The captains birthday

Tom Paris walked slowly down the corridor. B'Elanna's snoring had woken him early, much to his mumbled annoyance. It meant, however, that he could take a leisurely walk to the mess hall for coffee and a chat with Neelix before his shift on the bridge was due to begin.

Maybe her snoring wasn't that bad, he thought, a smile quirking his lips as he remembered how innocent his partner had appeared in slumber. The image of B'Elanna wrapped up in the white sheets was a vivid and distracting one; he didn't notice the rhythmical click of footsteps behind him until a voice shook him out of his thoughts.

"Lieutenant Paris,"

"Hmm? Oh, good morning Seven," he smiled, and the pair walked together, "How are you?"

"I am functioning within normal parameters," she replied, scanning her memories of the Doctor's etiquette lessons for a suitable response, "thank you for asking. Lieutenant Torres informed me that you are up earlier than usual, was your sleep satisfactory?"

Tom looked amused at this.

"You woke B'Elanna, and survived to tell the tale? Seven, I'm impressed," he joked, and then looked slightly perplexed as he realised that Seven had been looking for him, "is there something I can help you with?"

Seven felt relieved that Tom had offered his help before she had needed to ask for it. She showed her gratitude with a stiff nod of her head.

"I require your assistance in a matter of humanity," they paused momentarily, allowing the mess hall doors to open fully, "I have observed that on an individual's date of birth, there is a celebration. Correct?"

"Yes, but you knew that already. You've been to countless birthday parties for the crew," he frowned, turning to the replicator, "do you want anything?"

"I do not require…" she paused to rephrase, "…no. Thank you."

Once they were seated, and Tom had taken a couple of sips from the steaming mug, Seven continued to talk about birthdays and ask questions. Tom listened with wavering concentration, and spoke only when Seven's tone told him it sounded appropriate. Seven, surprisingly, appeared unaware that she did not have Tom's undivided attention; she continued to talk for some moments.

"…I have noted for some time that the captain has received no such celebration, and as it is her birth-day tomorrow, I felt it appropriate that we…"

Seven paused. Looking at the stunned lieutenant, she couldn't help but feel faintly amused at his horrified expression, at the hand he had hastily clapped over his mouth. He had managed to splutter coffee not only onto his uniform, but also right across the table and onto Seven's biosuit. She brushed the worst of it from her chest and neck.

"Your range is impressive, lieutenant," Seven raised an eyebrow, "however, your reflexes leave something to be desired."

"Oh, Seven," he said, mortified and trying to clean up some of the mess, "I'm really sorry, but… the captain's birthday? I've been trying to find that out for years! How on Earth did you know?"

If Tom hadn't known her better, he could have sworn that Seven had rolled her eyes at him in response. The once terse reply that Seven had given to… just about anything, was replaced with what was for Seven, an utterly sarcastic tone.

"I am Borg."

"You hacked into her personal database, huh?"

"I sent a message to her mother. She responded in our latest data transfer from Starfleet."

"Sneaky!" Tom was impressed, "well, count me in."

"What led you to the conclusion that I had hacked into Captain Janeway's personal files?"

The smile that spread across Tom's face could have left her in no doubt as to what he was thinking. Seven felt quite shocked at being caught out. He leaned in across the sticky surface of the table, and quietly said:

"I just know that you're… interested, in the captain."

With that, he gave her a friendly grin and left the mess hall.