Disclaimer: Reg Barclay and all associated Star Trek mentions are not mine. Chloe, however, is.
Oops?
Even hours later, laying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, Reg still couldn't quite figure out what had happened. He only knew that it had to happen again.
They'd awoken, her head on his chest, his arm thrown haphazardly over her as though still protecting her from the holographic swordsmen. The foil had still been in his hand, and she had still been wearing the evening gown from the dance the night before. Rising to their feet, groggy with sleep, amazed at having woken so suddenly, they'd staggered from the holodeck into the brightly lit and quite busy corridor. The passing cadets had all stared as they walked out, and Reg knew the two of them had been on the lips of everyone the rest of the day. But that hadn't mattered. What had mattered was the realization that they had slept their way through the rest of the night into most of the next morning. They were late for classes. Their roommates were going to kill them.
And they had laughed.
The two of them had stood and laughed about it in the corridor outside of the holodeck. They had laughed, Chloe falling against him to catch her breath, him leaning over slightly to help support her, and they had laughed until suddenly they were too close for laughing. They were laughing into each other's mouths. They took a breath simultaneously, and both opened their eyes, and realized their lips were on each other's, moving on their own with a slow fire. They had snapped apart, staring.
And then they'd walked off in opposite directions.