you Cap—," the blonde's eyes widened at her own error, "my apologies, Kathryn," she amended with emphasis, making Janeway chuckle softly. "Thank you for suggesting it Kathryn."

When Captain Janeway requested that Seven address her by her first name, the beautiful ex-Borg accepted it without question, hardly giving it a second thought. Now that she was faced with her first situation of having to use Janeway's personal designation, something that was almost never appropriate to do on a Federation starship and completely unheard of on a Borg ship, it made her uncomfortable for a slew of reasons. But the utterance of Kathryn's name from Seven's lips also made her heart flutter and her skin tingle from head to toe as if the woman had touched her all over.

"You're welcome," Kathryn said huskily, bringing the spoon up to her lips, "I'd be happy to introduce you to more dishes." A blissful look came over her face as she ate, more or less mirroring Seven's expression from earlier. "Mmm," she moaned quietly, "you know, some people say that replicated food isn't as good as food organically grown and made the traditional way, my mother being one of them," she chuckled, "but this is delicious."

"Although the methods of which food is produced differ," Seven's ocular implant raised up impertinently, "the end result is essentially the same. I highly doubt people can truly taste the difference."

Kathryn regarded her blonde date-in-training favorably, pursing her lips into a thin smile.

"My sentiments exactly."

The two women went on to steadily devour their dinner with the gentle accompaniment of the piano in the background. While they dined, Kathryn strategically grilled Seven on the pertinent details of her life that was typical for a first date, encouraging the inexperienced woman to talk about herself. Though a bit rigidly and matter of factly, Seven answered each of Kathryn's questions about her career and her interests, gaining a little more confidence in her ability to conversate over a meal with each answer. Seven's fervent efforts and growing ease did not pass the Captain by; she made sure to give credit where credit was due, hoping the sincerity of her praises was well received by the younger woman. Following her captain's example, an emboldened Seven ventured further out of her comfort zone with similar questions of her own, earnestly probing Kathryn about her personal life and family.

Astonished at first, Kathryn swelled with pride and happily fielded Seven's questions, allowing her beautiful date...no, her colleague, she strictly reminded herself, the honor of getting to know more about the woman beneath the illustrious and lonesome rank of captain. Without even realizing, the two women fell headlong into a comfortable conversational groove, learning about and expanding upon the minutiae of each other's lives.

It was an overall valuable experience for Seven, even if she didn't have much to divulge about herself that the Captain didn't already know. Possessing the vaguest of memories from her childhood and knowing nothing outside of life as a Borg drone for eighteen years yielded very little for her to talk about. Seven had no stories of home and hearth to share. But she was more than content to listen to Captain Janeway bridge the gaps between the specifics of her life that Seven was already acquainted with, filling in the once dry details with warm and colorful emotions.

In between mouthfuls of food and conversation, Kathryn sipped on her wine, relishing the flavor that paired quite wonderfully with her food. Several times throughout dinner, Kathryn caught Seven out of the corner of her eye watching her drink her wine with curiosity. Lightly smacking her lips after another generous imbibing of wine, the auburn haired captain gazed at the woman across from her, the latter conveniently looking away at the moment Kathryn moved the glass away from her mouth and set it down. An irresistible grin made its way to the surface of the captain's features.

"Would you like to try my wine, Seven?" she asked, sounding a little more mischievous than she intended, "it's really good. A small sip shouldn't affect you, especially since you've eaten some."

Feeling a little embarrassed, Seven glanced down at the crystal glass in front of Kathryn.

"Yes, I would," Seven replied, then added, "please."

Kathryn's long fingers slid down the stem to grip the base of the glass and she gladly held it out for Seven. Accepting the proffered glass, Seven gingerly grasped the stem and brought the rim of the glass to her lips. The Captain propped up her chin with both hands, watching the blonde closely. At first, the bitter taste of the wine caused Seven to make a face, but a sparsely sweet aftertaste soon followed and her frown subsided some.

"I am not certain I like this wine," Seven remarked, disappointed. She handed the glass back to her captain.

"That's quite alright," Kathryn smiled tenderly, "Everybody's different when it comes to wine. Some prefer their wine sweet, but I personally like them more on the dry side."

Yearning to reintroduce the wine to her senses again, Kathryn took a sip, luxuriating in the bitter taste unlike Seven. She lifted the glass to indulge in another drink only to stop abruptly, holding it several centimeters away from her mouth. There on the rim of the glass she spied a lip print that didn't quite belong to her. Kathryn stared at it for a moment and her eyes suddenly widened with realization, instinctively bringing up a hand to her mouth and lightly touching her lips. A slow burning sensation ensued in the pit of her stomach and it wasn't from the wine. Had she been a little more cognizant of her actions, she would have avoided the rim where Seven had placed those full lips over. But she hadn't, and she knew exactly what had taken place. Back on Earth, this was quite humorously known as an indirect kiss. The burning sensation moved beyond her stomach, spreading in two different directions: her chest and her lower regions.

Completely oblivious to the chaos that inundated the woman sitting opposite from her, Seven had resumed eating, her attention more focused on her food than the Captain. Only when she glanced up did she catch sight of Kathryn shifting uncomfortably in her chair, her expression like that of a brewing storm. Concerned, Seven opened her mouth to inquire what was troubling her, but Kathryn quickly flashed a smile, all traces of the dire look on her face gone in an instant. Seven kept silent, reflecting Kathryn's smile instead.

They finished eating soon after, both women sufficiently sated and relaxed. Patting the corners of her mouth with her cloth napkin, Kathryn set it down beside her bowl and the garçon immediately swooped in to clear away their dishes. There was a small amount of red wine left in the glass which Kathryn nursed, making a conscious effort to avoid the other woman's lip print. She hadn't fully recovered from that ordeal. Tempered by Star Fleet and her time in the Delta Quadrant, many years of practiced mental discipline somehow hung by a thread and the telltale warmth still lingered in certain areas.

"So," Kathryn started, moving her glass in a circular motion, "are you finding this practice date to be useful at all?"

"Yes, thanks to you I believe I have learned a great deal," Seven replied, a surprising amount of appreciation in her voice.

"I'm pleased to hear it," Kathryn dipped her head. She glanced in the direction of the piano and the pianist, one side of her mouth taking the form of a crooked half-grin. "Now there's only one thing left for us to do on this date," she added mysteriously.

The embers still smouldering within Kathryn intensified again, sweeping through and reclaiming its hold over her body. Utterly at its mercy and less inclined to fight it this time, she leaned into it and allowed what felt like the heat of a hundred suns consume her.

Apprehensive, Seven tilted her head to the side. "What would that be?"

"The dance," Kathryn revealed in a thick voice, "would you care to try dancing with me?"