Garwa and Michael start to get to know each other much more

(This chapter originally by "Mighty Halberd")

By the time you got used to Gunna's presence on the station, the unthinkable had happened; management had noticed that the maintenance problems were starting to ramp up and actually did something about it. Of course their solution didn't include your suggestion of getting the eggheads off your back about meaningless crap so you could do your damn job, but you at least got a half dozen more bodies and a gelatinous mass to clean up the backlog and soothe your fears about the space station literally falling apart one day. You did get some lip from one of the new guys, but after he reportedly cussed out Gunna and called her a slur (reportedly getting his fingers bitten off in response), he was quickly replaced and things started settling down again.

Over the next few weeks as the job descended into its usual tedium, you realized that the station didn't feel quite so foreign and alien to you anymore. In fact, you were actually starting to enjoy it. They weren't lying when they said Omicron had one of the highest standards of living for a research station, and with your job and personal ties settled, you were starting to experience it first hand. You quickly found out that there were multiple cafeteria sections with varied menus and even an actual goddamned bar on the habitation level, as well as entertainment complexes, V-theaters, and one of the best hyper-reality video arcades you'd ever been in. You hated to admit it, but frankly...you were having a blast here. This place was pretty damn cool, and you were finally comfortable calling it home.

You even felt comfortable opening up to others. You were already friends with Brianna and the Shark Sisters (Gunna thought the nickname was adorable, Garwa tolerated it) thanks to the weird experience with the berries, but you were making more connections all the time now. You struck up a friendship with one of the new maintenance guys, a dark-haired Hispanic guy named Martin, over your mutual interest in hypersky hockey, and after a casual conversation with one of the scientists, a six-armed spiderlike alien whose name you can't really pronounce without pincers, he suggested you give a band called Aggressive Number of Eye Sockets a try. You picked up their latest album for a listen and haven't put it down since; you even got tickets to see their show in the next system over a month from now. The personal stuff though, you saved for just one person.

"Yeah, school was rough," you grunted, straining as you lifted the vent cover back into place, reaching behind you for the plasma fuser. "Wasn't like you guys with your specialized education, just plain old public school for me."

"It was customary for a long time for parents to educate their broods," Garwa recalled, reaching into her own vent to fix something. Your eyes couldn't help but drift to her lower half again; Garwa mentioned she had to get her uniform adjusted a while ago, and already it was starting to look as tight and form-hugging on her hips and thighs as the old one. Not only that, but from this angle, there was a distinctive paunch around her middle, one that gave her severe and calculated movements a slight wobble. It was definitely odd, seeing your stoic co-worker getting chubby like this, but you have to admit, it wasn't entirely unpleasant.

"Given how...lacking father's teaching had been," Garwa continued, bringing your thoughts back to the conversation. "I suppose the human method would have merits as well."

"Yeah, some parents don't make for good teachers," you admit, starting the fuse the bolts back into place. "Only thing my dad ever taught me was not to join the military. Went down with the Simon Bolivar a year before I got my cap and gown."

Garwa's re-breather hissed a little louder, which might have been a gasp. "I'm...sorry to hear that. How horrific, losing a parental figure must be, to such ****." You paused for a moment, not used to hearing Garwa sounding so...comforting? Through the re-breather and her stilted tone it was tricky to tell.

"Yeah, thanks. Even if we didn't agree on career paths...he was still a good man. I miss him." You feel tears welling up a bit and you shake them away as you resume working with the fuser. "But yeah...school kinda sucked. And don't even get me started on Senior Prom."

Gurwa lifted her own vent into place, giving you a curious look. "What is a prom? Some sort of aquatic hunt?"

"No, no, nothing like that. It's like...an event, you bring someone you're fond of to a big party."

"Ah, I see." Gurwa paused thoughtfully. "So, someone fond of. I would bring a friend, like Oork?"

"No no, not that kind of fondness," you say, snickering at the mental image of Gurwa trying to slow-dance with the large pile of slime that was your coworker. "You bring someone you have...romantic attraction to. Like a girlfriend or something."

"Oh, so I'd bring you."

"Yep," you say, not quite paying attention. A split second later, you nearly drop your fuser on your foot in shock. "H-huh?"

"Done," Gurwa declared, putting away her own fuser. "Human rituals are fascinating to opine upon aren't they? They make the tedium of this profession bearable."

"Uh-wuh..."

In any case, Martin and Oork should be finished on the third level. Shall we get started on the gravitational calibrators?"

She turns away, her plump hips shaking slightly as she strides to the other end of the room. You pick your jaw up off the floor and follow, thinking you must have misheard. Surely she couldn't be...I mean, you're friends, probably best friends, but not...THAT close, right? Thinking better of it, you take care of the calibrators and declare the start of a well-deserved lunch break. Gurwa agrees, and halfway through the meal, with you concentrating on a particularly gamey bit of steak...

"Can you tell when I'm smiling?"

You glance up from your canteen meal, food half-chewed in your mouth. "Hrm?"

"I was just curious if through the apparatus I wear, you could discern facial expressions," Garwa explained, ironically since she wasn't wearing it at the moment, removing it to quickly scarf down her own meal. Her teeth did look rather shark-like, you thought to yourself.

"I...guess so? I can kind of tell by the way you sound when you talk, now that I think about it." You take a swig of soda as Gurwa ponders this.

"Good to know," she said coolly. "Because I do smile often when you are around."

You nearly gag and descend into a coughing fit. When you look back up, Garwa is still chewing her own meal thoughtfully. Maybe you're going mad but it's almost like there's a blush on her cheeks.

"This synthetic meat...is actually tolerable," Garwa mused. "I worried it would be incompatible with carnivorous beings like myself, but I am pleased to be mistaken."

You mumble out something in agreement, too flabbergasted to remember what it was. Either you were suffering some sort of head injury, or Garwa, the most stoic and serious person you'd ever met, duty-bound and formal almost to a fault, was flirting. With you. Twice.

But...this was Garwa. The Garwa, the one who barely tolerated other people half the time. Surely she didn't have...FEELINGS for you, did she?

"Attention, attention: Gerwy please help I fell asleep in the V-theater and I'm lost," came a tinny AI voice over the intercom.

"How did she procure the automated system to...ugh, I'll be back later," Garwa said as the mess hall broke into light-hearted snickering at her sister's expense. Getting to her feet and tugging her poorly fitting uniform over her portly figure, she paused before attaching her re-breather into place, then walked over to you and...smiled. Like she had to practice it a few times granted, but she managed it.

"I...shall like see you later, Mr. Zambac."

And before you can react, she bends over and kissed you on the cheek before rushing off to deal with her sister, leaving you sputtering in shock.

"Holy shit, she likes me," you manage to mutter to no one in particular, still somewhere between blind shock and dumb panic. What are you going to do? WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO?