Ren's Disclaimer:
Just a place to offload ideas I'd been hoarding that need to be freed from my brain. I might repurpose these into my ShepardxTraynor fic, "Queen's Gambit Accepted," at a later time. Otherwise, I'm just throwing around jibber jabber because I was in a good/silly/fluffy mood. This will update basically as the ideas come, or as long as I have suggestions rolling in.
Shepard's first name, class and alignment will generally be omitted, though I did toss in the default appearance for her because I like it so much. All other names, likenesses, and location descriptions are copyrighted by Bioware and EA. I'm just borrowing them for shenanigans.
Samantha Traynor yawned deeply, her eyes having trouble focusing. Only the comms specialist's forearms kept her heavy head propped up. Otherwise, she'd undoubtedly have already passed out and started snoring at the small table outside Apollo's Café.
"Late night, Specialist Traynor?" a familiar voice trilled just behind Sam, airy and smug.
"Is it that obvious, Commander?" Samantha tossed back with a groan. "I feel like I got head-butted by a krogan."
Commander Shepard sidled up next to Sam, nudging her affectionately on the shoulder. "I warned you not to do that last shot. Vega takes his free rounds of drinks very seriously. That top-shelf stuff can sneak up on you. Then BAM!"
Jerking upright, Sam flinched away from the Commander's bark right next to her ear. "AHH! Crikey Moses, Shepard!" The specialist's fingers flew to her temple to massage the sudden swimming pain. "It's too bloody early to play Drill Sergeant."
Hm! We'll save that idea for… later.
Classy, Traynor.
An exhale of a laugh, then a contrite "Sorry." Shepard stepped around the table to Sam's line of vision. Shepard's posture was oddly stiff, but Sam couldn't stay focused on that detail through the pounding in her head.
"It's almost noon, Samantha," Shepard reminded Sam, who mentally swore. "I could barely find a breakfast bistro open that still served coffee."
Did she say "coffee?"
Ears perked, Samantha asked hopefully, "But you did find one, right?"
Shepard grinned back smugly. She wiggled her akimbo elbows, hands still hidden behind her back. "This is not just any cup of coffee. But a pointlessly expensive, richly decadent experience of a cup of coffee. I hold in my hand an asari-pressed blend of genetically engineered perfection that promises galactic domination to one lucky enough to drink it."
The Commander presented a tall, steaming tumbler from her left hand. Sam managed to catch a whiff of coffee heaven, her stomach grumbling in anticipation.
"Uh huh," Sam dryly assented. "…You gave them an endorsement, didn't you?"
"'I'm Commander Shepard and this is my favorite insert-business-category-here on the Citadel.'"
"You are positively shameless."
A bigger grin. "Maybe just a little."
Beckoning with both hands, Sam pleaded. "Well? Let's have it then, please. I'm going to be absolutely useless today otherwise without something. And besides, this little visit was your last-minute idea, remember. I was perfectly happy sleeping away my day off to avoid this very hangover."
Ignoring Sam's rant, Shepard announced a little louder. "I also possess, in these very hands, the Citadel's ultimate protein shake. Enough caffeine for a salarian undergrad. Enough omega-3s for an asari commando unit. Enough protein for a krogan doing a Rite. Tasting vaguely of turian sweat, this thick, oddly textured protein shake promises to transform its drinker into a hulking juggernaut of Reaper-crushing glory. If she can survive the taste."
Left hand disappearing behind her back, Shepard instead offered a bulbous glass of bright green sludge. A wide-mouthed straw was stabbed into the center of the concoction, which smelled faintly of fresh mulch.
"Ugh. That sounds awful—ly perfect for you." Sam's voice jumped from a scowl to a singsong when she caught Shepard's glare.
Breakfast is breakfast at this point, yea?
Sam squawked in dismay when that glass, too, disappeared again behind Shepard's back. The redhead cleared her throat.
"Samantha Traynor. I hereby challenge you to a battle of wits."
"For delicious coffee?"
A nod.
"To the death?"
Another nod.
"I accept!" Samantha crowed with delight, settling against her chair back.
What are the odds it's a chess match?
…Right. Shepard is going to wager using your favorite sport. How about 300,000 to one?
A video game, maybe?
A girl can dream.
The Commander's elbows bounced and Sam could hear the faint sound of shuffling. Once they settled, Shepard smiled.
"All right. Which hand has your coffee? The battle of wits has begun. The game ends when you decide and we both drink."
Wrinkling her nose, Sam considered it a moment.
Well, that's not so bad. Technically, she's giving me two to one odds.
Except one of those two chances is drinking beastly protein sludge while you're still sloshed from the night before.
Odds of making pavement pizza should I lose?
Sam's stomach gurgled. A little too good. …Obviously the solution is to win, Traynor. …Or cheat.
Drumming her fingertips on the table, Samantha studied the smug Shepard before her.
Her shoulders were even, giving no indication of either drink. So calculating posture and ratio of drink weight was out.
As if you even know how to do that. You're not that good, Traynor. Also: nerd.
What else? What else what else what else…
The coffee would be easier to smell, but Shepard was at the other end of the table and the Presidium weather was set to ["Mild, no breeze, standard solar temperature"] according to the weather Sam remembered reading this morning. The woman's solid physique allowed for no hint of steam to appear over her broad shoulders, either.
Third option: make the odds better in my favor.
Doesn't that count as cheating?
Shut it. And this counts as "stalling" rather than "cheating."
Are those not the same thing, Traynor?
"It's so simple," Sam announced with a confident smile.
Shepard arched her eyebrows, but smiled back with encouragement. "Oh is it?"
"Of course. It all boils down to how well I know you."
A laugh. "Oh in that case, I should just hand it over then," Shepard smirked sarcastically but remained still.
Damn. I was hoping she'd shift her weight or something.
Keep pressing, Traynor.
Pointing lazily at Shepard's middle, Sam continued, "In your case, how likely are you to put something I want versus what you want in your dominant hand? And how much do you want to make me happy versus make me vomit all over your boots in the middle of the Presidium?"
"Samantha! I'm offended!" Shepard shook her head with mock-dismay. "You make it sound like I deliberately picked something terrible to hurt you. I'm an Alliance marine, oo-rah, and I need lots of calories and energy to keep this body running. No matter the taste. Plus, I spent a lot of credits, even with a discount, on your coffee because it was the best in the Citadel. So I care plenty."
"Just not enough to hand it over."
The Commander grinned. "Of course not. You need to work for it, Traynor. Build character or something."
'Or something,' Sam retorted inwardly.
"So pick a hand already. This isn't analyzing data in the war room, or life or death. This is 'left hand' or 'right hand' and getting on with our day."
A-ha! Not true!
"Everything can be analyzed, Commander," Samantha quipped back. "What do you think I do all day? Increase the odds of our success using data. And analyzing the sources of those data to increase those odds further."
Rolling her eyes, Shepard looked up at the blue sky. "Oh Jesus. This is going to take forever. Get on with it already. My shake is getting warm and your coffee is getting cold. Or vice versa, depending on what you finally pick."
Let's see…
Sam assessed, "A simple Commander would put what she wants in her right hand to keep it close in her dominant hand. So I clearly can't choose your right. But!"
Shepard's mouth flapped opened, but she nodded for Sam to proceed.
"…You might have counted on me making that deduction, since obviously I know your hands quite well…" Shepard's cheeks reddened but she said nothing. "…so I can clearly not choose your left hand either."
"You've decided then?"
"Not even remotely," the comms specialist grinned, feeling the pride of putting on her analytics hat to solve a (rather silly) problem. "You're an Alliance marine who spent most of your life fighting off bandits and Cerberus and other shady shits. Even now, gathering alien allies against the Reapers who always ask for favors… You're used to not being trusted by those around you, so you'd keep what you want close. So I can clearly not trust your right hand."
An appreciative laugh. "Truly you have a dizzying intellect." Sam thought she saw Shepard shift her weight a little, but unfortunately nothing conspicuous.
Shooting Shepard a finger-gun, Sam cackled, "Wait 'til I get going! …where was I?"
The redhead tilted her head and smiled lightly. "Trust."
"Yes, trust. You and I have been together only a few months, yes? Even so, I feel I can trust you completely." It was Sam's turn to blush a little.
With tender realization about how smitten you are over Shepard?
Or because you're using the Girlfriend Card to win a bloody cup of coffee?
…Can't it be both?
"Feeling's mutual," Shepard muttered casually. She blushed a little also while her eyes crinkled at the edges.
"Brilliant." Samantha paused for a moment, actually savoring that fond little acknowledgement. A lazy smiled curled at Shepard's cheeks as well.
Business, Traynor. War. Death. Famine. …Pestilence, probably. Reaper pestilence.
…But she's just so…
Cold coffee, Traynor.
Sam snapped out of it immediately. Right!
"So you could trust me to want to make you happy and not waste something you'd actually bloody appreciate. You'd offer me something I want with your right hand. So I can clearly not choose your left."
The Commander beamed at that deduction. Her elbows noticeably jostled this time as her feet shuffled bashfully.
You're such an arsehole, Traynor. I hope you know that.
I'm aware, thanks.
"When you want to, you can be awfully s—wait." Green eyes narrowed at the specialist, cross but amused. "You're stalling. It won't work."
Sam's hands up innocently. "You'd think that? About moi? I'm just saying: you're a trained N7 bloody Vanguard. You'd want to pound back that awful shake, so I can't pick your trigger hand. But you've come back from the dead, so you're keenly aware of your own mortality. You'd want to savor every moment, and not waste an experience on a joke. So, again, I can't pick your left hand."
An awkward cough sounded behind Samantha, as well as some embarrassed whispering. Apparently their conversation had drawn the attention of some Apollo's Café patrons behind them, but Sam refused to break eye contact with Shepard to see who it was.
A sad headshake and a tsk sound from Shepard. "You're trying to trick me into giving away something, aren't you? That's just low, Sam. And to think I was attracted to how honest and straightforward you were."
"You still are," Sam grinned. "And you've given everything away, actually. I know where my coffee is."
"Oh thank God," Shepard sighed in exasperation. "Make your choice already. Shore leave is almost over."
I will! Samantha grinned.
"I choose—isn't that your friend waving over there? Miranda something?" Sam tilted her head and pointed up the staircase near the apartment complex.
"What? Where?" Shepard turned slightly, exposing her back just a few degrees for Sam to glimpse a steaming coffee cup her right hand.
So. She chose trust.
Also 'living in the moment' by your ridiculous logic.
The Commander quickly jerked back and scowled. She wasn't stupid.
One of the many things I like ever so much about her.
Extending a proud left hand, Samantha chirped, "Right hand, thanks. And could I trouble you for a croissant from Zakera Café while we're out? That would probably go great with coffee."
Shepard sighed deeply, presenting the magnificent cup before Sam.
"Fiiiine. …Close your eyes."
Obliging, Sam arched her eyebrows smugly, parted her lips and waited in darkness. She felt a heavy presence to her left (Hopefully Shepard. If not, start flailing) then heard a scraping sound on the table in front of her. The wonderful coffee smell returned, and Samantha sighed in anticipation.
Suddenly, pressure descended on her mouth as Shepard kissed her. Smiling, Sam deepened the kiss for a moment… before pulling away quickly and opening her eyes.
Ugh!
"Blugh! Shepard! You didn't!" Sam made a gagging noise and pushed her knuckles at her mouth, inside and out, to get rid of the taste. A sticky green sludge coated the back of her hand.
"Turian sweat" was a generous description of whatever that shit is. Blech.
The Commander uttered a deep belly laugh and licked the remaining green liquid off her lips. She took a long, childish sip of her protein shake. Her hair swayed below her ears as she bounced her shoulders with enjoyment. "Perfect start to a day, Traynor. I feel like I can take on the galaxy."
How can she be so infuriating and so adorable?
Oh, you mean like you were attempting earlier, Traynor?
The protein shake foulness lingering in her mouth, and Sam's only solution was the coffee in front of her. Rather than a slow, measured sip of her victory spoils, Sam grasped at the cup in desperation. She sucked down a little of the coffee, then sputtered as it scalded her tongue on the way back out.
At least it wasn't cold?
Annnnd now I can barely taste it, Sam frowned as she attempted a smaller drink. It was still bloodyfantastic; rich with cream, a hint of sweetness, a heady start with a chocolaty finish. It was not, however, the nirvana it should have been through burnt taste buds.
Totally your fault. Wouldn't have gotten a mouthful of turian bollocks if you hadn't been such a tosser, Traynor.
Totally worth it, though.
"How is it?" Shepard asked lightly.
"How much was it?"
Kicking at the ground, Shepard muttered, "Fifteen hundred credits."
Fifteen hun—!
Samantha almost sputtered again, but she held it in. "It's bloody fantastic. Best cup I've ever had." Which, even through her burnt mouth, was actually true. It was pleasantly warming her insides and settling her stomach.
The Commander beamed back and nodded for Sam to get up. "If you can manage to be good, maybe I'll even get you another one someday."
"My hero," Sam teased back as she stood, then followed a step behind Shepard as the woman headed for the Ward stairs. "And I'm always good. Except for now. And last night. And the night before tha—"
The comms specialist stopped dead in her tracks when she saw who was sitting down two tables over. Shepard had continued on, leaving Sam the only one staring back at Diana Allers, EDI and Joker. Diana's grin was nothing short of shit-eating glee, while Joker was sporting exaggerated disgust. EDI only blinked back curiously.
"You two are …really something, Traynor," The reported smirked as she gave a clumsy thumbs up.
"Something stupid," Joker agreed. "Some of us were eating." He pointed behind Samantha, who turned to see a salarian C-Sec agent in shiny gray armor on the veranda. "And you do know you could see everything on the reflection of that guy's uniform, right?" The bearded pilot waved, and Sam could indeed see a tiny distorted Joker wave back.
Oh son of a bitch!
"Winning's winning, Moreau. No matter the process," Sam stuck her tongue out at Joker before she hurried to catch up to Shepard. The Commander was waiting by upper stairwell, looking down at Sam below. Sam waved up at the woman, though she did flash a middle finger at Allers as she sped past.
"Have fun storming the castle, Traynor!" Allers called back. "And by 'castle,' I mean 'Shepard's—'!" Joker clapped a hand over her mouth and muttered something indistinguishable as Sam joined Shepard on the stairs.
Gesturing with her coffee, Sam took another appreciative slurp. Bloody Christ this is delicious. "What's on the docket for the day? Since you have me, I guess I should oblige a woman who buys me breakfast. And hopefully lunch and dinner."
Shepard pushed at Samantha's shoulderblades to direct her toward the elevator. Sam noticed the woman's tongue was green. "I was thinking of catching a cinema in the Wards, then maybe hit up the Strip for some games. Dinner is a surprise."
"You know how much I love analyzing the shit out of surprises," Sam grinned.
"I do indeed." An airy laugh. "What do you think?"
"As you wish, Shepard."
Ren's Note:
I don't honestly know where this came from. (I mean, other than obviously a Princess Bride homage because that movie is awesome) I was just setting up another scene and for some reason this started and I couldn't stop it. It was fun, at least.