Some Marvellously Uncensored Text

And this concludes what I currently have written of this one. More coming soon! My plot breakdown has everything figured out in 11 chapters, but this 'Chapter 9' occurs in Chapter 7 of The Plan, so maybe four or five chapters worth of content to go? Anyway, nothing lewd in this one, just innuendo and flirting.

Cam paced up and down the cargo hold of her ship, booted foot-falls echoing on the cross-hatch metal floor. She checked her watch again, sighed, leaned onto one of the railings, tapped her fingers, and then got up and started pacing again.

“Hello,” She heard Geoffrey's voice behind her and span on her heels. He was peering around the open cargo hold doors and carrying a bucket filled with cleaning supplies.

“Hey,” She smiled and waved him in. “Please excuse the sorry state of my ship, but y'know – the station doesn't care much for upkeep.”

“Mm,” He chuckled, setting the bucket down on the floor and pulling out a variety of bottles and cloths. “It's not as if you're doing anything dangerous like flying into a vacuum or anything. Oh, wait...”

“Yeah. I'm surprised the Powers That Be sanctioned this, even. Usually we've gotta clean our own stuff, outside of our flight hours.”

“I think the last time our team got assigned ship cleaning duty was just after I arrived on the station – a few years ago now,” He stood up with a cloth in his hand and hooked a few bottles onto his toolbelt.

“Two years and a bit,” She nodded. “I remember.”

He cast her a lingering glance, smiling, and she blushed at making it clear she knew how long he'd been on the station.

“So, uh,” Cam cleared her throat. “Is there anything I can help with?”

“Not at all,” He started spraying down the bare metal walls with detergent. “Regulation says you've got to be here, but no, you don't need to do anything. Just sit there and look pretty.”

He wasn't looking at her when he said that last bit, and good thing too, because she was blushing again. It didn't take much, where Geoffrey was concerned; especially not right now, with him cleaning her ship, just like she'd dreamed.

Well, not just like. Small mercies.

“You rushed off earlier,” He glanced at her over his shoulder. “Is everything alright?”

She hopped up onto a railing, hooked her feet behind the crossbar and balanced herself with her hands on either side.

“Oh. Yeah.” She looked out through the cargo hold doors, looked at the other ships she could see getting the same treatment as hers. “Yeah, it's fine. Sorry about that.”

“You seem to have a habit of leaving me stranded in random corridors,” He grinned at her, reaching for a brush and starting to scrub where he'd sprayed.

She laughed. “Yeah, I guess I do. I should try to spice it up a bit, maybe leave you stranded in an elevator next time, or one of the cargo bays.”

“I don't know if I could take the excitement,” He rubbed his bare forearm over his forehead. He'd pushed his sleeves up above the elbow, exposing the beginnings of the colourful stripes that ran up along his arms.

She caught herself staring and looked away.

“It's okay,” Geoffrey moved to the next panel and unhooked the spray bottle from his belt again.

“Hmm?” She arched a brow.

“I'm the only Cleckovian on the station. I don't know how many of us you've seen, but can't be many. We don't tend to get out much. You can look; it's okay.”

She felt herself getting hot under the collar. “You're the only one I've seen,” She answered his question. “I don't mean to stare though. I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“Not at all,” He reached for the brush again. “If it were any one else, I might. But you? It's fine.”

Cam smiled at him and then looked down at the floor, feeling a little self-conscious. When she looked up again he'd turned his attention back to the wall and was scrubbing intently.

“Why don't Cleckovians get out much?”

He took a beat before answering and for a moment she wasn't sure he'd heard her over the noise of the brush rubbing against the metal.

“My species are uh... Traditional,” He spoke slowly as though he were paying close attention to his choice of words. “Customs and caste and 'the way things are meant to be'. Space travel is a new concept to us. Leaving your position to fly off into space is uh... Well, it's not done.”

He was frowning when he looked over at her between swapping the brush for the spray again. He crossed over to her side of the cargo bay and started spraying down the far panel.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry.”

“You're not,” He said, focusing intently on the wall. “It's just... A difficult subject for me to talk about. Personal. Not that I don't want to tell you,” His fiery eyes flicked over at her briefly. “I do. But it's difficult.”

She gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “Okay.”

“What about you? Your people, space travel?”

“Oh, I'm a bit of a nomad,” She chuckled. “My parents were traders. Travelled everywhere. When I was old enough, I set off on my own to uh, forge my own path. Didn't get very far,” She gestured at the ship, “as you can see.”

“You didn't want to become a trader too?” He moved to the panel right next to where she was sitting. The subtle muskiness of his aroma carried through the sharp smell of disinfectant, and she inhaled, slowly but deliberately, taking it in.

“Nah. My parents were... Not entirely honest. I don't have that in me, that ability to con people. Just can't do it.”

“That's not a bad thing,” He smiled at her. “How did you end up here?”

“Oh, well...” She drummed her fingers on the railing and sighed. “It's the trash. I... kinda hate it. I was down on Sigma 304 working, and looking up at this sky filled with junk every day... I just couldn't.”

“You're here to help clean space?”

“Yeah,” She shrugged. “I know I'm just one of however many people doing this job. I know if I quit, someone else would take my place and do the same thing. But I can't. It just irritates me so much, and I have to do something. You know? Get my hands dirty. There are so many people down on that planet who complain and complain all day about the state the sky is in but not a single one of them cares enough to do something about it.”

“You did,” He'd stopped cleaning and was standing next to her listening intently.

“Ah, but I'm not from Sigma 304. I didn't grow up in a luxury space colony with beautiful views and luxury commodities and billboards everywhere telling everyone to spend, spend, spend. You'd think they'd care more, considering they grew up there, that it's their precious sky being sullied.”

Geoffrey sighed quietly. “But they don't. They just make the mess; they don't want to clean it up.”

“Exactly,” She looked down and saw his hand resting on the railing next to hers. “Not that they're the only ones to blame. They're just the ones being spoonfed that lifestyle, being told from every angle to mindlessly consume.”

“You're more than you let on,” He said after a moment, narrowing his eyes at her.

She chuckled and hopped off the railing, turning around to drape her forearms over it instead, facing him. “Yeah? Well now I'm curious. What did you peg me as?”

He leaned over the railing likewise, just inches away from her. “Hmm. What do you call those buttery pastry things shaped like crescent moons that they serve at the canteen in the mornings?”

“Croissants?” She arched a quizzical brow.

“Yes! Croissants. I thought you were like a croissant. They look substantial, but the really good ones, they're delicious but there's a lot of air inside.”

She guffawed. “Well gee, thanks.”

“But you're not a croissant,” He hurriedly continued “As I am quickly learning.”

“So what am I, if not a croissant?”

“Hmm, let me think. Ah! A fruit pie.”

“A fruit pie. Hmm. Alright, explain that one to me.”

They were so close that the fabric of her jacket was touching his forearm, and when he gestured with his hands she could feel the movement through the cloth. Her heart started beating a little faster. She dared not look at him, knowing how close he'd be, but she felt rude not meeting his eyes – they were having a conversation, after all. She glanced up at him, found that his eyes were sparkling with something akin to mischief, that the corners of his wide reptilian mouth were curved upwards into a little smile.

“I um... Well,” He looked up and across to the other side of the ship, and then down at the floor, smiling a little wider. “Sweet, wholesome, and filled with a variety of delicious things.”

“Huh,” She could hardly contain the wide grin that was tugging at her lips.

“I'd have said a sausage, given your penchant for them, but... No, not colourful enough.”

“Fruit pie,” She mulled it over. “Yeah, I think I can live with that. Spacegal Fruitpie.”

He laughed. “A solid nickname.”

“Now we just need a nickname for you.”

“You mean aside from Geoffrey?” He quirked a brow at her and turned back to the job at hand, spraying down the next panel.

“Geoffrey's a nickname?”

“Of course,” He chuckled. “Do I look like a Geoffrey?”

“Now that I think about it, yeah, not so much,” She laughed. “So what's your real name?”

He turned back to her, curling his hands around the railings and bracing himself with straight forearms. He took a breath, and then reeled off a complex combination of guttural growls and lyrical trills the like of which she'd never heard before. Her eyes widened.

“That's your name?!” She gawked at him.

“Indeed.” The mischief was gone from his eyes now, and he was back to his slightly bashful normal demeanour. “That is why people began calling me Geoffrey. The Clackovian language is unpronounceable to most non-reptilian species, and even to a few reptilian.”

“Damn,” She was still staring at him wide-eyed. “That was one of the most beautiful things I've ever heard.”

​ His eyes burned into hers, which utterly ruined her ability to not think about that dream and that fantasy and he was right here cleaning her ship and her cheeks caught fire again. Geoffrey looked down at the rosy glow, frowned, cleared his throat and stepped back, turning his ministrations to her bulkhead once again.

​ Cam scowled, heart thumping in her chest, and took a deep breath.

​ “Okay, in an effort to avoid another tragic misunderstanding, what just happened? You’ve done that before, just suddenly turned away from me. Did I do something?”

Geoffrey sighed and stood, stuffing the cleaning cloth through his belt. He fixed his eyes on the floor and she saw his pupils flicking between two panels of grating, his talons curling and uncurling.

“It’s... Silly,” he peeked aside at her and then looked at the floor again.

“Well it just so happens that I love silly.” Cam leaned back against the railing. “Lay it on me.”

“Very well. My species have many patterns and colourations that can occur in myriad combinations, some prolific and common, some more rare... But the rarest of all is a red colouration beneath our eyes. This is not true of all cultures, but the culture of my people specifically, when the red colouration appears, it is said to be a manifestation of the divine.”

His tail was perfectly still and he still stared intently at the floor as if he could stare through the metal by sheer force of will alone.

“Oh.” Cam digested his words. “When I blush, you... You think I’m... ‘manifesting the divine’?”

“No, gosh, no!” He looked up at her and away again, and then back at her, indecisive. “No, it just... it reminds me. I didn’t believe in all that anyway, that’s part of the reason I...” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “I don’t think you’re... It’s just...” He shuffled.

This conversation was clearly making him uncomfortable, and suddenly she felt bad for forcing him to address it and making him feel so awkward.

“Hey.” She put her hand on his arm briefly. “Don’t worry about it. I shouldn’t have-”

“You’re beautiful!” He cut her off, turning to face her fully, his eyes locking on hers again, and making her blush, again. Her skin would be great after this. “You’re beautiful and when you blush it makes me think that maybe you are divine. Not our gods; Clackovian gods are brutal and angsty and vicious – no, something else, something befitting how soft, and gentle, and lovely, you are.”

She stared at him – no, she gawked at him, terribly aware of how wide her eyes were, and how her mouth refused to close, and gosh, he was so close she could see the individual scales on his chest where he had those top few buttons of his overalls undone, and -

Something beeped loudly and made them both jump.

It was her shift alarm.

“Shit. Geoffrey, I-”

“I’ll see you later,” Geoffrey gathered his things, “if you like. I’ll be in my quarters. When your shift is over. If you like.”

“I like,” she mumbled, and then cleared her throat. “I like. Yes – I mean -”

Geoffrey curled a delicious little smile at her, and then stalked off along the cargo bay and down the ramp and was gone, leaving her standing there, still gawking, still blushing.

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Thank you for reading! If you liked it, let me know at WelshPixie <3