The Slippery Slope

Posted on Fri Jul 4th, 2025 @ 7:41am by Lieutenant JG Calanthe 'Cal' Diaz & Commander Benjamin Jamesson

Mission: Remnant
Location: Personal Quarters, Atlantis
Timeline: 409
1358 words - 2.7 OF Standard Post Measure

It had only taken a few minutes for it to feel awkward.

The last time Ben had been inside her quarters, it had been after he'd chased her down and finally got her to confess to the mess inside her head. Calanthe had been distracted then by the insistence of a reality that wasn't her own and hadn't really taken the time to consider how oddly familiar his presence felt. That in itself didn't make complete sense; these weren't the quarters he'd shared with his iteration of her, a fact made almost immediately obvious by the way his bulk filled up the space. The surroundings didn't count for nearly as much as the man's presence, however, or the countless ways Ben's over-protectiveness manifested in simple gestures. That was where the familiarity lie, especially as it tended to blur the lines between her own experience with a man gone too soon.

They had chatted easily enough on the way over, she'd almost immediately plucked an observation about the success of the current mission out of the air to carry the load whilst otherwise attempting not to dwell too much on a compounding sense of nervousness. More than anything, Cal felt the frustration of her situation having arrived at a point where she had to impose like this. Ben's reassurances, whilst sincere, didn't detract from her own sense of protectiveness. He was still grieving, that process wasn't going to move quickly. But, he was quietly stubborn to her more vivacious protests and there was no arguing with the logic of needing sleep before she made a costly mistake. Still, as she stood in the doorway to the bathroom, chewing on her bottom lip, Calanthe had struggled with competing instincts until excusing herself to brush her teeth had been the easiest solution, if only a very brief one.

Now, staring at herself in the bathroom mirror, Cal pulled a face. Just don't make it weird. Reaching into the cabinet over the sink, she pulled out the bottle Hughes had given her and frowned. The medication worked, a little too efficiently, but with Ben there to wake her up... After a moment, she replaced it with a sigh. Back-up plan. Gathering her wits, Cal finished up, thanked providence that her typical morning chaos had left her pyjama pants draped over the towel-holder, and emerged a few minutes later somewhat ready for bed.

"All yours," she offered with a smile, trying to find a place to stand that didn't obstruct the bathroom.

In the time she had gone, he had taken off his heavy flight uniform and boots, leaving himself in his shorts and vest top. He had the grace to offer her a soft smile. He hoped the smile was calm and kind and nowhere near the tension that he was feeling now that he was in her bedroom of all places. He had to keep reminding him this was the first time, this was not his Calanthe, this was not their usual nighttime routine. "Thank you." He said still smiling as he stepped inside the small space with his toiletries bag.

As far as specifics went, Calanthe had noticed that, in the past two and a half months since the last time Ben had been inside her quarters, many of the actual memories she'd inherited had faded. It wasn't an entirely accurate description, there were definitely times when she struggled parse her own experience from her alternate counterpart's, but those experiences didn't sit front and centre the way they had once attempted. It was a blessing currently because Cal was reasonably sure there were aspects of how things used to unfold in the privacy of Ben's shared quarters that would make this next part exceedingly uncomfortable. Alone with her own thoughts again for a minute, Cal frowned as she chewed on her bottom lip and then grew impatient with herself. They were both adults, and had arguable slept in far more cramped conditions when they'd napped on his couch.

Yes, but that wasn't behind a locked door.

Clambering into bed, Calanthe hesitated in choosing which side to settle on. It proved impossible to argue with the logic that had already made this decision in another time and place; expecting Ben to clamber over her if he needed to get up first was a comedy act waiting to happen. Shuffling over, she lay on her back staring up at the ceiling until movement from the bathroom prompted a very swift roll onto her side, facing the wall. Several seconds later, that felt exceptionally rude, and Cal rolled to face the room instead. She was in the process of deciding if that was more invasive when the bathroom door opened.

The man came out and offered a smile into the dimly lit room. He set his items close to the door so he could just pile them back on in the morning and leave her alone. "Happy to be on that side?" He wondered quietly trying to keep his voice low to not alert any of her neighbours but also because louder voices felt wrong in a moment like this.

With her hand propping up her head, Cal shuffled back until it was impossible to go any further and nodded, offering what was at least supposed to be a reassuring smile. "You bet, you can't shove me out of my own bed this way."

It was, at the very least, a best attempt at subverting the actual likelihood; a recollection at least that, despite his size, Ben was not the main culprit in his previous relationship guilty of blanket-theft and sleeping diagonally. It was actually a reasonably alarming consideration, given that Cal was pretty sure they'd dealt with it by process of vertical stacking. It seemed very important, suddenly, to avoid winding up asleep on top of him.

"I do not believe I have ever kicked a woman out of my bed." He assured her as he sat down on the bed and looked her over. "You still good with me being here?" He checked quietly. He did not want her to suffer in silence if she had changed her mind.

"I think I should be the one asking that. You don't have to do this," Calanthe added quietly, the lowered lighting prompting her to reduce her volume despite there being nobody else really likely to hear much. "I know, I know," she interjected, already reading the stubbornness in his expression. "Just...promise me you'll leave if it gets too much."

The man lifted the blanket and slowly got under it and turned on his side to look at her. “It won’t.” He assured her quietly. This felt coming home after a long day like it used to back in his universe, it was confusing and muddling his senses but it felt nice.

The urge to reach out and stroke the creases from his brow was strong. Calanthe resisted, not willing to push them both into uncomfortable territory, but it struck her as something to consider later that it didn't feel like the usual muddle of referred empathy. The tension Ben wore now had a different source to what his fiancee had encountered, and was definitely different to what she remembered of her Ben. The distinction was easier to make. She didn't want to assume the same was true for Ben, however.

"Sweet dreams, Commander Jamesson." Her tone was much more tender than was probably a good idea, and it was easier to close her eyes and tuck herself into the ball Cal had no hope of actually staying in rather than continued to contemplate just how close Ben suddenly was.

"Back at you, Ensign." The man said as he lay on his back and just stared up at the ceiling. He knew many ways to get his body to relax, but there and then, this close to the woman he was pretty sure he was in love with was hard work. He closed his eyes and slowed his breathing down, in and out, in and out, he breathed trying to focus on that.