It started in the hours leading up to the Collector Base, and it wasn't pretty. Why did it need to be, when both people involved fully expected to be dead within the day?
They found each other in the mess hall - completely out of character, but who wasn't? The rest of the squad seemed to have taken a cue from their Commander and were hiding in whatever private spaces they'd claimed, leaving the public areas deserted. It was practically an invitation for the more reclusive members of the group to emerge from isolation to wander the echoing spaces, and somehow they ended up in the center of the ship together. All paths led to the galley, apparently.
They shared the space surprisingly amiably, at least at first. When the convict emerged, blinking, into the open area that tied the crew deck together, she found the loyalist standing over the coffee pot and watching as the last few drops splashed down into the carafe. Ever the perfectionist, she had waited for it to completely finish.
If she were surprised at Jack's appearance just behind her, she certainly didn't show it - upon catching sight of the other woman, she simply took down a second mug and lifted it in offering. Caught in the strange silence that wreathed the ship, the tattooed woman surprised even herself by just nodding.
They retired to the big table, sitting on differing sides of the same corner - not quite next to each other, but too close to mistake for the separation of people who hated each other. Silence reigned for a few moments longer, the two women doctoring and sipping their coffees peacefully.
"I can't have children," Miranda said quietly, out of the blue. Jack just blinked at her, bewildered at the seemingly random choice of topic, and looked at her blankly over the rim of the mug that had paused halfway to her mouth.
"I wasn't certain that I wanted children to begin with," the white-clad woman continued, staring down at the rippling surface of her cooling drink. "But then the choice was taken away from me. I don't even know why I'm telling you this."
Jack just shrugged, breaking her stillness by heaping another spoonful of sugar into her already-sweet black coffee and stirring vigorously. "We're flying head-on into a fucking suicide mission, of course we're gonna act crazy. We'll probably be dead before whatever stupid shit we do makes any difference."
She seemed to remember that she was supposed to be the antagonist at that point, as she threw in a sneer. "Besides, I already hate you so it's not like your fucking sob story is gonna change my opinion of you."
"Oh shut up," Miranda sighed into her cup, not even able to summon the energy for a proper rebuttal. Jack just laughed nastily.
"Getting weak there, precious! C'mon, I'm sure you can do better than that! Where's your fire? 'Go fuck a Collector, Jack!' or maybe the simple and classic 'fuck off' would work for you?"
"Unlike some people," the long-haired woman snapped, her slightly slumped posture straightening perceptibly, "I have language skills sufficient to keep from spouting profanity every second word. If I cared what you thought of me, I would tell you off. I don't care, so I won't bother."
"There you go," the convict chortled, lifting her mug in salute, "That's the Cerberus bitch I know and hate!"
"Sod off," Miranda grumbled, her posture slumping again. She was tired and distracted and in no mood to deal with Jack's intense hatred for everything Cerberus.
"Oh yeah, real creative there, cheerleader. Thanks for throwing some big fucking words my way. Hey," Jack continued before the other woman was forced to produce another weak retort, "Wanna know a secret?"
Miranda wasn't entirely certain how she'd ended up in this position, but it started with Jack's 'secret'.
"I want to fuck you," the tattooed woman had informed her point-blank. "I figure we're gonna die soon, and I'd rather go out after coming a couple times, you feel me?"
Her brain had shut down for a while, and suddenly she was stark naked and pressed face-first against the cold metal of her office wall, another woman's teeth clamping down on the muscle of her shoulder. Jack's body was molded to her side, one leg hooked around her calf. One ink-covered hand was fisted in her hair while the other teased roughly at her entrance - and not the one she'd been expecting, either. She groaned.
"Jack, wait," she managed to gasp out, struggling weakly against the body that pinned her in place. The convict's fingers paused, but didn't pull away, and the teeth slowly loosened their grip on her flesh. Jack murmured roughly in her ear, voice full of mocking amusement.
"What's the matter, bitch? Feeling shy all of a sudden?"
She was, but she was hardly going to admit that in front of a psychopath no matter how good she was feeling at the moment. She struggled to think of how to phrase it – not a difficulty she often had – but in the end couldn't think of anything better than the stark, stumbling truth.
"I've never…" She paused, and Jack took up the thread with a snort.
"What, fucked a woman? I have…it's not too bad." She punctuated the statement with a fresh bite, this time to the other side of Miranda's neck, then continued in that same mocking voice. "Not the first thing I go for, but you and this giant fucking ass of yours…just can't help myself!"
"Not that," snapped the older woman, wiggling her hips as if to escape Jack's ungentle attentions and moaning as her movement only spurred the convict on. "Well, that too but I meant I've never…there."
It was apparently time to spill every last one of her secrets to the last person she'd ever have expected. Jack just laughed unpleasantly and Miranda gritted her teeth – the woman was on her last nerve – and then sucked in a surprised breath when one fingertip pushed slightly inside of her. She held as still as she could, trying not to let on how unexpectedly good it felt.
"Are you fucking serious?," Jack chortled into her ear, pushing and pulling just a little with that one finger, "I mean, the way you slut it up on the daily, I figured you were taking it up the ass every time we pull into port…and probably in between, with that Cerberus puppy who cleans my guns. Or is he too nice for you?"
Miranda opened her mouth, intending to set the other woman straight in no uncertain terms, but all that escaped was a weak moan of protest when the convict pulled out.
"You want more, don't you? Bitch."
At least the blue-eyed woman managed not to cry out when Jack shoved away from her, pushing her harder against the wall in the process. The hand still in her hair prevented her from turning around…and from seeing what the tattooed woman was about to do.
She yelped and jumped and pulled her own hair when the first – biotically enhanced – slap landed across her bare ass.
"Oh yeah," Jack groaned behind her while her brain was still busy trying to process the fact that she'd just been spanked, and by Jack of all people, up against the wall in her own damn quarters. "Look at that ass jiggle. I fucking love it."
To prove her point, she did it again, leaving one perfect red hand print on either side of the XO's ass. Said XO's brain finally kicked into gear, biotics flaring as she forcibly shoved Jack away. Unfortunately, she'd forgotten the fist still intertwined into her thick locks, and she ended up throwing herself halfway across the room too…by her hair.
The two of them flew clean across the room, bouncing off of one of the heavy armchairs to land in an ungainly pile on the floor. The long-haired woman landed on the bottom, of course, and face-down to make matters worse.
Jack, of course, took advantage of the situation. Shifting quickly to straddle Miranda's thighs, she began to laugh – fully belly laughs that irritated the prone woman absolutely to no end.
"Way to get rough, precious! If you wanted to lay down, you coulda just asked – maybe I'd have even let you lay on the nice comfy bed! But I guess if you want it on the floor, I'll have to oblige."
"Jack, dammit, get off of me!" Miranda struggled to push herself up from the floor, but the added weight in an awkward place made it much more difficult.
The convict just laughed again, pushing one hand between the older woman's thighs.
"I may not be much for pussy, but I know how they work. And if this," she cupped the other woman's crotch, wetness smearing her palm, and chuckled snidely when Miranda's hips rolled into her touch. "Is any indication, you fucking love it. But if you really want me to stop…"
She withdrew her hand, wiping it off on the other woman's ass, and stood up. Feet still planted to either side of Miranda's legs, she waited expectantly…and was rewarded.
"Don't stop," came the loyalist's voice, irritated but uncharacteristically small.
"What's that?" Jack called back, voice much louder than it needed to be. Miranda was suddenly glad for the soundproofing that she'd had installed to insulate her room from the goings-on outside. It worked equally well in the other direction.
"Don't stop," she snapped more loudly, keeping her face towards the floor to hide the angry flush that colored her cheeks.
"That's what I fucking thought, bitch. Go bend over the foot of the bed. You better hope I can find your lube, because I am about to devirginize your ass so thoroughly you might not be able to walk when we find the Collectors."