Claimer: I own Mass Effect.
Hey.
Joker felt a hand on his shoulder and turned around, seeing Shepard's grey eyes smiling down at him. She had startled him out of a reverie.
Hey,
He said, trying to play it cool. Ever since he'd realized the extent of his feelings toward Shepard, it had been increasingly difficult to be around her. It was like he forgot how to function under her cool gaze, like all of his bones had turned to jello. Well, that wasn't too far out of the ordinary. But his inability to form complete sentences in her presence was.
She didn't take her hand from his shoulder as she moved to face him, until she leaned back against the Normandy. An electric spark seemed to keep them connected for the blink of an eye, and then her touch was gone. Joker watched her pale hand slowly recede to the dark crook of her elbow as she folded her arms across her chest.
Jeff, you ok?
Shepard asked, clearly noticing his removed attitude. Joker shook himself, trying to be lighthearted and funny. The token funny guy.
I'm fine.
He lied, avoiding her clear gaze and staring out the window at the universe whizzing by. He felt a hand on his cheek, pulling his face back toward hers. Their eyes locked and Joker felt like he was flying. Well, he was flying, but he felt like—for once – he was not the pilot.
You just don't get it, do you?
She asked, sadly, her white fingers absently lingering on his cheek. He closed his eyes, wishing her touch would stay.
Can you really….. have no feelings towards me whatsoever?
Joker opened his eyes. What did she just say?
All these years, I've waited for you to notice me, but you always seemed too busy cracking jokes, or hitting on Yeomen… hell, I figured saving the galaxy twice would be enough to make you notice me, but you'll never feel that way for me, will you?
Joker gaped at the commander.
Sorry for bothering you. I just… I wanted to get that out before we began the mission. In case… In case something happens.
She turned to go.
Commander?
She turned. His eyes said it all. He saw her eyebrows crinkle gently as her face moved uncertainly towards his. A pause and then their lips met gently, his jaw bruising slightly at her touch, the glorious pain filling him with joy.
She kissed him deeper, loosening several of his teeth. He could feel his nose begin to swell where her strong cheekbone pushed into it, creating tiny fractures. The pain thrilled his every fragile bone (and some that weren't so fragile) with the knowledge that this was finally happening, that all his dreams, all his sad fantasies, were coming true.
Shepard's kisses deepened and she sank down onto his lap, hands exploring his body as though it were the surface of Virmire. He stroked her dark hair, losing himself in the beautiful agony of loving her. She moved to straddle him, pulling off his shirt at the same time (and dislocating his shoulder in the process), and accidentally bumped the lightswitch, temporarily plunging the cockpit into darkness. Almost immediately, EDI's fluorescent glow appeared, bringing cabin lights back to full and saying,
Jeff, I think it's wise if all extra-itinerary activities-
Shut UP, EDI.
Joker growled, punching the AI's off-button with more force than necessary. He could feel his knuckles start to swell with the miniscule fractures his outburst had caused. He was brought very suddenly to attention (in more ways than one) by the commander ripping her shirt off, before returning to her careful, though frenzied, exploration of his naked torso. Her mouth found his again, forcing his head back into his pilot seat. He was suddenly very glad for the absurd amount of padding that had been installed in the seat in the latest ship upgrades.
The two layers of fabric separating them seemed to have lit on fire; Shepard's desire blazed on her fingertips as she struggled with his trousers. Losing patience, she pulled out her phaser (setting it carefully to only blast fabric) and pointed it directly at his …. Normandy. Before he could protest, the yelp already in his throat, she had vaporized the fabric on his hips and thighs, leaving the leftover scraps to pool around his boots. He retaliated, seizing the gun from her (dislocating several metatarsals in the process) and disrobing her entirely.
She squealed in pleasure and jumped on top of him, thrusting his throbbing member inside of her, her screams of exultation harmonizing with his agonized shriek. Unwittingly, she had shattered his hips and, as she grinded up and down on him, his screams turned to sobs as his ribs and collarbone beat a snare of fractures. An excruciating drum line, the percussion of death.
Shepard finished, crying her ecstasy into the hallways for all the crew to hear, as Joker lay panting in his own blood and crushed bones. It was so worth it. Shepard climbed off of him, realizing with horror what she had done.
Oh, Joker!
It's okay, Commander. I'll just let the autopilot take over for a few days while I recover in the med-bay.
If we have an autopilot, why do we keep you around?
Joker saluted, and not with his hands.
Oh, that's why.