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Jeff Moreau could never bring himself to like guys like James Vega. Admittedly, not that he liked many people in general, but that kind of empty headed guy, only talking about muscles and guns, was very high on his personal chart of dislikes. The fact that most of the ones he had crossed paths with were also the same people that would chant him “creaky legs” or take particular satisfaction in mockingly calling him “Joker”, asking him to crack a smile every time he had to pass them in the mess hall, didn’t help either.
If that wasn’t enough, Vega had that unbearable everybody should be friends attitude.
Okay, he was attractive, no point in denying that, but since Shepard had brought him aboard the Normandy, he had tried his best to avoid him. He just knew there was absolutely nothing they could share apart from the mission briefs and the weekly game of poker, and he was okay with that.
But as weeks had gone by, going on missions together, and pieces of their past were getting occasionally shared during the card games over a few beers, Joker found himself more and more worried about James’ safety whenever he went on a mission. Their games were a comforting routine, the solace of the small things you have to rely on while the Galaxy is burning around you.
He pictured the Cargo bay empty, silent, just the quiet hum of the engines, no chatter filling the air, and his heart skipped a beat . For the briefest second, he felt a physical ache at the thought of not hearing Vega trying to find new nicknames for him, and Joker always rejecting them.
Chief was the only one he could tolerate, since Vega seemed incapable of speaking to anyone without at least some form of made up moniker, so he had to settle for it. It was definitely better than some of the others he had come up with.
Deep down, a nagging voice somewhere in the most hidden corner of his mind, whispered to him that he had never felt like that about anyone before.
He shook his head and returned to his calculations. What was happening to him? He had to concentrate to evacuate from that godforsaken place that was Despoina, not get lost in empty thoughts.
The alarm alerting the re-entry of the shuttle went off. The pulse had been deactivated, and the team was coming back.
Javik and Cortez reached the deck, but Joker couldn’t see either Shepard nor Vega. His heart skipped far more than one beat , feeling like it was about to stop. He returned to the dashboard to focus and heard Shepard shouting.
“Traynor, alert Chakwas, Vega is wounded!”
Wounded? What?
Joker couldn’t leave the console as they were exiting the planet orbit, but he edged out on the seat and crossed Cortez’s eyes.
“Steve, what happened?”
Cortez sighed and shook his head.
“Before the Brutes started attacking each other, one of them came on to us and pierced James in the stomach with a claw.”
“Fuck.”
His mind completely emptied to leave space to only one thing: they had to get back to the Citadel, fast. And he was the right guy for that.
Despite him denying it until his last breath, Shepard had been shaken by the encounter with the Leviathan. He wouldn’t mention it, carrying on with his duties as normal, but there was a new shadow in his eyes.
He had been very practical about the whole thing, only talking about facts, as usual. Sure, knowing how the Reapers had been created had given them some sort of edge, but this self-proclaimed apex race did not seem keen on helping as much as they could have.
As often in any war, it was now a waiting game. Since James had to be hospitalised for his wounds and the Normandy was in dire need of repairs, Chakwas had ordered all of them to take a few days of shore leave on the Citadel.
Usually, whenever he was on leave there, Joker would mindlessly walk to Afterlife by himself every afternoon. EDI could be a great advisor and friend, but her rationality was not what he needed during certain times. There was something about that place where no one minded him, that he could just sit there and down a few drinks, feeling blissfully intoxicated without having to speak with anyone, not even the bartenders who usually only needed a glance at the empty glass and the credits ready.
But as he was making his way there he surprised himself: he really wanted to go check on James. He hadn’t stopped thinking about him since they had docked, and now he wanted to… chat with him. More likely, hearing him chat up to him, making sure he was okay. Three days had passed since they had docked, and according to Cortez he was doing better.
Joker was lost so deep in his thoughts that he didn’t realise he had already arrived at the ward, and after a moment of hesitation he entered Huerta Memorial Hospital. The receptionist, a smiley Salarian, greeted him.
“Good afternoon, how may I assist?”
“I am… Here to visit a patient. James Vega.”
“Of course. And what would your status be? Friend, colleague, family?”
“Ehm, colleague, I guess.”
The Salarian quickly typed for a few moments on the terminal and then nodded, satisfied, “Room 5-B, just get through the door and follow the corridor, it’s the one on the bottom left.”
Joker nodded and thanked him, still wondering if this was a good idea.
James was awake, sitting on the bed, wearing a white t-shirt and black shorts, a small radio playing on the bedside stand. Of course he was doing bicep curls with a water bottle.
“You never stop, do you?” Joker smirked, leaning against the door and shaking his head.
Vega gave him a surprised expression, but immediately smiled at him, a smile that made the pilot’s ears burn up.
“Hey chief! Nice to see you here.”
“Yeah let’s make it quick. Are you okay?” He limped towards one of the chairs, since the walk from the Docking Bay to there wasn’t exactly short, and sat down.
“Getting there, I need to take it easy for a couple of days, but apart from that I will be as good as new. Just got a new scar too.”
He lifted the t-shirt to show the stitches on his right side, and Joker felt himself swallowing at the sight of his abs, “Yes, that’s… pretty cool.”
“Were you worried about me?”
“No. I mean, yes. A bit. If we lose you we’d have to replace you. I hate doing interviews.”
James gave him a chuckle and stretched, “Trust me, it’s not that easy to get rid of me. How have you been?”
“I am fine.” He really wasn’t fine, especially physically, but it was not the moment to share that, “Are you getting out soon?”
“I should be out of here tonight, just in time for Shepard’s get together at Afterlife tomorrow.”
Joker was not exactly a party person, but the chance of free drinks was always stronger than any dislike for small talk he could have, “Are you sure you’re well enough to go?”
“Hey, some cerveza would definitely lift my mood more than being in here.”
“As long as he’s paying. He can afford it now, it’s not like the days where we had to finance stuff with two credits, a string of fabric and buttons.”
The Lieutenant gave him a hearty laugh, “I’d like to hear more about those times. You never mention much during the poker games.”
Joker shrugged, “There’s not that much to say. Apart from Shepard coming back from the dead. And Horizon. And the Collectors invading the Normandy. You know, stuff you’ve heard already.”
“Yeah but I’d like to hear it from you.”
Joker bit his inner cheek and looked outside, the artificial light outside changing to its orange afternoon shade, “It’s not like you talk about Fehl Prime a lot.”
Vega took a sip from the water bottle, “Point taken.”
It was easier to pack emotions and feelings away during the war, and get on day by day. The attachment created by being on the battlefield together was often strong enough and people like James and Joker knew this very well. But something has slowly creeped in Joker’s heart, something he still couldn’t explain even if he wanted to.
“Anyway, can I get you anything? Place seems pretty cushy.”
"Food is better than back on the ship, I’ll tell you as much.”
The Salarian from reception appeared at the door holding a datapad.
“Mr. Vega? I am sorry, but we just need to do some check ups and then you should be good to go.”
Joker stood up and made his way to the door, absolutely hellbent on not getting any sort of handshake or physical contact that might make him blush, “Right, I’ll leave you to it. I’ll see you tomorrow at 6 at the docking bay?”
“I’ll be a bit late, I need to go somewhere first. I’ll see you at Afterlife.”
“Ohh, man of mystery,” Joker
sneered
, “But sounds good, see you there.”
Afterlife was even more packed than usual. But with people dancing sadly, their arms dangling lifeless at their sides, the most recurrent dance since the Reapers had returned. There was little joy in those movements, and the bar was always crowded with people ordering the cheapest and strongest drinks available.
Joker felt unusually excited at the thought of meeting up with James, and arrived at Afterlife around 7:30. Shepard had been held up so he had just suggested for everyone to make their way to the venue on their own.
However, the pilot’s excitement deflated as soon as he clocked some Marines sitting around Vega, already with an array of empty glasses on the table, so instead he decided to make a beeline for one of the couches in the upper bit to be left alone, again.
He nursed his beer for some time, until James saw him while on his way to the bar.
“Hey chief, what the hell are you doing, drinking here all by yourself? Come on.”
“And here I was hoping for some peace and quiet,” he scoffed. Begrudgingly, Joker followed him to their table.
“Guys, this is Jeff Moreau, but we all call him Joker. He’s the Normandy’s pilot, best there is.”
All of the marines looked at him with their mouths open.
“ That Joker?? Man, you’re a legend! What are you drinking?”
“That manoeuvre you did on Ilos is stuff for the history books!”
“And going to the Omega 4 relay? They'd have to pay much more than they do to even think about something like that.”
While Joker would immediately gloat in other people's reverence, especially marines, knowing that yes, he was the best pilot in the galaxy, those compliments from them took him completely off guard, and all he could do was chuckling and just say “It was nothing.”
“Hey, he’s usually far less modest than this. Liam, go get some beers.”
“On it.”
Joker quickly learned that James’ friends were Liam, Jerome and Chris, and had served with him before Fehl Prime, all coming from the colonies. People that would take pride whenever they’d see Earth on posters or vids, but that had probably seen it only a handful of times, if none at all.
And he had to admit, after a couple of shots, that these marines were not all bad. Sure, they were loud, rowdy, drank more than he could in a week and came up with some very creative insults, but they were fun .
It was easy to see how they’d carefully avoid talking about certain missions, limiting themselves to the before or aftermath of them, while the alcohol started working and making you feel blissfully weightless.
Some dance song Joker could not recognise came up and Jerome’s face lit up.
“Hey, I love this song! Come on guys, let’s hit the dance floor.”
James downed another shot of tequila and gave Joker a complicit gaze as he stood up.
“Don’t even think about it. I am happy here with my beer and my tequila, I will cheer you on from the sidelines.”
“At least come to the dance floor bar?”
As they were bickering with James trying to convince him, Joker noticed an Asari pushing away a human guy from the table next to them.
“Come on baby, some blue sugar is all I need!”
“Leave me alone!” They shouted as the guy kept pulling them towards himself.
“Hey, big guy, leave them alone, they said no.” Bullies were probably at the top of his dislike list, and Joker had opened his mouth without even thinking, possibly at the beer and shots’ fault.
The man was around his age, his eyes wide open and even if Joker couldn’t see the colour, it was clear the guy was off his head on Red Sand.
“Oh, if it isn’t the Normandy pilot, Glass Bones. I wouldn’t be so bold without your Commander around.”
The guy got close to him, and he was tall . With the corner of his eye Joker saw Vega getting next to him, to the point their shoulders were touching. Joker downed the rest of the beer, put the glass back down on the table and stood up.
“I don’t need him around to protect me.” He squared up, still feeling Vega’s gaze on him.
“What are you going to do? Break an arm at me?”
He was going to regret this for a few weeks, but Joker clenched his fist and got ready to strike him in the face, “Gladly.”
A second later, Vega punched the guy so hard he made him fall on the floor.
“Shepard might not be here but he has other friends.”
In less than a minute, the other marines on the dance floor realised what was happening, and when the guy’s friends, two humans and a Turian, closed in on Joker and Vega, a brawl kicked off.
Vega threw a few punches and managed to keep them at bay, but when he loaded yet another punch Joker pulled him away.
“Hey, you need to take it easy, okay?”
“Just one more, come on. Guy deserves it.”
Liam knocked the guy back on the floor, and as it often happens, now the whole dance floor looked like a saloon in one of those old Western vids from the 20th century.
“Well that’s it. I’d say we get out of here before Shepard arrives and sees this mess. The guys will be fine. They’re actually loving this...”
They scuttled out of Afterlife and walked aimlessly in silence for some time until Joker started to giggle, “Man, so much for a quiet night.”
“Hey, it’s still early. Why don’t we go to the Orion Arcade?”
Joker shook his head in disbelief. Almost nobody went to the Orion Arcade. They had practically hidden it in one of the basements of the Silversun Strip: it was where the Earth games from the 20th and 21st century were, with one lousy bar manned by a cranky Volus and that only served Vorcha cola. Nobody ever fully understood how that came to be, it just appeared at some point.
Basically a museum, couples on dates would wander through it and have a try to just give up complaining about how clunky and unrealistic the games were.
Almost nobody went there, apart from Jeff Moreau, who held most of the records on the Arcade machines, as “hatboy”. Apart from one.
“Wait, wait, back up a second. You go to the Orion Arcade?”
“Of course, I used to play those games all the time back in Solana Beach.”
“Didn’t take you for the gaming type apart from poker.”
“Chief, there’s loads you don’t know about me.”
It didn’t take them long to get to the Silversun Strip with the rapid transport, but not many words were exchanged on the ride, the adrenaline still running high. As expected, the Orion Arcade was empty, safe for a Salarian playing a slot machine in the corner. The Volus was as friendly as always.
“Vorcha cola. 2 credits. Enjoy, Earth-clan.”
It was a mystery what ingredients were in Vorcha Cola, and nobody really wanted to know at this point, but it was fermented so it worked fine to get drunk for cheap. James took a sip and winced. “Disgusting, as usual, like expired wine. A guarantee.” They clinked the plastic cup and took another sip, “Were you really going to punch that guy?”
Joker shrugged, “Of course. You would have heard me complaining for a long time, but yeah, couldn’t stand for it. Thank you though, you saved me a row from Chakwas at least.”
James nodded and took another sip. “Just be careful, though.”
“What are you, my mother? I can take care of myself.”
“Course you can.” James gave him a smile. “So, what do you play here?”
“Oh, the usual. Street Fighter, Mortal Kombat, Killer Instinct…”
Joker carefully avoided mentioning that the game he had spent most time on was Puzzle Bobble, the cute flowery one with the dragons shooting the spheres. It was the only one where someone, named “Senorfuego”, kept beating his score, “You?”
“Oh, my favorite is Puzzle Bobble.”
Joker first had to process how confidently James just belted that out, expecting him to never even get close to that kind of game. And a second later, the realisation came.
“Wait a freaking second, you’re “senorfuego”?? The one that keeps beating my score?”
James burst out in a roaring laughter, “You’re “hatboy”? I have been beating your scores since we first docked on the Citadel!”
Joker shook his head, unsure if there was anything stronger than alcohol in the Vorcha Cola considering how absurd the situation was.
“How, why… How have you never mentioned this?”
James shrugged, “I thought no one would be interested, they’re really old games.”
“I just assumed–”
“That I only play shooting, gory stuff? Come on, chief, shooting and punching is fun, but you need a break from it sometimes. Let’s do a 1 vs 1 and see who wins.”
“Loser pays the rest of the rounds for the night?”
“High stakes, I like that.”
Their fingers brushed against each other as they reached for the controllers, and Joker felt himself burning up, his senses both heightened and dulled by the drinks, like he was floating on a cloud. He playfully pushed him with the shoulder as he was winning the round, but then Vega didn’t move, and they spent the rest of the match shoulder to shoulder. Eventually, James won by a hair’s breadth.
“Oh, come on! You’re cheating!”
Joker turned and somehow James’ left hand ended on his right hip, and he was not moving it. Joker could hear his breathing slowing down, and could smell his cologne, his heartbeat busting his eardrums. He took a step back, flustered, and cleared his throat.
“Right, drinks on me. But I need something stronger than this. Let’s go get something on the Silversun Strip.”
There was a corridor that led directly from the Orion Arcade to the Casino, and it was empty. James grimaced and slowed down.
“Hey, are you okay?” Joker laid a hand on his shoulder.
“Yeah, I didn’t exactly take it as easy as I should have. I’ll be fine.”
James turned and stared at him with his brown eyes, glimmering under the neon of the corridor. He realised that there had been a shift in how he felt towards James: he didn’t want to just chat with him anymore. He really wanted to kiss him.
And so he did.
At first James didn’t react, possibly as surprised as Joker was by that turn of events, but after a few moments he pulled Joker closer by his hips and picked up the pace. He gently spun Joker and pushed him against the wall, their tongues chasing each other, until the lonely Salarian emerged from the Arcade and passed them in a hurry, clearing his throat embarrassed.
They both burst out laughing, holding each other's hands.
“Come on, there’s a place I know where we definitely won’t risk another fight, or to embarrass some passerby.”
They got some more beers from a stand in the Upper Wards, and went around the sushi place where an external elevator took them straight to the rooftop without having to go through the restaurant. It was one of the highest points of the Citadel, and it allowed you to almost grasp how vast the station was, and it was empty.
“I come here to be alone, sometimes. It reminds me of Arcturus. Home.”
“It’s not the ocean but it’s not bad at all, chief.”
They sat down on the ledge and remained silent, just listening to the noises of the life of the Citadel, the cars speeding by, the neons flashing rhythmically.
“I couldn’t sleep for weeks after the Collector’s invaded the Normandy.” Joker suddenly broke the silence, the words falling off his chest without even thinking.
James turned to him but didn’t say anything, waiting for him to continue.
“Even now, every time we install something new, even the smallest thing, I get gripped by fear it could happen again. It’s stupid, I know.”
“It’s not.”
James put the beer down, “After Fehl Prime I almost threw my career down the drain. I couldn’t stop thinking about the colonists, ever. Their faces just… Were in front of me all the time. Even drinking didn’t stop it.”
“Do you… Do you still see them?”
“Yeah, but I got used to it. In this job, you either get used to things, or you can’t go on. We don’t have much choice.”
“When you’re right, you’re right.”
Their eyes met again, the green pools of the pilot reflecting in the hazel brown of the Lieutenant, and their mouths came together once more.
“I’ll be honest, I didn't expect your beard to be this soft.”
“I take good care of it.”
James smiled and took his hat off to kiss him on the forehead.
“This is nice,” Joker said leaning on James’ shoulder, gazing in the distance.
“Yeah, this is… really good.”
They didn’t have to talk about the past, they didn’t have to think about the future. It was just them, at that moment, and nothing else mattered.