Work Text:
“We need to talk.”
Meg slid past Garrus before he could answer, but he didn’t protest. It was dark in the rec space of his parents’ Citadel apartment, lacking in the warmth and life it usually held when she visited. It matched the energy of the ward outside; too shadowed to be trusted.
She tried to force a smile as she took a shaking breath and faced him, dropping her backpack on the floor next to the dining room table. “Your parents home?”
Garrus raised an eye ridge and crossed his arms. He’d closed the door on them both, further swathing them in darkness, but in the slated light from the window she could still make out the lines of suspicion along his facial plates and the tension in his arms and chest.
“They already shipped out.”
“Ah.” She shifted her weight. “And left you behind? How rude of them.” The chuckle she let out bounced off both of them, useless.
His face was unchanged. “I didn’t see you at the funeral.”
She winced and held her breath, counted to three. “I left early.”
Garrus waited for more. She shifted her weight again.
“Meg,” he sighed.
She rushed toward him before he could finish the sentence and force her to face any more of her grief. “Don’t start. Please.”
He huffed and frowned down at her, the shift of his facial plates changing the way the shadows framed him. “What do you want?”
“A hug, maybe,” she said, her voice too small.
He shook his head and pulled into him, arms tightening when she found the familiar space beneath his cowl and tucked her head there. “You mean to tell me you came all the way up here for a hug?”
A lump rose in her throat. His hide was suddenly hotter against her cheek. Or maybe her cheek was hotter. Could he tell? Could he feel the tightening in her shoulders that followed his question?
“I’ve done more for less.” She pulled back and smiled at him in time to catch him rolling his eyes.
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
“Excuse me?” she shot back with a laugh.
When his eyes locked on hers again, his mandibles were quirked in a smirk. “And just what-”
She kissed him then, before anymore quips or confrontations or bullshit. She kissed him, leaning as high as her toes could take her and still barely reaching his mouth plates. She kissed him, and let her hands slide from his back to his chest, one hand trailing up to cradle his cheek.
She kissed him, and he kissed her back. But only barely.
Too soon he was pulling away, gaping at her, but still holding her close. “What are you doing?”
“ Trying to kiss you.”
“ Meg .”
“ Garrus .”
“You’re grieving.” He sighed and tried to pull back.
Her nostrils flared and she pulled him close again. “My grief has nothing to do with kissing you.”
“I’m supposed to believe they’re not related?”
“Goddammit, Garrus. I’ve wanted to kiss you my whole fucking life!” She released him and shoved her palms into her eyes, forcing back the burn in them.
After a moment, the gentle drag of his talons against her arms drew her palms down. He cupped her face in his hands and held her gaze.
“Is that true?” It was his turn for his voice to be small.
“Yeah, you idiot.” Her voice was barely a whisper, but she laughed once. “You never noticed?”
“I- I didn’t want to be wrong.” His eyes were burning more than she could have hoped, searing her into the floor, into his touch.
“Well, you weren’t. So can you just kiss me now?”
He didn’t hesitate. In the next second his plates were crashing against her lips as they clumsily found their way to an approximation of a kiss. Their tongues danced together and Meg marvelled at the rich taste of him, so unlike any human she’d ever kissed. Without making the choice, her hands found their way to the sensitive exposed skin at his waist. She was rewarded by his gasp against her lips and the feel of his talons digging into her own waist.
“ Meg .” Her name was a rasp in her ear as he nipped at her neck. It sent a shiver up her spine.
“Take me to your room.”
He startled and caught her gaze for a moment, but she didn’t flinch, and for once he kept his mouth shut. He picked her up and kissed her again in one fluid motion, moving gracefully in the dark as he carried her to his bed.
Meg watched the nightlife colors of the ward outside dance over the wall and ceiling, Garrus’ arm draped over her bare stomach. The soft rattle of his snore mixed near perfectly with the dulled sound of bustle coming through the walls. It was still, and lovely, and everything she had hoped.
She lifted his arm slowly, careful not to jostle him. He was, however, jostled. He blinked up at her slowly and let out a soft murmur of a sound.
“Shhh,” she whispered, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Go back to sleep.”
“What’re you doing?”
“I need to brush my teeth, nosy.”
“Mmmm,” he mumbled, nuzzling under her chin and sending a new flush through her. “Kiss first.”
She rolled her eyes. “Demanding.”
But she did kiss him, softer this time. A sleep ridden, sex-blissed kiss was such a rare and luxurious thing. She would be a fool not to take it and burn it into her memory.
When she pulled back, she held her breath, but instead of waking further he hummed, rolled over, and let out a louder snore. With a shake of her head, she slid off the bed and began tiptoeing about, attempting to wrestle her clothes into something presentable. It was a mostly painless process, but she had never been one for grace.
Meg chanced one more look at the sleeping boy when she reached the door, and instantly regretted it. He looked as exactly at peace as she usually felt when they were together. It was like he’d fallen out of one of her teenage daydreams.
She swallowed and darted away, fighting off the lump in her throat as she scooped up her backpack and continued out the door.
Not even Garrus could ease back the black feeling clawing through her, not forever. The Alliance probably wasn’t much better, but she was running out of options.