Log Date:
	7/11, 7/12/99

Log Cast:
	Webb, Shenner

Log Intro:
	In this corner, Shenneret Veery, xenomusicologist in training,
part-time freedom fighter, and lead singer of the Womprats. 
	And in that corner, Jonathan Webb, Ranger, Lieutenant in the CDU
Marines, part-time alleged terrorist, soldier, and all around general "Rebel 
scum" (if you happen to get the opinion of Imperials).
	They're an unlikely pair of people to have a friendship, and an
even more unlikely pair of people to be smacked upside the head with the
kind of warm, powerful sentiment that's risen up to swamp them both on a
night that started off with the simple purpose of Webb helping Shen practice
her ability to swim. Soldier and singer have wound up drawn to one another
in a way they've never experienced before between them. One thing's led to
another, taking them back to Shenner's apartment -- where they've yielded
to the inevitable.
	But although Shenner's profoundly amazed with herself for having
been attracted so powerfully to a man who is not Paul Nighman... and 
especially for having followed through on that attraction to the extent
that she now has... it seems that Lieutenant Webb has a couple more surprises
in store for her...

----------
Understandably, after the exertion of the night before, Webb isn't especially 
  eager to fully awaken when that first ray of sunshine streams through the 
  window marking the arrival of the dawn. His eyes do open long enough for him 
  to take in his surroundings, and determine that yes, further relaxation is 
  permissable. With a soft sigh indicative of his comfort, he snuggles up 
  closer to the warmth of the body laying beneath the blankets with him, and 
  allows his eyes to drift shut once more.

Long before she'd had to help fight in the recent war on Caspar, Shenner had 
  been in the habit of making herself wake up as quickly as possible. This 
  habit of hers had in recent years grown a bit rusty as her habitual places 
  of residence shifted into safer locales... but with the coming of the war, 
  she'd gotten back into the practice of waking swiftly. It doesn't take much; 
  the increase of light in her room is enough, under most circumstances. This 
  morning, there's the added input of someone curled about her, and so she 
  just... wakes. One moment she's drowsing, and the next, her eyes are open as 
  she finds herself gazing in deep bemusement at the man who's in her arms.

"Mmm," is about all that Webb can really say at the moment as a lazy smile 
  spreads across his features. Sensing perhaps faint movement, or maybe just 
  getting the feeling that someone is watching him, one of Webb's eyes drifts 
  open again in a manner almost comically reminiscent of a sleepy feline. 
  Slowly that eye turns to look upon your face for confirmation that last 
  night was not merely a dream.

Not a dream, no. Shenner is there, loose red curls spreading out from her head 
  in a spill of color across her pillow. Her bed being as narrow as it is, 
  she's still quite close to you, her arm loosely curled around your middle, 
  legs entwined with yours though she's stuck a foot out from under the bottom 
  of her bedclothes. And her face, very close to your own, softens into a shy, 
  lopsided little smile. "Mornin'," she murmurs.

Webb's other eye slowly opens, as if he needs confirmation of what the first 
  eye is seeing. His smile spreads a little wider as he takes in the details 
  of the face looking towards him. Both of his arms are wrapped about your 
  body, one around your shoulders, cradling you as your head rests against his 
  shoulder. The other's hand was resting in the small of your back, but has 
  now begun to lazily slide up your body, until it finally emerges from 
  beneath the blanket, permitting him to reach up to delicately brush your 
  hair back from your face. "Morning," he answers as his fingers pass through 
  the soft russet mass.

Last night, Shenner had been far too caught up in the moment to be conscious 
  of ramifications and implications of what she'd been doing. Now, at peace, 
  her frame molded against you as if she'd been poured there, she has the 
  mental space to realize something of what she'd missed the night before. She 
  cannot help but think of that Corellian, the first man with whom she'd 
  shared experiences like this one -- but what surprises her is not that 
  there's now a second man. It is certainly no surprise to her that that 
  second man is _you_. What does surprise her, turning her expression shyer 
  and vulnerable, is the utter lack of regret she feels. She is comfortable 
  and relaxed and content... and it feels wonderful. So do the fingers in her 
  hair. Her smile grows a little larger, and she whispers simply, "This is 
  nice..."

Another contented sigh escapes from Webb's lips, before he murmurs a soft, 
  "Mmmhmmm," of wholehearted agreement. One of his feet begins to move 
  slightly, tracing a slow path up and down along your ankle and calf as he 
  gazes into your eyes. "Very nice," he murmurs again before he lifts his 
  head, bringing his face close enough to press his lips against your forehead.

Shen's eyes flutter shut as you kiss her brow, and she rubs her cheek against 
  your shoulder, squeezing you gently with the arm she's got around you. Held 
  this closely, this tenderly, she can feel a lump threatening to form in her 
  throat; her voice low and husky, she murmurs against your skin, "Will you... 
  have to go soon...?"

Webb is silent for a moment, before he withdraws his fingers from your hair 
  and starts to fish for his chronometre, eventually managing to snatch it off 
  of the night-stand, and bring it into his line of sight. He already knows 
  the answer that he wants to give, even if it might be hopelessly 
  unrealistic. He squints for a moment as his still-foggy eyes attempt to 
  focus upon the chrono, "Mm... gotta go to work... eventually. Not for a 
  while though..." he smiles faintly and lifts his head slightly, before he 
  asks, "You alright?"

Shen considers this question -- in fact, has been considering it since she 
  woke up to find herself cradled in your arms. And as if hearing you voice 
  the words settles it all into place, her smile flares up big and warm for a 
  moment before settling down again to that crooked little grin. Her gaze, 
  though, has gone remarkably clear and sure and peaceful, and she tells you 
  succintly, "I'm good." That clear gaze moves over your face, taking in all 
  the details, before she appends a touch bashfully, "You?"

"Yeah," murmurs Webb with a gentle smile upon his face and a faint sparkle in 
  his eyes. Something in his tone of voice and the warmth of his expression 
  makes him sound awfully certain about that assessment, "Better than I've 
  been in a long time," before he drifts back to the prior topic, "Made 
  arrangements to take the morning off... don't have to be in until 1300 
  hours."

"1300," Shen muses softly. That sounds delightfully, deliciously off in the 
  far future, and her pleasure at this is unmistakable as her mouth curls up 
  more on its right side. "What, um... whatcha wanna do till then?"

Webb's expression turns thoughtful as his lips approach to plant a series of 
  kisses about your face, including one playful kiss right upon the tip of 
  your nose. "Well," he begins to explain, "We /could/ get up, take a cold 
  shower, and go for a nice 10km run..." a teasing smirk flashes across his 
  fac, indicating utter facetiousness, before he offers the other choice, "Or 
  we could lay around here where it's warm and cozy, until some kind of 
  civilised hour, make love a couple of times... and then make pancakes for 
  breakfast?"

Shenner can't help but splutter a little, turning vividly crimson, even as 
  startlement and surprise broadens her grin. "Coupla times?" she blurts, 
  throat going dry at the thought. "Y-you tryin' to kill me, pal?"

Webb arches an eyebrow faintly at that particular 'accusation' and asks, 
  "Oh... is that a vote for the 10 km run then?" As if to emphasise his 
  remark, the wind shifts outside, blowing a soft spray of rain against the 
  bedroom window. In addition to providing incentive to stay indoors, the 
  sound has a decidedly soothing quality to it, and serves to emphasise the 
  coziness and security of the environs of the bed.

Rain on Caspar? Well, that's hardly a surprise. But as the dawn light is 
  gentled by the rainshower and the soft pattering sound strikes her window, 
  Shenner glances off towards the pane for a moment... and blushes vigorously. 
  "I'm just sayin', I-I mean..." Of course, as she's saying this, she's 
  showing absolutely no sign of moving out of your arms. Trying to sound 
  casual and teasing, she wets her lips and adds, "You sure you ain't 
  Corellian?"

Webb's pale, decidedly non-scoundrelish features are of the sort which would 
  be pretty difficult to mistake for Corellian, or at least any of the 
  commonly held stereotypes. He's also lacking a fast ship and a wookiee 
  sidekick. Details, details. With a soft chuckle he murmurs into your ear as 
  he nuzzles into your cheek, "Corulag..."

Shenner draws in a breath at that murmur, as well as the nuzzle. "You..." Her 
  voice roughens a litle, and softens. "... make a real persuasive argument..."

Webb's lips find their way to your earlobe, and begin to travel across it in 
  gentle exploration until they find their way to the soft part at the very 
  bottom. A tender touch is lavished upon it with his tongue before he 
  whispers softly, "Love you..." and finds himself wondering if he's ever gone 
  so far as to say that to you before.

Within your arms, Shenner goes still, breath catching in her throat. Her eyes, 
  though they're not in immediate viewing range, go wide. And she whispers out 
  tinily, "Wh... what?"

Webb pulls back a little, detecting your surprise or apprehension, or whatever 
  it might be. His head angles slightly, so that he's once again gazing down 
  into your eyes as he asks in an uncharacteristically soft, almost timid 
  voice, "Am I allowed to care about you?" Those words could seem like an 
  incredibly silly question... or maybe the most sensible one he could ask.

Two minutes ago Shenner had been feeling warm and secure and relaxed; now, 
  she's still warm, still securely embraced, but fear and consternation flood 
  through her system. But the way you deliver that soft question, along with 
  the question itself, make her face begin to crumple and calls up a threat of 
  tears in those big green eyes. "Wh-what kinda karkin' s-s-silly question is 
  that?" she mumbles, blushing all over again, beginning to tremble.

With said, Webb now studies your expression, showing more than a touch of 
  concern upon his own features as his arms tighten about you, and he attempts 
  to kiss you once again.

Kissing Shen certainly isn't difficult. But while she readily responds, while 
  she readily returns that gesture of affection, her answering kiss is now 
  palpably edgy and uncertain. If anything, it only makes her tremble a little 
  harder. Once she has a chance to draw in breath, she babbles out hoarsely, 
  "D-don't ya think... y-y-you're kinda jumpin' the gun here, pal? I-I mean... 
  one night... granted, one really fantastic night, b-but still... you... you 
  love me?"

Webb blinks a few times at your question, and dons the sort of expression 
  which would suggest that while saying what he might have said before could 
  very well have been near-instinctive, explaining why he said it is nowhere 
  near as easy. Finally, he ventures forth into his explanation, donning an 
  awkward smile, "I'm not talking about a marriage proposal here hon. You 
  might very well strike me as the adventurous type, but that'd be a bit 
  much..." He sighs softly and slides down a little further beneath the 
  blankets so that he's a little more eye to eye with you, "But, on the other 
  hand... I think about you a lot, especially lately. I always miss you a 
  little when I go away. I... I kinda just feel good when you're around. And 
  umm," he makes a vague, sweeping gesture towards his surroundings, before 
  draping his arm across your body once more, "To the best of my knowledge 
  neither of us really does this sort of thing on a casual basis. There's more 
  than one kinda love, hon."

The singer had closed her eyes as she kissed you; once you begin to speak, she 
  opens them again. She swallows hard as she listens to you, and something 
  small and frightened peeks out from behind her eyes as she finds herself 
  shaken by a strong wave of deja vu. "You love me but you don't _love_ me," 
  she rasps, unnerved and relieved and moved and deeply shaken all at the same 
  time. Though her voice rises a little in query on that last word, her 
  expression is not one of surprise.

"I," Webb answers in a tone of protest, as if he's worried about just how much 
  he might be digging his own grave with his words, or feeling as if he's 
  being misunderstood, "I mean that I have real affections for you Shen. 
  Otherwise I wouldn't have spent the night here with you. "

Oh dear. "It's okay," Shenner blurts swiftly, "it's okay, I just..." Just 
  what? For several heartbeats, she has to rally herself, trying to get a 
  handle on the deep-seated reactions that roiled through her at the utterance 
  of two small, simple words. It takes her some effort, effort that is 
  reflected in the subtlest little twitches in the muscles of her face. But 
  she rides those reactions through, aware of old pain within her and aware of 
  its causes... but also aware that she has no business trying to burden you 
  with them, not after you've made her a free gift of your time and your most 
  intimate self. That resolution lets her steady herself somewhat, and she 
  looks over at you then with a skewed little smile... but also with a measure 
  of the peace with which she'd beheld you upon awakening returning to her 
  eyes. "It's okay," she says again, huskily. She lifts up a hand to brush it 
  across the side of your face, from temple to jawline and back again. "You're 
  right, I... don't do this... casual." Her voice remains low and gruff, but 
  picks up conviction as she concludes, "And I care about ya, Webb... have for 
  a while now."

"Somehow... I suspected as much," answers Webb as he displays that gentle sort 
  of smile that's not the easiest thing to coax from him (although, admittedly, 
  you seem to have been having remarkably good luck with that). His brow 
  furrows for an instant, creating a look suggestive of contemplation. Several 
  seconds pass before he inquires, "Did you know that you average four freckles 
  per square centimetre upon the bridge of your nose?" with a certain 
  playfullness inherent in his tone.

Something in the back of Shenner's head -- that same little voice that had 
  been crying warning all throughout yesterday evening, and which she'd 
  unhesitantly squashed into silence -- has been regaining strength throughout 
  this conversation. It's been urging the musician to shy back, to be wary, to 
  remember what had happened with the last man who had uttered the L-word at 
  her. But now, at that jaunty question, she blinks and begins to quiver 
  again. It might take a moment or two before it might be determined that this 
  time, however, the shaking of her slender frame is caused by laughter more 
  able to be felt than heard. "Noooo," she drawls out, "I, uh, hadn't noticed 
  that..."

My, he's observant, isn't he? Drawing closer for a moment, he plants a single 
  kiss upon the bridge of your nose before he draws back just far enough for 
  him to be able to get a clear picture of your expression, rather than just 
  one specific feature of it. Perhaps that one little moment of levity seems 
  to have stripped some of the tension off of the situation for the moment. 
  For now, he seems not overly inclined to push his luck. He of all people 
  should have a fair understanding of how difficult that subject can be to 
  approach, even if he more or less blundered into it. "So," he begins to 
  inquire, "You work tonight?"

Shen nods, still wearing that awkward little grin. "Yeah," she answers, 
  meeting your gaze, perhaps unaware of the way resolution and nervousness mix 
  in her eyes, but with the former outweighing the latter. "We sing tonight, 
  rehearsal before then..."

"I'll probably come by after work to listen," he says, bobbing his head in a 
  tiny nod, before he takes on one of his more sage-like expression, "Now 
  then..." he pauses to clear his throat then continues with preposterous 
  seriousness, "Had we decided upon an agenda for this morning then?"

The thought of you coming to the Sandbar for the express purpose of hearing 
  her sing kindles a little flare of warmth in Shenner's chest. Her smile 
  flares up momentarily, but now there's shyness in those green eyes again and 
  a tinge of pink coming back into her cheeks. Clearing her throat, she 
  attempts to match that solemn tone of yours as she murmurs, "We'd, ah, 
  discussed pancakes..."

Webb ahs quietly and murmurs, "Right, now I remember," as the arm which he had 
  draped across your body earlier in the conversation proceeds to sneak back 
  beneath the covers ominously as his lips once again begin to close the space 
  remaining between them and your own lips, "We'd best get started then..."

"I got fresh raspberries in my fridge," Shen whispers before your mouth claims 
  hers, provoking rather different sorts of shudders in the slim frame still 
  cradled in your arms. And as she answers that kiss, her last thought before 
  she very deliberately gives herself over to the moment is, _It's gonna be a 
  while before we get to the pancakes...!_

[End log.]