Charlene's Quaters [COMPLETE]
WHO: Spock and Charlene Masters [LOCKED]
WHAT: Post 'Incident' Meeting, a.k.a. What the Hell is Happening Here
WHERE: Charlene's Quarters
WHEN: After her Shift
WARNINGS: Angst, Probable Sexin'
Charlene got back from her shift feeling weird. Just all over freaking weird, like her skin was trying to jump off of the rest of her body or something. She didn’t know Commander Spock all that well, Jesus, they’d only spent a few hours together (was that it?). Not that she felt bad about almost ‘doing the deed’ as her brother Reese was fond of calling it, with a little obscene hip thrust with someone she barely knew, because in her mind sex was generally a recreational activity you had with someone you felt that connection with. And Lord above, had she felt it with her XO. She didn’t know what it all meant, but right now she didn’t care. She was happy, flush with the feeling of being desired by someone else and desiring them in return. And that was all she cared to think about it at the time.
But his messages to her had seemed weird. Part of it was just how she had observed he talked, but part of it was something off, so far from the almost playful banter that they’d had down in Engineering. It made her anxious, because the whole thing seemed like it would turn into something really awesome. Even if it was only like a friends who occasionally have really hot dirty sex. Because the Commander seemed to get her in a way other people were incapable of, and she rather though she got him in a similar way.
And that all led to this. Her freshly showered and wearing a pair of old grease-stained jeans, one of her nicer tan sweaters and pacing her room barefoot. For some reason she thought better without shoes. It didn’t make sense, but shit, she didn’t make sense a lot. She chewed absently on her lip, enjoying that slight twinge of pain left over from the last time he kissed her. “God, Charlie, you are such a teenage girl,” she reprimanded herself. “Get a grip, girl.”