A/N:...ahaaaaaaa. There will some sort of plot, I swear. This is all kind of build-up. I don't want this to be a twenty-something chapter thing and it won't be, but I'm kinda desperately throwing up plot bridges as I chug along and even though I know the vague shape of what I want to happen, it's the little subplotty details that nail me.

I'll post M-rated warnings before each chapter for those faint of heart. This chapter is completely void of such (sadly) and mostly some loose UST.

But soon. Prepare yourself.

Chapter 3

"Our estimated time of arrival at the station, Mr. Chekov?"

"Docking in approximately two point seven hours, sir."

Spock acknowledged the information silently, unable to prevent himself from thinking that the captain would have said something in return, some compliment that would have sent the young officer in a red-faced whirl of adoration. Spock did not know how to offer such a compliment and therefore contented himself with folding his hands behind his back quietly. He had long since abandoned the inexplicably uncomfortable chair and now stood a short distance in front of it. The captain would be released from care in two hours, and then he could return to his proper station. Behind the chair.

The bridge was quiet without him. Without Kirk. His presence was one that was only truly appreciated when absent, Spock mused. But when present, it somehow managed to infuse the atmosphere with an odd...fullness.

The Enterprise would dock at the space station in two hours and thirty-eight minutes. Spock had not slept for some time-ten standard days, in fact-and although he required far less rest than humans, he found that his performance began to deteriorate after nine. Lack of sleep with the addition of the frustration of Jim and too many words left unsaid was beginning to take a toll. He excused himself promptly with that thought in mind, passed the conn to Sulu once more, and departed the bridge. He was one foot into the turbolift when a voice called out.

"C-Captain?"

It took him 1.5 seconds too long to realize he was being addressed. He turned, taking in the red-clad yeoman behind him. He was young, perhaps only two or three Terran years older than Chekov, and possessed mass quantities of curly orange hair that clashed rather disturbingly against his shirt.

"Is...ah, C-Captain Kirk all right, uh, Captain?" stammered the young man, wilting slightly under Spock's scrutinizing gaze.

"Yeoman McGee," Spock said, finally identifying the yeoman. "You were part of the landing party, I understand."

"A-Aye, sir. I was. The captain...what happened...it was my fault, really." McGee was displaying several signs of distress, appearing close to bursting into tears. "Is he all right?"

So this had been the yeoman Jim had thrown himself in front of. Spock felt an illogical resentment towards the man and squashed it down immediately. This was not his fault. He attempted to convey comfort with his next words. "The captain will survive his injuries, Yeoman. You need not concern yourself over his condition." It did not, for some reason, appear to work. If anything, McGee became more emotional. "B-B-But it's my fault! If I hadn't been there, he would be fine." Spock chose to not voice his agreement. "This is not, I believe the phrase is, Captain Kirk's 'first rodeo'," he informed the yeoman dryly. "And I doubt it will be his last." For some reason, this troubled him deeply. "He would not want you to worry so." Illogical, as Spock had no idea what Jim would want. "How would you know what I want?" He shook his head imperceptibly, attempting to remove the memory through physical force. McGee calmed down considerably and excused himself with a, "Thank you, Captain Spock."

"Commander," Spock corrected automatically, then frowned as the yeoman mumbled a confused correction and scurried off. He was the captain, no matter how temporarily. There had been no reason for him to state otherwise. Spock chalked the slip up to his impending weariness and stepped once more into the turbolift.

He was keying in the codes to his quarters when he noticed that someone had bypassed his preliminary security measures. Only the captain had the override codes to his security, but Spock had managed to overlay an additional lock that only he should possess the key to. He considered the keypad gravely, then pressed the final button that would open his doors. If his suspicions were correct, and he had little doubt they were not, the intruder could only possibly be-

The doors opened, and Spock strode in, mouth open in preparation for an automatic reprimand. He froze as soon as he set foot in the room. The doors hissed shut, just behind his heels. The captain-Jim-was lying on his bed. There were several factors here that were very wrong. First, Jim had hacked through his security. This did not much surprise Spock, though it displeased him a great deal. Second, Jim was supposed to be in the medbay, which meant McCoy would soon launch a shipwide hunt for the man, accompanied by great fanfare and a great deal of undesired fuss. Third, Jim was in his bed. Sleeping. The sheer nerve.

Spock gave the curled form on his mattress a final exasperated glare before stepping swiftly to his closet. How was it that he always came across the captain while he was sleeping? In any case, there was little logic in disturbing Jim now, he reasoned, when he was only doing what he should be doing in the first place: resting, albeit not in the proper location. His presence did not bother Spock to a great degree. He was used to the captain being in places he should not, though he felt that that itself should be disturbing. The only concern he harbored now was that Jim was taking up his bedspace. He had no desire to share with the man, which left only the option of reclining on the floor. A curl of annoyance tickled his chest. Why should he have to sleep on the floor? It was his room, after all, and it lacked any other furniture large enough for him to lie on, excluding the console in the corner.

He removed his blue shirt and hung it up neatly, leaving his black undershirt and pants. The captain gave a rattling and completely unwarranted snore, muttering incomprehensibly as he rolled onto his back and scratched at his stomach absently. He had somehow located and donned a red shirt over his hospital garb, Spock observed. This would explain how he had roamed the corridors without so much as a single alert. The shirt was too large, so that it gave the captain the appearance of a swaddled infant.

Spock amused himself with this image for some three seconds, thinking that Jim was rather infantile in his own excessive ways. He spilled emotion carelessly wherever he trod, evoking equally passionate responses from those around him, whether it be in anger or amusement or otherwise. Spock had observed this behavior during the rare occasions on shore leave when he was talked into accompanying the crew to planet side bars. Many a violent altercation had arisen on those occasions, Jim usually at their centers. He was loud. He was eternally convinced of his own righteousness. He was rash and thought little of the consequences of his actions. In short, James Kirk had a natural tendency to frustrate Spock with his immaturity.

However, he had to grudgingly admit, there was a sort of innocence to the man that others were almost unconsciously drawn to. His physical appearance also did nothing to hinder this attraction. Spock was suddenly aware of the broken pieces of the knight against his leg. Evidence of his loss of control. It would not happen again, he decided. It could not happen again.

Spock squatted down beside the bed, studying Jim's face intently for signs of improvement. His coloring was of a more natural hue now, and he seemed to breathe easier. Spock found himself leaning closer, mesmerized by the tone of the captain's skin. His own skin was pale with underlying green veins, nothing overly remarkable, and he had always been faintly interested in the warmer coloration of humans. This was a rare opportunity to pursue this interest as a close range, he told himself. On a purely scientific basis, of course.

Jim took a deep breath and Spock moved back warily, uncertain of the captain's response if he should awaken and observe Spock's alarmingly close proximity. Fortunately, he remained asleep, and Spock did not attempt to approach him again. Instead, he turned around so that he leaned back against the bed, and absentmindedly rolled the pieces of the black knight in his palms. He was somewhat impressed, though still chagrined, at the surgical precision in which he had snapped off the top of the piece. In fact, he was sure he could manage to mend it with some form of adhesive...He slid the pieces together and aligned them so that, for a brief moment, the knight was almost seamlessly whole.

A hand reached over his shoulder and closed over the knight, enveloping Spock's hands simultaneously. Spock was taken completely off guard. He jerked his hands away instinctively, though not before a sharp jolt sizzled through his nerves and left a tingling sensation in his fingers, and turned his head sharply to face Jim.

Jim appeared not to notice his reaction, studying instead the knight he now held in his hand. "Sorry about that," he murmured.

"Are you apologizing for hacking into my security codes, commandeering my bed, or perhaps raising the ire of a certain Dr. McCoy?"

Jim laughed softly, eyes crinkling at the corners. "I'm sorry for all of that, but I meant this." He seemed fascinated by the smooth break in the stone chess piece, running the pad of his thumb over its surface. "You really did a number on this, didn't you?"

"I briefly lost control," Spock reluctantly admitted. "I assure you, the issue will not arise again."

"Hey, I'm the one apologizing here," said Jim, but there was a teasing tone in his voice.

"You misunderstand. I was not apologizing for the incident."

Jim chuckled again, and Spock found that the sound was not unpleasant to his ears. "And people say you don't have a sense of humor."

"Humor is illogical."

"Well, that's kind of the point, really. Wouldn't really be humor if it wasn't." Jim gave Spock a sidelong glance. "I'm here to say sorry."

"You already have," Spock pointed out.

Jim waved a hand vaguely, still turning the pieces of the knight over and over in his other hand. "No, no. For before. You're right. I don't always think before I jump."

Spock frowned slightly and decided the odd phrase was due to an idiomatic expression. Humans always found a strange way to say something simple and uncomplicated.

Jim continued, "But you have to understand. It's not because I don't care." Jim turned his head fully now to gaze at Spock. He seemed to be trying to implore something with his eyes. Illogical, as optic organs were incapable of conveying information. Spock blinked. "It's because I do care. I care too much."

"I...do not completely understand."

Another low chuckle. He did not dislike the sound at all.

"You taking care of my ship?" Spock was strangely relieved at the change in topic. Although he felt the issue had not been resolved, he did not wish for it to become a point of conflict between them. He proceeded to inform the captain of the goings-on he had missed while in the medbay, his previous weariness almost completely forgotten. It was still there, but lurked in the shadows of his mind rather than blazing at their forefront. Whenever he was with Jim, everything else seemed to take second place. It was not, Spock admitted, an ideal situation, however it served him well and, as far as he knew, did not impede his duties in any way.

They chatted until a companionable silence took over where words had left off. Spock had somehow lost track of how much time had passed: a rare occurrence that left him feeling disgruntled. Jim was humming something under his breath, a musical tune that Spock did not recognize. He suspected it was a product of Jim's spastic concoction. He closed his eyes to better focus on the tune, feeling himself slowly drifting into a light meditative state. Jim was slightly tone-deaf, he realized with mild amusement, and catalogued the fact away into his growing files...

…

Spock had fallen asleep. Jim only realized this when his head dipped forward, then lolled sideways onto the mattress. He stopped humming then and raised his own head from the pillow to stare at the sight incredulously. So Spock could sleep, after all. It was one of the greater mysteries of life that the crew of the Enterprise had accepted as unsolvable. But he was definitely sleeping, eyes closed, deep breaths, the whole shebang. Jim was appropriately awed at the sight. He did feel a bit guilty now for taking the bed, but the walk up from medbay had been admittedly painful. His own quarters were closer and he wondered now why he had even ended up here. He had been in a half-drugged daze when he made his escape while Bones was taking a dump and hadn't been thinking clearly.

But he hadn't wanted to be alone, and somehow he knew that Spock would understand. In his long, boring hours of solitude, he'd decided that whatever...weirdness had happened in the medbay, it was due to the fact that he had received about twenty hyposprays to the neck and was in no state of mind to make proper judgements. Therefore, whatever had happened had...happened, but it wouldn't happen again. That's what was most important.

Still, though. Spock looked...different like this. Not on guard. Almost...defenseless. Jim wondered if anyone had ever seen him like this before and wished he hadn't. Just the thought put him in a weird, dark mood. Seriously, though, how tired must the guy be to just conk out? Not to mention in front of someone else. He supposed he should feel a bit annoyed, since they had been talking before this, but he was mostly just flattered.

A communicator beeped somewhere and Jim reached for his belt automatically, scowling when he remembered it was down in medbay. It must be Spock's, then. He glanced warily down at Spock, who hadn't woken yet. The communicator beeped again, more insistently, and he cursed softly. He would have to get the damn thing before it woke Spock up, but then they would know he was here...no, he had to find it first. He pushed himself up to a sitting position slowly, clutching his side carefully. Spock's head rolled slightly as the mattress shifted, but he stayed asleep. Wow, he must be frigging exhausted.

Jim saw the communicator, hooked to Spock's waistband. He folded over the side of the bed awkwardly, fingers straining...his side twinged and he winced, but kept reaching...got it. He snagged the communicator and straightened, flipping it open. "Kirk here."

"Jim?" Uhura's tinny voice demanded. Shit. He hadn't really meant to say that. Well, it wasn't like he could impersonate Spock anyway.

"Heeey, Uhura. What's up?"

"What's-Aren't you supposed to be-?"

"Oh. Uh. Bones released me ahead of time. I'm clear to go."

"Oh really."

"Um, yeah. Pretty sure." Spock's head shifted and Jim's eyes snapped down. He was almost positive that Spock wouldn't like him chatting on his communicator. Luckily, he still managed to not wake up.

"Hmm. Where's Spock?"

"He's indisposed at the moment. Care to leave a message?"

"Indi-the hell does that mean?"

"It means that he is currently unavailable, Uhura. You know, I'm surprised. Doesn't this fit your job description or something?"

"...we're docking in twenty minutes, Captain."

"Right on. I'll be right up." He ended the call and bent over again, intending to return the communicator before Spock woke and-

"What are you doing, Jim?" The low voice was too close to his ear for comfort. Jim flinched and dropped the communicator. Spock was looking at him. Looking at him. Their faces were way too close to be healthy. Jim dropped his gaze, tried to formulate some kind of clever comeback. "I'm, um. Nothing." Not his most eloquent or inspiring speech, but it'd do in a pinch. He hoped.

Spock eyed him evenly. Jim wondered what he was thinking, behind those frustratingly dark eyes.

"So, uh. You have a nice nap?"

Spock's eyebrow rose magnificently and Jim swallowed hard, confused as hell about the sudden knot in his throat. "I was not...napping," Spock replied archly.

"You were. Like a baby."

"I assure you, Captain, I was merely in a meditative state in order to conserve energy." That damn eyebrow kept going higher and higher. Jim looked away before he could cause himself a heart disorder. Something was seriously very very wrong with him. Surely it was not natural to be attracted to an eyebrow. He considered himself an expert on things not natural, but surely this was too far past the normal line.

"The, um, the station. We'll be docking in twenty minutes."

"I see." Spock scooped up his communicator and returned it to his belt. His shirt rode up slightly when he bent his arm and Jim caught a flash of pale, green-tinged skin above his waistband. And then the moment was past and Spock was tugging his shirt down automatically and crossing the room to his closet. "I advise that you locate your proper attire, Captain, if you intend to returning to duty."

Jim looked down at his red shirt in surprise. "Ah. Uh, yeah. I will. I'll go do that now." He somehow got off the bed without falling over and made his way to the door. "See you later...I guess." God, that was so lame. Had he really just said that? Real smooth there, Kirk.

"Yes, Captain." There had definitely been amusement in Spock's voice that time. His other eyebrow twitched threateningly and Jim left quickly before things really got embarrassing.

He stopped by his own rooms to change into his uniform before making his way to the bridge. Spock was already there, the sneaky goblin, waiting all prim and ready at his station. "Captain on ze bridge," Chekov greeted.

"Hey there, Chekov." Jim couldn't help slapping the kid's shoulder on his way past. "Sulu."

"Aye, Captain. Glad to see you back."

"Uhura."

"Bones is pissed at you."

"Ah, he'll get over it." He reached his chair and patted it fondly. "Did you miss me, baby? I missed you." He swiveled around slightly, nodded gravely at Spock. "I missed you, too."

Eyebrow. "Captain."

Uhura cleared her throat loudly-with fondness, Jim liked to think-and tapped a key at her console. "Transmission from Station K-6, Captain."

"Bring 'er up."

An image fizzled on the screen, snapping into the face of...

"Admiral Pike," Jim said, slightly surprised. More than slightly. He hadn't spoken with Pike for some time, having been busy on research expeditions around the galaxy. "What brings you out here?"

"Vacation," Pike grunted. "Heard the cliffs on Sumiko IV were to die for." He gave Jim a meaningful once-over. "Though I guess you would know something about that."

Jim laughed. "Yeah, that was great. I know this one guy there if you want to check out the-"

"Maybe later, Jim. I've got a mission for you. HQ knew I was in the area, so," Pike shrugged, "here I am."

"Not another run for the botany labs, I hope."

"Not at all. This one's more up your alley." Pike turned to shuffle something around and Jim took the opportunity to flail in celebration. He didn't hate collecting data for the labs, per se, since it at least got him undocked long enough to stretch his legs, but it had been getting a bit dull as of late. Giant boars could only get so interesting after a day in the medbay, after all.

"Here it is. Damn files," Pike grumbled, spinning back around. "Two science vessels were dispatched to Leonis II over the course of the past three months. Neither of them returned on schedule. Normally, it'd be assumed that they found something interesting and camped down for a while. You know the science types."

"Uh huh," Jim agreed dryly, thinking of the last time he had mistaken plant samples for a salad and Spock had spent the next two hours analyzing the resulting pile of eject.

"That's normally. There were no transmissions received from Leonis II from either vessel. Regulations state that extensions of stay must be reported to headquarters."

"So, you want us to find them?"

"Just some recon work, Kirk. Don't get ahead of yourself," Pike cautioned. "You don't need to actually land."

"Boring."

A muscle twitched in Pike's jaw. "I apologize if this mission doesn't completely cater to your...needs, Kirk."

"Hmm. We'll take it." Jim grinned. "Maybe I'll see you at the station?"

"You won't be docking, Jim. You're to head out for Leonis at once."

"What? But we've-come on, Pike, we've been out in space for almost six months. We've got repairs to make, Scotty's been after some up-"

"Sorry, kid. This is an emergency." Pike coughed, looking slightly embarrassed. "Truth is, uh. There's a bit of a diplomacy issue riding on this."

Jim spluttered. "What? Diplomacy? I thought this was a science field trip!"

"Well, it is. It's just one that one of the scientists just happens to be the daughter of, uh. A certain official." Pike appeared to be genuinely uncomfortable. Jim leaned forward, completely intrigued at this point. The members of the bridge crew suddenly seemed very busy, yet completely silent.

"Who is it?"

"I don't believe that you need to know that, Captain Kirk."

"Come on, tell-"

"How badly are you in need of repairs? Your ship falling apart? Warp core damaged?"

"Uh, no, but-"

"You are hereby cleared for travel, Captain. Consider this your lucky day,"

"Pike, come on, man-"

"That's Admiral to you, kid." The transmission was cut.

Jim slouched back in his chair, exhaling through his nose. "Well, this sucks," he mumbled. He had planned on spending his shore leave hitting up the station bars...getting laid...he really needed to get laid...

Sulu twisted around in his seat. "Captain, your orders?"

Jim gave another long-suffering sigh. "Set a course for Leonis II, Mr. Sulu. Looks like we're going to find ourselves some researchers.'

"Aye, sir."

"Captain," said a quiet voice behind him. "If I may have a word with you."

…

Jim looked over his shoulder, eyebrows raised in surprise. "What's up, Spock?"

Spock tucked the datapad securely under his arm and tilted his head slightly towards the bridge door. "A word, Captain."

Jim stood immediately. "Sure. Mr. Sulu, the conn."

"Aye, sir," came the slightly weary reply. At this rate, Spock could not help but think, Hikaru Sulu would soon become the permanent captain of the Enterprise. He was surprised at himself for the jesting tone of his own thoughts. Perhaps he was merely in an illogical mood. He had, after all, just hacked into the Starfleet database and procured the personal files of all the scientific researchers assigned to the missing vessels.

He followed Jim out into the corridor and into an empty conference room, at his own suggestion. Jim gave him a questioning look, but unlocked the door and let them in. As soon as the doors shut, he threw his hands up. "So what's with all the secrecy, Spock?"

"I merely did not wish our conversation to be overheard, Captain."

"You-you've got something to tell me, then." Jim's voice sounded...odd. Spock did not recognize the emotion in his words and paused, puzzled. "Yes, Jim. I do." Was it possible that Jim already knew of his actions?

Jim stepped closer, a strange glint in his blue eyes. Spock found himself taking a step back unconsciously. The edge of the conference room table bumped against the back of his thighs and he was forced to cease his retreat. Retreat? When did he retreat from anyone? This was a most illogical situation.

"You were saying?" He was not aware that Jim's voice possessed such a husky edge. He cleared his throat, presented the datapad to Jim. "I took the liberty of procuring the files of the missing researchers. I assumed that you would have asked this me eventually and therefore pursued the most efficient route." He had also wanted to make Jim...happy. It was a strange urge, one he was not certain he had felt before except when in the company of his mother.

Jim took the PADD after a moment of hesitation, not meeting Spock's eyes, and scanned the list of names. "I see you've created a separate filing system for the female researchers. Well done."

Spock tried to stifle rising satisfaction and failed. "Yes, sir, I presumed you would be curious as to the identity of the unknown official's daughter."

Jim glanced up at that, his eyes smiling conspiratorially over the top of the datapad. "And you're not curious at all yourself, are you, Mr. Spock?"

"I...am sufficiently interested in the matter," Spock confessed. "I thought it exceedingly odd that we were not permitted time to resupply and undergo maintenance at the station."

"Indeed, Mr. Spock, indeed..." Jim murmured, clearly aiming for an enigmatic tone, but striking rather below the mark, Spock thought.

"Wait, who's this?" Jim's voice rose excitedly, jabbing a finger at the PADD. Spock was forced to walk over and crane over Jim's shoulder in order to read the name. Carol Wallace. "I know her. But...it's not quite right..."

"The name is not...totally unfamiliar," Spock agreed, though suitable puzzled. Surely, if this Carol Wallace was part of the science department, he would have caught mention if her name at some period of time. He set himself to the task of methodically searching his memory for such an encounter.

"Carol," Jim was muttering. "Carol, Carol, Carol..." Spock was on the verge of suggesting that perhaps he ought to mutter the girl's last name, as it would most likely increase the likelihood of identification, when Jim let out a triumphant cry, "Carol. Carol Marcus! Admiral Marcus has a daughter in arms research, doesn't he?"

"I..." Spock struggled to not feel slightly put out that Jim had reached this conclusion sooner than himself. It is unreasonable to think so, he scolded himself. The captain is not a stupid man. "Yes, I believe he does."

"What's a weapon specialist doing on a research vessel?" Jim wondered aloud. "Surely they didn't tote cannons with them to Leonis."

"I believe that the planet in question is relatively uninhabited but for a few native, peaceful tribes. The local surface fauna is also less than threatening. Therefore, it is illogical that the vessels would have borne arms on the expedition."

"So why would-shit." Jim, in the middle of the wild gesticulations he was prone to while thinking out loud, suddenly faltered and clutched at his side.

"Jim?" Spock was instantly alarmed. He grasped the captain's elbow, resisting the urge to sound the alarm and rush him back down to the medbay. "Are you in pain?"

"No, no, I'm fine." Jim put on a stoic face when he noticed Spock's concern and straightened. "Just stretched the wrong way."

Spock did not release Jim's arm. "You have not yet been cleared by Dr. McCoy," he said quietly. "I insist that you return for a scan."

Jim shook him off irritably and Spock let go, fearing that resistance would simply serve to strain Jim even further. "Spock, I'm completely fine. Really. One hundred percent better."

"Oh?" Spock replied acidly. He jabbed at Jim's side, mindful of the precise amount of pressure to exert, and could not help feeling a spike of satisfaction when Jim jerked and groaned in discomfort. "It is my observation, Captain, that you are not, in fact, at your one hundred percent. If anything, you are barely at sixty."

Jim coughed, most likely to hide another groan. "You...only call me Captain...when you're pissed at me," he gasped, trying to catch his breath. "It's kind of...a turn-on."

Spock's mind refused to compute the last bizarre comment and he moved on smoothly past it, though the odd phrase left him feeling...ruffled. "I call you Captain to remind you of your responsibilities. And of my own."

"Remind me...again. Are you my babysitter, Spock?"

"Negative, Captain. I am your First Officer. I am also..." Spock hesitated. "I am also your friend, Jim. I do not enjoy the sight of you in needless pain."

Jim gave him a strange look, body tensing as if he was restraining some strong force. Finally, he seemed to sag and submit. "Okay, you win. I'll go see Bones."

"I believe a celebration is in order," Spock deadpanned and was rewarded with a delighted burst of laughter.

Jim insisted that he did not need to be "walked down like a two-year-old at a zoo," and left for the medbay alone. Spock returned to the bridge, mind humming with deep-seated satisfaction, and proceeded to compile a file on the elusive Carol Marcus.

A/N:...Apparently, I have a thing for sleeping ST boys, because somebody's been asleep in every chapter thus far. IS THIS A PROBLEM I HAVE I DON'T KNOW BUT IT'S SOMEHOW REALLY SEXY AND APPEALING TO ME OKAY.

GAH.

I'm starting to get the hang of switching perspectives, though it's still kind of unstructured and crap -_-

I will get better at this. Right now I'm just kind of slinging POVs left and right whenever I run out of steam on one of them. Sorry if Jim's a bit...off. For some reason I find writing Spock's POV much easier and it pretty much writes itself. The only problem I really have with him is that I have to bend him into a slashy state. Because otherwise I would just motor on and he'd be all logical and Vulcany and still hot but NOT HOT ENOUGH. Jim is a bit harder to be consistent on because he's a really complex character and it's a bit hard to try and keep all his complexities when I just want him to be HOT and HORNY and COMPLETELY AND TOTALLY IN NEED OF LOVE. So yeah. I'm tryyingggggggg ;_;

Reviews are totally wanted and appreciated. Even a few words makes me really happy, because it means I kind of know what I'm doing after all.

This is a very long note. I am sorry. And also an unnecessarily long chapter. I just needed to get all this out at some point.