Author: Ky

Disclaimer:  Show’s not mine. Song belongs to Bryan Adams.

Notes: For amandal557 - who came up with the idea and then had a bad night to deserve me writing it.

Date: 08/04/08

***

I don't look good in no Armani Suits
No Gucci shoes - or designer boots
I've tried the latest lines from A to Z
But there's just one thing that looks good on me

***

Chakotay surveyed the buffet before him with something approaching mild dismay.

Neelix had tried - he always did, Chakotay would credit him that much - but all of his cooking 'experiments' seemed to result in food poisoning for at least one of the senior staff and Chakotay had a bad feeling tonight would be his night.

He'd been late to the party because of back to back meetings that had filled his afternoon and some of his evening. Because of this, the selection of food left was less than desirable. But it was that or use what little replicator rations he had left and Chakotay just wasn't willing to spare it.

"Dismal, isn't it?"

He turned to the woman at his side and smiled. "You were late too?"

"Yes.” She sighed as she looked at the food. “Didn't even have time to change."

Her stained uniform attested to that fact. "Problems?"

"Nothing I can't handle." She waved the concern away before she took a deep breath and picked up one of the spoons in a dish that looked like it could have come out of something nasty. "So who are you sleeping with, then?"

Chakotay almost dropped the plate he was holding. "I beg your pardon?"

She didn't hesitate as she gave them both a very conservative spoonful of the... stuff. "I said; who are you sleeping with?"

"What makes you think I'm sleeping with someone?"

Before she could reply, Tom joined them. "The Doctor kept me late." He explained. "I think he wants me to be the next Neelix victim to punish me."

"Punish you for what?" Chakotay asked, willing the other man to leave so he could continue questioning her.

Tom raised an eyebrow. "Does he need a reason?"

She chuckled as she turned back to the food to scoop them all out something else that was just as unattractive as the first dish.

While her back was turned, Chakotay took the chance to shoot Tom a look that, in man-speak, meant 'Go away, I'm trying to get somewhere here.'

Of course, the problem with man-speak was that the recipient needed to get it.

Tom didn't get it. "You feeling OK?"

Chakotay sighed and silently vowed to corner her later and demand an explanation. "Fine. Just concerned about dinner."

***

Despite his best intentions, Chakotay had found himself with the Doctor for company the rest of the evening, not her.

He took no comfort in the fact that he'd been right about who the next victim of Neelix's enthusiasm was to be. Especially since his right-ness had come with stomach cramps from hell.

As soon as the Doctor cleared him the next morning, Chakotay sought her out, finding her with her head bent over a PADD, brow furrowed as she read.

"Why are you so adamant that I'm sleeping with someone?" He demanded, not bothering with anything as simple as a greeting.

"Oh please," She rolled her eyes as she looked up, "Next to a few certain individuals that shall not be named to protect the guilty, you're the Man-whore of Voyager."

"I am not!"

She snorted in the least un-ladylike fashion possible. "Don't get me wrong, you're very discreet and all... but you're still the Man-Whore of Voyager."

"And that's your reasoning?" He asked, arms folded across his chest even as he tried to convince himself that this was not going to make him pout. "That's all you've got?"

"Oh no," She shook her head seriously, "I have a perfectly logical explanation."

"And that would be?"

"Bridge to Chakotay."

He swore mentally and glared at her as he tapped his comm. badge. "Chakotay here."

"There's an alien vessel approaching. ETA five minutes."

"I'm on my way." He tapped the link closed and pointed a finger at her. "We'll finish this later."

***

Four days later, he finally decided to try again.

And he had a plan this time, too.

After three botched attempts to talk to her - the third being prematurely ended by a comm. call that she'd had to attend to - he decided to go about it logically and with a way that guaranteed him at least five minutes of uninterrupted time with her.

So he made an appointment.

He suspected that she laughed her ass off when she saw the request come through, but she'd granted it and he found himself seated across from her as she stared at him, clearly trying - and failing - to look innocent.

"Go on." He urged.

"What?" She asked, her head cocked to the side. "You didn't specify what the meeting was about. Should I pick a random topic?"

"You know why I'm here."

"Well, not really. You didn't specify what the meeting was about." She repeated.

"B'Elanna."

"Yes?"

"B'Elanna."

"Your clothes."

"Well that explains everything!" He snorted and quietly wondered if he'd worn anything with a... questionable stain on it recently. "What about my clothes?"

"They tell a woman many things, you know."

"Like what? Like I don't want to wander around naked?"

"If you're going to mock me, I'm not going to tell you anything."

He sighed. "I won’t mock."

"Really?"

"I promise."

"Okay." She eyed him warily for a moment. "Well-"

"B'Elanna?"

No! He snapped. "For the love of God, go away!"

The Ensign that had opened B'Elanna's office door and stuck her head in visibly blanched. "My apologies, Sir. I'll come back later."

The door closed again before he could reply.

When he turned back, B'Elanna looked like she'd happily rip his head off and feed it to something big and scary. "Terrorising my staff won't help your case either."

"I'll apologise when we're done."

"You'd better."

"I will." He promised. "Now, please, tell me what my clothes have to do with your opinion on my personal life."

"Well, it's a known fact that women tend to, whether by intention or not, change men, yes?"

He didn't think he'd be betraying his gender by agreeing. "Yes."

"Well, recently, your clothes have started to get a little... shall we say, better?"

Now he was lost. "What?"

"OK." She sighed and her voice took on that slow, patronizing tone that he knew was buried inside every woman. "You know that olive green suit you have? The one with the broken yellow pinstripes? You wore it with a grey shirt."

He loved that suit. "Yes..."

"Well, it's, uh... shall we say, in a word, ugly." She grimaced, clearly uncomfortable with trying to break the news gently. "In more than one word; Ugly as Sto'vo'kor. In quite a few words-"

"Hey!"

B'Elanna rolled her eyes and held her hand up, palm facing him, to silence him. "Chakotay, for the sake of this argument, pretend you agree with me."

He really loved that suit. "Okay. For the sake of this argument, I agree with you."

"Good. Well, let's just say that it is the general opinion of... people," He had a feeling that by 'people' she actually meant 'anyone with eyes.' "That you need to burn that suit."

"Why?"

"Focus!" She snapped.

"Okay. I get it. People hate the suit. What does that have to do with my alleged man-Whore status?"

"That suit hadn't been seen for some months now."

"Well..."

"You love that suit."

Finally, she had something right! "I do."

"Why else would you stop wearing it if not for a woman subtly mentioning that she'd rather see you in dark slacks and a nice button-down shirt?"

Well. That was odd logic if ever he'd heard it. It scared him a little that he understood it. "I see your point."

She smiled. "I knew you would."

"So." What was one supposed to follow that up with, he wondered. "I'm going to get back to work now."

"Okay."

Nodding, he shook his head a little - with a mental eye-roll and an exclamation of Women! to boot - before he stood and turned toward the door.

"Hey, Chakotay?"

He paused, turning. "Yes?"

"Tell the Captain I said she has good taste. In men and clothes." She winked.

He smiled.

***

End