The candles are lit, a soft glow flickering with warmth to bask in and he turns to check on the meal in stasis when he feels it. It is that small little snap that says she is near. He is surprised by how obvious it is, maybe because finally he is listening. He waits for the chime, but it is slow to come. He turns and looks at the door, grinning, as he imagines her on the other side, finger hovering over the chime. Maybe, like him, she has prepared for this to be their moment and is taking a deep breath before making that step. He frowns, maybe, instead, she is uncertain about him, about this dinner.
He shakes his head and walks with ease towards the door. in his head he calls it his destiny. He has been sure of this evening ever since he saw her step off the transporter pad.
His morning debrief had wound to a close earlier than expected. Now there was less pressure over rehashing the captain's decisions it was free to take a more indolent course. He had been escorted to the transporter pad by a gruff Paris, thanking him for his intervention with one breath, and giving him a warning over his future behaviour towards Kathryn with the next before leaving him slightly bemused and more than slightly expectant waiting alone.
Kathryn!
She shimmered into view and he was hard pressed not to rush up to her and hug her. Only a few days apart, but light years in spirit, and he needed to reconnect, let her know just how much had changed. So he snapped to attention with a smart 'captain' and then dimpled a smile as she quirked her irrepressible half grin at him and raised an eyebrow.
He stepped forwards hand outstretched with a 'kathryn' to help her off the platform, which she ignored to jump off in bouyant style. A rejection? he didn't have long to worry aas she quickly tucked her arm through his as she demanded he take her to the crew. Not a rejection, an ownership, a statement of friendship. It wasn't far to the mess hall, and in a tactical move worthy of the maquis, he stopped them before entering, demanding or begging, depending on perspective, that she join him for dinner. He had said in a determined voice that the time for rainchecks was over, and that he was free for any and all arrangements she would like to make, but particularly tonight, when he would eat ... crow.
She had first blinked, suspiciously quickly, turning her face slightly not effective in covering the heightened shimmer of her eyes, reminding him of the depth that he had hurt her. The hollow feeling had returned, and he felt a quiet desperation that this shouldnt be where their story ended. Then facing him again with chin up, proudly and with a challenge, she had reminded him that she had never liked eating crow, and hoped her meal would be something eminently more celebratory. He shouts a laugh as they enter the mess hall, the sound drowned by the scraping back of chairs and standing to attention of all the Voyagers present to which he barks 'captain on the deck' before they all cheer.
She is led, smiling and happy to the centre where her senior team sit, greeting or touching shoulders and arms of the crew as she walks past. The crew have missed her, her steady presence from steely eye to laughing dervish supporting them for seven years. With her rejoining them, they all can breathe easily, and view their reunions with family with delight rather than with the hint of guilt. They are a family. They are all home.
He snaps too as the chime rings, pulling him back into the present, towards the future he has desired for so long.
Opening the door with a grin he notices her suck in her breath as her eyes rake him from top to bottom, approvingly. This is going to go well.
As she sashays in, she sweeps a bottle of champagne from behind her back and he nods approvingly.
'thankyou for your support, Chakotay'
he takes a mental step back. He has moved beyond the last week, the last few months if he is honest. In his mind he is back where he should have always been, at her side. however, he is pulled back to the awareness that she has not made this journey with him.
The pop as the bottle opens and the following fizz if anything enhance his sensation of being on the cusp of something. It is the calm pre volcano or earthquake tremor. Their own cataclysm to follow. But he calmly pours each a glass, and hands hers with a kiss to her cheek. as he turns away to busy himself with the dinner, he smothers a grin.
He has seven years of Kathryn experience that he has not made the most of in the past. He knows that all his actions need to be clear. Clear that she means everything to him, clear that this is their time, should she choose to make it so. No deception, no game.
He doesnt need to look to know she has sat herself by his window to consider his moves. He always knows where she is in a room, and seven years of Kathryn watching gives a certain predictability to her actions.
During the meal he can see that behind their conversation she is analysing, parsing his actions, not relaxing fully. He has a way to go. He understands that. But she exclaims over the vegetable biryani, the smell delicious and the taste better. He dimples a grin when she says her mother couldn't have made it better, and he is hoping she doesnt sense a conspiracy. She hates that.
That she is sitting, laughing at his stories of Harry stuffing as much real apple pie in his stomach until groaning the doc had to provide a digestive treatment is a start, a return to the dinners they shared whilst bonding on Voyager at the start. He enjoys her smiling with joy at the description of B'Elanna meeting her new family, and the tears Owen shed of joy welcoming them home. He sensed her underlying wistfulness that she missed these moments, the moments she had worked for for seven years and he is angry that starfleet took these away from her.
He chases away this mood before it can take hold with recounting the things the crew haven't done. They have refused to meet their families, to talk to them face to face until their Captain can do so with them. They havent broken voyager family bonds. Instead they have had meals together, celebrated together and waited for her.
After all, they never leave a man behind.
He watches her smile of delight that she hasn't missed the moment when Naomi meets her father, chasing across her face the mood of exasperation that the crew would put her first at this time, followed by pride in her family sticking together, and relief that she is part of this wider life. She hasn't lost them.
The smell of chocolate brownies wafts, and she exlaims in delight.
'welcome home, Kathryn' as he grins back at her, remembering their discussion on foods that she missed.
The warmth of her smile is all that he needs. But he knows it is time to perhaps start to lay some ghosts. Maybe. He tentatively broaches the subject of Seven, that his mid life crisis, or aberration, whatever she calls it is over. That it could never have progressed, that he regrets the decision, the hurt it has caused. It is time to eat crow as promised.
He watches her frown, backing off faster than a ferengi from a cooperative venture.
'no, chakotay' she says decisively 'not today, let us today be just us' and she sends him a wry smile 'enjoy being who we were this evening. We need to talk, but not today?'
'who we are, Kathryn' he insists, but otherwise he will acquiesce. Her pace, his loyalty and devotion are perhaps in doubt. He is hopeful, he has to be hopeful.
And though they both try, some of the easy start to the evening is gone, and he curses his misstep. He thinks she already knew, both the relationship and its ignoble end. Seven had taken her aside for a while. but it was important to him to be honest. He should always have been honest.
He has a secret weapon, the last bottle of his Antarian cider, which he presents with a flourish. He bats aside her demurral, having already shared a bottle of champagne. He can feel the alcohol in his system, removing some of his inhibitions and thinks this might be what they need, to kickstart their breaking of barriers. So he plays his card, laughing that this has a barely there alcohol content, and never has alcohol induced any of their bonhomie. The captain of a maquis ship had to play a role, so drinking hard was expected in some quarters, but he never lost that tactical advantage by revealing the near teatotal drink of preference.
The laughter they share over his recounting of the deception, and how he played it at beating Tom at pool, or keeping his its earlier, when in the maquis brings them some way back to their earlier comfortable togetherness. He uses his moment to presuppose they will usually breakfast, lunch and post debrief meet whilst together. He doesnt push but is sure they both understand that their command team business will be only a small proportion of their time together. It is something about the softening of her look that strikes him he hasnt seen for a long time.
The evening has long turned into night when she rises from the comfortable couch, coffee long finished, to return back to her quarters. They had been bathed in the sunset and then watched the moonrise together, lost in memories of shore leaves and things thought forgotten and moments shared. A smile to each other and a further incremental shift in their companionship. A friendship bond revived.
He wants more, he hopes for so much more, but this he could live with. He had forgotten how she was his peace.
As she closes to say goodbye, it hits him that this is the moment he must seize. The evening has been enjoyable, and they are relaxing back into their friendship but without a push, some added impetus, the inertia of this balance may never be challenged. Now is the moment.
Her hand is on his shoulder, and she leans to kiss on the cheek, an invitation of something perhaps this time, rather than a goodbye and closure. There, it is his opportunity, and ever the tactition, he is going to take it. At the last minute he moves his face towards her.
Not quite enough, her lips land offset on his own. A gentle rest against them. They both still. She doesn't move away, he daren't move. Perhaps their future is decided by the next moment or movement.
Her lips do not complete the kiss, but instead move away fractionally, he feels his heart and soul moving away with them, straining to bring her back.
But the fractional gap between them feels like a chasm. As he prepares again to take the future in his hands, or lips in this case, she sways back in, closer body contact, and her lips, they move across his. Not a kiss, a lip to lips caress. With her mouth, she explores the shape of his. Gentle, like the butterfly wings, or the landing of snowflakes, she moves and presses. He daren't breathe, daren't move incase she should cease this exploration. They are on the cusp, no, they are already falling, his heart expands, his soul delights.
So when she pulls away again, with an almost feeling of the closure of a kiss, he bends towards her to chase those lips. Her free hand places against his heart and his wrap finally around her. The next meeting of lips is very definitely a kiss, no a series of light kisses, gentle, hesitant, yet inexorably connecting them. His heart expands, his soul breathes, he smiles, they smile, lips still together.
Her arms move up, around his neck, they breathe and the kisses start to press more, to deepen, she sucks at his lower lip and he opens, an offer. Another pause, an offer accepted, and now they are truly kissing. He knows that this is it. They are really going to do this now.
It is a dam breaking. Emotions, love and hurt, joy and pain all flow. He feels tears seep from his eyes, and dampness from Kathryn. It is, they are, overwhelming together. He feels... free. He hasn't realised how enclosed, how trammelled he has been until this moment, when he is finally allowing himself to feel everything.
Their kiss is incendiary, the power of the feelings making him feel simultaneously both the strongest man that ever lived, and also in need of a bulkhead or wall to balance them against. The tears of joy and relief forgotten as desire and passion burn through. Just as he decides to move, to be decisive, he finds himself pushed backwards, couch catching him at the knee so that he semi falls into a surprised seated position.
'kath..' he starts to expostulate in surprise, but the ferocious look in her eyes dissuades him. If he wasn't already desperate with desire, the look of want in her eyes would have put him on instant red alert. instead, well its best to say that it enhances his appreciation. he has little time to think, because although he is a man of action, his captain is also capable of rapid decision making, even recklessness when the situation warrants it.
He gasps as she straddles him, sitting on his lap, close, so close, breathing out his name as if it is the only thing that has ever mattered. He is entirely lost in her. The fierce kisses demand a desperate response, he plunders her mouth whilst his hands stroke her back, pull her ass, the ass he has ogled so covetously for 7 damned long years, closer into him.
She is passionate, all consuming and he is lost in the sensation of her, he realises his shirt is unbuttoned as her hands trace his u his chest to his shoulders. Her hands caress all of him, roaming his back, his arms as she slips the shirt down, she has her hands through his hair, touch memorising the tattoo of his manhood. his hands have also been caressing skin, slipping under her silken vest, and when he has enough sense to think, he has a momentary concern for the speed of this encounter.
but there she is, rocking against him, deliciously his, and he is entirely hers.
They separate to breathe again and he kisses along her jaw and down her neck as she stretches back whilst sighing his name.
And then suddenly, shockingly, she snaps back.
'Chakotay... stop... no!' and he stops immediately. He hurtles into the present, horrified that he may have misread her. His breathing is hard, his hands still rest on her, and hers on him. Looking at her face she is gazing worriedly out the window before a wide eyed return back to him.
'no' she says gently, clearly understanding his concern, and moves a hand to his face 'I want this, I... really want this but...' and his heart contracts back. Surely they couldnt have come so far just for this only. He continues to search her face for clues, taking courage from the fact she hasn't jumped up, that she does want this, him.
perhaps, maybe he should offer to stick to friendship first, losing her from his life would be just... unbearable.
'Too soon, too visceral' she states softly 'chakotay, i am not sure of who we are. Hell! I am not sure of who I am, not completely. we should do the talking you wanted, clear the ghosts, the past.' and she smiles worriedly at him. He wonders if she is aware her fingers continue to stroke his cheek, that she is holding onto him, making no attempt to leave. She is in equipoise, he just needs to decide whether to press or release.
but this is Kathryn, and the damned wonderful woman does like to make the moves. She takes a deep breath and her face takes on the expression from the board room that she has made up her mind to talk. 'I am not sure of you Chakotay, is this a consolation prize, a soothe for a bruised heart? A release of seven years tension? what?'
He could laugh or shout with joy, though the hidden to others signs of indecision, of hesitancy on her face give him pause.
'Kathryn, let me be clear, beyond any misconstruction. I love you, I always loved you, I always will. i hope to spend each and every day by your side if you let me. Not just a friend, your lover, life partner, confidante, bondmate. Whatever position you want me to fill I'll be there, but for me, this is exactly what I want. You. First and only choice' the words tumble, he brings a hand up to her face, and tips her forwards again for a soft kiss.
'I love you' he tells her softly as they gently release and their foreheads come together for a moment.
'but it is one hell of a comedown' she says harshly, pushing away 'she is young and beautiful, naive and intelligent. I am not sure how I can be what you want.'
He sighs, this unsure side of her unsettles him, causes him anguish that he has contributed to her loss of personal confidence. There is a flash of anger that she could think him so superficial.
'Kathryn, you think my heart is given to transient youth or beauty skin deep? I dated her because she asked, because she and I both needed to explore something that we didn't have. I am not so superficial, if you think so, you don't know me as well as I thought!' he expostulates, and hopes she doesn't mention the string of blondes in his wake. Its not as if he tried to make a future with them. He silently acknowledges that this was what he had planned to achieve with Seven.
'and as for you being what I want? Kathryn! You are who you are, exactly who I want, who I love, who I need. I love that, i love you.' he's not sure whether his passion swept brain can really clarify that he is going to love her regardless. That it is all the different strengths and flaws, her personality and moods that make up the Kathryn and Captain combination that he loves. He doesn't have a feminine ideal to measure her against, it isn't as if he is thirteen.
'I'm not beautiful?' she answers, as she squirms against him, making his breath catch again. This woman has moods like quicksilver, he is not certain whether she is still discomfited by comparison though he hopes not, or now with mischief and wiles leading them away from the discussions they will need to have.
'you are my beautiful, brave, wise, warrior queen. i love you for your mind, your soul, and the laugh you shout when surprised, the tenderness you have, the strength and determination. I love you Kathryn for all that you are' and she pulls the quizzical tender face that he also loves.
'but perhaps that is also my point, do you love me, or your captain? I am not the woman of New Earth. I have more darkness, less flex, more control. I am that domineering captain, decisive, opinionated, maybe reckless' and she gives a grin 'I need to explore who I am again when at peace, if my restless nature will even let me be at peace, and my passions and softer side. We need to see whether there is still anything...' she tails off.
'take the time, love, but from our kisses, there is more than something here for us, there is everything Kathryn.' and she offers no resistance as he gathers her close to him. He just enjoys them holding each other, at peace, breathing in her scent, her head on his shoulder, her breath whispering against his neck. He thinks he could sit like this forever, and is glad that it seems she could too. He imagines their future and reminisces on their past, neither are talking in this moment of quiet shelter.
A ping from his comm unit disturbs them and she bolts up surprised from his lap. He wonders whether she was drowsing into sleep, relaxing into him, finally! he grins as he unfolds himself and stands with her as she unhurriedly prepares to leave, it is getting late. By the door he kisses her again, enfolding her into his arms. It feels so right to be able to kiss. The gentle adieu gains momentum. Neither of them quite able to avoid the rise of passion, the spike of desire when their lips touch.
Seven years, more or less, they have waited to do this, or at least he thinks they have both waited to do this. in anyone's books, the anticipation of this evening filled with kisses should have made the actuality a disappointment. It isn't. He glories in it. The kisses again increase in fervour, holding closer, she melts into him, submitting to this, and this time it is he that moves Kathryn, until she is pressed against his wall quite without clear intent. the universe again pales into insignificance against this moment, this love, this woman. He is home.
Her passion equals his, and it is with some reluctance that the requirement for oxygen has him break free, all though his body keeps its ultra close contact.
'So' he says slowly whilst nibbling her jawline 'slowly it is then' kissing up to her ear and then letting her pull him back into another soul stretching kiss.
She is cunning tho, and he finds she has executed a tactical manoeuvre of Tuvok's and somehow he is pulled into her delightful body for a final open mouthed and languorous kiss as she twists in his arms and with a push his back wallops against the wall, his arms held above his head, and his captain has her eyes twinkling at him in delight, a flushed appearance and well kissed lips. She allows him one more passionate kiss, and although he knows that with his superior strength and equal tactical knowledge he could turn the tables again, he likes being captured by her. He might leave some romantic fighting moves for another time.
She sets him free and sashays out, in her smoky voice telling him she would like to feel wanted and chased to know without doubt that his mind, soul and heart choose only her. She would like to be wooed and courted. He thinks she may already be caught, he certainly is as he shouts a laugh at the closing door.
He lets the broad grin cover his face. The game is on.
He might be a man that is quick on action and sometimes slow on uptake, but he is absolutely sure that his actions speak louder than any words, and this time the woman he is courting is absolutely the right one for him.