Fan Fiction
TITLE: Warmth
AUTHOR: Brenda Shaffer-Shiring
RATING: PG
CODES: C/T
AUTHOR'S NOTES: A response to the "Light and Dark" holiday challenge. Also partly inspired by Jaye, who suggested that Chakotay's notion of romance might take a practical bent.
SUMMARY: An unexpected gift redeems B'Elanna's worst Christmas ever.
B'Elanna Torres rubbed her hands together as she hunched closer to the fire. Of all the Christmases B'Elanna had ever had, this was possibly the worst. Stuck on a barren, near-Arctic planet with a motley assortment of companions and a battered Maquis raider that *might* fly again, if she could get the drive up and running, if the power didn't drain from its batteries in the meantime, if her fingers didn't freeze off at the knuckles before she could get anything done at all.... She sighed. This was even worse than Christmases on Kessik, after B'Elanna's father had left and her mother had told her bluntly that Santa Claus was a foolish Terran myth. At least back on Kessik B'Elanna had still been able to see lights and hear music; at least then she'd still received the occasional little gift from a new classmate or a favorite teacher. Here, she was cut off from any sign of celebration.
Off in the distance, she could hear her companions whooping and hollering. Taking advantage of the break Chakotay had ordered, the idiots had decided it was playtime. If B'Elanna lifted her head and looked, she knew she would find them running and diving in the nearby field, pelting one another with snowballs.
B'Elanna hated snowball fights. It seemed far too bizarre to her that anyone could even tolerate such ghastly weather as this, let alone that they should *enjoy* it. "I hate being cold," she muttered.
Giving up on trying to warm her hands at the fire, she tucked them under her arms and huddled more deeply into her inadequate coat. Chakotay hadn't planned on landing Crazy Horse in such a cold locale -- as so often, he'd simply had to settle for the first moderately habitable place he could find. It wouldn't have mattered if he'd announced such intent weeks ahead of time, though; she had no warmer clothes to bring. It wasn't as if she'd had the chance to pack her luggage before she'd joined the Maquis.
Sunk in misery, she didn't hear the crackle of booted feet walking across ice-encrusted snow until the owner of said feet was right behind her.
"B'Elanna?" The soft baritone was Chakotay's.
She didn't turn, didn't want him to see her face.
After a moment, he hunkered down beside her. "B'Elanna," he said again, gently.
"What?" she growled.
"Merry Christmas."
She turned to look at him then, feeling as if she'd been jabbed in a sore spot. Chakotay, of all people, mocking her. Dammit, she knew this crew had more than its share of assholes, but she'd never thought he might be one of them. "Funny, Chakotay. Real goddamn funny."
But he didn't look as if he were making fun of her. His face was open and guileless beneath that arching tattoo. "I'm not kidding," he said simply, and it was then that she saw the bulky, cloth-wrapped package in his long-fingered hands. He thrust it toward her. "Merry Christmas."
"But--" Startled, confused, she stammered the first words that came into her head. "But you don't celebrate Christmas."
"You do." Again he thrust the package forward. "Take it, B'Elanna."
She reached out to claim it, feeling its soft yielding in her cold-numbed fingers.
"I didn't have any paper," he said, half-apologetically, "but I thought..."
Hands shaking from the frigid temperature, and perhaps from something else, B'Elanna undid the bundle...and gasped as she withdrew a heavy jacket. Twin to one she'd sometimes seen Chakotay wear, the coat was velvety soft and lined with something that looked deliciously fleecy. With a chuckle that was half surprise, half pure delight, she slid into it and did up the fastenings. Oh gods, it was just as warm as it looked. Thrusting her hands into the deep pockets, she found a ridiculous-looking knit tossel cap. Yanking it down over her head, she shoved her hands back into the pockets, and was comfortable at last.
Luxuriating in the sensation, it was a moment before she looked up at Chakotay. He was smiling, the full lips curved up in an expression half-merry and half-wistful, a soft light in his brown eyes.
Her own smile was grateful. "Thanks, Chakotay." The quick downward cast of her eyes indicated the coat. "Where did you get this?"
He shrugged, glancing away. "Had it. Nia'ap showed me how to cut it down."
She looked at him fully for the first time since he'd come out, and realized that he was wearing his blue jacket, a woolen garment less heavy than the one around her own shoulders. No wonder her jacket looked just like one of his. "Oh, Chakotay--" She wanted to tell him she wouldn't take his coat, but his gaze came back to her with just a hint of anxiety, and she knew she couldn't refuse it. Swallowing, she tried to move on. "And the hat?"
He snorted, looking a little bemused. "That? I made it."
She snorted too, at the image of the fearless Maquis leader bent over a ball of yarn, needles clicking in his hands. "I didn't know you knitted."
"I have many skills," he rumbled, in a blatant and entirely unsuccessful effort to sound mysterious and seductive. When their shared chuckle subsided, B'Elanna stretched her booted toes toward the fire, almost purring with contentment. "Merry Christmas, B'Elanna," he said again, softly.
"I don't have anything for you," she said with a touch of guilt.
He smiled. "Don't worry about it. I don't celebrate Christmas, remember? Though there's one part of it I always liked."
That made her curious. "What part?"
"The part with the mistletoe." That touch of anxiety was back in his eyes now, along with the earlier wistfulness and warmth.
So far as she knew, no man had ever directed that look at her before. Nonetheless she knew, as every woman knows -- in her heart, in her bones, in the glow of happiness that warmed her from the inside out -- what it meant. That Chakotay of all people should give *her* such a look... "We don't need mistletoe," she said roughly, withdrawing her hands from her pockets so that she could wrap both arms around his neck and kiss him. Strong arms wrapped themselves around her own back as he returned the kiss, deeply and tenderly. After a moment they settled down again before the fire, his strong arm holding her close.
There were still no Christmas lights, no songs, no gifts but the one she had already received. And yet, of all the Christmases B'Elanna had ever had, this was certainly the best.
