In Your Bed
By Djinn
Part 1 of 2
In your bed, I feel safe. Burrowed between the two of you, my stuffed rabbit secure beside me as I close my eyes and try to forget the monster I'm sure is under my bed but neither of you can ever find.
I love you and you're grown ups. Why can't you find it? Why can't you make it go away?
"Chrissie, go to sleep," one of you says so softly I can't tell which of you it was.
I'm already halfway there so I let go and sleep.
##
In your bed, I feel special. It's your birthday, and you and I are sharing your bed when we're supposed to be in the living room, safe in sleeping bags like all the other girls you invited to your sleepover. But you touched my hand once they were all asleep and said, "Chrissie, come on." And you led me up here.
You're the prettiest girl in third grade, and you picked me to come up here with you, to lie face to face, and giggle out secrets about the others and ourselves.
"What're you going to be when you grow up?" I ask you and you smile and say, "A starship captain" without hesitation.
My father's in Starfleet so I know women can't be one of those. But I don't tell you that.
You touch my face gently and your eyes practically reflect stars in the low light of a bedroom so pink and frilly that probably no one expects you to want such a big thing from life.
I believe it might happen for you. Anything you want seems to happen your way.
"Captain Janice Lester," you murmur, and then you pull me to you and kiss me.
I jerk away and you just laugh.
"We're practicing, silly. For boys." You stroke my hair—it's long and dark and you always say how shiny it is. "Besides, didn't you like it, Christine?"
I nod, because even though you surprised me, it did feel good. "But for boys."
"Right. For boys."
I'm already moving back to you before you get the last word out.
##
In your bed, I feel like a woman. I know I'm only seventeen, so technically I'm still a girl, but it's my first time, and you were sweet and gentle and you told me I'm beautiful.
And you made me come. Alicia's boyfriend never makes her come even though they've been together forever. She bitches about it constantly.
But you took your time, and I really like that.
I just wish I liked you more. You're handsome, and all. You're sort of beautiful, if you can call a guy that. But you're not the brightest mind I've ever met.
You're not even close.
But that's okay because I didn't pick you for your brains. I wanted to know what it felt like to have a gorgeous boyfriend that other girls wanted. And I wanted to have sex.
Virginity seemed like a millstone and now it's not.
Speaking of millstones, my goddamn chemistry midterm is in three days and I've been so busy letting you think you're chasing me that I've barely studied. No boy is worth throwing a grade away for. No boy is worth throwing anything away for. Even if the sex is really good.
"What are you thinking about?" you ask, and it sounds like you actually care.
"How much I love you." The lie comes easily. You look appeased. I wonder how soon I can leave and go study.
##
In your bed, I feel scandalous. You're the first man I've made love to—all the others were just boys. You're smart and you have a job, not just classes, and you don't care what my major is. You saw me at a bar where I was drinking, and you sidled up next to me and said something funny.
Something that if a younger guy said it, would have sounded lame and not at all sexy.
But you're very sexy. Then again, I've always been attracted to older men even if you're the first one I've done anything with.
You're lying on your side, staring at me, and every so often you reach out to touch my arm or my back. You seem amazed that you're in bed with me, which will probably get old fast, but right now feels pretty good.
"So what is finance like?" I ask, even though I know theoretically what it's probably like and don't give a shit if I'm wrong or not. But men like to talk about themselves, and you're no different.
Fortunately, you don't go on long. You seem to know when to shut up and kiss me again.
I kiss you back with a fever—and just like one, I'm pretty sure this thing we're doing will burn out and I'll go back to normal life, but for now, it feels like the right thing.
##
In your bed, I feel brilliant. You're older, but unlike the other lovers I've had who couldn't believe a young thing like me was in their bed, you don't seem so surprised.
You act as though I'm lucky to be in your bed, and so I feel that's probably true. Confidence can convince a girl of a lot.
And you're not cocky. You're the most intelligent person I've ever met, and you want to sleep with me, spend time with me, share experiments with me.
You're my professor, and I should not be sleeping with you, but I am and I don't care what anyone else thinks.
Not that we flaunt this. You insist on discretion, and I'm happy to go along because I've never felt this way about anyone—or had anyone make me feel this way about myself.
Different things and you manage them both.
I think we're more compatible than either of us expected. Bodies and minds. I'd say souls, too, but I'm not really a spiritual person, and you've taught me to be scientific when I view these things. Some of what we're feeling is just a normal biological imperative.
But there's more. And I know it. Biology might make you say "I love you" right after you come, but love makes you say it hours later.
You love me. And I love you. And everything's going to be all right now.
I feel like life is on track. Finally.
##
In your bed, I feel abandoned. I love you more than anything, but you're making me stay behind—to watch "our" experiments, you say, but that's bullshit and we both know it.
I've gotten cocky. That's what you're not saying. Flaunting our engagement with some of the other assistants like that stupid Andrea. Acting like I'm in some way critical—but damn it, I am critical. You've said so yourself.
And now you're running away, on your precious expedition that I helped you plan.
That I'm suddenly not welcome on.
Although that's not how you phrase it because you're no idiot.
I'm crucial back here, you say. You lie in bed and sleep like a baby while I obsess over why I'm not going with you.
At least Andrea's not going either. I hate the way you look at her—and I hate even more that you know not to look at her too long. You're attracted to her and who wouldn't be? She's so pretty and her curves have curves. She makes me feel gawky and clumsy.
But we'll both be here while you go make history.
Without me.
##
In your bed, I feel dirty. But I don't care. I need to find Roger and the best way is on a ship that's headed in the right general direction. And to get on said ship, I need some intervention, and who better than a lecherous admiral who likes lanky young blondes?
No one, that's who. Even if you do turn my stomach a bit, I don't care. I've made it clear what I want and what I'll trade for it.
And Starfleet is hurting for nurses. It's not like I'm going to be able to take a science billet. Those are hard to come by. I'm filling a post that you need to fill.
I'm even taking a condensed nursing course—all my experiments with Roger have been put on hold or given to someone else to finish.
This is my mission, now. Find my goddamned fiancé.
"You in there?" You knock on my head a little harder than is really necessary.
Guess you're ready for round two-yippee.
##
In your bed, I feel vindicated. I've searched and searched and now I've found you.
And it's better than I remember. But you've been without me, so of course you missed me.
Even if you made a goddamn android of Andrea to keep you company. Really? You keep saying she's just an assistant, and your ardor for me does go a long way to convincing me you're a man who's gone without sex for quite a while, but why her?
Why did it have to be her?
Then again, you never need to know I told our Vulcan first officer that I love him. That it wasn't just the virus making me say that: I actually do love him.
I was lonely. He was kind, in an unemotional way. Not unlike you on your more distracted days. So sue me, I fell for him.
You don't need to know. We're together and we'll go back to Earth and somehow I'll get out off the ship and we'll be happy finally.
Everything's going to be all right now.
##
In your bed, I feel comforted. I never expected to be here. But we've become masters of the long hug. You crying over the captain. Me over first Roger and then Spock.
Me wanting to kill Spock for what he said to you about the captain and his goddamn interesting qualities after he nearly raped you. Sensitivity training all around for these boys, if you ask me.
It's nice to hold you. You're soft and you cuddle into me and somehow I'm the one taking the lead in this. I'm the one that kissed you as you cried. I'm the one that took our clothes off.
I'm the one that kissed down your throat, to your collarbone and breasts and...
The captain is missing out. That's for sure.
"This isn't what I want," you murmur into my shoulder.
"I know." It hurts, though. So soon after Roger. It hurts that you don't seem to even want me to stay the night.
I grab my clothes.
"Don't go." You clutch at me like I hold the answer to every question.
As far as mixed messages go, you're the queen. "What do you want me to do?"
"No more sex. Just...sleep with me. Like a slumber party."
"Was the sex bad?" Can't I just let go of this?
"No. It's just... You're not him, okay. I'd be saying the same thing to one of the guys."
Knowing you, you probably would, so I let go of my hurt feelings and settle back in next to you. "You need to leave," I say softly. "You're too close."
"Says the woman with the crush that won't quit."
"But I don't work for him. If I did, I'd be gone."
"Do you ever think of McCoy that way?" you ask and I laugh. You never fail to surprise me where you go with conversations. You zig when I think you'll zag.
"No. He's not my type." And he can get mean. I leave that part out, though. You'd read him the riot act if you thought he was treating me badly—that's the kind of friend you are.
"You won't tell Ny we did this, will you?" You sound like this is something we should be ashamed of.
"Jesus, let it go. It's our fucking secret."
You start to laugh. "No it's our secret fucking." Your eyes sparkle, and I wonder how the captain can see you and not want you.
Or how, because I can't imagine him not wanting you, he manages to stay away.
##
In your bed, I feel awkward. Well, technically it's more of a blanket than a bed, and I seem to still be half dressed.
These fucking spores. I'm not even sure what your name is.
I pull the rest of my uniform on and tell you to forget this happened. Thank God you're a member of Sandoval's group. I won't have to see you again after this mission.
"It was fun," you say softly.
"Yeah, great." But I'm not sure it was. The spores made everything cotton candy and rainbows. I don't think I even came once. In fact, I'm not sure we technically had sex. It was more the kind of making out you do when you're flying high on hallucinogens.
I stand and see the tree that Spock was hanging from. With that pretty woman and her pretty hair that looked like it was the kind of blonde a person is born with and her willowy build. She hung on his every word from the look of it—he returned the favor.
It hurt so much I broke free from the spores for a moment until you pulled me with you toward another cluster and I got zapped again.
I was happy, at least, when I was on them. I could forget that it's clear Spock can love a woman.
Just not me.
##
In your bed, I feel heartbroken. I made you soup, just as you asked. I made you soup and brought it and you didn't throw it at me this time.
You told me to come in.
You told me to lie down.
You told me to relax.
You took my uniform off and made love to me. Or that's what I told myself while it was happening.
You were a little rough, but you didn't hurt me, not really. Or not my body anyway.
"We are headed for Vulcan?" It's the third time you've asked me this since we finished.
"Yes." I want to cover up my body, hide what you've already seen so much of.
"Computer, estimated time to Vulcan?" Your voice is scratchy and emotional in a way I've never heard it.
"Eight point four five hours."
You turn to me, your eyes very far away, but your grasp knowing—you've found out what I liked, how I enjoy being touched. "We have time before I must be alone to prepare."
"Prepare for what?"
Your expression changes; I see hurt when I don't expect to. "I regret that I cannot tell you." Your touch on my face changes, becomes almost tender. "You are...fascinating to me."
I can live with that. Even if you won't tell me why you need to get to Vulcan.
##
In your bed, I feel triumphant. You smiled when you saw the captain. You smiled and even though McCoy kicked me out of sickbay, I know you were ecstatic he was alive.
I've never seen such joy on any face.
You called me to you a few hours later. You called me to you and told me about your wife—that gorgeous woman you greeted with such lack of emotion.
You told me very little, but I got the gist: you were engaged. Now you're not.
We're alike in that.
You want me again. You can have me now. You've said the first part; I imagine you'll get to the second in only a matter of time.
You push me down and you're kissing me, your hands sure as you draw me toward the brink of pleasure. I am about to go when I hear you murmur it.
"Jim."
I jerk away from you, from your mouth and your fingers. "What?"
You look stricken.
"You said, 'Jim.'"
"I did not mean to." You seem to want to look anywhere but at me.
"But you said it." I back up until I can sit against the headboard. "Why are you with me if you want him?"
"You are extrapolating a great deal from a name."
"I'm a scientist. Extrapolation is what I do." I fold my arms over my chest. "Your smile. When you saw him. I wanted to believe it was just friendship but...was it more?"
You wave my words away, frustration evident in your expression. "Christine, please. I need you."
And suddenly it makes sense. Why you fucked me before. Why you want to fuck me again now. My specialty is biochem, and this is pure biology spurring you on even if I wanted to believe it was emotion. "This is about reproduction. He won't do—your body knows you need a woman."
"It is about reproduction. A strong bond, however, could negate the need for a fertile partner."
I pull my knees to my chin. "Hate to break it to you but I'm not exactly fertile." Birth control is mandatory, except for special circumstances.
"My mind knows that. My body does not. Not at this time."
You want him but you're stuck with me. "You could bond with him, then?"
"He would need to want it, as well."
I can almost hear the longing in your voice. You want him so much and he doesn't see you that way, does he? "If I go...?"
"Please do not. I am unsure if the burning is over." You sound embarrassed to be asking me to stay. You sound as if you would let me go if it were up to your intellect and not your biology.
"I love you." I want to call the words back as soon as they are out.
"So you have said." It's a slap the way you say it. You seem to realize it because you reach for me gently. "Christine, please."
I'm helpless to tell you no. I let you pull me back into your arms.
I'm the worst kind of fool.
##
In your bed, I feel spiteful. Spock wants you but I'm the one fucking you. You came to me filled with Kironide-driven lust.
You could have gone to Ny, but you came to me. I'm still processing that. But you and I have shared things: Roger, Miramanee's death.
It was enough apparently to bring you to sickbay, to leave you standing in the doorway, the door hissing as it bumped against your leg.
I took one look at you and said, "I'm taking off a little early," to my peers who probably cannot stand me anyway.
You turned and were halfway down the hall when I caught up with you. You reached for my hand in the lift and held it until the door opened to let more people on. We didn't speak until we got to your quarters.
"This isn't what I should be doing," you said. "It doesn't mean—"'
I shushed you with my finger on your lips. "Anything. I know."
And now I lie next to you, breathing hard, feeling so damn good from the sex and the way you are—so present even if this doesn't mean anything—and I know that Spock would give anything to trade places with me.
"I worried that Spock might be with you," you say softly, watching my face, reading me better than most people even though we've spent so little time together.
"I think with me is not where he'd like to be." I want to see if you know—if you can tell how much he wants you or if you believe the two of you are just friends.
But your expression gives nothing away. You just nod, and I realize you might think I'm referring to Ny. She and Spock have always had a special bond; she flirts with him more than a friend really should.
Jan and I used to talk about that, how she flirted with both our men.
Shit, Jan is going to fucking kill me. This is so much more than flirting.
I decide to let it go. This doesn't mean anything, and I know you won't let it happen again.
"Thank you," I say as I kiss you gently. "For the poker—or lack thereof. I could feel the heat on my face. I didn't want to feel it for real."
You trace my cheeks gently and say, "I think that was the extra push I needed. Seeing you..." You sigh. "You do realize you're exactly my type, right?"
I laugh softly. "Yeah?"
"Scientists. My Kryptonite."
I reach down and play with my new friend and feel him roaring back to life. "You are pretty super."
You grin and pull me on top of you.
I'm going to be very sorry when the night is over.
##
In your bed, I feel like a replacement. I know because Len told me what happened on Sarpeidon. With Zarabeth—your great love that you had to leave in the past.
And now you're here. Fucking me when another person is on your mind. Again.
You've fallen for women over and over. I know you love Jim, but you clearly can be distracted by pretty faces.
My face apparently isn't pretty enough. I'm just here for the clean-up work.
God, could I have any less respect?
I must be broadcasting my anger and self-loathing because you move away from me in bed. You don't go so far as to turn your back, but rejection is clear.
"Do you think I do not know you were with him?"
Him? Oh, shit, do you mean the captain? "Him who?" Play dumb. Always the safest opening.
I play chess, too, you know. Oh, you didn't know? Yeah, because you didn't fucking ask—or care.
"Jim." The word is said like you have the right to claim it, as your partner, your love. Jim. I don't even call him that. I've slept with him, and I whispered his name that night because he told me to call him by it. But it was clear that was a privilege that would expire with the morning.
"How would you know that?" Surely the captain hasn't told you.
"I've had occasion to meld with him. I saw you in his mind." There's a look I can't read on your face. "Multiple memories spread over time."
You say it like those kind of memories are a problem. But for what?
"He cares for you," you say and there's a deep bitterness in your voice.
"And I love you. And you love him." I push myself out of the bed. "How sad is any of this?"
You don't call me back. The sex was lovely until I figured out it wasn't me you were making love to. Should I thank you for that?
I study your expression. The almost...distaste on your face.
I think I won't thank you for jack shit. "Good night," I say instead.
Like we're normal people on a normal occasion calling it a night.
Like we're not instead destroying each other under your covers.
##
In your bed, I'm not sure how I feel.
"Spock's leaving," you say, and you pull me closer so I snake my arm over your chest and relax into you.
"I know. Spock told me. He told me and I'm not sure why, because he's never, ever loved me the way he does you." But he was mad at me, still, for the fight we had after Zarabeth. I don't tell you that, though.
"There were things I felt from him. When I was in Janice's body. And in the meld he used to determine it was really me." You sigh and turn so you're facing me. "He loves me. I mean, I knew that. I love him, too. My...best friend—or one of them. But...he's in love with me."
"I've always known that." I think the whole ship knows that, but I'm not going to tell you that. "The question really is do you love him?"
"Not like that." You frown. "But, in her body, it was different. He felt as if it was all right that he loved me, if that makes sense? And...maybe I did, too."
"You should have stayed female, then. You'd have gotten the hang of it, I have no doubt." I nuzzle you and you laugh, but it's a half-hearted sound. "It's okay to be attracted to him."
"I know that. But I like women."
"Witness this."
"Exactly." You meet my eyes, and yours are searching. "Have you ever? With a woman?"
I start to laugh, and it's the hysterical laugh that threatened every time I saw Janice Lester on the ship. She'd forgotten me. Not just when you were in her body but when she was.
"What?" You sound almost hurt.
"No, it's just—it was with her. With Lester. When we were kids. Practicing for boys."
Your grin is gorgeous. "How far did you go?"
"Kissing. Only. We were kids. But clearly it wasn't very memorable. She didn't even remember me. Or if she did, she sure didn't show it." And she maybe had forgotten me since she transferred to another school halfway through third grade when her mom was reassigned. I thought I'd never see her again.
"So just her?"
I look down and shake my head. "I must have a thing for girls named Janice."
"Rand?" Your smile grows as I nod. "Was she good?"
"Well, we may grade differently and it was just once, but yeah, she was." I sigh and stretch my legs, rubbing along your calf with my foot. "She wanted you so much. She was...frustrated. I was frustrated with Spock. Perfect confluence of frustration and available outlet."
"Is that all it was?"
"I think so. It was fun. So fun. But she never wanted to repeat it—or for Ny to find out. I wouldn't have cared. Might have made me look less pathetic in her eyes, you know? The endless torch for Spock and all that."
Your smile fades, and I know I shouldn't have brought him up again.
"What am I going to do without him?"
"Find a new first officer."
Your look changes.
"What?"
"I could leave. The ship, I mean, not Starfleet. The admiral promotion list comes out in a few months. If I'm on it, I'm Command bound."
"You'd make a very good admiral." I say, but I'm not sure I mean it.
Your look tells me you're just as unsure of my sincerity.
##
In your bed, I feel like a proxy. Why did I even sit down with you when you were so clearly angry and well on the way to drunk?
There was a part of me that thought once I was on Earth at med school and you were at Command, we'd find a way to make things work. I thought that until I heard from Janice that you'd gotten married.
"I hate my life, Chris," you said as you led me out of the bar. "I hate my job and my fucking ex-wife, and I hate Spock—do you hate him?"
I didn't answer because nothing really would be an answer. If English had a word that meant "some of the time with every fiber of my being but then other times not so much," or even "no, because I blame you for his leaving" then that would be my answer.
Because I do blame you. He loved you, and you didn't love him back the way he wanted, and now he's gone. And yes, I know it's illogical because if you had loved him back the way he wanted, he'd still be here but with you and I wouldn't have him, but you could have loved him back only part of the way and I'd have taken the rest.
I'd have been enough for the rest. Maybe.
Oh hell, okay, no, I wouldn't have been. He loved you and you love women. Not enough to ever make it work, though. What's wrong with your ex-wife exactly? Other than she doesn't hate Earth?
I happen to have treated Admiral Ciani more than once, but I don't tell you that because I'm enjoying sex with you, even if it's not really about me. Even distracted and pissed off, you're still a master in the sack.
After you've calmed down—and sent me down the orgasm rabbit hole a few more times—you rub my back gently and say, "Sorry. Working shit out."
"Am I complaining?"
"You should. You deserve better." You roll to your back. "What's your choice of assignment, Chris? Let me make your life better if not your sex life."
"CMO on the Enterprise," I joke as I nuzzle you. "And the sex was amazing. I just wouldn't call this romance."
You turn and smile, and there's a broken tenderness in the expression. "We've never been a romance."
"I know. I'm here knowing that." I kiss you gently so you know I'm being serious. "I don't expect you to fix anything for me."
"Are you serious about the Enterprise?"
I fix you with a look, but your expression doesn't change. "I'm a lieutenant and newly minted one and a new MD."
"Not what I asked."
I start to laugh—I can't help it. Will I always get on that damn ship by fucking an admiral?
"Chris?"
"Yes, I want it. But it's ludicrous."
"I happen to know the new captain. I'll make introductions tomorrow if you're free." You stroke back my hair, and the strength of your touch makes me press into your hand. "You'll like Will."
"I'd be happy just to be a doctor on the ship." I rub my nose against yours, making you laugh, finally. "I don't expect anything."
"Maybe you should. Maybe you should expect everything." You pull me back down for a kiss. "Now, where were we?"
##
In your bed, I feel a kinship. You lost the love of your life, an alien, and you know what it's like to lose someone to space as well.
You smile lazily as you write nonsense words on my back with your finger. "How's Jim going to take this? I'm stealing both his girls."
"I'm not his girl." In fact, he cut me loose not long after he introduced me to you. "He'll hate you more for the ship than for me." Although he recommended you for the ship and then gave me to you, so maybe he'll hate you for both. It's not something I'd put past him if he's in a mood to wallow in how much he despises his life.
"I don't think Commander Uhura cares for me." You cross your arms behind your head and stare up at the ceiling as you often do when we talk crew stuff in bed. Like it belies the fact we're naked while we do this.
"She's a big Jim fan. She'll get over it. Just treat her like she has half a brain and she'll love you." I've never understood Ny's desire to be on the bridge in the same post for so long. She should be on another ship—a smaller one but in a bigger role. She should be working her way toward command. But she likes it here.
Although maybe you'll be what finally drives her away.
"It's going to be an amazing ship, Christine." You smile in the easy way of yours, and I grin back, the expression coming more frequently and more easily and making me understand that I didn't smile all that much before you. Or not a real smile—I put on a smile every day, but I'm not sure I really meant it. Not since Roger disappeared—or more accurately, not since he left me behind.
Neither of us has said we love the other. I don't know when we will, but I could say it now and it wouldn't be a lie. I think I could love you more—and will, once we're out and free to forge our own path in history.
It excites me to think of what we'll do. The memories we'll make.
Together.
End Part 1 of 2