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Shepard braced herself against the wall of the shower and let the cold water skate down her back.
EDI’s soothing voice echoed in the small room. “Commander, this is third time this week you have showered with the water at sub-optimal temperatures. Scans indicate no injuries beyond what you reported after your last mission. Should I alert Dr. Chakwas that you will be coming down for some tests?”
“No, EDI. I’m fine. Leave it.”
“Yes, Commander.”
The doctor had bigger problems than dealing with Shepard’s lack of love life. Besides, cold showers and, um, taking matters into her own hands were working out fine for now. Eventually, she’d have to deal with the larger, turian-shaped issue, but nobody else could help her with that.
Hell, if it were just sex, it would be easy. On an Alliance ship, sex was as common as drinking games and target practice, no matter what the regs said. She’d propositioned plenty of people throughout her military career and was no stranger to rejection. Besides, technically this ship was a Cerberus vessel, not even under Alliance military jurisdiction. She could bloody well make her own rules.
Goddamn it. If only Garrus weren’t her friend and the one person she could trust in this whole galaxy right now. If she screwed something up with him, she’d never forgive herself.
Shepard turned the water colder, somewhat viciously, and hissed when it hit her. All these cybernetic enhancements and she still couldn’t control her libido. At least she was mooning over a turian — that was a nice fuck you to Cerberus and almost made her discomfort worthwhile.
But she’d have to mention something, and soon, before she used up all the ship’s water. If he rejected her — and why wouldn’t he? They weren’t even the same species — at least she’d have closure. Truth be told, she’d be devastated. But she’d recover eventually and the air would be clear. She could move on. She wouldn’t be passing him heat sinks on the battlefield and hoping his hand would brush hers when he took them. She could go back to being Commander Shepard and not this mooning, lovesick human spending her nights watching turian sex vids on the extranet.
She turned the water off, disgusted with herself.
Goddamn it, Vakarian. Damn you for making me lust after a someone with mandibles.
#
She was staring at his mandibles again.
He was trying to tell her about the changes he’d made to the ship’s weapons algorithms, rattling off numbers as if she actually cared about them. And all she could do was watch his mandibles — when they stuck close to the sides of his mouth and when they flared. She wondered what they would feel like under her fingertips. What they’d feel like under her tongue.
“Shepard?”
She ran a hand through her hair, an old habit she hoped he would interpret as general fatigue and not her embarrassment at being caught in yet another fantasy. “Hm? Oh, sorry. Just thinking.”
“About the Collectors? We’ll stop them, Shepard, don’t you worry,” he said. She loved it when he comforted her these days; it was such a nice change from the Garrus she’d first met, the one who’d kept her on a pedestal and had only seen her as a mentor. Now he was a peer and a friend first. Her best friend. “Try to think about something else once in a while,” he continued. “I know it seems as if there isn’t anything else that matters, but there is. You have to laugh sometimes, to remember what we’re fighting for.”
She leaned back on the crate. “And what makes you laugh these days, Vakarian? Don’t tell me Joker has finally discovered the secret to turian humor.”
“Hardly,” he said. “But I don’t lack for good moments, Shepard, not since you helped me with Sidonis.”
“But I didn’t let you kill him,” she said, surprised. “I stopped you from getting what you wanted.”
Garrus turned away for a moment and she cursed herself for saying the wrong thing. Again. She still wasn’t sure if what she’d done — convincing him to let Sidonis go — had irreparably damaged the bond between them.
“I was angry at first. I can’t deny that,” he said. “I couldn’t understand why you were trying so hard to save him after what he’d done to my team. Spirits, Shepard, you put your own head in my crosshairs.”
“Don’t remind me,” she grumbled. But really, she hadn’t been worried — not about that. No one had ever had her six like Garrus, and there was no version of the galaxy in which he’d take the shot if there were a chance of hurting her. Trust and friendship were powerful forces. They weren’t uncommon in the military, but what she and Garrus had… well, it was damn special. “You don’t seem as angry now.”
He took a tentative step towards her and Shepard’s heart gave a little leap to meet him. But it was a false step, and he quickly retreated back to the safety of his control panel.
Garrus shrugged. “I finally realized that it wasn’t Sidonis you were trying to save.”
She stared at him, her thoughts raw, and found herself speechless. He was right, of course. She just hadn’t thought he’d figure that out so soon. And maybe not ever.
“And that makes you… happy?” she asked carefully.
“Yes,” he said. “There’s no one in the galaxy I respect more than you, Shepard, and the fact that you… that I’m…”
Garrus didn’t fluster easily. This was hard for him. She wanted to help, but she didn’t know how. Hell, she’d faced a rogue Spectre, a reaper, and had literarily died and come back to life, and this conversation was what tripped her up. Commander fucking Shepard, indeed.
Well, time to grow a quad. She took a step closer. Not a big one, but an obvious one. An invitation. Garrus looked into her eyes and seemed to see it for what it was.
“It makes me happy to be here on the Normandy,” he said finally. “Fighting the good fight. Helping people. Making a difference. Hopefully saving the galaxy against overwhelming odds and kicking some Collector ass along the way. That’s all I’ve ever really wanted. And the fact that I get to do it all with you…well, that just makes it all even better.”
“Garrus…”
He smiled. She could tell when he did that now. It wasn’t just his mandibles flaring or the slight tilt of his head, it was everything about the way he was standing there and looking at her. Somewhere during the last few months, she’d learned how to read read him as easily as she read anyone, mandibles be damned.
“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, Shepard. I’d walk into hell with you. You only have to ask, and I’ll go grab the guns.”
It was the most intimate thing he’d ever said to her. Not the words, exactly, but the way he said them. The soft vocals, the vibrating subharmonics. Her hands trembled — the damn traitors — and she clasped them behind her back to make them stop.
A good soldier took opportunities when she saw them. A good soldier did not back down in the face of adversity. A good soldier did not die of embarrassment… probably. “Hell’s not the only place we could go,” she heard herself say. “We could… go up to my cabin.”
His eyes widened and his head jerked back as if she’d tried to punch him in the face. So much for being subtle. Her mind screamed Abort mission. Abort! But it was too late. The missiles were away.
“Shepard! I…didn’t know you had a weakness for men with scars.”
Oh, god, he’s deflecting with jokes. Trying to let her down easy, because he respected her. Respected, but didn’t want. She ignored the sudden rush of heat to her cheeks. Maybe the joking was good. They could laugh this off. They could pretend it was all in fun, their usual banter gone just one step too far. Survival was still possible, if only she could see her way through the fog of humiliation. Where was a pithy comeback when she needed one? Something about critical mission failure or salarians. Salarians were always good for a laugh.
But the jokes didn’t come, and her mortification magnified to truly epic proportions. She started to turn away, to get her bearings and figure out some way to recover, when she felt his familiar, three-fingered hand wrap around her bicep and pull her back.
“Shepard,” Garrus said again, his voice softer.
She turned and found him staring at her, a question in his blue — really goddamn blue — eyes. He didn’t release his grip on her arm and she felt his thumb brush lightly over her skin. Yes, he was definitely asking her a question. She answered him by pressing her palm to the side of his face, marveling at the strange textures. He leaned into her touch.
“I thought you were just teasing me, Shepard,” he said. “But you weren’t, were you? Spirits, if you were, tell me now before I get myself in any more trouble. Because I’m about to do things we will both regret if you weren’t really serious about that offer.”
She'd never been more serious about anything.
Shepard stepped closer and pressed her lips to his mouth, approximating a kiss. She’d thought it would be awkward, and it was. She thought it might feel nice, but she couldn’t have been more wrong. It felt fantastic. Garrus seemed to think so, too, if the way his breath hitched was any indication.
Shepard sighed, her body relaxing for the first time in months, even as deep parts of her sparked to life. She lost herself in the simple act of their mouths touching, amazed at his sudden closeness, at his smell, astonished at this almost impossible turn of events. She’d done nothing but lust after him for months, but now, oddly, it was her heart that seemed ready to burst.
One of his hands slid down and pressed against her lower back, drawing her even closer. Such a simple thing, and it nearly undid her. He wanted her. He wanted her. She wasn’t on a pedestal now, some statue carved of marble. She was all soft flesh and racing blood. The way things were going, she’d be a goddamn bonfire before too long.
Eventually, she pulled back, wanting to see his eyes and hear his voice. Oh, god, how she loved his voice. She was learning to love his hands and his tongue, too. But if they kept doing what they were doing, her knees were going to give out right here in the main battery.
Which, all things considered, wouldn’t be such a bad thing.
“It’s not just because of the scars, you know,” she said, running a light fingertip over his scarred mandible. “Although I’ll admit that they give you a certain roguish charm.”
“I’ll take all the help I can get.” He nipped playfully at her finger. “If only I’d known you had a fetish for turians, we could have done this a long time ago.”
“Not all turians, Vakarian,” she said, smirking up at him. “Just you.”
He growled and pulled her close, his kiss more confident. More urgent. Shepard, as always, gave as good as she got.
“I don’t think I’m going to mind hell very much, if we get to keep doing this while we’re there,” he said.
She hadn't thought it possible for his voice to get any sexier, and yet somehow he'd managed it. He teased her earlobe with his tongue and she heard herself make a small noise. The sort of noise she had not made in a very, very long time.
“Hell sounds great, but I still think we should try my cabin first.”
Garrus laughed. With his face so close to hers, she could feel the vibrations all the way down to her toes. She wanted to feel them forever.
He said, “You lead, and I’ll follow, Commander.”
The always was unspoken, but she heard it all the same.
#
Much later, Garrus called from the bathroom. “Shepard, why is your water set to Noveria temperatures? Are you trying to kill me?”
Shepard lay naked on the bed, her skin slick with sweat and her breath still coming in happy, exhausted rasps. She grinned. “Shut up and come back to bed, Vakarian.”
“No, seriously, was this a death wish? Because if you’re trying to give yourself hypothermia, I may need to rethink this interspecies liaison. Turians don’t do well in the cold.”
She groaned. “So you’ve said. If there are future…liaisons… I promise to keep the water at more turian-friendly temperatures.” Another joke masking something more serious. Since when had she gotten so hesitant and careful?
The answer was easy: since she’d found something she didn’t want to lose.
Garrus poked his head out from the bathroom door. He looked so different without his visor on. Different, and still damn good. “The water would heat up faster if you joined me.”
“Is that so?”
“Please, Shepard. It’s science.”
She laughed, pulled herself off the bed, and headed for the shower.