Note: Hi there! I havent dabbled with ME2 fanfic in a while but this was done as a dare. I'm a huge Thane/FemShep fan, and when a friend told me that there was no way I could do anything Garrus/FemShep related, I just had to prove her wrong. Also, I am not sure if this is a good title for this fic - it was originally called 'Infuriating Human' but I think that sent the wrong connotations.

Anyhow, please enjoy, and tell me what you think. I love feedback.

Lost in Translation

By Ambrel

"Got a moment?" Her voice made him jump. He'd barely heard the doors slid open before the harsh clack-clack of her boots on the corrugated metal floor gave him the barest warning that she was invading his domain.

Garrus's claws flexed against the control panel. "Shepard." He stalled. Half-developed thoughts flickered through his mind. Most of them meandered through the territory of uncomfortably familiar, while others zoomed straight into the vast void of 'incredibly inappropriate'. All of them had to do with that woman. That infuriating human.

Silence loomed. He glanced over his shoulder and saw that she was watching him steadily. He cleared his throat with a low buzz and angled away from the panel in order to get a better view of her. "Can I help you?"

"Yes, Garrus. I was coming by to check up on you and to see how the new Thanix Cannon installation was going. Thane told me that there might be some compatibility parameters that need attention." Shepard walked forward to stare at the schematics that were displayed at his terminal. She crossed her arms beneath her breasts, standing in such a way that made her hip jut to the side and her back curve in what was almost a dangerous fashion, to Garrus's eyes. Why would a species evolve in such a way? Soft exteriors and flexible skeletons seemed like they'd only lend themselves to grevious injury. When she swiveled her head to regard him, he found himself caught by her strange eyes. "It looks like things are going smoothly here, but let me know if you have any problems, alright? I want to make certain everything is ready for our final assault. Garrus? Is there something on my face?" That last comment had a strange lilt and her eyebrows writhed across her forehead to settle another expression on her countenance.

Garrus hadn't spent much time among other humans, but he's come to read the Commander's facial expressions with some degree of success. This one meant confusion. Or perhaps curiosity. Garrus cocked his head and clicked his mandibles against his jaws in a nervous manner. "Ah, no, Shepard. I'm just a little preoccupied, is all."

"Need to talk?"

Again her face rearranged itself. Curiosity retreated as her eyebrows lowered. Her eyes became more narrow, though not in a threatening way. Her head angled slightly to her right as faint wrinkles appeared in her forehead. Her lips were parted, showing her white teeth. What was this expression?

Garrus stared for a split second longer than he should have before shuffling backwards to lean against the rail. "Not really. I'm probably just spending too much time cooped up in the battery."

"That's a bullshit excuse if I've ever heard one, Vakarian." Shepard snorted. "I've known you too long to let the brush-off work on me. Spill."

The Turien sighed and glanced sidelong at her. "What if I told you I didn't want to?"

"I'd get it out of you anyway."

"Let's just say I'm worried, Shepard." He replied, shifting his weight. "It's not like we've really done something like this before."

Shepard barked a laugh and reached over to grasp his shoulder. "Is that so? I'm fairly certain we have saved the galaxy at least once."

Garrus glanced at her hand. Even through his armor, he could feel the strength of her grip, soft and pliant as she was. How strange that strength could be found in a being whose bodies went unprotected.

He must have stared at her hand too long. She suddenly released him and drew her hand back. Her expression had changed again. This time it was a drawing of the brows, a downward cast of the eyes. Her lips pressed together.

It was new. Not one he'd seen her make before. Despite himself, he stepped forward. "Uh-huh. How about you, Shepard?"

"What about me?" Defensive tone. He knew that vocal lean, though he'd not heard it in quite a long time.

Garrus shrugged. "No reason. I thought that perhaps you had something on your mind."

She paused, then ran her fingers through her hair. His eyes followed, watching the individual strands fall in disarray. Fascinating. Before he could help himself, he asked, "Why does it do that?"

"Why does what do…what?" She asked, confused.

He reached out and poked clumsily at the top of her head. One of the strands caught on his claws and he rubbed it between digits, curiosity evident by the slant of his mandibles. "It just…goes everywhere."

"Um… it's hair." She said, as though that explained everything. Her voice sounded tight. When Garrus looked at her, he found her odd multicolored eyes fixed on his face. White and blue. Sclera and iris. Weird.

She was standing still. Very still. The muscles in her jaw worked, sending rhythmic ripples through her cheeks. Garrus blinked, then slowly let the hair go. "Uh, sorry about that."

"No. It's alright, Garrus." She was staring intently at his face. His eyes, to be exact. In a strange way, he found it to be disconcerting. And somehow exciting, too.

He stepped back, suddenly uncomfortable. He tapped his claws against the railing. Tinny notes filled the small space, muted in the face of the oppressive hum of the battery. "Yeah, well, I don't always have a good grasp of what crosses the line for you humans."

Shepard let a tense laugh pass her lips. She sat on the crates that occupied the corner of the room. "You, worried about etiquette?" She asked, "Since when?"

He found himself looking everywhere but at the commander. After a moment, he turned back to the computer, flicking through a few different screens without really seeing them. "You know me," he muttered at the power readings. "I need to know what to do to best offend people. It's a skill. Comes with hard work."

"I guess you'll just have to work harder, then," she said.

He didn't answer. Instead, his hands began entering a string of calibration commands independent of his mind. He could probably do this in his sleep.

Several moments passed. Eventually, Shepard stood from her customary spot and sighed. He heard her boots on the floor again and knew that she stood right behind his right shoulder. "You know," she said with a hint of resignation. "You Turiens are hard to read."

His jaw relaxed into a smile that tugged at his scars. "Is that so?"

"Yes. In fact, I think you might merit a bit more study."

"Am I to be a…what do you humans call it? 'Guinea pig'?"

She chuckled, then rested a hand on his shoulder again. Soft and light, with just enough pressure to make its presence known. "Maybe." She replied.

"I'm stuck here working on your big guns. That means you'll have to come hide away in here to study a Turien in his natural habitat."

The hand left his shoulder. The door opened behind him as she turned to it. "I could think of worse ways to spend my time."

A hiss of compressed air and whine of motors was all that signaled her passing. Garrus shook his head and sighed, watching the power levels fluctuate slowly before him.

Infuriating human.