Well, I was highly sad to discover the huge lack of Mordin/Shepard fics out there! ...Yes, Mordin is said to have next-to-no sex drive, but that is exactly the inspiration for this fic!

I thought it would be amusing for Mordin to get...curious, if you will, and...yeah.

Updates may be slow, college is tiring and time-consuming, but I shall try to be frequent! This is just a prologue, if you will. The other chapters shall be longer and probably more detailed.

...Also, I had serious trouble thinking of a name for Shepard. He was originally Benedict Shepard. Couldn't use that name without thinking of Sherlock. Gilbert still makes me think of Hetalia. I shall forever imagine him as Prussia.

Also, I'm very sick right now. This is just the invention of a very delirious brain. Grammar will not be amazing.

Anyway. Enjoy.

~PJB

~O0O~

It had barely even been a week. Just a week since Shepard had been brought back from the dead after supposedly being dead for two years. Well, two years and twelve days. Why Jacob felt it was relevant to tell him that was beyond his knowledge, but that wasn't the point. Everything was so...new. Weird. Confusing as Hell. It was completely understandable that Shepard would find everything fascinating. It was all new. New technologies that hadn't even existed two years ago, new discoveries, new breakthroughs. And yet, they were not what intrigued Gilbert Shepard the most. Not by a long shot.

"Shepard! What's got you so dreamy over there?" Shepard didn't even notice he had been zoning out. Joker's voice pulled him out of his daydream, which he had apparently had while staring blankly at the wall. Now he had to think of an excuse. The wall was sexy. Yeah, that would work. Totally.

"Just planning when to have my wicked way with this wall." He grinned, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. His hand brushed against the new, deep scars he had gained there during the crash of the first Normandy. It was odd to think that his body had been, quite literally, blown apart and then pieced back together like a damn jigsaw puzzle.

"You always did have odd taste." Garrus chimed in from beside Joker, the Turian equivalent of a grin – a strange spreading of his mandibles – plastered on his face. Shepard, Garrus and Joker had gathered in the mess hall after the rest of the crew had cleared out for the night, purely so they could drink in peace. It had become a tradition, if you will, on the original Normandy. They hadn't actually planned this, Shepard had just told them to gather because Miranda had ordered him not to do it. And he really couldn't stand Miranda.

"And what do you mean by that?" Shepard tried to sound serious, but ended up just sounding even more tipsy than he actually was.

"Well, I couldn't help but notice you spent an awful lot of time alone with Wrex..." His tone said it all. Joker raised his eyebrows and stared incredulously at the Commander.

"We were just sparring and exchanging battle tips! Nothing more!" A blatant lie.

"Alone in your cabin. At night."

"...And your room was right above mine, Commander. No one makes those noises when sparring. Nor do they tell Wrex to 'Give it to me harder you big, lumpy hunk!'" Joker added, smirking as a deep blush crept up Shepard's pale neck. The Commander in question cleared his throat and leant awkwardly against the table. He had truly believed that no one knew about his...meetings with Wrex.

"Spirits, how are you not broken?" Garrus shuddered. He had just unwillingly imagined himself with Wrex. Unpleasant. And wrong. So, so wrong.

"Oh, shut up. Wrex was interesting. I like interesting guys!" As far as Shepard knew, Joker and Garrus were the only two crew members who knew that he was gay. Then again, Miranda knew a disturbing amount about him. He wouldn't have been that shocked if she knew that, too.

"So, you like emotionally messed-up aliens with gross scars covering half of their faces?" Joker turned slowly to Garrus, who choked rather epically upon the mouthful of Turian liquor he had just been sipping at that moment. Shepard laughed, slapping Joker on the arm.

"...I won't say yes, but I will say that Garrus should lock his door when he sleeps." Shepard winked at the Turian, who just sent him an unreadable expression before shuffling slowly away from the Commander. If Turians could blush, Garrus probably was.

"But seriously, is there any guys on the ship that you do actually find attractive?" Inquired Joker.

"Are you coming on to me, Jeff?" Shepard snaked an arm around the pilot's waist, stroking his hand against Joker's thigh. To his surprise, Joker didn't actually move away. He just leant into the touch, shrugging vaguely. Garrus raised an eyebrow ridge, but said nothing.

"Well, that's actually what I was thinking about when I zoned out." Shepard didn't move his arm from Joker, just pretending that the situation was completely normal. Which it actually kind of was for him. Joker nodded, urging him to continue with the explanation.

"That Salarian we picked up a couple of days ago. He's so...odd." Even Shepard didn't entirely comprehend what it was about the doctor that intrigued him so. Shepard had seen plenty of Salarians, and none of them had seemed that peculiar to him. Adorable, and almost painfully huggable (Seriously, on Virmire...Shepard had to desperately hold himself back from just squeezing Kirrahe until he popped.), but nothing new. Mordin was different. Oh, so different. He didn't know if it was the colouration, the scars, the cranial horn, or the sometimes-infuriating incessant babbling, but Shepard just couldn't get his mind away from the Salarian

"Mordin? The one from Omega? He's...yes, odd is certainly one way to put it." Garrus muttered, setting his glass to the side, suddenly quite curious about Shepard's infatuation with the strange Doctor. He crossed his arms across his chest and watched Shepard's embarrassed body language with great enjoyment. He sort of liked it when Shepard showed the human side of himself. ...The human side that apparently had a huge alien fetish. Once this meeting was over, Garrus was going to check the lock on his cabin. Just to make sure.

"Really? So, you go from big, scary and apparently not rough enough in the bedroom, to skinny and pretty damn annoying?" Joker never would manage to wipe the mental image of Gilbert and Wrex from his mind. He also now was picturing Shepard and Garrus. They would make a cute couple. But that wasn't the point, Shepard liking Mordin? What the Fuckbuckets?

"I don't even know. He's just...I think it's the intelligence. He's so smart. I mean, he developed a cure for a damn plague affecting so many people! And then acted like it was nothing new! ...Sexy!" And Shepard didn't even want to start fan-boying over his eyes. Those eyes...they made Shepard almost go slack-jawed with just a glance. And that body...so...flexible...

"Well, he doesn't seem interested in anyone, really. Unless he wants to cut them open. He woke me up the other night just to ask if humans only have one liver. And don't Salarians have, like, no sex drive or something?" Honestly, Joker had told the Doctor that Humans have five livers, but one of them is always infected by a bug called 'the honey monster', and if it escapes, the liver explodes, and that's why people sometimes need liver transplants. Mordin actually seemed to believe him. That would probably come back to bite him in the ass, but it was freaking funny at the time.

"No sex drive, you say?" Joker didn't like it when Shepard used that tone.

"Sounds like a challenge, Commander..." Garrus was doing it, too. Joker inwardly groaned.

"Bet time! I bet that I can make Mordin want me, before the end of this whole 'Defeat-the-collectors' mission!" Shepard stood up abruptly, his arm still holding Joker close, and his step unsteady from the vast amount of alcohol in his system. The Cerberus implants scattered within his body dulled the effects a little, but they had been at it for hours. The large pile of empty beer bottles under the table told it all.

"Okay...what do the losers have to do?" Joker asked cautiously. He knew that Shepard was competitive, and wouldn't take 'no' for an answer.

"You've all met that chef guy who's also the cleaner?" Garrus and Joker nodded in reply.

"The losers, or loser, should I fail, have to hit on him." Garrus and Joker looked at each other, considering the bet. It would be funny to watch Shepard hit on him. Because there was no way Shepard was winning this.

Shepard held out a hand, clasping Garrus' talon in a tight grip. The bet was on. And Shepard never lost. Ever.