She looked over, the other way, where he was sleeping.
Such an odd name for him. It wasn't his real name that was for sure, for his real name had made her laugh. He was really named Oscar, and she had thought that so old-fashioned and funny that she had not been able to stop giggling whenever she thought of it. And he had kissed her giggling to try to get her to stop, but to no avail, so they figured they'd settle on a nickname. Osc did not seem to work, so eventually she had come up with Osh, rhymes with Josh.
And so they had taken up together, and maybe five months ago he had more or less moved in, as her roommate had gone off to more or less live with the guy who ran the bio lab and his roommate's girl had more or less moved in and nobody was fully committed but there were an awful lot of shared dresser drawers and people who rarely woke up in their own beds anymore.
He was still sleeping, naked, on his stomach, facing away from her. He was partly covered; the sheet had slipped to about his calves or so. There was his haircut, too short and too military and he wouldn't change it no matter how much she asked him to. He was a MACO, he said, and he had to look tough. His shoulder, smooth and muscular, a warm brown color. His skin was the color, what was it? It was kind of like perfectly done toast. You know, not raw and not burned. Crunchy, but, well, he wasn't crunchy of course.
His back, farther down, hiding curling, wiry hairs that she had threatened to bring to Engineering with her to work and twist into cables. And he had laughed and told her not to harvest any because that would really hurt but she did find them, on occasion, in the sheets or sometimes she would pick them out from between her teeth. Wiry and durable, like he was. And his legs! The Major had said he was the fastest runner; he could beat anyone on a treadmill or in the field. Before they had taken up together, it had been how he'd worked off his energies. Now he had other means for doing so.
He shifted slightly in his sleep and that's when the smells hit her, and they made her nauseous. She lay there, not moving, trying to will herself to not throw up. These were not bad smells. It was her body wash, which smelled like almonds. And his lip balm, a bit of peppermint. And his aftershave, which smelled like limes. And his shampoo, which smelled of apples. He had gone back to his quarters to get it because she was running low on her coconut shampoo and so she was rationing it and he just had the apple stuff lying around. He was kinda thoughtful that way.
But right now the almonds and the apples and the limes and the peppermint and her own smells of almonds and coconut and peach body spray were all making her feel awful and it seemed too warm and close and humid even though she knew that that could not possibly be the case on the NX-01.
She got up tentatively, trying not to wake him. She got herself to the little bathroom, and lost last night's Chicken Teriyaki. That made her feel only slightly better. This was, possibly, more than just a stomach bug.
She got her uniform on. Commander Tucker, she would have to tell him she'd possibly be late. She sent a quick message, knowing full well that Tucker and the rest of Engineering's day shift wasn't even up yet. 0417 hours.
She slowly began to walk to Sick Bay, clutching the walls like a drunken sailor.
Doctor Phlox was there, smiling an all-too wide Denobulan grin, and that made her sick again and she went into the bathroom and lost last night's side salad.
He looked at her and got her onto the biobed, and performed a scan. She looked at him, concerned, but he just smiled and smiled, looking a tad demented and certainly not comforting her one iota. Bedside manner? What's that? Is that something only you humans appreciate?
Osh came in; he must have noticed she wasn't lying there beside him. She was emerging from the scanner. He took her hand and looked worried. They glanced up at Phlox, who was typing something; it was some sort of finding.
Phlox directed them to the screen, showing the results of the scan, and she could smell apples and peaches and coconut and almonds and peppermint and limes. She was still a little tentative, but Sick Bay was a bit cooler and so she could keep whatever remained of last night's dinner down.
The screen said Mother: Carter, Tracey (Engineering Ensign); Father: Tiburón, Oscar (MACO Private).
And the thing on the scan was no bigger than an almond.