Those Bastardly Barbers of the Delta Quadrant by Puck
	The mood on Voyager's bridge wasn't particularly unusual. Chakotay sat in the Captain's chair, reading his reports. Paris tapped absently on his console, making the adjustments subconsciously. Harry Kim worked on something – gods know what, but he's a workaholic, he's always working on something – and Tuvok ran several tests on the tactical systems before recalibrating and running them over. Captain Janeway was holed away in her ready room, presumably reading crew evaluations. All in all, everything was perfectly in order, just as it should be. "Janeway to Chakotay. Please join me in my ready room." Chakotay set down the PADD he'd been skimming without a second thought. "On my way, Captain." He replied, nodding the bridge over to Tuvok as he strode up the stairs towards Janeway's office. When he entered, she was not buried in a pile of evaluation PADDs, as he'd expected, but rather tugging absently at her hair and gazing at her small viewscreen. She looked up and smiled. "Ah, Commander!" She greeted him warmly. "You may find this somewhat strange, but I need your help." Chakotay smiled good-naturedly. "Not at all strange, Captain. I'm the first officer, that's my job!" "No, no, no, no! Not the fact that I need help… no, what you're going to find odd is the request I'm going to make." She grinned evilly and winked at him as she slowly rose out of her chair. Chakotay gulped and a thousand possibilities raced through his mind as to what she was about to say. "Sleep with me, Chakotay!" or "Father my child, Chakotay!" or even "Kiss me, Chakotay!" would suit him just fine. But, just as she had said, what she was about to ask of him would truly shock him to no end. "Would you cut my hair for me?" Those seven words hit Chakotay one right after the other, each one like a speeding landcruiser crashing into him and jarring him out of his fantasies. When he finally regained his senses, he realized she was looking at him with a worried expression, and he quickly righted himself and attempted to clear his throat before squeaking out, "Ex-excuse me?" "I realize this may sound sort of drastic, but I really can't stand to let this mane get any longer. Besides, I think it's time for a change of pace anyway. So, will you help me?" Janeway placed a warm hand on his shoulder and smiled playfully, daring him to refuse. And refuse he could not. "Of course, Captain. Though I warn you, my haircutting skills are quite limited." "Well, we don't have the benefit of Picard's Mot, you know. And even though Neelix would probably tout his hairstyling abilities as the best in the quadrant, I'd be scared to even try. And, best in the quadrant isn't saying much. Just look at the Kazon." She gave a small laugh. "Besides, I saw how Ensign Wildman's turned out a couple years ago. Rumor has it you were responsible for that, and it looked divine." Rather than explaining to her that he was responsible (except the cut had been purely accidental and had involved him stumbling with a bat'leth in hand, which had sliced Wildman's hair clean off below the shoulders), Chakotay opted to smile nervously and keep his mouth shut. Janeway eyed him. "So, how's fourteen hundred sound? During lunch?" "That sounds just fine, Captain." Chakotay responded, thankful that the squeak had at least partially disappeared from his voice. Janeway nodded and sat down, returning to work. Chakotay took his cue and stumbled out of the ready room as gracefully as possible, even though he felt as though he was going to pass out. "Tuvok, call me if anything important happens. I have to, uh, brush up on a few things. I'll be in my office." The bridge crew watched him depart discreetly, but they were all wondering the same thing. As the office doors closed behind the commander, Tom voiced their curiosity: "What's eating him?" Three hours later, Chakotay threw the scissors down in disgust and ignored that clang they made as they bounced under his table. Five attempts at practicing his hairstyling skills, and all five models had turned out looking like something out of the old earth musical, "Hair". It was almost 13:45, so he sighed and dumped the shards of hair down the recycling slot. The computer beeped in resentment. "What the hell is this!?" It asked. "Hair, you babbling piece of…" "I know what it is, you fool. My question is, how did you get it to take this shape!?" Chakotay stormed out of his office, leaving the scissors on the ground. 1400 Hours Chakotay paced around in the Captain's ready room, absently twirling the scissors over his fingers. He'd managed to get all of his equipment into the room discreetly, though he figured that Tuvok probably knew something was up. He just hoped that he was able to get out of this without completely mangling Janeway's beautiful hair. Just as he was starting to invoke a little self-confidence (the third model hadn't been TOO painful to look at), the doors swished open and in walked Janeway, fiddling with her ponytail and smiling. "Good afternoon, Captain," Chakotay tried to sound assuring, but failed miserably. "Commander," Janeway replied, giving her ponytail one last tug before her hair fell easily into place down her back. "Shall we use the bathroom?" "All right," Chakotay agreed, gathering up his combs, brushes, and various other tools he was hoping he wouldn't need. Janeway eyed the armful of equipment. "You really think you'll need all of that for a trim? You must REALLY be good," she said playfully. Chakotay smiled in return, wishing with all his strength for a red alert, or, even better, that someone would accidentally beam him into space. In the bathroom, he didn't feel any better, and a feeling of nausea swept up into his stomach as Janeway sat on a small chair and covered her uniform with the large plastic sheet he had brought. I'm going to die, he thought. It has to be considered a mortal sin to maim that hair… I'm going to die a very painful death. Out loud, he sounded desperately cheery, but Janeway did not seem to notice. "Okay," he said, fumbling for his brush. "Here we go." "Just about three or four inches off, no layers." Janeway said, taking out a PADD to work on while she waited. "Sure," Chakotay said amiably, thankful that he could start with three inches, and then take another bit off if it looked like hell. After he got past four inches though, he wasn't sure what he would do… One hour later. "Chakotay," Janeway remarked irritably. "I'm getting the distinct feeling that you're cutting one hair at a time." Chakotay laughed. "I assure you that isn't true, Captain. Don't worry, it won't be much longer." Truthfully, he had only managed to bring himself to cut two or three hairs, and had spent the rest of the hour combing and detangling to buy time. Time for what, he didn't know. Hopefully a dire emergency on the bridge. He toyed with the idea of calling red alert himself, but eventually sighed and picked up the scissors. Praying, he began to work. After fifteen minutes, Chakotay was beginning to panic. Her hair wasn't anything like the models he'd replicated. In fact, it reminded him somewhat of the captain who brushed it everyday. Stubborn, unpredictable, and beautiful. Of course, none of these things were making his task any easier. Neither did the fact that he couldn't stop noticing how intoxicating she looked with wet hair… Finally, after he'd blown her hair dry with the sonic blow dryer, he closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. After he gave her one last stalling sweep of the hairbrush, he gritted his teeth and handed her a mirror, sure that his life was about to end. Janeway shrieked. Chakotay ducked for cover, begging for mercy. "Chakotay!", she shouted. "I don't believe this!" Chakotay moaned. "I know, I'm sorry, Captain, it's a little more than three inches, I just wasn't prepared for your request, I'm sure we can add some growing proteins or something –" "Sorry? Chakotay, this is the best haircut I've ever had! I'm amazed!" She ran her fingers through her locks. "I think it makes me look a lot younger. Thank you so much!" She flew into his arms and squeezed him into a huge bear hug before discarding the plastic sheet, gathering up her PADDs, whistling, and walking out to the bridge. Chakotay stood, motionless, jaw agape. Was the woman blind? Didn't she see how it was all mussed and curling out everywhere? It looked nothing like her elegant hair of yesterday. Then again, that is what she wanted. She wanted a change of pace, and he supposed this was her way of, literally and metaphorically, letting her hair down in front of the crew. Now that he thought about it, this style was next in line for her. First, it had been the bun of steel, drawn back tighter than Seven's catsuit. Then, the softer, more easy-going bun, which still let them know she was in command, but she was also there to talk. Next was the ponytail, which Chakotay loved as it was the only way he could see her hair down on duty. And now, with this short, almost wild style, he assumed her to be saying that she was just like any one of them. Still the Captain, but also a mother and friend to all of them. Somewhat palliated with his theory, he smiled and chuckled, gathering up his things and dumping them into the recycler. Never again was he going to attempt anything like that. The next time he cut her hair, she'd probably end up bald. Chakotay shuddered at the thought and walked onto the bridge, where everyone's eyes were on him. "Nice job, Chakotay." Tom grinned. Chakotay stared at him to make sure he wasn't poking fun before smiling and nodding. He headed for his seat next to the newly styled Captain, who winked at him and gave him a feral grin. As he sat down, he felt his stomach drop to the floor with a thump as B'Elanna leaned over and whispered, "You know, I've been thinking of getting a perm…"