For @ariella884 who was basically writing her own version of this in our bookclub chat earlier…
Imagine oversleeping and Chakotay has to come wake you.
Your alarm has been going off for at least an hour. Somewhere deep inside your bones you’ve felt the vibrations. Several times over you’ve told the computer to shut the hell up and add ten more minutes, but you did it in such a fog that you can’t really be sure it wasn’t a dream.
The last time, you turned off the reminders completely. That part was definitely real.
Fatigue wracks every part of your being on this day. It’s been too many mornings of 0600 wake up calls. Too many nights of extended shifts. Too many months without shore leave. Too many years without home.
If someone on this godforsaken vessel really needs you to report to duty, they can come get you in person.
Yes. In person, you think. Let Chief Torres or Captain Janeway care enough about the fact that you’re late to key in an override and drag you to your station in your pajamas. Or, better yet, Commander Chakotay. Crew issues are his responsibility, you remember. Let him come reprimand you. Put me on report, you dare him. This is really his fault, after all.
My record is pristine, you think with a yawn. I deserve another hour. And your eyes drift closed once again.
You don’t notice your combadge chirp repeatedly, nor do you hear the door chime. But what you do perceive is that something has changed in the room around you. In the pitch black you know that you’re no longer alone. Well, hot damn. Someone did care enough to come get me, you think. I wonder who -
“Computer.” The voice is deep and soft. “Lights at twenty-five percent.”
And now you know who has come. You moan and pull the cover over your head dramatically.
“Hey, you alright under there?” His concern is obvious and for just a moment you feel badly for having worried him.
The side of your bed dips slightly and you know he’s sitting beside you now. His warmth radiates out, seeping into your covers. The next thing you feel is a strong hand stroking your back.
“It’s not like you to be late,” he says. “In fact, I’m not sure you’ve ever missed a duty shift.”
“I haven’t,” you say into the fabric.
“Then what’s happened? Are you sure you’re feeling okay? Maybe I should get the Doctor…”
The very sincere disquiet in his voice makes your heart skip a beat. The man cares deeply, it’s one of the things you love about him. Having his undivided attention is a wonderful feeling, but suddenly you only want to assure him that you’re alright.
With a swish and a grin, you throw back the covers. In another swift movement, you’ve grabbed him by the front of his jacket - taking him by surprise and off-balance - which makes it easy to yank him on top of you.
Your lips crash onto his and he gasps, then succumbs. His momentary shock subsides and he smiles into the kiss, deepening it. Your hands work along the taut muscles of his upper back while his find their way on either side of you. You hook his shoulders and he’s moved all the way on top of you now, straddling your waist, controlling things as he loves to do.
Panting, he pulls his mouth from yours. “So you really are okay then?”
“Chakotay. I told you, I’m fine,” you smile. “I just wasn’t properly woken up.”
“I’m sorry, Love,” he says, laying another peck on your forehead. “I had that early meeting and I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“Mm hm,” you smile mischievously.
“You really aren’t a morning person,” he explains further.
He hesitates and then grins. “You’re a good late-night person.”
“Ha! Smooth.” You raise yourself up slightly in hopes of continuing what you had started, but he pulls away.
“Seriously though, we’re both on duty.”
“I know,” you sigh, flopping back. “I’m sorry. I’ve put you in an awkward position.”
He raises an eyebrow and smirks, looking down to the way he’s still pinning you to the bed. “I wouldn’t say awkward, exactly…”
You push your hands against his chest and he moves aside. “The Chief is probably furious with me.”
“She was just concerned, like I was. Make up the hour at the end of shift and all will be forgiven.” You reach for your trousers and pull them on while he fetches your boots. “But,” he warns with a stern finger, “don’t do that again, ok?”
“Not for at least another six years,” you mock, then seeing he’s not amused, you add a very sincere, “I won’t, I promise.”
“Good.” He hands you your jacket. “We all have days like this, next time request a few hours off.”
“You’re right. I will,” you agree, putting on the garment. “You know, I’ll probably be relegated to cleaning deuterium manifolds for this.”
You affix your combadge. “There’s a lot of crouching and crawling and squeezing into tight places with that job.”
“Indeed.” He walks you from your bedroom while you pull your hair up.
“Which means I’ll be really sore later.”
He grins. “You’re not very subtle.”
You shrug. “Never was my strong suit.”
“I’ll bring the massage oil, and dinner,” he says with a smile. “But otherwise we’re taking it easy tonight, I can’t be the reason you oversleep again.”
“Deal,” you acquiesce, offering him a hand to shake. He kisses you gently instead.
Exiting to the hallway, you turn left and he turns right. After a few steps, he calls after you. “Make sure you stop by the mess hall before you report, Ensign. B’Elanna doesn’t need her staff showing up late and hungry.”
