"So in between the madness of discovering I have a clone and everything, I didn't have time to ask. Did we have a fight I forgot about?"
Garrus glances up from the couch where he has been lounging. Damn thing is far more comfortable than it looks. Shepard's walking down the stairs, her blonde hair still wet from the shower. There's a sly grin on her face, one that Garrus recognizes as trouble.
She walks over to him and holds out her hand to help him up. With a shake of his head, Garrus declines. After having been awake for more more than thirty hours only to have a four hour nap, he is more than happy to stay on this very comfortable couch and simply never move again. This apartment definitely has some flaws, but he could see he and Shepard being content here.
Placing his hand in hers, Garrus pulls Shepard onto his lap. She lets out a surprised bark of a laugh as she settles herself on top of him, knees on either side of his hips, her bare forearms brushing his neck. "Well?" Shepard asks, arching an eyebrow.
"You lost me, Shepard," Garrus admits, preferring to concentrate on the way her hips are pressing down on his.
"I'm on the outs with my human girlfriend," Shepard says, doing a poor imitation of his voice. She presses her lips to his mouth plates. "Ring any bells?
Garrus flicks out his mandibles in a grin. The highlight of the entire mission, in his opinion, was their trip to the casino, where he actually had some fun. Not every day a turian like him walks the red carpet with someone like Shepard on his arm. She looked absolutely breath taking, with those heels that made her legs look like they went on for days and that smoky eye thing she did.
Even better than the red carpet was making Shepard laugh while he provided ridiculous distractions. Part of him wonders how they didn't get kicked out.
Sliding his hands up her thighs, Garrus says, "I hate to break this to you, Shepard, but one of these days, we're going to have an honest-to-goodness fight." He rests the palm of his hands comfortably on her ass. "Been smooth sailing so far, but one day, that will change."
"A fight, huh?" Shepard says, leaning in close, so her mouth is next to his ear canal. With one hand, she draws circles on the side of the neck. Distractingly. Very distractingly. "Why does it seem like you're looking forward to that?
"Two words, Shepard," Garrus says, letting his voice drop low, the way he knows she likes particularly. "Make-up sex."
Shepard bites her lip and smiles encouragingly. "Make-up sex?"
He runs his talons through her hair. "At some point, we'll have a fight. It will be, according to the vids at least, completely my fault." Taking his hands, he slides his talons into the waistband of her trousers, reveling in her soft skin. "We might want to practice. We could go have some make-up sex right now."
She hums. "Make-up sex without a fight?"
"Consider it motivation for the real fight. You'll remember how great the make-up sex was, get you to forgive me that much faster," Garrus tells her. He leans forward and gently runs his tongue down her neck. She shivers, just like he knew she would.
"Sound pretty sure of yourself, there, Vakarian."
He drops his voice low, to the pitch that always gets a reaction from her. "Damn straight I am. You haven't seen all my moves yet, Shepard."
"Mmm… you're right," Shepard says, her hand stroking beneath his fringe, making him shiver. "Make-up sex is sounding pretty good right about now."
And then Garrus' stomach decides to ruin the mood, letting out a low grumble, reminding him just how hungry he is. He only ate half a ration bar before they took their nap. Shepard, at least, ate two slices of cold pizza for her breakfast.
Shepard pats his stomach with a smirk. "Hold that thought. Let's get you some lunch, big guy," she says. She stands and stares into the kitchen. "I'll have some groceries delivered this afternoon. Levo and dextro. Might be nice to actually use the kitchen."
"I definitely wouldn't mind cooking," Garrus says, thinking of some of the meals he could prepare for himself in the kitchen. A turian gets tried of living on rations and nutrient paste all the time.
She jumps off his lap, holding out her hand. This time, Garrus lets her help him off of the couch. As they walk to the door, Garrus can't help but think they looked like any other normal couple going out on a date. Shepard's blonde hair is pulled back from her face with a headband and she wears a simple pair of trousers with a white shirt tucked in and her leather jacket. He wears just a regular suit, nothing fancy, and neither one of them carries a weapon. Well, one that isn't concealed, anyway.
"What are you in the mood for?" Shepard asks as they walk down the hall, holding hands. "And I swear if you say sushi I will not be responsible for my actions."
Sushi, of course is exactly what Garrus planned on saying. "I know a levo-dextro buffet we can go to."
"Sounds good to me," Shepard says.
"And it's not my fault if they serve sushi."
#
Lunch, by their standards iss a success. Of course, Shepard's standards might be considered unique. Garrus knows Shepard thinks any meal in public when she isn't stopped by the press or a well-wisher or casual admirer to be successful. The restaurant Garrus chose was out of the way and no one seemed to realize who they were, which suited both of them just fine.
On the way back to the apartment, Shepard stops at a furniture kiosk. "Look at this," she says. There's an excitement in her voice as she brings up the interface. She looks up at him and her eyes are bright. "Want to do some shopping?"
The truth is Garrus doesn't care for shopping much. But the last thing he wants to ruin Shepard's mood. "What are you thinking?"
"I've never had an apartment before," she says. "I've always lived in barracks or officer's quarters. Glyph gave me way more money than I'll ever need for the party. Maybe we could spend some of it on furniture."
He slips his arm around her shoulder, reveling in the way she said we. It's such an ordinary activity for a couple to do and for that reason alone, he can't think of any better way to spend an afternoon. With the war, they may never get this chance again, the chance to set up an apartment together and make decisions about plates and silverware that most other couples take for granted. "Let's look at couches," he says. "There has to be a more turian friendly one."
#
By the time they finished, Shepard's bank account must have taken quite the hit. But the worker at the kiosk promised that everything would be ready for delivery tomorrow and even Garrus is willing to admit he can't wait. Will be a heady feeling to watch the apartment transform from Anderson's to theirs.
The hallway leading to the apartment is quiet and as Garrus glances out the windows to see the Strip, Shepard slips her hand into his. "You know," she says slyly, giving his hand a squeeze, "we did just disagree on what sort of shelving to have installed…"
Garrus lets out a low chuckle and pushes Shepard up against the wall, not surprised in the least when she offers no resistance. He leans in close, with his mouth right next to her ear and whispers, "Would you say we… fought about it?"
He doesn't even try to hold back a moan as her hands start caressing his waist. Even through his civvies, he can feel all ten of her fingers doing wicked things. "I like your way of thinking, Garrus," she says with a smirk. "So go ahead and apologize already."
For a moment, Garrus is affronted. This, he blames entirely on Shepard, having moved her hands under his shirt and doing that thing with biotics that he doesn't quite understand, but doesn't even care because it feels so damn good. "The vids, right," Garrus says, nuzzling her neck. "Will you ever forgive me for having better taste than you?"
Shepard throws back her head and laughs, causing Garrus' heart to clench. It's so rare to see her like this these days, to see her smiling and laughing, and not full of anger. They're both so flawed, yet somehow, together, those flaws seem to balance each other out, making a whole that doesn't seem so dark.
"I forgive you," she says teasingly, and Garrus forces himself to stop being maudlin, not when his plates are starting to spread and when Shepard is rolling her hips against his.
"Then I officially declare this fight over," Garrus says, grabbing Shepard's hand. "It is definitely time for some make-up sex."
And as they start to run towards the apartment doors, Garrus is already planning their next fight in his head. It'll probably involve dinner somehow. And then they can fight and make-up all over again. And again.