A/N: (REVAMP!) okay I'll be honest, this was totally just for fun. Fan fiction regarding this particular fandom has been pretty dry lately, so I thought "hmm, maybe it's time for me to contribute to the the community." I welcome criticism and feedback.
The disorientation of being in a bed besides his own kicks in as soon as John opens his eyes. Starting with the subtle way his senses seemingly lag behind his now revived consciousness; the time it takes for his vision to adjust to the dim lighting is longer than usual.
It is here John realizes just exactly how exhausted he truly is, and it's not the type of being spent that he is so often used to. The mattress beneath his back shouldn't be this firm, nor should the barely audible sound of the ship's engine be so calming. The peaceful atmosphere of the room was... foreign, but not entirely unsettling, and the quiet being just soothing enough that John found himself falling back to sleep until he felt the stirring of another form beside him.
His sight settles on sharp eyes and a soft features that lie inches away from John's face, jogging his memory back to last night and its event, the explanation for the calm, almost blissful expression staring back at John becoming clear.
Samus blinks once and smiles silently as he begins to prop his arm onto the pillow, allowing his head to lay in his palm, bare skin once again exposing itself. John then finds himself studying her, but it's strangely only the minor adjustments in her appearance that he's intrigued by. Like the way Samus's hair has now haphazardly splayed over her face and shoulders, the importance of this detail escapes him, but nevertheless, he takes notice of it.
After some time, she finally comes to address him, "Hey."
"Hey," he almost immediately replies, a look of euphoria spreading over his face that mimics hers, "how long have you been awake?"
"Not long," Samus stretches, elongating and spreading her body against the sheets, "waited for you to get up." She smirks, "You pout when you sleep."
There's a moment of shared silence between them, as they clumsily smile back at each other, examining the small changes that have seemingly occurred over night in one another. It's a comfortable silence though, one that both parties feel is somewhat necessary to add to the experience of "the morning after". A period of time passes, and Samus shifts towards John, tucking her head underneath his chin while pressing a hand to paper white skin.
"John, are you— " she stops mid sentence, but it only takes those three, faintly uttered words for him to hear how painfully uncertain Samus sounds, and it's this hesitancy that resonates, settling uncomfortably in John's stomach.
With worry swimming through his thoughts, he lets his free arm wrap around her waist, holding her securely. There is no amount of words, no matter their syntax or diction that John could see himself say to soften the doubtfulness he recognizes in Samus's voice. The inexperience he has with the newly founded relationship forbids him to do so, and the only small comfort he can find giving to her is the light grazing of his thumb between her shoulder blades.
His actions are reward with a drawn out sigh as Samus settles into his embrace. Content murmurs escape into the space between them and it's quiet again.
John begins to discern that the movements of his whole person at this moment are smoother than last nights. When he could barely understand the direction his long suppressed libido was taking him, and the only thing he could hear was his breath and pumping of blood, feeding the fumbling of fingers and rashness of actions. She, on the other hand, was so calm, asking him constantly if they "needed to take things slow", and against the wishes of his pride, John would inevitably say yes. She was the one to start everything after all. The first instance of contact with infatuated intentions was her doing.
Samus briefly kisses his neck, the purpose of which is to end the physical contact they currently share, quickly followed by the announcement of her going to use the shower. She rises out of the bed, heading towards the bathroom, with a walk that looks to John like a shaky saunter. He too climbs out of the bedding, grabbing the nearest piece of his clothing and putting together his outfit from yesterday. It's gotten cold in Samus's living space now that she's left, and John would prefer to be dressed as fast as possible.
Hot water, steam, and confused assessments begin to fill the bathroom Samus now occupies, as she rests her head on the tiled wall in front of her, watching the liquid pool and drain beneath her feet, carried away to be purified and reused for future prolonged showers.
"John are you— Are you all right with this?"
The contrast of the few moments Samus had spent watching John sleep compared to the cold, frustrated feeling crawling into her gut stood out in the forefront of her mind, and what started out as a elated morning had now somehow evolved in to an environment of second guessing and questions gone unasked.
As a responsible lover (a title she firmly believes neither her nor John will ever get used to) Samus felt obligated to ask him his feelings on their relationship, when she would ask him, however, Samus couldn't manage to predict. The spare minutes she had after awakening were spent meditating on exactly this, but when it came down to inquiring John's thoughts, she couldn't find it in herself to do so. After reflecting upon it further, immersed in the heated water and white noise, Samus understood why she failed to carry through, though admittedly she had already known for a while.
Because I can't bare an answer I don't want or expect.
Ten minutes later, the water is now off and Samus stands damp, listening carefully to water slip off her body and drip onto the floor. Everything around her is still, content. And for the hundredth time, she wishes that the galaxy and her personal life could be as serene as her ship's surroundings.
A sudden woosh and the bathroom's door to John's right opens with Samus exiting through it, now adorned in her blue skintight jumpsuit and a pensive expression painted over her face. John stands up from the bulkhead he was previously leaning on, where he patiently waited to for her to finish her bathing and whatever contemplations she had began gathering in the bedroom. John walks over to where she stands and, again, waits. For what specifically this time around, he does not know.
She begins sullenly, "John I need to know... if you're okay."
"Okay with what?" he asks as gently as he can.
"With—" Samus clasps the bridge of her nose, the difficulty she is having all that more apparent, "with us. With me."
John doesn't answer right away, not as he rapidly recycles the events leading up till then. Many, many times last night he thought of himself unprepared for Samus's plans for them, as he awkwardly stumbled through the motions of intercourse. It was worth in though, all of it was, and with the shakiness he felt yesterday long since subsided, he welcomed the new shape his more private life seemed to be taking. John would eventually put his arms around her shoulders, and she later would settle her's around his waist, forehead pressed to his chest. He understood now how to treat someone as significant, important as her, and it was another one of those things that he wished he could some how illustrate in words.
"I'm fine Samus. Are you?"
A dry, but lighthearted laugh rings out of her, "Yes. I am."
"Good." he presses his lips to the top of her head and breathes out, hoping the relief he hears in her reply is legitimate.
