AN: This was just one chapter originally - but today it became two. And there might be a three eventually.
Big thank you to northernexposure for the beta read and to Koniea and Hester for encouraging me to continue the story.
Chapter Two
Kathryn exhales, making a conscious effort to relax her shoulders as she sits back in her seat. She surveys the dining hall. The ceremonial dinner is going surprisingly well. There is only one more course left.
She turns to catch her first officer's eye, feeling the corner of her mouth twitch up as she remarks, "I think Neelix will be more than satisfied with our performance this evening. Wouldn't you say, Commander?"
"So far so good, Captain," he agrees cautiously.
Then, as if the universe had heard the pride in her voice and decided to do something about it, the 'sharing' course Kathryn has forgotten about is announced.
Kathryn watches as the guests turn one way or the other to pair up in order to partake of this final 'cutlery free' course. Neelix's preparatory notes warned that this course is always enjoyed with a partner and involves the shared consumption of a long thread of pasta-like twine, served in a large bowl. He'd mentioned that it could get quite messy.
As one of the young males waiting on them places a large bowl and a folded white sheet of material on the table, Kathryn becomes aware that she is being watched intently by the tall angular Tak Tak on her right, whose wiry looking facial hair she'd noticed earlier. She turns quickly to her left to find Chakotay already facing her; his features are carefully neutral, but, as usual, his eyes give him away.
Kathryn chews the inside corner of her bottom lip. Her gaze flickers to the surprisingly hirsute Tak Tak female on the other side of him. "You no good with beards either?"
He chuckles quietly, and picks up the thin white sheet; a sheet which she remembers is to be used as the shared napkin. "Shall I do the honours?" he asks, as he holds it up.
She nods and leans towards him, tilting her head down and holding her thick braid out of the way so he is able to fasten the ties of the two-person napkin at the back of her neck.
"Do you want me to do you?" she asks, instantly regretting the phrasing.
"Be my guest," he replies, and those damn twinkling eyes are at it again. The man is insufferable today. Despite the lack of any real tangible evidence, she suspects he always secretly enjoys the moments on their journey when they are faced with no option other than to embrace the absurd.
Kathryn takes the other end of the fabric from him and reaches up to fasten it at the back of his neck. He dips his head to accommodate her and she registers somewhere in the part of her mind marked 'sublimate' how surprisingly soft his warm skin is.
Now they are joined by the shared napkin, they look across the table to the Tak Tak Consul and his mate to see exactly how to start this dish. Neelix's briefing was very clear on the fact that it is considered the height of bad table manners to use ones fingers, and this final course is 'cutlery free'. It appears each diner has to pick up their end of the thick pasta-like rope using only their teeth.
The Consul and his partner lean towards their bowl simultaneously and as they do so, they reach out with their right hands and clasp each other around the back of the neck. Then they appear to indulge in a bit of nuzzling in the large dish, before they take hold of their respective ends of the twine and slowly sit upright again, without releasing their hold on each other. The long twisted rope-like 'delicacy' is now stretched between their mouths and drips the occasional drop of sauce onto the napkin. Then they both begin to skilfully consume their end, appearing to somehow suck the thread inwards, open mouthed, without biting through and causing it to drop.
Kathryn catches Chakotay's eye and they wordlessly agree to observe a few more couples before attempting to start in case there are other acceptable ways of beginning this task. After watching the couples either side of the Consul behaving in exactly the same fashion, they lock eyes again.
Then she turns a little too far away from him and feels the tug of the napkin as he is pulled with her. Turning back she finds him grinning and she purses her lips.
"Stop looking at me like that!" she scolds. "You're going to set us off again. And we've done so well this evening."
He holds up both hands. "Nelix's notes did hint that this course was likely to be a challenge."
"You telling me you don't think you're up to it?"
"No, I'm sure we'll do just fine. And I promise I won't bite."
She rolls her eyes at him. "Right, come on," she says, "Let's do it. And don't try to talk with your mouthful – or you may bite through it and we'll have to ask for another one and start over."
"Understood. May I?" he asks, extending his right hand towards her neck.
She nods permission and his fingers slide up underneath her hair. She focuses on supressing both her awareness of the absurdity of the situation and her instinct to pull away to regain her personal space. She reaches towards him.
"Right hand, Captain," he corrects quickly.
"Right. Yes. Sorry," she switches hands and cups the back of his neck. His close-cropped hair is thick and soft - pleasing to the touch, like velvety animal fur.
"Left hand might mean something else," he points out a bit too cheerfully, with a twitch of the eyebrow.
"It might," she concedes as they lock eyes again. There is a second of mutual hesitation. Kathryn takes a deep breath, and says, "Well, here goes," and he follows her lead and they both begin to lower their faces towards their respective ends of the strange looking rope-pasta. As her mouth nears the dish, Kathryn feels his forehead gently bump hers, and he uses his hold on her to steer her away to prevent them from colliding again. He mumbles an apology and she grunts in reply, too intent on trying to get enough purchase on the twine with her teeth to pick it up. After a few more seconds slipping about and fumbling in the dish with her lips and tongue, her cheek grazing his several times, she finally gets the bit between her teeth. Only then does she realise she's been using her hold on his neck to steady herself as she manoeuvres, and she tries to loosen her grip. Only a little though, as she can't shake the feeling that his amusement is outweighing his discomfort here.
Eventually, she feels him pulling back, and she surmises he must have finally gotten his end under control too, so she risks slowly lifting her face out of the bowl. The sight of him on the other end of the twisted pasta-like twine, a hefty dollop of the dark red sauce on his nose and some on his right cheek proves him right. This course was always going to be a challenge.
Once again she realises she's steadied herself and maintained her focus on the task by increasing her grip on the back of his neck.
Oh well, he'll live. The Doctor can see to the fingernail marks later.
The mischievous glint in his eyes tells her more than she wants to know about how she must be looking right now. She isn't sure, but she thinks there's a pretty good chance she's even managed to get a little of the sauce in her hair.
Now that the twine is securely in her mouth, she registers that it is really quite tasty. It reminds her of the tang of citrus fruit – somewhere between an orange and a lime – and the sauce is delicious and possibly alcoholic, with a flavour that is reminiscent of dark chocolate and caramel. She has an urge to lick her lips, but this proves to be completely impossible with the thick thread hanging down out of her mouth. It's a good 30 centimetres long, so they'd better start eating the ridiculous thing, or they'll get left behind. The last thing she wants is for them to become the after dinner entertainment for the assembled Tak Tak dignitaries.
Kathryn is irritated to see that Chakotay's attention has drifted from the task in hand over her shoulder to the couple on her right, out of her own line of sight. This couple was one of the first to start. Then something in his expression changes and his hold on Kathryn's neck tightens slightly. Her sixth sense tells her he's seeing something that she isn't going to like. He still hasn't started sucking in his end of the rope – he's just holding it carefully between his sauce smeared lips with his mouth in an 'o' shape. Kathryn watches as his eyes flicker now towards the Consul and his partner opposite them. This time she can follow his gaze, and she understands the cause of his sudden distraction. It appears that once you meet in the middle, it's customary to compare notes on the taste of the dish with the entwining of tongues.
Thank God the rest of the crew aren't here.
They lock eyes again and in his she reads a mixture of amusement and barely disguised panic.
Oh well, she thinks, in for a penny…
They both begin to suck in their respective ends. The speed at which he's approaching makes her wonder whether he's had the same thought about not wanting to be last to finish. They make quick work of it – the taste certainly helps, although Kathryn's surprised by how hard it is to swallow when you can't close your mouth. When only the last few centimetres of the twined pasta-like thread are left between them, they both pause. The moment is heavy with anticipation. His eyes look black and his face carries a deep flush, not that far off the colour of the sauce, actually.
The room seems very warm and she feels his hand adjust its hold on the back of her neck slightly. She shifts her gaze to fix it firmly on his mouth rather than his eyes. Purposefully not giving herself any more time to think about this, she works forward to take in more of the twine at the exact same moment as he does and their lips meet. She can't help but taste him as his chocolaty-limey-orangey tongue finds hers and slides deliciously against it and the full to bursting 'sublimation' section of her mind finally overflows; for a tiny fraction of a second she actually forgets where they are.
A few seconds later when the last fragments of the twine between them have been consumed, they break apart and Kathryn releases the back of his head. He's a bit slower on the up-take, and she has to prod him a little to prompt him to remove his hand from where it's still cupping the back of her neck. He's looking decidedly flustered – she almost feels sorry for him. She speculates that it's probably a good thing 'Fleet dress uniforms are loose and fall mid-thigh.
He clears his throat and fumbles with the knot she tied at the back of his neck.
"Here," she directs him. "I'll do it."
He obediently bends his head, seemingly keen to avoid her gaze. She frees him of the shared napkin and lifts it over her own head without bothering to undo the knot he'd tied, then dumps it rather unceremoniously on the table. Finding a clean section of the napkin, she uses it to wipe the sauce from her cheek. Chakotay follows her example and then they act as a mirror for one another, until the worst of the damage is repaired.
Looking across, Kathryn observes as both the Consul and his mate incline their heads in unison until they are almost touching the table for a few seconds in what Kathryn hopes is acknowledgement of a ritual properly observed. She nods to Chakotay and her eyes instruct him that they'd be wise to mimic the gesture. Their attempt seems to be sufficient and the Consul turns back to converse with his dinner companion. Kathryn lets out a slow controlled breath.
Then Chakotay clears his throat and when she looks his way he leans in towards her again and remarks quietly, "Well, that made for a memorable first kiss, Kathryn."
"It wasn't a kiss," she replies casually.
He looks up and his brow furrows.
"In diplomatic terms it was an unavoidable obligation," she asserts, leaning back in her chair and confidently surveying the room. In her peripheral vision she can see the corner of his mouth twitch upwards.
"Made for a memorable first unavoidable obligation then."
She turns to look at him. Intent on putting a lid on this quickly, she ignores the rather enticing twinkle of mischief in those dark eyes and says, "If I remember Neelix's brief correctly, there should be after dinner drinks. Are you up to risking the Tak Tak version of coffee, Commander?"
The smirk still on his face, he straightens up a little in his seat.
"I'm game if you are, Captain."