Rank Privileges

Summary: The Vulcan sense of timing does not work in Tuvok's favour.

 

Characters: Tuvok, Janeway, Chakotay

Codes:  Janeway/Chakotay

 

Disclaimer: Utter smart-assery. I'd think Paramount would be far too embarrassed to claim it, but then again, they did make Threshold.

Notes: This is what happens when you read far, far too many J/C PWPs and get a little punchy.

Rated M

Part 3: Holodeck

Lieutenant Junior Grade Tuvok’s attention was caught by a beep from his station in the secondary power processing centre. “Captain,” he uttered into his commbadge, “I have detected a slight fluctuation in the holodeck power relays. There may be a malfunction.”

“I’m in Holodeck One right now,” came the captain’s reply. “I’ll check it out from here. Janeway out.”

As she closed the channel, Da Vinci’s studio flickered unnervingly around her and was replaced by an idyllic pastoral scene that looked vaguely familiar. Janeway frowned. “Computer, restore previous program.”

~Unable to comply,~ taunted the computer.

“Why not?”

~Parameters must be properly redefined,~ the computer said, confusingly.

The captain tapped her foot. “Computer, this is ridiculous. End this program and activate program Janeway Italian Meatball One. Now.”

~Insufficient clearance,~ sneered the computer.

“Excuse me?” Janeway put her hands on her hips. “I’m the damn captain, thank you very much. Who apart from me would have sufficient clearance?”

~Voice activation protocols are restricted to Commander Chakotay.~

The captain’s eyes narrowed as she scanned her surroundings again. “Computer,” she said slowly, “identify this program.”

~Program identified as Chakotay Bathtub Monkey Alpha.~

“Oh, hell,” muttered the captain.

~Activating transport,~ added the computer helpfully. ~Initiating privacy lockout.~

“What?” demanded Janeway, as she heard the faint whine of the transporter, and turned to face her very confused first officer.

“Huh?” Chakotay blinked. “How did I get here?”

“It seems the computer has developed a matchmaking subroutine,” Janeway mumbled, half under her breath. Chakotay opened his mouth to enquire further but was halted by her upraised hand. She tried her commbadge. “Janeway to Tuvok?”

No response; not that she’d expected any. She sighed and turned to Chakotay. “Help me get the damn doors open so we can get out of here. Computer, arch.”

Nothing happened.

Chakotay was looking around. “Oh,” he said, and then in a different tone, “Oh.” Glancing nervously at his captain, he tried to make light of things. “I don’t suppose you feel like a boat ride down the river?”

The little redhead snarled. The big tattooed warrior cringed. Janeway growled something that sounded like “I need a goddamned coffee,” and stomped off toward the holographic cabin.

Chakotay cast a last wistful glance around and followed her.

By the time he reached the cabin, Janeway was mainlining her second cup of joe and pacing furiously. “What on New Earth were you thinking, Chakotay?” she snapped.

“What do you mean?” he asked defensively, wondering how many replicator rations he’d have to sacrifice in the name of coffee before her mood improved.

“Creating this program! It’s … it’s ...”

“It’s what?” He stepped closer, starting to get annoyed.

“It’s inappropriate!”

Chakotay stopped moving and gave her a sad look. “I was happy here, and for a while I thought you were, too. Forgive me for wanting to remember that.”

At the look in his eyes, all her anger dissipated and a rush of tender feelings melted in. “Oh, Chakotay.” She put down her cup and reached up to place a hand on his chest. “I was happy here.”

“Were you, Kathryn?” He covered her hand with his own, moving closer again.

“Well …” She bit her lip and sent him a glance from under her eyelashes. “I could have been happier…”

In a rush their lips met in a scalding kiss. Chakotay’s hands were urgent as they pulled her closer, stroking down her back, winding into her hair. She tugged at his uniform jacket until he shrugged it off and went to work on her own. His hands were trembling as he eased off her turtleneck and tank to reveal the pink lace bra underneath. “So beautiful,” he said reverently, thanking every god and spirit anyone ever believed in that she didn’t go for Starfleet issue underwear.

She blushed under his scrutiny. “I’m glad you think so.”

His answer was muffled against her throat. Janeway moaned as his tongue traced a lazy path along the edge of her bra. He moved the lace aside with his teeth and kissed his way to her nipple. “Oh my God,” she gasped as he took her nipple between his lips, and then “Don’t stop now!” as he raised his head.

“Did you hear something?” he whispered.

She was just about to order him to shut up and get back to work when she heard it too: the unmistakable sound of the holodeck doors. “Tuvok,” they chorused in horror, and scrambled to get back into their clothes.

“Captain? Commander?” The Vulcan was almost at the cabin door.

“Just a minute,” the captain yelled frantically, struggling to pull her turtleneck back over her head. Chakotay helped her into his jacket and tried to shove his arms through the sleeves of hers, just in time to see Tuvok’s head appear around the open doorway. Janeway coughed. Chakotay sidled out past the Vulcan, holding his hands awkwardly in front of him.

Tuvok raised an eyebrow and tried not to notice the pheromones in the air. “Excuse me, Captain. When I was unable to reach you on the comm system, I deduced that the holodeck was indeed experiencing a malfunction.”

Janeway hardly heard him over the shame roaring in her ears. I did it again, she thought dismally. What the hell is wrong with me? Why can’t I keep my hands off my first officer? And will that damn Vulcan ever let us get past first base?

Straightening, she gave Tuvok a Category Three Death Glare, its effect only diminished by the fact that for some reason her uniform sleeves seemed to have stretched and were dangling past her fingertips. She rolled them up as unobtrusively as possible and stepped intimidatingly toward the Vulcan, stopping just in front of him. “Thank you, Ensign,” she said coldly, ripping the black-centred pip from his collar and marching regally past.

Tuvok’s shoulders sagged.

“Oh and by the way, Tuvok,” she tossed over her shoulder on her way out of the holodeck, “Mr Neelix is very much looking forward to his new kitchen assistant starting work tomorrow. Bright and early for the breakfast shift, Ensign.”

“Yes, Captain,” Tuvok said dutifully.