Except I can still feel her through the bond—sleeping now, peaceful, unaware that I just experienced the most intense release of my adult life while thinking about her. The wrongness of the distance has eased slightly, as if my body has temporarily accepted this separation now that immediate needs have been addressed.
When I emerge from the refresher considerably calmer, Jitters has diplomatically relocated to the ceiling, still maintaining his careful neutral gray like a supportive friend who understandssome things are best left unmentioned. And I return to the workstation and try and get some rest to not disturb Zola.
“Good morning!” KiKi’s cheerful announcement fills the cabin along with gradually increasing ambient lighting that feels like assault on my light-sensitive eyes.
Early morning announcements should be illegal during sleep cycles.
“Did you have a restful sleep period? I have prepared nutritional recommendations for bonded partners, updated atmospheric controls for optimal romantic ambiance, and compiled a playlist of human courtship music that includes several selections specifically designed to enhance—”
From the bunk comes a groan that sounds distinctly unimpressed with electronic enthusiasm. “Turn off the lights, KiKi. And the music. And whatever ‘romantic ambiance’ you think we need.”
“But Zola, research indicates that morning routines significantly impact relationship satisfaction—”
“No courtship activities before coffee,” she says firmly, sitting up in the bunk. Her auburn hair is delightfully mussed from sleep, and there are crease marks on her cheek from my coveralls. The sight makes something warm unfurl in my chest that has nothing to do with arousal and everything to do with domestic contentment.
Then her green eyes focus on me, standing near the workstation where I’ve been since KiKi’s wake-up call, and I watch her notice my position. Her gaze travels from my face down my body and back up again, and I can smell the subtle shift in her scent that suggests she’s noticed I’ve showered. Changed clothes. That my hair is still slightly damp.
That I’m standing carefully at the edge of the comfortable distance rather than close enough to touch.
“Crash, why are you way over there?” Her voice carries curiosity mixed with something that might be concern.
“I was... researching,” I manage, very carefully not mentioning that I’d relocated after my shower situation to avoid explaining why I needed the shower at oh-four hundred in the first place.
“Researching what?” She swings her legs over the side of the bunk, her sleep shirt riding up to reveal a strip of skin that my enhanced vision catalogs with entirely too much interest despite my recent... relief.
“Human courtship customs.”
She stops moving. Stares at me. Then her gaze drifts to the workstation screen, which is still displaying Chapter Four of Commander Blade Starfire’s adventures: When the Beast Breaks Free.
Her expression shifts through several distinct phases—confusion, realization, and what might be barely suppressed amusement.
“You were researching how to seduce me using romance novels?”
The words hang in the air between us, and I can feel my face heating despite my best efforts at maintaining dignity. “I was attempting to understand appropriate approaches for courtship situations involving biochemically bonded partners,” I say carefully. “I do not wish to make you uncomfortable through ignorance of human preferences.”
“So you decided to consult Commander Blade Starfire for guidance.” There’s definite amusement in her voice now, warm rather than mocking.
“He seems very... successful... with female partners?” It comes out like a question, which probably undermines whatever authority I was trying to project.
She makes a sound that’s definitely strangled laughter. “Crash, Commander Blade Starfire is a fictional pirate whosolves relationship problems through strategic kidnapping and brooding in his quarters while his muscles ripple. He’s not a guidebook.”
“He is not?”
“He’s fantasy. Entertainment. Not an instruction manual for actual human courtship.” She’s fighting a smile now, and I can see it in the way her mouth twitches.
This is deeply disappointing. “Then how do human males successfully court human females?”
From the galley comes a soft thump, followed by the sound of enthusiastic reorganization. A moment later, Jitters appears, glowing with helpful pink pride as he positions himself near the coffee maker and begins reshaping himself into an efficient filtration system.
“Is he—” Zola starts, watching with fascinated attention as Jitters flows through his transformation.
“Becoming the coffee filter again, yes,” I confirm. “He enjoys being useful. And possibly enabling your caffeine dependency.”
She watches as Jitters completes his preparations with practiced efficiency, her scientific curiosity clearly engaged despite the early hour and lack of coffee. “How does his cellular structure maintain integrity while filtering liquid at different temperatures? The protein matrices alone should be fascinating from a biochemical perspective.”
And just like that, we’re back to safer territory. I move closer—within comfortable bond distance—and begin explaining Junglix biology while she makes coffee and Jitters preens under her attention.
“Junglix possess adaptive protein matrices that can shift molecular density based on external stimulus,” I explain, grateful for a topic that doesn’t involve my humiliating research into fictional courtship strategies. “The filtration processactually stimulates their cellular regeneration—he finds the activity soothing.”
