Leonard awoke some time later to a disjointed reality. His memories were vague and blurry, and he couldn't remember where he was or why he wasn't wearing any clothes. And that warmth radiating on his side did not belong to any kind of blanket.

He looked over. Romi was sleeping peacefully, curling into him as if he were a favorite blanket. Her arm was wrapped around his bare chest and her leg in between his. He gulped. Romi's warm thigh was right on top of his shaft, which right now felt harder than it ever had in his life.

Dear God, what had happened last night? The last thing he remembered was Romi dragging him to her room after Exobiology 105, and then… Oh God she had undressed him, he remembered that quite specifically. Come on McCoy, think! He looked at her, actually looked. As much as the wicked night of pleasure theory was plausible, he belatedly realized that she wasn't naked. Yep, Romi DiValdi was very much clothed. In his experience, most people didn't put their pajamas on after having sex.

Unfortunately that did not help the fact that a very warm and soft part of her was pressed quite intimately against a warm and very, very hard part of him. Romi murmured in her sleep, the sound sweet and innocent, and wiggled her hips slightly, nestling deeper into him.

Yep, he was going to die.

And here he thought it was going to be liver failure or Jocelyn running him over with a car. No, apparently it was just going to be a cute Vulcan with boundary issues and warm thighs.

He needed to extract himself, now. If he could manage that without waking her, he could then get up, head for the shower, make lots of noise, wake her up, and she would never know he currently had the hugest boner in the history of mankind for her. If she remembered anything, she could write it off as nothing more than a dream.

Just as he tried to extract her arm from around him, she clamped down. Still asleep, she made a throaty, moaning noise and arched into him, unconsciously forbidding him to leave. Her legs further tangled themselves into his.

Swearing under his breath, McCoy halted his retreat. Mostly because he didn't want to risk waking her, but also because Oh God did she feel unbelievably good as she snuggled close, all warm and supple from sleep, and refused to let him go.

With her pressed up oh-so close to him, how could he possibly resist. Len couldn't help himself, he was, after all, only human. And he hadn't had any in so long. He lowered his head, nosing into the fringe of her pretty blonde hair until he reached her pointed ear. Promising to hate himself later, he pressed a small kiss into the adorable shell.

Romi hummed blissfully, tilting her head and giving him better access, her hand tracing down, her path exceedingly clear.

His head shot up.

He was almost out of time.

Len pulled his arms away from her and quickly stood up. He ran the ten feet from the bed to the bathroom, dropping his underwear and jumping into the shower without waiting for the water to warm up. The sudden cold certainly did the trick of his little problem. He grabbed a bar of soap and threw himself into his cleaning ritual, pretending to Romi and a lot to himself that this was where he had been all along. Not kissing Romi as she moaned throatily and tried to cop a feel while he was mostly naked in her bed.

What kiss?

What bed?

Nope, Len's been here the whole time, scrubbing away.

"McCoy?" a sleepy voice came from the other side of the door.

"Yeah?" he grabbed the shampoo and poured a big glob, ignoring the fact that he would later smell like vanilla and lavender.

"Have you… been up long?"

"Twenty minutes, maybe. Why?"

There was a pause. McCoy couldn't help but panic. Had he been too late?

"No reason,"


It had been a lie; a big, fat, Italian lie. Why?

Because while she was sleeping with McCoy, she'd dreamt about him.

It had been so sweet. Romi had imagined that he'd woken up before her, all burrowed into their bed and holding her tight. Recovered from his sickness, he'd tried to get up, probably wanting breakfast or the bathroom or something, but she hadn't let him. He was far too comfy a pillow, making her feel safe and womanly and wanted. Leaving was totally no allowed. So she'd held him tighter and teased him with the promise of something far better than breakfast. She'd pushed into him, wanting him to feel her interest, sighing happily as he gave in and kissed her ear. She was surprised at how bold she'd been, fondling a man had never been something she'd been particularly interested in, but if he had asked…

It had felt so real, more erotic than any dream she'd ever had. Even now she could still feel his lips as they pressed softly but hungrily against her. But the dream shifted after that. It went cold. The warmth of him disappeared. In confusion, her eyes had fluttered open and she'd found herself alone in bed, the man himself in her bathroom. None of it had been real.

Her disappointment was as bitter as it was baffling.

Why was she dreaming about Len in the first place? Why was the idea of waking up to his kisses so exhilarating? And why would she care if a sexy dream about him turned out to be just a dream. This was McCoy she was talking about! Bitter, angry, racist, borderline-alcoholic Leonard McCoy!

God, it was so unfair. She headed across the hall and knocked on the door. Nyota Uhura opened the door. She looked like she was just getting ready for a run.

"Hey Romi, what's up?"

"My shower's acting up," Thank an entire pantheon of gods for sound-proof doors. "Can I use yours quick?"

"Sure, go ahead, I was just heading out for a run."

"Thanks," she entered into the quarters, quickly replicated a towel, stripping out of her tank top and shorts. As she flipped the faucet on and waited impatiently for his to warm up, she caught a glimpse of her naked body in the mirror over the sink. She appraised her reflection. Ungainly, she thought. Too lanky and stick-like to be really feminine.

Her friends had always told her she was crazy. That she wasn't short, just 'fun sized'. They'd sworn that they'd kill for her legs. Her blonde hair. Her green eyes. They'd even called her lovely.

She'd rolled her eyes at the description. She wasn't lovely, she just had sweet friends. Judith was tall, with wavy brown hair and curves she would become a serial killer for, she was honestly surprised that the woman didn't model the clothes she designed. Plus, her German accent was cute. Yao Lin, on the other hand, had the face of a china doll. More cute than outright beautiful, her almond-shaped eyes were utterly adorable, and her raven locks didn't know the definition of a bad hair day. You'd never guess the girl was a prodigy in theoretical physics.

Romi, on the other hand, was a warrior, not a lady. She could take all comers in a fight and probably win. She sighed in misery.

Screw this, she thought, I don't have time to feel sorry for myself.

She turned slightly to the side, about to get into the shower, and froze as she caught the change in the mirror. By turning just three point five inches to the left, her reflection was transformed. The side view accentuated the swell of her tiny breasts. The high, pert curve of her ass met with surprising grace to her lower back. Her ears, combined with her short hair made her look like the pixie Kirk always called her.

Unbidden, her imagination conjured Leonard behind her, every bit as naked and planting soft, urgent kisses on her shoulders. Her observations from last night were not unnoticed. Barefoot, she was about half a foot shorter than he was. He had to lower his head to reach her. The larger dimensions of his body made hers look decidedly female as his rough hands worked their way over her skin. Len looked sexy. That didn't surprise her at all.

What surprised Romi was that the thought of Len making love to her made her look sexy. Her body softened under his imagined touch. Her lips parted. Her green eyes went dark. The mere thought of him had made her lovely. It had stripped her though exterior, leaving her quivering with anticipation.

And she loved it.

She gave a throaty moan, begging for him to continue. There was a deep pulse in her lower belly that hadn't been there in years. Okay, so he was irritating sure. But Len was kind. He was thoughtful and funny, in his own way. He made her laugh. He said what he meant and he meant what he said. There were no games.

The shower spat before returning to its normal spray. The sound startled her from her daydream and Len disappeared.

Romi cursed softly and stepped into the steaming, relaxing water.


About twenty-odd minutes later, Romi stepped out of the shower and wrapped the towel around her. Grabbing her clothes she stepped out of Nyota and Gaila's room and into the hallway. She was about to go into the room when she remembered that McCoy was still in there. God, she really didn't want to walk in on him changing, so she nocked first.

"Hey McCoy,"

"Yeah?" he answered.

"Are you decent?"

"Yep… are you?"

"Mostly," she walked in. McCoy was just buttoning up his uniform jacket. As usual, Katniss was playing with her bras but that wasn't important right now. They locked stares then looked away. The tension in the room was substantial. Romi decided to try and slap it right in the face.

"So I see you've recovered," she said.

"What?" He was drawn out of his own thoughts. Swing and a miss.

"Your flu, its why I dragged you to my room last night." There was another awkward pause.

"So I get going-"

"I should put on some-" Their sentences collided into each other.

McCoy went to leave, but stood in the door way for a few seconds, his back to her. "Thanks… for everything," he said.

Romi smiled, but also didn't turn to face him. "No problem, Leonard."

He gave a small nod and stepped out into the hallway. When the door closed, the people on both sides of it sighed.