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Michael gasped as Chris held her against the shower wall, driving into her with deep, forceful, beautiful thrusts. The water swirled down on them, making everything slicker, hotter, Chris kissing his way back up to her mouth, flicking his tongue against hers.

Her hands gripped his shoulders, flexing every time he hit that spot that made something short-circuit in her brain, sending a rush of good feeling everywhere. He was probably going to have bruises, but she couldn't think about that now. She couldn't think.

Chris slipped one hand between them, skimming her clit perfectly as his mouth found her earlobe and bit. Fingers still moving, he whispered, "Come for me, Michael" and that was it, she was done, every muscle going tight as the pleasure overtook her, stealing her breath.

Distantly, Michael heard his ragged moan, felt his rhythm stutter, but it was all hazy, behind a fog she was too blissed-out to see through.

Instead she just breathed as the aftershocks trembled through her, senses coming back slowly, until she finally had the presence of mind to pull her head away from the shower wall.

Chris raised his head from her shoulder and smiled a little. He pressed his mouth to hers, the kiss lush, something she wanted to fall into.

So she did, kissing him back, licking into his mouth, teasing at his palette. Chris smirked and bit her lip, playful.

"Okay, you win," Michael murmured against his mouth, flexing her legs around him. "Why haven't we done this before?"

"To be fair, we were lucky to make it to the bed," he said, wry.

"Progress, then."

Chris smiled again, then sighed as he pulled out of her. He kept her braced against the wall, letting her lower shaky legs to the floor. Michael winced at the stretch; she'd be feeling this for a while.

"Come on, Commander. Wouldn't want to be late for the morning briefing."

***

They never made it to the briefing. Instead they got called to the bridge, to another far-flung red angel signal, again blinking out just in time for their arrival. Just in time for them to find a fresh scientific mystery, some kind of portal on an asteroid headed into a supernova, its entrance inscribed with a code that called to Michael, something about it feeling familiar, though she had no idea why. The computer made quick work of it, using the data from the sphere as a guide, and she skimmed through the rolling results on her screen.

"According to the translation of the symbols, anyone who enters the portal must have two sets of DNA lest they be split apart. It's about duality," Michael concluded, looking out to the bridge crew.

"Well, that's a pickle," Chris muttered.

"Commander Stamets has tardigrade DNA and would technically qualify," Saru put in.

Chris frowned. "We need the spore drive to get back to Federation territory. I'm loathe to send our operator on an unknown mission, alone, unless it's a last resort."

Michael shifted her stance, feeling the echo of Chris inside her. She froze, an idea occurring to her, quickly followed by a wave of discomfort. Just...really?

She looked back to the asteroid. It could hold an important clue...

Spock turned to Chris, calm as ever: "As a half-human, half-Vulcan, my DNA would seem to qualify."

Michael shook her head. "But you only have one set of DNA. This specifically requires two."

Tyler gestured to himself: "Human-Klingon hybrid right here."

Chris looked conflicted. "Frankly, Mr. Tyler, we don't know what you are. Your DNA didn't register as Klingon when you first came aboard, so who knows what that thing would make of you."

Michael's jaw set. Her hesitance was emotional, illogical, and she was above that. So she looked to Chris, detaching herself from her emotions as was second nature by now, focusing on the solution to the problem. "We're missing the obvious here."

"If you're about to suggest sending someone who's pregnant, that's gonna be a short conversation," Chris said.

Michael smiled a little at their parallel thoughts, at his first-rate mind. "Agreed, sir. I was thinking more how you get that way." Michael could see the moment Chris realized where she was headed, surprise flickering into something heated, all quickly masked. The confused frowns around the room were another matter, so she continued: "Sperm stays in the body for up to seven days post sexual activity." She shrugged. "I could do it."

Michael could actually feel it land, the entire room reacting with a breath, stunned that they were now essentially discussing her sex life. Tyler's eyes burned into the side of her head; Michael didn't turn to acknowledge him. His reaction wasn't...relevant.

Bryce looked to her like he couldn't believe it. "Wait. Seven days?"

Tilly looked at him askance. "Oh, my god, it's the 23rd Century. How do guys not know this?"

Owo turned to join the discussion. "That seven days decreases with bathing."

Michael could still feel Tyler's eyes on her. He voiced the obvious: "Your hair was wet this morning."

She kept her gaze on Chris, cool. "Not an issue. I could do it," Michael maintained, which he well knew and personally, but needed to be said for appearances.

"But that would mean..." Tilly trailed off as she, and likely the rest of the bridge crew, did the math on that one.

Thankfully Chris jumped in: "Mind your business, Ensign Tilly. Gentlemen, if you're mindblown by this, you have some reading to do before you sleep with anyone else. Ladies, thank you for this teachable moment." He looked to Michael. "Burnham, my concern is how these red angel missions keep coming up you."

Spock nodded. "I agree. Random chance can't account for these correlations."

Michael dipped her chin in agreement. It was quite something that the first time she had shower sex with Chris, it turned out to be the answer to a red angel problem. "We should keep looking into why, but it doesn't change the facts of this mission." Michael nodded to the image of the asteroid on screen, careening toward the supernova. "And we're running out of time."

Chris sighed, but he couldn't argue with that. "Go to it, Commander."

With a quick nod, Michael headed for the turbolift. Behind her she heard Tilly offer: "Um, I'm just gonna go...help." She hurried to join Michael.

As soon as the turbolift doors closed, Tilly rounded on Michael: "What supernaturally discreet crewman are you having hotass morning shower sex with and how could you not tell me?"

Michael clung to a lifetime of Vulcan-trained impassivity: "Answering that would negate the discretion, don't you think?"

"Michael."

"Mind your business, Tilly."

***

Later, after Michael returned in one piece with nothing but more clues—and a desperate need to crawl into bed with Chris—she sat in the mess hall, eating her dinner, biding her time and trying to distract herself with the red angel case. Every step forward simply led to a dozen more questions. What even was the point of all that if she was just going to get some readings and come back with nothing, the portal yet another dead end?

A worried part of her wondered if the...personal revelations it forced was the point. But that made the red angel mystery entirely about her in a way that struck her as egotistical in the extreme.

And yet, she couldn't shake the thought. Especially now, when people were watching her. It was nothing ominous or too obvious, little glances here and there, but she'd become sensitive to such attention after her mutiny and incarceration. She knew when people were keeping track of her movements.

The news of her mission—and just why she was able to go on it—was no doubt making the rounds. Michael knew that her lack of...engagement with some of the social aspects of the crew was noted, though it wasn't treated with open hostility, more curiosity. To have her personal life suddenly flaunted in front of everyone, well, that was bound to get attention.

Tilly dropping down across from her cut off that train of thought. Michael could always count on her to be direct about things.

"You know I'm happy for you, right?" Tilly asked, her eyes wide and sincere.

Michael sighed. "Tilly—"

"No, I just want to be clear that I, Sylvia Tilly, fully support you having loads of sex with your bedroom ninja."

Michael let a smile touch her lips, knowing she was being genuine. "I appreciate that."

"Okay, but seriously, who is it?"

Michael simply stared at her, telling her with a look that that was a no-go.

"Oh, come on!" Tilly cried out, like this was a personal insult. She studied Michael some more, then rolled her eyes. "Ugh, fine. At least tell me the sex is good."

Michael couldn't help the little satisfied smile at that.

Tilly missed nothing, of course. "And now I'm jealous."

"Like your social life is so empty," Michael shot back, fully aware of the array of offers Tilly entertained at any given time.

"Secret sex is hotter. Don't deny it."

Not so secret anymore, sadly. Michael sighed. "Everyone knows?"

Tilly actually laughed at her. "We're on a starship, Michael."

"Full of professionals..." she protested.

Tilly scoffed. "There will be a betting pool by morning. Actually, I should get in on that."

"Tilly!"

"All right, I won't bet on your sex life. But I can guarantee you that some enterprising ensigns are making a list of every man on the ship and starting to check names off. The interrogations have probably already begun."

Michael pushed her plate away, her appetite suddenly gone. "Don't people have better things to do with their time?"

Tilly just laughed again.

***

Even later, when Michael had waited long enough, and the corridors were empty enough, she made her way to Chris' quarters, the doors parting for her automatically, as they always did these days.

Chris looked up at her entrance, warmth flooding his eyes the way it always did when they were alone, like nothing pleased him more than seeing her. Pleasure sparked through her, heating her blood. Chris stood from the couch, setting his PADD aside. "There you are."

A few quick strides had Michael in his arms, reaching up to pull his head down into an open-mouthed kiss.

Chris made a surprised noise and kissed her back, light hands moving around her, clearly not expecting the manhandling. His mouth tasted like the whisky he had sometimes after work, when he was thinking through a problem. Michael imagined him drinking and waiting for her, a pulse of heat settling between her legs.

She didn't have to imagine him anymore. He was right here.

Chris broke the kiss with a coy grin. "Have something in mind for tonight, Michael?"

Michael leaned in and kissed his neck, moving down to the open collar of his shirt. He'd changed into something more comfortable...and easier to take off. How convenient. "Been thinking about this since the bridge."

Chris firmed his hands on her body, tipping his head back and giving her better access to lave at his collarbone. "I think you shocked the crew. There was pearl clutching."

Michael pulled back, her irritation flaring. "Everyone keeps looking at me."

"Well, you did paint a picture."

"I am allowed to have sex," she said, a touch of indignance filtering through.

Chris nodded, butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. "I wholeheartedly agree."

Michael narrowed her eyes. "Take off your clothes."

Chris' seriousness cracked, smile flashing as he pulled her close, into a kiss. "Yes, ma'am," he said, shuffling her back to the bedroom, pushing her to sit on the bed. He stripped off his shirt, then dropped to his knees, pressing between her legs with a wicked little grin.

But Michael was already shaking her head, shrugging out of her uniform jacket and pulling off her undershirt. "Get up here."

Chris paused, one hand on her inner thigh, expression saying he didn't trust this. "Just to be clear, you're turning down my mouth."

He licked his lips, looking up at her with those blue eyes from between her legs, sending a flash of heat careening through her.

But no. She wouldn't be distracted. "Later. I want you inside me."

Chris blinked in surprise. After a beat he relented, starting to work on his pants as Michael attacked her own clothes, the two of them stripping naked with fumbling urgency.

Then he was in bed, blanketing her perfectly, weight pinning her down, erection pressed against her hip. Michael gasped at his heat, stretching out underneath him, reveling in his skin on hers, exactly what she'd been wanting since she shifted on the bridge and felt the emptiness inside her.

Chris kissed her again, slow and luxurious, running teasing fingers down her side, but Michael just grunted a negative and bit at his lip. Hard. "No foreplay. Get inside me."

He pulled back a little, studying her. "Really."

His inflection was dubious, so Michael grabbed his hand and pressed it between her legs, where she had been wet and open all day. "I am ready."

Chris' eyes went wide...and then a little unfocused. He acquiesced with a little head tilt—a nonverbal you asked for it—before he leaned down and took her mouth harder. He didn't waste any time, simply spread her legs wider, lined himself up, and sank in.

Michael broke their kiss to gasp, legs cradling him as he pushed all the way inside, heat sliding up her spine, lighting her up everywhere. "Yes," she cried out, head thrown back.

Chris sucked on the base of her neck as he shifted his body up and started grinding into her, rubbing against her clit, pleasure sparking all over.

Michael made some kind of wordless, helpless noise as she felt her body starting to clench around him. This really wasn't going to take long.

He seemed to sense the same, kissing up her neck and finding her mouth again, tangling their tongues together. He pulled back to breathe against her mouth, voice gone thick with lust. "You weren't kidding," he rumbled, dark and hot.

Michael's body tightened around him in response—totally involuntary, making her gasp—pulling a groan from him. Her body shook, tremors starting somewhere deep.

"Chris," she begged, hands grasping at his back, trying to get more.

"Fuck," he muttered, control cracking. He shifted back and thrust into her, deep, just like she liked. The snap of his hips was relentless, perfect, his own body starting to shake against hers every time he drove into her.

Michael curled around him and held on, everything in her reaching for him. Chris seemed to get it, his glancing fingers over her clit setting her off, body fluttering uncontrollably around him as her orgasm swept through her.

She cried out, a million points of light underneath her skin all flaring at once, and Chris dropped his head to her shoulder, moaning long and low as he came inside her.

They stayed like that for a minute, breathing against each other as tremors racked them both.

Eventually, Chris inhaled a sharp breath and pulled out of her. He pushed himself up and away, rolling over to slump by her side. But he didn't move far, one hand resting on her stomach as he caught his breath. "I'd like it noted for the record that I usually have more finesse than that."

Michael smiled, raising her arms in a full body stretch. She didn't miss how his eyes flowed over her, appreciative. "You were perfect," she said, low, rolling into him. "That was exactly what I wanted."

Chris snorted, amused, pulling her close. "Glad to be of service."

***

Michael zipped up her jacket, trying to straighten her mussed appearance in the holo-mirror. She could fix her clothes as much as she liked, but one look at her mouth and it would be clear what she'd been doing.

"You don't have to go," Chris said, padding up to kiss her neck, shirtless, hair mussed from Michael running her hands through it, sleep pants slung low on his hips. The idea was tempting—stay here with him, let him put that mouth to good use. Again.

"0300 is when most people are asleep."

"No kidding," Chris said, like he wished he were one of them. He wrapped his arms around her from behind, loose. Their image in the mirror hit her, a yearning in her belly she didn't quite understand. They looked relaxed, intimate. Happy.

Michael swallowed. "People are paying attention now. This is the best time to avoid any prying eyes," she clarified, leaning back against him, closing her eyes at the strength she found there, at how effortlessly he held her up.

Chris simply hmmed against her and kissed her ear. "Your call."

Michael smiled a little and turned in his arms. "I'll see you at the briefing." She leaned up to kiss him and he returned it, soft.

Before it went too far and tested her resolve, Michael stepped away. "Cancel mirror." The holo-mirror disappeared.

Chris moved to a display on the wall. "Computer, show positions of any nearby crew, authorization Pike-1." The computer chirped in reply and a map of the corridor appeared, no crew to be found. He nodded to her. "You're good."

"As are you, Captain." Michael stepped close, unable to stop herself from drawing him into another kiss. He fell into it easily, teasing the underside of her tongue with his own, arms moving around her again.

Michael caught herself and pulled back, clearing her throat. "Right. I'm leaving now."

His eyes were amused. "You do that."

Michael mock-glared at him and stepped back for real this time, taking in his inviting, disheveled look, blue eyes warm, that really-quite-talented mouth quirking—

She forced herself to turn for the door, not looking back at the low laugh that followed her out.

There was only so much temptation she could resist.

***

Michael had specifically picked 0300 for how dead it was, so it was a surprise to turn the corner to her quarters and find someone there.

Not just someone. Ash. Camped out in a little alcove beyond her quarters, tossing a rubber ball against the opposite wall over and over again. Waiting for her.

Michael pulled up short as he spotted her and hopped to his feet, chagrined.

"Really?" Michael asked, irritated on several levels, not least because there was no way he'd miss her sex-mussed look. He had firsthand, intimate experience, after all.

Ash's expression went apologetic. "Look, I know. But I wanted to talk to you."

"So you waited outside my quarters? All night?"

"I didn't think it'd be this long." Ash seemed to catch himself, holding out a hand. "Wait, that sounded like an accusation, which it really isn't."

He seemed so sincere that Michael sighed. "Why are you here, Ash?"

"I'm sorry about this morning, okay? I shouldn't have said that thing about your hair. It wasn't—I got caught off guard, that's all."

Michael shifted, awkward. She wanted to revel in the post-sex endorphins still singing through her blood, not be confronted with his sadness and remorse, which always made her feel vaguely guilty even though none of it was her fault.

The nice thing about never having relationships was never finding herself in these situations. She suddenly missed those days.

"I didn't take offense," she offered, sudden exhaustion sweeping through her.

"Good. I just—I don't want to be that guy, you know? I'm not that guy. I know I messed everything up between us, I accept that, and if you've found someone who makes you happy then I'm happy for you."

Michael blinked, startled, suddenly wide awake again. "Wait. What?"

"That's what I wanted to say," he explained, patient. "Good for you, Michael. You deserve love. I don't want it to be, I dunno, weird between us because it's not with me."

Michael blinked at him, utterly thrown. "...Thanks," she finally managed, bewildered at the direction this conversation had gone. He was...putting the past to bed, she realized. He was doing the adult thing: moving on after relationships ended, not harboring resentments.

A wave of self-recrimination swept through her as Michael realized she'd assumed the worst of him. She'd thought he would want to confront her, push all his hurt onto her. But Ash was a good man, at his core. The still-wounded part of her tended to forget that.

"Anyway, get some rest," he continued, wholly sincere, no recriminations to be found. "I'll see you at the briefing."

He nodded and walked off, Michael's eyes following him automatically. But that felt wrong; she shouldn't leave it like that.

"Ash." He turned to look back at her, curious. "Really, thank you."

Ash shrugged. Then he took a beat and smirked: "Hey, at least one of us is getting laid."

Michael smiled and shook her head at him as he waved, cocky, and strode off.

Her smile faded as she internalized this new information. It was...unexpected. She'd never forget the way he hurt her, but she didn't have to hold it so close, either. They could both move on.

***

After the midday briefing, Michael lingered behind the others, letting them file out before her. Chris saw what she was doing and waited until they were alone, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Ash was waiting outside my quarters this morning," she said, low, moving to stand by his desk, Chris backlit by the stars flying by behind him.

His other eyebrow joined the first. "At three o'clock in the morning?"

"Not...like that," she reassured. Then she shook her head. "I think he was...giving me his blessing. Letting me know it was okay." Michael fumbled over the words, not sure they were sufficient.

Chris seemed to understand, his expression softening as he leaned against his chair. "I know that's important to you. Not to hurt people needlessly."

Michael nodded, still working through her own complex reaction. "I...didn't know I needed to hear that from him. I didn't think it would matter, but..."

Chris went warm, nodding. He took a step toward her—

And the door opened behind Michael. Chris stilled, looking behind her, something flickering in his expression before he shuttered it. Michael turned—

To find Spock there, his all-seeing eyes taking them in. Michael tensed up. He didn't need to say a word, she could see it clear as day: he knew.

Spock nodded to them, short: "I didn't mean to interrupt. I'll return at a more advantageous time."

With that, he about-faced and left, as abrupt as he had arrived.

Michael turned to Chris. "I'm going to—"

"Yeah," Chris said instantly, his tone telling her he'd sensed exactly what she had.

No more needing to be said, she headed for the door, striding out into the corridor and hurrying to catch up to Spock

"How did you know?" she asked, pitching her voice low, just in case anyone approached.

Spock stopped walking and turned, studying her. "The fact that you believed you were being discreet speaks volumes about your objectivity. Or lack thereof."

Michael shot him a look, inviting him to expand on that. "Be that as it may."

Spock never could resist the urge to show off his intellectual prowess. Michael wasn't above using it.

His head-tilt told her he was aware, but was going along anyway. "Though we may not have spoken in many years, I do know you, Michael. You have no interest in casual liaisons and your sense of honor precludes anything that might be construed as inappropriate. Thus, any relationship would have to be among senior officers. And you are drawn to integrity. Really, it was entirely logical."

"I see," she said evenly, surprised that she could be so predictable, but also not, on some level.

Spock regarded her, thoughtful. "Captain Pike is a good man." That surprisingly banal observation complete, he walked off, leaving Michael staring after him.

***

Chris looked up when she returned to the ready room, hand rubbing over his mouth. A nervous gesture. "And?"

"I think—I think he approves." Michael shook her head, not quite believing it.

Neither did Chris. "He said that?"

"He said you're a good man." Something eased around Chris' eyes at that, like he read it the same way she had.

Then his expression went wry. "Is it weird that I feel like we just got permission to have sex from our parents?"

Michael laughed. Before she could pick that one up, Saru's voice sounded over the comms: "Captain Pike to the bridge."

"On my way, Commander," Chris said in response. Then he looked to Michael, some kind of helpless happiness settling around him. "Let's see what else this day has in store for us."

***

"You know, this look is really working for me," Chris said idly, pressing two fingers into her, then crooking them to work her g-spot.

Michael gasped and tried to move against his fingers, but his other hand held her down, eyes gleaming as he took in her body, naked on his desk.

She tried to gather her scattered thoughts, raising an eyebrow at him. "Me, naked on your desk and you, fully-clothed? Talk about a throwback to 20th Century power dynamics."

"That's not why," he said, thumb brushing over her clit lightly, sending her head back to thunk against the desk as she moaned. "Okay, maybe it's a little bit why. But mostly it's the trust inherent in—"

Chris was interrupted by the comms system, Bryce's voice coming through: "Bryce to Captain Pike."

Michael froze, her head snapping up to look at Chris. He didn't pull away. No, he kept watching her, a wicked little gleam appearing in his eyes.

Then he brushed her clit again, sending a rush of heat through her as he called out, "Pike here."

Michael stared at him in disbelief, but she couldn't help how her body tightened around him as she realized...he wasn't going to stop.

"Sorry to bother you so late, sir, but the communique you asked for from Starfleet Command just came through," Bryce said, his voice filling the room.

"That's sooner than I expected," Chris said, continuing his very normal captain conversation while buried hand-deep inside her. Michael gritted her teeth, trying clamp down on her response to his fingers working her.

"Yes, sir, they rushed it for you."

Chris tapped his thumb on her clit lightly, making stars burst through her vision, and Michael threw her arm over her face, biting down so that she wouldn't cry out.

"Did they indicate if anything they found was urgent?" Chris asked smoothly, tugging her arm away, leaning over, and taking her mouth. The two fingers inside her rubbed insistently at her g-spot as his thumb played with her clit, sending her whole body vibrating.

"No, sir, nothing urgent."

Chris broke the kiss. "Good to know. Send it to my PADD and we'll discuss at the morning briefing. Pike out." He looked over to make sure the connection was closed.

"You...ass," Michael gasped out, nails digging into his shoulders, frantic.

Chris grinned, delighted. "You liked that."

Michael flushed, trying to get ahold of herself, which was really very difficult when he was still fingering her perfectly, hitting every spot that made her breathing hitch. "I did not."

"Say what you want, I could feel it," he insisted, flexing his fingers inside her, eyes gleaming with his newfound knowledge.

"You have very talented hands," Michael panted, trying to arch into him.

"A likely story." But he sped up his fingers, working her over just the way she liked until she was a shaking, gasping mess, crying out her release into his shoulder, body spasming around him.

In the aftermath, he kissed her, soft, cupping her cheek.

Michael caught her breath, feeling the sweat pooling at the small of her back. "You gonna get naked now?" she asked, not missing how her rough voice made him shiver.

Chris took her in, banked heat in his eyes. "I think we're gonna need more room."

***

Later, after he fucked her through two more orgasms until her body felt like a wrung-out towel in the best kind of way, Michael leaned against him in bed, tracing her fingers through his chest hair. "It does feel like the outside world is...intruding a little more."

Chris hmmed and kissed the top of her head, stroking down her back. "It was bound to happen. We've been in a little bubble for a few weeks now."

"I put us in that bubble," Michael admitted, turning and resting her chin on his chest so she could look up at him.

Chris shrugged. "It takes two."

"Yes, but if it were up to you..."

Chris tipped his head, acknowledging her point. "My policy has always been if you feel the need to hide something, you probably shouldn't be doing it. That said, you're a Vulcan-raised human who grew up in a house that was targeted from the jump. I get why you'd value privacy and I have no problem with it." He considered for a beat. "And I've never been anyone's dirty little secret. It's kind of novel."

Michael stared at him. Sometimes it was hard to believe he was even real. "You're always accommodating me."

Chris rested a hand on the back of her neck, eyes warm. "Hey now, this is hardly selfless. I'll take you however I can get you. I hope I haven't been shy about communicating that."

Michael dropped a kiss to his chest, shaking her head. Then she sighed. "Still it feels like our bubble's about to burst."

"People love uncovering a good secret," he agreed.

"Suggestions, Captain?" she asked, arching a teasing eyebrow.

He slanted a knowing look at her, then went thoughtful. "If it's gonna get out anyway..."

Michael blinked. "What? You want to just...tell people?" Michael tried to imagine how that conversation would go. 'Thanks for that report, did you know I'm sleeping with the captain?'

No. Just no.

Chris read some of that on her face and snorted, laughing a little. "Or we could start spending more time together publicly and let people figure it out."

"Publicly," she repeated, dubious.

"I'm not suggesting fucking you on the bridge," he said, dry. "Though after that little comms thing, I doubt you'd mind."

Michael playfully punched his chest, getting a grin in response. Then the mirth drained away, leaving only fondness. "Lunches. Dinners. Arriving and leaving together. Staying the night. Not actively hiding anything. People are smart; they'll get it."

Michael imagined what that would look like, what it would mean. She wouldn't have to sneak out in the dead of night anymore. She wouldn't have to dodge Tilly's questions. She wouldn't have to worry about being found out. It sounded...freeing.

She smiled a little, nodding. "We could do that."

Chris smiled back, pulling her up to him and into a kiss. "We could."

***

Fin. Feedback is adored.