Intersteller Cohabitation for Dummies
Copyright© 2025 by Megumi Kashuahara
Chapter 2: Let’s Go!
The Scent of Success
Marcus woke up Saturday morning to two things: the smell of bacon, and the slowly dawning realization that his life had become very complicated very quickly.
He stumbled out of bed, still half-asleep, following his nose toward the kitchen like a cartoon character floating on scent waves. Coffee. Definitely coffee. And bacon. Possibly eggs?
What he found when he rounded the corner made him stop so fast, he nearly tripped over his own feet.
Vera was at the stove.
Wearing his shirt.
Not one of HER shirts. Not a borrowed shirt that fit properly. HIS shirt. The button-down he’d worn yesterday. The one he’d tossed in the hamper last night.
On him, it was a normal shirt.
On her, it was a dress. Sort of. If dresses stopped at millimeters below her translucent thong. and you could technically call something a dress when it kept threatening to slide off and expose everything.
The sleeves hung past her hands. The shoulders were so oversized that one had already slipped down, exposing a delicate collarbone and forty percent if a lovely teardrop-shaped breast, only this time showing the upper part of her pastel pink areola. Her hair tumbled over the collar, messy from sleep. And when she reached up to grab a plate from the cabinet— triangle of pure delight!
Marcus looked at the ceiling. Studied the ceiling. The ceiling was very interesting. The ceiling had a small crack in it he’d never noticed before.
“Good morning!” Vera chirped, turning around with a plate of bacon. The shirt shifted. Marcus maintained intense eye contact with that crack in the ceiling.
“Morning,” he managed. “Is that ... is that my shirt?”
“Yes!” She set the plate down and did a little turn, making the shirt flare slightly. “I found it in the basket. It smells like you! I really like the ‘you’ vibe.”
“The ... the ‘me’ vibe?”
“Mmhmm!” She reached for the coffee pot. The shirt rode up. Marcus discovered a new fascinating spot on the ceiling. “It’s very comforting. And it’s so big and cozy! Do you mind?”
Did he mind?
His brain was currently experiencing a complete system failure trying to process:
1. The shape of her legs
2. The fact that his shirt kept slipping
3. Whether she was wearing anything UNDER his shirt
4. That ceiling crack, which was VERY IMPORTANT right now
“No! No, it’s ... fine. Totally fine. Cultural thing, right?”
“Right,” Vera said, a smile playing at her lips. “Cultural.”
She handed him a cup of coffee. Their fingers brushed. Her ears perked forward. Her tail did a happy swish that made the shirt shift again.
Marcus retreated to the table with his coffee like it was a life preserver.
“I made breakfast!” Vera announced, bringing over plates loaded with bacon, eggs, and toast. She sat down across from him, tucking one leg under herself in a way that made Marcus very interested in his eggs suddenly.
“This is great,” he said, focusing on his food with laser precision. “You didn’t have to—”
“I wanted to!” Her tail swished behind her. “You’ve been so kind, letting me stay here. Setting up my nest. Letting me watch boxing with you...” Her voice dropped slightly. “Petting my tail.”
Marcus’s fork paused halfway to his mouth. “Oh, uh, sorry if that was—”
“No! No, it was...” She leaned forward slightly. The shirt gaped. Marcus found his eggs FASCINATING. “It was very nice. You can do it anytime.”
“Cool. Cool cool cool. That’s ... good.”
They ate in silence for a moment, during which Marcus’s brain tried desperately to regain basic function while Vera looked extremely pleased with herself.
After breakfast, Marcus discovered something on the kitchen counter.
A smooth, blue-grey stone. Perfectly polished. Pretty.
“Oh!” Vera appeared at his elbow, still in his shirt. “Do you like it? I found it yesterday during my walk.”
“It’s nice,” Marcus said, turning it over in his palm. “Where’d you find it?”
“By the river. I saw it and thought of you.” Her ears tilted forward. “Will you keep it?”
There was something in her voice—an eagerness, a hope—that made saying no impossible.
“Yeah, of course. Thanks, Vera.”
Her entire face lit up. Her tail started wagging so hard it was a blur. She bounced on her toes slightly, which made several very interesting things happen with his shirt, pencil sharp nopples drawing sqtiggly lines up and down, and Marcus quickly turned to add the stone to his growing collection on the bookshelf.
Four stones, two feathers, a bottle cap, and a piece of driftwood.
His friend Jake was definitely going to make fun of him for this.
Speaking of Jake.
“Dude,” Jake said over the phone later that afternoon while Vera was in the shower—still in Marcus’s shirt, apparently, which she’d taken WITH her—”you need to describe this situation to me again.”
“There’s nothing TO describe,” Marcus said, pacing his living room. “She’s nice. She’s settling in. She’s a little ... quirky.”
“Quirky how?”
“She keeps giving me stuff. Rocks. Feathers. She made a nest in my living room.”
“A nest.”
“Like a pile of blankets and pillows. She says the ‘energy’ is better there.”
“Uh-huh. And what does she look like?”
Marcus paused. “Why does that matter?”
“Just answer the question.”
“She’s ... attractive. I guess. Fox ears, fox tail, orange hair—”
“How attractive?”
“I don’t know, man! She’s pretty ... alright, she’s fucking gorgeous and driving me insane, okay? She’s got these golden eyes and freckles and—”
“And you’re living with her.”
“As ROOMMATES.”
“Sure, buddy. Hey, if it’s JUST a roommate situation and you’re not interested, maybe I could—”
“NO!”
The word came out sharper than Marcus intended. There was a pause on the line.
“Interesting,” Jake said, and Marcus could hear the smirk in his voice.
“It’s not like that. It would just be ... weird. For the program.”
“Right. The program. Of course.” Jake laughed. “Look, man, I’m just saying—I would PAY to have a roommate situation like yours.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing! Nothing at all. Hey, I gotta go. Have fun with your completely normal, totally platonic roommate situation.”
Jake hung up before Marcus could respond.
Marcus stood there, phone in hand, trying to figure out why that conversation left him feeling oddly territorial.
From the bathroom, he heard the shower shut off.
He deliberately did NOT think about Vera in his shower, probably still wearing his shirt, which was now wet—
Nope. Not thinking about it.
He was going to go to his room and talk to Martha, and her four sisters.
Sunday morning, Vera suggested they go grocery shopping.
“We need food,” she said reasonably, wearing a different outfit today—jean shorts (still incredibly short) and a fitted t-shirt that Marcus suspected might also be his, stretched in ways that his chest definitely didn’t stretch it. “And I want to see more of Earth! Can we go together?”
Marcus, who had been planning to order delivery for the rest of his life, found himself saying, “Yeah, sure.”
Which is how he ended up at the supermarket on a Sunday morning with a fox-girl who apparently had no concept of personal space.
It started innocently enough. They grabbed a cart. Started down the produce aisle. Vera was fascinated by everything, picking up vegetables and asking questions. Her tail swished as she examined an eggplant with intense focus.
“What is this purple thing?”
“Eggplant.”
“Is it an egg or a plant?”
“It’s ... both? Neither? It’s complicated.”
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