Boone had wrapped himself around her at some point in the night.
Literally.
Her head was resting on one arm, the other hand had slid up under what she realized now was one of his shirts and was resting on her bare belly. One leg had slid between hers, and she could feel his breath on the back of her neck. It might have been endearing if she had been in that sort of relationship with him. But she wasn't. They weren't. And it was awkward.
She wondered briefly if she could extricate herself from this situation without him waking up. It was humiliating enough to think about last night without waking up in this sort of situation. One that Boone hadn't exactly been conscious to consent to.
She started by disentangling their legs. He'd shed his boots, she noticed now. She hadn't helped with that, so at some point he had done it on his own. She didn't think it had happened after she'd crawled in bed with him, or he wouldn't still be here. So she had to presume that he'd been sober enough to be concerned about his own comfort. So he probably hadn't drank enough to have blacked out.
Andi wasn't sure how she felt about the prospect of Boone remembering what had happened.
She also wasn't sure how she felt about remembering "blacking out" but not her own family. It was weird.
While she thought, she carefully set about getting his hand out from under her shirt. Or his shirt. Whoever's shirt she was wearing, his hands needed to get out of it.
He murmured something, and his hand slid up to cup one bare breast. A surge of sensation went straight to her groin, and she nearly gasped with surprise. He nuzzled closer to her backside, and she felt something hard and demanding poking her through his pants.
It had gone from awkward to horribly uncomfortable so fast that Andi didn't even know where to begin with her freakout.
So instead she put more effort into disengaging herself from his grip, gingerly removing his hand and dropping it upon his side. She was nearly out of the bed when she heard Boone's mumbling become more coherent.
"Kid?" He asked, his blue eyes unfocused as he squinted at her. She saw the moment that comprehension hit him, because suddenly he was wide awake and moving with lightning speed. Almost instantly, he was on his feet at the far side of the bed, staring at her accusingly. "What the hell happened last night?"
"I shot Benny." She informed him, trying to keep the emotion out of her voice. To keep the tears at bay. "He had the chip, and he had... this... Securitron in his room that I need to go back and get a good look at."
"That isn't what I was-" She cut him off.
"There was so much blood. I just..." She gestured feebly, unable to explain to him about the feeling of filth. The way her skin had crawled from the feeling of blood upon it. From the realization that she had killed a man.
He must have seen it in her face. Because he was there in a heartbeat. Hugging her. Holding her close.
"It's OK, Kid."
"No." She still fought the tears. "No, it's not. I killedhim."
He didn't respond. Didn't argue with her. She almost wished he would. Instead he hugged her for long minutes, until she'd stopped shaking—she hadn't realized that she wasshaking until it had stopped—and her breathing had steadied.
"Kid," Boone said, letting her go and stepping away. "It'll be OK."
She wondered if he was speaking from experience. If he'd been here, somehow. Or if he was just saying that to make her feel better.
And then she had to wonder. Did it even matter?
If she were honest with herself, she would say it didn't. She didn't actually care if his reassurances would prove true in the long run. She didn't actually care if he was lying just to calm her down. Fact was, what she needed were the words, meaningful or meaningless didn't really factor in.
She nodded.
"And Kid?" Andi looked at Boone, waited to hear what he would say. "Is that my shirt?"
"Uh," She looked down at herself, and didn't know how to answer. It was, in fact, his shirt. The shirt was short, even on her smaller frame, though it hung rather looser on her than it did on the older soldier. The fabric had maybe been white once, but now it was worn and dingy with age.
"Hm." He said, raising an eyebrow and staring at her in it until she squirmed under his steady gaze. His eyes didn't so much rake over her as take in the sight. She wondered how pissed off he was, and whether she should apologize. And then, abruptly, he turned and left the room.
She was so confused that she forgot about Benny. Forgot about the blood on her. For the moment, at least, all she could think about was Boone's reaction, and how angry he was about his shirt.