#please laugh garrus she worked so hard on the joke

[solspectre]

" Uh-huh. Sure, if you say so." it's obvious how she doesn't buy it for a second but with little to no evidence to go on– or even a proper clue– she has no choice but to let it go. it doesn't bother her in the slightest though. work oriented as she could be, shepard knows when to focus on simply having a good time.

" So, is this some sort of game? Try to spot the ice-sculpture that looks like a rachni before the clock strikes twelve or something?" she snorts at her own joke as they walk along, glancing between the various sculptures that dot the crystal building past the snacks.

" hm. " finishing up his own, garrus ponders the empty cup for a moment; he can't help but wonder where humans got the idea to shave some ice and pour some flavoured syrup on top for consumption. he'd never thought of ice as particularly appetizing--- more of a tripping hazard, really.

still, no matter what he thought of it, it was worth the time and money it took to will away the headaches just to see her enjoy herself for once.

" who, me? planning something? no idea what you're talking about. " he dismisses her suspicions with a sly lilt to his tone, disposing of their trash before returning to her side, " maybe i just like the company. "

[bagog]

for the reverse trope writing prompt: instead of fake dating, everyone is convinced that you aren't actually dating, with mshenko?

Lol! Fun, okay, here goes:

++

Traynor was about to buzz the door of the Loft when its holo turned green and the door suddenly opened.

"Oh, Major!" Traynor stepped back, Kaidan jolted at the sight of her.

"Hi, uh... hi Specialist." His eyes flicked awkwardly between the Traynor and the lift, and he scootched forward so the Loft door shut behind him.

"Just giving your briefing to Commander Shepard, I suppose?" Traynor drummed her fingers idly on the data-pad she was carrying. "Just updating him on the situation with the evacuation on Gellix."

"Um, no, I... Shepard and I just had a little time between shifts."

"Hmm," Traynor tilted her head, "Alright then!" Kaidan's brow furrowed, but he stepped quickly to the lift and descended. Traynor barely gave a shrug before buzzing the comms. ~~

A few days later, docked at the Citadel, Kaidan had split a cab with Joker and EDI to some shops around the Presidium. They both seemed to be headed to the same store though.

"Welcome to Melvail's Hobbies and Gifts and Rites and Rituals!" exclaimed a holo VI of the eponymous salarian upon their entry. "I'm sorry Melvail is not melvailable today! I hope I can help with any of your questions! Please melvail yourself of the kiosk to make any purchases! We cannot currently offer access to our behind-the-counter rites and hobbies, please come another time!"

"Beckley says this is the best place on the Citadel for dice, never said I could get baptized here, too." Joker leaned against the counter, stared down into the glass case where a hologram of Krogan fertility idol spun slowly in the air.

Kaidan walked up to the kiosk and began flipping through the listings. The idol hologram shifted into a model of a quarian live-ship.

"Yes!" Kaidan pumped his fist at his side. "They still have one!"

"Picking up a new hobby, or buying for someone special?"

"The latter," Kaidan said after a pause. "Shepard had this model before his arrest, but they don't make it anymore."

"You know you don't have to buy your CO presents? Especially when you outrank him."

"I'm not... He's not my..." Kaidan pinched the bridge of his nose. "Just wanted to do something special. I'm meeting him for lunch later, it's our first time back on the Citadel since we started dating."

"Dating what?"

"...what?"

"What are the two of you dating?"

"Like dating rocks!? No! We're.... dating, we're going out."

"Pfffffffft," Joker sputtered, terminating in a laugh. "Pretty good one, Major."

"I'm not joking."

"Jeff," EDI touched Joker's shoulder lightly. "I believe Kaidan is employing an idiom to express that he and Commander Shepard are working together in their capacity as Spectres."

"No, I'm not doing that," Kaidan angrily punched at the buttons to purchase the model. "We're... seeing each other. We are engaged in a relationship." When he turned to his silent friends, they both blinked at him, listless.

"I don't get it." Joker said at last.

~~ The next day, Shepard and Kaidan sat across from one another in the mess. "I'm just saying," Kaidan spoke in a hushed tone. "I was nervous about the crew finding out, but now I'm frustrated nobody seems to get it."

"I know what you mean," Shepard spoke quietly in reply. "I told James we were dating at poker the other night and he thought I was trying to push our something." Kaidan sipped at his coffee, eyebrows still furrowed over the rim.

"Last week, while we were assisting with that evac, I was talking to Garrus and it kind of slipped out that you and I are "a thing." He goes 'Just because everyone says you're the ass-wiping hand of the Council doesn't mean you're a 'thing,' Kaidan.'"

Shepard shook his head. "I don't know. I'm a likeable guy, I've got likeable qualities. Some might call me a catch! What's so hard to believe a guy like me could be going out with a guy like you?"

Kaidan chuckled, patted Shepard's arm and left his hand there a moment. "Hey! It's not an us thing! They've all got pigeon brain or something."

Greg Adams happened to notice them out of the corner of his eye as he rounded the bulkhead. With a nod and a whistle, he stepped up to the table.

"Commander, Major. Was just coming looking for you, Commander. And Major, just passed someone who was looking for you. Lucky I ran into both of you at once!" His eyes drifted down just for a second at where Kaidan's hand rested on Shepard's arm.

Shepard cleared his throat. "That's great, I was just getting a little morning pep-talk from my boyfriend."

Greg nodded understandingly. "Glad you're getting comms through, still, that has to be a real relief for him to get messages from you letting him know you're alright."

"No, I'm his boyfriend, Greg." Kaidan patted Shepard's arm. Greg scrunched up his face.

"For what?"

"For--what do you mean 'for what'? I love Shepard. I am in love with Shepard." He froze as soon as the words were out of his mouth, but Adams showed no sign of comprehension.

Just then, the hatch to Liara's office opened. She stepped out and looked directly at Adams.

"Oh Chief Adams, I wanted to talk to you about the power coupling outside my office, do you have a moment?"

Adams nodded and went immediately to take a panel off the wall at Liara's prompting.

"So..." Shepard said, practically under his breath. "You... love me? You're in love with me?"

Kaidan swallowed, a shy smile playing at his lips. "Yeah, I guess I do."

Over at the panel, Liara and Adams were talking indistinctly. When Adams motioned over his shoulder at the table, Liara said something that involved clasping her hands together. Adams whirled around to look at Shepard and Kaidan in wonder, then immediately turned around in embarrassment.

Over Greg's shoulder, Kaidan caught Liara quirking him a significant look. He chuckled, "Can always count on the Shadow Broker."

By the end of the day "Kaidan and Shepard are together" was a secret everyone on board thought they were keeping to themselves.

++

That ended up being... less disbelieving in a relationship than just... no one understanding, but I hope it was at least a little fun. Maybe I'll have to give it another go later on. Thanks again!

[serendipitys-teapot]

Snippet Sunday

Thank you for tagging me, @wonderingaround1980! Am I supposed to wait for Sunday to do this? I don't know, I'm new and stupid so the rules don't apply to me, right? 🙃

I'm sure some of you guys have already been tagged, but I'll invite @kalliesa, @westernlarch, and @dispatchwithlove to participate if you guys would like!

This isn't the next chapter in my fic Loyalty and Limerence, but it's one that's coming up soon. I've shared a line or two with some folks before I think, but here's some context for that joke!

“Is our current situation an emergency?” Garrus didn’t know what the geth equivalent of a raised brow was. Maybe it was moving around those little flaps around its light? It was hard to tell over the comm. “A geth meddling with our computers, telling me how to do my job?” He scoffed as he struggled not to laugh, “Nah, I can’t imagine that would qualify.” “Stop teasing it.” Garrus spun to see Jane leaning against the door frame, her arms crossed and an amused look on her face. She pushed off and stepped into the room, and he smiled. “They still don’t understand sarcasm very well, despite my best efforts. EDI, however, is coming along nicely.” “Thank you, Jane.” They both jumped at the AI’s sudden interruption, “I have sectioned off a portion of my processing power to be devoted to learning organic mannerisms, and I am pleased to report that it has only reduced the capabilities of the Normandy’s weapons suite by .28 percent.” The statement was delivered with such sweet, innocent self-congratulation that it took a moment to sink it before hitting Garrus over the head like a brick. “W-wait a moment! EDI, you can’t be serious!” He stammered, indignant outrage battling with math calculations for space in his brain as his eyes widened. “I work on these calibrations every goddamn day, and you’re telling me that you’ve been-” “That was a joke.” EDI cut in before he could continue, her voice flat in the manner of someone containing their amusement a little too well. The room was silent for a moment before Jane burst out laughing. Garrus stood there, dumbfounded as his mandibles flicked absently, embarrassment washing over him as his anger quickly evaporated. “So, our weapons capability is still-?” “I would never do anything to intentionally endanger the Normandy or the lives of the crew, Garrus.”

[xfandomwritingsx]

Being Human - James Vega/F!Shepard

Description: James and Shepard finally stop dancing around each other. AKA; a rewrite of the Citadel DLC.

Warnings/Labels: None really. Some super minor sexual stuff.

Approx. Word Count: 4,500

A/N: Look... this is at best a rough draft that I typed up and didn’t edit, but I will forever be bitter about how they made the Citadel play out with these two. And while I know it won't happen, I really wish they'd fix it in the remaster. I mean if you're going to remaster the games, that sounds like a damn good time to fix anything inappropriate and rape-y right?! I would love to do a whole slow burn of Shepard and Vega spanning from Earth to the end of the game, but if you know me, you know I'm SLOW AS MOLASSES to update and I'm not lying when I say it would take me years to finish. So instead... have a poorly written snippet. I tried to keep it as much in “canon character” as I could. 

Shepard stands on the balcony of her new apartment, mind gently jogging around the events of the last few days which bleeds into the events of the last few years. Resting her arms on the metal railing, she drops her head and sighs, trying to pull herself from the black hole that is her memory anymore. She wants to let it all go, just for a night.

“Hey, Lola,” James calls, pulling her back to the present. She looks up briefly wondering how long he’d been there before she sees the door closing behind him. How had she not heard it? “Nice place,” he comments, looking around the open layout. “Might not look so nice after that party you were talking about.” He walks further in, headed for the stairs to join her on the balcony.

“You wouldn’t trash my new apartment, would you James?” she jokes lightly, pushing herself upright off the railing.

“Me?” He spins a little, keeping his eyes on her as he continued to travel backwards to the stairs. “Nooo. Never,” he draws it out, the sarcasm a little thick. Shepard rolls her eyes at him, but he sees the little smile at the corner of her lips too.

James has always had that effect on her. No matter what dumb thing came out of his mouth, he managed to make her smile. It was something she’d craved over the last few months more than ever. While everyone else gave her pep talks that only managed to remind her how much the galaxy rested on her shoulders, James was more likely to tell her that her pants hugged her curves just right. He let her forget about being Commander Shepard even if for just a few moments.

He whistles as he approaches her side, looking out over the balcony with her.

“Nice view. But this place?” He shakes his head just slightly. “It’s just so... not what I’m used to.” He gives a small shrug, still looking out over the scenery and the lights outside the large windows.

“Which is?” Shepard prods. They don't talk about their pasts very often. Everyone already knew hers and James was never extremely open about his own. He puts his hands on the railing and leans into his arms a little.

“I grew up on the beach in the Pacific,” he shares. “So, you know; water, sand, real air.” She thinks there’s a hint of bitterness in his voice.

“You miss it?” He doesn’t look at her this time and instead she watches as he loosens his grip on the rail a little bit and sighs.

“Yeah. And the people.” She catches the undertone, the longing that implies he’s thinking of someone specific when he says it.

“So, what’s her name?” she asks. She means it to be teasing, but there’s an unexpected pang in her gut that feels all too much like jealousy for her liking and it ruins the lighthearted joke in her voice. She shifts her weight a little and slips a hand into the pocket of her pants.

“No! No.” he clarifies through a bark of a laugh, easing her tension a little. “I stopped... fraternizing when I joined the military. The two don’t seem to go well together.”

“Hasn’t stopped you from being a shameless flirt.” It had taken a short amount of time after they’d first met on Earth for him to relax around her and once he did, the comments, the winks, the innuendos and double entendres never ceased. The only thing he never seemed to do, was be physical with his flirting. He’d never so much as run a hand down her arm or let his hands linger when they sparred. Though Shepard had found herself wishing he would recently.

“Yeah, well... that’s just my way. I don’t mean anything by it.” There’s something in the way that he still won’t look at her that makes her think maybe that’s not all true.

“Too bad.” She drops her tone a little and takes a step towards him. “I wasn’t complaining.” He cracks a smile and lets out another short laugh.

“Who’s the shameless flirt now?” He gives her a single glance and then looks back down to his hands on the railing.

“So you can give it, but you can’t take it?” The flirting had never been completely one sided, but it certainly came heavier from him and it wasn’t uncommon for him to get a little flustered when she returned it.

“No, it’s just...” He releases the railing and pushes away, adding a little distance between the two. “You’re my commander, por dios. I can never tell if you’re yanking my chain.” He looks at her, really looks at her this time and the mood shifts. The air gets thicker, heavier and it feels like an opportunity, one she doesn’t want to slip away again.

“And what if I’m not?” she asks, voice dipping down again. “Not just yanking your chain?” James swallows thickly and there’s a mumble of a noise from his lips, but he doesn’t give a response. Instead, she’s pleased to watch as his eyes travel down from her eyes to her lips, down her neck and through the valley between her breasts that he can see all too well in her black tank top. “Are you going to tell me you’ve never thought about it?”

“Uhhh… I mean you’re one hell of a woman and I’m still just flesh and blood, if you know what I mean.” She can see a bit of redness creep up his neck and Shepard wonders if the implication is just that his body reacts to her or if he’s actually done something about it when his body reacts.

“So am I, James. And you are one hell of a man yourself.” She slips in front of him, putting herself between himself and the railing, all but begging him to pin her there. He makes no move to do so however. Instead, his eyes drop down to their feet and Shepard feels like she’s sinking. “But you’re not interested.” She leans back into the railing, wanting to retreat. James snaps his eyes back to hers and his mouth flops for a few moments as if he’s going to say something, but after a minute of silence, Shepard gives up. She slinks away off to the side and as far away as she can get without feeling too awkward. “Well, now that you’ve shot me down, was there anything else you came here to talk about?”

“Uhhh, yeah,” he stutters, shaking his head. She feels a little bad to have put him on the spot, but she’s just as embarrassed as he is. “I wanted to show you something.”

He turns away from her and pulls his shirt over his head. It takes Shepard longer than she should admit to notice he’s not just showing off the well-toned muscles in his back and shoulders, but trying to show her the new and finished N7 tattoo. He looks at her over his shoulder.

“What do you think?”

“Looks good,” she says honestly. “You’ve earned it.” She sees him smile a little at her approval. She crosses her arms over her chest and tries to lighten her tone. “Though I think it’s a little mean to flaunt yourself to the woman you just turned down.” He chuckles, taking her teasing easily.

“Here I was thought I was being nice giving you at least a little something,” he jokes back before turning to face her, shirt still in his hand. “Thought you liked the show.” She rolls her eyes, but even after him turning her down, the flirting still makes her feel better. “Anyways... Just wanted to show you that bad boy.” He slips his shirt back over his head and she resists the small urge to tell him to keep it off. “I gotta get back to the Normandy,” he says. “Esteban wants my help working on the shuttle.” Shepard shuffles her feet for a moment and then sticks out her hand towards him.

“Thanks for coming by, James.” She uses a formal voice, hoping the gesture and tone will clearly communicate a no hard feelings vibe. He reaches out and takes her hand. The handshake lasts for less than a second before he brings her hand up into a fist grab and pulls her closer. He locks her eyes with his and that tension rises again.

“Lola,” he whispers. “I’m not not interested.” She loosens her grip in his, going from firm comradery to something softer. “It’s just that… you’re Commander Shepard, you know?” He watches her shoulders fall and he knows instantly it was the wrong thing to say.

“I get it, James,” she says, attempting to hide her dejection. It’s the title, the legend that again stands in her way from being a regular woman. So much for him being the person who makes her forget it all. “Don’t worry about it.” She withdraws from him quickly and a little more coldly than she intended. He again opens his mouth, but doesn’t form words. “I’ll see you later,” she dismisses him and he nods. He moves to leave before trying once more to end on a friendly note.

“This is gonna be a perfect place for a fiesta.”

~~~

For a guy who all but told her no, James is sure as shit staring at her an awful lot like he wants to rip her clothes off.

“Is constant staring customary to the human mating ritual?” Garrus teases him as he pours drinks on the other side of the bar. “Because if so, you’re doing a damn good job, Jimmy.” James grimaces and throws a peanut shell at the Turian.

“Shut it, Scars.”

“He’s still convinced regs are a problem to worry about,” Steve chimes in, clapping his friend on the shoulder.

“Regs? Really?” Garrus asks. “You realize breaking regulations is pretty much Shepard’s specialty, right?” He slides the drink towards James who just shakes his head at it and passes it to Steve. “And even if it wasn’t, we’re quite possibly facing the end of the galaxy here. Who’s kissing who isn’t something anyone’s worried about, even the brass.” James mumbles something and picks at the label on his nearly full beer bottle.

He can barely see Shepard at the kitchen entrance from his spot at the end of the bar and every time she moves, his neck cranes to follow her. He’d either purposely or accidentally kept her in view all night and has spent the better part of it kicking himself for not just throwing her against a wall earlier that day.

She catches his eye and he instantly looks away, back to his bottle. She chose to wear a dress of all things tonight. A god damned dress. A little black number that fit her better than it had any right to. The woman was trying to kill him.

“Boys,” he hears her greet them casually, having approached them at the bar while he was attempting to ignore her. “How are things going?” James doesn’t hear their response. He’s too preoccupied trying to keep his eyes off of her chest as she leans her hip against the edge of the bar. “You seem quiet, Vega,” she comments.

“Just enjoying the party.” He shrugs and takes a drink of his beer, thinking about how he could kill Garrus and Steve for the look they shoot each other.

“Steve,” Garrus interrupts. “Let me show you that data pad I mentioned earlier.” Garrus had, of course, mentioned no such data pad in their prior conversations, but Steve agreed eagerly and James really thought about strangling at least one of them when they left him alone with Shepard.

“We good?” she asks him so casually that he almost feels bad.

“Yeah, why?” He takes another drink of his beer and it quickly turns into a large gulp.

“You seem to be avoiding me,” She squints and forces a smile. “And also staring, which is odd. Just want to make sure we’re good.” She takes a sip of her own drink and shifts her eyes to the Turian alcohol bottle, investigating it curiously.

James chews on his tongue for a moment. She wants them to be good. Good means normal. Normal would mean telling her those squats she’s been doing have done wonders for her ass and that was dangerous tonight.

“It help if I tell you that you look damn fine in that dress?” He never was too good at avoiding danger.

“Maybe,” She shrugs and leans forward towards him just a little. “Probably help a little more if you called me Lola.” Damn if her voice didn’t sound husky and smooth. Despite his better judgement, he followed her lead and leaned in as well, lowering his voice if nothing more than to make sure eavesdroppers wouldn’t hear.

“Well, that dress is definitely giving me ideas… Lola.” A smile breaks on her lips and he’s not entirely sure, but he thinks he sees her shiver just the slightest. He takes another long drink, but this time doesn’t take his eyes off her.

“You going to keep a girl guessing or are you going to share with the class?” She takes a step forward, getting close enough for him to notices she actually put on a light layer of perfume too. He chuckles, but curses internally.

“You’re making it real hard to remember why this is a bad idea,” he warns.

He starts listing the reasons in his head. Fraternization regs. She’s his commander. She’s fucking Commander Shepard and he’s just a nobody lieutenant who makes a shitty leader. She’s probably looking for some kind of easy fling. Distracting her like that would be selfish. It’d look bad. The rest of the crew might start to question her judgement. The list goes on and on.

“I never pegged you to be a guy who runs hot and cold,” she says, breaking his train of thought. “And yet today you’ve given more mixed signals than a broken comm transmission.”

“Sorry, Lola.” And he is, honestly. He’s a tangled-up mess of thoughts and emotions and even the little bit of alcohol he’s consumed tonight is making him think with his dick first.

“Want me to put on a wig? Change my name? Maybe lay on an accent?” He can tell by the wiggle in her eyebrows as much as the suggestion itself that she’s had a little too much to drink, but it twists his stomach in a bad way all the same. “I don’t have to be Commander Shepard for a night.” And now he feels guilty, so much so that his neck and his face turn red and he looks down again, embarrassed at himself. She gives a quick pat to his forearm. “Come find me if you change your mind.”

She grabs her drink and leaves to mingle with her other guests, leaving him alone to feel like an asshole. He could never find the right thing to say around Shepard. Not when it came to this. He wanted her and lately he had to admit it was more than just a sexual attraction. He wanted more than that, but the idea of being selfish enough to pursue Commander Shepard was intimidating. Maybe, he admits, he needs to stop separating her and realize that Commander Shepard and his Lola are one and the same. Maybe then he can stop being a dick.

“Fucking pendejo,” he whispers to himself before swiping up that Turian bottle.

~~~

She can feel the headache before she even opens her eyes. Had she really drank much last night? No, she’s sure she didn’t. She even remembers everything, including climbing into her bed after barely having the energy to change clothes.

She throws on her N7 sweatshirt and slowly treks her way to the kitchen, making sure to note all the remnants of the party, including some of her friends scattered amongst the apartment. It makes her smile.

She smells bacon as she rounds the corner and sees James at the stove already in the full throws of making breakfast. He beams a smile at her when he sees her in the doorway and flips the pan a little.

“Lola!” he greets. “Eggs?”

“You’re awful cheery,” she comments dryly, and a little bitterly, as she steps further into the kitchen. She rounds the island the stove is on and snags a piece of bacon from the plate there.

“Been a while since you knocked that many back?” he teases, watching the way her eyes squint uncomfortably. “Breakfast will help.” He shovels some of the fresh eggs onto a plate and passes it her way. She takes them gratefully and reaches for the salt. James’ hand wraps around her wrist, stopping her reach. “You really gonna do me like that?” he scolds playfully. “Add salt before you even try them? That’s my abuela’s recipe. It doesn't need more salt.” She cracks a smile, but doesn’t move her hand away just yet, the warmth of his hand feeling too comforting to pull away from. There’s a gentle swipe of his thumb over her pulse before he lets go on his own. He empties the rest of the eggs on a communal plate before clearing his throat. “Hey, let me know when you have some time,” he says. It sounds surprisingly awkward. “I’ve got something I want to talk to you about.”

~~~

Never being one to put things off, Shepard returned to her room as soon as she’d finished eating and made the rounds to make sure everyone was awake or, at the very least, breathing.

I’m in my room. Got some time. She sends the message before even making it through the door. It doesn't take more than a few seconds for him to respond.

Be up in a minute.

She makes herself busy with her omni-tool while she waits. She feels a bit like a fool, practically throwing herself at him a second time only to be left alone again last night. She wouldn’t blame him if he came to talk to her about how uncomfortable she had made him.

She’s left the door open for him, but he still gives it a gentle knock to get her attention when he arrives.

“Nice room,” he comments, sticking his head over the threshold and looking around. “Bit different than the Normandy. Less fish.” He cracks a smile at her and the simple gesture puts her at ease a little. He can’t be pissed at her if he’s still making jokes, right?

“You’re just jealous you don’t have fish in your room.” She isn’t about to admit that she actually misses the blue glow and gentle whir of the filter when she falls asleep. Not right now at least.

“Yeah, well, maybe we should trade rooms sometime.”

Or maybe we could share mine. Shepard physically bites her tongue to stop herself from saying it aloud. Still unsure of exactly where they stand and just how awkward she made things for him, it is not the time to let the flirtations rise up that quickly.

He takes her brief silence to enter the room and close the door behind him. That makes her a little nervous, but not nearly as much as when he says, “So... we should talk about last night.”

“I owe you an apology, Lieutenant,” she says instantly, nearly cutting him off. The way she snaps back to professionalism with a straight back, pushed down shoulders, and a commanding tone makes him pause for a moment, his eyes widening just a fraction. “I was inappropriate with you and should not have taken advantage of my rank.” It takes an extra moment for her apology to sink in and his brow furrows as he sorts it through his brain.

“What? No!” he huffs and takes two large, hurried steps her way. She must not have held her surprise well enough because he suddenly stops again. “Lola,” he sighs. “I didn’t come here to... register a complaint.” His face crunches up as though he doesn’t like the way the word taste. “I came to apologize to you,” he says firmly. “And hopefully not fuck up my words this time.”

The intensity in his eyes and the way he’s not shying away from her makes Shepard feel like she’s a young girl again. Any and all experience she has with men and relationships seems to just melt away and suddenly she’s got butterflies and a blush. There’s a nervous heat in her stomach that makes it hard to regain her composure.

“Okay,” she says slowly, not completely sure of where he’s going, but hoping to every God in the galaxy that he’s not turning her down again.

“I can’t hook up with you.” The butterflies die and the excited heat turns to an anger.

“I promise you don’t have to reject me again for me to understand.” She says it harshly, bitterly even. She barely manages to contain throwing her arms in the air when she turns away from him, moving towards the desk in the corner as if she has something better to do. She hears him mutter under his breath and while her Spanish is terrible, the inflection makes it sound like a string of curses.

“Shepard!” He follows her footsteps and when she spins to sit in the desk chair, his arm is extended as though he reached out for her just a moment too late. “I can’t hook up with you,” he emphasizes. “I can’t do just one night and that’s what would have happened last night. Would have been a drunken hook up that one of us or both of us would have brushed off in the morning. I don’t want that.” Her anger starts to dissolve and her spine loses some of its rigidness as she slinks back into her chair.

“What do you want then?” she asks, voice softer and quieter now. She’s afraid of the answer. He chews on his tongue and grinds his jaw and she wonders if maybe he’s afraid too.

“You,” he finally says.

“You sure about that?” She can’t help but scoff. “I am Commander Shepard, after all.”

“Yeah, you are.” His sigh this time seems more like a pained groan. Shepard watches carefully as he turns and sits himself on her unmade bed. “Which is why it feels completely selfish and impossible to ask you to commit to anything more, let alone to an insignificant lieutenant like me.”

“Commit?” She suddenly feels lighter again.

“When I go for something, I go all in,” he tells her. “That would include you...this...us.” He waves his hand out awkwardly and avoids her eyes as though he’s nervous. She bites down on her lip to swallow down the smile. She knows it’s not exactly fair to enjoy his nervousness, but at least it’s not just her. She slowly pushes herself up from her chair.

“You’re not insignificant,” she assures him.

“I’m not some hero of the galaxy,” he admits. He doesn’t say it with a self-conscious, but rather states it just as a simple fact. “I haven’t been with you since the beginning like most of these guys.”

“You know that’s one of the things I like about you James?” He looks up at her curiously. “Sure, you’ve heard the stories, but we didn't meet on the ship in the midst of wars. We met on Earth.” She rounds the desk slowly, walking closer to where he sits still using caution in case he backs out. “You didn’t just get to know Commander Shepard. You got to know Jane, to know me. You treat me like I’m human.”

“You are human, Lola.” He’s not looking away from her now and it gives her a little burst of confidence.

“Yeah. What was it you said? Just flesh and blood?” There’s a tease of a smirk on her lips as she comes to stand in front of him, legs stopping just short of slipping between the gap of his spread knees. He chuckles and the weight of everything starts to lift.

“You sure about this, Lola?” He reaches out and curls his hand around her hip. It's the first time he’s ever really touched her and it makes her heart skip just a little. She leans into his touch, pushing her hip into his palm and leans forward to put her hands on his shoulders. He feels solid beneath her and she can’t resist the need to squeeze just a little, to feel the muscles at the end of her fingers.

“I’ve thought about it in great detail.” He cocks an eyebrow at her and tugs her in-between his legs. He watches her with an unbridled desire in his eyes and for the first time in a long time, she feels real excitement. She traces one hand up the side of his neck so she can run his fingers along his jaw. “That party shouldn’t be the last bit of happiness we get to indulge in.”

He moves quickly; his hand on the back of her neck before she knew he moved it, using barely any strength to pull her down to him. She follows him easily, all too eager to kiss him heatedly. Months of suppressed desires pour out into each other and for the first few moments, they merely hold onto each other and soak in the relief of letting go. And then James’ hands start moving, pulling her closer and sliding over the curve of her ass. Shepard is compliant and carefully climbs into his lap, one knee on either side of his hips on her bed. He bites gently at her bottom lip before using a hand on her jaw to tilt her head back, allowing him to kiss down her neck.

Eyes closed and succumbing to the pleasure he’s offering, Shepard is unprepared for when James moves again. He rolls to the side and pushes her onto her back on the bed. She lets out an actual squeak of surprise and James chuckles, still pressing kisses to her skin. With her legs still around his waist, his hips grind almost unconsciously and she doesn’t hold back her moan.

James peels himself away from her slowly, leaving a cold trail of air where his body had been on top of her. She opens her eyes and glares at him, but the smirk still on his face and the bulge she manages to catch a glimpse of through his pants, make sure no fear of rejection rises back in her.

“And where are you going?” she asks, attempting and failing to use her Commander tone. She tries again after clearing her throat and pushing herself up on her elbows. “You’re not leaving this room for a while.” James laughs and flashes her a smile as he keeps walking to the door.

“Is that an order?” he teases, pressing the lock for the door and waiting until it flashes red before turning back to her.

“You bet your ass it is.” She smiles back at him. She could have locked the door from right here with her omni-tool and he knew it. He was just being a teasing bastard. “You’re not leaving her until I say so.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he laughs again before coming back to her.

[swordsandshields99]

Chapters: 4/6 Rating: Mature Day 5 - We are Family - TW: Depictions of character death; grief  @cactuarkitty​

Chapter Summary: After the suicide mission, Garrus goes to visit his family, and his mother one last time. Regret, grief, family, and bitter-sweet, beautiful closure. 

When Garrus awoke on the Octavian Frigate, he forgot where he was for a moment. It took him a bit to gather his surroundings, taking deep breaths and calming his subharmonics. It'd been so long since he wasn't either on Omega, or a Cerberus ship. He heard the loud engines of the Turian frigate, the familiar humming of 100 Turian subharmonics ringing throughout the ship. Right. Family. He was on his way to see his family. For the first time in, well almost 3 years. He had been about to book a flight for Palaven when his sister, Solana, texted him saying they wouldn't be there. They were on a colony near Sur'Kesh. Where the Helios Medical Institute was located.

His family would never know, that it was his donation of Collector tissues, all the credits he had, and a wonderful letter of clearance from Mordin, that was the reason his mother had qualified for the treatment. From his father and sister's perspective, an anonymous donation allowed room for one more Turian patient. They'd' never know it wasn't anonymous, and it wasn't a donation. Garrus was broker than broke after that payment. They'd never know that after the mission on Horizon, he would have begged Mordin to send a sample to help his mother. Luckily for him, he only had to ask and Mordin was more than happy to help. He also knew, that without the Salarian's clearance, it still wouldn't have been enough to get the project running in time to help his mom.

And even for all that, it still wasn't fast enough to truly help her. At first, it seemed it might slow down her disease. But only for a few months before she took a turn for the worse.

Garrus stood at the docking bay doors, waiting for his cab. When it arrived, he got in without a word and punched in the facility's name. The computer did the rest. He spent the drive trying to figure out what he would say. He had decided a long time ago not to inform his family about the money and the tissue samples. As much as it had done to help her, and as much as it had relieved his family from the pressures of trying to care for her at home, it was nothing compared to the fact that he wasn't there for them.

Yes, his mission this past year with Shepard was important. Important enough, or he wouldn't have done it. But the two years before that? Omega? No, not only could he not tell them about that anyway without enduring a shame he didn't think he could shoulder, he should have been at home. He should have been helping. So now what? Lie? Say that his past mission was three years instead of one?

There was no way in hell he would lie. Never to his family. Not to most, but never to them. So what? He knew, while his father might just be disappointed enough not to even ask, his sister would.

He stood outside the facility doors, before taking a deep breath and going in. He pulled up his omni-tool to send a group text.

G: Dad, Sol, I'm here. What room #?

D: Room 203

S: I'll come get you.

It only took Sol 45 seconds to enter the lobby, their father in tow behind her. He knew the second they saw him. Sol's shocked face, her mandible's splaying out in horror. His dad's pained subharmonics.

Sol didn't know. Couldn't have known. When he finally made contact again, he refused to vid-call, always coming up with excuses. And after he called his father right before he thought he was about to die, well maybe his father was expecting as much.

"Garrus," Sol said, a bit breathless. "Spirits, what happened to you?" Sol had grown up tough. Always trying to keep up with her big brother. And she always succeeded. Garrus wasn't sure what she did after her initial period of service, but even he didn't have the military clearance to know what she was up to. But in this moment, she was the most tender he had ever seen her. She reached her hand out tentatively, holding the side of his face that was horribly mangled and scarred. Her subharmonics were ringing, part sadness, part shock, and the smallest bit of 'ick'.

"Missile to the face," he said, the same joke (that wasn't actually a joke) he'd be making for the rest of his life.

Castis walked up to his son, head held high, hands clasped behind his back. "This happen after our phone call?"

Garrus' subharmonics wavered, sounding with a certain acceptance and gratefulness. His father's brow plates rose when he heard it. Perhaps the old man wasn't expecting gratitude at bringing up that phone call, but Garrus felt it none-the-less. He would always be grateful for that 50 second phone call. The one where his father gave him some peace when he thought he was in his final moments.

Castis could hear that from his son's subharmonics now. His hard exterior melted into a relieved one. Castis placed a hand on Garrus' shoulder, "It's good to have you back in one piece, Son." His own subharmonics rumbled with relief and, to Garrus' surprise, fatherly love.

Garrus fought down his emotions, "How's mom?"

They were both too silent. Garrus' knew that was answer enough. Sol's subharmonics wavered with regret and grief. His mother wasn't gone yet, but she would be soon. "Let's go see her," Castis said softly as he turned to lead his children to their mother's hospital room.

Garrus wasn't sure what he expected. The last time he saw his mother, she was forgetting things. She could never remember what she had just been doing, or where she left any of her things. She was forgetting who people were, like their neighbors. And it was so unlike her, his mother always with sharp wit and a sharper tongue, that it hurt all the more to see. Her hands and legs had been shaky, but if she concentrated she could control it. And that was three years ago. Corpalis Syndrome wasn't kind.

They entered the dimly lit room, monitor's beeping softly. "When she's sleeping, she's so peaceful that it's a relief. But, I always want her to wake up. So that I can be with her," Sol's second vocals wavered heavily, her subharmonics grief stricken. Hearing his sister cry was hard, even if they were both adults. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and squeezed.

Their mother gasped suddenly upon hearing them, her eyes shot open. She wheezed heavily, each breath a struggle. Her eyes darted around the room. Castis walked calmly to her side, "We're here, dear. You're alright."

"Who.. who are..." Garrus' mother began. If she didn't recognize Castis, there was no way in hell she'd recognize him. Especially with half his face blown off. "Ah... Cas-castis, dear." She stuttered horribly, her hands shaking uncontrollably as she tried desperately to clasp her bond-mate's hand. Castis reached out and held her hand tightly, but even that wasn't enough to stop the shaking. "Castis, I d-d-don't want t-to be h-h-here. P-please, where are we? T-t-take me home?!" Her voice was pain-stricken. Her subharmonics were wavering wildly, changing from scared to angry every other sentence. Garrus had never heard his mother sound scared a day in his life.

Garrus' felt Sol squeeze his hand as she whispered, "Dad thinks she's been waiting to see you Gar. She's been holding on."

Garrus' throat tightened and his hide itched at the thought. Had she? Spirits.

"We're here so you can be more comfortable, I promise my bonded," Castis said in a soothing tone.

"She'd want to be at home at the end. But the medicine is keeping her as comfortable as we can manage. Without it, she'd be in too much pain. Everything is just... shutting down so quickly," Sol said quietly.

"Look, bonded, the kids are here to see you."

Garrus' mother looked at the pair. "Kids... we have kids?"

Garrus felt horrified, but Sol acted like it was just another Tuesday. "Hi mom, it's Solana," his sister said as she approached the bed so her mother could see more clearly.

"Sol! When did you get here?" his mother said happily, chirping as if Sol was 10 years old. "Are you being good?"

"Yes, I promise," Solana said with a forced laugh. Sol looked back at him and gave him a forceful look.

So he stepped forward. "Hi mom, it's me, Garrus," he said, taking his sister's lead.

"Garrus. You're not Garrus," his mother said, furry in her eyes. "Not my Garrus." His mother looked at Castis then, "Garrus is at target practice out back, isn't that right Castis?"

"No dear, this is Garrus. Isn't he all grown up now? He's been away on a mission."

"A mission? My, aren't we so proud of him Castis," his mother said as she turned back to him. Suddenly, her eyes cleared and her subharmonics rang out with motherly affection and love. "Garrus... my Garrus. You've been hurt."

"Hey mom," Garrus said, relief flooding his bones. "Yeah, all better now though, promise."

She nodded. "You'll be alright. You'll see," she said with meaning behind the words. He felt like keening right then and there, but fought it down. She always knew what to say. She tried reaching out for him, so he got closer and held her other hand in his. "I love you, my son. I'm not sure what your mission was, or what your next one will be, but your mother always believes in you." And just as quickly as it came, the moment of clarity vanished. She wrenched her hand from his. "Who are you?" she said angrily. "Castis, where's Castis?!"

"I'm here," Castis said, grasping for control of his emotions. "I'm right here."

"Castis," she wheezed as she looked at her bond-mate. "It... it hurts."

Castis keened, his control slipping. He regained control of his vocals and subharmonics quickly and said, "I'll give you more medicine, bonded. Hold on."

"It hurts," his mother whispered. "It hurts, it hurts, it hurts." Her body stiffened and shook for a split second, and when she relaxed again continued quietly, "Castis, my hurt. My hurt. My hurt."

Castis fumbled with the button and pressed it twice, and slowly it seemed as if she had drifted to sleep. The family stood in silence for a moment before she whispered, "Castis. Take me to the window?"

"Bonded?" he asked, unsure if she was in her right mind or if she meant it.

"I long to see the stars again, just once," she wheezed.

Castis scooped her up in his arms, and Garrus saw just how tiny and fragile his mother was. Castis pinned down her arms, but her legs shook still. Garrus saw the cords getting pulled, so he pushed the medicine trolley behind them.

Castis brought her to the window and opened the curtains. Garrus thanked the Spirits the stars were visible that night. His mother gazed at the bright stars for a few silent moments with his father before she turned her head into Castis' chest and whispered, "Starlight and dancing?"

Castis chuckled softly. "Starlight and dancing. Always."

Garrus wasn't sure what it meant, but it was clearly meaningful to them.

The slow and erratic beeping of her heart monitor slowed. Castis went rigid, and Garrus heard the low, mournful rumblings of grief begin to form in his father's subharmonics. They listened to the heart monitor in silence, until 5 minutes later, it stopped. A Salarian doctor came to the door, and without disturbing anyone in the room, checked his mother's pulse. He made a note in his omni-tool. "I'm sorry," the doctor said quietly, and left the room.

Castis collapsed in the chair near the window, still holding his bond-mate in his arms. The rumble that Garrus heard earlier grew louder and louder until the subharmonics were nearly deafening. Garrus wasn't sure how humans couldn't hear something so loud. Something so utterly bone shattering. Solana began keening quietly, and he drew her close, hugging her tightly. And Garrus did what he always did. He shut it off. All of it. He clamped down as hard as he could on his subharmonics and was silent.

After 30 minutes passed, Solana's keening died down as she said, "I guess she was waiting for you."

And just like that, he shattered. He dropped to his knees and put his head in his hands, keening louder than he ever had as a child. He felt Sol kneel down beside him and embrace him as she too keened, but more softly. He felt his fathers hands on them, his subharmonics naturally rumbling comforting tones to his children. Garrus wasn't sure how long they stayed like that, but eventually he came back to himself. Sol had fallen asleep, so he picked her up and set her in the chair next to them. He looked over at the bed. His father must have placed their mother their before coming to them.

A different Salarian with a lab coat came in then. "I'm sorry for you loss, Vakarian clan. I wish there was more that could have been done." The Salarian turned to Garrus. "She was lucky to have such a devoted son. With your permission, the Institute would appreciate keeping the samples and donations you sent. While we are incredibly sorry that it was not in time to help your mother, the research we are conducting now with the tissue samples you sent will most certainly help us find a cure, and many others in the future will be spared."

Garrus nodded his head numbly.

"Thank you, Mr. Vakarian." The Salarian turned to Castis. "Senior Vakarian, please take your time here. When you are ready, please indicate what you would like our next steps to be. We can take care of her here, or send her home to Palaven, but we must prepare her either way."

Castis nodded, and the Salarian left.

"What?" Sol suddenly asked. She must have woken from the Salarian.

"What?" Garrus asked.

"Samples and donations?"

Shit, he thought. Garrus sighed. His mind was fuzzy, and he didn't have the capacity to think clearly at the moment. He shook his head, trying to clear it.

"Garrus," his father said, his subharmonics sounding panicked. "Tissue samples... yours? Son, do you have Corpalis?" His father's second vocals wavered so intensely Garrus worried he might fall over. Sol's subharmonics joined in with panic.

"No! No. No, the... the samples, I," it took more than he had to explain the collectors right now.

"Son, please, I," Castis started.

"No, I promise, I don't. The tissue samples are... they're Collector tissue samples. I worked with an STG agent when we acquired them. We believed they showed capabilities to cure some neurological diseases. And it turns out we were right. I thought I'd have to wait until we went through Omega-4, but the Collectors came early. Sent in the tissue samples, with the Agent's approval to move ahead with the Institue's Corpalis project."

Castis was visibly relieved, and his knuckles turned white as he gripped the back of his chair. "Spirits," he said softly, his eyes closing.

"You... you did all that for mom?" Sol whispered. "And, donations?"

Garrus sighed, hanging his head heavily. He hadn't wanted this. Still didn't want this. "Every credit I've earned the past 3 years has gone to getting mom into the project." He stood angrily. "And it was all for nothing. I wasn't... I wasn't fast enough. It wasn't enough." His hands balled into fists, so tight his talons broke skin.

He felt Sol's hand on his arm. "Garrus, even if Dad and I had been able to save for 10 years, we couldn't have paid for mom's treatment. Do you have anything left?"

"I sold my apartment, and everything I own, and took every job I could take. And my last mission was assigned to be a suicide mission. I wasn't supposed to come back from that, but it paid well. Well enough to pay for 75% of the treatment."

"So, the missile incident wasn't even the suicide mission?" Castis said.

Garrus shook his head, "No, just a job gone wrong."

"I'm sorry," Sol said abruptly.

"For what, Sol?" he murmured.

"When we spoke before your last mission, I... well I thought you had just abandoned us. I was so harsh... so mean, and you were on your way to what, die in a mission while saving mom? Garrus, I had no idea."

"Sol, you couldn't have known. And even if you had known, you were still right. I wasn't here. Wasn't here for her."

"G, you were here for her. Fighting for her every day. You heard her, she believed in you. She knew you. You were doing what we couldn't. That's what families do."

Before he could argue, his father cut in. "Garrus, you said it was for nothing, that it wasn't fast enough," Castis said with a sigh. "Before she came here, it was worse than what you saw today. We weren't equipped.. I.. wasn't equipped to handle your mother's care. She needed around the clock care and medicine. She was lingering, not bad enough to die, but bad enough to be in constant misery. She couldn't talk, at all. Not at all. This treatment saved us. It saved her. Saved her spirit, her dignity, gave her peace and relief from the pain. It gave her," Castis choked up, "it gave her a much better end than what we could have given her. I would've given anything for that, for her." He walked up to his son, "Not enough? Garrus, it was everything."

[lopithecusfanfiction]

Dissension

Author: Lopithecus Pairing: Kaidan Alenko/Male Shepard Rating: General Audience Word Count: 1670 Alternate: AO3 Summary: Shepard and Kaidan argue over how a mission went Warnings: N/A Author's Note: This is for Day 4 of Mass Effect Trilogy Appreciation Week! Please enjoy! Prompt: Day 4 - Argument

Kaidan watches silently as Doctor Chakwas slaps some medi-gel onto a deep cut that is on Shepard’s side, arms crossed and leaning against the opposite bed to the Commander. Shepard hisses at the sting, flinching away and then regretting the movement immediately as his entire side shoots fiery pain through his body. There’s a huge black and blue that spreads all the way past his naval and up into his chest. Broken ribs, Doctor Chakwas had supplied and then lectured Shepard on the ideals of not falling off high places. Shepard had sat there and taken it, feeling the tension coming off of Kaidan in waves.

“There,” Doctor Chakwas pulls away, inspecting her handiwork of wrapping Shepard’s abdomen up. “It’ll hurt to move and breathe for a while but you should be fine.” There’s a hint of flabbergasted amusement in her voice, as if she doesn’t expect anything different from Shepard. Shepard has the feeling Kaidan wouldn’t appreciate the tone, however, so he’s grateful the Doctor keeps it mostly hidden. “And because I know there’s no way I’ll be able to keep you on bed rest for six week, I will give you some potent painkillers. Just don’t overdo it, Commander. Your ribs do need to heal properly.”

Shepard grunts and then hops off the table. He eyes Kaidan, who still hasn’t spoken a single word, and gestures with his head to follow him. Shepard might as well bite the bullet and confront whatever is bothering Kaidan now instead of waiting for it later. So, he leads the way to the elevator and half expects Kaidan to start in on him while they are alone in there but the biotic waits until the door is completely shut to Shepard’s quarters before he speaks.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Kaidan’s voice is low instead of raised like Shepard had expected.

“There was no other choice, Kaidan,” Shepard says, as if that’s the final word on it and if he was half the Commander he should be with Kaidan, it would have been.

But Kaidan doesn’t like that answer and he knows he gets more leeway with Shepard because Shepard cares about him in a different way than the rest of the crew. “There were plenty of other options,” his voice is starting to rise now, his muscles tense. “I even suggested another option but you chose to ignore it.”

“That’s because the last I knew, I was the Commander and you’re supposed to listen to me.” The words are out of Shepard’s mouth before he can even give it some thought and Kaidan’s jaw clenches shut, eyebrows furrowing dangerously. The silence between them drags on for a long time, neither of them wanting to admit defeat. Both of them have always been stubborn.

Soon, Kaidan gives a small shake of his head, as if he is fed up or maybe disappointed that Shepard isn’t the first one to break. “Well… sorry I overstepped, Commander .” He leaves then, turning on his heels and exiting the room with a straight back and stiff strides.

Shepard sighs and carefully sits down on the edge of his bed, one hand holding onto his side where his broken ribs are. He probably shouldn’t have said that to Kaidan, especially not to him and especially not when all Kaidan was trying to do was keep him safe. He can’t blame Kaidan for that. Still, it would probably be best to let the biotic cool off some before confronting him.

Shepard begins busying himself with going over mission reports, filling one out for their latest mission in which he got injured on, and trying to nurse his aching ribs. Eventually, he gets impatient, however, and he can’t help but go searching for Kaidan once the last report is filed away. He doesn’t like Kaidan being mad at him, never has, and he doesn’t want another argument to last as long as the Horizon one did ever again.

He finds Kaidan in the Mess Hall with Liara, Garrus, Tali, and James. They are all eating, James laughing loudly about something. Shepard doesn’t even bother greeting the others and instead strides up to Kaidan. “Kaidan.”

Kaidan doesn’t even look his way. “Something you need, Commander?”

So, he’s definitely still angry. “Can we talk?”

“I don’t know, is this about work?” He finally looks up at Shepard, eyes hard and unreadable. “Anything else would be inappropriate for a Commander and a subordinate to talk about.”

Shepard winces at Kaidan calling himself a subordinate since he really isn’t anymore. Shepard eyes Liara, Garrus, Tali, and James, all of whom have fallen silent and are watching closely. Well, if Kaidan wants to play that game, then fine. “Starboard. Now.” He walks away before Kaidan can respond to him but Shepard doesn’t miss the audible sigh the biotic lets out.

Kaidan follows him into the Starboard Lounge quietly, not even speaking when the door shuts behind them. Shepard turns to face Kaidan, surprised to see just how defeated the man looks. He crosses his arms, allowing the silence to drag out between him and Kaidan until Shepard thinks it’s been long enough.

“Are you done being passive aggressive?” he asks, because he really doesn’t want to do this if all Kaidan is going to be is stubborn.

Kaidan sighs again and his shoulders relax. He takes a step forward and doesn’t stop until he is walking past Shepard and to the window. “I’m sorry, Shepard, it’s just… what you said…”

Shepard bites his lip and joins him at the window. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know,” Kaidan says. He’s still looking out the window, not meeting Shepard’s eyes. “It made me feel like that though.”

“I’m sorry.” Kaidan glances at him, maybe trying to gauge whether Shepard actually means the apology or maybe it’s as simple as the biotic coming around. “Look, I know what I did on that mission was reckless and I know it scared you-”

“You don’t get it,” Kaidan interrupts, turning back towards the window.

“Then make me get it, Kaidan, because I don’t know what you want me to say here.”

Kaidan shakes his head, bowing it to now look at the floor, and for a second, Shepard is afraid he won’t and they’ll be back to square one. Then Kaidan takes a deep breath, to steady himself Shepard supposes, and starts talking quietly as if he doesn’t actually want to think about what he’s about to say. “It was terrible the first time you… when you died, Shepard. Everyone was… we all grieved for you, we didn’t know what to do with ourselves except sit there on a frozen planet waiting for rescue.”

“I thought you found out after you all got rescued,” Shepard says, confused.

Kaidan shakes his head again. “No. Joker, he…” Kaidan sighs, the memory obviously painful to think about. “He told us what happened through the comms. It wasn’t that hard to guess what happened next.”

“I didn’t know.”

“That’s the thing, Shepard.” Kaidan now turns, full body and looks into Shepard’s eyes. “You don’t know. You don’t know what it was like for the crew, for Joker, for me. I-” He swallows, takes a breath. “I loved you, even back then, and I know we weren’t together then and you didn’t know how I felt, but you dying, Shepard… I wasn’t joking when I said back on Horizon that it felt like losing an arm and a leg. It tore me up, I couldn’t do my job properly for months , and then when Hackett finally let me back on duty, it was just like going through the motions. It took me a long time to get past that and I can’t… I can’t do that again, Shepard. I can’t lose you again, especially now that we are together.” Kaidan takes a deep breath, realizing just now how much he actually said. “I don’t think I’d be able to survive it this time, Shepard, so… yeah, you taking unnecessary risks is going to worry me and piss me off. I’m sorry, that’s just… that’s just who I am now.”

Shepard moves, feels the ache in his ribs, and sighs. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you like that. I can’t guarantee I’ll get out of every mission unscathed, though, Kaidan, you know that.”

“I know, I’m not naive, I’ve been doing this almost as long as you have but… if there’s an alternative, a safer , more practical alternative, then I don’t see a reason to not try that first,” Kaidan states, turning back to the window.

Shepard watches him, the frown that is set on his face, the grey hair that has started showing up at his temples, the new wrinkles that weren’t there when Shepard had died the first time. He reaches out, runs his fingers through that black hair, feeling how soft it is, and pulls Kaidan’s head towards him just in time for Kaidan to eye him suspiciously. Shepard kisses him, just above the temple and then rests his own forehead there

“I’ll try to listen to you more.”

“That’s not what I-”

“I know what you meant but… your idea on the last mission was a good one and I should have listened.” Shepard pulls back to make eye contact with Kaidan. He gives the biotic a small, reassuring smile. “I’m sorry I didn’t.”

Kaidan doesn’t say anything and he doesn’t have to. It’s all written in his eyes; how terrified he is, how much he worries, and just how much he loves Shepard. Kaidan steps closer, wrapping his arms around Shepard’s middle carefully, making sure not to squeeze. He then rests his chin on Shepard’s shoulder, holding him, and Shepard mimics the stance, holding Kaidan back.

Shepard doesn’t know how long they stay there, just hugging each other, but he doesn’t mind. As long as he and Kaidan are okay and the biotic is back in his arm, nothing else matters.

—————————————————————————————————

A/N: Thanks for reading!

[baejax-the-great]

5 Favorites

Thank you for the tags @pedlimwen and @noire-pandora!

I’ll tag forward @luzial @midnightprelude @juliafied @swaps55 @asaara-writes

If there are rules to this, I’m ignoring them in favor of posting 5 favorite sections from relatively recently posted writing. If you are thinking, “I haven’t written 5 different works!” 1. Congratulations on your commendable focus to your WIPs, please lend me some of it and 2. I’m pretty sure you can pick 5 sections from the same work.

1. From Serenity (Fenris x Hawke):

“I heard the funniest joke today,” she announced, feet barely over his threshold. “I was in the Lowtown markets, by that stall that sells those Antivan pancakes. As an aside, are the Antivans known for pancakes? It hardly seems like a cultural tradition. Fish stew, those little grape leaf things, olives—those are Antivan. Do you think the owner of that stall never learned to cook anything else back home and just decided to make the most of it when he got here? Ferdo, I think his name is. Have you ever bought one of his pancakes?”

Hawke’s words too quickly became background noise to his work, but when he finally parsed the question, Varric grunted an affirmative. Hot food was hot food, and Varric liked the weird, spicy sauce Ferdo put on it. Maybe she was right, though, and it was only there to mask the incompetence. Fuck if he knew. It never made him sick and it was exactly what it claimed to be. Good enough.

She took a date from his bowl, plucking out the seed before popping it into her mouth. “Maybe I should try one, then,” she mused, “May I have some?”

She didn’t wait for his next grunt, uncorking the bottle that was holding down his earnings reports and pouring herself a glass of wine. Varric flipped through his letters, he was certain he’d just had the one from the beet farm talking about the season’s yields. By the sound of it, Hawke had flopped into the chair across from him.

“So I was by that stall, and Gordon was there, you know, that idiot sailor who got himself punched silly last week when he tried to cheat Bran’s crew with some phony whisky. Still has some teeth left after that, and I guess he’s dead set on losing all of them.”

Varric found the letter and copied the numbers while Hawke told him about Gordon’s myriad problems. As long as Varric wasn’t expected to help her fix any of them, that was all fine. He was full up on friends with poor decision-making skills and poorer coin purses. The last pirate he befriended disappointed him bitterly, and he wasn’t ready to forgive them as a lot. He signed his last document with a flourish and realized Hawke had been silent for at least thirty seconds. He tried to remember what she’d last said to him. “Wait, what? Was any of that a joke?”

2. From The Depth of Fear (Bethany x Alistair):

“Why?” she sneered, stabbing at her dinner, “It’s not your fault Loghain threw the battle at Ostagar and left my home to rot. Or that two Wardens weren’t enough to save the entire South.”

Alistair flinched, though he couldn’t say why. It really hadn’t been their fault, as far as he could see. A bit late on the beacon, sure, but that didn’t matter when the rest of the army had already fled the field. And he had killed Loghain for that, among other things, so justice was served, he supposed. Not that justice brought anyone back who was lost. Somehow, watching her attack her meal with the sort of gusto he’d seen her apply to melting an ogre, he still felt a pang of guilt. “We could have been faster at finding the Archdemon I guess.”

She held a forkful of potatoes aloft while parsing his words, her expression softening into recognition.  “Maker, you’re him? That Alistair. The other Warden. With the Hero.”

Alistair nodded, poking at his beans. “That’s my preferred title, you know. That Alistair, the Other Warden. Snappy. Gets the point across.”

3. From First Contact (Garrus x Shepard):

“Shepard, I’ve always wanted to ask…”

She took a deep breath and smiled. It was only a matter of time. “You can touch it.”

“Oh, uh…”

“My hair, right? Aliens always want to touch human hair.” Tali had asked weeks ago. Liara had asked back on the SR-1. Wrex had simply gone for it one day with a terrified crewmate who asked to be transferred later. But Garrus had shown remarkable self-control that led to Shepard wondering if he had secretly asked Kaidan back in the day. Kaidan’s hair might have been better, honestly. He had more of it than Shepard did. Still, the thought almost stung.  

“Yeah, in C-SEC we actually had to make a public service campaign to stop people from touching humans. The Drell got it in their heads that touching human hair was good luck. We had posters around reminding them it was technically assault.”

Shepard laughed, trying to imagine what that poster must have looked like. Various aliens grabbing at terrified and offended humans, probably. Touching humans: Not even once. “That is what you were going to ask, though, right?”

His mandibles flexed out and back in. “Well… yeah…”

“You can cop a feel, Vakarian.” She raised an eyebrow. “But only if I can touch yours.”

4. All of TEOS, but sure I’ll pick these lines today:

Zevran put a hand on his back.

“What a terrible burden to realize you are attracted to your wife.”

Alistair shot him a dark look. It was a burden. And a mistake. It was all a lot easier when he thought she’d be some scary warmongering shrew.

“You’re allowed to love her, Alistair. There aren’t any rules against it.”

“I wouldn’t even know how,” he muttered, pushing himself away from the window.

5. And I guess this from Red (Fenris x Hawke):

It was easy to convince himself to keep drinking against the red glow of his fingers. He never thought he could feel a deeper loathing for his own skin, a deeper sense of betrayal or fear or disgust. He’d long come to find a gentle neutrality toward the markings. They made him a weapon, but he was master to himself. They’d sent him on a path, and somewhere along the way he had controlled the destination. And it had been good, so good. To once again lose everything—his past and now his future— to pretty marks etched artistically into his flesh… he could almost hear Danarius laughing.

So he turned his gaze to Hawke. An hour ago he had steeled himself to never see her again. If he’d gotten on his horse faster, urged her into a canter, he would have done it. Left her behind and faced his fate. But she—she always saw a path where he didn’t. She offered him a future, and he wanted it so badly.  Lasts be damned, he kissed her. Hard. Red hand on the bottle and white hand in her hair. He should have known that she’d find hope in this, their most hopeless situation yet. She tasted of hope; she exhaled it in every breath. He kissed her like it was the first time and they had all the time in the world to get it right. And then he kissed her again because he could, right now he still could, and right now was everything.

Hawke pulled away first, and he dropped his head against her shoulder.

“Next time we have a problem, we sort it out together,” she said, “I don’t join the Inquisition, and you don’t ride off to die alone when you get a spot of rash.”  

“I promise,” he drawled into her neck.

[axiomsend]

Sleeping Around the Galaxy

A Mass Effect Fanfiction about just that. But not really.

This has happened before, just not in front of them. Not in front of anyone. And definitely not in the middle of a battle with the Geth. 

“Shepard?” Garrus calls to her from cover, but she can’t respond to him. She can’t respond to anyone now. “Shepard? Are you okay?” He calls to her again and there is still no response. There are few enough Geth that if Kaidan and Garrus place their shots right, they’ll be able to take them out without her. 

“I’ve got her. Cover me, Garrus” Kaidan makes a break from his cover to approach her, unsure of what he’ll find. He sends a Geth flying on his way there. Once he gets close to her, he can see that she’s lying on her stomach, face down. There’s no obvious bleeding on this side of her body, so he carefully turns her onto her back. No bleeding on that side either. Her eyes are closed. Her breathing is even, if a little slower than normal, and she otherwise seems perfectly fine. Why wasn’t she responding?

“She’s asleep” 

I’m not asleep, you idiot. I just don’t have control of my muscles right now. 

“She’s What?” Garrus replies, sniping a Geth in the head, leaving only a few more to deal with. 

“She’s asleep.”

“Then try waking her up!” 

Oh, this should be fun. 

Kaidan gently shakes her to try and wake her up. It doesn’t work. He shakes a little harder this time, and still, nothing. 

This isn’t helping me, Lieutenant

“She’s out like a light. I’ll call Joker.”

“I’ll clean up what’s left of the Geth.” With a few more shots, all the Geth are dead. 

“Joker. Get the Normandy down here now. Something’s wrong with Shepard.” 

“Alright, Lieutenant. I’ll let Dr. Chawkwas know. How bad is it?” Joker’s usual banter disappears when Shepard is in immediate danger. The jokes can come later- and they will. 

Oh I’m in for it now. 

“Not sure. As far as we can tell, she’s just unconscious.”

I’m not. 

“Copy Lieutenant. Be there soon.” 

Kaidan begins to pick Shepard up, trying to carry her by himself. She’s heavier than she looks.

Please don’t drop me.

“You need help there, Lieutenant?” Garrus asks

“No, I’ve got-” Kaidan’s grip slips and Shepard falls back to the ground. Having no muscle control, Shepard can’t exactly hold any of her own bodyweight, which makes this different from her previous injuries. 

Thanks a lot, Kaidan.

“Yes please.”

 Garrus chuckles and goes to help him.

They shuffle together across the now silent battlefield, approaching the Normandy that had landed a few yards away. 

“We’re almost there, Commander. We’ve got you” Kaidan reassures her. Just as they get to the Normandy’s shuttle bay, she begins to regain muscle control

“Shepard?”

“Hey, Garrus. How long have I been-” She interrupts herself with a very loud yawn, “Well I guess that explains it. Chawkwas is gonna kill me.” She forcefully pulls herself from the two men, clearly able to walk by herself. 

“Why is Chawkwas gonna-”

“Commander.” Chawkwas greets her with a stern look. Shepard isn’t sure how badly Chawkwas is going to scold her, but judging by her face, it’s gonna be a lot. “Have a nice nap?” Alright, maybe she won’t be in for it as much as she thought.  

“Refreshing. C’mon Kaidan, Garrus. I think we’re done here.” 

Neither of them pries further, even though they want to. Shepard would tell them in time, especially if it was relevant to future missions. 

“I’m fine, Karin, really.” She tries to reassure the doctor as they ride the elevator, joined by Kaidan. Garrus stays on the lower floor, where he usually hangs out. 

“You’re only fine because Garrus and Kaidan were there with you. You would be dead if they didn’t come with.” 

“I don’t go anywhere without a squad to make sure that doesn’t happen.” Juniper whispers in Chawkwas ear. “I would prefer we not discuss my health in front of one of my crew”

“I know that Shepard, but I think you should let them know” Chawkwas voice is raised slightly, making sure that Kaidan could hear her crystal clear. 

“I’m pretty sure that’s a-” “Lieutenant, don’t get involved.” Shepard knows how much Kaidan is into her, and she finds it adorable. Sometimes it gets annoying, like now. He doesn’t need to stick up for her. 

Chawkwas and Shepard get out of the elevator first, with Kaidan following behind. 

When the door to medbay shuts behind them, Karin asks a loaded but simple question. “Have you been taking your stimulant?”

“Yes. Mostly. I might’ve missed it this morning” Her lie is unconvincing, as most of her lies are. 

“Mhm. This morning only, right? No other times before this.”

“Well-”

“Commander Shepard” Her tone is that of a disappointed mother who knows that her child is hiding something.

“I might’ve also forgotten to take them all of last week.” 

“Forgotten?”

“I promise I’m not missing them on purpose. I just wake up and I’m so tired. I can’t do anything” Shepard tries justifying her actions but it’s not working. 

“That’s why you’re taking the stimulant, Shepard. They can’t help you if you don’t take them.” 

“I know that. For the record, I’m concerned too. I don’t usually get cataplexy episodes in the middle of combat. Not since Akuze.” 

“You’ve been on your stimulant for years now, it might be that it’s just masking the symptoms. Another reason to stay on top of it.” Chawkwas’ explanation makes sense but it doesn’t make Shepard feel any better. 

“I know, I know. I’ll set a reminder on my omni-tool to take it with my breakfast.” Thinking that’s all there is to the conversation, Shepard moves to exit the med-bay.

“Not so fast, Commander. I have to do a full physical and mental wellness check before I can reapprove you for duty.” 

Shepard sighs, and turns around. There was no point in arguing with her. “Alright. Go ahead.” 

Chawkwas does a pass over Shepard’s body with her omni-tool and the scans come back clear.

“What is your name? What year is it?”

“Juniper Shepard. 2183”

“Who are the Citadel Councillors.” 

“Tevos, Valern and Laeil.” Shepard knows that the question is supposed to analyze her cognitive abilities, but it still feels a little insulting. She talks to those idiots all the time. If she didn’t know their names by now, she never would. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Fine. Tired. As always. Am I free to go?” 

“Yes, Commander. But I’d suggest you inform your crew of your condition in case it progresses or you forget to take your stimulant. Again.” The way Chawkwas emphasizes forget makes Juniper think that she doesn’t believe that she’s forgetting them. 

“I know, Doctor. I’ll tell them. Eventually. I’ll see you later.” She replies, leaving the med-bay.

“Drop by anytime, Shepard.” 

She’s barely left the med-bay when she hears his voice. “Are you okay, Commander?” Kaidan asks tentatively. She wants to roll her eyes into the back of her head.

Kaidan is a sweet man. Sickeningly sweet. He’s not delicate by any means, yet every time she tries to talk to him, she feels like he’ll break in half from nerves. Yet, she can’t bring herself to hurt him by letting him down hard. He hasn’t picked up that she’s been trying to let him down easy. 

“I’m fine, Lieutenant. Chawkwas looked me over for good measure, and I’m perfectly fine. No need to worry about me.” 

“Juniper, is there something wrong?” Okay, maybe she kind of likes him. The way her name rolls of his tongue is so comforting. Home-like. Shepard isn’t used to people worrying about her like this. Or using her first name. 

“Nothing I can’t handle, Kaidan. I’m fine. I’ll let you know if it becomes a problem.” 

“Okay. I’m here if you need to talk.” 

“I know.” 

Shepard heads up the stairs to the Command Deck, hoping to not run into anyone on her way up. When she gets to the combat information center, she feels Pressly’s eyes boring into her, along with several others of her crew. She decides to address him rather than scolding the rest of the crew. That’s not really in her nature, anyway. At least, not with people she actually likes. 

“Pressly. Is there a problem?” All the eyes shift away from her once she says this, except his. Instead, they shift upwards, looking her directly in the eye. “No, Commander. Nothing to report.” 

“I know I have a fantastic ass but please try to refrain from marveling at it while we’re on duty.” She teases him, making the other crew members laugh. They all know the reason for the staring, but they laugh along anyway. 

Pressly’s face flushes and he quietly replies, “Won’t happen again, Commander.” 

With the matter temporarily resolved, she plots a course for their next mission objective: Noveria.

[ramblinganthropologist]

Writober 2020 - 12 (Vibration)

Commander Shepard keeps WHAT in his toolbox? Well, whatever... it works I guess? Hope he’s not using it for personal use afterwards...

(ME1, in which Al is adjusting.)

---

“Hope you brought your tools with you, Shepard.”

“When do I never, Garrus?”

The turian moved to the side to allow Alistair access... to his own ship. Most commanding officers probably would've had a thorn in their side about that, but not him. Garrus had been there first anyway, so it was only natural he was taking up space.

Space being the undercarriage of the Mako, of course.

“Sorry to have to call you down like this, nobody else could reach it.” Garrus was eyeing his small frame in that way people always did when they sized him up. “I think you'll fit.”

Alistair felt his cheeks heat up briefly as he set his toolbox down. Unlike most of the things he owned, it was red and some of the paint was chipping off.  The N7 magnet on the lid was new, though – he had gotten that a few months after he'd gone into space.

“Yeah, I think I'll be able to reach it. You just hand me what I need.”

Even for him, it was a tight squeeze. Had he been a little more muscular, he probably would've gotten stuck. Hooray for being lean muscle, or so he kept to himself as he started to feel around for what was causing the problem.

“Could you hand me that screwdriver with the red handle?”

Garrus had it in his waiting right hand within seconds. “The box doesn't look Alliance issue, by the way.”

“It was my mom's.” Alistair turned back to monkey with the problem, grunting as he tried to unscrew the bolt holding the casing together. “Don't see a need to replace it, it's almost 40 years old now.”

If he closed his eyes, sometimes he could still see her holding it. But memories from before the age of 5 were hard to hold onto, especially with all the hits to the head he risked. Just having it with him was enough of a memory boost.

With one more click, the casing slid off. “There we go, that should let me have a little more access. Can't really see anything wrong, though.”

Garrus was reading off a datapad now. “We're in the right area, the scan picked up some weakness about where your left hand is. It's not showing up?”

The Spectre turned the flashlight on his omni-tool to full blast and rotate it so he could see where his hand was going. It all looked pretty solid to him, though a little on the dirty side. Their last mission had seen them through a pretty dusty planet. Once this was all done, he was going to need to give it a good wipe down. Hell if any of those tiny rocks got stuck in something when they were dropping down planet side.

Just another thing to add to his to-do list. He probably could've gotten someone else to do it, given it was his ship and he was kind of CO, but Alistair liked doing this sort of thing himself. It helped ground him as the universe went to hell left, right, and center.

“Nope, just seeing rocks.” He frowned, grabbing for his flashlight once again. “Hey, can you hand me that small, round-ended tool in there? I think I need to check with a vibration instead, something might have gotten knocked loose.”

He removed his omni-tool hand from the fix and held it out in expectation. Behind him, he could hear Garrus rummaging around in the box, muttering to himself in tones too low for the translator to pick up. Luckily, Alistair spoke a little turian – he definitely heard 'where the fuck is it' and 'why is this such a spirits damned mess' before 'this better be it, I'm not going back in there' as his helper pulled something out of the box.

Then again, translation was always key on seeing the mandibles flap. He had probably been a lot nicer about it.

“This it?” Garrus switched back to common as he place something small, smooth, and round into Alistair's hand. Instinct took him to the base, where the button was. As soon as he pushed it, it started to vibrate in his hand.

Much to the amusement of everyone in the cargo hold.

Alistair felt his face heat up as he pulled his hand away to hide the contents inside the housing. He didn't even need to look at it to know what it was – that pattern of vibration was... rather familiar to him to say the least. He clicked it off, wanting nothing more than to disappear altogether. After all, it wasn't every day a ship's commanding officer accidentally left his vibrator in with his tool kit.

Man, there were going to be jokes about that... only a tech would do that.

“Everything ok in there, Shepard?” From Garrus' tone, it was clear the turian hadn't realized what he was picking up. “Did I grab the wrong thing?”

Yes.

Still, Alistair sighed to let some of his embarrassment go. In the end, it was his fault. “You could say that. Look for something a little bigger with black duck tape on the handle. It has a head you can move around.”

Garrus found him the right tool without much issue. The Spectre shifted, placing his... other tool... to the side. He flicked the proper equipment on, but then frowned. Even with the head being able to move, there was no way he was going to be able to get it where he wanted without making the rocks bounce around like a child's playpen. Scowling, he turned it off.

“Damn it, it's too big.”

His eyes went to the side, where his vibrator was sitting. It... was pretty small, now that he was looking at it. Everything in him was screaming this was dumb, but he didn't feel like fighting with the proper equipment much longer. So he let that one drop as he picked up his improvised tool. Within seconds, it was vibrating against the pipe as he felt along it.

“So I picked up the right tool after all?” Garrus sounded hopeful. It was kind of cute, but Alistair was too focused on feeling. Halfway along the length, he felt the vibration ping against something. There was a loose pipe section that needed welding back into place.

Well, maybe not at first... but he realized this one was definitely going to be staying in the tool box. Mother, forgive him... but it did the job way better than his actual one, and it was smaller too. Better yet, the damn thing recharged.

Maybe he could test the pulse pattern out next time, that should  be useful in finding different problems...

“Oh, yeah. The big one was too bulky for this job.” Alistair put both at his feet. “I found, by the way. Guess we knocked something loose when we were planet-side.”

“We?” There was a tone to Garrus' voice that made his face heat up. “Last I checked, Shepard, you were the one driving.”

And he did so very well for never having a license, thank you very much.

“Alright, fine, I knocked it loose so I'm fixing it. Just hand me the thing and we can finish this up...”

It was an easy fix after that. Guided by the light of his omni-tool, everything was put back where it belonged and reinforced so it wouldn't happen again. Then the case went back on, and on top it the Mako's armor. It was free to crush some Geth another day.

Alistair wiped off his hands on a rag as he started to put his tools back in the box. The last one to go in was his newest – out of habit he wiped that down too before putting it back and closing the lid. Then he stood up, knees aching from the position he had been in for so long.

At least it was fixed.

“Thanks, Shepard.” Garrus was also wiping off his talons as they left some snickering techs – who knew better than to say anything when he was around, thank you very much – behind to return to the CIC on the Normandy. “I doubt I would've been able to fit in there without you.”

He smiled briefly, reaching out to push the button the elevator so he could put his toolbox away. “Small hands, they're good for something.”

“A lot of small things are. I don't think I've ever seen a tool like the one you used. Where'd you get it from anyway, it didn't look Alliance issued.”

Oh... just a shop on the Normandy that was a little too close to the consort's place for his liking.

Alistair felt the blood rush to his face as he wished the door would open. “It's not. I modified it from something else because I needed something smaller.”

“Mind showing me how to do it some time then?”

Yeah, step 1 – order a small, rechargeable vibrator. Step 2 – forget you left it in your tool box in front of half your crew. Step 3 – realize it's actually pretty good for small jobs and tight areas. Step 4 was the most difficult part of the modification – get over the embarrassment of it all.

He was still working on that one, but it was coming along nicely.

“Yeah, next time we're on the Citadel. I need to pick up another one anyway.”

The doors finally slid open, and Alistair stepped in and sighed in relief as they shut behind him. His omni-tool had started to blare a familiar message pattern. From the sounds of things, his XO was trying to contact him.

Please don't be about -

“Do you seriously keep a vibrator in your toolbox?”

Fuck.

Alistair groaned as he slapped a hand to his forehead. “Well NOW I do, the damn thing is a miracle worker in tight corners.”

“That's what he said.”

Bo was laughing on the other end – she was enjoying this. All Alistair could do was glare at his omni-tool in the hopes hers would malfunction and end the call. Given it was mostly made up of his aftermarket fixes, maybe it should've had a little more respect for him.

But he had fixed it too well for it to just malfunction, so it kept going.

“Please tell me Vakarian knew what he was doing.”

Alistair sighed and ran a hand over the short hairs on the back of his neck. “I'm going to say doubtful, unless turians get off on embarrassing people.”

“Knowing them, they probably do. But hey, you got a new tool out of it.”

Yeah, but he lost his favorite vibrator. Talk about a shitty transfer.

“I liked that one.” He kept his tone short as the door opened up. It was just a short walk to stow his toolbox, then it was back to work. “I'll talk to you later, it looks like Pressly wants me for something.”

Sighing, he ended the call and made a beeline for his office to get rid of the evidence. Then it was back to work as the Normandy's Commanding Officer. Maybe if he was lucky, the whole 'Commander Shepard keeps a vibrator in his tool box' thing wouldn't spread further than the ship.

Oh, who was he kidding. It was probably bouncing around the extranet now. Great. So much for respect for being humanity's first Spectre.

…

Well, at least he got a new tool out of it. He HAD been pretty unhappy with that last one... silver lining, maybe?

[pigeontheoneandonly]

The Price of an Afternoon

Part 3 of my Dragon Age / Mass Effect crossover. I also threw this up on AO3 if that’s more convenient. (Part 4 here.)

Several days later, when Nathaly’s turn to go into town came up, Kaidan met her at the bottom of the hill and declared his intention to tag along.

“No.” Her answer immediate, and expected. “It’s not a good idea.  You could have fled in any direction, but sooner or later, templars are going to search north, and this is the first significant settlement they’ll reach.”

“I understand,” he said, with fraying patience.  “I didn’t let you boost me from the Circle Tower just to wind up staring at cave walls instead.”

“It’s just for a few weeks.  Until we figure out if it’s safe to move.”

“I’m not going to walk into the town square and summon a firestorm.  I just want to…”  He struggled with the words.  “I haven’t seen people in a decade.  Not living real lives, instead of something premeditated and scheduled and assigned before they were born.  I haven’t smelled an apple that wasn’t cooked since I left my parents’ land for the last time.”

She shook her head, stubborn as he remembered.  “Kaidan…”

“I’ll keep my hood up.”  The weather was turning chill, and it would raise no suspicion.  “I won’t even say a word.  I just want to soak up the crowd.  Maybe eat a pie, or something.”

Everything on her face said this was a horrible idea, and she was probably right, but her eyes had softened.  Even in this short-lived reunion, he’d already learned they told the real story. He really liked that about her.  

“Fine,” she said, at last.  “But you’re going to take Ash’s cloak.  It’s far less noticeable than that blue thing of yours.”

She said this dressed herself in a forest green shirt and burnt orange breeches. Even her armor was covered in tooled designs, and he caught her working on more embellishment at odd hours, waiting for the next thing to happen.  That was a revelation.  He never expected her to care much for ornamentation.  

“Don’t worry. Nobody’s going to notice me next to all that.”  He gestured at her, grinning.  

She scoffed, but also seemed rather pleased that he’d noticed.  “Get the damn cloak.”

It was about an hour’s walk into Crestwood proper.  A large village or a small town, depending on particular preference, it bustled in early autumn, the harvest just starting to come in.  Alongside the grain and vegetables in the market were fresh catches from the lake, scales shining silver and green and rainbow-hued, eels, mussels, and even a species of crab.  He’d only seen them in drawings.  Their home village of Kinallen was strictly land-locked.

Fish was naturally a staple of Kinloch Hold, surrounded as it was by a lake.  But he rarely saw it whole like this, still wet, freshly gutted.  Never knew it could smell oddly fresh, clean like the crisp water that bore it.  

Nathaly caught him gawking and laughed, but not at him.  More like she was enjoying his enjoyment.  “Wow, you were going stir-crazy.”

“Only for thirteen years.”  And it was amazing how fast that became a joke.  He’d held himself so tightly for so long that any margin to relax had him spilling all over the place.

She grinned back.  For a moment, he thought she might grab his hand again, like she had on the boat, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted it.  But she walked on.  And then he wasn’t sure he wasn’t disappointed.  Kaidan had worked with lightening as part of the standard curriculum. Standing in her presence felt like summoning a shock, the mild buzz tingling over his skin as he held it ready in his hand.  Exhilarating, but also dangerous.

One thing was sure. He still liked her every bit as much as when they were younger. She still made him laugh and put him at ease with almost effortless aplomb.  And Nathaly hadn’t changed a bit, either.  More confident, maybe, more sure of herself, and definitely ready and able to use that sword.  But still careless and wild.  Like nothing could stop her doing as she willed.  Her father used to call her “our little whirlwind”, because like the dust devils that occasionally raced across their plains, Nathaly rarely gave consideration to anything in her path, tumbling forward for the sheer joy of it.

And sure enough, they’d barely arrived before she was distracted by a different booth, one displaying bolts of cloth and buttons and embroidery floss.  He couldn’t imagine her with a needle in hand, but she bought several skeins.  As she tucked them into her pack, she caught his skeptical stare, and snorted.  “I taught myself leatherworking.  How much harder could this be?”

He rose to the bait.  “What kind of pattern are you thinking?”

“Maybe a little border going around a cuff.  A band of words.”  Delighted by her own idea.  “Fuck, fuck, fuck, in a big circle.”

He laughed, hard enough that the hood started to slide back.  She caught its edge just in time.  “Careful, there.”

“Yeah.” It cast pall over the afternoon, reminding him that he wasn’t truly free, not yet.  Not until the templars had given up hope of finding him and he could walk in the open air without tempting fate.  But this was better than nothing.

She seemed just as eager to not ruin the day.  “Help me figure out what we want to eat.  This needs to last at least four or five days.  Garrus wants to scout west, see if there’s something more permanent for us to move into.”

“Sounds good.”  They wandered back towards the food stalls.

In the midst of picking through a fruit stand, trying to resist the raspberries in favor of something that wouldn’t spoil almost overnight nor get crushed in a knapsack, he felt Nathaly go stiff beside him.  He glanced up.  And then immediately back down to the fruit, trying subtly to pull the hood lower over his face.  A gaggle of Chantry mothers had arrived at the far end of the market.

She bent towards him, urgently.  “We need to finish up and leave.”

“Agreed,” he whispered back.

Then, as he started to move away, snagged his cloak.  “Slowly.  Don’t attract attention.”

A thousand years passed as he waited for her to finish selecting fruit.  Another century or three as she paid the man running the stall. The Chantry mothers roving ever closer, their gossip growing louder.  Kaidan tried not to stare.  But it was next to impossible when it felt like the thread of his life was hanging taut, just waiting for one of them to trip and snap it.

Nathaly piled the remainder of their purchases into his knapsack.  “Walk,” she whispered, as she put her arm around him and steered them towards the western road out of Crestwood.  Then, when he involuntarily tried to look over his shoulder, “Eyes front.  We’re almost in the clear.”

They walked through the stone arch and out of line-of-sight.  Kaidan drew a huge breath.  Nathaly dropped her arm and rubbed her eyes.  “Well, that was something.”

“Yeah, I—”  His eyes went wide.  His throat closed up.

“This was the worst idea,” Nathaly went on, oblivious.  “We’re never doing this again.”

He tried to wet his mouth.  His voice a weak croak.  “Nathaly—”

“And don’t you even start with the ‘I was trapped in a tower for thirteen years’ crap while I’m trying to keep you alive for the next thirteen—”

“Nathaly.” He spun her bodily.

Three templars had paused on the road east of them.  Staring the pair of them down, heads cocked to the side, still confused, focused on him.  Kaidan estimated that would last another moment or two and then they were both dead.

“Shit,” said Nathaly, eloquent as always.  “Maybe they haven’t noticed.”

The templar in the lead put his hand to his hilt and started forward.

Kaidan took a step back.  Wondering why in the hell he let her talk him into leaving his staff in the cave, giveaway or not.  “I think that ship’s sailed.”

“Double shit.”  And then she actually walked towards them.  The blood drained from his face.

She stopped a few paces from the templar group, forcing them to stop also.  “Can I help you?”

One of the templars in the back sniggered.  The leader shot him a tempering glare.  “Are you aware that you are traveling in the company of an apostate?”

Nathaly rested her hands on her hips.  Not retreating an inch.  Kaidan’s guts tried to turn themselves inside out.  “Dunno.  Are you aware that you’re about to make a terrible decision?”    

Outright laughter, unchecked by the templar in charge, who couldn’t suppress a smile himself.  “My dear woman, this… mage is our charge to return to the Circle from which he has fled, as Andraste bid us.  If you insist on standing in our way, we will be forced to remove you.”

“You can damn well try.”  She drew her sword, steel ringing in the autumn afternoon.  Her eyes shifting to each of them in turn.  “But if you do, I’ll kill you all.  There won’t be a final moment’s mercy, letting one of you run off and regroup.  One mage means nothing to you.  You’ve got hundreds.  Is this mage worth your three beating hearts?”

[tinypenguincheesemachine]

Vexing Hexes

Summary: MC, Nik and The Graveyard Shift regulars discuss curses after a few too many drinks. When it’s clear MC has had enough, Nik comes to her rescue.

Pairing: Nik x MC (Klara)

Length: 2,229

Note: Slightly random, but the idea popped into my head after seeing a Reddit thread, and I couldn’t resist. It was a slow day at work, so I spent a while thinking up various ‘minorly inconvenient curses’ to amuse myself (most of which haven’t made the fic as they were, ironically, a bit NSFW). It’s set early on in the book; around chapter two-ish.

                                                   Vexing Hexes

The Graveyard Shift was starting to quieten down. The customers leaving in dribs and drabs until only Klara and her new friends were left. Nik was alone at one end of the bar, nursing a drink, while Ivy and Krom sat together a few seats away. Garrus bustled around them all, cleaning up the now empty tables.

Klara was in a booth on the opposite side of the bar. Just moments before, it had been filled with laughter and conversation from a group of girls out for a night on the town. Klara had noticed them the moment they arrived. Their brashness and carefree attitude drawing her in as they moved confidentially into the bar.

Approaching the table, the round of shots she’d offered had earned her a place in their group. She’d hoped to get lost in their party atmosphere. To pretend there wasn’t a cursed entity out to kill her. That ghosts and goblins and whatever else weren’t real. That she was normal. And it had worked, for a while. Their fast-paced banter and acceptance grounding Klara, allowing her to stay in the moment with them. Until they left, Leaving Klara in a bar with a nighthunter, an undead goth, a member of the fae and a troll.

It was like the beginning of a bad joke, she thought mirthlessly. Knocking back the last of her drink, Klara sets the empty tumbler on the table, wincing at the loud bang. Looking up, she can see Krom and Ivy glance over at her and feels her gut clench uncomfortably. She has nothing against them – quite the opposite, in fact – but they were a visual reminder of her recent upheaval. As he meets her eyes, Krom turns away, but Ivy smiles at her, beckoning her over.

Klara hesitates, her eyes briefly sweeping over the empty seats around her. Shaking her head, she hauls herself up from her seat, only to trip over the table leg. She only just catches herself – her hand gripping a nearby chair as her vision swims in front of her. Maybe that last round was a mistake, Klara thinks, smiling wryly even as she feels her ears grow hot. Fidgeting, she straightens her clothes, running her suddenly sweaty hands over the thighs of her jeans before she feels steady enough to move.

Thankfully, she makes it to the bar without further incident and falls into the seat beside Ivy. There’s a sudden silence and a shifting in seats as she sits, an atmosphere that speaks of a swift end to a conversation that Klara hopes was not about her. Feeling hot, Klara clenches her hands against her legs. She doesn’t think she could take anyone asking after her right now. Quickly, before Ivy can ask how she’s feeling, Klara spits out the first thing that comes to her.

“If you were going to curse someone, what would you curse them with? Not a big curse. It would be more of a mild inconvenience. Like…” casting her eyes around the room, Klara snorts as sees the booth she’s just came from. “Always tripping over when you stand up!”

She knows she’s rambling; and worse yet, slurring her words. Knows it’s probably inappropriate to discuss curses with someone who gave up most of her life to save the world only to end up ‘undead’. It’s why she can’t quite meet Ivy’s eyes and faces the bar instead.

Thankfully, Ivy doesn’t take offence. When she laughs, Klara’s head snaps up to look at her, a small smile on her face. “That’s a hard one,” Ivy muses. “What do you think?” She asks Krom, her purple eyes shining with amusement.

Krom tilts his head, his gaze moving from Ivy to Klara as he mulls it over. “What if, their hands were always sticky?”

“Hand sanitizer would fix that!” Garrus interjects, winking at Krom. “What about this: they always take the wrong information down. Phone numbers, orders…that type of thing. No matter how much they check and double-check, it’s always just a little wrong.”

“Oooh, that’s evil!” Klara crows, delightedly. Garrus grins at her, clearly pleased.

“Getting an itch, just when you get comfortable,” Ivy adds, her head nodding in emphasis. “I used to hate that.”

“Road works or a flat tire whenever you really need to be somewhere,” Klara suggests, laughing.

“Or the bus or train breaking down if you don’t drive,” Krom adds, smiling.

“And it’s raining!” Garrus calls out.

“What about,” Nik declares loudly. “What about, an eye floater that never goes away.”

“They’d always be twitching,” Klara says, her tone thoughtful.

Titling his glass in her direction, Nik grins, crookedly. “Exactly, rookie.”

“Hmm,” Ivy muses. “People always mistaking them for someone else, but not in a good way.”

“Or mistaking other people for someone they know. They’d always end up being embarrassed.” Krom adds.

“Oh, I know!” Klara exclaims, almost bouncing in her seat in excitement. “No matter how much you straighten your hair; it’s always frizzy!” Sitting back, she grins at all of them, clearly pleased with herself, until a small frown creases her forehead. “And vice-versa, of course.”

Laughing, Ivy raises an eyebrow at Klara. “That’s your ultimate mild inconvenience?”

“You have to admit it’s frustrating?” Klara defends, and she can’t help but run a hand through her hair distractedly.

“Yeah, I go through that every day.” Nik deadpans.

“We can tell,” Garrus says, looking pointedly at Nik’s hair. Nik merely rolls his eyes, refusing to take the bait.

“These curses,” Nik starts, turning to Klara. “Are they petty on principle?”

Opening her eyes wide, Klara gasps. “You think our ideas are petty?” She asks, using her hand to cover her mouth with an audible slap. At seeing Nik’s shocked expression, Klara has to bite her lip to stop herself from laughing. Not being much of an actress. However, the look of shock is short-lived, quickly turning into a scowl.

Grinning cheekily, Klara winks at him. “Less petty, more of a vexing hex.” Klara giggles at this, delighted at her attempt at a pun.

“A vexing hex?” Nik repeats. His jaw works a moment as if sounding the phrase out. “You drunk, rook?”

Taken aback, Klara momentarily tries to catalogue what she’s drunk, quickly losing count. The group of girls she had sat with were big on shots, she knows that much.

Seeing her confusion, Garrus smirks at her. “I’d be surprised if you weren’t. Your friends seemed to be making their way through the drinks menu.”

“Eh,” Klara shrugs. Placing her hands on the bar, she pushes herself to her feet. Or at least, tries to. The sudden motion makes her stagger, her hip banging against her stool, making it rattle against the floor. Looking up to see the others staring, Klara’s hands twitch at her side as she fights the urge to bury her face in her hands. “Ok, maybe I’m a little drunk.” She concedes, her ears burning once more, and she knows her face has gone blotchy in embarrassment.

Ivy smiles at her reassuringly while Garrus chuckles. Hearing a snort, Klara glances at Nik to see him shaking his head. Downing the last of his drink, he stands up. “It’s getting late,” Nik states, beckoning for Klara to follow him.

He doesn’t even look, just expects her to follow. Feeling her mouth go dry, Klara scowls. Was she at his beck and call now? They’d only just met. He had no right to tell her what to do. She wasn’t the one who hired him, after all. If that story was even true.

“It’s not that late,” Klara challenges. Wincing as her words come out more petulant than she’d hoped for.

Nik raises his eyebrow, his lip twitching into a small smirk, and Klara can hear a rushing in her ears as her pulse races. Is she a joke to him? She thinks. Her fists clenching at her sides as she envisions slapping the smirk from his face.

It’s then Klara notices that Ivy, Krom and Garrus have averted their eyes, busying themselves with other things and avoiding her gaze. Relaxing her hands, Klara sighs as she runs a hand over her face, her anger quickly fading. She can’t remember the last time she felt so worn out. Looking up at Nik, she sees him watching her, his face unreadable. “You’re right,” she says, smiling ruefully. “It is late.”

Face still passive, Nik holds his hand out to her once more, watching her carefully. ‘C’mon, rook.” His tone is almost pleading, and it makes Klara’s decision for her.

Walking towards him, Klara stumbles a little; her ankle turning over and sending her lurching to one side. She’s stopped from falling by Krom’s quick reflexes as he grabs her arm. He holds onto her, making sure she has her footing before letting go.

She can barely meet Krom’s eyes as she stutters through her ‘thank you,’ and it amazes her that she can go from never wanting to leave the bar from wanting the whole building to disappear around her in such a short space of time.

Ducking her head, Klara watches her feet in concentration as she closes the distance between herself and Nik, each step feeling like she’s wading through mud. Thankfully, she makes it there without further incident, Nik’s calloused hand coming up to clasp her arm tightly.

Klara tenses momentarily but relaxes as Nik squeezes her arm in reassurance. She murmurs her goodbyes as Nik calls out his goodnights, and then they’re heading out, Nik leading her gently beside him, keeping her steady and upright. With his guidance, Klara’s steps feel a little less cumbersome, but she still stumbles as they come to the stairs, her toes jarring painfully as they hit the riser, forcing her to lurch forward.

How many times can I trip in one night? Klara thinks, as Nik’s arm snakes, it’s way around her waist to pull her close. She allows herself to lean against him, her head on his shoulder as he hauls them up the rest of the stairs. Her eyes start to close half-way up, their heaviness getting harder to fight as everything seems to blur around her.

They come to a halt in front of the door to Nik’s apartment, and Klara can hear Nik curse under his breath as he struggles to get the keys and open the door. Taking in a breath through her nose, Klara hums a little as she lifts her head. “Do you need a hand?” It comes out mumbled, masked heavily with sleep and Klara clears her throat to try again.

Nik chuckles dryly, his arm tightening against her. “I think I’ve got it.”

Humming happily as the door opens, Klara settles back against Nik, her hand coming up to grasp at his jacket as she nuzzles into his neck.

“Klara!” Strangely, Nik’s voice comes out strangled, and Klara’s head snaps up, her eyes wide as she scans the room.

“What’s wrong?” Klara asks as she turns from the empty room to face Nik.

His eyes are on her, his gaze travelling over her face, searching…but for what? The thought makes Klara frown as her mind races, struggling to clear the drunken fog that’s settled over her. They’re close, close enough for Klara to smell the alcohol on his breath and as the moment drags on, it builds with an intensity that Klara knows is important but can’t quite grasp.

“Nothin’,” he smiles, breaking eye contact with a small sigh. “It doesn’t matter.”

Although she smiles back, Klara feels a sense of loss fill her. Her confusion making her hold tighten on Nik’s jacket.

“You can have the bed,” he announces, smiling crookedly at her. “The couch ain’t good to wake up on if you have a hangover.”

Klara opens her mouth to argue, but the thought of sleeping in an actual bed, with a mattress and pillows soon takes its hold, stilling her tongue. “You sure?” She asks.

Raising an eyebrow, Nik chuckles as he guides her into the bedroom, squeezing her waist once more. “What kinda gentleman would I be if I let you sleep on the couch…again.”

Klara merely snorts, allowing herself to be led through the apartment as her mind focuses on thoughts of sheets and covers and sweet, sweet sleep. When they get to the bedroom, Klara detaches herself from Nik to throw herself onto the bed, snuggling into the pillow and groaning in delight.

“Dammit, Klara. At least take your boots off!”

Klara hears Nik’s scolding, but it sounds too far away to bother with, so she turns her face further into the pillow, hoping to block him out completely. Her breathing soon evens out, and she can feel herself tottering on the edge of sleep. When she feels the bed dipping, she thinks it’s the effects of the alcohol, making the room feel spinny and out of place. But dizziness doesn’t usually take the boots off her feet, handling her legs with care and placing them back on the bed. It doesn’t normally brush the hair tenderly from her face and cover her with a spare blanket before placing a warm kiss on her forehead.

The stubble scratching lightly against her skin and the lingering smell of alcohol and Nikness gives the game away. Leaving a happy smile on Klara’s face as Nik leaves the room.

[queen-scribbles]

Something Simple

Art trade fic from a few months back for @commander-sarah I found it in my google docs today and realized I hadn’t posted it yet. It’s post-trilogy Shenko fluff, so that just had to be rectified.

---

Today had been hard. Good, but hard.

“Hey, K?” Miranda began, not even bothering to open her eyes as she slouched down on the sofa until she could rest her feet on the coffee table.

“Yeah?” The sofa shifted as Kaidan sat next to her.

“Next time I suggest having friends over the same day I have PT, please slap me.” She wiggled her toes, feeling the sparks of lingering pain in her bad leg. “I love Ash and Garrus, but that was... pushing it a little.”

Kaidan chuckled. “They wear you out, Shepard?”

“Nah, Trish wore me out in fuckin’ PT,” Miranda corrected around a yawn. “They just sealed the deal.”

“Losing that much at Skyllian Five would be exhausting,” he said teasingly.

She opened one eye to glare at him, but it lacked heat. “You didn’t make out much better than I did, Alenko. You don’t really have room to talk.”

“But I did make out better,” Kaidan smirked in amusement. “So there is a little room to talk.” He reached over and tucked Miranda’s hair behind her ear before it could slide in her eyes. “But I will remind you next time.”

“Thanks. I think it’s partially this place,” she mused. “It’s a great apartment, but it feels kinda... small when we have company. So then I worry about being in the way with having my leg up and that’s tiring after a while.”

“So what’s your ideal place, then?” Kaidan asked idly, slipping his hand into hers and interlacing their fingers.

“Bigger than this, smaller than your parents’ orchard,” Miranda said after a moment’s thought. “We don’t need that much space. I don’t know what I’d do with it, honestly,” she admitted, free hand playing with her necklace. “I grew up  a military brat, I’m used to small quarters. But something with enough space for me to leave out my guns when I’m working on them”--a meaningful look toward the footlockers wedged in the corner behind the Christmas tree--”multiple bedrooms in case of company. A nice kitchen, so you can make me more of your Canadian delicacies,” she teased.

“Wow, so, you want the whole deal, M?” he deadpanned. “House, dog...” he briefly lifted heir joined hands. “Ring.”

“If it’s you offering, then, yeah,” Miranda nodded. “I do.”

“And if I was, what kind would you want?” he probed, sitting back on the couch and absently rubbing his thumb over her knuckles.

“Which one?” she asked, amused.

“You just did house, so.. both of the others, I guess.”

“Lots of dogs, all kinds of dogs,” Miranda smiled. “We could just go clear out some shelter, adopt every dog they have, and I’d be happy. As for ring... nothing fancy, that’s for sure. Stones are too likely to snag on shit, so just a band of some sort.” She fought the urge to smirk at his expression; focused and earnest, clearly making mental notes. “Something simple.”

“Simple, right.” Kaidan nodded. “Makes sense.” He yawned. “Damn, you got me doing it too.”

“Maybe it’s time for bed,” Miranda said glibly, making no move to get off the couch.

“Maybe it is,” Kaidan agreed easily. He kissed the back of her hand before letting go and pushed to his feet. “C’mon. It’ll be more comfortable than the couch.”

Miranda just grunted at him. He was right and she knew it, but right now she was plenty comfortable where she was.

“Oh, it’s snowing,” Kaidan commented, glancing toward the window.

Miranda swiveled to look, but her angle was wrong from the couch. “K, if you’re lying to get me up off the couch, I’m making you sleep on the floor.”

“Swear to God, Shepard,” he promised.

Miranda let out a sigh and levered herself upright, almost toppling as she tried to balance on just her good leg. She very deliberately ignored the crutches leaning against the wall and hobble-hopped until she could see out the window. It was indeed snowing. “Hope that sticks around til Tuesday.”

“Pretty sure it will,” Kaidan said, watching the fluffy white flakes drifting from the sky. “This is the kind that sticks around once it builds up, and the weather’s supposed to stay chilly between now and then.” He shot her an amused look. “You want a white Christmas, M?”

“Hell yeah, I do,” she laughed, watching the snow. “It’s my first one, I wanna hit all the fuckin’ cliches from Earth vids we can.”

“Duly noted,” Kaidan grinned. “Now, I believe you said something about bed?”

“I did,” Miranda laughed, and followed him down the hall.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Kaidan’s prediction proved correct; the snow did stick around for Christmas. Enough so, in fact,  to make their neighborhood picturesque as a greeting card. Miranda was thrilled, which Kaidan promptly teased her for. She was too excited to care, curled up on the sofa in a snuggly warm sweater and mismatched Christmasy socks, her one concession to ‘holiday spirit’ wardrobe-wise.

“You can tease me later, Alenko,” she laughed, whacking the couch cushion next to her. “Sit your ass down and let’s do presents.”

Kaidan chuckled as he complied. “Impatient, are we, M?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.” Miranda grinned. “I got you the best present ever and I wanna see you open it.”

“Oh, well, we’ll see about that,” he ribbed, something serious yet mischievous in his eyes.

She almost called him on it, but the opted to instead reach over and snag the small box with his present from under the Christmas tree. “Merry Christmas, K,” she said, grinning like a kid in a candy store as she handed it over.

Kaidan was half-smiling even before he had the clumsily-done wrapping stripped off. It turned into a full smile of flat-out astonishment when he saw the small metallic case. “Alright, Shepard, who did you threaten or blackmail or whatever to get this?”

“That’s hurtful,” Miranda said with a laugh, miming a hand over her heart as she watched him pull the slim black omnitool band from its resting place. “I just reminded a couple of Saronis Applications board members of the part we both played in saving the Citadel a few years back and the damn galaxy far more recently, pointed out it would probably boost sales even more to say one of the Spectres used their latest tech, and there ya go.”

“You were diplomatic for me?” Kaidan smirked. “I’m touched.” He secured the omnitool to his wrist and tapped it to life, glancing admiringly over the readouts before closing it down. “It looks great, M. Now.” He reached down next to his side of the couch and pulled up a box, both larger and better wrapped than her gift had been. “Your turn.”

“Already trying to outdo me?” she teased, tucking back her hair before tugging on the vibrant red ribbon tied around the box. “This is almost a work of art, K. You get to wrap all the birthday present from here on out.”

“Only if you buy all the birthday presents from here on out,” he countered with a smile that belied his nervously fidgeting hands.

“Deal,” Miranda agreed promptly, tugging away the wrapping paper. She could handle brightly lit and noisy stores so he wouldn’t have to if he would handle the wrapping so she didn’t have to. She carefully opened the box-

And found another box, just as neatly wrapped as the first one. She narrowed her eyes at Kaidan. “You bastard.”

“That would sound a lot more intimidating if you weren’t laughing,” Kaidan said, grin plastered across his face. “Keep going.”

Inside that box, there was another box. Miranda balled up the paper and threw it at him before opening that box. To find another box. “Kaidan-!”

“Just one more, I promise,” he cut her off.

Miranda gave a long-suffering sigh and very dramatically opened the last box. Inside was another box. Only this one was small, velvet, and instantly recognizable. Miranda’s head snapped up and she raised an eyebrow at Kaidan. “Really?”

He nodded, grinning wide. “Really.”

“You wanna shackle yourself to this hot mess forever?” she joked, gesturing at herself and wiggling the toes of her bad foot for emphasis.

“Longer,” Kaidan said, still grinning as he reached over at took the box from her. He flicked it open to reveal--as requested--a simple platinum band, gleaming against its red velvet cushion. “Miranda, will you-”

“Yes.”

“Dammit, will you let me finish the question, Shepard?” he laughed.

“Sorry.” Miranda’s voice lacked any hint of an apology. She folded her hands in her lap and shot him a mischievously expectant look. “Ask away, Major.”

“Miranda, will you marry me?”

“Oh, hell yes!” she said fervently, pulling him into a fierce and passionate kiss before even giving him a chance to slide the ring on her finger, a fact he rectified when they broke apart for air. “‘Bout damn time,” Miranda teased softly.

“Oh, hush, you,” Kaidan laughed, and kissed her again.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“So,” Miranda began, after several more minutes of making out that almost landed them on the floor at least twice. “For Ash’s party tonight... do we tell people, or just wait from them to notice on their own?” She held out her hand, looking at the ring again.

“Oh, definitely option B,” Kaidan said, capturing her hand to press a kiss against her palm. “It’ll be more fun that way. And we have observant friends; the cat’ll be out of the bag pretty quick.”

“I like the way you think,” she chuckled, tracing his jawline with her fingers. “I might kiss you for that.”

“Hang on, I have to check with my fiancée,” Kaidan deadpanned, barely holding back another grin. “Should make sure it’s alright with her before I kiss a war hero.”

“I think it’s okay,” Miranda whispered, moving in for the promised kiss. “Very okay.” She linked her hands against the back of his neck, the cool metal of her ring making both of them grin.

Kaidan had very clearly won this Christmas, Miranda conceded to herself as she kissed her fiance breathless, but that was alright. There was always next year.

And all the years after it.

[meggannn]

ironically one of my favorite things about shepard/garrus is one of the things i think bioware did least successfully, at least for my personal taste. and i admit this is mostly cause i prefer developing/reading professional or emotionally reserved sheps (at least on the surface) who gradually open up to their li over time, over sheps who wear their heart on their sleeves from the beginning, and there are very few bw romances that really allow you to play that first kind of character, considering you, the pc, have to instigate the romance dialogue. there’s only so much a game can do to mimic a ‘real’ romance after all. even so i do prefer a bit of, if not subtlety, then.... tactfulness, i guess, when the pc pops the question, especially with a character like shepard who is so duty-focused and (until the proposing scene) never really indicated they were driven by their libido when looking for a partner (even if they were joking). so that “do you wanna bang” scene gives me such second hand embarrassment i gotta rewrite most of their entire me2 romance in my head and one day i’ll put it to a fic, but in the meantime...... i’ll just blab about it on tumblr dot com i guess....

like, i like the VIBE that is established. i like that in me2, we get confirmation that: a) garrus’s confidence in personal matters is absolutely nil when it comes to romance, much less an interracial romance; b) it sets up a real sweet theme of realizing they actually DONT know that much about each other’s culture or biology or anything related to their race, and the romance is staged to give them each time to do research on the other’s biology and anatomy (which is practical and common courtesy and the right thing to do! and also a little sweet when you consider how terrified garrus is of screwing it up!), c) however it started, whether facetiously or nervously or enthusiastically, these two are still able to have a nice moment together and acknowledge there are feelings between them that can (and if you ask me, do) still go unsaid. and in me3, we see them both (or at least garrus) in a bit more emotionally stable situation, maybe driven by a desire to see something go right in the middle of the war, so we establish a) garrus is still nervous and treading cautiously, but b) confident enough to prepare for a reunion, to articulate his questions about their relationship, to let shepard know he’s there for them regardless, and c) if you confirm the relationship, shepard and garrus can tease each other as friends and work together as soldiers and still have a supportive emotional/intimate partnership in their private time. 

i just think you can have all of these angles to their relationship without the current get-together. imo you lose a lot of possible development and depth when you start all of this by having shepard walk in and say “heyyyyyyy let’s you and me ‘‘‘ease some tension’’’ together ;) :) ;) do you see me winking”, like.... how does a commanding officer say that to another adult they respect and (possibly) genuinely like, idk. it seemed like such a lazy way for the writers to get them into bed together without considering who these people are. and yeah, every shepard’s different, it’s possible someone found that very ic for their shepard. personally i’ve always been more of a fan of piecing together canon clues to tell me who the pc is and extrapolating an oc from there, and what most of canon tells me, is that shepard is someone who prioritizes duty (either to the alliance, or to saving innocents, or to just getting the job done) above nearly all else, including their own personal life. that doesn’t mean i don’t see shepard being an instigator or an occasional flirt. just......

bleh. is it too much to want a better get together than “let’s fuck”? idk. i feel like a whiner bc shepard/garrus is obviously the most popular pairing in the fandom, it dwarfs so many others in content and you can’t throw a stone without meeting an insufferable stan, and here i am complaining about it not being done my way. i guess i just feel like the writers listened to the fans who wanted garrus as an li from me1, but didn’t listen to why. they drew the shortest line between a and b (“they want to bone the alien? here you go, i guess!”) and left it at that.

i mean admittedly, left up to me, i’d stuff so much drawn-up pining into a canon shepard/garrus get-together that neither of them would be able to breathe through the ust. there’s a line i like in kaidan’s romance (not to hijack a shenko line for a shakarian thing, but it’s something i find so true to shepard’s character i adopt it for my shepard too, even though i don’t romance kaidan and save ashley) when shepard tells kaidan in the moment that she needs a shoulder, not a subordinate, and kaidan says “cut me a little slack, shepard, it’s not like you’re easy to read.” that is how i tend to play and read shepard: as someone who is emotionally available for their crew but plays things close to the vest with their own feelings. paired up with garrus, who is a better turian than he thinks and is pretty goal-oriented and professional under shepard’s command, it’s hard for me to believe these two would just fall into bed with each other after only one or two conversations of known build-up (stressing “known” here is as “acknowledged feelings” but could also be notable ust, which is my hc). in my reading, these two are much better at reading others (c-sec and officer training) than themselves, and one could argue are duty-driven enough to maybe not even bring up/realize their attraction until me3 (why couldn’t garrus have been an li in me3 for new romances or mshep!!!! who tf knows!!!!!)

all those times femshepard tells garrus she loves him in me3? not really my shepard’s style..... how’s an earthborn kid who’s been a marine all their adult life and never had a family or serious relationship know how to recognize and admit love out loud? garrus himself doesn’t tell shepard he loves them till the beam run, and even then, he barely whispers it. i have to turn my freaking speakers up just to hear him. it’s hard for him to say out loud. maybe turians have different language for it, or maybe there’s a stigma, or maybe the culture’s different. i dunno! but i keep thinking about the impact it would’ve had for that to be the first time shepard says it, too. like they’ve just realized it and want to get it out because they know it’s the end. or you could get away with not saying it at all, if you pick the renegade option. or you could have them try to say it and fail! come on, isn’t that sadder?

shepard wants to say -- she doesn’t know what she wants to say. whatever great emotion she’s been holding back since that night in her cabin is stuck in her throat and refuses to form. the bay door can’t remain open for long. garrus’s skull is caked with dark blue blood, his leg bent awfully, and shepard sees a sharp, snapped edge to his armor where his spur used to be. he should be in the med bay. he needs medical attention more than he needs to be wasting time saying goodbyes.

but he won’t go, he refuses, he won’t leave her be. “shepard -- i’m still good. just give me my gun. i can still fight.” blood dribbles into his eye from a crack in his forehead. he’s crouching so low to stand that he nearly meets her height. she’s never heard him plead before.

“vakarian -- ” her voice is hoarse when she talks; her throat burns. she’s been shouting all day. she’s surprised she can still talk at all. “don’t make me give you an order.”

“that’s not fair.” he laughs desperately, a bit disbelieving. half of his visor is dangling, interface dead; his armor scorched and chipped across the carapace; and his eyes, still, are locked on hers. “don’t -- shepard. please.” she’s ever heard him plead before.

“shepard,” tali says quietly under garrus’s arm. her helmet is cracked, badly, suit ruptured in a dozen places. but shepard hasn’t heard a single complaint from her, from either of them, and she realizes in this moment that she can’t let them go on. if they followed her, they’d follow her through hell again, follow her until they dropped, and she cannot abide by that.

“we’re in this -- ” garrus coughs, badly. fresh dark blood spits up from his throat; spots hit shepard’s chestpiece. his eyes water. “we’re in this ‘till the end. shepard.”

she’s never pleaded in her life either; she will not start now. “i need.” her voice is too hoarse, too quiet; he can’t hear her over the roar of the thrusters. she swallows, tries again. “i need to know people are getting out of this alive. i need you to be one of them.” to tali: “both of you.”

garrus stares at her, lost for words. “shepard,” he whispers. he looks prepared to say something great, and she readies herself for another argument -- but then she sees the moment the fight leaves his eyes, the moment lays down his gun, and she hates herself for being relieved. “just,” he says, “make sure that includes you too.”

harbinger roars in the distance; she glances to the great white beam heading their way, then back to the bleeding pair of them, waving firmly toward the ship as she moves off the gangplank. “go! tali -- take care of him!”

she realizes belatedly that those will be logged as her final words, and the last he’ll remember her by. and then he’s gone, and so is the normandy. the moment is over and she’s missed her chance. she thinks, garrus will understand. he couldn’t say it either.

i mean that’s garbage but i like it better than shepard dropping the l-word in every romance scene! fuck! i just want a little nuance ok leave me alone

[florencemeivey]

I’m Proud of You (Chapter 3 of Somewhere Down the Line)

Several weeks passed before Shepard could begin to walk unaided. Even still, she was stiff, slow, and wobbly- she wasn’t storming battlefields any time soon. However, the hospital staff was pleased with her progress, and told her they would be discharging her soon. Shepard couldn’t wait, and her palpable excitement was an amusement to Garrus and the rest of her friends, who continued to visit individually when Shepard was not in therapy. 

Garrus had explained Shepard’s decision and the other options that had been available to her to the group while Shepard talked with Joker alone. Most of them, like Garrus, agreed that destruction was the best option. They sympathised with Joker, and understood his frustration; however, even the few who thought the other options were more attractive agreed that they were happy that Shepard was alive because of her choice, and none argued against her. 

“I could try talking to him for you,” Liara offered on one of her visits.

Shepard shook her head, and sipped the special asari tea Liara had brought for her. “No, don’t. I don’t want him angry at you, either.” She looked out the window and sighed. “It was my choice. And he has a right to be angry with me.”

Liara touched Shepard’s arm comfortingly. “Shepard, I’m sorry you ever had to make such a choice. I know it doesn’t help much, but I’m proud of you. We all are.” She smiled, a little sadly. “We will all miss EDI. But I think she’d be happy knowing her sacrifice meant the destruction of the Reapers.”

“I suppose we’ll never know.” Shepard replied, and Liara had no answer for this. Instead, she changed the subject.

“I’m sure you must be happy seeing Garrus again,” She said, a playful hint in her voice. “I know he was happy to see you. When we got the news, he practically ran from the Normandy to your hospital and shouted for them to let him see you.”

“That’s not true,” Garrus protested from his perch across the room, false indignation in his voice. “I walked at a perfectly normal pace, and when I got there, politely asked that I be permitted to see you.”

“Uh-huh,” Liara replied, smirking. “It didn’t help anyway. Only the immediate people helping you and the higher ups in the Alliance knew who you were. The poor receptionist must have been terrified out of her mind, a turian in the waiting room screaming about needing to see Commander Shepard.” 

Shepard cracked a grin and raised her eyebrows at Garrus. “Screamed huh?” 

“Well, I might have gotten a little loud there,” Garrus conceded. “But,” he added hastily. “What about you Liara? You certainly didn’t sit idly by.”

“Yeah, what about you, Liara?” Shepard said, turning to face her. “Something about telling my boss that Garrus was madly in love with me and needed to see me asap?”

Liara stuck her nose primly in the air. “I know nothing of the sort.”

Garrus rolled his eyes. “Sure, Madam Shadow Broker.”

Wrex and Grunt visited together. Shepard got the feeling that Grunt had become something of Wrex’s right-hand man. Furthermore, they both agreed that Shepard had done the right thing.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Wrex told Shepard, thumping her on the back. “Those pyjaks needed to be taken down.” He shoved some of the snacks he had supposedly brought for Shepard into his mouth. “‘Course, I would agree with whatever you chose. You cured the damn genophage! Joker will get over it.”

“I don’t know about that,” Shepard sighed. “He loved EDI.”

“Bah!” Was all Wrex had to say about the matter.

“Maybe we could find him a krogan girl,” Grunt volunteered. “She might break him, though.” He added, as an afterthought.

“That would certainly put a damper on their relationship.” Garrus remarked drily. 

“Anyways, how’s Bakara?” Shepard asked, changing the subject.

Wrex claimed more of the snacks. Talking with his mouth open, he replied, “Already bore our baby, a son! That’s why she couldn’t come, though she told me to tell you she’s happy you’re alive.”

“A son! Congrats, Wrex,” Shepard said, punching Wrex lightly in the arm. “What’s his name?”

Wrex scowled. “Mordin. Couldn’t talk her out of it. Still,” he admitted, “there are worse names. Like Grunt here.” He punched Grunt, who punched him back. “And he did help cure the genophage, even if he was a salarian.”

“To Mordin,” Garrus said suddenly, raising the glass of water he had been drinking.

“To Mordin,” Shepard echoed, raising her own glass.

“To Mordin!” Wrex and Grunt yelled, waving their snacks since they didn’t have a drink.

“I guess some salarians are okay,” Wrex mused, and the group continued their conversation, reminiscing on Mordin Solus and voicing hopes for the future of Urdnot Mordin. 

Kaidan, Steve, and Samatha visited as a group, representing the Alliance part of Shepard’s crew, besides Joker, anyhow. They brought along greetings from  Dr. Chakwas, who was busy directing the medical and recovery efforts, and Engineer Adams, who had decided to retire early after the excitement of the war. They also brought news; Donelly and Daniels had eloped!

“They’re on their honeymoon now,” Kaidan said, “But they wanted you to know that they knew you’d make it out alive, no matter what.” 

“They’re so cute together,” Samantha sighed. “I hope someday I can find a love like that.”

“There’s a lot of gay bars here in London,” Steve replied. “Most have been rebuilt by now. Maybe we could go together.”

“If Traynor doesn’t take you up on that, I might,” Kaidan told Steve. She might have imagined it, but Shepard thought she felt a flicker of something pass between the two men. However, it was quickly gone.

“Well, good for them,” Shepard said, smiling. She still remembered convincing Donelly to go for it, and catching the two in the sub deck. 

“It's too bad about EDI and Joker though,” Kaidan thought aloud, in an absent-minded tone. Steve elbowed Kaidan in warning, but it was too late. Shepard hung her head as the others looked on in worry.

“Yeah...it is.” Shepard murmured. Kaidan opened his mouth, perhaps to apologize, but thought better of it. For a moment there was only an awkward silence.

“Commander,” Samantha finally ventured, “Commander, you know how much I liked EDI. We all did. She was a part of the crew, even before she got a body. We made sure to put her name up on the Memorial Wall too.” She paused, then continued on softly, “She won’t be forgotten. Her sacrifice, and the sacrifice of all synthetic life, won’t be forgotten.”

Shepard looked away, and her crew gave her the time she needed. Finally, she spoke, in a voice that was admirably only a little strangled. “The first thing I do when I go back to the Normandy will be to visit the Memorial Wall. To honor EDI, Anderson, everyone on our crew who sacrificed their lives.” She paused, and managed a small smile. “And after, we’re going to throw the biggest celebration party this galaxy has ever seen.”

“Here, here!” Garrus intoned, placing his hand on Shepard’s shoulder. 

“Will it be anything like the Citadel party? Because I might need to work on my alcohol tolerance if so,” Traynor joked.

“Bigger than that,” Shepard replied, with a true grin breaking across her freckled face. 

“You know I’m down,” Kaidan said grinning. “And in the Normandy, there’s no neighbors to complain about the noise, this time.”

“And if we really want to feel the liquor, we can always turn the gravity off,” Steve added. 

The group laughed, and the conversation changed to a light-hearted discussion of the future party they all felt was much deserved and a long time coming.

Tali, on one of her visits, brought a gift. 

“I made these for you, Shepard,” she said, a little shyly, and deposited the gift in Shepard's lap. It was wrapped like a Christmas present, bow and all.

“Oh, uh, thanks Tali,” Shepard responded, a little taken aback. “It’s not even my birthday yet.” 

“Consider it a “Welcome Back From Your Coma” gift,” Tali told her, crossing her arms.

Shepard chuckled. “Ah, that’s better than a birthday anyhow.” She tore open the wrapping, noting with fondness the clumsy job that had been done. Wrapping was hard even for humans. Under the wrapping was a box, and when Shepard opened the lid, her breath caught in her throat. She pulled the gifts out of the box and held them in her palm. Sitting there were life-like miniatures of Legion and EDI.

“I know it’s not the same thing,” Tali began awkwardly, twisting her hands, “but I thought you might like them, for your cabin, once you come back. I made them myself. They feature tiny internal VI’s from the technology I managed to salvage and restore while stuck on the Normandy. I programmed them to replicate EDI and Legion’s individual personalities, as best as I could. If you press the button on the back, they speak.” 

Her hands feeling heavy, Shepard pressed the tiny button on miniature Legion’s back. His head light flickered on, and the unmistakable voice of Legion stated, “Shepard-Commander.” 

With an expression of wonder, she then pressed EDI’s button. Her small limbs moved to clasp her hands behind her back. “Commander Shepard, the Normandy is running at optimal capacity.”

Garrus gave a low whistle. “It’s like a blast from the past. You really outdid yourself, Tali.” 

“Yes you did,” Shepard agreed. She swallowed hard and turned to Tali, who looked nervous even though Shepard could not see her face. “Thank you,” Shepard told her, her voice heavy with sincerity. “I’ll treasure this forever.” 

“I wish I could bring the real ones back,” Tali replied, “but this is the best I could do.”

“It’s enough,” Shepard assured Tali. For a long time the trio sat and listened quietly to the two miniatures in Shepard’s palm, the ghosts of the past.

Miranda and Jacob came to visit a few times, and the last time, they came together, along with Brynn, and her and Jacob’s newborn baby.

“Carrie Hope Taylor,” Jacob announced proudly, as he placed the baby gently into Shepard’s arms.

“She’s beautiful,” Shepard remarked admiringly, rocking the sleeping baby girl. Garrus leaned over Shepard’s shoulder and traced his finger over the baby’s cheek, admiring the smoothness. 

“I can’t believe you looked like this at one time, Shepard.” Garrus said in wonder. “So small and...soft.”

“You look like a natural there, Shepard,” Brynn teased. “You both do.”

“Yeah, any little hybrid babies in your guys’ future?” Jacob asked with a grin. “Fatherhood is one of the best experiences in life,” He told Garrus. “It feels great.”

“Biology likely wouldn’t allow that,” Miranda stated bluntly. Then, seeing Jacob and Brynn’s face, added hastily, “But adoption would work for sure.”

Garrus and Shepaed exchanged a look, and Jacob and Miranda were astonished to see their tough former crewmates blush.

“Well, actually, we kind of talked about that before the final battle,” Garrus ventured. He looked at Shepard, then quickly looked away, his face plates tinted a deep blue. “Very briefly, though.” He added hastily. 

“I said the same thing as you Miranda, that adoption might be better. If, you know, the uh, “natural” way doesn’t work.” Shepard added, her voice getting quieter as she went on. A blush spread over her cheeks and up to her hairline, making her whole head appear red, as she looked anywhere other than Garrus. 

Jacob laughed out loud, crowing, “Shepard, Garrus, are you guys blushing?” Miranda didn’t laugh, but she still looked amused.

Brynn frowned at her partner, and smacked his arm to quiet him. “I think that’s very sweet, Commander. And I think you two will make lovely parents, however you happen to become them.”

Miranda shook her head. “You two as parents,” she murmured. “I never would have imagined.” She smiled then, though Shepard thought it looked a little sad. “I wish you luck. And Brynn is right; a child of yours would be lucky to be raised by you.”

Shepard and Garrus were touched. Shepard smiled up at Garrus, and offered baby Carrie to him. Gently, hesitatingly, he accepted the tiny human, and looked around at the surrounding humans for confirmation that he was doing it right.

“You’re a natural too, Garrus,” Brynn said admiringly. 

“I guess I need this practice, for somewhere down the line.” Garrus replied, but was gazing at Shepard as he spoke.

She gazed back, a smile on her face. “Somewhere down the line,” she confirmed. 

Kasumi, Zaeed, Samara, and Jack came together on their last visit before they left Earth once more.

“The code requires me to make the journey back to Thessia and assist however I can,” Samara remarked serenely from the table she was sitting on lotus style. “But I will see you again, Shepard, whenever I can.”

“They’re rebuilding the academy,” Jack piped up, as she leaned against the door frame. “Gotta go back and keep teaching those damn kids, they’d be lost without me. Besides, they need the extra biotic power to help patch that place back up.”

“I have work to do,” Kasumi volunteered, though she did not volunteer what the work was, and the rest of them knew better than to ask.

“I’m going to Omega,” Zaeed announced, “and I’m gunna get shit-faced drunk every day and end up in bed with an asari beauty every night.”

“Sounds like you’ll all be...very busy.” Shepard managed. Then she smiled, sincerely. “I’ll miss you guys.”

Jack made a heaving sound. “Eugh, Shepard, don’t go all Queen of the Girl Scouts on us!”

“Christ, Shepard, it’s not like we’ll never see you again,” Zaeed agreed. “I reckon there’s still plenty of stuff out there needs killing, and I reckon you’ll call on me an’ Jessie to come do it when the time comes.” 

“I think it’s sweet,” Kasumi argued. She turned to Shepard and gave her a bright smile. “I’ll steal plenty of stuff in your name!”

“So no one’s retiring except Zaeed, huh?” Garrus said.

“There is no ‘retiring’ in the code,” Samara responded calmly. “But I will make time for you Commander Shepard, whenever you have need of me.” 

“Who said anything about retiring?” Zaeed protested.

Shepard chuckled and shook her head. “Well, I’ll try not to take any of you from your work again.”

“Unless the Reapers have vengeful distant cousins.” Kasumi interrupted. She pondered. “The Weepers? The Creepers?...The….”

“Here’s hoping that’s not the case,” Shepard laughed, holding up a hand to stop Kasumi. “But we are talking about a party on the Normandy once I’m out of here, even better than the one on the Citadel, and you’re all invited. I hope to see you guys then.” 

“Hell, yeah,” Jack replied, “Just make sure you all learn how to hold your liquor this time. I don’t feel like piloting our asses home across the damn galaxy.”

“Bah, I’ve been drinking since before you all were a twinkle in your daddy’s eye,” Zaeed growled. 

“And I have been drinking well before any of you humans or your ancestors ever entered space,” Samara retorted serenely. 

“Rub it in, why don’t you,” Jack replied sarcastically. “I’ll be there, Shepard. Might not be as fun without certain death hanging over our heads, though.”

“I think I’m okay with that,” Shepard remarked drily.

The group passed the rest of the visit cheerfully comparing kills from the fight with the Reapers, and how the Normandy would need to be dry-docked for repairs once more, once their party was done. In Jack’s words: “We’re gonna tear that bitch up!”

Javik and James happened to come by late one afternoon when Shepard had just finished a tough but rewarding physical therapy session.

“I made it across the parallel bars by myself,” Shepard crowed. Then she looked a little embarrassed. “Never thought I’d be proud of doing something as simple as walking.”

“You should be, Lola.” James said, slapping Shepard’s leg. She winced a little, but James didn’t notice. “You beat the crap out of those pendejos, and you lived to walk another day. Not everyone gets to say that.” 

“I never thought I would see a day without the Reapers,” Javik said, looking out Shepard’s window.

“I imagine these past few months have been pretty surreal for you,” Shepard remarked gently.

“It is good to have closure, Commander. And it felt good to avenge my people.”

“What will you do now?” Garrus asked.

“What people all over the galaxy will do. What my people lost the chance to do. Live.” Javik answered. He turned towards the trio. “If you are asking about specifics...I do not know. I shall live and die surrounded by primitives.” He snorted, but then his expression softened. “Primitives who did what my cycle could not.”

“You’re welcome to stay on the ship as crew,” Shepard offered. Truthfully, she didn’t know what the Alliance had planned for her or the Normandy, but also knew damn well they weren’t grounding her again, or taking her ship. The Normandy and its crew were hers.

“I may do that,” Javik allowed. “I have decided I will help the asar...Liara with her book. To do so, I will go wherever she goes, at least until it is complete.”

“I’m happy to hear that,” Shepard replied. “I think the galaxy will be very interested to hear directly from a prothean.” She turned to James. “What about you? Technically you’re not an officially recognized member of the crew, at least not by the Alliance.”

“Not yet I’m not,” James scoffed, “but I will be, just watch. I’m going to complete my N7 training, and then I’m going to apply to join you on the Normandy. You know there’s no Normandy without me, Lola.” He grinned cockily. 

Shepard clasped hands with James and shook firmly. “I’ll be happy to welcome you back,” she told him. 

James grinned, then got up and stretched. “Well, we better hit the road, Javier”

“I told you to stop calling me that.” Javick hissed back.

Garrus and Shepard laughed. “Javier?” Garrus queried. 

James shrugged. “It suits him.” He and Javik made their way out of the room, but at the door, James covertly signalled at Garrus to follow him.

“Oh, I meant to ask James something,” Garrus told a slightly bemused Shepard, before hurrying out of the room after James. He caught up to them further down the hall.

“You go ahead, Javier,” James called to Javik, who bared his teeth but didn’t respond.

When he had turned the corner, James turned back to Garrus. “So, I haven’t heard from you since you asked me about, you know.” He crossed his arms and eyed Garrus interestedly. 

“I’ve been waiting for the right moment,” Garrus replied sheepishly. “It’ll be soon, though. I’ve been waiting until she can walk again, and she almost can.”

“You got what I told you to get?” James quizzed. 

“I did,” Garrus confirmed. In fact, it was heavy in his pocket right at that moment; he hadn’t wanted to take it out in case the right moment suddenly appeared and he didn’t have it. 

James grinned and clapped Garrus on the arm. “Then you’re all set! I better be the first to know when it happens though, hear me?”

“Sure, Vega.” Garrus answered, and the two men exchanged the cozy smile of people sharing a very juicy secret.

[tarysande]

Fic Update: Any Four Walls: Cool Aunt

Heyyy, why not update a story I haven’t updated in more than a year while everyone is off playing new game? *finger guns*

(In all seriousness, sorry for the long delay. I don’t anticipate one NEARLY as long again. This chapter sets up an arc I’ve had in my head for years!)

On AO3

#

Cool Aunt

After three hours spent as sole caregiver to her brother’s daughters, Solana was beginning to have serious doubts about her own suitability as a parent, which made her current state of impending motherhood all the more terrifying. No going back now. Not even if she was having sudden visions of just how woefully underprepared she was. And she was. In vivid color.

Taking the girls off their parents’ hands for a day had seemed like such a good idea at the time. Step one to reaching coveted cool aunt status. Girls day out. Or in. Something. Fun. Definitely fun.

To be honest, she hadn’t actually thought that far ahead when she made the offer.

Garrus had an itinerary of political obligations as long as his arm, which only made Solana shudder and wonder how she could ensure her own position in the Hierarchy rose no further than it was already. Though Shepard had been perfectly willing to stay and entertain the children, Garrus did not disguise how much he wanted her with him. More than that, Solana knew they were far more effective a team when working together, especially when it came to fighting for things they believed in. Solana wasn’t privy to the details, but whatever it was they were dealing with now left a grim expression on her brother’s face whenever he thought no one was looking. Shepard’s wasn’t much better.

While arguing with one or the other of them was possible, when they presented a unified front, Sol wasn’t sure they’d ever actually failed. Being on kid-duty for a day seemed a small price to pay, if it helped relieve some of the tension lurking beneath her brother’s plates or in the furrowed cant of Shepard’s human brows.

Off they’d gone, and with them Naxus and her father to their respective work, leaving Solana in possession of two sleepy girls and many hours to fill. The sleepiness had worn off after breakfast, replaced by the kind of frenetic activity Solana usually associated with a firefight. Or stims. Or stims during a firefight.

And that was only hour one.

On hour four, tired to her bones and having exhausted all avenues of entertainment via vid-watching or reading or playing in the garden with nothing resembling nap time in sight, Solana bundled the girls into her skycar and took the scenic route into town. This served the dual purpose of helping pass time and avoiding some of the worst areas of Reaper destruction still in the process of being cleaned up. She didn’t need to ask to know Tyrra was uneasy; the girl sat in the back seat with her hands folded, looking anywhere but out the windows. Beside her sister, hip pressed to hip and shoulder to shoulder, Rose kept up a steady stream of conversation requiring no responses. Most of it seemed to be about some vid series Solana had never heard of.

With sinking certainty, Solana realized she was going to have to know these things at some point. Hot vids, and the names of the characters in them. The right toys. Lingo.

How to change a dirty baby. How to feed one. How to stop one from crying.

“Spirits,” she muttered under her breath.

“Are you okay, Auntie Sol?”

“Of course,” she lied, wondering about the stats on new parents who somehow broke their offspring in the first week. Or day. Or hour. She wondered if there was a record. She wondered if she was going to break it.

Machines she could do. Code? Without a doubt. Even the trickiest, most finicky wiring? Not a problem.

Real living creatures were a whole other matter.

There was, after all, a reason why she’d never kept pets.

“It’s just you have a real funny look, like the one Dad gets when he’s gotta go on the vids.”

“He hates the vids,” Tyrra added. Solana didn’t miss the way the girl’s subharmonics seemed to ask if Solana hated them the way Garrus hated public appearances.

With a touch more honesty than she was entirely comfortable with—and how honest were you supposed to be with children about things like this, anyway?—Solana replied, “I wasn’t busy hating anything, I promise.” One hand waved in the general vicinity of the alien lifeform now growing within her. “I’m only a little nervous about this whole having a kid of my own thing.”

“Why?” Rose asked, so guileless Solana could’ve hugged her. “You’ve been doing real good with us, except for when you almost mixed up the breakfast foods and when you almost locked us out of the house and when—”

Tyrra cleared her throat loudly.

“Oh,” said Rose. “Sorry. Yeah. You’re doing good. Definitely.”

She said definitely exactly the way Garrus would have said it. Only Garrus would have smirked. And then Sol would have had to kill him.

“I think you get used to it, anyway,” offered Tyrra, finally looking up from the hands folded in her lap. “Taking care of babies. They don’t do very much. Just eat and sleep and need their diapers changed. Mostly they like it when you hold them and sing to them, and they don’t like loud noises. They like to feel safe.”

Solana’s breath caught when she realized Tyrra was speaking from experience, and that the experience hid the kind of grief no nine-year-old kid should ever have known. Sol was forced to correct for an unintentional swerve. The weave and drop made Rose giggle.

“Well,” Sol said, too brightly, her subharmonics hiding nothing, “I have to admit I don’t have any experience at all. Garrus is the older brother; I think he did all the baby stuff when I was small. That’s what my mom always said when he pissed me off later, anyway: ‘Be nice to your brother, dear heart, he used to change your diapers.’”

“Dad’s pretty good with babies,” Rose agreed, kicking her feet back and forth. Solana noticed she was wearing different colored socks pulled up overtop of her envirosuit, one pink and one bright blue with sparkly stars. “Mom’s soooo bad.”

Tyrra’s mandibles fluttered in amusement. “She really is.”

Solana laughed. “If Shepard—of all people—can set such a low bar, maybe there’s hope I’ll be able to step over it.”

Tyrra glanced out the window and didn’t immediately look away; the smile remained on her face. Solana couldn’t help feeling it was a victory. “I think she doesn’t do well when she can’t talk to them.”

“Sounds about right.” Solana held up a finger. “She’s good with words.” She’s held up the other. “She’s good with guns.” Opening her palm, she shrugged one shoulder. “Something she can neither talk to or shoot at probably causes no end of discomfort. I should remember that.”

Tyrra laughed. Rose leaned forward against her restraints and said, “One time she almost dropped a baby someone wanted her to hold, like, for a picture? It was screaming and wriggling and the mom was all ‘Please, Commander Shepard’ even though Mom’s not a commander anymore but I guess that’s how everyone knows her and the baby was just like, ‘Wahh’ and Mom was getting all flustered until Dad kinda saved her and made a joke about always having her six even against, um, the most hostile hostiles? It was pretty funny. Then the baby puked right in her face. Like, a lot. I think it was on the vids. You should look it up.”

“Oh, I will,” said Solana, grinning. “I absolutely will. Now, girls, I was thinking we might do a little shopping, but we could also—”

When the crash sounded and the skycar began plummeting to the ground, Solana’s first thought was that there’d been some kind of rockfall—her route had taken them close to the mountains to avoid the worst of the valley’s Reaper destruction—but the screech of metal on metal whispered an even more alarming truth. They were under attack. Her fingers danced over the haptic interface, trying to wrestle back control and even out the car’s trajectory. Beneath her talons, her instruments recorded a flash of energy before flickering and dying.

She swallowed her panic because she had to. She had to.

In the shadow of the mountain, the interior of the vehicle was dark without its glowing lights and reassuring screens and readouts.

Rose screamed once, high and terrified. Tyrra remained silent, talons digging hard into the seat.

“It’s okay,” Solana said, breathless. The side of the car bounced hard off the rock face, potently punctuating her lie. She reached for the weapon at her hip, while scrambling for the other in its secret compartment under her interface panel. The first she attempted to hand to Tyrra, but the older girl only stared straight ahead, mandibles pulled tight to her face and eyes so wide Solana knew she was seeing something very different from the inside of a falling car.

—beasts wearing turian faces krogan bodies turian teeth tearing turian eyes and her leg her leg her leg leave me dad leave me just go on without me save yourself they’re turians oh spirits they were turians once—

Rose took the weapon before Solana could stop her. Her face was wet with tears beneath the envirosuit’s mask. With a weary sadness so at odds with her usual ebullience, Rose closed her hands around a grip far too big for her little hands and said, “I know what to do, Auntie Sol. Aim for the eyes. Always point at the eyes and pull and pull and pull and pull and don’t stop.”

Some of the pressure from above eased. The backup generator stuttered to life, providing enough power for Sol to get the safety landing gear mostly extended, though she had to release her restraints and reach for the manual controls to do so, and the damned things still stuck half-in, half-out. When the second crash came, her head hit the side window hard enough to make her see stars.

—turian faces krogan bodies turian keening from a monster’s throat—

The roar in her ears refused to diminish. Clutching at her weapon, she tried to see into the back seat, but her vision remained alternately blurred and dark. Pain arcing down her spine and across her belly stole a low keening note from her throat.

—i won’t leave you you know i won’t leave you—

Metal crunched. A third attack from above was enough to finally push the car into the dirt, and though the landing gear cushioned them somewhat, the lack of power and maneuverability sent Solana against the window again, curling so her back and cowl took most of the damage. She blinked, swiping at the blood in her eyes, gasping around the pain. She’d had worse. She’d lived through worse.

—turian teeth tearing—

“Rose? You okay, dear heart? Tyrra? Tyrra?”

“Yes,” replied Rose promptly. “Is…is it Reapers?”

“The Reapers are gone. I promise.” Solana swallowed hard, tasting yet more blood. Her bad leg felt strange, hollow. Like the phantom limb tingling she’d suffered before her surgery to replace it. Another screaming ripple of pain twisted her gut. “Is Tyrra—”

“She’s in the bad place.”

The driver’s side window imploded in a shower of glass that skittered across Solana’s plates without enough force to cause damage. She wasted neither time nor words, turning her gun in the direction of the sound and shooting. No satisfying sound of injury met her shots.

“Rose, tell me what you see.”

In a whisper, Rose said, “There’s a lot of legs, Auntie Sol. I can’t see their faces. It’s not Reapers. I think it’s—”

Unconsciousness found Solana before Rose finished. She fought it, clawing at the light with everything she had. Not enough. Not enough. Not enough.

—they’re turians oh spirits they were turians once—