Work Text:
‘We, ah, ended up holding a tiebreaker in her quarters… I had reach but she had flexibility…’
Just stop talking. Just close your mouth and go back to your calibrations. Garrus half-begged himself but he continued his story, rather calmly even if he did say so himself.
This wasn’t a conversation one should have with their commanding officer. Even if one’s commanding officer happened to be Commander Shepard. Especially becauseGarrus’ commander was Commander Shepard and yet… He couldn’t stop the words pouring out of his mouth.
Shepard’s eyes were bright, her expression interested and she smiled as he told his story. He wished he knew what she was thinking. She probably was thinking that he should stop talking and get back to work. But if she was thinking that she was also the type to point out that they had better things to be doing then chatting.
Garrus had a problem. It was quite a serious problem. He no longer thought of her as Commander Shepard; human, decorated Spectre, the crème de la crème of the Alliance navy, the woman who had cheated death, the woman who defeated Saran, who planned to take out the Collectors... No. He hadn’t seen her as that Commander Shepard for quite a while.
Now she was… Shepard. Intelligent, brave… and beautiful. Beautiful in a way he had never seen in a human before. He respected her far beyond her role as Commander. She was a friend. Perhaps one of the only people in this rotten universe he could truly depend on.
If she asked him to, he would go to Hell and back for her. She wouldn’t even have to order him to do it. In fact, she wasn’t ordering him to do it. They were all but preparing a one way ticket to Hell and he was a proud, willing volunteer.
He felt a ridiculous urge to protect her. Not from Cerberus or the Collectors or even the Reapers, but from herself. Shepard tended to overwork herself, to be rash in her decision making and throw herself into more danger in one day than one person should expect out of an entire lifetime. Garrus liked to think that Shepard needed him as much as he needed her. She always calmed him when he thought he might cross the line and never look back, he hoped one day to do the same for her.
… And he was still talking.
‘More than one way to work off stress, I guess.’ He finished, clearing his throat and looking away from Shepard.
It’s alright, he told himself, she came to talk to you remember. Just a chat. Between friendly colleagues.
Her words when she entered the battery - Have you got a minute? – had seemed more insistent than usual. More often than not, he was too busy to speak with her between missions. Excluding the evening where he had caught her drinking in the firing range, armed with her shotgun and pent up anger at Kaidan. And then she had… kissed him.
Sort of.
After all, turians didn’t kiss like humans… but it wasn’t unpleasant. Garrus had worked incessantly just to try and keep his mind from wandering, to stop himself from reading too much into intoxicated (intoxicating) Shepard’s actions.
And now he was thinking about it. The way she had smiled, the feel of her skin on his…
‘It sounds like you’re carrying some tension.’ Shepard said and Garrus saw her smile turn into a seductive smirk. ‘Maybe I could help you get rid of it.’
He was sure he misheard her. He had to have done. She wasn’t really… she wouldn’t-
Garrus’ brain refused to process her words. No. He had misheard her. She must have meant sparring. Right? Her eyes were watching him relentlessly and he recognised the heat reflected back at him.
He swallowed. Hard.
‘I, ah, didn’t think you’d feel like sparring, Commander.’
Good. Safe. A good, safe answer.
Why was she standing up? She crossed her arms across her chest and tilted her head at him ever so slightly. Was she trying to read him? Her expression was thoughtful and he had to force himself to keep her gaze. Then he realised he didn’t want her to agree to a simple sparring. He could hardly think and he wanted to say something more but words escaped him.
But Shepard, being Shepard, was direct.
‘Hm. Well, what if we skipped right to the tiebreaker?’
Did she just say what I thought she said? Tight chest. Dizzy mind. Beating heart. Memories of the chaste kiss, the way her body pressed up against him, her touch… How could he say no to that? But she was Commander Shepard and what about the crew…
Calm down. Stop panicking.
‘We could test your reach...and my flexibility.’ Shepard finished with the cool confidence that Garrus wished he had right about now.
‘Oh! I didn’t… Huh.’ Garrus spluttered as he tried to stall for some time to think. However, as he stared into those deep blue eyes, the same eyes he glanced at in the heat of battle, he composed himself. It was Shepard. Just Shepard. His best friend and squadmate. He felt his mandibles flare in a relaxed smile and his subharmonics rumbled as he spoke. ‘Never knew you had a weakness for scars, Shepard.’
Rash, beautiful Commander Shepard. Always willing to throw herself into difficult situations without a moment’s notice. He was thrown, that’s for sure. But was he unhappy with this turn of events? The answer couldn’t have been more obvious.
‘Well, why the hell not?’ He announced and was pleased to see Shepard’s smile widen further. ‘There’s nobody in the galaxy I respect more than you.’
And probably in this universe. He thought as he turned away from her to gather his thoughts. A tiebreaker, huh? That he could do.
‘And if we can figure out a way to make it work, then… yeah.’ He turned back and seeing her stood there, listening intently to every word he added, ‘Definitely.’
She pushed herself away from his workbench then and he saw those wonderfully toned muscles of her ease as she crossed the room. She was suddenly very close to him. As close as they had been during missions but this felt different… intimate and he was sure he heard her breath catch in her throat. Shepard paused and touched his arm.
‘Definitely.’ She repeated with a soft squeeze. Then she let go and he watched her walk away, those delightful hips swaying back and forth.
‘Definitely indeed.’ Garrus chuckled quietly, turning back towards the battery but knowing that he would be getting very little work done for the rest of the day.
Commander Shepard: Spectre, decorated officer, protector of the Citadel…
Friend. Lover.
That was a pleasant, albeit frightening, thought.