I start to work on my latest story just to pass the time. The keys are clacking rapidly as I find my rhythm, and I'm concentrating on only this. It's part of what has kept me sane: my ability to lose myself in writing and ignore all else. The doorbell peals, and my mind freefalls into consciousness. I look around. Asmara and T are nowhere to found and the steady stream of curses lets me know Raj is still doing dishes. I heave myself up, having locked my joints into the pretzel-like position in which I normally write. I'm curious as to who's arrived, and I peek out the blinds only to see a smirking Spike-alike wearing black leather wrist cuffs and matching pants. Charley has arrived.

I grin in excitement because I've been waiting to greet Charley properly for some time now. He stands outside, leaning negligently against the door frame, a slow smile spreading across his handsome face as I open the door. "Hey sailor, looking for a welcome port?" I tease.

If possible, his grin deepens, and those incredibly sexy cheekbones become more prominent. "I don't think the phrase 'any port in a storm applies here'."

"Why not?" I ask, noting the dangerous gleam in his eyes.

"Because you are definitely the storm," he replies quickly, reaching out to yank me towards him. His mouth immediately claims mine, and I feel drugged with the intensity of his kiss. When he lets me go, I sway slightly, giving him a silly grin that obviously pleases him.

"Uh, I can show you where to put your stuff," I remark, trying to settle the world back into its normal place.

"Oh, I think I'm pretty clear on where that is already," he shoots back, giving me another heated look.

I'm in for it now, I think. "I meant where to put your bags," I reply, trying not to blush under his gaze.

He snickers, and I blush. "Well, in that case, cutie, lead on. I've heard the spare rooms are quite the set up here. I want the whole tour," he leers.

I feel uncharacteristically flustered as he grabs my hand and holds it while we head for the guest rooms. He eyes the door to the master bedroom, a pair of familiar burgundy silk sheets donning the bed in preparation. T had put them on the minute I won, his smirk telling me he knew who was King of the Roost here.

"That the den of inequity we just passed?" he asks.
I nod, fighting off the urge to blush. For some reason, he's making me feel like a little girl with a crush, and I attribute it to the ever convenient lack of sex excuse. We reach the guest room, and he walks in, amazed at the size. Each bed has its own sheets and comforter, and some different paraphernalia on the stands next to it. Several new ones are bare, with plain white sheets, their occupants having not decorated their place yet.

"Wow. Who do these belong to?" he asks, scanning the room quickly.

"Well, Seth's the one with the blue down comforter. And the one with the paddle on the nightstand is Fangy's. That one with black satin was Raj's until he became mine. Peirce has the TA poster over his. Loki's is the one with film containers on the bed."

"Ah, but the question, how often do they actually sleep in these beds?" he smirks.

I shrug, giving him a mysterious smile. "Just depends on their mood…and mine."

"So what's your mood like today?" he says advancing on me until I bump against one of the empty beds.

"Uh, well, I…"

"Trouble said I can have sheets with moons and stars," Asmara says excitedly as she skips into the room. "They'll talk to me while I sleep."

Charley sighs heavily, his lips centimeters from mine. He smirks at my knowingly, his eyes holding promise of what's to come, and takes my hand again. We turn to face Trouble, who's lounging against the doorframe in a manner much like Charley had. His face, however, is set in a mischievous grin. Charley rolls his eyes at him, and he just shrugs.

I clear my throat quickly, before the testosterone in the room strangles me. "Well, of course you can have moon and star sheets, Asmara. We'll buy some tomorrow morning. And I think you, Charley, should head for the computer with me and let Fen know you're here okay."

T laughs at my assertive posturing, knowing that normally I thrive on chaos in our odd little household. But then he also knows my current state of mind. It's a Catch-22 of sorts, and my housemates have definitely been exploiting it.

I grab Charley's hand, and then Asmara's, tossing T a wry grin and head for the computer desk. I've got some chatting to do.