#ginbiscuit

“Hey Wings, you want any?”

It took him a minute to realize that Vega was talking to him. “What did you just call me?”

The spot between Vega’s eyes wrinkled, nose scrunching as if he realized his nickname could be offensive. “Sorry, it’s something I do with everyone. Make up nicknames. I can stop if it makes you uncomfortable.”

Did it? Make him uncomfortable? He was going to say, yeah don’t do that again and leave me the hell alone, but Vega didn’t seem like he was being disingenuous or cruel. Maybe he really was trying to be friendly.

Clearing his throat, Joker shrugged, grabbing the closest drink he could find, not even realizing it wasn’t the water he’d had his eyes on until he closed the fridge. He’d look like an idiot if he opened it again to correct his mistake so he tucked the strawberry protein smoothie under his arm, trying to avoid looking any more stupid than he already did.

“Look, Lieutenant. I don’t mind a nickname but, uh, do you think you could come up with something a little better than Wings?”

The marine cracked a grin. “What did you have in mind?”

“I don’t know! Something better than that. Hell, just use Joker because it’s my actual name.” He threw up his hands and the bottle dropped to the floor. Thankfully, glass was banned from starships decades ago and the smoothie rolled across the floor to nestle snugly against James’ foot. The soldier glanced at it briefly before stooping down to pick it up. 

Joker would’ve made a run for it if he thought he could escape without breaking a leg, but that wasn’t reality. So he stood there like an idiot as Vega held the bottle out to him. He snatched it from his hands a little too roughly, but he would chide himself over it later once his cheeks stopped burning from the embarrassment.

“Heads up, that shake tastes more like those indigestion meds that the doc gives you than actual strawberries.” Vega turned back to his pan and whatever it was he was cooking. “Or you can still have a bite of my machaca.”

He had no idea what the hell that was.

“I think I’ll survive fine, thanks.”

Vega shrugged as if he wasn’t bothered either way. 

Joker watched him a minute longer than he should’ve, but wasn’t acknowledged again. Huh. Clutching the bottle of protein drink to his chest, he shuffled out of the mess, shooting a few glances over his shoulder as if James Vega would disappear like a ghost.

When he was certain that the entire interaction had actually happened, Joker entered the crew quarters, taking a swig of the smoothie. As soon as the liquid touched his tongue, he lurched, almost tossing the small amount he drank back up onto the floor. Its chalky consistency with the artificial strawberry flavor was the most disgusting combination he’d ever tasted.

Dammit, Vega was right and if he went back for something else-

Tossing the drink into the trash where it belonged, he decided he would sneak out once he was sure Vega was asleep. No need to embarrass himself further over something like the rumbling of his stomach.

~~~~

Purgatory wasn’t like Afterlife, but that was what made it so appealing to Joker. The music was loud, the drinks were strong, and there was little thinking he could do in this place. Which is exactly how he liked it. The company he acquired that night, however, was another issue.

Jack was sitting with her feet on the table, absorbed in some report from the frontlines. He didn’t expect her to take teaching so seriously, but he liked to be surprised at times. Even with someone nicknamed ‘the Psychotic Biotic.’

“Where the hell is Shepard?” She muttered, tossing the datapad on the table before reaching for her beer. He couldn’t tell what it was by the label but it was definitely not from a human brewery. “He was supposed to meet me here to go over war shit.”

He shrugged, leaning back into his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. He wished he could look as laidback as Jack did even if she was annoyed. But every position was uncomfortable within a few minutes of sitting in it. “Shepard does whatever he wants. He is the boss.”

“He’s not my boss.”

Joker was going to point out that she was officially Alliance personnel now and there might come a time when Shepard would be her boss, but he kept his mouth shut. Jack was the one person he wasn’t willing to antagonize. She could probably kill him with the datapad in front of her. 

Or that stylus she was twirling between her fingers.

“Didn’t say he was. But he’s the most sought after guy in the galaxy right now.” He continued, reaching for his own drink, hoping to avoid talking more before he stuck his foot in his mouth.

Jack rolled her eyes. “You don’t have to tell me that, Flyboy.”

“Hey, that’s a good one!” A voice said over the booming music, directly next to their table. “Mind if I borrow it?”

Eyes wide, Joker glanced up, somehow not surprised to find the familiar brown eyes of James Vega looking back. The marine glanced at him briefly, a smile curling his lips. Joker had to remember to breathe once those eyes were focused on Jack. Where the hell had he come from?

“Borrow what, Muscles?” Jack asked, smirking as she not so subtly checked Vega out. Her gaze roamed over his muscular arms, his chest, pausing to check out his ass and other things. Joker’s hand tightened around the drink he held. “Because I’ll give you anything you want.”

Vega raised an eyebrow at her, returning her grin with his own. “I was talking about the nickname for our pilot here, but I can’t turn down an offer like that.”

Joker sighed, pulling his hat down to avoid seeing the flirting, but unfortunately he could still hear. “Can you take this somewhere else, please? I’d rather not have Vega drool in my beer.”

Jack kicked the table between them, making the drinks wobble dangerously. “Hey, asshole. That’s rude.”

“You’re worried about me being rude?” He snapped, glaring across the small distance at her, feeling his cheeks flush with anger and maybe a little embarrassment. He bit back the next sentence that threatened to spill from his mouth. The Alliance put a collar on you, huh?

“Uh…” James glanced between them as he and Jack stared daggers at each other. “Am I missing something?”

Jack tilted her head slightly, waiting for Joker to explain or to make a joke to diffuse the situation. He refused to do either, hating how easy Jack could get a rise out of him. Damned woman was a pain in the ass.

Crossing his arms over his chest, he glanced away from Jack’s probing gaze and scanned the crowd that gyrated around them. His neck burned, embarrassed at how childish he was being. 

So maybe he wasn’t as ok with being alone as he thought.

“I… uh… have some friends I need to get back to.” James shouted over the music, using his thumb to point at the bar behind him. A bunch of marines dressed in their BDUs were laughing and taking shots, clearly not noticing that Vega wasn’t with them. “But I’ll see you on the ship, man.”

“Yeah.” Joker muttered, although Vega was long gone, melting into the crowd with an ease that made him jealous. If only it could be so easy.

Once the moment passed, he made the mistake of glancing across the table. Jack raised an eyebrow, a shocked laugh leaving her mouth. “Uh, what the fuck was that?”

“Nothing.”

Jack leaned forward and rested her arms on the table, studying him briefly. “I’m not buying the shit you’re selling. What the hell did Muscles do to you?” A smile curled her lips in the next moment and Joker knew he wasn’t going to like what was going to come out of her mouth next. “Wait- are you jealous?”

Joker winced and rubbed his temple, a headache forming behind his eyes. “No.”

Jack laughed, clapping her hands together and relaxing in her seat, a sparkle of mischievous intent in her eyes. “Oh, you are.”

With a disgruntled sigh, Joker pushed the chair back, refusing to be a part of Jack’s games. “I’m going back to the ship.”

Pulling his hat down, Joker tried his best to make it through the crowd before anyone else noticed him. He heard Jack shout something at his back, but he was too far away and the music too loud for him to actually understand what the words were.

He was positive that he should be grateful for that. Jack never had anything good to say.

~~~~

With a sigh that was more of a groan thanks to his aching back, Jeff adjusted his position in an attempt to get comfortable again. He knew he should probably take a break, or a nap, but if he wasn’t pushing himself to the edge, then he wasn’t Jeff Moreau.

“You should rest, Jeff.”

Normally, he would’ve argued, but tonight he was too tired. A long 15 hours of flying on so little sleep from the night before. He should’ve signed off early and gone to crew quarters, but he was stubborn if nothing else. EDI was sitting beside him in that robot body that still gave him the creeps when he caught it out of the corner of his eye.

“Thanks, mom.”

“I am aware that you are using sarcasm, but my intentions are similar to that of a family member. A sister, perhaps.”

“Are you saying you want to be my sister, EDI?”

“I’m saying I care about you, Jeff.”

He sighed, taking his cap off and running a hand through his flattened hair. “Yeah, I know. Fine. I’ll take a break.”

At the very least, he could eat.

Once the door to the elevator shut, he sank against the wall, letting it hold him up while he rode it down a floor to the crew deck. 

Joker was exhausted. He should just crawl into his bunk and sleep until the next shift, but the muscles in his back burned, his legs shook, and he knew without a doubt that he wouldn’t be able to close his eyes with the pain. So a pitstop at the medbay was required first. Chakwas would most likely have something to ease his aches.

The doors opened and he tried his best not to hobble, but each step felt like an electric rod was shoved into his calves, sending sharp stabs of agony through every nerve in his body. The medbay was a few feet from the elevator, but he made the trip in double the time he usually did. Vega was in the mess again, the smell of something spicy filling his nostrils as soon as he entered. 

When he crossed the threshold into the medbay, Chakwas glanced up from her terminal, eyes widening. “Jeff. Are you alright?”

He winced, unable to lie to the only doctor he trusted. She treated him more than a patient, more than an experiment. She was like the mother he’d lost all the years ago, patient and kind, but refused to put up with his bullshit. If pressed, he could admit he loved her like one too.

“Sorry for bothering you so late, but uh, I need something for my back.”

Her eyes softened and with a nod, she reached into the drawer next to her, pulling out a small white bottle. She knocked two small white pills into her outstretched hands before holding it out to him. “Take these with a full glass of water. Then get some rest.”

“Aye, aye.” He muttered weakly, giving a half hearted salute before shuffling from the medbay. 

He couldn’t bother with the water. Walking across the mess was too difficult so he swallowed the pills dry, nearly choking on them. With a tired sigh, Joker immediately slipped into a chair, his head colliding with the table. He didn’t even bother with a greeting, needing food and a nap, but having the energy for neither.

“Rough day, Jefe?”

“Something like that.” Turning his head to lay his cheek against the table, he watched as Vega approached with a plate piled high with another food he’d never seen before. “What does that mean? Jefe?”

“Boss.” The soldier slid onto the seat next to him, setting the plate down gently. At eye level, Joker could see whatever the food he’d made was wrapped in a rough yellowish looking paper. He thought it was paper, at least.

“Don’t let Shepard hear you say that. Pretty sure he’ll be offended if you call me that and not him.”

“Nah, Loco likes his nickname. He’s the easiest CO I’ve had.” James leaned against the chair and watched him with… not pity, exactly. Kindness, understanding. Definitely unexpected.

“Yeah, don’t think I’m a Jefe, no offense.”

Vega shrugged as if the entire thing didn’t mean anything to him. But it clearly did since he was still trying to come up with a nickname for Joker that wasn’t his call sign. “None taken.” 

Joker was about to close his eyes when a plate was placed in front of him, the tantalizing smell of food assaulting his nostrils. He sat up slightly, eyeing the food with suspicion. “What is it?”

“A tamale. My Abuela's recipe. Trust me, it’s the best thing you’ll ever put in your mouth.”

His cheeks heated, mind taking a dirtier turn than it really needed to. “Uh, sure it is.” Joker cleared his throat, sitting up as much as he could, but his back twinged painfully, and he pressed a hand against his spine, biting his lip to stop the hiss that wanted to escape.

Silence fell between them, uncomfortable and tense for Joker because he was so out of his element here. With Shepard and EDI, he didn’t have this problem. They would trade barbs, good natured flirting that meant absolutely nothing because it couldn’t. He could banter with the best of them and he was one of the best. But this strange comradeship with James felt more important.

Joker wasn’t sure he liked it.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Joker lifted the tamale in his hand, rotating it as if it was something requiring inspection. If he was going to eat it, it definitely needed to be edible because it didn’t look that way at all. “Like I could stop you.”

Vega huffed a laugh, watching him fondly. It did nothing for the blush that covered his face. “It’s nothing too weird, I promise.”

“That does nothing to make me feel less suspicious.”

Vega’s smile faltered slightly, but didn’t disappear. Joker didn’t know why that mattered to him. “Are you in pain?”

Joker’s eyes dropped to the plate in front of him. It gave him a reason not to meet Vega’s eyes while he confessed to his weakness. “Is it that obvious?”

The man beside him shifted. He seemed a lot less confident than normal. “I’m not a doctor or anything, but I give a killer massage. If you, uh, ever want to take me up on it.”

Trying to ignore Vega was impossible on the majority of days, but today of all days he wanted to flirt? The stupid jerk was too charming for his own good and didn’t even seem to realize it. And why did Joker actually want to take him up on it?

Joker bit into the food to avoid having to answer, only to come away with a mouth full of the rough covering. He almost gagged at the feel of it in his mouth, stringy and fibrous. 

“You aren’t supposed to eat the husk.”

Spitting it out on the plate, he glared as the marine laughed, tears leaking from his eyes. “Thanks for the heads up.”

“Anything for you, Jefe.”

Joker tried to ignore the little flip of his heart at the words.

~~~~

He found James in his usual spot in the shuttle bay, cataloging the weapons that Shepard had picked up on the Citadel. He was quiet for once, no banter with Cortez filling the echoey space. It felt wrong to intrude on Vega’s privacy even if it wasn’t really private at all. This was where he stayed most of his day working and when he wasn’t in the shuttle bay, he was in the mess. It was predictable, comfortable, and Joker found himself looking forward to those shift changes when they chatted at a table with whatever Vega’s feast for the day was.

But he hadn’t shown up tonight.

So here Joker was, standing like an idiot in the shuttle bay waiting for a sign that he should approach. 

He’d been thinking about the offered massage for weeks now. He didn’t know how to bring it up again because it wasn’t something you just asked for. Especially from someone who wasn’t your doctor or physical therapist. 

There hadn’t been an opportunity for it to come up naturally in their conversations and he didn’t want to seem like some weirdo that wanted James to touch him. The idea was ridiculous. Maybe he wanted to see if it helped his back pain, even if only a little. That was enough of a reason, right?

In fact, it was Shepard that mentioned it one day a few weeks back. Joker had been having a particularly nasty day of sitting in that chair for too long and had complained loudly about it. The Commander made an offhand comment about how Vega had good hands for massage and that it’d helped him out on the bad days when he was feeling tense. Once he got over the mental image of James touching his superior officer in such an intimate way, he wondered if maybe he should at least ask. One massage and then they wouldn’t have to mention it again. If James could work out the kinks in his muscles as good as he cooked…

A thought popped into his head as he stood there, staring at James while he worked on a rifle: What if he wanted more massages? Should he pay Vega back for them somehow? He didn’t have credits and Vega was the superior chef-

With a sigh, he turned around, ready to call for the elevator and go bury himself under a pile of pillows in the crew quarters to hide his mortification when the sound of footsteps made him pause, finger hovering over that tiny button. 

Just push it. Do it dammit.

“Hey man, what brings you all the way down here?”

Closing his eyes, he tried to keep his heart from jumping out of his chest. There was no way he could run now and not look like a freak. His hand dropped from the button and he turned, facing James with as much of a grin as he could muster. It came out as a grimace and James’ eyebrows went up in concern.

“Hey, Vega. Didn’t know you were holed up down here. Pretty sure I hit the wrong button.” He brushed his hand over the back of his neck, fingers playing with the hair at the base of his neck. “I meant to go get some food, but ended up here. Sorry to bother you.”

They were stupid, the words that tumbled out of his mouth. He probably should’ve let it go, hit the elevator button and gone back to his chair, but his pain and Shepard’s words had given him a burst of courage. 

When he finally met Vega’s gaze, those dark eyes said so much more than his words could, and Joker immediately knew that he would be sorry if he didn’t follow through. 

Would he embarrass himself? Without a doubt. But if he could get some relief from his awful aches, he’d bear it willingly.

James inspected him briefly, taking in the nervous grin and the slumped shoulders before shaking his head. He didn’t comment on his posture or on the way Joker was clearly attempting to hide the pain he felt with his clenched teeth and pinched expression, the way he shuffled from one foot to the other, how his fingers flexed before he balled them into fists.

“Look, Vega-”

“Call me James.” 

Joker sighed in exhaustion, dropping his gaze to the ground, feeling even more like an idiot. He’d been calling him Vega for so long that he almost forgot he had a first name. With a self deprecating laugh, he rubbed his neck again, hoping that the blush wasn’t obvious in the glaring white lights. “Yeah, ok. James. Listen, I’ve never had many friends before so I don’t know what’s appropriate and what’s not, but-”

“You want one of my massages.” 

It wasn’t a question and Joker found he could only nod, his throat closed up in terror at the idea of someone else knowing him let alone touching him. 

James tried to hide the smile he wore as he turned away, waving Joker to follow him. That was when Joker noticed a small cot set up in the corner, protected by crates on two sides. His own little cozy area where most people probably wouldn’t notice him unless they bumped into him.

“Do you sleep here?” He asked as James began to move some things off of the cot. A rifle, a pair of shorts, a blanket… He piled it on the workbench that waited a few feet away.

“Sometimes. It depends on how much modding Loco needs done on the weapons.” When James faced him again, he noticed that Joker was standing near the cot but hadn’t moved. “Uh, not sure if you want to sit or lay down.”

“I’ll sit.”

The idea of lying in James’ cot and having his hands on him did things to Joker’s body that he didn’t have the brain power to examine. So instead, he sat, the fabric of the cot gently lowering slightly with his weight. He shifted in an attempt to get more comfortable. Once he finished fussing, James sat behind him, doing the same for a moment while the cot tried to accommodate both of them.

“Um, do you mind not crushing me in your gorilla hands?” Joker managed with a strangled squeak, trying not to sound too terrified. “I break easily.”

James coughed, clearly attempting to cover a laugh. “I got you, Halcón.”

The question about what his newest nickname meant died on his lips as soon as James touched him. It was soft at first, a brush of fingertips as James prodded the muscles in his back and shoulders, looking for the majority of the tension. When he found a particularly nasty spot, he pressed his fingers in, making small circles into his skin with the practiced ease of a professional.

Joker bit his lip, his eyes slipping closed. There was still pain, but as James worked, relaxation settled in his muscles and Joker felt himself sagging under the weight of his exhaustion. James moved on to another spot, pressing his fingers in enough to release the tension, but not enough to injure him.

Joker sighed happily, leaning back slightly, enjoying the sensation of James’ fingers running along his spine, brushing against his shoulder, accidently touching the skin of his side when his shirt shifted. He hadn’t felt this relaxed in years. Definitely before he began flying for the Normandy.

James cleared his throat.

That’s when Joker noticed the warmth at his back and James’ breath against his neck. He stiffened immediately, the entire length of his body pressing into the marine’s solid chest. Vega’s hands weren’t massaging him anymore, but were instead resting against his waist, as if he was embracing him.

Joker would’ve jumped away if he was physically capable. He untangled himself from Vega’s arms, cheeks burning, hoping he didn’t do anything weirder than that. 

As if it could get weirder, dumbass.

“Uh, sorry.” He managed, glancing at James from the corner of his eye. When he realized that the marine wasn’t looking in his direction, he faced him with a little more dignity than he thought he was capable of.

James glanced at his hands awkwardly, refusing to meet his eyes. Probably for the best. “Yeah. It’s fine. I’m going to finish these mods, if that’s cool.”

Joker didn’t get a word in before Vega was gone, turning his back on him to hunch over the workbench. Joker tried to ignore the sudden longing to feel James press against his body again.

~~~~

Joker hovered outside of the medbay doors, anxiety causing his hands to shake and his heart to pound, one single thought in his mind: His friendship with James went way beyond the normal boundaries that friends had and he didn’t know what to do about it.

“He’s alright, Jeff.” EDI’s voice said softly from overhead. 

“Yeah.”

“Jeff, your heart rate-”

“I’m fine, EDI.” He ground out, trying his hardest to control his anxiety and anger. It was so fucked. On the other side of those doors-

Shaking his head, he tried to dispel the fear, reminding himself that they were safe, alive. Shepard had returned, Tali had returned and James…

Balancing the plate in his hands, he stepped closer to the door, waiting for the sensor to acknowledge the movement. As the doors parted, he was greeted by the white, sterile medbay, quiet and still except for the hum of the AI core. Chakwas had gone to bed long ago, the shades pulled close to give its patient some modicum of privacy. He stepped inside, eyes trained on the only occupied bed.

The team had returned from Rannoch, mostly in one piece. Tali and Shepard had a few burns from Geth rifles on their armor, exhausted from the ground fight with a fucking Reaper. James had been rushed to Chakwas, having taken a bad hit to the head and all he could think about was the possibility that he was going to lose him.

He isn’t yours to lose.

Swallowing past the lump of terror in his throat, Joker set the plate down on the small table near the bed, taking care to not knock over the mug of water or the painkillers that Chakwas had put out.

Joker watched him for a moment, taking in the hard planes of his face, the chiseled jaw and soft brow, all covered in bruising, and he closed his eyes, holding back tears. He was such an idiot. All of those months when he and James sat together, ate together, had their poker nights or when James would offer him a massage, it meant so much more than either of them realized.

He hoped he wasn’t too late.

Taking a deep breath through his nose and releasing it out of his mouth, Joker opened his eyes, only to find James watching him with that fond expression he’d gotten so used to. There was a question in James’ gaze, lips curling into a smile the longer the silence stretched.

“I brought you something to eat.” Joker said, trying to sound somewhat put together, but he could hear the strangled way his voice came out. “I mean, if you want.”

James’s eyes glanced over at the plate before returning to him. “Smells good. What is it?”

“Oh, an old recipe my mom used to make me when I was sick. Uh, not that you’re sick. It just makes me feel better and I thought it would make you feel better. And now I’m assuming things-

He trailed off, leaving the things he should be saying aloud unsaid. 

When he didn’t continue, James cleared his throat, trying to peek at the plate. “You didn’t say what it was and I am hungry.”

Joker let out a small laugh, his heart settling into a steady rhythm that wasn’t going to kill him. “It’s spezzatino. My mom used to live in Italy before she and dad met. Told me stories about how her mom used to make it for her… when she was sick.”

James watched him as his words failed, leaving him staring at the food. “Are you ok?”

“Me?” Joker had to stop himself from exploding in anger. Did he not realize how close it’d been? “You’re the one who almost got crushed by a fucking Reaper.”

He gripped the spoon tightly in his fist, trying to steady his shaking hands. James shifted his body so that he could sit and covered Jeff’s hand with his own, squeezing gently, affectionately, and it took a minute for Joker to find it in himself to release his hold.

The spoon clattered against the plate.

“I’m ok, querido.” He whispered, pulling Joker on the bed and wrapping him in his arms. Joker took in a shaky breath, burying his face in James’ chest, feeling all at once like he’d come home and terrified that he almost lost the most important person in his life. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You don't know that.” Joker mumbled, refusing to let go of James even if his voice could barely be heard. “I don’t know that either. The Normandy could get hit, I could-”

James ran a hand down his back, his touch as soothing as it’d been the first time and he immediately quieted. “No matter what happens the next time I go down there, I’m going to fight like hell to come back. No Reapers is going to take me from you, Jeff.”

James had never called him by his first name before.

His body protested the movement but he left the safety and warmth of James’ arms so that he could meet his gaze, a smirk on his face. “Didn’t know you even knew my name.”

James laughed, leaning forward to press his lips against Joker’s. He stiffened instinctively, unsure how to respond at first, his brain shutting off at the touch. When James pulled back, concerned and a little disappointed, Joker felt a sudden surge of courage. He moved quicker than he expected that he could, grabbing James by the neck and pulling him closer.

Their mouths met again, first kisses wet and clumsy and rushed, tongues dancing imperfectly against the other. Joker was pretty sure his teeth were chipped after a weird movement had their teeth colliding. But they settled in a rhythm of give and take, each learning how the other liked to kiss.

When they finally parted, their heavy breaths filled the silence.

“What does querido mean?” He asked a minute or two later, slipping his hand into James and admiring how, despite their size difference, they fit together so perfectly.

James coughed a laugh, running his free hand over his face. “Uh, it means beloved.”

Joker’s face heated, but he couldn’t stop the grin that appeared even if he wanted to. He’d always been so afraid of this, of letting someone into his heart, to let them know him as more than Joker. But James managed to wiggle his way past his walls and he wasn’t afraid anymore.

“That’s the one.”

James tilted his head curiously, eyes crinkling in confusion. That ever present smile was still lingering: beautiful, perfect, and safe.

“My nickname. That’s the one I want.” Joker pressed another kiss to James’ lips, feeling the marine respond in kind. “I love it.”

James dropped Joker’s hand before pulling him closer, gentle and sure as ever. “I’m yours, querido. As long as you want me.”

Wrapping his arms around James’ neck, Joker pressed a light kiss along the bruises on his cheek, above his eye before finishing at his mouth. He heard the sharp breath James pulled in and he grinned, in disbelief that he could have this. “I want you. And I, uh…” He trailed off, blush burning his cheeks and neck. “I’m yours too, if you want.”

With a soft chuckle, James brushed a hand against his cheek, fingers trailing over the rough hair of his beard. “I want to.”

His heart hammered against his ribs, anxious and afraid for a brief moment. When he calmed down, let his body realize it didn’t need to run from this. I want this. He felt like his smile would split his face if it got any bigger. 

“I don’t do flings with random strangers or haven’t you noticed?” Shepard continued, pushing the plate with his sandwich away. Garrus was hovering just out of reach of the chair across from Shepard, shifting his feet awkwardly, his eyes searching his friend’s face. “The last thing I want to deal with is more of the crew’s problems.” He paused as he remembered why he avoided stepping foot on Omega when they docked. “Or Aria.”

Garrus chuckled, gripping the back of the chair in his hand, talons scraping against the padded back. “My time on Omega gave me some insight into a few things and one of those is ‘don’t bother Aria T’Loak if you want to keep all of your limbs’.” He pulled the chair out next, motioning with his other hand as if to say ‘may I?’ Some things transcended language and cultural barriers.

Shepard was unable to tear his eyes away from those talons. Memories of what Garrus could do with just a single touch during the few times they had spent “releasing” pent up energy and nerves were easy to recall. How simple it was to get lost in those blue eyes, in how Garrus had pressed him up against that ridiculous fish tank and-

Clearing his throat, Shepard crossed his legs, trying to hide the sudden problem in his pants. “Sure.”

Garrus sank into the chair and attempted to find a better position for his legs… which were so much longer than the space that the seat allowed. The Normandy was made for human heights, not turian despite having a lot of turian design. He still had trouble adjusting. He moved one leg under the table, but it was obviously uncomfortable, and then he shifted his entire body the opposite way. 

It was so completely absurd that Shepard had to fight for control over himself. If he laughed at Garrus this early in the conversation, he wouldn’t be able to get in his daily dose of mercilessly teasing him, usually over something so stupid that it would always get a laugh out of him. 

He loved his laugh.

Garrus glanced at the abandoned meal, teeth bared slightly in a look that meant disgust. “Spirits, what is that? Does it taste as awful as it smells?”

“Why? Did you want to try some?” He teased, a smirk curling his lips. Garrus might not be able to actually eat it, but that never stopped Shepard from poking fun at him. “I thought you already ate your delicious dextro-paste.” 

Garrus glanced at him, mandible twitching. “Willing to share? I didn’t realize you cared, Shepard.”

“If you eat it, you might kill yourself. Or at the very least, give yourself a stomach ache. Then I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Garrus rumbled a laugh, his subvocals doing that thing that always turned his stomach into a puddle of molten metal. Shepard always pushed it away, reminding himself that they were friends and getting together a few times for a quickie didn’t mean anything, but the excuses were getting flimsier with each passing encounter.

“Turians don’t have stomachs. We have gizzards.” Garrus crossed his legs before sighing and giving up, leaving them stretched out in front of him. “Well, we have something like a stomach, but it’s not like a stomach in a human. The gizzard-”

Shepard held up his hands, almost pleading when he spoke. “Thank you for the biology lesson, but I don’t need to know.”

“I figured you’d want to know… I mean, if you tried to punch a turian ‘in the stomach’, you'd be disappointed to learn we aren’t as soft as humans.” 

“Is that supposed to be a joke at my expense?” Shepard asked, leaning back in his chair, feeling more at ease with the sudden direction of their conversation. Anything to keep him from thinking about Garrus and that long body pressing against him. “Because I bet I can make you squeal if I punched you, stomach or not.”

“Like you do with all those mercs who try to hit on you at the bar?” Garrus mimicked him and leaned back against his seat. “Is that really why you don't go to Afterlife? Afraid someone might make you feel something?”

“Garrus…” 

“Come on, Shepard. Don’t tell me you're scared.”

“I’ve never been afraid of anything in my entire life.” They both knew that wasn’t true, but neither were willing to risk ruining the moment. With a snort, Shepard tapped his foot against Garrus’ leg and he nearly fell from his chair. “But we both know you’re a chicken.”

“I don’t understand these human turns of phrase. What’s a chicken and why do I feel like it’s offensive?”

A laugh slipped out before Shepard could stop it and when Garrus looked at him with smug satisfaction, he felt his stomach tightened in want.

“I didn’t know you could laugh.” Garrus continued, seeing he had the advantage. 

“Stuff it, Garrus.” 

“Oh come on, it suits you.” Garrus casually reached forward and moved the plate of grilled cheese out of his line of sight. The motion would normally make Shepard roll his eyes or make a biting remark, but Garrus’s words hit him right in the chest.

The sincerity in his voice wasn’t surprising, they were best friends. No, what surprised Shepard was his personal reaction. He managed to keep his cheeks from burning like an overcharged heatsink, but the rest of him tensed, ready to throw himself across the table at the turian’s mercy. He usually had better control than this…

It was Cerberus’s fault. Yeah, they messed something up when they rebuilt him. 

Raising an eyebrow, Shepard pierced Garrus with his icy gaze. “You’re being too nice. What do you want?”

“Why are you always like this?” Garrus trilled, crossing his arms over his carapace. His mandibles moved slightly, opening in a turian equivalent of a grin. 

“Like what? And be careful what you say.” Shepard warned, leaning forward to put his arms on the table. “We might be friends, but I can still kick your ass.”

Garrus shook his head. “What are you going to do, Shepard? Break your hand on my mandibles?”

“You’ve been hanging around Joker too much.” Rolling his eyes, Shepard stood to carry his sandwich to the recycler. If he never saw a grilled cheese again, it would be too soon. “Tell him that his lessons aren’t taking and you still sound like a chickenshit.”

“Chickens again?” His subvocals rumbled again, and Shepard was grateful that he was facing away from him. He wouldn’t be able to see his arousal from that angle. “And I’m not hanging out with Joker. Much.”

“Keep telling yourself that.” Shepard dumped the sandwich down the chute, waiting as it processed the waste. By the time he finished putting the plate in the washer, he was positive he gained enough control over himself to face Garrus again. With a quick breath, he turned away from the kitchenette. Garrus hovered behind him and Shepard took a step back, thankfully keeping his gasp contained. He hadn’t heard him move from the table and yet there he was, towering over him. “What the hell are you doing?”

“You talk a big game for someone who can’t win a fight without biotics.”

He almost choked him for that comment. “Excuse me? I could bodyslam your skinny ass to the floor, Vakarian.”

Garrus leaned forward, forehead nearly touching Shepard’s as his voice dropped to a whisper that had no right being so sexy. “Is that a challenge?”

Shepard stared at him, momentarily stunned by his boldness. He managed to get a hold of his wits and met his gaze, refusing to back down. “You’re damn right it is.”

Garrus straightened to his full height, watching him with an intensity that nearly made him shiver. “Sparring mat, ten minutes. If you don’t show, then I win by default and everyone will know their commander is a coward.”

Shepard knew deep down that he was teasing, trying to provoke him, and dammit, it was working. Before he could manage a response, Garrus had turned and exited the mess. Shepard watched him leave, eyes lingering a little too long on his hips than necessary.

~

Shepard ducked under Garrus’s arms. His slightly shorter height made it difficult for Garrus to get him in a headlock. “You’re going to have to try harder than that, Vakarian.”

Garrus chuckled, mandibles twitching in amusement. He flexed his talons in Shepard’s direction. “I’m going to make you regret those words.”

Shepard grinned. He loved this side of Garrus, the playful banter, the rough and tumble sparring, the inevitable satisfying finish for them both in Shepard’s cabin. But more than that, he wasn’t the uptight turian that had stepped aboard the Normandy over two years ago, looking to take down Saren and prove himself. Here, on a ship surrounded by human terrorists, Garrus was a breath of fresh air, of freedom. He was familiar… he was home.

“You talk a big game, Garrus, but the follow up is lacking.” He felt a thrill when Garrus tilted his head, eyes trailing up and down Shepard’s body. Probably looking for a weakness to exploit, but he enjoyed his gaze focused intently on him. 

When he chuckled, a deep throaty sound that did little to cool the flaring attraction between them, Shepard had to step back and try to regain control before he decided to say the hell with it and press his lips to Garrus’s throat. Although, at this point, it might make for a better workout than their sparring session.

“Keep this up and I’m going to fall asleep.” Shepard taunted him, keeping out of range of his talons. That was one advantage Garrus had that could spell his doom. It wouldn’t take much for him to grab hold. His flexibility wasn’t as good as it could be, but Shepard might be able to keep away long enough to use his strength to subdue him.

Maybe.

“You’ll make it that easy for me, hmm?” Garrus tried to swipe an arm out and snag his waist, but Shepard sidestepped him. “Feel free to lay down, Shepard.”

The thought of lying beneath Garrus’s body only aroused him. The rosy cheeks he’d earned from the workout was now spreading down his neck and across his exposed chest. If Garrus noticed, he didn’t mention it, focused on their sparring. But his brain began to imagine those talons on his legs, exposing his cock while Garrus’s tongue-

Shepard shook his head, trying to purge the images from his mind. He didn’t need this distraction. 

The realization slammed into him like a skycar the moment Garrus managed to ensnare Shepard’s waist in his superior grip, pulling him closer and trying to wrestle him to the ground. It was part of the turian’s plan, to distract him with these thoughts, to take advantage and to win their match with little to no resistance from Shepard.

Hooking his leg around Garrus’s, Shepard managed to use the turian’s height to his disadvantage and rolled backward, the momentum taking him along. Garrus released his hold, stunned by the sudden movement, and went sailing over him. He landed on his back, arms and legs sprawled as he stared at the shuttle bay ceiling, breaths harsh in the quiet.

He scrambled to his feet. Garrus hesitated as Shepard threw himself on top of him, pinning him to the floor. He hovered over Garrus, hands firmly on either side of his head, leaning so close that the tip of Shepard’s nose nearly brushed Garrus. Dominating him so thoroughly was a high he basked in, even if he knew it was luck more than skill that put them here. At least he hadn’t used his biotics to cheat like last time.

“Give up?” He whispered, lips brushing softly against mandibles. He felt pride when Garrus opened his mouth slightly in awe, sharp teeth reflecting the overhead lights.

His eyes met Shepard’s, a blaring blue fire staring back. “Oh, did you think you won? This was all part of my plan.”

His talon brushed against Shepard’s thighs and his muscles tensed at the touch. Oh. Oh.

Shepard inhaled sharply, closing his eyes. Garrus’s grip tightened and a purr left from deep in his chest. The sound was meant to be soothing, but all it did was lit a fire deep in Shepard’s stomach. A groan escaped his lips. As he concentrated on the vibrations against his legs, his earlier thoughts about Garrus’s tongue came to the forefront of his mind.

One of Shepard’s hands covered Garrus’s, still sitting atop his leg. “Garrus, I…”

His words evaporated as Garrus nuzzled his neck, tongue darting out to lick the curve of Shepard’s jaw. Gooseflesh bloomed across his arms and he fought a shiver, trying to concentrate on something, but Garrus was everywhere at once. His tongue and mouth made quick work of him, hands slowly massaging his thighs, slowly creeping to the one spot that screamed for attention.

Shepard was so lost in his pleasure that he barely registered Garrus shift beneath him. Suddenly, before he realized what had happened, Shepard was on his back, hips pressing into the mat as Garrus loomed above him, an expression of triumph on his face.

“What the-” He blinked up at Garrus when he leaned forward, nuzzling his neck once more before pulling back.

“You don’t look so smug now, Commander.”

He couldn’t help it when the laugh burst from him, echoing in the empty bay around them. “You cheated!”

“Me? Cheat? I should be offended, but I’m not.”

“And why’s that?” Shepard somehow managed to ask the question without sounding breathless. His heart beat so loudly in his chest that he was positive Garrus could hear it.

“If the famous Commander Shepard thinks I had to cheat to win, that means I did.”

“Glad to see you admit your flaws, Garrus. Cheating needs to be addressed before it becomes a problem.”

The look he received in return was enough to make Shepard feel like he won, even if his aching back was proved otherwise.

“Quit whining.” Garrus murmured, moving close again, tongue running along the curve of Shepard’s ear.

“You used your turian wiles to distract me.”

“Turians don’t have wiles.” Garrus intoned, taking a nip at his jaw before reluctantly standing, offering a hand in help. “But we do have incredible reach and strength, something humans are always surprised about.”

Shepard’s hand slipped into his and all he could think as he found his footing was how easily they fit together. “Yeah, well, the rest of the turians might not, but you certainly do.”

“I hope that’s a compliment.” 

Once Shepard was back on his feet, he grinned at Garrus. “Always.”

He meant it too. Because Garrus wasn’t like anyone he’d ever met, human or turian or any other alien race. And the more he thought about it, the more Shepard realized that he didn’t want Garrus to leave his side. If they survived the Collectors, he needed Garrus with him to finish this mess. 

Shepard let go of Garrus with a small amount of hesitation before turning to grab a towel from the workbench, wiping sweat from his forehead. 

“Do all humans melt? Or is it just a Shepard thing?” Garrus teased, leaning against the lockers and watching him curiously. 

Shepard rolled his eyes, wiping some more sweat on the towel before chucking it in the turian’s direction. Garrus caught it easily, mandibles flapping in amusement.

“Very funny, Garrus.”

“It’s an honest question.” His expression didn’t have an ounce of honesty in it. “You’re always so on edge. Maybe you need more than just a workout.”

Shepard tried to ignore the flare of heat in his groin at the insinuation, but there was something in Garrus’s subvocals that taunted him. Something that he was ready to give into again.

Fuck, who was he kidding? He wouldn’t be able to deny how deep his desire for Garrus went.

Garrus held the towel out to him, still damp with sweat. Slanting his eyes in suspicion, Shepard reached for it, but Garrus didn’t let go. Instead, the turian pulled him closer, using the towel as leverage. Shepard fell into his waiting arms, glancing up into his face with a smirk.

Shepard raised an eyebrow at him. “See? Cheater.”

Garrus laughed, leaning down to press his forehead against Shepard’s, brushing a talon down the exposed skin of his arm. “Opportunist. Not that you’ve ever complained before.”

Shepard lifted his chin, brushing his lips against Garrus’s mouth, his arousal growing when Garrus breathed in his scent. “I doubt you’ll hear one.”

“Good.” Garrus muttered before wrapping his arms around Shepard, pulling him flush against his carapace, nipping at the sensitive skin at the base of his neck. “Because I’d be heartbroken if you didn’t like me anymore.”

Shepard’s throat closed up, overcome with emotion for the man in his arms. There wasn’t a single moment in time where he could imagine disliking Garrus, but especially now, when they spent so much of their time together as friends, as lovers. He didn’t want to live a life with Garrus.

The hardest thing he’d ever had to do was to pull away, disentangling his limbs from the man he cared for. Shepard stepped back, creating some distance from the tempting kisses and warm embraces.

Garrus met his eyes, confusion obvious in the way he watched Shepard. “Is something wrong?”

“I… Yes.” Shepard ran a hand over his head, the feel of his short buzzed hair a tactile sensation that helped to ground him. The next words out of his mouth broke his heart before he even spoke them. “I can’t do this anymore, Garrus.”

The disappointment radiated from his friend as he crossed his arms. “I don’t know what to say.”

“This isn’t blowing off steam for me, anymore.” Shepard admitted, pushing on despite the hole that appeared in his chest. His hands were shaking, his heart pounding against his rib cage, his stomach in knots. He was terrified of so many things, but losing Garrus was at the top of the list. 

Shepard didn’t usually expose the deepest parts of himself to other people. Sex was one thing, but emotions… those were messy. He usually avoided them, pretended they didn’t exist. But with Garrus, he needed to be truthful about what he felt because if they died at the end of this mission, he wanted to know he’d at least lived with the last of his time.

“What is it then? Because you’ve been giving me mixed signals all night.” Garrus sounded upset and he had every right to be. 

“I’m not trying to lead you on. I just can’t help myself when it comes to you.” Shepard turned away, neck burning. “But I owe you more than a tryst.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Shepard.”

“That isn’t true.” He whispered, feeling his heart in his throat. “I owe you everything.”

Garrus shuffled behind him, reaching for his hand and Shepard let him take it, turning towards him. Garrus squeezed his hand briefly, but Shepard couldn’t meet his gaze, refusing to witness the disappointment, the worry. So he closed his eyes instead, the blackness of the void taking him.

“Shepard-”

“I love you.” He couldn’t stop the confession from tumbling into the silence. 

There was no response, but he could feel Garrus stiffen beside him. He hadn’t been expecting a declaration of love, that was obvious, and Shepard immediately knew it was a mistake. To push the boundaries of their friendship was a lot to ask of Garrus and here he was, dumping something like this on him out of nowhere.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to dump my emotional crap on you.” 

He tried to pull away but Garrus tightened his grip, refusing to let go.

“Shepard, look at me.”

Taking a deep breath, he did as Garrus requested and opened his eyes, slowly trying to leave the dark abyss of his thoughts, setting his fear and doubts aside. When he finally glanced at Garrus, he was rendered speechless by the tenderness he found there.

Garrus moved closer, his hand still holding Shepard’s like his life depended on it, and leaned down to meet his gaze head on. “Do you think this is a fling? Or that I haven’t thought about you night after night, laying on my cot and wondering if I could get away with sneaking up to your cabin? Because I have and it’s not about the sex, Shepard. Even if it’s some of the best I’ve ever had.”

Shepard let out a breathless laugh, his heart fluttering where it belonged, in his chest. 

“I can’t get you out of my head. I’ll be honest, I don’t want to. You… everything I feel about you is unexpected, but I’m happy it’s you that I feel it for. You’re the most wonderful person I’ve ever known, Shepard. And I-”

Shepard didn’t let him finish. Because he didn’t need to hear Garrus say those three words to know their truth. Because he felt it so deeply in the pit of his stomach each time their eyes met across a room. He felt it whenever Garrus responded to his teases with his own quips, whenever a smirk was given back tenfold, or an innocent touch became the most tender of caresses, he knew that Garrus Vakarian was his.

Pressing his lips against Garrus’s throat, he was rewarded with a low purr that increased in volume as Shepard made a trail down to where his carapace began. Then he paused, glancing up to find that Garrus had shut his eyes.

“You ok?” He whispered, feeling whole for the first time since Cerberus had resurrected him.

Garrus trailed his hands up Shepard’s arms, gripping them tightly. His eyes opened and Shepard almost drowned in the depths of his affection. “With you, I’ve never been better.”

Shepard smiled, full of warmth and love and a million other flowery feelings, the turian in front of him trilling in contentment. “I couldn’t do this without you, Garrus.”

“You could, but you don’t have to.” Garrus rubbed a mandible against his cheek, the motion full of more affection than Shepard knew how to deal with. 

Shepard looped his arms around Garrus’s midsection, burying his face into the crevice between his neck and carapace. Nothing made him feel safer than this place right here. He tightened his grip, Garrus responding in kind. “You and me against the galaxy, Vakarian.”