Chapter Text
Catherine Shepard was absolutely miserable.
Ashley’s coldness on Horizon shouldn’t have affected her as much as it did, but the Commander couldn’t shake the words off. Of course she didn’t trust Cerberus, but what was Shepard supposed to do? ‘Thanks for bringing me back, but I’m refusing your help?’ Sure, the Hero of the Citadel didn’t expect Ashley to be ecstatic to find out Catherine was working with Cerberus help, but to walk away like that? It damn hurt.
She was feeling pretty pitiful, her high heels softly clanking against the Normandy’s docking bay on the Citadel, as she tugged down at her short dress. The date had been a nightmare, despite her attempts at concealing who she was. It’d been years, literal years, since she had last gotten laid. Or any kind of consensual intimate contact. She wasn’t exactly desperate, but everything (i.e. Ashley hating her, Liara refusing to join her, personal missions for the crew, crew members antagonizing each other…) was keeping her on edge. Of course, Catherine Shepard was a resourceful, responsible adult. She knew how to take care of things.
But taking care of personal matters isn’t easy when an AI has a tendency to interrupt.
Shepard undid her hair from its bun, letting the long locks of black hair drop over her shoulders. While the ship made its usual decontamination scan, she removed her fancy earrings and all but ripped the bracelet off of her wrist. She groaned softly, realizing the frustrations of not having any romantic contact were probably better than going on stupid dates.
The Commander knew she wasn’t a great flirt, but was she really this bad?
The Normandy was somewhat dark as she walked in. It was late, and being docked at the Citadel meant even those working the graveyard shift were getting a break. She slipped her heels off and held them in her hand, quietly making her way to the elevator and going down a floor. She softly laughed into the back of her hand when she heard Joker snoring at the helm. What a dork.
With her stocking-clad feet almost completely silent against the metal floor, she made her way to the kitchen in hopes of finding herself a drink. She’d go to the Port Observation Deck, but she really didn’t want to wake Kasumi with her wish for alcohol. Actually, maybe she should have tea instead—
“Shepard?”
The Commander almost screamed, her entire body shifting quickly as she raised her fist (which held her jewelry and her shoes) to protect herself. She let out a sigh and clutched her chest with her other hand once she saw who it was. “Garrus,” she murmured, hoping she hadn’t made too much noise, “please don’t ever do that again.”
Garrus seemed amused, his body leaning over the table he sat by, his elbows propped up and his hands together. She could have sworn she could hear his smirk in his voice. “I wasn’t aware you scared so easily.”
“More I have an instinct to destroy anything that tries to sneak up on me,” she replied with a slight huff, setting her jewelry on the table before setting her shoes down on the floor.
“I was sitting here, minding my own business. You’re the one that came in so quietly.”
She shot him a look, but couldn’t help letting out a soft laugh at his smug expression. “You should be a little more loyal to your Commander, Garrus. Cut her some slack.”
“I’ve always said I was a bad turian,” Garrus replied with what looked like a smile. “Go somewhere nice?”
Shepard rolled her eyes and turned away, walking towards the kitchen. “I did, but it was not worth the company.” She grabbed a bottle of wine she knew Mess Sergeant Gardner liked to use for cooking, swearing to herself she’d get him another one tomorrow. She twirled back around, a look on her face Garrus didn’t recognize. “Hence the alcohol.”
“That bad, huh.” Garrus let his chin rest on his hands. “Was he a jerk?”
“She was, yes,” Shepard replied, pouring wine into a coffee mug before coming to sit across from Garrus, next to where she had placed her things. “I thought asari were supposed to be sentimental in nature?”
Garrus chuckled, shaking his head. “Some are.” He watched her intently, still somewhat formal despite how casual she was behaving. The two of them had developed a close friendship over time, sharing stories and battle tactics, but he didn’t get to see her like this often. Not alone, at least. “How bad was it, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Shepard laughed without humor. “She fell asleep on me.”
“She what.”
“Yep.”
Catherine Shepard took a long swig, cupping the mug in her hands, a wry smile on her lips. “I’ve lost my touch, Vakarian. I’m going to die alone on this ship.”
“Or outside of it.”
A pause. He instantly regretted saying it, but eased slightly once the woman before her laughed so loud she placed a hand over her mouth. “That was horrible.”
“I know, I’m sorry,” he replied sincerely, though his eyes were amused by her reaction. “It slipped.”
Shepard laughed quietly into her mug before taking a sip, pleased by the taste of the strong wine. “Did it once, I guess it may happen again.”
While the question he had in mind wasn’t something he knew he should be asking, Garrus was eager to get away from the topic of conversation. “…Were you dating anyone while on the original Normandy?”
Shepard shook her head as she swallowed another sip, the dark orange light of the eating area soaking into her dark hair. “No,” she admitted with a shrug. “I didn’t have time. I was approached by a few, but I refused to date.”
“Wanted to keep your head clear?”
“Oh yeah,” she replied with a slight frown. “I’ve been in relationships with people fighting by my side before. I get too distracted. Sometimes I get tunnel vision and all I can focus on is keeping that one person safe.” She met his eyes, then her frown faded into a gentle smile. “I seem to be getting sentimental over all of you, though. It feels similar to that feeling. Of course, I worried about you all in the beginning; after Akuze…”
Shepard paused, a darkness familiar to the turian in her eyes, and Garrus extended his arm to her. Not for contact, but to show support. “I know.”
The woman nodded once, averting her eyes, the pain fluttering in her chest again. She pushed a lock of her hair behind an ear before continuing. “I was intent on doing everything I could to keep all of you safe.” The pain never became less; it simply became a little easier to deal with after time’s passing.
“But now it feels like more than that,” she continued, a brightness returning to her blue eyes, a look Garrus had enjoyed becoming familiar with. “Does that make sense?”
“Yes,” Garrus replied, relaxing at the expression on her face. She looked so pleasant; her hair tucked behind an ear, the brightness in her eyes, the low-level orange glow of the lights filtering onto her skin, out of her uniform and armor. He felt so at ease with her like this. It made him forget… certain things.
“I’m sorry your date didn’t go well,” he murmured quietly, his voice more like a hum, “but it’s her loss. You look lovely. And you’re Commander Shepard… so.”
The Commander suppressed a laugh as she took another sip. “Thanks,” she replied after she swallowed, “but to her credit, she didn’t know who I was.”
“Oh?” Garrus asked, raising a brow plate. “Trying to be sneaky?”
“I’m not looking for anything serious,” Shepard replied with a shrug. “So I make up names when I go on dates.”
“Who were you tonight?”
Shepard giggled, a grin on her face. “Isabella Villarreal, an opera singer from Earth.”
Garrus paused, chuckling before he was able to mention her voice. “First, I don’t believe you can sing at all. Second, did something go wrong with my translator, or did your voice change?”
Shepard crossed her legs under the table, a smug grin remaining on her face, her eyes playful. “I can too sing, and it’s a name of Spanish origin, so I said it with the appropriate accent.”
“Another human language?”
“Correct,” she said. “You should still be able to understand me because of the translator, but the quality and tones of my voice probably changed.”
“…Could you say something else?”
Shepard smiled at his curiosity. “El caballo baila debajo de la luz de las estrellas.”
“…The horse dances beneath the light of the stars?”
“Yep,” she said with a wink.
Garrus couldn’t help but laugh, his mandibles moving with the effort. “Alright, that’s probably the stupidest sentence I’ve ever heard,” he replied with his eyes meeting her gaze, “but your voice sounded… pleasant. More familiar to me, maybe. Deeper.”
“It’s a tendency I have. One of my closest friends growing up was from Latin America, where Spanish is prevalent. We spoke Spanish together often.”
“I like it,” Garrus replied, enjoying this new piece of information. He liked learning all he could from his Commander, even the personal things.
“Thanks,” Shepard replied with a lovely smile. It made Garrus relax even more, his shoulders slightly slumping as he kept his eyes on the Commander, a pleasant warmth going through him.
The raven-haired soldier took her last sip from the mug before setting it down with a sigh. “Thanks for not letting me be pathetic all night, Garrus. I was going to go have a pity party.”
Garrus chuckled and shook his head. “You’ll find someone to keep you company.”
“This is nicer than all the horrible dates I’ve been on since Cerberus brought me back.” She smiled at him again, another wave of that warmth going through him. “I think I’d rather have this. For now, at least.”
“You’re always welcome to join me,” he replied, his expression like a smile. “I have a tendency to roam the Normandy when most people are in bed. Don’t need as much sleep as humans seem to.”
“I’d like that,” she replied, eyes brightening. “Thank you, Garrus.”
“Anytime, Commander.”
She stood, taking the mug she used to the sink and washing it idly. When she turned around after drying it and putting it away, she caught the turian staring intently at the items she had left on the table. “Know what they are?” she asked as she silently made her way back to him.
“No idea,” he replied. Though he hadn’t moved since she had left, it was obvious he wanted to pick the jewelry up.
“You can take a look at them, you know,” she said with a soft chuckle, taking the delicate earrings between her fingers. “I don’t own much of this stuff, though, so be careful.”
Taking her orders, he gently lifted one of the long earrings with a single gloved talon, his face coming close to the shimmering metal. “What in the world is this for?”
She outright laughed at that, going ahead and placing them on. “They’re called earrings,” she replied, taking her hair in her hands and moving it to the side. “They’re supposed to make me look nice, but I don’t think she cared. That circular thing is called a bracelet. We wear them on our wrists.”
Garrus was still intent on the earrings, his eyes fixed upon the sparkling metal. She smiled and leaned in, her face about a foot from his, so he could have a closer look. He only now noticed she had also painted her lips a deep red, which fit her quite nicely. “…What’s that human expression? Getting toyed up?”
Shepard furrowed her brows, thinking one thing first then laughing as she realized what he meant. “Getting dolled up, you mean. All dressed up?”
“Yes,” he replied, unsure why she had gotten so confused. “You put in effort. It’s a real shame she was terrible.”
“You don’t even know the half of it,” Shepard grumbled, moving away as she picked up her bracelet and put it back on for easy carrying. “I’m wearing thigh-high stockings. You probably don’t know, but they’re a pain to put on.”
“I have no idea what that means,” Garrus admitted, but tried to be sympathetic. Aren’t thighs the tops of human legs? Why would she wear those? “May your efforts go to someone worthwhile.”
“Thanks,” Shepard replied with a sheepish smile. “I hope something better than a jerk asari comes around.”
Garrus laughed quietly, watching her as she picked her shoes up and began to leave. “Ah, Shepard?”
“Yes?” she asked, a smile on her lips that distracted Garrus for a second before he regained his composure.
“So… what is a horse?”