Summary: Five times Janeway and Chakotay definitely did it, and one time they didn't.
Characters: Janeway, Chakotay
Notes: Facts, and nobody can convince me otherwise.
Disclaimer: Characters are Paramount’s. No infringement intended.
The fractures between them have widened, been patched over and cracked open again, and some nights, Kathryn wonders if what they were has worn so thin that there’s nothing left.
Then he shows up for dinner with Antarian cider, and he’s flirting with her, and it’s different, because she’s always been the flirty one, but now he’s confident, sensual in a way he has never been with her before. And she can’t help but respond.
He’s teasing her, doling out little hints about the temporal prime directive, and it’s almost as maddening as the way his thigh brushes hers as he pours another glass, or the way his fingers drift over her nape as he stretches his arm across the back of the couch. And, maddened, she flirts back, moistening her lower lip with her tongue, curving her body nearer to his, lowering her voice to that husky drawl that always makes him shiver.
Only not this time.
Because when the bottle is empty, he rises from the couch and clears the dirty glasses away, and with a brief, friendly clasp of her shoulder and a good night, Captain, he leaves her alone.
Alone with the stars, and wanting, and wishing so many, many things could be different.