#so new friends have seen i go by shepard but none have really switched to it. its whatever

[corpseflowerqueer]

I loveeee the name shepard too bad barely anyone calls me it anymore

[ellstersmash]

Not to Keep

Fandom: Mass Effect (Original Trilogy) Pairing: Kaidan x f!Shepard Rating: T for Teen (cw for alcohol use) Words: 2.7k [Read on Ao3]

shep and kaidan go undercover, set early in me1. this was originally a prompt for "fake relationship" from Leather & Lace Romance Week, but then I waited 3.5 years to finish it 🥀

-

It all seemed so simple. Infiltrate a wedding, extract intel on Benezia, use that to find Saren.

Easy-peasy.

Until Shepard shows up in the shuttle bay looking like that. They've only been working together for a couple of months, and Kaidan has seen her covered in blood spatter, dripping sweat post-PT—hell, even bare naked in a hotel room. But it’s safe to say he never thought he'd see her like this. Full makeup, soft curls, a long red dress that shouldn't fit anyone that perfectly, and, dangling from two fingers, a pair of classy black heels.

Kaidan swallows hard and gives her a curt nod. “Ma’am.”

“Alenko.” He shifts on his feet as her eyes travel the length of his body and back up, her cool stare giving nothing away. “You clean up nice.”

“Ah, thanks. And you look—”

“Oh, I'm dressed to kill.” Lips the same shade as her dress curve into a grin. “Figuratively, for once.”

Kaidan chokes and laughs, caught off guard in a mixture of nerves and surprise. “Was that a joke, Commander?”

Her expression narrows into a pinched, self-deprecating smirk. “If you have to ask, then no. And I definitely haven't been thinking about it since Williams zipped this damn thing up.”

The thought of his CO, this formidable woman, giggling to herself over a stupid joke for an hour is... well, it’s uncharacteristically cute. Kaidan rolls it around in his head for an indulgent minute, trying on the fit before letting the image go.

Just one more thing to jam into that Never Gonna Happen file.

“Right,” she says, back to business. “Let’s get this over with.”

They board the shuttle for the short trip to the venue, and go over the mission brief one final time: intel extraction remains their highest priority—one of their hosts, Polona T’Shan, was rumored to have a close business connection with the matriarch; protecting their cover is important, but heavy security is not expected; their false identity profiles should be enough to get them in the door, and from there the two of them will be responsible for avoiding unwanted attention by appearing as a couple.

Kaidan knows his own limits. He’s a soldier, not an actor. This pretending to be someone else, this lie, it isn't part of his training and it sure as hell isn't part of who he is. But if Shepard’s as nervous as he is, she isn't showing it.

She’s looking at him again, in that intense all-in way she sometimes does. Before her, he had never met someone who was aware of—and pursued—what they wanted with such confidence, such dogged determination, and to have that kind of focus set on him even for just a moment is… terrifying. In a good way, he thinks. It makes him feel warm and cold at the same time. It also makes him want to stare right back, but that way lies only trouble, and none of them need another helping. Not right now.

Kaidan leans back and rests his head on the cool, if slightly unsteady, inner shuttle wall as Shepard drums a rhythmless pattern into the space between their seats.

---

Kyra drains her glass.

As it turns out, Asari weddings aren't all that different from the few human ones she’s attended. Though this reception is a far more extravagant affair than she’s used to: four days of mingling and games and dancing and drinking and food. Really not her cup of tea.

And apparently not Alenko’s, either.

He’d made a beeline for the bar as soon as they’d entered, and returned with an easier stride and a glass full of some bubbling neon sugary shit for her. She’d have preferred something stronger, of course, but they do have a mission to complete. If they can manage to get Polona alone for a moment.

She slips her hand into the crook of his elbow and feels him stiffen, then relax. Quick and conscious. He’s nervous, out of place, on edge, and then completely calm and collected.

No doubt in her mind he was the right pick for this one.

The thought settles her stomach, and just in time. Two asari approach, their hands extended in enthusiastic welcome.

“Greetings!” one of them says, with a voice smooth and sweet as wildflower honey. “Oh, what a lovely pair you two make. Right out of the vids, could be. This one’s even better looking up close, don’t you think so, Liria?” The asari takes Alenko’s hand, sensual and deliberate, then turns her attention to Kyra. “And goddess, that dress is stunning; really, sweetie, it fits you like a glove. You”—she drags one finger down Alenko’s lapel—“are a lucky man, I hope you know.”

Eyes wide, he clears his throat and coughs, then regains his composure with a brief glance in Kyra’s direction.

The second asari offers an apologetic look to each of them in turn. “Rialla, darling, slow down or you’ll scare them off.”

“They certainly look sturdy enough.”

“I am so sorry. She’s had quite a bit to drink, I’m afraid. Never could pace herself at a wedding.” She laughs. “My name is Liria, and my companion’s name is Rialla, and ever since we saw you walk in, we have just been itching to get to know you.”

Kyra plasters what she hopes is a warm smile on her face, mentally pulling up her cover identity as reference. “Emily, and I’m delighted to meet you both. This is John, my um—”

“Her very lucky partner.”

The two matriarchs titter and tease him, both in turn, and once again he’s in control. Kyra can’t help but be impressed by how effortlessly he charms them. And she’s far from immune. It’s her mission, yet she is all too prepared to be led around the room by that firm hand at the small of her back.

Staff Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko: respected Alliance Marine, powerful L2 biotic, all-around stand-up guy, and—apparently—a smooth son-of-a-bitch. It’s an unexpected feature for someone so soft-spoken and unpretentious. Like he has a hidden switch somewhere.

Or a button.

Press For Instant Charisma.

She briefly entertains the idea of hunting for it, then aborts the thought with a twist of her lips and tunes back in to the conversation.

---

The lie is getting easier. Shepard is tucked under Kaidan’s arm, and he’s almost comfortable.

Their new friends are exactly the right sort. Nosy, talkative, well into their cups, and connected. Old friends of their mark, both of them, and Liria has history with Benezia herself. Shepard spins her tale about a chance meeting with the missing matriarch at a charity benefit and their tapering correspondence, followed by a rumor igniting hope for reconnection. And they eat it right up.

All he has to do is act natural and help Shepard keep them talking.

“Well, you know Polona wasn’t only Benezia’s lawyer.” Liria leans in close, her voice not quite as hushed as she probably intended. “They were involved, some centuries back. Quite the scandal at the time, but then Benezia always had... selfish tendencies. Now, I’m not sure why they parted ways, or how serious it was, but—”

Not to be outdone, Rialla’s hands flutter for attention as she pipes in. “It must be more than a passing fling from two hundred years ago, though, because I heard that her Turian lover—or, well, husband now—almost called off this very wedding!”

“Really?” Shepard asks. What’s supposed to be idle curiosity is bordering on serious interest, her voice taking on a firm, interrogative quality to match her narrowed gaze, but a brush of his thumb on her shoulder and she reigns it in. Loosens up with a tilt of her head and a hand to his thigh that has him tensing up instead.

“Oh, yes,” Rialla says. “It was all very tenuous there for a while. And to think, then the four of us would never have met!”

Kaidan raises his glass with a smile as genuine as he can muster. “A tragic loss for us, to be sure.”

With a deep, warm smile, Rialla fans her face and leans in close to Shepard, but speaks for the whole table to hear. “Do let me know when you're finished with him, would you, dear? I think I may be quite in love.”

He's fine until Shepard smirks, then he's far too warm. Suffocating.

He tugs at his collar. “You think their, uh, conflict had something to do with Polona and Benezia’s involvement?”

“I seriously doubt it,” Liria says with a dismissive wave of her hand. “That was ages ago, not yesterday. Beni’s still pining after Aeth—”

Rialla laughs. “Oh, it’s Beni, now? I had no idea you were such intimate friends!”

“I’m 800 years old, my dear.” Liria scoffs. “I have quite a few friends you don’t know about.”

“Is that supposed to make me jealous?”

“Of course not, don’t be silly!”

“Silly? Goddess, must you always be so patronizing?”

“Must you always twist my words?”

“Oh, here we go!”

The situation spirals into chaos before either he or Shepard can recover it, and she stands up from the table, pulling at his elbow.

“I love this song,” she mutters pointedly, and leads him to the dance floor. It’s a slow number, thank god. He’s not nearly drunk enough to dance to something with a beat.

They sway slowly, and she presses close, his neck prickling underneath her palm. His own hands settle on her waist, then more naturally to her hips.

“Damn,” she whispers. “Damn.”

“I know. But hey, we’ve got the rest of the night. And tomorrow night. And the next night. And—”

“The next night, I know.” She groans and drops her head to his shoulder.

Kaidan smiles into her hair.

---

The night is officially over. The band is still playing, but most of the guests are gone, and despite making a number of connections, they’ve learned nothing more about Benezia's whereabouts.

They have, however, made decent use of the open bar.

Kyra downs the last of her champagne and orders a cocktail, dealer's choice. It arrives glowing and smoking and she takes the skyward trajectory of Alenko’s brows as a personal challenge not to hesitate.

A potent combination of peppermint and blueberries and battery acid hits the back of her throat and makes her head swim on contact.

Next to her, Alenko is nursing his third.

“How’s your drink?” he asks.

“Surprising.”

“In a good way or a bad way?”

“Um… Yes.” She clinks her fingernail against his glass. “How’s your whiskey?”

He frowns and takes a sip. “This is not whiskey.”

“Didn’t realize you were such a connoisseur.”

“No, I mean it is literally not whiskey. Didn’t have it, I guess.” He drinks again. “It’s weird, right? Walk into any bar on Earth and they’ll have a dozen to pick from, but soon as you take off…”

“Yeah.” She sighs. “No burgers. No guac. No ice cream.”

The low chuckle he gives is a sound she’d like to hear again. And again, and again, and—

“When you put it like that, this spacer life is a real sorry existence.”

Kyra nods and wonders what he misses most from home. Or who. But that is none of her business, so she empties her glass and tips the bartender in preparation to leave.

“Sorry tonight was a bust, Shepard.”

“It wasn’t a total loss. Decent food, free booze.” She rests her chin on one closed fist. “Good company.”

“By that, I assume you mean our new asari friends.”

“Sure.”

Holding his gaze is harder than it should be. He cradles his nearly-empty glass and taps his fingers in sequence. Up and down, like a zipper.

At last, he looks away. “I was going to say ‘beautiful,’ by the way.”

“Hmm?”

“Earlier, before we left. I was going to tell you how incredible you looked, but then you interrupted me, and I never really got the chance to say it so I figured I might as well say it now.”

Warmth rises in her belly and she rides it like a wave, unscathed and unchanged on the other side. She turns to face him, wriggling in the seat in preparation like he’s about to try and upend her. “All right, Alenko. Hit me. I’m ready.”

He gives a huff of nervous laughter, one hand going straight to the back of his neck. “Well, uh... that was pretty much it.”

“That’s it? You waited all night to tell me that you were going to tell me I looked beautiful, but didn’t?”

His lips roll together, and he cedes the point with a tilt of his head, then meets her eyes again before his take a slow, uncertain wander around the rest of her features.

“Shepard,” he says when he makes it back, and it’s a name so overused it may as well be a title—but not spoken like that. Low and drawn out and a little bit reverent, it becomes almost intimate for the first time in years and she can't help but wonder how her first might sound.

“You look really beautiful tonight.”

Oh. Oh no. Kyra knows she should say thank you, and tell him to finish his drink so they can get out of here, but this next wave won’t subside and the air won’t reach her lungs and all she can do is stare at him.

“I mean, not just tonight, but especially—” he continues, visibly flustered by her silence. “You know, the dress and the lips—ah, make-up! And, and the hair and everything, it’s just very, um, tasteful, and… Um.” He clears his throat and pushes his drink away by inches, folding his hands tight together. "Feel free to stop me anytime.”

Ah. There. That’s the Alenko she knows and can handle.

“Now why would I do a thing like that?” she says, sending a silent prayer of thanks to whichever god kept her voice from breaking.

The smile they exchange is soft and charged and it smooths him over. His eyes are brown. Kyra knew that already, but clinically. On paper. Hair: black. Eyes: brown. Year of birth: 2151.

She didn’t know it like this, tangibly, all wrapped up and swept away in a simple fact.

This time she’s the one to give in. “You know, you should really keep that button pressed, Alenko.”

“What?”

“The charisma button.” She jerks her head toward the door, grabs his hand for the sake of anyone who might still be awake and sober enough to notice, and leads him out. “Push it. More.”

“I— what?”

Kyra chuckles to herself and steps into the elevator. “Forget it.”

The doors close once she chooses a floor and she regrets taking his hand because now she has to let go.

Kiss me. Come on, Alenko. Quick, before we go back. She can’t think it any louder, can’t make it any clearer without crossing a line. Be better if he does it, but he won’t. She knows he wants to just like she knows he never will, because he’s a good soldier and a good soldier doesn’t fuck with the chain of command. Not without a compelling reason, at least, and she can’t give him one.

Their floor lights up and reality pours in. He follows her across the dock, at a distance now that no one who would care might be watching.

Kyra takes a sharp, deep breath. Three more nights of this—unless they can get their intel sooner. Three more nights of flirting and dancing and soft touches all for show and not to keep. Maybe she should have brought Williams after all. Or Garrus. Or anyone else.

Distracted, she nearly trips getting into the shuttle, and somehow he’s right there, a broad hand on her waist to steady her.

A nod and he detaches. Steps back. “Ma’am.”

Ma’am. But he is a terrible liar, and she’s never been good at a long con.

[fangirlshrewt97]

Leverage Fic: Let that lonely feeling wash away

Author(s): Fangirlshrewt97

Fandom: Leverage

Pairing: Eliot Spencer & Parker

Characters: Eliot Spencer, Parker, Alec Hardison (mentioned), Sophie Devareux (mentioned), Nate Ford (mentioned)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: None

Additional Tags:  Bonding, sometime in season 1, Realizations, Comfort

Summary:

“I am not used to this.” Parker started before stopping. She was biting her lip, and tense as a coiled spring ready to bolt. “The other day, I just followed Nate’s plan.”  

 He kept his face carefully blank. “Ok? What is the problem there?”

 “Eliot, I didn’t make a back up plan!”

 Ah. Her issues were getting clearer.

 Or: A normal day brings an unexpected, but not really, revelation.

 Link to A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23526583

Gift for: @lurkerviolin, Happy birthday dearest!

                                                        *****

Eliot felt himself subtly tense up at the sudden change in atmosphere, something new was there in his room. Taking a quiet inhale, Eliot turned off the stove, moving the hotpot to the marble countertop before moving deliberately to the entrance of his kitchen. Counting in his head, he struck out his arm at the count of four and smirked as his prize yelped and squirmed under his unyielding grip. He dragged his uninvited guest into the kitchen, depositing her on to one of the chairs in his tiny dining table. " You're lucky I didn't have my knife in my hand Parker" he menaced, advancing to loom over the thief, not that she cared. "It's Wednesday afternoon," Parker remarked non-chalantly as she leaned back and got comfortable in the hard wooden chair, "this chair sucks". "It's a solid chair. Also that's not an answer. And it's evening". Eliot said as he moved back to his sink, rolling up his sleeves before starting to wash his dishes. "It's a valid answer!" Parker protested. "You wouldn't have had a knife with you at this time on a Wednesday because you are making soup and bread to take with you to the local community kitchen and to help out at dinner time". Eliot paused in his scrubbing of a particular stain on the plate, polishing it till he could see his reflection.

He put the plate on the dish rack, and grabbed the chopping board. Parker did not miss the slowing down of his movements. "What?" "Am I getting predictable?" Eliot asked, an almost imperceptible nervousness underlying his question. Parker regarded the frame of her ... friend. She had known Eliot for almost eight years now and could count the number of times he was genuinely nervous on one hand. The man was unflappable. But that was just a consequence of the life they had chosen wasn't it? No one said being a criminal is easy. "No, I just know you well." Eliot huffed, but the line of tension in his shoulders was still there. Parker unfolded herself from the chair and went to stand by Eliot, awkwardly punching him on the shoulder. "Lighten up Eliot. You're fine." Social interactions were still taking some getting used to. Eliot barely reacted to the punch, but paused at her words. “We should move.”

That surprised Parker. “Move? Move where? When? Why?”

“In my line of work predictable means dead Parker.”

“Not necessarily” Parker tried to argue, but it came out weak and unconvincing to her own ears. While surprised, she did understand Eliot’s concerns. They had been in LA for almost 9 months now, the longest the pair of them had stayed anywhere since they started working together as a team. Eliot had never seen where Parker lived, and to be frank was not quite sure whether she even slept all that much, but he had offered her his couch to crash in if she ever needed it. She had never needed it so far. Parker was just trying to figure out what to say when her stomach grumbled loudly.  

“How long since you’ve eaten?” Eliot asked, voice neutral even as she saw him switching to caretaker mode. Hey why look a Eliot in the gift mouth?

“This after-”

“Actual food that is not at least 40% sugar and 40% other crap.” Eliot cut her off with a no nonsense voice. Parker winced.

“The tacos you made for all of us?” Parker said, voice quiet enough Eliot had to strain to hear. She saw his grip tighten on the cutlery in his hand.

“That was two days ago Parker.”

Parker just shrugged. Food was not a big thing for Parker. She was a thief, the best in the world in fact. Before the team, food had just been whatever gave her enough energy to best complete the job. Or tasted the sweetest.

Eliot was changing that. She had had a donut today morning and thought it was too sweet. That had never happened before.

But she wasn’t the only one studying her new friend. Eliot was studying her right back, and knew the best way  to confront Parker was to do so at her own pace and by her own choice. Eliot could hold her once he had her, but she was the slipperiest thing he had ever had to catch. “Pick a restaurant kid, your turn, I’ll get them to deliver something for you. Or do you want me to make something?”

“’m not a kid!” Parker protested, pouting as she walking to their living room, trying to ignore the weird feeling in her stomach at Eliot’s offer. Probably a side effect of the hunger. So what if she also got it whenever Hardison complimented her on her skill, or Sophie said she had looked nice that day?

She shook her head to clear her thoughts and picked up the newspaper Eliot actually read. She didn’t get the point of newspapers. She flopped on the couch, in a posture so terrible she was sure Eliot would yell at her for later but what did he know? This was comfortable.

Nothing of interest caught her eye, so she threw that newspaper back onto the table and got another from his pile. She leafed through the pages halfheartedly, the text all blurring into one big block of black text, the pictures just making her grimace. This newspaper went back on the pile, as did the next. And the next.

By the time Eliot came to the living room to check on Parker, having finished all his cooking and cleaning and even changed into an unremarkable outfit that offered him anonymity, the thief was restless. He found her sitting on her ankles, methodically shredding and folding different pieces of paper and seemingly making origami ... somethings. Nothing that resembled anything he could guess the identity of.

“Seriously Parker?”

“Everything is boring Eliot!” Parker whined according to Eliot; frustratingly conveyed according to Parker.

Eliot bit back the retort on the tip of his tongue. If he pushed her too hard she would disappear and who knew when Nate would call them together before he could force her to sit down for a proper meal she would pick at regardless.

“I will be back in two hours. If you can’t decide on take-out, I have leftovers of the soup and bread I made in the kitchen. Or last night’s shepard’s pie and carrot and corn salad in the fridge. Help yourself. You better have eaten by the time I am back or I am forcing you to have brussels sprouts.” Eliot said before putting on his jacket and heading to the door. He stopped right before he closed it, looking back at her. Parker stayed still in her place, face still twisted in a grimace at the thought of brussels sprouts. Eliot grinned at her, but not the type of smile that normal people smiled at Parker. The kind that reminded her why most people were scared of Eliot Spencer. It looked like a shark’s. She liked sharks.

Parker pouted some more as she cleaned up the mess she had made behind, knowing that Eliot would glare at her until she did if the house was not tidy when he came back. Once she finished cleaning the living room back to how she found it, she went back into the kitchen and retrieved the shepard’s pie and salad from the fridge. She rummaged around the drawer for a fork, and having found her target as she waited for the microwave to beep. Retrieving her warmed up meal, she moved to the fire escape outside the kitchen window, where Eliot kept his small herb garden. She settled on the creaky stairs, having moved up them enough to get a view of the street and park outside their apartment building.

The boy and the mom were there, as always, with the mom looking ready to collapse as usual, and the boy yelling and running around with his friends as usual. There was the college student sitting against the tree, doing the last of his reading before the sun set. The old Chinese men playing GO at the old chess tables.

The pie was soft and crumbly, with more vegetable in her one scoop than she had had all day. She scraped another bite off the pie, gathering some of the vegetables as well. Just sitting quietly and watching the city go by, becoming like those ugly monster-creature statues in some of the old churches in Europe. She wasn’t envious of the people at the park. She knew she wasn’t like them. And that was ok. Eliot had told her. Different doesn’t always mean bad.  

It had surprised her how quickly the team had managed to take up a space in her world. She had never thought that she would never work in a team, much less four people who insisted on checking on her and feeding her and making sure she was ok. Well that’s not true. She had just grown so used to being alone. To doing everything on her own, and not relying on anyone. Not since Archie left her to be on her own. Other people were liabilities he had told her. Other people could not be trusted. Other people were slow and heavy, and she needed to be light and quick.

Not the team though. Eliot though. Eliot understood her, understood her better than the others. Parker liked to think it was because they were similar but that wasn’t true. Eliot understood how people worked, he could make himself be normal, make others like him. He could make himself look safe to approach. Normal people never came too close to her, it was as if they could sense she was different. Whatever, that suited Parker just fine. Less people paying attention just made it easier for her to steal.

A distant yell brought her back to herself, and she sat up from where she had slouched to see the boy in the park across was crying and most likely the one who had yelled. He was on the ground and seemed to be yelling because he had fallen of the monkey bars. Amateur. But Parker kept watching as the boy’s mother rushed to the child, hugging him to her chest and rubbing his back as she examined the wound. A few other parents and others circled the pair, another mother offering something that looked like Kleenex maybe?

Parker knew most people would find the scene nice. Hardison would. She thinks. But all she sees when she looks at the scene is a boy who is being coddled. Why didn’t they see it would be better if they just left him alone. What would happen to him when he was by herself the next time he got hurt? It was better if he was alone.

Parker mechanically swallowed the bite she had been chewing and scrapped her fork only to find that she had managed to finish her plate. That explained the full stomach.

That was a lie. It would be worse if he had been alone. Parker knew that. She had just become convinced that no one would be coming anyways, so she could only rely on herself. But the team had been proving her wrong hadn’t they?

Nate looked out for all of them, made sure they were never cornered. In the last job, she hadn’t even scouted the building by herself beforehand, just trusted that Nate would get her out safe.

A pit started forming in her stomach, and her throat felt like it was closing.

Sophie patiently taught her how to read people, to understand who was out to get her, and who were just oblivious and asking out of politeness. Sophie got frustrated with her sometimes when she saw Parker actively choosing or doing the wrong action, but it helped Parker. The new skills could definitely help her talk her way out next time when she was caught alone.

Her breath caught. When?

Eliot never scolded her about anything important. No, not important, anything real. He had never asked her what was wrong with her. Out of the team, Eliot was the one who understood why it was better to be alone.

It was better right?

Then why did she feel like she wanted to cry?

Hardison… Hardison was unlike anyone she had met. He reminded her of a cartoon character, with his energy and over the top dramatic protesting and his magic. He made the world bend to his direction, created doors where there weren’t any, stole more wealth with a few masterful strokes than she could with a week of planning. And yet, he was so kind, he helped old women across the street even though they pinched his cheeks afterward. He bought new toys for the orphanage, and played videogames for hours with the kids in the hospital. He made her feel like she could trust him.

She squeezed her eyes to try and relieve the pressure in her chest. She heard a distant creeking and realized the stairs she was sitting on were shaking slightly with the force of her trembling.

When warm arms gently encircled her wrists, a strangled sob made its way out of her throat and she opened her eyes to find Eliot looking steadily at her. No pity, some concern? For her? He didn’t try to approach her, or to move away. He just stayed where he was. What did he want?

“Parker, is it ok if I sit next to you?”

Oh. Permission.

Parker gave a shaky nod.

Eliot nodded back and moved slowly to sit beside her. The stairs weren’t particularly wide so it ended up with them squished between the wall and the railings, the sides of their bodies pressed together.

“Do you want to talk? Or do you want me to talk? Or do you just want to sit here for a while?” Eliot asked, not pushing. He never pushed. None of them did.

“I don’t know …” Parker started, voice barely there. “I don’t know why I am - I -”

“It’s ok. Just breath. We can be here as long as you need.” Eliot said as he lightly tugged the plate out of her hands. She hadn’t even noticed her death grip on them. She let them go, vision still swimming. Eliot set the plate on the step below them and returned to her side. He held out a white piece of cloth to her, but when Parker just looked at him confused, he sighed and moved it to her face. He cupped her chin to keep her steady while he wiped off her tears. When had she started crying?

After he finished he went to remove his hand but Parker grasped it tightly and moved it to her cheek before leaning into him. She could feel his initial surprise by the sudden tension in his body but he relaxed when she just leaned into his chest, ear directly over his heart. Tentatively, he put his right arm over her back, bringing her closer. The two stayed that way for a long while, watching the sun slowly set in the distance as the lights were switched on throughout the city.

At one point, Parker grew heavier, and Eliot started to worry before he heard the faintest snores. A wave of warmth and pride hit him like a tsunami. He had known the two of them were growing closer, but for Parker to trust him enough to fall asleep around him? Eliot just gripped her tighter to him.

When the wind started to grow strong and the temperature dropped quickly, Eliot reluctantly roused Parker and guided her back inside. Neither of them said anything, Parker’s action had said more than she could with words.

Parker moved to take her usual chair, and wasn’t that unusual? She had an usual chair. She couldn’t remember the last time she had an usual anything. Eliot pulled out some dishes and set them on the countertop before turned to her.

“What do you want to eat?”

Parker shrugged.

“Try again Parker.”

“Why?” Parker asked, half curious, half frustrated about being constantly asked to choose.

Eliot looked at her for another minute before he sighed and moved towards her. She thought he was going to sit in the chair, but instead he sank to his knees in front of her, sitting on his toes.

“What had you upset on the fire escape?”

Parker looked away.

“Please look at me?” And that was unfair wasn’t it? Why did he keep being so nice. Why didn’t he ever get angry with her? Feeling too many things at once, Parker tried to get up, but Eliot blocked her. Not physically, he was sitting just far enough away that she would have to push him to leave. And she couldn’t make herself push him. Even though she had this gut feeling that if she pushed him, he would let her go.

“Why are you so nice to me?”

“Would you rather I was mean?”

“No, just-” Parker bit off, not knowing how to articulate her thoughts. “Why are you always asking me what to cook for dinner or how I am feeling, or to always pick something?”

“Why do you think I am?” Eliot said, face blank and unreadable.

“Eliot!” Parker exclaimed, feeling frustrated.

“When I first started doing this, I made a few rules for myself. And along the way, I broke every single one of them. And forgot who I was. It took me a while to remember who I was, but when I did, I realized I could never be that person anymore because I wasn’t a good person anymore,” Eliot said, looking her straight in the eye. “I have done awful things Parker, things that will haunt me for the rest of my life. But there was a person once who died, and I lived because he died. If nothing else, some days I get up and live because he didn’t get a chance to. It is easy to be alone Parker. No one to answer to, no one to look out for, no one to feel anything about. But that isn’t living. That is surviving. And I was tired. This team, I think that we are all idiots, and if Nate doesn’t quit drinking, will get either himself or us killed. But it is also the first time in far too long since I felt like I was doing something that mattered. Something good. I have too much red in my ledger, and I will never be able to clean it, but doing this, it feels like a start.”

Parker took in his speech, and she was slightly glassy-eyed, but at least less like she was on the verge of tears. “I’m scared.”

“Of what?” he urged.

“I don’t know.”

“You sure about that?” Eliot hadn’t wanted to press her, but at this point he couldn’t ignore it either.

“What? Yes, I know that I am scared but don’t know why.” Parker said, confused and slightly annoyed.

“Let me ask you again then. Why were you crying outside?” Eliot said, shifting so he was sitting cross-legged. To his surprise, Parker pushed away from the chair and rather than leaving as he was half-expecting her to, she sank to mimic his position.

“I am not used to this.” Parker started before stopping. She was biting her lip, and tense as a coiled spring ready to bolt. Eliot just sat back and let her talk. “The other day, I just followed Nate’s plan.” She looked at him expectantly.

He kept his face carefully blank. “Ok? What is the problem there?”

“Eliot, I didn’t make a back up plan!”

Ah. Her issues were getting clearer.

“You don’t need one.”

“But that’s the problem, of course I do. What happens when I get stuck alone and -”

“Parker look at me.” Eliot said, cutting her off before she worked herself up again. When he had her attention, he slowly moved so she could track his movements and placed both his hands on his knees, palms up. Slowly, as if scared to make the wrong move, Parker placed her own hands in his.

“I am not going to speak for the others, just for myself ok, though I have a very strong gut feeling that they feel the same way. If we ever had a plan go wrong and you got stuck alone, I will come to rescue you. I will never abandon you like that ok.” Eliot said, with such conviction, Parker felt rattled to her bones. She may not have known Eliot for very long, but she knew that he meant every single word he had told her. “I know that asking for your trust may be a lot -”

“I do.”

Eliot stopped, her words a genuine shock. He had not expected her to admit that. To herself or to him.

“You do what?” He had to be sure that she was sure.

“I do trust you. And I am scared Eliot. Because what happens when this stops? When the team is done, and we go back to working alone? I can’t… it took me time to figure out how to work alone and I finally have it but now I am supposed to work in a team and I am starting to like it and what happens when we are done? And I can’t be a good thief by myself anymore? I can’t be normal, Eliot, thieving is who I am!” Parker said, finishing quietly, as she pulled her knees up and hugged them, leaning against the chair for support.

“Parker… first of all, whether or not we continue working as a team, you are the best thief in the world, and that is not by accident ok. You earned that title, and working in a team is not going to weaken you. Secondly, do you remember the con a few weeks ago where you managed to talk the CEO into giving you the passcode to the safe?”

“I didn’t even stab him.” Parker remembered with a small smile.

“You didn’t even stab him.” He agreed, voice full of mirth as he let out a small chuckle. “You were a grifter. Even if we stop working as a team, our time together doesn’t go away. I have confidence you will pick up abilities from the rest of us and become truly unstoppable. But most importantly, Parker, you can do anything you want. You are so smart, and resourceful. Trust me, normal is overrated, and no one is really normal. Everyone has something they are hiding that others would judge them for. You are so much more than just a thief."

Parker seemed to mull over his words, and he let her. “You really think so?”

Eliot smiled. “Yes.”

Parker smiled back, and she weakly punched him on the shoulder as she gave a watery chuckle. “I want tacos.”

Eliot laughed. “Tacos it is. Want to help me?”

Parker nodded, still smiling. Eliot grinned and got to his feet, offering a hand to help her up as well. “Go wash your face and come, I’ll get the ingredients out.”

“Okay” Parker replied before heading to his washroom.

Watching her go, Eliot smiled, happy that they had had this conversation. This team of idiots may be the death of him, but he could honestly think of worst people to die because of. So all in all, he had a feeling maybe this team could make it in the long term.

At least, no one was going to die while he was watching their backs.

[incorrectly-quoted-queers]

Drunk Punch Love: INTERMISSION ARCHANGEL

Pairing: FemShep and Garrus Vakarian (Shakarian)

Rating: PG-13 (with some tossed F-bombs)

Summary: Their awkward, badass journey through saving the galaxy and accidentally falling in love

INTERMISSION ARCHANGEL- 40 Days 

Twenty days on Omega, and somehow he ended up spending most of his time at a shithole bar, not knowing what to do with himself.

In a sick twist of fate, the day after he got on the station the old Normandy crew sent him 1,000 credits. Apparently, word of Kaidan and Liara got out, Shepard won the dating pool, and they thought it best to send her winnings to him. They probably thought it was a funny way of remembering her.

Garrus just found it an easy way to accomplish nothing, knowing his bank account was padded with his dead friend's winnings.

It was his fifth night in a row at Afterlife. He didn't know what he was doing here anymore. If he just wanted to sulk it out and then head back to Palaven or the Citadel, he should've left by now. Or if he planned on staying, he should've found some crusade to get his dumb ass distracted. But he wasn't building anything here, he was just drinking and wasting away in limbo.

Finishing his glass for the night, he didn't mind drinking alone very much. And as long as he kept it to one drink, he didn't start imagining her across the table. It was just enough booze to slosh away some of the emptiness, but not enough to start losing his mind. Wasn't the worst way to kill time.

But then an eager looking turian slid in the chair across from him and he hated it.

Okay, drinking alone was fine, minus the persistent grifters. Dude started talking before Garrus could tell him to fuck off. "Don't see ex-turian military around here often, not without a shiny new merc job or some secrets to keep."

"I don't give a shit about whatever you're selling, so-"

"Not even a little bit, Garrus Vaklarian?" He stopped trying to stand and sat back down, glaring at the guy. He didn't like where this was going. The mysterious turian just smirked. "I see I got your attention."

"What the hell do you want?"

"Back-up. I might've gotten myself a one on one with a krogan captain for the Blood Pack in ten minutes, and I don't feel like having my mandibles ripped off."

Garrus was trying to wrap his head around it all. His new taste for ryncol wasn't doing well for his brain. "One, why the hell would you do that? And two, why do you know who I am?"

"I'd love to say weeks of intel, but really? I've seen you a couple times here. Took me a little while to realize you're the one from the Battle of the Citadel vids, who helped take down Saren. Could use some heroism on my side."

"Okay, but you still didn't answer question one."

"I'm not a huge fan of the merc groups, period, but this Krogan's been trying to expand his territory into my old neighborhood. If my favorite restaurant has to start paying dues, we're gonna have a problem."

"With that dumb answer, I guess we're back to augmenting the second question. Why me? You could hire decent shots all over this station."

The guy was trying to seem casually, but Garrus could see the way his feet kept bouncing. All his fake confidence was relying on lies and adrenaline. Regardless of the underlying tells, the turian said, "Well, let's just say I'm a bit strapped for cash, so I was hoping you might do it for free. Also, I always prefer more than just a decent shot."

Laughing, Garrus was a little impressed with the quads on him. At the very least, the exchange was getting more amusing than annoying. "And what makes you think I'll help you?"

"A turian quitting their civil service position to chase down an unconfirmed rogue, turian spectre? That's a hero type. And hero types can't resists offers like mine."

That's when all the talk he was spinning stopped amusing Garrus. He leaned back forward onto the table, trying to keep the pop-up thoughts about green eyes and target practice out of his mind. "Yeah, well that's who I used to be."

Finally, the turian switched tactics. The veiled swagger fell and his shoulders slumped. He leaned closer to Garrus and went for the ole' classic: begging. "Just this once, okay? And after I'll leave you alone."

He was really itching to say no, but something in the back of his head was curious how much trouble one Krogan really could be. He'd definitely taken down scarier things in his time. And what better was he doing?

Hell with it. Maybe this could be his litmus test, break whatever funk he was in. If he felt good helping someone, great, he could use that. Make something of it. If not? Get his ass off this station, because it clearly wasn't doing much for him. Even if Omega treated Shepard's name like a hex, his brain dragged too much of her around. No matter Sol's intel, he there was one big problem with trying to run from her ghost: him.

Pushing off the table, he gave the guy a shrug. "Fine. Now, where the hell are we going?"

His new turian friend probably didn't mean to, but his face lit up and he nearly tripped over himself standing. He did a decent job pretending it didn't happen, though. Straightening himself, he nodded towards the far exit. "Out there and a few alleys back." Garrus nodded and followed him.

Once they were outside, though, he took a stop at a vending machine and grabbed some water. The second it dropped down, he popped the cap open and started chugging. His companion looked slightly horrified, saying, "Why are you inhaling that water bottle like it's oxygen?"

As the last drops fell, he threw away the bottle. "I was drinking ryncol." It was 100% placebo, but that alone made him start feeling a little better. Or maybe it was just the blood pumping from knowing he might get to pull out his sniper in a few minutes.

He hadn't done any target practice in weeks.

Though he started walking again, the turian gaped. "Why?" But as Garrus started walking faster, wanting to get somewhere, accomplish something, it was like the guy could smell his boiling blood. "Spirits, are you gonna get me killed?"

Garrus laughed at the thought. "If Shepard didn't kill me, neither will a Blood Pack krogan."

"Do you mean Saren?"

"No."

They walked down the next few blocks, and nothing seemed more illegal or sketchy than the rest of Omega was. They even got to pass a raving Batarian prophet, and that still didn't feel all that insane. He'd really gotten used to Omega, hadn't he?

All of a sudden, his walking buddy stopped in a slightly dimmer alley, where a few lights were out and no one was waiting for them. Garrus was hoping that he was just lost or looking for a right door to give a password, but the longer the other turian itched at his face, Garrus realized things were probably going to get complicated.

Garrus gave the guy the benefit of the doubt. "Is this the right place?"

"Yeah, I was supposed to meet him right here... five minutes ago."

Before Garrus could say anything about it obviously being a set-up, and that the krogan probably just wanted him dead, he could hear a weapon gearing up. Shoving the new guy down to the ground, he pulled out his sniper. While this wasn't exactly the best way to get back in the fight, he had to admit it felt damn good to hold in his hands again.

"Why didn't you gthink this was a set-up?"

"Let's just say being on the "good guy" side of this is new to me."

"Great, I always dreamed of a back alley firefight with an ex-merc." Glancing over their cover, he could clearly see three vorcha at the other end of the alley, probably two or three more he couldn't see. They always travelled in fairly large numbers, even for a small hit.

Next to him, the other turian asked, "Really?" Though he clearly whiffed the safety protocols of this meeting, he pulled out an SMG and was doing good work suppressing the Vorcha. Garrus had to give him that much credit.

But that didn't excuse his question, and he rolled his eyes. "No, this is hardly my favorite place to get murdered."

"What, do you have places you'd prefer?"

"For practicality? Gun expo or military base. For style? Gardens, electronics stores, antique shops, but only if they're classy."

Even though he seemed caught off guard and a little stressed, the guy laughed. "You're insane."

"What else did you expect? A healthily functioning ex-Spectre hunter?"

"You got me there." They downed one of the Vorcha, and another was at least down for the count because Garrus got a good shot straight through his leg, but the other three that they'd seen were still putting up a fight. His shooting buddy said, "On your left." Garrus swiveled and got a headshot on one of them while he was trying to get in for a closer shot.

Then the guy asked, gesturing to the gun, "Do you bring a sniper everywhere?"

"Yeah. This is my favorite gun." Garrus got the another Blood Pack goon when it popped its head out to check for them. But just as he was going to tell the other turian to close in on him, the final vorcha came out from behind the corner, holding his shotgun to the head of a civilian. From the looks of him, a shell-shocked shopper. Lowering his gun, Garrus said, "Fuck."

"Drop your weapons or I kill him."

The other turian stood up without even thinking about it, letting his SMG clatter to the ground. Garrus was looking between the two, trying to calculate what made the most sense. But seeing someone scared, he started wondering what Shepard would do. The bigger surprise was that for the first time in over a month, thinking of her didn't hurt so bad. Before he could get lost in the feeling, his shooting partner toed him. "Vakarian, drop the gun." He growled, still not quite sure how to handle the situation, but did.

"Good, now-"

After taking even a second to look at the vorcha, he realized none of them had a chance if they let him call the shots. He remembered the Blood Pack members he'd fought while on the Normandy; prisoners weren't their speciality. Taking a page from Shepard's book, he pulled out his pistol, used his visor for quick aiming, and shot. The vorcha dropped, leaving a mortified hostage standing in front of his corpse. Garrus told him, "Get out of here."

Guy didn't have to be told twice.

As he picked his sniper back up, the turian asked, "Where'd you learn to do that?"

"The most terrifying woman with a pistol in the entire Galaxy." Lucky for Garrus, the guy let him leave it at that.

They walked up to the last vorcha left, his leg bleeding. "You tell your boss that he better watch his ass around the wards, or he'll be dealing with us." For a second, the vorcha just stared at them, but then Garrus added, "Go!" And the vorcha didn't need to be told twice, either.

It wasn't geth ships and Reapers, but for a minute there, he felt like himself again. The person he was with her. Sure, that still fucking stung, but it didn't feel empty. It was the first thing that didn't feel empty in a long time.

Next to him, the turian chuckled. "That was pretty forward, assuming I want to team up with your crazy ass again."

"Says the man who begged me to help him." Holstering both of his weapons, he was ready to walk back onto the streets. They didn't need to fight everyone on Omega tonight. But walking side by side with this turian, his wheels started turning. He didn't want to lose this feeling. This was the closest he'd felt to her, to himself, since before the Normandy's destruction ripped all that away from him. He tried to act casual, but he knew what he was offering wasn't casual. It was fucking life or death. But maybe that's what made it feel right, like what he should be doing. Garrus asked, "What if this wasn't a one time thing?"

They walked out of the alley, and his new friend seemed to think it was a joke, his adrenaline-boosted shoulders still shaking a little. "What, asking me on a date here?"

"I'm serious. You were right, the mercs run these people into the ground. Let's do something about it." The turian stopped dead, next to him. Maybe Garrus was reaching, and maybe this was crazy, but... "I'm game if you are."

"Serious?"

"Serious."

He couldn't really make out his face, if he thought Garrus was talking out of his ass. And he didn't really look too sure of himself when he finally looked at the sniper, but he started to smile. There was a fire there in his eyes that Garrus could see growing. "Alright, I'm game, too."

"Good." Just as they started walking again, Garrus found himself in a situation so untactful that it was almost Shepard-like. Maybe that was a good sign. Scratching his head, he asked, like an idiot, "Since I just agreed to risk my ass with you, what's your name, anyway?"

"Lantar." The guy extended his hand and Garrus shook it. And when he did, it felt good, like he was finally doing something with his life again. Maybe things were starting to look up for him, even without Shepard. He already got one guy to join his own, reckless crusade. The turian named Lantar finished off with, "I'm an ex-informant for the Blue Suns, Lantar Sidonis."

///

OH BOY I was such an asshole writer about avoiding his name til the end.

I'm sure quite a few of you figured it out before we got there, but I'm still hyped about doing it.

Anyway, much thanks from my patrons:

Danyell Jones

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[bioware-reacts]

I honestly didn't think I was ever going to find another reactions blog that included Mass Effect characters ever again. Mass Effect companions react to Shepard pulling a prank on them every once in a while.

That was my thoughts as well, that’s partly why I made this blog! - Mod Jade

Garrus: honestly it kind of scared him at first, not that the turian would ever admit that. Pranking isn’t really a cultural thing with turians, so when Shepard first pulled a prank on him, he thought it was some kind of punishment for doing something wrong. Once Shepard explained the concept to him however, he was actually pleased to be on the Commander’s list of friends, even if he didn’t start really retaliating until ME2. If Romanced; same initial reaction, only when he begins to retaliate, he and Shepard tend to up the ante every prank until things get totally out of hand. But it brings them closer together and they laugh about it afterwards.

Ashley: she was not impressed to be pranked by her Commander. Seriously, the great Commander Shepard? This immature? But she does have a lot of sisters, so she sees the fun in it, and usually joins in with the Commander’s pranks on the crew members, even pulls a few on Shepard in revenge. If Romanced; “if you wanted me in bed, you could have asked instead of dousing me with water Shepard!” Ash is always on the look-out for pranks, and Shepard has to be extra-sneaky in order to catch her off guard.

Kaidan: he’s pretty upset by it when it first happens, at BAaT the only pranks ever pulled on him were cruel, not in the spirit of play. Shepard will stop if he asks them to, otherwise he won’t say anything to the Commander about the pranks they pull, just to disappoint them as they wait for a reaction. If Romanced; Shepard loves him, so it couldn’t possibly mean to upset him, he knows that. He starts to see the fun in pranks, and pulls a few of his own against Shepard, but they’re really bad and he gets found it almost immediately. Shepard trains him in the art of pranks, and soon they’re both pranking their squadmates like there’s no tomorrow.

Wrex: Wrex’s first reaction, like with anything, was to see it as a challenge to catch the other off guard. Who the better warrior was depended on how many succesful pranks one pulled, and Wrex was determined to be the winner. It made life on the Normandy a little more chaotic as Wrex vowed to prove himself the best prankster on the ship. 

Liara: like Garrus, she was frightened by the first incident, as she didn’t know enough about humans to know it was just a bit of fun and thought Shepard was angry with her. Shepard explained to her that humans did that among friends, and again the asari misunderstood the concept of pranks and when trying to reciprocate her pranks were a little...wrong. Like putting a dead mouse in Shepard’s desk, and tossing all of Kaidan’s boots out the airlock. Shepard had to sit her down and teach her how good-natured pranks should be. If Romanced; Aprils’ Fools Day is Liara’s favourite human holiday. It’s an annual tradition that she and Shepard pull elaborate and escalating pranks on each other throughout the day, no matter where they are. Liara once sent a package of sticky glitter to Shepard from Thessia, and couldn’t stop laughing when Shepard got her on the vid, covered in glitter even after three weeks. 

Tali: she was angry at first, thinking the act was out of cruelty, and angrily confronted Shepard about their prank. Once she understood the concept though, she didn’t mind so much. She never attempted any pranks of her own. Well, none that you can prove anyway. Tali has an excellent way of getting others to do her bidding for her, leaving a very paranoid Shepard. If Romanced; she thinks it’s sweet, Shepard’s sharing their sense of humour with her and they know they’re close enough that Tali understands that, so she never minds the pranks, even if they scare her sometimes. She still retains her habit of getting others to prank Shepard back in retaliation, especially EDI.

Zaeed: hates it. forever and always. Shepard would be wise to never make an attempt to prank Zaeed again. Not if they value their life. And their favourite rifle.

Legion: seriously doesn’t get it. the idea of doing semi-bad things to people you like confuses him, organics are so weird. Not many pranks successfully work on him anyway, his processors usually alert him to any abnormalities there may be in the AI Core and he’s quick to remove them. 

Grunt: like Wrex he sees it as a challenge. a personal one. Grunt’s too big to go skulking around the Normandy without being noticied, so he saves his pranks for shore leave. they’re usually pretty crazy too, and he usually ends up in lockup for a few hours with Shepard and whoever else he decided to pull pranks on. Grunt loves them, they’re really fun and it’s like a bonding exercise with his krantt for him, it makes him feel like he belongs somewhere for the first time since he left his tank. 

Jack: oh-ho-ho no. you want to dance Shepard? then let’s dance. Jack at first is extremely pissed, she feels disrespected and threatened, and no matter what Shepard tells her she’ll still resent it. Doesn’t stop her from dishing it back though. Shepard and Jack’s pranks are usually on the violent and often dangerous side, and funnily enough it causes them to grow closer. Jack thinks it’s fun, the more dangerous the outcome the better, and appreciates how Shepard can take as much as they dish it out. If Romanced; the pranks take a more...sexual turn. And Jack has a few tricks up her sleeve to gain the upper hand in that regard. Honestly the amount of times Shepard’s clothes have gone ‘missing’ when they go for a shower, or Jack’s wardrobe is replaced with frilly under garments and baby pink dresses is ridiculous.    

Miranda: she honestly hates the idea and thinks it’s so immature, not to mention time-wasting. They’ve got a job to do! Even though she hates the stupid childish behaviour, you better believe she’ll retaliate for her pride if nothing else. If Romanced; the back-and-forth pranks are like a dance of dominance, just which one of us is the best Shepard? who’s more intelligent, quick-witted, creative, and secretive? they turn it into a competition, and they’re especially competitive when they turn their pranks on their squadmates instead of each other.  

Jacob: he’s served in the Alliance, and he’s seen coping mechanisms like this before. Shepard is annoyed with his reaction to their pranks being to suggest they have a talk with Kelly. Shepard quickly loses interest in pranking Jacob, but every now and then Jacob will prank Shepard in little ways; like putting super-glue on their coffee cup, and Shepard will never suspect him. He’ll just be chuckling in the background as they go crazy over finding out who pranked them. If Romanced; he’s caught in the act once, and Shepard realizes Jacob’s actually more into pranking than they believed. In fact his sense of humour is almost on par with theirs, why don’t they show it more often? Jacob usually only pranks Shepard when they’re alone, like in their cabin, he doesn’t make it a public spectacle. But Shepard can’t resist embarrassing Jacob in front of the whole ship.

Kasumi: she loves it, thinks it’s good fun. she never gets caught setting up pranks of her own, and the mystery pranks are always blamed on Shepard by the rest of the crew. Shepard and Kasumi love to mess with each other, replacing their weapon’s ammo with shells of salt, their shampoo with shaving cream, switching the labels on similar-looking foods, etc. the crew usually stay out of the way when those two are on a pranking spree.

Thane: he finds it amusing, he used to play little tricks on Irrikah sometimes, and it’s nice to have something to genuinely smile at. the fact that he’s always so stoic when pranking Shepard back makes it difficult to be caught at it, and honestly just makes it funnier for Shepard. If Romanced; it reminds him of happier times, and it hurts just a little, especially when he lapses into solipsism, but he appreciates the little distractions from the gloomier things in his mind. He appreciates Shepard’s humour too, and is always so smug when a prank against Shepard goes just right. 

Samara: she doesn’t necessarily understand the pranks or their purpose. most of time they don’t affect her, but she makes sure to react accordingly so Shepard is happily satisfied with their work. she finds it cute, it makes her think of her daughters when they were young. so she always indulges Shepard to make them happy.

EDI: “I don’t ‘like’ things the way organics do, but I enjoy the complexity of the challenge that these pranks present. it is...fun.” EDI is eager to learn more about humour and organics- especially human humour at that. EDI really likes to try and set up her own pranks, that are usually so cringeworthy Shepard loves them. Joker often joins in her pranks or gives her new ideas. He regrets that when she becomes EDI’s next prank victim.

James: James can’t get enough of the pranks to be honest, things like that is what makes the Alliance great. But it’s what makes the Normandy crew especially great. He loves to feel that comradeship between the crew members, but he thinks it’s totally awesome to see that level of casualness in his Commander. He’ll always prank them back, they usually involve covering Shepard in various types of substances that are very hard to wash off. Shepard’s involve stealing all his shirts and whistling when he walks around the ship shirtless looking for them.

Javik: primitive bullshit. no thanks.

[the-hound-of-new-vegas]

Only If You Ask

Fandom: Mass Effect Rating: Teen+ for brief language. Characters: Female Shepard, David Anderson, OFC (Mentioned Only) Relationships: FemShep/OFC (Mentioned Only) Warnings: None Notes: Done for @omegastation‘s LGBTQ+ Shepard Week, following the ‘Coming Out’ prompt. Also posted on my A03, here.

Summary: If there's one thing Shepard isn't good at, it's opening up to people. After the first battle of the Citadel, and Saren's defeat, Captain Anderson tries to get the Commander to take a break, and learns a few things about her in the process. 

Sometimes it seemed impossible to get Shepard to open up about her past. It was common knowledge that she was from Earth, though no one was sure from where on Earth, and that she was the only survivor of a thresher maw attack. Besides from those two facts, however, the average person knew jack shit about the Alliance soldier. They weren’t exactly aware of it, but the truth was that Shepard was an enigmatic creature. With a sly smile, a shift of her gaze, and the twisting of a few honeyed words, she could make someone think they knew her perfectly… when in reality, she was as unknown to them as the far reaches of space.

Admittedly, not everyone was fooled by her charisma. That was why Captain Anderson always tried to read between the lines, ask one more question than necessary, and make note of even the ‘trivial’ matters. Shepard was his best soldier, and he wanted to be able to say he knew her. Really knew her, not just like most did, but like his commander had known him. Of course, he’d have no easy time of it. There was no easy way to get Shepard to speak of little-known facts. If you were to learn anything of her, anything at all, it would be by her volition.

“They’ve earned a break, that’s for sure. This whole… thing,” Shepard said, gesturing widely with her hands to accent her point, “has certainly been hard on us all. It’s not really over, even with Saren dead… but we need a breather. All of us.” With a sigh she moved her arms to rest them on the railway, gazing out at the Citadel’s embassy. As far as she could tell, all the fires had been put out, though there was still plenty of reconstruction to be done. It bothered her to see such a beautiful place in pieces, enough so that she almost didn’t catch the Captain’s reply.

“If anyone on the Normandy deserves a break, it’s you, Commander,” Anderson responded, gaze drifting over the distant buildings. There was a toughness to his eyes, evidence that he felt some of the same emotions as Shepard. “You’re lucky Chakwas herself gave you the good-to-go, otherwise I’d still have you holed up in the hospital,” he added, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye.

“Is that so?” Shepard challenged, chuckling lowly.

“You bet. Most people don’t get to walk away just a few days after having a piece of shrapnel go straight through their chest, Shepard. I know you’re tough… but even you need to sit back every once in awhile, just let the rest of us take care of things,” the Captain continued. He kept his arms folded behind his back, unsure of whether or not a pat on the back would be appropriate. After all, there was a chance that Shepard was still hurt worse than she was letting on.

Based on the way she was favoring her non-dominant leg, that ‘chance’ was less like a chance, more like a guaranteed fact of life. At this point, Anderson knew the woman well enough to understand that she wasn’t comfortable with appearing vulnerable. The trait often caused trouble, like at the current moment, seeing as Shepard rarely ended up in tip-top shape. She never rested as much as any of her superiors would have preferred, and always pushed herself past her limits.

Now, as she turned to look at Anderson, it showed more noticeably than it had in months. Dark circles lay under her eyes, and the edges of a few bandages could be seen peeking out from the collar of her shirt. The fight with Saren had taken a toll on her- perhaps an even greater one than the Captain had originally anticipated. Just another reason to make her go on shore leave, he thought.

“I’ve taken worse hits,” Shepard finally protested, trying to brush off the severity of her injuries. “Saren was a soft ‘lil bastard compared to a thresher maw.” A crooked grin spread onto her lips, pure smugness radiating off of her. It was probably just a front, of course, but Anderson didn’t feel like trying to break it down. So he switched tactics, hoping that there’d be something else that’d convince the woman to slow down for once.

“I’m in no position to argue with you on that one,” he admitted, letting Shepard have that small victory. “Still, don’t you want to take a few days to relax? Talk to some old friends, grab a few beers, maybe play a few rounds of golf?” That last part was a long shot, and he wasn’t surprised when Shep responded with a scoff. “Alright, alright, didn’t think so. But do you really not have anybody at home? Family, friends, maybe a boyfriend?”

Casual indifference had been the expected reaction. But a visible tensing of the shoulders, a quick look away, and the tapping of a foot against tile?... No, Anderson hadn’t expected Shepard to seem so perturbed by the suggestion. Concerned, he quickly tried to recover.

“... Girlfriend?” Shit, he thought, mentally scolding himself. To his surprise, however, the woman notably relaxed, even popping a bit of a smirk. Shepard leaned more of her weight on the railing, almost seeming to scan the distance for a loved one. Part of Anderson had always had a feeling that she wasn’t really into men, based partially on the way she looked at Williams, but he had never felt the need to pry into that part of the soldier’s life. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he added, moving to stand next to Shepard. “Maybe you should take her out to dinner. I’m sure there are a few nice restaurants around here that would take ‘saving the galaxy’ as a reasonable excuse for not having a reservation.”

“Yeah, there are probably a few, at least,” Shepard replied, letting out an oddly natural laugh. It wasn’t often that she let this side of her show- the grinning, giggling mess with bright eyes and a sharp tongue. “It’s a shame we’re… ah, how do you say it?... Taking a break, I guess,” she continued, somehow not losing any of her smile. “I may or may not have missed her graduation because of Eden Prime. And, ya know, that whole ‘classified information’ thing can make excuses a little hard to come up with. ‘Oh, sorry honey, I was just taking a bit of a nap, then I just had to tell the council about this wicked weird dream I had! Won’t happen again, probably, I promise!’”

Not entirely sure how to respond, Anderson simply kept admiring the view, hoping that his silence wouldn’t be taken as disinterest. The fact that Shepard was being this open was a bit shocking, really, and he had no intentions of shutting her down.

“Guess this might be a good time to try and make it up to her, though. Might mean a few more people find out about her, but I can live with that. I mean, someone’s gonna spot the famed Commander Shepard at pride one of these days anyway, right? Heh, ‘s not even like I mind anyone knowing, really. Just… don’t talk about it much… Wait, shit, am I rambling?” Shepard asked, suddenly aware of the fact that she had just divulged more information about herself in two minutes that she had in the whole past month.

At first Anderson didn’t bother giving her an actual response, instead simply chuckling quietly. There was something so amusing about Shepard, of all people, getting flustered. A struggle for the survival of all of mankind? She could handle that. But a little conversation about her girlfriend? That, evidently, was enough to make her a bubbly little mess.

“You’re really something, Shepard,” Anderson laughed out, flashing a grin to the woman next to him. “Now, you better go call up that girl of yours, apologize for missing her big day, and offer to take her to any restaurant on the Citadel, your treat. Well, mine, really, but don’t let her know that. Understood, Commander?”

“Aye-aye, Captain!” The woman answered, snapping into a quick salute, a grin plastered on her face.

“Good, now get going!” He finished, jokingly shooing her away. Though her limp slowed her down a bit, Shepard moved to the exit fairly quickly, only pausing to wave goodbye to her boss. The universe really doesn’t make many like you, Shep, Anderson thought, shaking his head with a little laugh. With that he turned back to the railing, gazing out into the distance. There was still so much to be rebuilt, so much to be done, but he knew as well as anyone that they’d have to take it one step at a time. Maybe I’ll take a break too, for once in my life, he thought. The sound of his omni-tool getting a new message interrupted his musings, and he let out a quiet sigh. Then again… maybe not.