A/N – Bioware's sandbox, I just like to play. Also thanks to Em who still agreed to beta this even after I ruined her life by introducing her to ME. Em you're awesome.
Once Upon a Snowy Day in Canada.
On the plus, and more logical, side, she was sure that that the planet she was stood on wasn't actually trying to kill her.
Which, all things being considered, was a good thing. It certainly did not bode well for humanity if this particular planet was in fact trying to kill her.
On the negative, and slightly less logical, side, it really felt like the planet she was stood on was trying to kill her.
Which, all things being considered, was a bad thing.
It wasn't like she was exactly a stranger to icy death-trap planets. In fact, most of the icy death-trap planets she habitually visited usually had a lot more Geth shooting at her, and a few thresher maws dotted around, just to make it really interesting. This planet had neither, which should have been a plus. But damn, if the icy wind and freezing cold didn't make it feel like this planet had a personal grudge against her.
She gripped the edge of the fur-lined coat she was wearing and wrapped it more securely around herself. She really resented being in such a frozen wasteland without her N7 hardsuit, and damn, if this was the sort of shit that the hardsuit routinely protected her from, then those babies were even better than she'd thought.
As a form of revenge she kicked a nearby rock, which did nothing but send a stabbing, shooting pain through her already-frozen toes.
Bastard planet.
She scowled at the rock as if the pain was somehow its fault. Then she scowled at the broken down sky-car like the pain and the cold and everything was its fault. Which it actually kind of was.
Then she scowled at the half of her companion that she could actually see, the other half being buried somewhere within the bowels of the sky-car's engine. The bastard was giving no sign that he was in any way affected by the cold.
How did he do that?
And why was he so unwilling to share the secret with her?
Honestly, it was like he couldn't even feel the icy wind pulling at the edges of his jacket. Perhaps it was because he was so focused on... on... whatever the hell he was doing in order to fix the sky-car, that he didn't notice so much.
Or maybe it was genetic.
It was probably genetic.
He'd grown up in this icy death-trap after all (well for those first few years anyway, before... yeah). It was probably enough to have gained all the evolutionary benefits.
Well, that was just patently unfair.
"I hate you," she said, without heat (because god only knew there was no bloody heat in this place). His head popped out from the side of the bonnet, one quizzical eyebrow raised.
"Fair enough," he said. "Any particular reason, or just in general?"
"How are you not cold?" she demanded, stamping the ice blocks that must have temporarily replaced her feet. He chuckled, the raspy sound sending a delicious warmth spreading through her chest.
Hey, that worked!
"I'm Canadian." he replied, shutting the bonnet of the sky-car, "We're made with in-built cold resistance."
"Can I borrow some?" she asked, a smile loitering at the corner of her lips. Again, that chuckle, it really worked wonders.
"Sadly no," he replied an answering smirk. "But," he continued, momentarily disappearing behind the sky-car. "The snow can be fun you know."
She opened her mouth to say something along the lines of that she seriously doubted it, but was interrupted by the snowball hitting her smack in the middle of her face. She sputtered, gasping; suddenly somehow impossibly so much colder. Once she'd wiped the residue away she came to the realisation that he was laughing at her.
The bastard was actually laughing at her.
This meant one thing.
Total war.
She immediately dropped into a crouch, scooping up a handful of snow and then vacated her last known position. She popped up at the back of the sky-car, checked her target and launched.
Her missile disintegrated before it was even halfway there.
His hit her, smack in the middle of her chest.
"Damn it," she muttered, ducking back down. Another handful of snow, another missile. This time she took care, scrunching the snow into a tighter ball. She popped up at the same time as he did and this time her missile hit him square in the chest.
"Ha!" she crowed. "Victory is mine!"
He didn't answer; the snowball flying in her direction saying it all for him. It exploded in her hair, sending a shower of snow down the back of her jacket, and forcing her to stand still as the snow, and the cold it brought with it, passed.
When she finally raised her eyes he was grinning at her, a full on grin that covered his entire face. Not that small, shy smile that he always, for some reason, tried to hide. Not the smile that sometimes flashed, all too briefly, across his face when she and Ashley had pushed him enough. A full on, proper grin.
God, that looked good on him.
And she found herself grinning right back.
"Well, now you're just fighting dirty," she informed him categorically, and the grin got impossibly wider.
"Only with you, Shepard," he replied, his voice pitched low. She felt a delicious warmth in the pit of her stomach. "Only with you."
She took a moment, meeting those dark brown eyes with her own and matching his grin with hers. Then she dove for cover and popped up with a new missile prepared. She launched it just as he moved, sending his own snowball in a graceful arc.
His smacked into her arm.
Hers missed him by a mile.
Sloppy Shepard, she told herself, too sloppy. She ducked back down.
Unseen, his voice travelled across the terrain. "Face it, Shepard," he said. "You can't beat a Canadian in a snowball fight."
"And you can't beat Commander Shepard in any kind of fight!" she replied, popping up from behind cover again, missile prepped for launch and... and…
And he was nowhere to be seen.
"What the-OOMPH!"
She found herself flat on her back in the snow with him above her. She had no idea how he was managing to do it, but somehow the cold snow at her back, combined with the heat of his body on her front, was more or less, pretty much, like, the best thing ever.
"I win," he murmured against her lips.
"I really don't think that's been determined yet," she replied. He leant in and kissed her, his lips lingering on hers, giving her a little but not quite enough.
"Yield," he murmured, pulling back, his eyes glittering, flakes of snow in his dark hair, his mouth curved into a positively sinful smirk. She was pretty sure shit like that shouldn't be allowed.
"Never," she (somehow) found the will to say.
He kissed her then, properly, thoroughly, capturing her lips completely and sweeping his tongue into her mouth. She was pretty sure that she had melted into the snow, or maybe that the snow had just melted. She was quickly losing her higher thought processes, but something was surely melting. He pulled back, his eyes still glittering and she decided that that shit was definitely not allowed.
"Shepard," he said, his voice low and raspy. She instantly decided that that shit wasn't allowed either.
She promptly smashed her snowball into his head.
He made a strangled cry in the back of his throat and, just as she was about to cry victory again, he shook his head. The snowflakes in his hair came falling down onto her face.
"Gah!" she sputtered.
He laughed. Then he hopped up and pulled her into his arms, and, god help her, his laugh really was infectious sometimes. She found herself laughing along with him. As the laughter faded, he hugged her tightly. She hugged him just as tightly right back. Happy, just for the moment, that they had the time to spend on a ridiculous, petty, but hilariously fun snowball fight.
"You want to know the best thing about Canada, Shepard?" he murmured into her ear.
"Oh, I'm just dying to know the secret," she replied sarcastically, feeling his puff of laughter against her neck.
"The best thing," he continued. "Is when you're safe and warm at home with someone, listening to the storm outside. It's like... the world can't touch you, you know?"
She didn't, but she looked forward to finding out.
With him.