One morning Seven realizes that she doesn’t love Kathryn anymore. Granted, it doesn’t help that Kathryn’s got two fingers to the knuckle up her, so she should at least feel something. Mostly however, Seven feels bored, bored and sick. Maybe all her love has turned into poison and it makes her innards rot with every thrust and curl and twist of the fingers hammering between her thighs. Then again, it could be their routine. It’s the little things that are making her unhappy. Kathryn’s clothes on the floor and the dust on the shelves, selective deafness, no compromise, lame sex, demands, nagging, bitching, whining, moaning, boredom…it all builds up into a giant burning thing that she can’t stand and everything about Kathryn makes so called domestic bliss personal HELL!

Seven fakes her climax and takes a shower to wash away the smell of sex. Kathryn’s thrown out Seven’s soap again and she has to use Kathryn’s shampoo. Kathryn has an image of the perfect partner in her head. She keeps trying to mould Seven into it, but the edges chafe and Seven is never going to fit. Seven tries to tell her but Kathryn chooses not to hear.

In the bar on Deep Space Nine, Starfleet brass is having a ‘do’. Seven’s got a headache and still Kathryn makes her be there, because all the other officers are bringing their wives. Seven puts her clothes on but ends up changing because Kathryn likes it better when Seven wears red. She’d prefer to wear her hair up but Kathryn says it should be down. It isn’t Kathryn’s fault when they arrive ten minutes late. If Seven hadn’t been messing with her appearance then they would have been on time. She needs to be more mindful of Kathryn’s schedule. The heels that Seven’s wearing have no mercy on her feet. It would be nice to sit and drink but it's time for Seven to be taken on parade.

Kathryn hangs on to Seven like she is a shiny trophy. She pulls her ceaselessly around the bar and introduces her to women and men. Starfleet’s heroic Captain and her golden achievement: A Human rescued from the Borg. Almost like a real girl. Even realer than real! Janeway’s colleagues sigh in adoration.

Seven itches for someone new.

A woman with an earring is watching from the bar. Her expression is openly hostile like she has nothing but disdain for Starfleet wankery. She is species 2680. Bajoran, she seems harder than ice. Seven wants her anyway. Seven escapes from Kathryn and buys two whiskeys from the bar. She slides down next to the woman and pushes a glass into her hand. The Bajoran knocks the drink aside and snorts at Seven through her wrinkled nose. Captain Janeway’s trophy drone? Go away. I have better things to do.

Seven says fuck Kathryn and looks the Bajoran in the eye. She knows that she has intrigued her. The Bajoran doubted anyone would ever speak against Starfleet’s newest darling, least of all the darling’s trophy wife. She’ll drink with Seven after all. Her formal name is Colonel Kira, but her friends call her Nerys. Oh, and welcome to the station.

Seducing the Bajoran is like sucking down fresh air. The way Nerys throws her head back to swallow makes Seven sweat. She listens to the Colonel’s story of a man. It’s actually a story of many men, but there’s one that turns up often enough for Seven to understand they had an opportunity but they missed it. He was too insecure and too cowardly and by the time he came around to her it was too damn late and Seven has pretty eyes, like his were. Kira doesn’t elaborate on his eyes any more and they agree that love is shit and keep on drinking until Nerys likes Seven’s cleavage more than she likes her eyes. Their glasses are almost empty and Seven’s out of cash so Kira buys another round. Kira is the station commander, she says. So what if she’s getting really, really drink…drunk. Really drunk. She hasn’t had this much fun since Jadzia was around and that Ezri…pffft! She’s not the shame, the same, no, she’s not Jadzia at all. She leans heavily on Seven’s shoulder until her fingers sting from pins and needles. They buy another round and drink some more.

In a minute Kathryn finds them slumped happily at the bar. Seven is embarrassing herself now and the Colonel too. Kathryn thinks that Seven ought to be more grateful because if not for her intervention, she’d still be a mindless drone. Nerys snorts at Janeway and whispers into Seven’s ear. Seven nods and they sit there snickering until Kathryn pulls Seven’s drink away and says they should go home.

Seven does what Kathryn says but not how Kathryn planned. Nerys’s back slams hard against the door and Seven has yanked her tunic off over her head and is throwing it on the floor. In the corridor Kathryn hammers on the closed doors with her fist whilst Kira’s hands get tangled in Seven’s hair. Seven moans because her kisses taste like Hasperat and she can rub her cheek up Kira’s throat whilst she’s dragging down her pants. In counterpoint to the banging Kathryn swears that she’s going to fucking kill you Seven, you robot bitch, god damn it, as soon as she gets through this door. She’s going to throw your worthless body out of the airlock and watch your capillaries explode while you die in space. You whore, damn you listen to me!

Nobody is listening to Kathryn ranting. Nerys has her nails on Seven’s nipples and she’s making Seven beg for more. Noise drowns out Kathryn’s curses as they grind body to body against the wall. Seven’s red dress gets torn and dirty because they’re standing on top of it and the sweat from the Colonel’s thighs makes their torsos stick together even more. Kira screams out her man’s name and bites down hard on Seven’s neck until it stings. It’s over in five minutes and Seven’s coming on her ruined dress although she really doesn’t care. Nerys slides down the wall to sit next to her and she reaches for Seven’s hand. Their bodies are tingling and they can barely breathe. Again? A thud sounds exactly like Kathryn’s head against the door. Seven smirks and then they laugh. Definitely.

Fuck Janeway.

Love’s a bitch.

(end)