We both quietly chuckle, nervous about the lockdown. Soft reassurances and a few wry smiles pass between us. Your hand reaches to help me get up off the floor; to anyone who happens to walk by, it just looks like you're helping me up. We know better, though. The tension crackling between us is obvious. I shouldn't reach to take your hand, but before I can stop it your fingers have already linked with mine.
Why am I drawn to you? If I look at it objectively, you're just another guy. Another soldier. Biotic, sure; but still just a marine like me. Decent number of commendations, pretty friendly, good with a gun… nothing special.
Heh. Nothing special. Well, that's just one big lie, now isn't it? If you were nothing special, I'd have no problem not staring at you every time you're looking at something else. If you were nothing special, the touch of your hand just now wouldn't have sent thrilled shocks down my spine and taken my breath away.
We've only known each other for a couple of months. It's been absolutely insane, but still only a couple of months. You help me stand by pulling my right hand, because you know that my left elbow is weak from a knife wound. Why do you know everything about me? I can't begin to count the hours we've wasted away quietly laughing and talking. I've never told anyone about my teen years before; not only do they still hurt a little to remember, but I did some stupid things back then. Somehow I knew you wouldn't judge me for them, though. I knew I could trust you.
Our eyes finally meet as I stand. In the dim lighting of the storage area, your warm brown gaze looks darker, maybe even…tender? Either way, I can't tear myself from it. Do you know you're not even my type? Quiet, understanding, biotic, dark hair, excessive migraines…you're pretty much the exact opposite of what I chased after all these years. Then again, I've never really chased after anything short of my career. Ugh! My career.
Why am I even considering this? I'm Commander Shepard: first human Spectre, hero of the Skyllian Blitz, one of the most decorated women my age – ever. I have a career, a promising one full of a lot of promotions. Despite all this, I can't help myself around you. Even though we just promised to work out our feelings when this was all over, our bodies press closer together. I can feel your breath against my face as the overpowering mint of your regulation toothpaste caresses my lips.
Normally I hate the regulation toothpaste; my usual hatred isn't processing. All my mind can focus on is just how much I want my lips pressing against yours. To break all the rules, throw regs out the airlock, and give in just this once. I doubt you'd stop me. I know you wouldn't stop me.
Lids start to slide shut, blocking out the brown eyes I can't stop staring into. You aren't going to stop me…or maybe I'm not going to stop you? It doesn't matter. Once our lips touch, it's all over for me. Heh, there's another big lie. I've been a lost cause for at least a few weeks now. You've got me into the habit of lying to myself. Well, no more lying. My own eyes start to close, heartbeat pounding in my ears.
"Sorry to interrupt, Commander."
Joker's voice booms over the speakers. I instinctively take a step back, stare at you in shock. What was I doing? Trying to kiss you right out in the open where any crewmember can walk by? Damn it. I've got it worse than I thought. Your eyes tell a similar story as they sweep across the hallway. When they slide back to mine, I flood with regret. I should've gone for it anyway, or maybe had been a little faster, or –
"Got a message from Captain Anderson."
Damn it all, Joker. I direct the anger up at the loudspeaker. It's his fault we were interrupted, anyway. "Were you spying on us, Joker?" Now you're rubbing the back of your neck. Embarrassment? That's not good. A pang of panic spreads through my thoughts. Are you regretting it? I bite my lower lip as Joker cuts into my thoughts again.
"No, ma'am. Just knew you were on the ship and figured I'd pass the message on. The Captain said to meet him at Flux, that club down in the Wards." "No, ma'am," my ass. You should be thankful you're already crippled, Jeff, or you'd be joining their ranks for this.
The speaker clicks off. We're alone again. Our eyes reconnect and that annoyingly safe, warm, happy feeling settles in the pit of my stomach again. I am so a goner. You smile awkwardly at me and I can already feel my cheeks beginning to heat up.
Your hand reaches to touch my shoulder. It looks professional enough, seeming like nothing more than good friends. Only we notice the split second your fingers worm their way to brush against the skin exposed near my collar. I suddenly forget how to breathe; my mind immediately begins to plot out where it wants your fingers to slide next. The suddenly warm, loving smile you send my way is nearly my undoing. If I didn't have bones, I'd have melted to the floor by now.
"Well, I guess you better go, then."
Go. Yes. Go. Go to the club. I should go. I nod slowly and your fingers slide from my shoulder, down my arm, back to your side. That smile again. Oh, god. When did you become so good at that? There's something about the way your eyes are shining that throws me into a spin. I haven't felt this alive in my entire life. All I manage to force myself to say is a soft, "I…"
I'm not one to be easily brought to speechlessness and you know it. Oh, now you're blushing. Good grief, I never thought I'd find a blushing man so attractive. Your eyes shoot to the side and you start to shuffle to the mess. A small part of me dies until you look back.
An unspoken promise passes between us before you walk through the door.
Later.