The BLTS Archive- The Apprenticeship series
The Obligatory Janeway Needs Coffee Story: Just A Cup of Coffee
by Bridget Cochran (bjcochran@aol.com)

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1998

Inspired by my own caffeine withdrawal while on vacation.

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The padd hit the pile of padds with a cascade of clicks as the others
were displaced. Captain Janeway didn't want to see another report on
personnel, engineering status or ship's stores for a year. This barren
part of space had put them in dire straits as far as raw materials for
propulsion. That meant no replicator rations for anyone and Janeway
hadn't had a cup of coffee in a day and a half; her head was pounding.

She left the desk to stand at her viewport, lifting her heavy hair
from her neck.

Behind her the ready room door hissed open. She didn't turn from the
dark vista; only two people entered her ready room without
announcement, Tuvok and Chakotay. When the padd hit the surface of her
desk, she knew it wasn't Tuvok. She lifted her hair again, not moving
from the window.

Tom said nothing, knowing full well he wasn't who she thought he was.
"Your head hurt?" his soft voice betraying her.

She swiveled around, a surprised quirk on her mouth, a hand absently
massaging her forehead, to find Tom perched on her desk, his arms
crossed. Kathryn shook her head with care. "You're not who I thought
you were. You surprised me." Was she stating the obvious to cover
being caught off guard?

Tom's smile was unrepentant. Janeway continued to rub her brow as she
stepped toward her pilot. "You know, my head hurts so much, I could
swear I smell coffee." She held up her hand when he was about to
speak, she acknowledged the smile in his eyes. "I know. I know.
Caffeine is the only addictive stimulant still allowed by Starfleet. I
know all about its evils. I've quit before. Lots of times. It's hell,
but I'll get over it." She stopped and gave a frustrated shrug. "I'd
do almost anything for a cup right now."

"Anything?"

She tilted her head to examine his face, a frown between her eyes. His
smile was sheepish. "Do you have something to tell me, Lieutenant?"
Her eyes stared into his.

"Aye, Captain, I disobeyed a direct order."

"Is this a confession, Mr. Paris?" she asked leaning toward him, her
crossed arms matching his.

He scooted aside to present a small cup of steaming black coffee.
Kathryn looked at the cup, then into the smiling eyes as bright as
atmospheric sky.

She sighed and turned away from him skewered on the horns of a
dilemma. If she accepted the cup, she would be sanctioning his
disobedience of her order. That was one problem. Another was the
Captain partaking of a privilege denied others. That alone would keep
her from drinking the coffee. The resources would go to waste. Then
the crew would think seriously about wasting resources again.

Lord, just drink the coffee and forget it. How many other captains had
so monumental a choice to make regarding a cup of coffee? the wry part
of her brain wanted to know. She let her shoulders sag, but stiffened
at the unexpected fingers grasping her upper arms, she didn't pull
away.

"Kathryn, somebody else can drink it or it can go back into the
replicator. It's only a cup of coffee."

Janeway relaxed, leaning into her human backstop. "You know I can't
accept it, no matter how well intentioned the gesture."

"I know." He moved his arms across her breast bone. She was struck by
the easiness in his movements. His face tilted into her hair.

He smelled good. He felt good. She ran a graceful hand along his solid
forearm relaxing for the first time in hours, days.

"Maybe you should get something from the doctor."

She smiled at the stars and gently shook her head. "The monkey's on my
back. The worst is nearly over." She batted his hand as she broke
away. Tom let her go.

The couch was her destination and she sank onto it, unaware she was
rubbing her temple again. Tom sat beside her without her permission,
pulling her into his arms. She looked up at him questioning his
actions. But his eyes were warm; she felt the comfort he was offering.

Kathryn found her head in his lap. He answered the questioning look by
placing his fingers at her temples. And applying gentle pressure. For
long moments, she studied the face above her. He may have been aware
of her observation, but he concentrated on the rhythmic circles he was
making on either side of her head.

She stopped him by grasping his wrist, startled at the intense emotion
in her pilot's eyes. "Tom?" she breathed.

He said nothing, pulling her head off his lap. She couldn't stop him,
mesmerized, pulled in and up to his beautiful face. His eyes were like
a nova, shining bright, when his lips brushed hers.

Kathryn Janeway looked like a fish gasping for water as he withdrew
far too quickly. Her disappointment glittered, but Tom shook his head.
"I'd never take advantage of a woman going through chemical
withdrawal."

Kathryn sagged back onto his thighs and Tom found her incredulity
humorous, yet satisfying.

"You find me needy?" she needled. She would not relinquish his hand.

"Not needy exactly, just a little out of sync." He began to stroke her
hair, his other hand was still trapped in Kathryn's. She became drowsy
as he continued to stroke, eyes heavy from the strain of duty and lack
of stimulant. Letting go for a few minutes would hurt no one, she gave
way to sleep.

---

Time passed. Tom didn't bother to seek out a chronometer, as he
continued to stroke the soft hair. The ready room door slid open and
he looked up to see Tuvok enter, and stop when he found Tom sitting
with the Captain sleeping on his lap. He moved no further, noting Tom
was completely at ease with the present situation; the hand never
slowing as he met the Vulcan's bland eyes.

"She did not drink the coffee," the Lt. Commander said.

Tom shook his head. "Principle. Is there something that needs her
attention?"

"Negative. I was worried about her medical condition." Tuvok clasped
his hands behind him in relaxation.

Tom arched a brow. "Worried?" That was an emotion. Tuvok remained
silent, apparently content with conveying the emotion to his junior
officer. Tom was amazed at this tacit disclosure, and said nothing. He
knew Tuvok did not miss Janeway's small hand clasping his larger one
to her chest, yet he didn't move it. He didn't feel it was necessary:
Tuvok made no comment, found no issue in their intimacy. The Vulcan
cared about the Captain, making his affection known by his unwavering
failty to her command.

"She wouldn't drink the coffee, so I rubbed her head. She fell
asleep."

Tuvok nodded. "She should sleep for hours."

Tom laughed. "A shuttle could land in here and she wouldn't know it."

"An exaggeration."

Tom nodded.

Tuvok's eyes lowered to his Captain's still face. "She seems to be
benefiting from your--" he paused, lips pursed, in search of a
word--"ministrations."

"Thanks," Tom said, hoping the one word covered everything as Tuvok
turned and exited without additional comment.

"Tuvok's a good man," said the sleep deepened voice on his lap. Tom
said nothing. He was never sure where he stood with the Vulcan,
somewhere between distaste and tolerance. He'd take her word for it.
She opened clear eyes to him. His hand stilled on her forehead.

"How do you feel?" his voice was barely a murmur.

"So much better than I did before." Her tone matched his, she clutched
the hand on her chest for emphasis. He lifted the hand, grasping it
now, palm upward , to his lips, burying them at its sensitive center.
She watched him enthralled, unable to move even if she wanted. The
tingling was real; it paralyzed all but her heart beat. Her heart,
though, was threatening to pound through her chest.

"Tuvok to Paris." The communicator sounded harsh to their ears,
pulling them back into reality. He lowered the small hand from his
lips.

"Go ahead."

"We have discovered a Class M planet at a distance. We shall arrive in
approximately four hours."

"Understood. Out."

The spell was broken, the Captain was already sitting up and
stretching the kinks out of her back. Before she stood to face what
was ahead, she turned to face her helmsman.

He was quiet again, his face carefully bland and Kathryn felt
something akin to bereavement at the intimacy she had to push aside.
The prospect of garnering supplies, or at least raw materials had to
take precedence over her personal needs. For now, at least. She could
see that Tom understood, but she also saw he was as disappointed at
the call to duty as she was herself.

---

The End