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I wrote a fic for @ginbiscuit to celebrate @masseffectholidaycheer! But Iâm very late!! No one could have predicted this!!! (everyone could have predicted this.) Apologies!!!!
Nevertheless I hope you enjoy :)
SUMMARY
Shepard ground her teeth and watched Garrus lever open another barrel. She got it. She really, really did. It didn't make it any easier. Especially not when James was there twenty meters off, kicking up dust in a sullen, angry cloud, expressing with a twist of his mouth and a contemptuous flip-snap of his omni-blade all the things she wished she could say herself.
Garrus was calm and steady as a sunrise, and James Vega itched like a scab, and that was why she brought them both down here to this shitty moon today, because she knew herself well enough to know that she was losing it.
---
In the thick of the Reaper war, as planets melt under their combined might, Shepard takes her most and least experienced squadmates out to hunt for a morale boost.
Dry Harvest in a Small Season
(2379 words) by alden
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Mass Effect Trilogy, Mass Effect 3 - Fandom
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Relationships: Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian
Characters: Female Shepard (Mass Effect), Garrus Vakarian, James Vega
Additional Tags: Angst with a Happy Ending, Wartime, Fetch Quest, team bonding exercise, staring into the abyss and maybe it stares back a little and maybe you make a new friend, Canon Compliant, thank you mass effect wiki
The day is finally here and I can share what Iâve been working on! đÂ
My MEBB fic âHeart of Glassâ just went live, so if reading about John Shepard and one James Vega does tickle your fancy, you should head this way: read Heart of Glass
The wonderful art, including the banner with this fantastic dragon, was done by @blasteddoodles. Thank you so much for your art - and for the great collab!đ Beta by none other than the wonderful @iberiandoctor. â€ïž
Now, on to the juicy details:
The fic is rated explicit / NC-17, contains hurt/comfort, pining, trauma (aka the whole damn war) and, as a warning for those of you that always remembered to feed Shepâs fish, a small little mention of war-related fish-death.
Summary: Shepard has been in a coma since the war ended, with no hope for improvement - until Liara unearths experimental tech that might just be the thing to help them. James quickly volunteers to use it - ready to do anything to get Shepard back. Little does he know what he gets himself into. As means of protection, Shepardâs mind has constructed a new world around him filled with magical creatures, wonderment, and danger. James now faces the difficult task of getting them outâand trying not to give away what he really feels for Shepard.
Why are you still reading this? Go read fic! Follow the white rabbit hedgehog: Please take me to the MEBB Shepard/James fic!
Happy SpecReqs 2023, @ginbiscuit! I loved your list of requests so much I had to write you another fic. I hope that's ok! So here is some Joker (my fave boy) and James Vega.
Beta done by @comeoniwantacoolname, thank you hun!
~~~~
Title: Yours
Summary:Â
What's in a name?
The hell if Joker knows, but it's important to James Vega to give him a nickname, no matter how much he wishes it wasn't. And if someone asked him if he cared about what the nickname ended up being, he would deny it with his last breath.
No amount of denial can change the truth. He secretly loves the attention.
Words: 5816
Rating: T
Relationship: Jeff "Joker" Moreau/James Vega
Additional Tags: Friends to Lovers, Nicknames, Teasing, Massages, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Food as a Love Language, Fluff, Developing Relationship
Read on AO3
~~~
Jeff Moreau was used to being alone. Call it a self preservation instinct or whatever, but each time he let himself trust someone, gave them access to his innermost thoughts and feelings, offered them a chance to know him on a deeper level than just âIâm the best pilot in the Allianceâ, it always ended with him being disappointed. He could count on one hand the amount of people he trusted more than skin deep and one of them was a sentient AI that could probably kill him by sucking the air out of the entire ship.
It didnât matter to him. At least, thatâs what he told himself. He was always the loner, ever since grade school, since joining the Alliance, and since graduating flight academy. But it irked him a little whenever he saw members of the crew gathered in the mess during their downtime: to play poker, or eat together, or just shoot the shit about inconsequential things. Anything that didnât involve the damned war they lived and breathed.
Thatâs why he was immediately suspicious when Lieutenant James Vega came aboard.Â
At first glance, Vega seemed like the jocks that used to pick on him in high school: dumb and too into his own muscles to have anything of substance to say. He worked out in the shuttle bay every day. That had to be on the same level of sociopathy as stealing candy from babies.
He even wondered if Shepard had warned Vega about his special brand of humor.
During one of those first nights after leaving Earth to the Reapers, when Jeff had put EDI in charge of flying to the Citadel so he could rest before docking, he ran into Vega in the mess, cooking.
And the food didnât smell like Gardnerâs crap from when Shepard had flown with Cerberus.
Upon sensing his entrance, Vega turned and gave him a small wave, before becoming engrossed in his food preparations once more. Jeff nodded in response, digging into the fridge for something to drink. He wasnât looking for anything in particular, maybe a light snack before hitting the rack, but he wanted to do it in silence. And Vega seemed incapable of staying quiet.
âHey Wings, you want any?â
It took him a minute to realize that Vega was talking to him. âWhat did you just call me?â
The spot between Vegaâs eyes wrinkled, nose scrunching as if he realized his nickname could be offensive. âSorry, itâs something I do with everyone. Make up nicknames. I can stop if it makes you uncomfortable.â
Did it? Make him uncomfortable? He was going to say, yeah donât do that again and leave me the hell alone, but Vega didnât 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 wasnât the water heâd had his eyes on until he closed the fridge. Heâd 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.
âLook, Lieutenant. I donât mind a nickname but, uh, do you think you could come up with something a little better than Wings?â
The marine cracked a grin. âWhat did you have in mind?â
âI donât know! Something better than that. Hell, just use Joker because itâs my actual name.â 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 Jamesâ foot. The soldier glanced at it briefly before stooping down to pick it up.Â
Joker wouldâve made a run for it if he thought he could escape without breaking a leg, but that wasnât 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.
âHeads up, that shake tastes more like those indigestion meds that the doc gives you than actual strawberries.â Vega turned back to his pan and whatever it was he was cooking. âOr you can still have a bite of my machaca.â
He had no idea what the hell that was.
âI think Iâll survive fine, thanks.â
Vega shrugged as if he wasnât bothered either way.Â
Joker watched him a minute longer than he shouldâve, but wasnât 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 heâd 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 wasnât 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 didnât expect her to take teaching so seriously, but he liked to be surprised at times. Even with someone nicknamed âthe Psychotic Biotic.â
âWhere the hell is Shepard?â She muttered, tossing the datapad on the table before reaching for her beer. He couldnât tell what it was by the label but it was definitely not from a human brewery. âHe was supposed to meet me here to go over war shit.â
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. âShepard does whatever he wants. He is the boss.â
âHeâs not my boss.â
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 wasnât willing to antagonize. She could probably kill him with the datapad in front of her.Â
Or that stylus she was twirling between her fingers.
âDidnât say he was. But heâs the most sought after guy in the galaxy right now.â He continued, reaching for his own drink, hoping to avoid talking more before he stuck his foot in his mouth.
Jack rolled her eyes. âYou donât have to tell me that, Flyboy.â
âHey, thatâs a good one!â A voice said over the booming music, directly next to their table. âMind if I borrow it?â
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?
âBorrow what, Muscles?â 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. Jokerâs hand tightened around the drink he held. âBecause Iâll give you anything you want.â
Vega raised an eyebrow at her, returning her grin with his own. âI was talking about the nickname for our pilot here, but I canât turn down an offer like that.â
Joker sighed, pulling his hat down to avoid seeing the flirting, but unfortunately he could still hear. âCan you take this somewhere else, please? Iâd rather not have Vega drool in my beer.â
Jack kicked the table between them, making the drinks wobble dangerously. âHey, asshole. Thatâs rude.â
âYouâre worried about me being rude?â 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?
âUhâŠâ James glanced between them as he and Jack stared daggers at each other. âAm I missing something?â
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 Jackâs probing gaze and scanned the crowd that gyrated around them. His neck burned, embarrassed at how childish he was being.Â
So maybe he wasnât as ok with being alone as he thought.
âI⊠uh⊠have some friends I need to get back to.â 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 wasnât with them. âBut Iâll see you on the ship, man.â
âYeah.â 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. âUh, what the fuck was that?â
âNothing.â
Jack leaned forward and rested her arms on the table, studying him briefly. âIâm not buying the shit youâre selling. What the hell did Muscles do to you?â A smile curled her lips in the next moment and Joker knew he wasnât going to like what was going to come out of her mouth next. âWait- are you jealous?â
Joker winced and rubbed his temple, a headache forming behind his eyes. âNo.â
Jack laughed, clapping her hands together and relaxing in her seat, a sparkle of mischievous intent in her eyes. âOh, you are.â
With a disgruntled sigh, Joker pushed the chair back, refusing to be a part of Jackâs games. âIâm going back to the ship.â
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 wasnât pushing himself to the edge, then he wasnât Jeff Moreau.
âYou should rest, Jeff.â
Normally, he wouldâve argued, but tonight he was too tired. A long 15 hours of flying on so little sleep from the night before. He shouldâve 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.
âThanks, mom.â
âI am aware that you are using sarcasm, but my intentions are similar to that of a family member. A sister, perhaps.â
âAre you saying you want to be my sister, EDI?â
âIâm saying I care about you, Jeff.â
He sighed, taking his cap off and running a hand through his flattened hair. âYeah, I know. Fine. Iâll take a break.â
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.Â
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 wouldnât 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.Â
When he crossed the threshold into the medbay, Chakwas glanced up from her terminal, eyes widening. âJeff. Are you alright?â
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 heâd 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.
âSorry for bothering you so late, but uh, I need something for my back.â
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. âTake these with a full glass of water. Then get some rest.â
âAye, aye.â He muttered weakly, giving a half hearted salute before shuffling from the medbay.Â
He couldnât 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 didnât even bother with a greeting, needing food and a nap, but having the energy for neither.
âRough day, Jefe?â
âSomething like that.â Turning his head to lay his cheek against the table, he watched as Vega approached with a plate piled high with another food heâd never seen before. âWhat does that mean? Jefe?â
âBoss.â The soldier slid onto the seat next to him, setting the plate down gently. At eye level, Joker could see whatever the food heâd made was wrapped in a rough yellowish looking paper. He thought it was paper, at least.
âDonât let Shepard hear you say that. Pretty sure heâll be offended if you call me that and not him.â
âNah, Loco likes his nickname. Heâs the easiest CO Iâve had.â James leaned against the chair and watched him with⊠not pity, exactly. Kindness, understanding. Definitely unexpected.
âYeah, donât think Iâm a Jefe, no offense.â
Vega shrugged as if the entire thing didnât mean anything to him. But it clearly did since he was still trying to come up with a nickname for Joker that wasnât his call sign. âNone taken.âÂ
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. âWhat is it?â
âA tamale. My Abuela's recipe. Trust me, itâs the best thing youâll ever put in your mouth.â
His cheeks heated, mind taking a dirtier turn than it really needed to. âUh, sure it is.â 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 didnât have this problem. They would trade barbs, good natured flirting that meant absolutely nothing because it couldnât. 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 wasnât sure he liked it.
âCan I ask you a question?â
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 didnât look that way at all. âLike I could stop you.â
Vega huffed a laugh, watching him fondly. It did nothing for the blush that covered his face. âItâs nothing too weird, I promise.â
âThat does nothing to make me feel less suspicious.â
Vegaâs smile faltered slightly, but didnât disappear. Joker didnât know why that mattered to him. âAre you in pain?â
Jokerâs eyes dropped to the plate in front of him. It gave him a reason not to meet Vegaâs eyes while he confessed to his weakness. âIs it that obvious?â
The man beside him shifted. He seemed a lot less confident than normal. âIâm not a doctor or anything, but I give a killer massage. If you, uh, ever want to take me up on it.â
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 didnât 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.Â
âYou arenât supposed to eat the husk.â
Spitting it out on the plate, he glared as the marine laughed, tears leaking from his eyes. âThanks for the heads up.â
âAnything for you, Jefe.â
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 Vegaâs privacy even if it wasnât really private at all. This was where he stayed most of his day working and when he wasnât 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 Vegaâs feast for the day was.
But he hadnât shown up tonight.
So here Joker was, standing like an idiot in the shuttle bay waiting for a sign that he should approach.Â
Heâd been thinking about the offered massage for weeks now. He didnât know how to bring it up again because it wasnât something you just asked for. Especially from someone who wasnât your doctor or physical therapist.Â
There hadnât been an opportunity for it to come up naturally in their conversations and he didnât 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 itâd 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 wouldnât have to mention it again. If James could work out the kinks in his muscles as good as he cookedâŠ
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 didnât 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.Â
Just push it. Do it dammit.
âHey man, what brings you all the way down here?â
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 Jamesâ eyebrows went up in concern.
âHey, Vega. Didnât know you were holed up down here. Pretty sure I hit the wrong button.â He brushed his hand over the back of his neck, fingers playing with the hair at the base of his neck. âI meant to go get some food, but ended up here. Sorry to bother you.â
They were stupid, the words that tumbled out of his mouth. He probably shouldâve let it go, hit the elevator button and gone back to his chair, but his pain and Shepardâs words had given him a burst of courage.Â
When he finally met Vegaâs gaze, those dark eyes said so much more than his words could, and Joker immediately knew that he would be sorry if he didnât follow through.Â
Would he embarrass himself? Without a doubt. But if he could get some relief from his awful aches, heâd bear it willingly.
James inspected him briefly, taking in the nervous grin and the slumped shoulders before shaking his head. He didnât 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.
âLook, Vega-â
âCall me James.âÂ
Joker sighed in exhaustion, dropping his gaze to the ground, feeling even more like an idiot. Heâd 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 wasnât obvious in the glaring white lights. âYeah, ok. James. Listen, Iâve never had many friends before so I donât know whatâs appropriate and whatâs not, but-â
âYou want one of my massages.âÂ
It wasnât 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.Â
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 wouldnât notice him unless they bumped into him.
âDo you sleep here?â 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.
âSometimes. It depends on how much modding Loco needs done on the weapons.â When James faced him again, he noticed that Joker was standing near the cot but hadnât moved. âUh, not sure if you want to sit or lay down.â
âIâll sit.â
The idea of lying in Jamesâ cot and having his hands on him did things to Jokerâs body that he didnât 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.
âUm, do you mind not crushing me in your gorilla hands?â Joker managed with a strangled squeak, trying not to sound too terrified. âI break easily.â
James coughed, clearly attempting to cover a laugh. âI got you, HalcĂłn.â
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 Jamesâ fingers running along his spine, brushing against his shoulder, accidently touching the skin of his side when his shirt shifted. He hadnât felt this relaxed in years. Definitely before he began flying for the Normandy.
James cleared his throat.
Thatâs when Joker noticed the warmth at his back and Jamesâ breath against his neck. He stiffened immediately, the entire length of his body pressing into the marineâs solid chest. Vegaâs hands werenât massaging him anymore, but were instead resting against his waist, as if he was embracing him.
Joker wouldâve jumped away if he was physically capable. He untangled himself from Vegaâs arms, cheeks burning, hoping he didnât do anything weirder than that.Â
As if it could get weirder, dumbass.
âUh, sorry.â He managed, glancing at James from the corner of his eye. When he realized that the marine wasnât 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. âYeah. Itâs fine. Iâm going to finish these mods, if thatâs cool.â
Joker didnât 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 didnât know what to do about it.
âHeâs alright, Jeff.â EDIâs voice said softly from overhead.Â
âYeah.â
âJeff, your heart rate-â
âIâm fine, EDI.â 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 JamesâŠ
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 isnât 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 wasnât 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 heâd gotten so used to. There was a question in Jamesâ gaze, lips curling into a smile the longer the silence stretched.
âI brought you something to eat.â Joker said, trying to sound somewhat put together, but he could hear the strangled way his voice came out. âI mean, if you want.â
Jamesâs eyes glanced over at the plate before returning to him. âSmells good. What is it?â
âOh, an old recipe my mom used to make me when I was sick. Uh, not that youâre sick. It just makes me feel better and I thought it would make you feel better. And now Iâm assuming things-
He trailed off, leaving the things he should be saying aloud unsaid.Â
When he didnât continue, James cleared his throat, trying to peek at the plate. âYou didnât say what it was and I am hungry.â
Joker let out a small laugh, his heart settling into a steady rhythm that wasnât going to kill him. âItâs 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.â
James watched him as his words failed, leaving him staring at the food. âAre you ok?â
âMe?â Joker had to stop himself from exploding in anger. Did he not realize how close itâd been? âYouâre the one who almost got crushed by a fucking Reaper.â
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 Jeffâs 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.
âIâm ok, querido.â He whispered, pulling Joker on the bed and wrapping him in his arms. Joker took in a shaky breath, burying his face in Jamesâ chest, feeling all at once like heâd come home and terrified that he almost lost the most important person in his life. âIâm not going anywhere.â
âYou don't know that.â Joker mumbled, refusing to let go of James even if his voice could barely be heard. âI donât know that either. The Normandy could get hit, I could-â
James ran a hand down his back, his touch as soothing as itâd been the first time and he immediately quieted. âNo matter what happens the next time I go down there, Iâm going to fight like hell to come back. No Reapers is going to take me from you, Jeff.â
James had never called him by his first name before.
His body protested the movement but he left the safety and warmth of Jamesâ arms so that he could meet his gaze, a smirk on his face. âDidnât know you even knew my name.â
James laughed, leaning forward to press his lips against Jokerâs. 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.
âWhat does querido mean?â 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. âUh, it means beloved.â
Jokerâs face heated, but he couldnât stop the grin that appeared even if he wanted to. Heâd 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 wasnât afraid anymore.
âThatâs the one.â
James tilted his head curiously, eyes crinkling in confusion. That ever present smile was still lingering: beautiful, perfect, and safe.
âMy nickname. Thatâs the one I want.â Joker pressed another kiss to Jamesâ lips, feeling the marine respond in kind. âI love it.â
James dropped Jokerâs hand before pulling him closer, gentle and sure as ever. âIâm yours, querido. As long as you want me.â
Wrapping his arms around Jamesâ 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. âI want you. And I, uhâŠâ He trailed off, blush burning his cheeks and neck. âIâm yours too, if you want.â
With a soft chuckle, James brushed a hand against his cheek, fingers trailing over the rough hair of his beard. âI want to.â
His heart hammered against his ribs, anxious and afraid for a brief moment. When he calmed down, let his body realize it didnât need to run from this. I want this. He felt like his smile would split his face if it got any bigger.Â
It wasnât âI love youâ, but this thing between them was new, all of it. And when Jeff thought about it later, laying in his bunk and grinning like an idiot teenager, he realized those words meant more to him than any âI love youâ could.
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Happy SpecReqs 2023, @ginbiscuit! Hope you don't mind I took your last suggestion and did something with Shepard/Garrus. Have some mutual pining, friends to lovers, and sparring! Enjoy!
Special shoutout to my beta for this fic, @korblez <3
~~~~
Title: Collide
Summary:Â Shepard has never been afraid of anything in his entire life. So why is he suddenly terrified of what he feels for a certain turian vigilante?
Words: 4108
Rating: M
Relationship: Male Shepard/Garrus Vakarian
Additional Tags: Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers, Banter, Sparring, Sexual Tension, Love Confessions, Friends With Benefits, Mass Effect 2, Fluff
Read on AO3
~~~~
âSo, Shepard- No late night flings? Whatâs the word that humans call it? âOne last hurrayâ?â
Shepard glanced up from the sandwich heâd been eating. Gardner claimed it was grilled cheese but cheddar didnât have a weird tanginess to it that he pretended wasnât there. He didnât know where it came from, but it certainly wasnât anywhere that had actual cows. Because anyone with taste buds could tell.
âHurrah. And if youâre going to use human idioms, try to get them right.â
Trying to hide his disappointment in the evening meal, he settled back in his seat, taking in the sight of Garrus standing before him. It was still strange to see him dressed down in civilian clothing. The many years and missions theyâd spent together had burned an image into his mind of Garrus in full combat gear, carrying that enormous sniper rifle he never left without.Â
And now, with an accompanying scar.
Shepard wanted to be surprised that Garrus was still on the ship, but he wasnât. Garrus spent most of his time working on the Hammerhead down in the shuttle bay, making sure it was ready for whatever mess they got into next.Â
It wasnât the Mako though and Garrus made sure everyone knew he preferred the tank to the hovercraft.
Shepard sighed, unsure of how to respond to his question because⊠well, that was just it, wasnât it? Omega was a living, semi-breathing world just outside the airlock, waiting to be explored or fucked⊠or anything else really. But he didnât find any of it as entertaining as the rest of the crew seemed to. While Miranda was probably doing some shady business for Cerberus, Samara and Thane most likely hunted bad people who needed to atone for their sins. Then there was Jack, Grunt, and Zaeed⊠most likely those three were causing some sort of trouble for Aria that heâd have to address before they left.
Still, the question irked him.
âI donât do flings with random strangers or havenât you noticed?â 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 friendâs face. âThe last thing I want to deal with is more of the crewâs problems.â He paused as he remembered why he avoided stepping foot on Omega when they docked. âOr Aria.â
Garrus chuckled, gripping the back of the chair in his hand, talons scraping against the padded back. âMy time on Omega gave me some insight into a few things and one of those is âdonât bother Aria TâLoak if you want to keep all of your limbsâ.â He pulled the chair out next, motioning with his other hand as if to say âmay I?â 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 âreleasingâ 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. âSure.â
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.Â
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 wouldnât 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.Â
He loved his laugh.
Garrus glanced at the abandoned meal, teeth bared slightly in a look that meant disgust. âSpirits, what is that? Does it taste as awful as it smells?â
âWhy? Did you want to try some?â 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. âI thought you already ate your delicious dextro-paste.âÂ
Garrus glanced at him, mandible twitching. âWilling to share? I didnât realize you cared, Shepard.â
âIf you eat it, you might kill yourself. Or at the very least, give yourself a stomach ache. Then Iâll never hear the end of it.â
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 didnât mean anything, but the excuses were getting flimsier with each passing encounter.
âTurians donât have stomachs. We have gizzards.â Garrus crossed his legs before sighing and giving up, leaving them stretched out in front of him. âWell, we have something like a stomach, but itâs not like a stomach in a human. The gizzard-â
Shepard held up his hands, almost pleading when he spoke. âThank you for the biology lesson, but I donât need to know.â
âI figured youâd want to know⊠I mean, if you tried to punch a turian âin the stomachâ, you'd be disappointed to learn we arenât as soft as humans.âÂ
âIs that supposed to be a joke at my expense?â 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. âBecause I bet I can make you squeal if I punched you, stomach or not.â
âLike you do with all those mercs who try to hit on you at the bar?â Garrus mimicked him and leaned back against his seat. âIs that really why you don't go to Afterlife? Afraid someone might make you feel something?â
âGarrusâŠâÂ
âCome on, Shepard. Donât tell me you're scared.â
âIâve never been afraid of anything in my entire life.â They both knew that wasnât true, but neither were willing to risk ruining the moment. With a snort, Shepard tapped his foot against Garrusâ leg and he nearly fell from his chair. âBut we both know youâre a chicken.â
âI donât understand these human turns of phrase. Whatâs a chicken and why do I feel like itâs offensive?â
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.
âI didnât know you could laugh.â Garrus continued, seeing he had the advantage.Â
âStuff it, Garrus.âÂ
âOh come on, it suits you.â 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 Garrusâs words hit him right in the chest.
The sincerity in his voice wasnât 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 turianâs mercy. He usually had better control than thisâŠ
It was Cerberusâs fault. Yeah, they messed something up when they rebuilt him.Â
Raising an eyebrow, Shepard pierced Garrus with his icy gaze. âYouâre being too nice. What do you want?â
âWhy are you always like this?â Garrus trilled, crossing his arms over his carapace. His mandibles moved slightly, opening in a turian equivalent of a grin.Â
âLike what? And be careful what you say.â Shepard warned, leaning forward to put his arms on the table. âWe might be friends, but I can still kick your ass.â
Garrus shook his head. âWhat are you going to do, Shepard? Break your hand on my mandibles?â
âYouâve been hanging around Joker too much.â 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. âTell him that his lessons arenât taking and you still sound like a chickenshit.â
âChickens again?â His subvocals rumbled again, and Shepard was grateful that he was facing away from him. He wouldnât be able to see his arousal from that angle. âAnd Iâm not hanging out with Joker. Much.â
âKeep telling yourself that.â 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 hadnât heard him move from the table and yet there he was, towering over him. âWhat the hell are you doing?â
âYou talk a big game for someone who canât win a fight without biotics.â
He almost choked him for that comment. âExcuse me? I could bodyslam your skinny ass to the floor, Vakarian.â
Garrus leaned forward, forehead nearly touching Shepardâs as his voice dropped to a whisper that had no right being so sexy. âIs that a challenge?â
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. âYouâre damn right it is.â
Garrus straightened to his full height, watching him with an intensity that nearly made him shiver. âSparring mat, ten minutes. If you donât show, then I win by default and everyone will know their commander is a coward.â
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 Garrusâs arms. His slightly shorter height made it difficult for Garrus to get him in a headlock. âYouâre going to have to try harder than that, Vakarian.â
Garrus chuckled, mandibles twitching in amusement. He flexed his talons in Shepardâs direction. âIâm going to make you regret those words.â
Shepard grinned. He loved this side of Garrus, the playful banter, the rough and tumble sparring, the inevitable satisfying finish for them both in Shepardâs cabin. But more than that, he wasnât 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.
âYou talk a big game, Garrus, but the follow up is lacking.â He felt a thrill when Garrus tilted his head, eyes trailing up and down Shepardâs body. Probably looking for a weakness to exploit, but he enjoyed his gaze focused intently on him.Â
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 Garrusâs throat. Although, at this point, it might make for a better workout than their sparring session.
âKeep this up and Iâm going to fall asleep.â Shepard taunted him, keeping out of range of his talons. That was one advantage Garrus had that could spell his doom. It wouldnât take much for him to grab hold. His flexibility wasnât as good as it could be, but Shepard might be able to keep away long enough to use his strength to subdue him.
Maybe.
âYouâll make it that easy for me, hmm?â Garrus tried to swipe an arm out and snag his waist, but Shepard sidestepped him. âFeel free to lay down, Shepard.â
The thought of lying beneath Garrusâs body only aroused him. The rosy cheeks heâd earned from the workout was now spreading down his neck and across his exposed chest. If Garrus noticed, he didnât mention it, focused on their sparring. But his brain began to imagine those talons on his legs, exposing his cock while Garrusâs tongue-
Shepard shook his head, trying to purge the images from his mind. He didnât need this distraction.Â
The realization slammed into him like a skycar the moment Garrus managed to ensnare Shepardâs waist in his superior grip, pulling him closer and trying to wrestle him to the ground. It was part of the turianâs 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 Garrusâs, Shepard managed to use the turianâs 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 Shepardâs 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 hadnât used his biotics to cheat like last time.
âGive up?â 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 Shepardâs, a blaring blue fire staring back. âOh, did you think you won? This was all part of my plan.â
His talon brushed against Shepardâs thighs and his muscles tensed at the touch. Oh. Oh.
Shepard inhaled sharply, closing his eyes. Garrusâs 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 Shepardâs stomach. A groan escaped his lips. As he concentrated on the vibrations against his legs, his earlier thoughts about Garrusâs tongue came to the forefront of his mind.
One of Shepardâs hands covered Garrusâs, still sitting atop his leg. âGarrus, IâŠâ
His words evaporated as Garrus nuzzled his neck, tongue darting out to lick the curve of Shepardâs 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.
âWhat the-â He blinked up at Garrus when he leaned forward, nuzzling his neck once more before pulling back.
âYou donât look so smug now, Commander.â
He couldnât help it when the laugh burst from him, echoing in the empty bay around them. âYou cheated!â
âMe? Cheat? I should be offended, but Iâm not.â
âAnd whyâs that?â 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.
âIf the famous Commander Shepard thinks I had to cheat to win, that means I did.â
âGlad to see you admit your flaws, Garrus. Cheating needs to be addressed before it becomes a problem.â
The look he received in return was enough to make Shepard feel like he won, even if his aching back was proved otherwise.
âQuit whining.â Garrus murmured, moving close again, tongue running along the curve of Shepardâs ear.
âYou used your turian wiles to distract me.â
âTurians donât have wiles.â Garrus intoned, taking a nip at his jaw before reluctantly standing, offering a hand in help. âBut we do have incredible reach and strength, something humans are always surprised about.â
Shepardâs hand slipped into his and all he could think as he found his footing was how easily they fit together. âYeah, well, the rest of the turians might not, but you certainly do.â
âI hope thatâs a compliment.âÂ
Once Shepard was back on his feet, he grinned at Garrus. âAlways.â
He meant it too. Because Garrus wasnât like anyone heâd ever met, human or turian or any other alien race. And the more he thought about it, the more Shepard realized that he didnât want Garrus to leave his side. If they survived the Collectors, he needed Garrus with him to finish this mess.Â
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.Â
âDo all humans melt? Or is it just a Shepard thing?â Garrus teased, leaning against the lockers and watching him curiously.Â
Shepard rolled his eyes, wiping some more sweat on the towel before chucking it in the turianâs direction. Garrus caught it easily, mandibles flapping in amusement.
âVery funny, Garrus.â
âItâs an honest question.â His expression didnât have an ounce of honesty in it. âYouâre always so on edge. Maybe you need more than just a workout.â
Shepard tried to ignore the flare of heat in his groin at the insinuation, but there was something in Garrusâs subvocals that taunted him. Something that he was ready to give into again.
Fuck, who was he kidding? He wouldnât 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 didnât 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. âSee? Cheater.â
Garrus laughed, leaning down to press his forehead against Shepardâs, brushing a talon down the exposed skin of his arm. âOpportunist. Not that youâve ever complained before.â
Shepard lifted his chin, brushing his lips against Garrusâs mouth, his arousal growing when Garrus breathed in his scent. âI doubt youâll hear one.â
âGood.â 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. âBecause Iâd be heartbroken if you didnât like me anymore.â
Shepardâs throat closed up, overcome with emotion for the man in his arms. There wasnât 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 didnât want to live a life with Garrus.
The hardest thing heâd 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. âIs something wrong?â
âI⊠Yes.â 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. âI canât do this anymore, Garrus.â
The disappointment radiated from his friend as he crossed his arms. âI donât know what to say.â
âThis isnât blowing off steam for me, anymore.â 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.Â
Shepard didnât 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 didnât 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 heâd at least lived with the last of his time.
âWhat is it then? Because youâve been giving me mixed signals all night.â Garrus sounded upset and he had every right to be.Â
âIâm not trying to lead you on. I just canât help myself when it comes to you.â Shepard turned away, neck burning. âBut I owe you more than a tryst.â
âYou donât owe me anything, Shepard.â
âThat isnât true.â He whispered, feeling his heart in his throat. âI owe you everything.â
Garrus shuffled behind him, reaching for his hand and Shepard let him take it, turning towards him. Garrus squeezed his hand briefly, but Shepard couldnât meet his gaze, refusing to witness the disappointment, the worry. So he closed his eyes instead, the blackness of the void taking him.
âShepard-â
âI love you.â He couldnât stop the confession from tumbling into the silence.Â
There was no response, but he could feel Garrus stiffen beside him. He hadnât 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.
âIâm sorry. I didnât mean to dump my emotional crap on you.âÂ
He tried to pull away but Garrus tightened his grip, refusing to let go.
âShepard, look at me.â
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 Shepardâs like his life depended on it, and leaned down to meet his gaze head on. âDo you think this is a fling? Or that I havenât 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 itâs not about the sex, Shepard. Even if itâs some of the best Iâve ever had.â
Shepard let out a breathless laugh, his heart fluttering where it belonged, in his chest.Â
âI canât get you out of my head. Iâll be honest, I donât want to. You⊠everything I feel about you is unexpected, but Iâm happy itâs you that I feel it for. Youâre the most wonderful person Iâve ever known, Shepard. And I-â
Shepard didnât let him finish. Because he didnât 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 Garrusâs 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.
âYou ok?â He whispered, feeling whole for the first time since Cerberus had resurrected him.
Garrus trailed his hands up Shepardâs arms, gripping them tightly. His eyes opened and Shepard almost drowned in the depths of his affection. âWith you, Iâve never been better.â
Shepard smiled, full of warmth and love and a million other flowery feelings, the turian in front of him trilling in contentment. âI couldnât do this without you, Garrus.â
âYou could, but you donât have to.â Garrus rubbed a mandible against his cheek, the motion full of more affection than Shepard knew how to deal with.Â
Shepard looped his arms around Garrusâs 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. âYou and me against the galaxy, Vakarian.â
Garrus sighed, relaxing in his arms, running a hand down his back. âIâm here with you until the end. Always will be.â