theyralfo | [just a slip of the tongue]

This was not the direction that Anathema thought her Saturday night was going to take.

Not the part that involved having sex with Chuck. That was exactly the direction that she had predicted her night was going to. In fact, it was at that very moment, going. Rather excellently, she might add. If there was some sort of rating and review system for sexual partners, she knew that she would give her handsome Australian friend rave reviews.

The night had started in a manner that was fairly routine for them. A few drinks, a few laughs, one thing leading to another and then they had been making out on her sofa in various states of undress. There had been a break in the action as they made it to her bedroom, where they had quickly picked up where they had left off.

Quite impressively, if she did say so herself.

Her heart was pounding, a light sheen of sweat on both of their bodies as she moved her hips to match his. Her mind was blissfully blank, wrapped up in the moment as she was, a moan escaping her lips involuntarily. She did enjoy it when he hit that particular spot.

Now a blank mind can be a dangerous thing, especially for a psychic such as Anathema. Blank space wants to be filled up, often time collect bits and pieces from the heads of others to do. This was something she was used to, except this time she was caught a bit off guard. Which led to the aforementioned, unexpected direction.

Stray thoughts from Chuck were nothing knew, but the thought that had just wandered into her head definitely was not his. The voice and thoughts rather clearly belonged to someone else.

She frowned, eyes opening as she reflexively reached up to pause Chuck's motions by putting her hand over his mouth. "Who was that?" she asked, unable to get past it until her curiosity was resolved.

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There's something actually fairly refreshing about this. Chuck has never put a hell of a lot of stock into sex, mostly because, back home, it was something of a rarity. There were always plenty of people who'd line up to sleep with a Jaeger pilot, but more often than not, he was too busy to act on it, too unwilling to give himself that much of a break. Now, he has no such obligations, and also no such status, making this sort of occasion light, easy, enjoyable. He doesn't need to worry about what it means, or even think much at all, losing himself in it as he moves against Anathema, his hand hooked under her thigh, the other supporting his weight as he thrusts into her.

He's just about to lean in and kiss her again when she abruptly covers his mouth with her hand, and he nearly bites her by accident as a result. Instead, he goes still, catching himself just in time, puzzled for a moment until he realizes what she must mean. It's become fairly normal for him, having two other people's sets of memories in his head. They don't determine what he does; most of the time, he doesn't think much of it at all. The trouble, then, with not thinking is that it's easier for anything else to come to the surface and catch him off-guard, apparently at the most inopportune moments.

He really doesn't want to be thinking about his family members when he's in the middle of fucking a cute girl.

"Well, if you have to ask, then it probably wasn't me," he says, shrugging as best he can in his current position. "Which means it was one of two options, and I think I know which one it was."

This was a new and relatively weird situation for Anathema. Fortunately for Chuck, herself, and their current status and mission, new and weird were exactly the sort of thing that she liked. Perhaps a bit more than was strictly reasonable.

"Two options?" she echoed, eyebrows lifting as she dropped her hand back down to his shoulder. "Who are they?"

Mental illness was not an answer that Anathema thought to be likely. These thoughts had been a bit too fully formed and independent to be the results of a fractured mind. No, this was something else entirely. Until she had her answer, she wasn't going to be able to concentrate on anything other than having a poke about in his head.

Now that would be decidedly unsexy.

This is just about the last conversation that he wants to be having at a time like this, but Chuck supposes there's no getting away from it now. If the mood is going to be ruined, then that's already happened, and at least she doesn't seem as bothered as she probably could. He can only imagine how strange something like that must be for someone who hasn't done the sort of thing he has. Then again, reading minds has got to be strange enough on its own. Really, it serves him right for going to bed with a psychic, but how the hell could he have ever seen this coming?

"My father and my uncle," he says as nonchalantly as he can, a task that's only slightly more difficult than usual. It's been such a long time since he's talked about any of this, but it's all still normal, as far as he's concerned, something that stopped seeming bizarre years and years ago. "I've got all of both of their memories."

In Anathema's defense, she typically didn't go about advertising her psychic abilities outside of a cheekily made joke or dire necessity. Also she had never heard an objection from a bedmate about them before.

Then again, it had never come up. Definitely not like this anyways.

"Well then. That seems a bit crowded," she said without even the slightest hint of judgement in her voice. In fact she wasn't even the slightest bit unnerved, but rather wanted to go on a bit more about the specifics of it. "But it does explain the color commentary."

She smiled wickedly, moving her other hand to give his bum an affectionate pat. "I'm surprised they haven't been noisy before."

"It's not like it's a multiple personality thing or anything," Chuck says, though he's laughing a little as he does at her response. At least she doesn't seem to be too put off by it. He wouldn't have blamed her if she was. Then again, it's not like it's all that surprising, given her own far from normal attributes. That's something he appreciates, strange as it makes the combination of the two things now. Better to deal with something like this than have someone think he's crazy just in talking about the circumstances of his life before this place. "Or like it's something active or ongoing. It just came with the territory of the job. It's all buried in there somewhere."

"I didn't think it was," Anathema consoled with an easy shrug. She wasn't bothered in the slightest. Her curiosity had really been the biggest issue at hand, begging her to stop immediately and find out more. Now that she had, she had no qualms about picking up where they had left off.

Provided that everything was in working order.

If anything, this new bit of information just added to the appeal of Chuck. Being handsome was one thing, not being boring in a fantastically absurd way was wonderful. "Seems like the something they ought to warn you about. Danger: Could Get Crowded and Make the Psychic Girl Your Shagging Have Questions. Does that seem about right?"

"Yeah, that about covers it," Chuck says with a laugh, shifting his weight to one hand so he can use the other to brush a strand of hair away from her face. "Though, to be fair, I don't think we had a lot of psychics back home. Makes sense they wouldn't have thought to warn us about them." He's beginning to find that that's the way the world works, at least here. What was normal for him would be considered strange by most other people, and other people's normal is bizarre to him. He and Anathema both have something like that. It's part of why this just makes sense. "I can tell you more about it later, if you'd like, but otherwise, I'd rather not talk about my family while I'm screwing you."

"We don't have a lot of psychics back home either."

In fact, Anathema could count them on one hand and only half that truly counted. Madame Tracy was psychic-ish, in that she could do things nobody else really seemed to believe in, but the details weren't the same. Reading minds, remember the future as if it was her past, that was more her solo thing.

Though she did have to wonder what sort of odd skills Adam Young was going to grow into.

Laughing loudly and openly, her mind a little more shut than it was before she was blissfully prepared for that. "I'd like that. To know more and not have you thinking of your dad while shagging me. Still up to it?"

"Oh, I can manage," Chuck assures her with a sly, crooked grin. He may have been somewhat derailed, and in a way that, granted, does make all of this a little strange, but he's practiced in shutting out the memories in his head that belong to other people. Besides, he has a feeling that, as soon as they've stopped talking about it, Anathema will very quickly prove to be distracting enough to keep all of that at bay. That further explanation he's promised her can wait. If it hasn't been too relevant before now, then there's no reason to make too much of it at the most inopportune time possible. "You'll just have to wait a bit on the knowing more."

"Brilliant."

Anathema had every intention of following up on this conversation. At the very least over tea, more than likely a pint or three. That seemed to be the logical course of action.

"I can be very patient when I want to," she winked before adjusting slightly so that she could kiss him thoroughly on the mouth. Pulling away slightly, she smirked up at him. "But now, less patient."

"Can't say I blame you," Chuck says, returning her smirk, just a bit of a catch in his voice. Patience isn't something he has in great supply right now either, when continuing to talk about his family is only going to interfere with what they'd already started here. He can tell her all the details any other time. Of course, they could just as easily sleep together any other time, too, but he's far more interested in prioritizing that now than stories about his father and uncle. "That's enough of that."

[just a slip of the tongue]

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