A/N: Hello dear readers!
This story started out as...what's the writing equivalent of "ear worm?" Anyway, I started writing this story because I needed a break from the more serious and suspenseful storyline of Parallel Lives. It's mainly a fun, fluff piece that I wrote mostly for my own enjoyment. I hope you find it enjoyable as well. If you're looking for a more serious, traditional, or action-based Mass Effect story be sure to check out my other pieces: Parallel Lives and Different Horizons
As always, I do not own Mass Effect or any of the characters. All rights belong to BioWare and EA Games.
~Jamie
Call it intuition or a sixth sense or whatever you will, but I knew, even before I opened my eyes, that something wasn't right. Maybe it was because of the way my head pounded, or the strange feeling of foreboding that was firmly knotted in the pit of my stomach. Or maybe, it had everything to do with the warm body pressed up against my side and my complete inability to recall how I'd gotten myself into this situation.
Drinking to the point of memory lapse just wasn't my style, and falling into bed with someone after a night of said drinking was even more out of character for me. Hell, even if it were, I rarely had time for any of it. The demand of saving the galaxy from the reapers took virtually all of my attention, and was usually in the back of my mind despite my best attempts to let loose and relax.
Except for last night, apparently.
Inhaling deeply—which instantly made my head throb even worse—I lifted one heavy eyelid and tentatively peered at my surroundings. The cream-colored walls of my apartment bedroom wavered into view, and I let out a shaky breath.
Okay, I'd made back to my apartment. I hadn't passed out at someone else's place. That was something, at least.
As if he could hear my thoughts, my companion shifted next to me, causing the bed jiggle, and I knew I was only seconds away from finding out who I'd chosen to take home with me. My heart immediately kicked into overdrive, pumping blood up into my head with such a vengeance that it made the room spin and I suddenly feared I might lose whatever meager contents were left in my stomach.
There was no point in putting off the inevitable, so I took another deep breath to steel myself and glanced down at the sleeping form next to me. What I saw made the blood freeze in my veins.
Oh, Jesus. How did I end up in bed with my best friend? Biting my lower lip, I slowly lifted the covers and peeked underneath. Make that my half-naked best friend.
Garrus was lying next to me, his face half buried in the pillow. He'd stuck one leg out of the covers, and it now rested on top of me, effectively trapping me in the bed. His arms, thank god, were pulled close to his body. I don't know what I would have done if they'd been draped over me. Screamed, probably.
I needed to get out of there, preferably before he woke up. Somehow, the thought of facing him was too much to bear; especially since I was just as equally undressed as he was. Thankfully I still had my bra and panties on, but in the grand scheme of things it offered little comfort.
Gripping the side of the mattress, I gradually inched my way toward the edge, hoping like hell that the movement didn't disturb him. I had almost made it off the bed when his eyes fluttered open. I let out an undignified yelp and clutched the sheet tightly against my chest.
"Shepard?" he asked groggily. "What're you doing here?"
He must have read the fear on my panic-stricken face, because he propped himself on his elbow and slowly scanned the room. I watched in agonizing silence as realization dawned on him that he wasn't in the main battery on the Normandy. Finally, he centered his gaze on me, the ridge of his brow creasing into a deep, puzzled frown. "Where are we?"
"My apartment," I replied. The answer came out as a squeak, which was completely unlike the usual, confident tone I always used when speaking. Of course, Garrus immediately picked up on it.
"What happened last night?"
"You mean you don't remember, either?"
He shook his head. "No. Everything's a blur."
"Yeah, me too."
"Did we…?"
"I don't know." I didn't know if such a thing was even possible between turians and humans. I didn't want to know. All I wanted was to be somewhere else. Anywhere else. Maybe if I closed my eyes I could convince myself it was all a dream.
The scene before me didn't change, however, and presently I became aware that we would eventually have to get up and get dressed. That meant leaving the bed and the security of my sheet.
Shit.
"Close your eyes," I demanded.
"Why? It's not like I didn't see everything last night," he said, making a show of craning his neck like he was trying to get a better look. "I probably got an eyeful."
"And thank god you can't remember!" I shouted, hurling a pillow at him. It hit him square in the face and he tossed it aside with an amused chuckle. "Close your damn eyes now, Vakarian!"
He laughed again, silently this time, and complied.
"I'm glad you think this is funny," I muttered as I wrapped the sheet around my body and slid off the bed.
Shuffling as fast as I could go, I bee-lined toward the closet and locked myself inside. Fortunately, I had the foresight to pack a few sets of civvies before I left the Normandy on shore leave, and quickly pulled on a pair of comfortable jeans and my favorite black tee shirt. It was snug, but broken in, and fit nicely in all the right places.
Garrus had taken advantage of my absence and was now standing by the side of the bed in the clothes he'd been wearing last night. The light gray complemented his skin tone and the dark blue stripe running down the front of his shirt and along the outer seams of his pants matched the color of his eyes perfectly. He turned when he heard the closet door slide open and we stared at each other awkwardly, unsure of what to do or say next.
"Um…so what do we do now?" he eventually asked.
"Now we go downstairs. Hopefully Anderson has some coffee hiding around here somewhere," I replied, hoping if I downplayed the situation it would ease some of the awful tension that had risen up between us. "Then we'll see about tracking down the rest of the crew. Maybe they can shed some light on what happened."
He nodded and followed me out of the bedroom.
I still couldn't believe that Anderson had gifted his apartment to me. It seemed unfair to have it at my disposal while he was on Earth fighting off masses of reapers.
Apartment seemed like such an inadequate word compared to the sprawling space spread out before me. It was a word more suited to the cramped places I'd encountered on Omega. This was more like a penthouse. No expense had been spared in its design or decoration. Located just off the Silver Sun Strip on the Citadel, the two-story apartment had three bedrooms and just as many bathrooms, and boasted extravagances such as waterfalls, two giant fireplaces, a grand piano, slate rock walls, lush green foliage, custom cabinetry—the list seemed to go on forever.
We reached the landing and headed toward the set of stairs directly in front of us. The two living rooms below were completely empty, immediately eliminating the idea that the rest of the Normandy crew had retired here after returning from the bar, and along with it any hope that maybe Garrus had been so drunk that he'd stumbled into and passed out in the wrong bed by mistake. Not a couch cushion was out of place, which told me that we were alone when we came back here.
The pounding in my head was a not-so-subtle reminder of why I couldn't remember anything, and with a heavy sigh I trudged into the kitchen. Garrus sat down at the island, placing his elbows counter, and watched as I rummaged through the cupboards in search of coffee. I found a canister stashed way in the back and uttered a small prayer of gratitude before I scooped a copious amount of grounds into the coffee maker.
All the while I could feel Garrus' eyes on me. A lump slowly crept up and settled in the base of my throat. What did you say to someone the morning after the night you couldn't remember? Suddenly our friendship felt strained. I'd never thought of him as anything more than a friend, and as far as I knew he felt the same way. We knew everything about each other, had been close since he'd first come aboard the SR-1. Out of everyone on my crew, he was the one I trusted most. To consider him romantically—obvious racial differences notwithstanding—just felt weird. I couldn't even imagine what was going through his head right now.
A few minutes later the kitchen was filled with the delicious aroma of my favorite vice. I poured myself a generous cup, inhaling the scent as the steam wafted up toward my nose. Taking a tentative first sip, I closed my eyes and let the scalding hot liquid course down my throat. Feeling slightly more equipped to handle our current situation, I turned partner in crime.
"Ready to contact the Normandy and find out what the hell's going on?" I asked, deliberately trying to keep my tone light.
"Oh yeah," Garrus replied. "The sooner we get back to the ship, the sooner I can get rid of this hangover. That is, unless you've got the turian equivalent hiding in there somewhere," he said, pointing to my cup.
"Shit, Garrus. I didn't even think…," I stammered, glancing down at my coffee sheepishly. "I was lucky to find this…I haven't stocked the apartment yet. I'm sorry."
He laughed. "It's okay, Shepard. It's not like we planned this."
I smiled weakly. "Right."
Queueing up my omni-tool before things got any more uncomfortable, I put in a call to the Normandy.
"Shepard to Normandy. Come in."
A few minutes went by, but no answer came.
"Shepard to Normandy," I repeated. "Joker, do you copy?"
Frowning, I shifted my gaze to Garrus. He simply shrugged, looking just as confused as I was.
Several more minutes passed, but the comm remained strangely silent.
"Garrus?" I finally said. "This is too weird. What is going on?"
Ever the detective, he replied. "I have no idea, Shepard, but we're going to find out. What's the last thing you remember about last night?"
Scrunching my lips together in thought I took a seat next to him. "Well, I gave the crew seventy-two hours of shore leave. Most of us went to the club."
"That's right," he agreed. "What was its name? Oh yeah. Escapades."
"Yeah. We were drinking." Obviously. "And dancing."
"I suggest we go back. Retrace our steps. Maybe somebody there saw us last night and can tell us what happened. Maybe we'll even run into some of the other crew members along the way."
"Now you're thinking." I downed the rest of my coffee and slammed the cup on the counter. "Let's go."
"I'm right behind you."