Hello again, all! Just to prove I can write m/f, I offer up a little voyeuristic tidbit that‘s been floating around in my mind for the past few weeks. Warning: It‘s not long, and it‘s got no plot. Further, I have no intention of writing any sequels to this story. None. Not a one. So don‘t ask. If you want a sequel, or a prequel, I hereby give you blanket permission to write one yourself.
Disclaimer: The characters contained herein belong exclusively to Paramount. I have borrowed them for a very little while, but I‘m done with them now and am returning them unharmed.
"The Captain‘s Closet"
by Margaret Berger (MaisieRita@aol.com)
J/P, rated R, part 1/1
A deserted corridor, 1700 hours. Chakotay whispered, nervously, "Are you sure she won‘t find out about this?"
"Calm down, Chakotay. I‘m the Chief Engineer. I know how to get into someone‘s quarters without setting off the alarms." B‘Elanna was exasperated.
"But it‘s the Captain‘s quarters."
"So what? Hold on a minute. I‘ve almost got it... Harry, hand me that decryption algorithm processor."
"Computer, lights." B‘Elanna looked around with satisfaction. "Are we all here?"
Chakotay answered in a hushed tone of voice. "Yes. I still don‘t know about this."
"Chakotay, if you didn‘t want to be part of this, you shouldn‘t have come."
Harry was busy unpacking the tote bag. "Leave him alone, B‘Elanna, he‘s just naturally nervous."
B‘Elanna chuckled. "You‘re right. Come on, Starfleet, let‘s get these decorations up. Here Chakotay, you and Kes can start with the streamers. Neelix, find a good place to set up the cake, one that won‘t be obvious the minute she walks in the room."
"Of course, Lieutenant Torres." Neelix whistled happily for a minute, but let it fade away. "Where‘s Tom? I thought he‘d want to be here."
A soft laugh from Harry. "B‘Elanna and I decided not to tell him. He can‘t keep a secret longer than 5 minutes. If we told him, it would have been all over the ship by the end of the day, and the Captain would definitely have found out about it. End of surprise party. We‘ll comm him when we‘re done."
Kes spoke in her soft soprano. "And Tuvok?"
"*Someone* had to stay on the bridge," B‘Elanna answered.
Chakotay again, nervously. "B‘Elanna, are you sure Kathryn won‘t be back here before 1830 hours?"
"Yes, I‘m sure. She always goes to work out at this time of day, and she‘s got an appointment with the Holodoc at 1800 hours. But if it will make you happy ... computer, run notification program Torres-gamma-5."
<Beep> "Program in progress."
"There." She rustled through the tote bag. "Starfleet, what did you do with the adhesive?"
"I gave it to Kes for the balloons."
Kes handed the roll of tape back to B‘Elanna. "Here, B‘Elanna, take it. I haven‘t even begun to blow up the balloons yet. I won‘t need the tape for a while."
<Beep> The computer‘s feminine voice interrupted them. "Someone has just attempted to gain access to Captain Janeway‘s quarters."
"Shit! Computer, lights out," B‘Elanna snapped out. "Quick everyone, duck into the dressing area. The door will only stick the first time she tries to get in."
"Damn, I knew something was going to go wrong, I just knew it."
"Shut up, Chakotay, and get in here." The five conspirators, gear in tow, piled into Janeway‘s closet.
<Swish> Hesitant footsteps. "That was strange." Janeway‘s voice.
"Maybe you hit the wrong access code." Tom‘s voice. Tom?
B‘Elanna raised an eyebrow at Harry.
"Maybe. Don‘t just stand there, come in, already."
"Yes, ma‘am." Tom‘s footsteps, striding across the room towards the replicator. "Two Aldebaran brandies."
<Whirr> <Sip> "Mmm. Just what I need at the end of a long, tedious day. Here you go, Captain. Have one."
Dryly, "You‘re so generous with my replicator rations, Tom."
A light laugh. "Always." Another sip. "Let‘s toast to your birthday, Katie." A soft thump, as of a pillow hitting an immobile human. "Hey, watch it! You almost made me spill it!"
"I told you not to call me Katie."
"And I told you that until you come up with a better suggestion, that‘s what I‘m sticking with."
"What‘s wrong with Kathryn?"
"For starters, Chakotay calls you that. Anyway, it‘s too serious. I like names that are more fun."
"How about Kathy? Kathy is fun."
"Q calls you Kathy. He thinks it‘s his special name for you. If you don‘t mind, I‘ll leave it for him. I don‘t want to step on his omnipotent toes."
"Well, what‘s wrong with plain old Kate?"
"Just that. It‘s plain old Kate. Not that Kate‘s not a nice name! It‘s just not for you." <Sip> "Kat? Kitten? No and no. Sorry, I keep coming back to Katie."
"It‘s so childish, Tom."
"No, it‘s youthful. Look, I promised I wouldn‘t use it anywhere but in these quarters, right? I always keep my promises." <Sip> "Are you going to drink that?"
"No. I‘m not in the mood. Here."
"What‘s wrong? You love Aldebaran brandy."
"Nothing." A sigh. "Oh, don‘t give me that look. All right. It‘s just that ... no one remembered."
"The day‘s not over yet, and anyway, I remembered. Go get your present."
"Don‘t smile at me like that. It makes my heart melt and destroys my cavalier image. Yes, present. I hid it here days ago."
"You‘re lying. I would have found it."
"Not where I hid it. It‘s in the third drawer of your bureau, way, way in the back, underneath the flannel pj‘s." A brief pause. "Someday I‘m going to get you to wear those."
"Oh, I don‘t think so, Tom." Footsteps, heading towards the dresser.
"Then why do you keep them?"
"Chakotay gave them to me."
"It was sweet."
Chakotay blushed, thankful for the blanketing darkness of the closet.
"Yes. It was very sweet. And very stupid. He doesn‘t know you at all, does he? Flannel pajamas. As if you‘d ever ... now, if I was going to get you sleepwear, it certainly wouldn‘t be flannel, and it would have about an eighth as much fabric."
"You know I don‘t sleep in lingerie, Tom." A drawer slides open.
"Who said anything about sleeping in it?"
Rustling cloth. "I don‘t see any—wait, is this it?"
"Unless you left a little box wrapped in silver paper in the back of your drawer."
The unmistakable sound of tearing paper. "Oh, I‘m sorry. Did you wrap this yourself?"
"Couldn‘t you tell?" Laugh. "Don‘t be sorry. Presents are made to be ripped open."
"I wonder what—oh goodness, Tom .... it‘s beautiful."
"You think so? Put it on. Here, I‘ll help you. The clasp goes in the back."
"It‘s the most beautiful thing I‘ve ever seen." Another pause. "Tom, I can‘t accept this ... this must have cost you months of replicator rations."
"Not exactly. It‘s not replicated."
"It‘s real. I got it two months ago at the Karnesi outpost."
"But ... you weren‘t even on shore leave at that outpost."
Sly chuckle. "I‘m very devious. There was a jewelry trader I struck up a deal with. Can you believe he actually liked Neelix‘s castoride souffle? He had all the ingredients except for the dareema root. So I replicated some for him, and he gave me the necklace."
"How much dareema root did you need to replicate?"
"Oh, a couple hundred kilos." Laugh. "Hey, what good is it saving up four months of rations if you can‘t spend them on the Captain of the ship?"
"Four months? Tom, I really can‘t accept this."
"Of course you can. Unless you want me to give it to someone else..."
"Good. Then it‘s settled. Anyway, I didn‘t spend the whole four months on the dareema root. I saved up some for dinner tonight."
Low, sultry, purr. "I‘m not very hungry. Hold on a minute, I have a present for you."
"It‘s not my birthday, Katie."
"I know. It‘s really a present for both of us. It‘s in the other room."
Janeway darted into the dressing area, totally oblivious to the presence of 5 very startled, very embarrassed crew members huddled in her closet. She grabbed something off a shelf and disappeared into the bathroom, emerging seconds later dressed in something that wasn‘t much of anything.
Crash. "Oh my god."
Twirl. "You like it?"
"Like it? I‘m thinking of the hundred ways I can tear it off you."
Footsteps. "Flannel pj‘s my ass."
"And what a nice ass it is. Come here, Helmboy."
Thud. Springs squeaking. Wet, slurpy kisses.
"Mmmm, you taste like brandy."
"You would too if you‘d drunk it."
"It tastes better on your lips."
"Shut up and kiss me again."
More kisses. Rustling cloth. A few whispers, and a few sighs.
"Who‘d have thought ... <kiss> ... three years ago ... <kiss> that‘d I‘d end up in your bed?"
"I would have. I knew it from the minute I laid eyes on you."
"Liar. You didn‘t even like me."
"Not true. I merely thought you were immature and needed some discipline."
Strangled laugh. "And I thought the leather and chains were just a wild impulse."
<Smack> "That‘s not what I meant." <Kiss> "They were a wild impulse, but that was only after I‘d gotten you in bed."
"*You* got me in bed? I think your memory of events is mixed up."
"No. I distinctly remember chasing after you."
"Hell no. I chased after you."
"Only after I‘d already started chasing after you. Hey, who‘s the Captain of this ship?"
"You are. Of course, ma‘am, you‘re right, ma‘am. You chased me and got me in your bed."
A laugh. "It‘s a good thing you know when to quit." A pause. "Are you still wearing that stupid uniform?"
"Not for long." A long series of rustles. "There."
"Oh, much better. Now come here and show me how much you like our joint present."
More squeaking springs. Rustling blankets. More slurpy kisses. A few sighs, which turned into moans, which gradually became gasps, which melted into groans and sobs and muffled cries of pleasure and passion.
The five lurking crewmembers were curled up in the closet, uncomfortable, and uncomfortably aware that an intimate interlude was taking place a few meters away.
"I knew this was a bad idea!" Chakotay whispered furiously to B‘Elanna.
"Shut up!" she hissed back. "What do you want me to do about it now?"
A particularly loud gasp from the other room caused them all to squirm uncomfortably.
"Get us out of here," Chakotay whispered.
"How do you propose I do that, Commander? I don‘t carry around a site-to-site transporter."
"Well, maybe you ought to," he hissed back. "Assuming we don‘t spend the next 70 years locked in the brig!"
Another loud gasp from the next room, followed by a sudden moan, a muffled curse, a few loud panting breaths, one "Oh, yes!" and then two voices crying out in harmony.
Silence. A rustle of the bed covers. A giggle. "Stop it!" Janeway said. "You‘re tickling me."
"Well, you‘re poking me with your elbow."
"I‘m trying to cuddle." A happy sigh. "This is so much better than working out in a smelly gym."
"And it burns a lot of calories, too."
"You‘re so pragmatic."
"It‘s one of my many admirable qualities."
"Speaking of which, you did that thing again that I love."
"You know, with your fingers."
"Aaah, that thing. Yes. You seem to like it."
"I love it. It never fails to get to me. I had another lover once who did something very similar."
"Oh really?" Tom‘s voice feigned disinterest.
"Yes. I‘d forgotten about it, until you did it the first time. I don‘t remember who it was—" A long pause, which mutated into a deadly silence. "Oh my god. I do remember."
"You do?" A very tiny voice.
"I do." <Smack> "You discussed me with your father?" <Smack
smack smack> Pause. <Smack smack smack smack>
"Ow! Stop it!" Tom‘s pleasant laugh filled the room. "Hey, watch it, I bruise easily. For your information, I didn‘t know who you were, at the time. Christ, I wasn‘t even out of high school. Dad used to give me advice on ladies. Sometimes he threw in info on sexual technique as an added bonus."
"And he used me as an example? I‘ll kill him. If we ever get home, I‘ll kill him."
"He didn‘t use your name. Not exactly. He called you Lieutenant K. It was the auburn hair that gave it away. Well, that, and the way you moan."
<Smack> "You two are sick, you hear me? Sick!"
"Not sick. Just close. Didn‘t you talk about sex with your parents?"
"Not in detail. Not about specific lovers!"
"I can‘t help it that your family was repressed."
"We weren‘t repressed. Just ... proper."
"Proper ... repressed ... it‘s all the same thing. I love you anyway, repressions and all."
Dryly, "You‘re so sweet." <Kiss> "I love you too."
"Of course you do. How could you help it? Computer, what‘s the time?"
"The time is 1745."
"Time to get into the shower, Katie. You‘re supposed to meet the Doc in Sickbay at 1800 hours."
<Pretty little grumble> "Oh, all right. Come in with me. No need to waste the water."
"*Now* who‘s being pragmatic?" Rustling cloth. "Okay. Here, I‘ll carry you for your birthday."
"Don‘t hurt yourself, Tom."
"Please. Don‘t insult me. I can always muster up the energy to carry a beautiful woman into the shower."
"You do this a lot, do you?"
"Not lately." <Kiss> Footsteps drew close. The five crewmembers in the closet shrank in on themselves. They closed their eyes, as if that would somehow help them evade detection. Footsteps approached and continued past the closet, towards the bathroom. The door opened.
The footsteps paused in the open doorway. Janeway spoke, and her voice was amused, "Do you suppose they‘ll be able to untangle themselves?"
Tom chuckled. "I think so. B‘Elanna‘s an engineer. If worse comes to worst, and they‘re not out by morning, we could send in an Engineering detail. Maybe pry them apart."
"Good idea, Lieutenant. I‘ll make a note of it. Mr. Neelix?"
There was silence for a few very long seconds before Janeway repeated gently, "Mr. Neelix?"
"Ummm, yes, Captain?" Neelix squeaked.
"I don‘t suppose that cake is chocolate."
"As it happens, it is, Captain."
"Good. Leave it on the table when you go. With some forks and plates."
"Of course, Captain."
Tom laughed. "There‘s that pragmatic streak again, Katie."
"You must be rubbing off on me."
"We can only hope." Footsteps heading into the bathroom. A slamming door. Seconds later, the water began running.
Silence reigned in the closet.
Finally, Neelix ventured, "I suppose we can leave, now."
"I suppose so," Harry grumbled. "Damn. Tom and Captain Janeway.
He never even told me!"
Kes said, "I guess he‘s better at keeping a secret than you thought."
"I guess so," Harry answered wryly. "Still, it was probably a good idea we didn‘t tell him about the party."
Chakotay, meanwhile, was struggling to work his way out of the mass of bodies, muttering, "I knew this was a bad idea. I knew it."
"Chakotay," B‘Elanna hissed angrily, "shut up and help me get out of here."
In the bathroom, the water ran on and on.
The end, as in, the end.
Loved it? Hated it? Send e-mail to: MaisieRita@aol.com