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"Officer Vakarian.”
Garrus paused in his pacing and glanced toward the hologram that had appeared in the battery. His subharmonics still thrummed his frustration, but he managed a deep breath. “Yes?”
“My sensors indicate that continued movement over these same region of the floor may result in a loss of structural integrity of the Normandy.”
He cocked his head, his eyes closing as he tried, again, to take a deep breath. “What?”
The AI responded immediately. “I have heard Shepard suggest that Ms. Goto will create holes in the floor due to repeated walking over the same areas without deviation. You were demonstrating similar behavior.”
His mandibles pulled tight to his face as he considered this. “And?”
Now EDI hesitated. “Vocal analysis suggests that the Commander was being facetious with this comment.”
“You were making a joke.”
“Evidently I did not tell it right. Mr. Moreau often suggests that delivery is not one of my strengths.” He could have sworn the AI sounded despondent, and sighed. The last thing he needed right now was to try to comfort the damn ship.
He scrubbed a gloved hand over his fringe. “What can I do for you, EDI?”
“My intention was to suggest that you seem preoccupied, Officer Vakarian. Your calibrations were off by more than 13.4% your usual accuracy this shift, and you have been talking to yourself for the last 27 minutes.”
The AI’s spying on his productivity did little to quell Garrus’s anxiety. “Thanks for the update,” he grumbled, turning back to his calibrations. He just needed to refocus. He’d be fine; Shepard had seemed pleased after their conversation. He hadn’t ruined anything. He hadn’t made an ass of himself, at least not completely.
But his talons were shaking when he placed them over the console.
“May I suggest something, Officer Vakarian?”
Spirits. Did he really need help from the damn AI? “What, EDI?”
He could have sworn she – it – whatever sounded pleased. “Many people find asking others for advice to be an appropriate alternative when they are troubled. Perhaps you would find this strategy effective.”
Garrus was pretty sure that going to Shepard and begging to take back his stupid comment about respecting her would cause him to spontaneously combust.
“I can sort it out on my own, thanks.”
“Are you sure?” Really? The ship was going to second-guess him? “I have been observing Commander Shepard’s behavior and noted that she used this particular strategy recently after a troubling conversation.” The AI paused before adding, “I have also noted that you often follow her example in difficult matters. Perhaps this is such a matter.”
It was easy to imagine what troubles Shepard might be dealing with. You name it, she had it – the Collectors, the Illusive Man, the Council, basically everyone in the Alliance. There was no shortage of people or groups pissed off at Shepard.
What wasn’t easy to imagine, however, was who she was talking to if she wasn’t coming to him. He wouldn’t lie to himself and think that he was her only friend. Shepard made a point to get to know everyone on her crew, and realistically, she got along with most of them. Some, like Miranda, she merely tolerated. A few, like Joker, were legitimate, long-standing friendships.
But he certainly wasn’t far off to believe himself her best friend. Not after the conversation they’d just had. Not after everything they’d been through together. Not after Omega.
Who was she confiding in, if it wasn’t him?
The idea bothered him more than he wanted to admit.
And of course, the AI picked up on this. “I cannot disclose private conversations, Officer Vakarian,” she/it said. “I can, however, respond to requests for information as to where Commander Shepard has recently spent time.”
A work-around. The thing was giving him a clear work-around, and damn if he wasn’t going to take advantage of it. “EDI, can you tell me where Shepard was during her longest conversation today?”
“The Commander spent nearly an hour in the cockpit speaking to Mr. Moreau this afternoon.”
Joker. He should have known. “Thanks, EDI. I can take it from here.”
“Logging you out, Officer,” the AI responded, and Garrus was struck that he couldn’t remember ever logging in.
---
If Garrus was good at one thing with personal relationships, it was overthinking them. Thanks to his sniper training, he had more than enough patience to wait someone out -- like a certain Commander, perhaps -- but his mind would run wild with scenarios, both good and ill, in the meantime.
Last time, after months of chasing after Saren and the geth, his patience had finally begun to wear thin. Garrus had been sure there was something between them; he just couldn't figure out what was holding Shepard back. So he'd made plan after plan of how he'd approach her when she finally got back from the Terminus System -- take her to a nice restaurant on the Citadel, invite her out to that new mech arcade on the Strip, maybe just drinks at a club much more inhabitable than Chora's Den, somewhere they could actually talk. And he waited.
It had been a longer wait than anyone anticipated.
Two years later, the overwhelming relief of seeing his best friend again had overshadowed any softer feelings he may have been harboring for her, and in the weeks and months that had followed, he'd slipped back into that easy camaraderie he'd missed so much.
Despite his efforts, he hadn't been able to push those feelings away when they eventually re-surfaced. And just like before, he was pretty sure Shepard shared them, if her teasing banter and slightly shy smiles were anything to judge by.
Yet he'd waited and waited and waited, until she had to actually proposition him to get him to acknowledge her.
And then he'd said respect.
Not love, not like, not even want. Respect.
Shepard must want to kill him right now.
This was how he found himself once again pacing, though this time it was the length of the CIC, as he tried to work up the courage to go talk to Joker. Surely the pilot would have some ideas. Or he'd take pity on Garrus and help him. He'd accept it either way.
At the console closest to him, EDI flickered to life. "Officer Vakarian, you are beginning to cause damage to the floor of the CIC." A pause. "That was a joke meant to encourage you to head to your destination."
Garrus glared at her.
"Evidently I did not tell it right," she added, and he could have sworn she sounded depressed. Issues with the emotional stability of the ship notwithstanding, Garrus rolled his eyes and made his way to the cockpit.
The pilot was waiting for him. "Gare-bear! I've been hearing stories about you all afternoon."
The translator in his ear fumbled over his name, and his visor started spitting out images of large, furry creatures with long claws and oddly shaped bodies. "Uh… what?"
"It rhymes, in English. Human. Whatever you want to call it." He spun to face the turian. "Both apex predators, both scary as hell, both harboring a soft, fuzzy side…" A grin Garrus could only describe as shit-eating -- perhaps his favorite of the many human idioms he'd learned from Shepard -- spread across the pilot's face. "It fits, trust me."
Garrus raised a brow plate at him. "Not as far as I can throw the ship, Joker."
The pilot waved him off. "Yeah, yeah, you and the rest of the ass-kicking squad. What can I do you for, anyway?"
Garrus leaned against the wall of the cockpit, arms crossed. "My, uh, sources say that Shepard came up here for advice earlier."
Joker gave him a look. "Sources, you say?" He shot the AI's hologram a dirty glance. "EDI. Seriously, you blabbed?"
Garrus could have sworn the AI sounded offended. "I do not 'blab,' Mr. Moreau. I merely suggested that perhaps Officer Vakarian could use the same methods to solve problems that the Commander appears to favor."
"Which translates into me helping both of your stupid, romantically challenged asses," he grumbled, scrubbing a hand through his beard. He gave a long suffering sigh and turned back to Garrus. "Fine. I will lend you my subscription to Fornax."
Garrus wished for his sniper rifle. "Spirits, this was a mistake." He turned to leave only to come face to face with the angry red lock of the cockpit door. "Uh. EDI?"
"I recommend that you continue this course of action, Officer," she/it said simply.
"Joker? A little help?"
The pilot turned before huffing a laugh. "Ignore her. She gets a little 'Daisy… daisy…' every once in a while."
"A little…" He trailed off as his visor started playing a childish melody. He couldn't put his talon on why it sounded so ominous. "Never mind, I don't want to know."
“Probably not.” Joker raised his eyebrows at him. “So. Fornax?”
“Spirits, I do not want any alien porn.”
“You sure? I’ll have you know, there are plenty of turian-human couples in there.”
An embarrassing heat spread through Garrus’ plates before he forced that curiosity away. “Positive. How’d you know that’s what I wanted anyway?” The pilot stared at him for a moment, a smirk spread across his face, before Garrus realized his mistake. “Shit.”
“Gotcha. All you badass types think you’re so smart, and then all I have to do is start talking about naked people and you all lose your cool.” He swiveled his chair back to the console. “Same thing happened to Shepard, so don’t feel bad.”
Behind him, Garrus considered all the pros and cons of jumping out the airlock now, before he further embarrassed himself. To the pilot or to Shepard. He could feel his mandibles wiggling with anxiety, out of his control to stop.
“Joker. I just want advice, I swear. Is that possible without your offering me pornography?”
He shrugged. “Sure, if you want the boring stuff.”
“Spirits, yes. I can… figure the rest out.”
The hologram winked from the corner of Garrus’ eye. “Dr. Solus has a number of resources, including diagrams and lists of erogenous zones for both species, should you desire it, Officer Vakarian.”
Garrus could swear Joker went pale. “Oh no, not diagrams again.”
“Again?” Then it clicked, and with movements far too fast outside combat, Garrus swung himself into the co-pilot’s seat. “Again. You mean Shepard? And diagrams?”
Joker shot him a disgusted look. “Oh god you’re going to make me talk about it, aren’t you?”
“Mr. Moreau, should this information be useful in lowering Commander Shepard’s stress levels –” Joker cut the AI off.
“I got it, thing.” He poked some buttons on the console before turning to Garrus, who was practically vibrating with curiosity and need and a hundred other emotions as he waited. Human mating customs were absolutely beyond him; he'd never thought to look them up, despite his feelings for Shepard simmering in the background of his mind. He couldn’t believe that somehow he hadn’t already screwed this up, and if even the damn ship was on board with helping him, he’d take it.
“So you’ll help me?”
Joker nodded. “Yeah. But this is strictly advice, not me analyzing shit for you. I definitely do not want to know what your dreams are about.”
Garrus tilted his head. The dream thing didn't make any sense, but he got the important parts. “As long as you don’t breathe a word of this to Shepard.”
“Or…”
He flared his mandibles wide, knowing the pilot could see his teeth. He was counting on years of buried primal instincts to understand the implied threat.
“Gotcha. No Shepard.” Joker fidgeted with his hat for a moment before that grin came back. "So. Tell Uncle Jeff what your troubles are. I'd invite you to sit in my lap, but I'm just not that into you."
Once again, Garrus was lost. "Is this another one of those human idioms Shepard is trying to teach me?"
The pilot shrugged. "Sure. Point is, tell me what happened. Your version. I've already heard Shepard's." And hadn't appreciated it, judging from the undertones of sarcasm in his voice. That, Garrus understood clear as day.
It didn't help him past one tiny detail. "You've heard Shepard's version?"
"Uh, duh? What did you think, she was up here braiding my hair?" When Garrus again didn't respond, the turian having no idea what a braid was, Joker threw his hands up in frustration. "Oh for shit's sake!"
Garrus' subharmonics were rumbling wild with anxiety the longer Joker grumbled and spouted meaningless phrases even his translator didn't understand. "Joker. A little focus here? You talked to Shepard. Was she upset? Do I need to apologize?"
The pilot gave him an indignant look. "Only to me for being subjected to your awful attempts at flirting. Will you tell me the damn story?"
So, with many stops and starts and not a few muted subharmonics that would have been humiliating if Joker had been a turian, Garrus told him. His words came haltingly as he skirted around the specifics, both of what he’d said and what Shepard suggested. He would never admit how Shepard had blushed – blushed! – over his quip about men with scars, and as much as he was friendly with Joker, he couldn’t bear to admit his horrendous line about heat sinks. Spirits, that still made his throat burn.
He was just about finished with his sanitized story when the AI’s hologram flickered on in the back corner of the cockpit. “Officer Vakarian,” she/it said calmly. “You seem to be leaving out key details in your re-telling of this conversation.”
The grin on Joker’s face made Garrus’ mandibles ache just looking at him. “Spill, Gare-bear. No hugs over your disastrous flirtation attempt unless I get actual blackmail material.”
“I… don’t know how to respond to that.”
The AI piped up. “You should inform Mr. Moreau of your response to the Commander’s suggestion of relieving tension together, Officer Vakarian.”
Joker wiggled in his seat until he was comfortable, that grin never lessening. “Oh, please tell me what stupid thing you said!”
Garrus gaped at him for a long moment. There was no way he was getting out of this with his dignity intact. His subs puttered away, whining just out of reach as he lamented his own foolishness and the sacrifice he was about to make.
Finally, he pulled his mandibles tight to his face and growled. “I said respect, Joker. That I respected her, and that’s why I wanted to be with her.”
The pilot didn’t blink. “And?”
He avoided his gaze; there was no way he could look Joker in the eye and admit this. “And… then I said why the hell not.”
For a split second, he thought Joker hadn’t heard him.
Then the pilot’s expression cracked, and he roared with laughter, echoing louder inside the confined space of the cockpit.
Garrus closed his eyes to wait it out.
“Oh my god, it's even funnier when you say it… why the hell not… it’s so beautiful, I think I’m dying…” His whole face was bright red, even the skin under his facial hair, and Garrus resisted the long-suppressed urge to rip his throat out with his teeth.
Turians had come a long way in the galaxy’s eyes for a failed vigilante to make a mistake like that.
It would have made him feel a hell of a lot better though.
When the pilot’s grin finally faded, he looked at Garrus seriously. “So… tell me this. Do you actually want a relationship, or are you just… you know?” He made a circle out of his too many fingers and stuck another into the hole. Garrus studied this development curiously, but understanding didn’t dawn until Joker cleared his throat loudly and started moving his finger in and out.
“Spirits, what is wrong with you humans?” He muttered, giving what amounted to a very human eye roll. “I… I don’t know, Joker. I want… her. In whatever capacity she’ll have me.”
The pilot arched an eyebrow. “So if she just wants you for stress relief…”
His subvocals gave an undignified whine, but Garrus swallowed down the wave of disappointment. “That’s… yes. If that’s all she wants, then yes.” He hesitated, avoiding the pilot’s face until he couldn’t stand it anymore. “Is that… all she wants?” Even a human couldn’t be so tone-deaf as to avoid hearing the hope in his question.
To his immense relief, the pilot chuckled. “You’re in luck. I’m pretty sure she wants an actual relationship, with all the nauseating PDA and touchy-feely sex that entails.”
His visor spit out images of couples holding hands and humans lying in bed holding each other, and Garrus quickly found that the potential didn’t bother him in the slightest. “I… Good. I’m glad. That’s… what I want, too.”
Joker cleared his throat again and played around with the Normandy’s controls as they settled into silence.
Relief sank through Garrus’ mind. He’d known all along that what he really wanted was something more, but to know that Shepard wanted that too… it made him both happy and nervous. His feelings had developed long ago, but he’d always assumed it was one-sided until she hugged him on Omega. The tightness of her grip and the relief in her voice spoke volumes.
He absently wondered how humans managed without subvocals. The whole facial expression thing still threw him at times.
“Joker,” he asked eventually, thoughts swirling. “How do I tell her that’s what I want?”
The pilot grinned. “Definitely use corpses to spell out your love for her on the battlefield.”
“That’s disgusting. Even for a turian.”
“Persuade Jack to hit on her until she runs into your arms?”
“I don’t have a death wish, thanks.”
“Ask Grunt to make her some macaroni art of you two making out?”
“I’m going to assume that was as ridiculous as the rest of your suggestions.” Garrus sighed. “This is getting us nowhere.”
“Sorry my attempts to get you laid aren’t good enough, Archangel.” Garrus fought down the growl simmering in his chest, but he couldn’t avoid the predatory flair of his mandibles. Joker gave him an equally feigned smile before leaning back in his seat. He actually appeared to be thinking this time. “Well… she sees enough of your macho bullshit in the field, so maybe you need to do something, oh I don’t know, nice for her?”
“Nice?”
“Yeah, like… something sweet.” He raised his eyebrows in a way Garrus had learned was significant, but he couldn’t place it now.
“Sweet?”
Joker shot him a glare. “We’ll figure this out faster if you stop repeating me.”
“It’s just… I’m not sure I can really do sweet.” Turians weren’t exactly known for being gentle, and more of their courtship rituals than he wanted to admit to involved talons or fighting.
“You might have to try something new here, Gare-bear,” the pilot insisted. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you’re working the stick out of your butt. I’m just not sure beating people to death with it is going to help you impress Shepard.”
He growled low in his chest. It wasn’t an unfamiliar prejudice, that all turians were uptight, but it was frustrating to learn that perhaps even Shepard clung to it.
Then again, it wasn’t that far off. He’d needed her to basically proposition him to get his ass moving, after all. He could only resolve to be less resolute and more spontaneous in the future.
And to do that, he needed help. “What do I do, Joker??” He swung himself out of the co-pilot’s seat, something akin to whining slipping into his subharmonics. If he’d been less worked up, he might have cared.
He could feel the pilot’s eyes on him as he paced the cockpit. At some point EDI had unlocked the door, and he fought down the sudden urge to throw himself through and run for the main battery. It would make him feel better, but he had a feeling he’d find himself back up here begging Joker for help within days. Maybe hours.
Behind him, the pilot finally took pity. “Do what all the vids say then, Garrus. Roses, chocolates, serenade her…”
Garrus shot him an unconvinced look, mandibles fluttering. “Serenade her? You have to be kidding.”
“Too much? Fine, then…” He shrugged. “Just… do all the normal dating crap. Show interest in stuff she’s interested in. Show up in places you know she’ll be.”
He cocked his head as he listened, sure Shepard would have called him avian if she’d been there to tease him. “You’re saying I should stalk her? Is that normal human courtship behavior?”
Joker buried his face in his hands, upending his hat. “What on earth do turians do if they’re interested in someone?”
“On earth? Um, nothing?”
He groaned, the sound muffled through his fingers. “On Palaven then, you idiot.”
Garrus’ chest jolted as he thought of his planet and the family he’d left behind. He hadn’t quite realized how much easier this would be if Shepard were turian, but he couldn’t argue with the thought now that he’d had it. Perhaps…
No. He wanted her, however far from home that left him.
And he couldn’t help his chuckle at how different this was than a turian relationship. “Things are never complicated like this. Basically you just say what you want, and see what happens.”
He couldn’t read the expression on Joker’s face. “Then why don’t you do that?”
The dual tones of his voice dripped with sarcasm. “I’m sure you’ve noticed this, Joker, but Shepard isn’t a turian.” He would have been punched if his subvocals had been so patronizing to anyone else. “Your species has been babbling for years between the Council and C-Sec. Straightforward wasn’t exactly humanity’s style.”
Joker studied him for a long moment before the mischief came back into his smile. “This is how you ended up using that heat-sink metaphor, isn’t it?”
Garrus recoiled, eyes wide. Blood rushed to his throat, no doubt staining it deep blue. “Spirits save me, she told you that?”
Joker didn’t answer, only laughed as he started typing on his omni-tool. He fiddled with it for a moment before Garrus’ pinged. “Here. I sent you some vids, just watch those, and –”
He was cut off by a series of moans and the slapping sound of flesh on flesh. Garrus’ jaw fell open. It was porn. Turian-human porn, to Joker's credit, but there was nothing else even remotely helpful there.
Except that the human woman, her eyes closed in what Garrus had to assume was pleasure, had the same dark red hair as Shepard.
The realization sent a flush of heat through him, and he scrambled to turn it off, fighting down the tightening behind his groin plates.
It was too late -- images of soft flesh bending around plated hips had already burned into his brain. He slapped at his arm, trying to hit the mute button or the self-destruct button or anything at all to make it stop.
Before him, Joker’s eyes were wide enough to set off any predator’s instincts. “You… weren’t supposed to watch them here,” he said softly, a nervous twitch in his smile.
Garrus stepped very, very close to the pilot. It wasn’t hard to tower over him, not when Garrus stood nearly seven feet tall and Joker was in a chair, but nonetheless, he made every effort. He fought down the urge to smack the cheeky smile off Joker’s face, pulling hard on the memories of the aerial stunts he performed to defeat Sovereign. That could be useful against the Collectors, and if there was one thing a turian knew how to do, it was preserve a valuable asset.
It didn’t make him feel any better though.
EDI, however, did. “Mr. Moreau,” she began, cutting off any attempt on Garrus’ part to speak. “Now would be an appropriate time to remind you that you cannot withstand the physical confrontation that will likely result if you continue this course of action.”
Joker bit off whatever smart-ass remark he’d been about to make in favor of glaring at the hologram. “Really, a turian could kick my ass? Thanks for the reminder, EDI.” He eyed Garrus, perhaps wondering just how sharp the turian’s talons really were, before he sat up a little straighter. “So… that’s a no-go on the porn, huh?”
“What gave it away?” He took a step back, arms crossing over his chest. His subs were rumbling a threat, even if the human couldn’t hear it.
“Hm…” The pilot put a finger to his chin and studied the ceiling for a moment, the same elaborate thinking pose Shepard adopted when she was being a pain in the ass. Garrus did not find it nearly as endearing on Joker.
“This might take some work,” he told the turian, and Garrus inwardly cringed when he heard his subvocals shift into something akin to true whining. It wasn’t dignified, but then again, he knew this wouldn’t be.
“Please? Maybe there’s an actual vid that would help or something?”
Joker eyed him, squishy face pinched into a suspicious look. “Yeah, all right. You owe me a really nice birthday present this year though.”
His mandibles flared in an actual grin this time. “Joker, if you help me with Shepard, I will get you the nicest hat money can buy from here ‘til the Reapers.”
“Shit, Garrus, that’s only like… a year or two.”
“Longer if we’re lucky,” he corrected, to the pilot’s displeasure. “Don’t jinx it.”
The pilot turned back to his ‘tool, annoyed muttering that sounded vaguely like “just like Shepard” just barely coming through his translator. He waited, consciously pulling his mandibles to his face to keep them from fluttering anxiously. He could not, however, keep his feet still and was soon pacing back and forth behind the pilot’s chair.
Then his omni-tool pinged, and he dove for his arm to investigate. Behind him, Joker laughed. Garrus ignored him.
These vids actually looked promising – most were labeled with vaguely academic sounding names, and at least one was out of a university in Cipritine, which gave him confidence. Maybe somewhere out there in the wide, wide galaxy, people had made this work before he and Shepard, and maybe, just maybe, that meant they could make it work too.
Quickly he opened the most recently published vid to watch, but he was startled out of his research-induced haze by Joker’s voice. “Why don’t you just give her a present?”
Garrus glanced up. “What?”
“You know, a gift? That’s a pretty common human courtship thing.”
“Like… buy her something?”
“Uh yeah? What’s a gift mean to turians?”
Garrus considered this for a moment. The idea of purchasing something for someone wasn’t anything special in turian culture – if someone needed something and you noticed, you bought it. The gesture carried friendship meaning, as you usually weren’t aware of someone’s needs without some kind of kinship, but the items were usually practical and easily obtained.
Like something someone might use in their fight against the Collectors. “Actually, that I can do,” he said, bobbing his head.
Joker twisted in his seat to study him again. “That was… easy. Too easy. What kind of gift are you thinking in that vigilante head of yours?”
Garrus shrugged, the human affectation lost on him. “A good one. There’s this new sniper mod she’s been eyeing at Rodam, and since they’re so expensive normally –”
Joker interrupted, throwing his hands up. “Seriously! What the hell is with you two and guns?”
“Uh… what?”
The pilot shook his head, his voice rising as he got going. “Both of you idiots, all you think about are guns! You think it’s the perfect gift, Shepard thinks a shooting range counts as a date! You’re hopeless!”
Garrus had just opened his mouth to retort, subs already grumbling his displeasure, when EDI beat him to it. “Actually, Mr. Moreau, considering how stress-relieving both the Commander and Officer Vakarian find using weapons, this is an appropriate gesture of affection.”
Joker shot the hologram a death-glare. “I cannot take any more of your comments, thing.” The growl he emitted was almost turian.
“My input is statistically more likely to be heeded than yours, Mr. Moreau.”
“Just because you run the ship,” the pilot began, but EDI blinked off before he could finish. Either someone needed her elsewhere, or the AI was the most effective argument-winner in history.
Joker gave the space where her hologram had just been a death glare before he turned back to Garrus, lips pressed in a thin line under his beard. “Well?” he asked expectantly, and Garrus knew that if the pilot could read turian expressions, he’d see the sheepish grin for what it was.
“Actually,” he said slowly, voice wavering a little as he tried not to embarrass himself. “I would love to go shooting with Shepard.”
Joker continued to frown. “You two go shooting all the time, you idiot.”
“It’s not the same when she could die, Joker.” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, harsh and protective and fierce, and the pilot shrank back in his seat.
Silence settled over them, broken only by the rumble of Garrus’ chest, the subvocals risen to the pitched growl of true anger. Despite his protective instincts, some part of Garrus wondered if he'd crossed a line as he studied the pilot’s sunken shoulders and downcast eyes. No doubt Joker blamed himself for Shepard’s death, the guilt not quite alleviated by her timely resurrection. For a moment, watching Joker turn back to the controls of the ship in an effort to distract himself, Garrus almost apologized.
Just as he opened his mouth, subs already shifted to sympathetic and remorseful, Joker looked up. His greenish eyes were dark, but the set of his brow conveyed a strength Garrus hadn’t expected to see.
“I… understand that, actually,” he said haltingly, and Garrus pulled his mandibles tight to his face. “Shepard’s like a sister to me, so… I’m glad she has you in the field to keep her safe.” He hesitated again. “You’re actually good for her like that.”
The turian couldn’t deny his surprise at this admission, but he tried to cover it. “I hope so.”
“You’re… not going to hurt her, are you?”
Garrus’ heart clenched in his chest. “Spirits help me, I will never hurt Shepard as long as I live.”
Another quiet moment passed, actual friendship coloring the space between them instead of their mutual deflections.
Then Joker’s mouth curled into a smirk not unlike their Commander’s. “Then you have my blessing,” he declared. “Go out, shoot things, make terrifying dinosaur-babies together!”
An undignified noise leapt from Garrus’ throat, though he clamped it down as fast as possible. “Spirits, she didn’t ask me to do that, did she?”
Joker buried his face in his hands. “And we’re back where we started.” He groaned before waving the turian off. “Go. Do something nice for the Commander, and for shit’s sake, tell her how you feel. Straightforward. Turian-style, if that isn’t a sex thing.”
Garrus cocked his head. “It’s… well. I don’t know what humans would call it, but –”
“Nope!” Behind him, the cockpit doors whooshed open, and Garrus laughed to himself as he left.
“Thanks for the help, Joker.”
EDI flared to life at the doorway, and Garrus gave her a look. “You too, EDI.”
“You are welcome, Officer Vakarian,” the AI replied, and Garrus almost smiled. The two least-romantic people on the ship, and yet he felt better. He might be a bad turian, but even the worst turians were comforted when armed with a plan.
Behind him, he heard Joker’s chair swivel to face the hologram. “You just had to interfere.”
Garrus could have sworn EDI laughed. “It is not my fault that organics seem to experience a myriad of hindering emotions. I am merely attempting to assist.”
“This is why you have shackles,” the pilot said with a groan, and Garrus grinned all the way back to the battery.