Chapter Text
“Kylie, is this necessary?”
“Uh, is it necessary for you to even ask me that question, Sassmaster?” Her voice was muffled, muted, hidden behind an endless stack of Initiative-branded pillows and thick, velvety blankets pressed and clung together to form the perfect canopy towering high above her head in loose, lovely waves. It cocooned her in a total warmth, deep shadows cast over her dark features while bright, ice-blue eyes stood out in a rich contrast against the darkness. “Blanket forts are always necessary – Especially so when you have a shit ton of work to do and would rather die than do it.”
“I believe it would be more beneficial for you to –“
"Nuh-uh!" She shook her head, effectively quieting him. “I thought you were all for fun, my dude.”
“I…” He seemed as if he was struggling to find the words, a blip making him hypothetically clear his throat. “Yes, I am, as you’ve taught me -”
“Say it, then.”
“Kylie, is this really -”
“Say it!”
If she hadn’t seemed so excited to hear him say the dreaded catchphrase she’d programmed into him weeks ago, he would’ve protested more. A slight irritation pulled at his eerily monotonous voice, the undertone of the word enough to hint at sarcasm and drip throughout his words against near-clenched teeth. “Cowabunga, dude. Now, are you happy?”
”Oh,” a grin that positively hurt danced across her face freckled as she melted into a puddle of giggles within the fort, staring up at the canopy ceiling above her head. “Hell yeah! I'm one proud momma. Good job, Sassmaster. That was even better than last time!”
”Now, as I was saying, you need to -”
“Oh, my God - No! Get with the program, Sam!” Her body fell back with a soft thud and a quiet grunt, sprawling out over the expanse of the leather-lined couch. “Blanket forts are in and everything else is out, obviously. Let me do my work in peace inside this fort, okay?”
“While I do not doubt the truth behind that rash statement, I believe it would be much more beneficial for you to sit at your desk while you work. It will help you focus, given your circumstances, and it will –“
“Yadda-yadda, blah,” Kylie fervently shook her head, a tattoo-laced arm reaching out to search for the hem of the blankets pooled above the opening. Fingers found purchase in the soft fabric, wrinkling it in her grip, before giving it a quick yank; They fell over, cascading in endless waves and shrouding the rest of her in a deep, never-ending darkness, locking her away from the world. “You’re the ‘no fun allowed’ robot.”
If Sam could’ve sighed, he would've.
“Jaal,” the blip of his familiar, monotonous voice made the man pause, the lively, humming tool in his hand skittering to a stop as he glanced up from the workbench he’d been immersed in. He almost sounded... Exasperated, if he wanted to reach that far. “I fear it is dire.”
That sentence, let alone the way he had said it, made his body tense, a minuscule amount of hesitation in the artificial intelligent’s almost-tired words enough to make him feel the slightest bit of worry. A brow slowly quirked up, galaxy-like eyes sparing a wary glance up at the tile-lined ceiling. “Might I ask, what, exactly, is dire?”
“I will allow you one opportunity to guess, as that seems to be a game that you and Kylie play frequently.”
“Alright,” Jaal quickly cleared his throat as he closed the shaft of the gun he’d been tinkering with, brows furrowing in thought. An idea hit him, as if it were the most obvious thing, and he grinned, lazy. “Kylie’s locked herself in the galley on a hunger strike again because Vetra forgot to restock that cereal she loves so much. Ah - Blasto's.”
“No – One more try.”
“Okay…" A low hum rumbled deep within his chest, getting to work powering down the rest of his lively workbench. He gasped at the next idea, his movements pausing - This is it, truly. "She’s forwarded spam email to Tann once again, and he’s about to revoke her Pathfinder status because he truly believes that she’s given him ten years of bad luck.”
“No, though I had almost forgotten about that." Sam audibly sighed, the noise awkward and strange. "I had hoped to forget that, actually. It is neither of those, sadly. I fear that she has locked herself in what she is referring to as a ‘fortress of fun’, and refuses to come out. She claims that being eclipsed in darkness will aid in her work." He didn't sound amused, his tone flat. "I do not believe her.”
“Ah,” the look that danced across his face at the thought, joy and warmth intertwining in a sugary concoction that made his chest ache, caused galaxy-like eyes to brim with a happiness that only she could make him feel. “Her beloved blanket fort. Then, she must be having a rough time getting herself to focus on work, yes?”
“Yes.”
With a gentle sigh, he pushed away from the cool metal of his desk. The chair he'd been sitting on skidded back with a loud, near-deafening screech as he stood, muffling the rustle of fabric as he straightened out his rofjinn. “I’ll go and take care of it. Thank you, Sam.”
“Thank you, Jaal.”
“Darling one?” The deep timbre of his voice called out into the eerily empty space of her quarters, the only sound, his heavy footsteps, dotting the air before they came to a still. Bright blue eyes glanced around, taking note of her datapad-stacked desk and the bedsheets mysteriously missing from her bed, before they caught the sight of a square, boxed-in structure over the couches beside her card table.
It looked oddly… Comforting. Warm. Soft and light to the touch, an overwhelming desire for him to grasp handfuls of the velvety blankets laid over its body and to curl up inside of it's promise of protection threatening to swallow him whole -
A slight shake of his head brought his mind back to the task at hand. Focus, Jaal. He cleared his throat. “Are you in here, my love?”
No answer came. He lazily grinned – He’s always down to play this game with her.
“Hmm… I could’ve sworn that I saw my darling one come in here earlier, and I don’t believe I’ve seen her leave since.” A lolling sigh left him as he aimlessly wandered about the room, first heading over to her desk. He picked up a small, miniature statute of the SSV Normandy SR-1 from her desk, turning it in his hands to idly inspect it, before setting it back down with a soft click. “Well, either way, now is the perfect opportunity for me to… Oh, how does she say it?”
A hum rumbled lowly in his chest, his footsteps slowly winding his body towards the pile of fluff stacked high on the leather couch. “Ah, yes – Now I have the opportunity to snoop in her belongings.”
The softest, muted gasp came from within the cushions –
He grinned;
He’s got her.
“Now, where does she keep that diary she’s mentioned so often? The one where Liam has told me about before that mentions how deliciously handsome I am?” He cleared his throat, stomping his feet with each word that left him while he rounded the couch to stand behind it before his steps grew lighter, softer, as if he were walking away.
Only, he wasn’t, instead lying in wait for her to take the bait he's carefully laid out.
The slightest parting from the front of the blanket-filled mess revealed the entrance to her vast, seemingly-endless fort of pure, and utter, comfort. A cautious head filled with tightly-coiled curls slowly peeked through, icy eyes wide with indignance as she searched the room, before she called out. “Jaal Ama –“
“Aha!”
The piercing scream that escaped her as he leaped through the opening, just barely wide enough to fit his massive body, was muffled by his hand. She thrashed under his weight, blankets falling and cushions starting to give way in a mess of noise and rustling, before he wrapped his arms around her and stilled her haphazard tantrum.
“That was so dirty, Jaal!” Arms frantically wiggled free from his grip for small hands to grasp the folds of flesh atop his head, their gazes meeting; Hers was hot and heated, irritation crinkling her dark features, while his was all too smug for her liking, a toothy smirk accentuating heavily-lidded eyes that made her want to melt -
No - She wants to be mad, ignoring the way that her heart skipped a beat when he winked at her, sudden. Her cheeks flushed. She wanted to wipe that grin off of his face. “What the hell?!”
“Sam told me it was dire, so, as you say in your diary,” an arm came up beside her head, bending at the elbow to flex and reveal well-trained muscles, taut and stiff, that made her throat feel dry while he savored her reaction, stunned. “I brought out the big guns.”
“Wow!” Kylie scoffed, her head falling back. “You, Jaal Ama Darav, are rude, and you’re dire, Sam!”
“I know. I apologize, Kylie. I feared we wouldn’t be able to get you back.”
“Oh, I’m not sorry at all, darling one.”
The slightest waggle of his brows when she lifted her head up to look at him made her eyes indignantly roll. A rough, loud sigh, though more akin to a scoff, escaped her as her fingertips slowly trailed down the length of his head, gentle, before her arms opted to wrap loosely around his shoulders. “You know, you’re lucky you’re so goddamn cute.”
“I know,” his words were slightly mumbled, murmured, as he leaned in closer, their noses ever-so-lightly brushing. Bright eyes slowly took in the halo of black curls that danced around her head, framing her face in the sweetest way that made it difficult for him to think, before they trailed down to the indignant pout of her full lips, pulling at his heart in a way that made him melt into a smile. He glanced up, catching her gaze, and a quiet breath left him. “You’re infinitely cuter, though.”
“I know." A soft, slight grin pulled at her full lips, relaxing her into the warmth of the blankets. "Wanna do nothing with me for a little while?”
“I’d love to.”