Disclaimer: I own nothing, I make no money.

Author's Note: This is a birthday gift fic to the wonderful, lovely, inspiring Vorcha Girl.

Mercurial

"'Hey, Lola?' 'Hmm?' 'Marry me.' Shepard lifted a brow his way and leveled him with a piqued look. 'No.'" - In the midst of the Reaper War, James Vega proposes to Shepard, unsuccessfully. Thus begins his wooing of the commander in earnest.

Ensigns Parker and Rajim were married. It was a simple ceremony that Shepard presided over in the middle of the seven hour journey to the Quarian fleet. Everyone who was not on duty attended, and the small crowd of joyous crewmen moved the celebration to the port observation lounge, where, unfortunately, Shepard had to declare alcohol off limits. But the celebration could not be dimmed. The galaxy was going to hell around them but this – this was still theirs.

Love. And the assurance of that love in the people around them.

Conducting weddings was secretly always Bree Shepard's favorite duty and honor. She stood now at the edge of the lounge, watching the happy couple receive congratulations. Her arms were crossed over her chest, her hip cocked out, a genuine smile gracing her lips. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a bun and her dress blues were crisp and immaculate. Nothing but the best for a Normandy wedding.

James sidled up beside her, nudging her elbow with his and nodding to the newlyweds with a scandalous smile. "Going to offer up your quarters for the wedding night, Lola?" He waggled his eyebrows at her.

Shepard rolled her eyes, but her smile stayed put. "I've done my part. Sorry, but it's the sleeper pods for them."

"Ah, come on," he goaded good-naturedly, nudging her again. "You're no fun."

She shot him a look of exasperation as she jostled from the playful shove. Bracing her feet more surely, Shepard cocked a brow his way. "And what have you done for the happy couple, hmm? Don't tell me you offered them your barbell?"

James laughed, and it was warm and easy between them. "And have nothing to keep up this fine physique?" he teased, one hand coming up to brace along his chest in mock shock. "Never."

Shepard shared his grin for a moment.

"I got them a night's stay at Azure," he said, shrugging as he looked back to the mingling crowd.

Shepard snorted in a mix of amusement and incredulity, bringing her hand to brace against her forehead. "Only you, James."

He beamed at her.

They shared a moment of content silence beside each other, simply watching their fellow crewmates exchange giddy conversation and excitedly sharing stories of the newly married couple. The war was suddenly very far away. Reapers could not touch this. The Normandy and the souls aboard her were a world unto themselves for these scarce, precious hours. Everything was right with the world.

"Hey, Lola?"

"Hmm?"

"Marry me."

Shepard lifted a brow his way and leveled him with a piqued look. "No."

Well, it took her all of .003 seconds of decision-making to come up with that one.

James huffed, his arms crossing back over his chest, but the musing, petulant expression on his face kept the smirk along her lips. "I'd be a great husband," he pointed out.

They kept their faces to the laughing crowd before them. "I have no doubt," she answered.

"And I bet you're not too shabby in a wedding dress."

"Oh, your flattery game is just on point today, Lieutenant." Shepard made the 'okay' sign with her hand and winked at him from the side, her smirk widening.

James scratched his cheek. "And I love you." He pocketed his hands, his lips pressing together as his eyes followed the newlyweds.

Shepard considered him for a moment. "I love you, too," she assured.

James narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips, finally cocking his head toward her. "So the problem is…?" he asked expectantly.

Shepard shrugged, her fingers thrumming along her arm. "You're asking me on a whim. It's all the excitement and eagerness that this wedding has brought up. You haven't really thought about it."

"Of course I have," he said indignantly. "Haven't you?"

Shepard rolled her tongue and waited a moment. "It just doesn't seem practical right now."

"Feelings aren't supposed to be practical," he urged, turning fully to her. "Get too rational about 'em and you get dangerous."

She wouldn't deny him that. "We're fine as we are, James. Why rock the boat?"

"Maybe because I don't want this boat," he muttered.

Shepard turned an amused smile his way, brows raised.

Rolling his eyes and rubbing the back of his neck, James sighed. "I mean, this boat is good and all. It's great really. You're great, the sex is great, the everything is great. The whole boat is great really. Seriously, fine, fine sea-faring vessel we've got here but maybe, I don't know…" James stopped and dropped his hand from the back of his neck, shoulders lifting in a short, self-conscious shrug. "Maybe I don't want a weekend cruise."

Shepard couldn't help the slow, brilliant smile that spread across her lips at his unending use of the 'boat' metaphor. "You're a closet romantic, Vega." She chuckled.

James narrowed his eyes and turned back to the party. He shoved his hands back into his pockets. "You say it like you aren't one yourself."

Shepard sighed and looked out across her crew.

James pressed the toe of his boot into the floor paneling and watched the motion. "I just got to wear you down."

Shepard rolled her eyes, leaning back on one hip. "Maybe I should have approved alcohol," she mumbled.

"You know, we could be having marital sex right now, Lola." James quirked a brow down at her, settling himself between her legs.

Shepard groaned, flopping her head back on her pillow. "Oh my god, James, I'm going to kick you out of this bed, I swear."

James chuckled, nuzzling her neck. "I hear it's a whole other level. Married sex," he intoned, hand sliding over her collarbone and down between the valley of her breasts.

"James, I'm going to hurt you."

He laughed again, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to her neck. She shifted beneath him, her impatient huff of breath cracking a smile across his lips. "Come on, Lola. I always thought you were up for trying new things." He swiped his tongue along her throat and rocked his hips into hers meaningfully.

Shepard near growled and pushed at his shoulder until he lifted up. She pushed herself up and braced her elbows along the bed, watching him with rising vexation. Her smooth blonde hair slid around her shoulders. "Sure, James, new things. How about this move? I'll call it 'James gets concussed."

"You're so violent," he breathed lowly, excitedly. A goofy grin broke across his face. "It's kinda hot."

Shepard narrowed her eyes at him, barely trusting his playful turn.

He brushed her hair from her neck and leaned closer, his cheek pressed to hers. "It'd be even hotter coming from my wife." He barely contained his laugh.

"Alright, that's it," Shepard growled, forcefully pushing him off and attempting to swing her legs over the side of the bed.

His arm around her waist pulled her back and she tumbled down against him. He buried his face in her shoulder, her hair brushing over him, and he locked both arms around her, suddenly stilling.

"Stay," he whispered against her skin.

She stilled atop his chest, her hands falling to his shoulders.

He stayed that way for a long moment, simply breathing against her skin. Slowly, with hidden tenderness, Shepard's hands slid up his face and tangled in his hair. She lowered her mouth to the top of his head. She heaved a sigh against his temple and eased her rigid limbs against him. "Okay," she acquiesced.

His hand slid up her spine and braced along the back of her neck. They moved against each other with a comfort and gentleness that should have been lost in such a brutal time.

"You know, I'm not a huge fan of 'Bree Vega'. Sounds too much like 'breveta'," James mumbled, his nose scrunching up in distaste. He snapped the last clasp on his armor's chestplate and looked up to find Shepard staring at him, her hand stilled over the clasp of her shin guard. She narrowed her eyes at him as she leaned over her knee and locked the guard in place.

Vega took her expression as confusion and decided to clarify. "You know, 'license'? Spanish? La lengua materna?"

Shepard stood slowly and silently, still glaring at him.

Vega shrugged nonchalantly. "I mean really, can you imagine introducing yourself to my abuela? 'Hey, I'm License. Nice to meet you.'" He continued donning his armor in unperturbed thought. "Maybe Bree Shepard-Vega? Yeah. Yeah, that's got a nice ring to it." He smiled brilliantly, reaching over his shoulder to latch the lock on his shoulder guard.

Shepard heaved a sigh and looked to the ceiling.

"Ooh, you know what?" James began excitedly, his gaze cutting to hers in gleeful realization. "'James Shepard'. How do you like that? I think it makes me sound pretty suave, don't you think?" He flipped his imaginary lapel and waggled his eyebrows scandalously at her.

Shepard rubbed a hand down her face and groaned. "I don't even know how to begin feeling about this," she grumbled into her gloved palm.

"I mean, let's be real here," James continued. "Who wouldn't want to take the name 'Shepard'?"

Kaidan walked up to the couple from across the cargo bay, his armor already suited up, his rifle secured along his back holster. He only caught the end of James' question and so eyed the two curiously. "What's…going on here?"

James turned to the Major and offered a confident smile. "Just trying to figure out who's taking whose name."

"There will be no taking of names," Shepard interrupted, swiping her hands through the air as though to signal the end of the discussion.

"But what would we put on the marriage certificate?" James asked, brows furrowing in amused thought.

"Wait," Kaidan started, one hand in the air as though to halt the conversation as he caught up in speed. "You two are getting married?" His blinding grin stretched wide and became infectious.

James smiled back.

Shepard scowled.

One said 'no' at the same time the other said 'yes'.

Shepard shot a dead glare James' way but he only shrugged. "She's still warming up to the thought," he supplied. "But I think she's coming around."

Shepard slammed her forearm guard onto the table beside her and crossed her arms, blowing a stray strand of blonde from her face and cocking a hip out. "Alright, Vega. What the hell. What's so important about getting married?"

James blinked at her and Kaidan shuffled uncomfortably beside the two of them.

James stroked his chin, his eyes glancing skyward in thought. "Well, it just seems natural, doesn't it?" He looked to Kaidan in affirmation.

The Major opened his mouth and then promptly closed it. He glanced between the two. "I mean…is it…what you want?"

Again, one 'no' and one 'yes'.

Kaidan gulped as he saw the slow fury blur into Shepard's features.

James huffed, stepping up close to Shepard so he could grasp her by the arms. "And why not, huh? Give me one good reason why we shouldn't."

"This isn't the time," she snapped, brushing his hands from her and taking a step back.

A taut, uncomfortable silence fell over the trio as Shepard silently fumed, face turned from them. Kaidan took a step back, as though to leave, but James' voice caught his attention.

"Everyone on this ship already knows how I feel about you," the Lieutenant started, shoulders sagging, even as the charming smile flitted across his features. "But that's not enough."

Her shoulders tightened at his statement.

"I want the galaxy to know."

Shepard raised a brow his way, crossing her arms. The quirk of her lip was both teasing and intimidating. "What, that I'm yours?" she scoffed.

James shook his head, his brows angling down in confusion. As though it was a wonder she didn't know. He huffed, his whole body itching with impatience. "No," he corrected, "I want them to know that I am yours."

Shepard glanced up at James, her eyes blinking furiously. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

Kaidan shook his head at the feuding couple and turned to the shuttle for departure. "Can't argue with that, Commander," he said flippantly over his shoulder.

Shepard narrowed her eyes at Kaidan and grumbled "traitor" at his retreating back.

James stood beaming at her. "Well?"

"Well, what?" Shepard snapped, her back going taut. She hated the smirk that found its way to her mouth in the wake of his earnest, eager endeavor. "Get in the fucking shuttle." She nodded her head toward the Kodiak and grabbed her forearm guard from the table, eyes moving to the fastening of its straps so as not to look at his face, that face that made her weak beyond measure.

James pulled a slow, steady breath in and walked past her, barely brushing along her shoulder. His warmth was instant and temporary.

Shepard hated how she craved more.

She grumbled to herself and followed the lieutenant once her armor was all in place.

James tried to lay up in the medical bed but Shepard's hand on his shoulder pushed him back down, roughly, without thought to his injury. He winced at the pain in his ribs and Chakwas tsked above him, her omni-tool waving above his form as her scan computed figures into her nearby terminal.

"Really, Doc, I'm fine," he urged.

Her 'hmph' didn't seem quite so satisfied.

James sighed and leaned back along the bed, relinquishing control to the two indomitable women on either side of him. He closed his eyes and just breathed. Even that hurt.

"Multiple contusions, two broken ribs and a dislocated shoulder," Chakwas rambled off, grabbing an injector from her bench of medical tools and jabbing it into his neck without warning. He choked on his words, the injector darting into his flesh and the cool jet of instant medication flowing out from his neck and down into his limbs. He eased into submission, his whole body light and heavy all at once, buoyant and weighted. The only thing to capture his lingering attention, to affix his blurry sight, was the movement of Shepard's throat as she spoke. He focused on the muscles of her neck and tried to form words on his too-thick tongue.

"Easy, James. We've got you," she whispered above him.

"I know," he answered, easing back into the bed, his eyes waning over the harsh light of the medbay. "You've always had me. Always had my back," he rambled.

She couldn't help the smile that splayed along her lips.

"I don't want anyone else but you," he mumbled, words slurring with the pain meds. His hand raised as though to touch her cheek but the effort seemed to be too much and his arm dropped back down.

Shepard shook her head above him, an incredulous smile finding its way across her face. "Just relax. I'm here."

"I want you always here," he urged, raising slightly from the bed as though to confront her, but Chakwas's hand on his arm urged him back down and he glanced to the dull pain of a needle in his arm. His brows furrowed in confusion. Chakwas withdrew and reached for an omni-projector on the med-bench, and then a laser scalpel.

James gulped at the sight, still very conscious of his surroundings, if not a bit uninhibited. Everything was lifted and immediate and instant. He looked up into Shepard's eyes and everything was suddenly simple. Suddenly easy.

"Marry me," he asked once more, but this time it was more a statement than anything. More a confirmation than a question.

He had always known her heart. But he didn't understand why she couldn't bring the words to air, why she couldn't admit to what her heart had known for months and days and aching, tender moments.

"James," she admonished, her hand reaching for his.

But he was done speaking. He leaned up and claimed her lips with his. An awkward, wet, too-eager kiss. Shepard sucked in a breath against his lips and pulled back.

He fell back against the pillows and saw only her face, framed in too-bright light, nearly translucent, far too ethereal for his touch. His mouth dipped into a frown. "I've only ever wanted you," he urged, face sharpening with his intent.

Shepard's face softened, her silk blonde hair sliding over her cheek. Her amber eyes fixed to his. "Sleep," she said, voice firm.

James opened his mouth as though to speak, but the clouds obscuring his vision kept even her face from his view and then it was darkness pressing in on him.

"Sleep," she said again, voice calm and knowing.

His vision inked black.

Her voice stayed true.

"I'm here."

"I want to be your husband," he urged one night, with her face against his shoulder and his hand along her hip.

She shifted, face turning toward the ceiling, and his grip along her hip only tightened.

Her chuckle was unexpected. "You're exasperating, you know that, don't you?"

He only smirked into her hair. "I know what I want. And I don't ever give it up."

Her fingers pressed along his chest and then rescinded. He missed her touch instantly. "What if…" she began, and then she clamped her mouth over her tongue and silenced the words in her throat.

James shifted against her, one arm sliding around her shoulders as the other held tight to her hip. "What?"

Shepard pulled from him entirely and sat up, legs swinging over the edge of the bed. Her back laid bare to him, her thin, blonde hair spilling across her shoulders. Her hand gripped at the sheet against her chest. "What if this is it? The end?"

He sighed and sat up himself, leaning over her hunched back. He pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder blade. "Then I'll spend it with you."

She glanced over her shoulder and eyed him with caution. "You shouldn't be so casual with your life." Her brows angled down in a sharp descent.

James scoffed, flopping back down on the bed. "I should have died a hundred times over with the way you run missions," he joked.

Shepard pulled in a half-insulted gasp, shifting in the sheets to look back down on him. "It's not my fault you decide to Rambo the shit out of every flanking target. I never taught you that."

"No," he agreed, hand sliding down along her back and settling at the junction of her hip and thigh. "I suppose that one is all me." He grinned cheekily.

Shepard narrowed her eyes at him. "You can't do that anymore," she argued.

He cocked a brow at her. "Oh no?" His grin was annoyingly wide to Shepard.

"No," she reaffirmed, leaning down to brace her arms along his sides. "Because you have something to come back to."

"A wife?"

Shepard stilled, beginning to pull back from him when he caught her wrists and pulled her back down. She yelped and scrambled atop him. They took a breathless, heady moment to watch each other.

When he leaned toward her for a kiss she turned her cheek. They stayed in that position for many moments, James with his mouth pressed fervently and disappointingly along her cheek, and Shepard with her eyes squeezed tight, hands clenched into fists in his grasp.

He released her after a long silence and she slid back into a sitting position, her back to him as he lay along her pillows.

She glanced at him after his unusual silence. His face was turned from hers. "James," she whispered.

"Do you love me?" he asked, eyes turned to the vacant space of her cabin wall.

She swallowed and nodded. "Yes."

"Do you want to be with me? For however long that may be?" Still he kept his gaze along the wall.

She clenched her hands in the sheets. "Yes." She never stuttered.

"And are you ashamed of it?"

At this she stopped, her mouth turned into a deep frown. "Never."

James looked at her.

It was the first time they truly saw each other. Everything passed between them at that moment.

When Shepard leaned back down he didn't resist. And when he pressed his lips toward hers she didn't turn.

They kissed.

It was the most hesitant, aching, terrified kiss they had ever given one another.

Earth beckoned beyond the hull.

That night they only had each other.

They stood beyond the beam to the Citadel, London lying in ruins around them.

James glanced back at Anderson readying the troops behind him. "It's our last chance, Lola," he murmured.

Shepard lifted her gaze to his, but she was too tired to argue, too tired to question. She only sighed. And the sound alone pulled James' attention so tightly that he nearly fumbled while reloading his rifle. Nearly.

"I'm tired, James," she moaned, leaning back on an outcropping of overturned steel wall. Her rifle butt was pressed to the floor, her weight leaning on the barrel as she sagged against the wall.

His face screwed up in frustration. He stepped toward her and she glanced up into his eyes. "Marry me," he repeated, for maybe the fourth, or the fiftieth, or the first time.

Shepard slumped further into the debris. "Why?"

James clenched his jaw tight, the words rolling around his tongue before he brought them to air. "Marry me," he said again, this time with faulty words and a broken voice.

Shepard leaned forward along her rifle and angled her face up toward his. "Why?" she asked once more, her tone demanding and unflinching.

James sighed and dropped himself beside her, his shoulder brushing her. "Because I can't...I can't lose you," he breathed into the dead night air. "And if we're married, if we're tied to each other in some way then maybe...maybe..." He rubbed a hand down his face and blew a hot breath of air through his lips. "I guess I just want the universe to know that I'm not ready to give you up."

Shepard moved her fingers along the barrel of her rifle, leaning against him. The weight of his shoulder against hers was anchoring. Her gaze flickered across the cold, grey earth at their feet and suddenly it all seemed so silly. So pointless. She had been so used to destruction that she had forgotten how to build anything. "I already love you. What more is there?"

James was silent for many moments, listening to the orders shouted out behind him where the Alliance troops were mounting for the final attack. He glanced up toward the beam, the single bright, brilliant light that encompassed their fight, their future, their fervency.

Their shoulders braced against each other, James and Shepard watched the darkened sky split by the single blinding beam. Her hand reached for his. He threaded his gloved fingers through hers. "There is always more, if you're brave enough for it."

Her hand pulled from his, and she wrapped her arms around herself.

James watched her steadily. "Shepard."

She closed her eyes, breathed deep, exhaled into the cold night and pulled her arms tighter around herself.

An eternity passed. Or maybe a minute. Maybe the infinite breath of only a second.

Shepard's eyes flicked open, catching his for a single hesitant instant. "Say my name," she said.

James shuffled closer toward her, leaning against the debris, his touch only a breath from her. "Shepard," he whispered.

She shook her head, her lip caught between her teeth. Her eyes were downcast and wet.

He sucked a sharp breath between his teeth, edging closer. "Bree," he corrected, all the gentleness and ache and desperation that name evoked in him shuddering through him until his skin was vibrant with it.

She shook her head again, this time eyes open, this time staring into his own unblinking eyes. She sniffed loudly and drew a hand across her nose. "No, James," she admonished. The wary chuckle that broke from her lips rattled the air in her lungs. "My name," she urged, hands reaching for his arms, grasping at the cold plates of his armor.

He pressed against her, eyes going wide at the realization. His arms came around her instinctually. She braced her cheek along his shoulder.

"Lola," he breathed against her.

She smiled into him.

"Ask me again," she whispered.

James took several moments to compose himself, his hand shaking as it trailed to her neck, and then into her hair, where it pulled at the hasty bun she had pulled the strands into, her thin, blonde hair falling through his fingers when his grip snapped the elastic of her band.

She failed to admonish him.

London burned around them.

He only had eyes for her.

Shepard pulled back to look at him.

"Lola, will you marry me?" His breath caught in his throat, his eyes never leaving hers.

A sly, mercurial smirk spread across her lips. "Maybe," she teased.

He would have groaned his frustration if he wasn't already kissing her, if he wasn't already pressing his lips to hers so desperately and so tenderly that he might have imagined the sob he swore she heaved against his mouth. He pulled back, and she broke from him to face the beam once more, her hands still gripping desperately to his chestguard.

She swallowed and stilled her eyes against the stagnant, promising beam. "Will you wait for me?" she asked, more broken, more shattered, more fearful than she had ever sounded before.

He didn't need her eyes on his when he answered, didn't need the clutch of her hand along his heart or the sharp intake of her breath when the order came to march.

He only needed her.

She was always his answer.

And it was always yes.