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cousinslavellan-archive · 7 years ago

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Afterlife

They survived a Suicide Mission with zero casualties; as far as Shepard’s concerned, that’s cause for celebration. Especially with Aria offering up Afterlife for a night, free of charge.

Now if only she can actually fess up to a certain Turian, her night would be perfect.

Oh, and survive being poisoned, that would be nice.

Shakarian, AU, Post ME2 but before Arrival, in which Shep and Garrus have not hooked up beforehand. Minor spoilers for certain small quests in Afterlife. Fluff and smut mmm.

Happy N7 Day 2017! ♥

The rumbling bass of Afterlife pounds in the air, a tremor running through the floor with every heavy beat. The party’s in full swing - as it is every night in this particular club - and the patrons shouted and cheered, dancing and drinking and not giving a shit that their asses had just been saved yet again.

If they even knew. Probably not. They were too busy drinking and partying, having too much fun with the entertainers Aria employed - likely for that exact purpose.

Arisa watches all of this from the highest bar she could find, leaning back against it with her elbows propped on the edge, glass of whiskey nearly forgotten in her hand. She’s off duty, technically, but ever alert, knowing better then to let her guard down in a place like this.

Or ever.

One of the dancers prowls towards her, seductive smile in place and mouth already open to talk - Arisa just waves her away, eyes still on the crowd, ignoring the pout and the ‘huff’ the woman gives before she’s sticking her chin in the air and prancing away towards some other unsuspecting victim.

She’s one of the few people denying the dancers tonight, going by the nearly palpable taste of arousal in the air. It’s not something she’d have noticed, before dying; Cerberus had to have upgraded her sense of smell along with everything else. Why, she has no idea, but scents like this she can pick up on, strong enough to permeate the club, and it gets under her skin more then she’d like to admit.

Arisa grimaces and downs her whiskey in a long swallow, savoring the momentary buzz that fades almost immediately away.

Maybe Afterlife wasn’t the best idea. Fuck.

Loathe as she is to admit it, that heavy odour’s getting to her; body screaming sudden reminders that she hasn’t been laid since before the hunt for Saren, that she’d hoped to amend that fact on this trip.

But she doesn’t want a prostitute, and she’s too much of a damn coward to proposition the person she really wants.

Arisa curses under her breath, reaches out for the refill that’s slid her way, and tips her head back to swallow the burning liquor in a single shot.

She can’t get drunk - her implants and biotics make her metabolism far to efficient in cases like these, letting her feel maybe a few seconds buzz at the most - but if she lets herself be seen drinking, she can pretend she’s drunk.

Enough to fool anyone who doesn’t know her well, at least - and most of her squad, since she hadn’t exactly told anyone about her issues getting intoxicated. 'Keeping up appearances’, so to speak.

Garrus would be able to tell - and wasn’t that just the tip of the ice berg.

Can’t blame a girl for trying when the drinks are free.

And there, truly, was the main reason she’d chosen Afterlife for their post-suicide mission celebration. Not only was Omega literally right outside the safe end of the Omega 4 Relay, Aria had sent her an email sometime during their mad dash through the Collector Base.

“You’ve gotten rid of Archangel, cured the plague, and chased off the Ardat Yakshi,” Aria had written, “I owe you, and I don’t like owing you. So should you succeed in your mission, your celebration is on me. Afterlife and all of its luxuries are yours for a night, free of charge.”

Considering her squad consisted of members such as Grunt and Jack, the offer of free booze and a place to party had been too good to turn down; especially since Arisa had basically told the Illusive Man to fuck off immediately after making it back through the Relay.

So here she was. Dressed in a black tank-top, black jeans, black boots, and a cropped black leather jacket, pretending to be drunk, keeping an eye on her squad, and wishing she had the courage to attempt to seduce her best friend.

Seduce? Hah. Arisa snorts, pushing away from the bar to make her rounds, check in on her rambunctious squad, More likely I’d just ruin what we already have.

Seduce was also a bad word, she muses, spotting Jacob and Kasumi on the dance floor - the thief looking ecstatic, the biotic more politely entertained - considering she didn’t just want sex. Her feelings ran way to deep for anything between them to ever just be a one-off… which was part of why she’d always just kept her mouth shut.

If she lost Garrus because of a stupid, one-sided crush, she’d never recover from it.

Arisa pauses at the bar on the main level, grabbing another drink and watching the booth across from her for a moment - Grunt, Jack and Zaeed, shouting and laughing, a giant pile of empty drinks on the table before them - before tossing back her own liquor and continuing on her prowl.

Joker had stayed on the Normandy - safe in the cockpit with his own personal booze bottle, no doubt - and Mordin had already headed back to his clinic, wanting to check in on the happenings since he’d left.

“Just a call away, should you need any advice,” the Salarian had promised, grinning in his way, “Have sent, ah, educational vids to your omni tool! Beware chaffing! Chirality should be fine, however, no need to worry on that front.”

Which clearly meant that Mordin knew who had caught her interest, but had had the decency to not say anything to anyone else.

Samara and Miranda she catches sight of sitting in a corner, as far away from the writhing bodies on the dance floor as possible. They spot her and wave, and Arisa raises her empty glass in response.

She’s just about to head down to the lower bar - specifically, to the booth she knows Tali and Garrus are occupying - when one of Aria’s men steps into her way.

“Aria wants to see you.” is all Grizz - she thinks his name is Grizz - says, in a manner that says no arguing, and Shepard blows out a breath and nods sharply.

She happens to catch Garrus’ eye as she turns to follow - sees him pause with his drink lifted, mandibles drawn in, head tilted questioningly - and merely shrugs in response, quirking her lips as if to say who knows?

She’s out of sight before she can catch his reaction, heading up to Aria’s private balcony and approaching the Asari when beckoned.

Shepard crosses her arms, eyebrows lifted, “Aria.”

“Shepard. Just wanted to check in, see how your crew was enjoying the amenities,” Aria lays her arms along the back of her couch, one leg tucked up, looking as casually in control as she always does, “You seem to be playing mother hen, rather than relaxing.”

“My squads safety is my first concern. If they’re happy, then I’m happy.”

“I suppose promising that they’ll come to no harm while under my roof wouldn’t suffice? Would telling my dancers to leave you alone help you relax at all? Though considering you’ve rejected five of them tonight, they may start avoiding you regardless.”

That would help, yeah. “If you could, I’d appreciate it.”

“Consider it done. And do try to have a little fun, Shepard.” Aria stretches, smirking, “Find a way to blow off steam, or you’ll pop from all that tension.”

Thoughts quickly returning to a certain turian, she only nods, glad when the Asari makes a shooing motion and she’s free to retreat.

She pauses at the mid-bar for another quick drink, trying to find some sort of courage before facing Garrus. You need to at least try to say something, you damn coward.

“Siha, a moment, please.”

Annoyed as she is at being waylaid again, Arisa doesn’t mind this distraction quite as much - managing a small grin for the Drell that’s suddenly at her elbow. “Hey, Thane. Enjoying the party?”

“I have spent most of the night watching,” Thane’s voice is as steady as ever, and his response doesn’t surprise her at all, “The rest of the crew mingles, yet you make rounds. As though patrolling the perimeter.”

“In a way,” she shrugs, glancing out at the dance floor, “Habit, I guess.”

“There are no dangers lurking tonight, Shepard. You should try to relax; if anyone deserves a reprieve, it is you.” Thane pauses, gives her what she would swear is a sly look, “You need to talk to Garrus.”

Great, even Thane can tell. Arisa stifles a groan, running an agitated hand through her hair, “I know. I’m going to. Going to try to, anyways.”

“Do not let fear make you hesitate, Siha,” Thane clasps her shoulder briefly, expression serious, “Do not take the time you have for granted.”

Then he’s gone, slipped away back into the crowds, and Arisa sucks in a breath, squares her shoulders, and all but marches off towards the lower level.

She makes it all the way through the middle floor and down the stairs before staggering back in surprise when another body hits her full force, only the familiar giggling and slightly slurred exclamation of “Shepaaaaaard!” making her relax.

“Tali,” Arisa tries to sound serious and fails slightly, her own arms coming up to quickly hug and steady the quarian, “How much have you had?”

“Ohhh, you know, a few,” Tali hiccups and giggles, pulling back to beam from behind her faceplate, “I lost count at ten, honestly, and that was ages ago.”

“All Turian Brandy, I promise.” comes the flanged voice of her best friend, Garrus stepping up behind Tali with his arms crossed and an amused smirk, “I did try to get her to slow down, but…”

“You sure you weren’t feeding her alcohol, Garrus?” Arisa teases, keeping an arm around the quarian to keep her from toppling, “I think I need to cut you off now, Tali.”

“Noooo! I’m okay! I’m… well, ugh, maybe not okay, the rooms kind of spinning. That last drink was stroooooong-”

“Okay, Tali, I think it’s time to get you back to the Normandy,” Arisa hooks the quarians arm over her shoulders and shoots Garrus a look - one she hopes isn’t nearly as disappointed as she feels, but taking care of Tali comes first, “I can get her back if you want to stay, Garrus, but it’s up to you-”

“We can take her back if you want, Shep?”

Kasumi’s all feline grins when Arisa turns towards her voice, Jacob following close behind.

“You sure?”

“Positive. We were heading back, anyways.” Jacob steps up and actually picks Tali up, the quarian giving a high pitched 'weeeeee!’ as he settles her over his shoulder, “Stay and have some fun, Commander. We’ve got this.”

“Thanks. We’ll see you back on the Normandy.”

“Cheers, Shep.” Kasumi laughs, following quietly after Jacob.

There’s a chuckle to her right and she looks over to see Garrus has stepped up beside her, mandibles flared.

“Never a dull moment, huh?”

“Eh, can’t blame Tali. Why not get drunk and have fun while we can?”

“Hmm.” he seems to consider that, glancing sideways at her, “Haven’t seen you having fun, Shepard. You’ve been on patrol all night.”

Is she imagining things, or is there a miffed tone to his words?

“You know me, Garrus, gotta keep an eye on the flock. And I have been drinking.”

“Sure, but we both know your biotics burn off the alcohol long before it can actually do anything.”

“Hasn’t stopped me from trying,” she quips, almost defensively, sticking her chin in the air and heading purposely towards the nearby bar. “Besides, Afterlife isn’t my scene. It just happened to be close. And free.”

“What, Asari prostitutes not your type, Shepard?”

You’re my type.

“Fuck no. Only took me turning down five of them for Aria to step in and tell them to leave me alone.”

“Ohh, so that’s what she called you up for?”

“Partially. She also wanted to encourage me to live a little and blow off steam.” she lets that sit, stepping up to the bar and waving to the bartender, “A glass of your strongest stuff, please.”

The Batarian nods, pouring and sliding a glass her way, and she reaches for it while listening to Garrus say “Well, much as I agree with her, oddly, we’ve already established that you’re not interested in the Asari prostitutes.”

“Or Asari, in general,” she supplies, fiddling with her straw, “Or prostitutes, period.”

“That narrows the list slightly. Who else might the elusive Commander Shepard be interested in bedding?” Garrus hums, a deep, dual toned note that hits her right in the gut, “Something closer to home, maybe? Humans?”

“Meh, boring.” Arisa continues to fiddle with her glass, not yet taking a drink as she turns to face him, “Try again.”

“I sincerely hope you’re not into Krogan-”

“Nope.”

“Into exotics, huh Shepard? Well then, how about Drell?”

“Mmm, much as the dual-toned voice is sexy, it’s not the Drell I like.” she holds his gaze then, hoping the hint will be enough.

Garrus goes perfectly still for a moment, gaze intent on hers, mandibles quivering anxiously when he finally speaks, “Ah. So, then… is it a turian you’re after?”

“Bingo.” Arisa whispers, just loud enough for him to hear, before forgoing her straw and downing her drink in a quick swallow, “Now if only I knew a turian who’d be interested in someone like me.”

“I’d be interested.” Garrus growls, sending a shock of surprise and elation through her.

“Oh?” she sets her glass down on the counter almost harshly, not wanting to take her attention off of him.

“Gotta admit, Shepard, I’ve been interested since - Shepard?”

Her head is spinning suddenly, vision blurred and heart pounding in her ears, staggering as pain explodes behind her eyes.

She feels herself falling, vaguely hears Garrus’ startled “Shepard!”, and then-

Darkness.

Arisa startles awake sometime later, vision still hazy and head pounding, body trying to jolt up only to find herself held gently down, a hand on her shoulder and an almost purr rumbling above her.

“Garrus?” she croaks, feeling his other hand running through her hair, a vague sense of safety coming over her.

“You’re safe, Shepard.” he says, sub-vocals crooning, and between his voice and the gentle petting she has a hard time keeping her eyes open. “Rest awhile longer. You’ve earned it.”

She’s drifting off again even as he speaks, exhaustion giving way in the warm safety of the turians presence.

The next time she wakes her vision is steady and the headache’s gone, blinking and taking stock of her surroundings.

Turns out they were on her couch - Garrus had positioned himself sitting straight, Arisa’s head against a pillow in his lap and body stretched out comfortably.

Garrus is asleep, head tilted back and eyes closed, one hand resting gently on her stomach, the other near her head, as though he’d fallen asleep still stroking his talons through her hair.

I’d be interested, he’d said, just before she’d blacked out, and that nervous, giddy feeling returns to her stomach, the possibility of having that something more with him that she’d been craving.

Let him sleep for now. I need a shower.

Arisa carefully extracts herself from the turians grasp, laughing quietly at the annoyed mumble when she slips completely away, watching him for a moment.

He doesn’t seem to be waking up, so she pads silently up the stairs , tosses her jacket on her desk chair, and steps into the bathroom.

She strips quickly and dumps the clothes into the laundry shoot, palming the shower controls and stepping under the water with a weary sigh. The exhaustion claws at her suddenly, and she leans against the wall, closing her eyes and just enjoying the spray.

There’s a sudden ruckus from her rooms, a panicked voice calling out, and her eyes slip open in time to see Garrus standing in the doorway, looking as harried as she’s ever seen him.

Arisa doesn’t move or try to cover herself - if there’s anyone she’s okay with catching her like this, it’s him, and the way he seems to slump in relief at the sight of her does funny things to her insides - only managing a small smile and a soft “Hey, Big Guy.”

“Shepard,” Garrus rumbles, and then he’s stepping into the shower as she turns to meet him, arms going around her hips to pull her close as he bends to press his forehead to hers.

Anyone else might have taken advantage, but Garrus only holds her, a sort of rumble-purr vibrating from his chest and making her sigh, her own hands finding the soaked fabric on his shirt and holding on.

“I’m sorry.” she whispers, nuzzling at him gently.

“I panicked.” he admits, breath a warm puff against her face, “In Afterlife, and then when you weren’t in your room - I screwed up.”

“Not at all. I’m okay, aren’t I?"Arisa tilts her head back just a little, green eyes finding blue, "What happened?”

“Poison. That Batarian bartender. He’s apparently known for it.” Garrus flexes his hands on her waist, mandibles flaring, “He won’t be doing it again.”

“Did you…?” there’s no reprimand in her voice, only curiosity.

“No, someone else beat me to it. But if they hadn’t, I’d have put a bullet in his skull.” he nuzzles her again, first her cheek and then her throat, and the brief nip of his mouth plates makes her shiver, “No one gets away with poisoning my best friend.”

She laughs, hands slipping up and around, scratching just below his fringe in a way her research says turians love. Going by the way his purr strengthens, she’s apparently right. “Hopefully more than just best friends now, Garrus. Unless I’m even worse at dropping hints then I think I am.”

“Ah, no, you’re good. Message received.” he chuckles, a new heat in his eyes when he pulls back, “But with the poisoning and everything, didn’t know if you’d be up for any, ah… calibrations tonight.”

Later she may smack him for using that word. As it stands, she only smiles sweetly and tugs at his shirt, “Take your fucking clothes off, Vakarian.”

Mandibles flaring wide, Garrus releases her and does just that, leaving her to lean back against the wall and watch him work.

Turian clothing is a lot more complicated than human clothing - there’s a million little hidden snaps and layers, and it’s enthralling to watch him strip away piece by piece, dumping them in a wet heap in the corner of the room.

Arisa’s eyes sweep over him appreciatively once he’s bare, taking in all the difference that should make him alien but instead just make him Garrus. Then her gaze lands on his crotch and she smirks, glad she’d done some research; he’s still sheathed, still hidden, but the plates are definitely loose.

Neither speaks as he steps back under the water with her, hands now trailing along every piece of bared skin - down her arms and along her shoulders, pausing briefly to cup both breasts and give them a curious squeeze that has her sighing, over her waist and hips - before one hand grips her hip firmly while the other drifts down between her legs, knuckle grazing the slick wetness there.

“Garrus…” she breathes, both arms looped around his neck as he strokes her, scratching beneath his fringe as he works her with his hand.

Garrus only purrs in response, forehead once more pressed to hers, eyes glued on her face as he works - stroking, circling, finding her clit with his thumb, slipping a finger inside her and rumbling loudly at the moan that escapes her.

Arisa falls faster then she’d have expected, his name leaving her on a sigh as the tension coils and then breaks - a warm rush of feeling, enveloping her body in a wave of quiet euphoria, clinging to him as her legs quiver.

Garrus sweeps her into his arms before she can fall - pressing his mouth plates to her lips in a very human kiss, one she happily returns.

“Have I worn you out to much?” he mumbles, cocky as ever, and she only laughs and kisses him again.

“Take me to bed, Garrus.”

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