Digressions on James

James' opening sentence is 'James was starting to worry.' Thanks to cymraeg over at Archive of Our Own for this prompt.

Flirting

James was starting to worry. So far, he'd done 100 chin ups without his shirt on, worked on his punching bag for 30 minutes and done 50 push ups in a row. Combine that with the requisite grunting and sweating, and Cortez's gaze should have been glued to him like Sparks' suit clung to her curvy behind.

But no. He was working on the Kodiak, calmly minding his own business, and James was out of ideas to get his attention.

He could just go over and talk to the man, of course, but a friendly 'hi, how are ya?' was the last thing on his mind. Now that Steve had finally said goodbye to Robert, James had decided to make his move. Before, he hadn't wanted to tread on any toes, aware that the wound of losing his husband ran deep… but since Shepard had nudged him out of his grief, Steve had been a lot more fun to work with, more eager to share a beer at the end of the shift, more willing to chat and joke around.

Now, if he could just get the man to stop looking at him like he was a model in a magazine, and start looking at him like he was a real live man, here, now. A real live sweaty man with a semi-erection. Because he just loved that look of firm concentration on Steve's face. Loved the way his voice rumbled like smooth velvet. Loved watching those hands as they gripped his tools, imagining them on his own body-

"Something you need, Mr. Vega?" Steve asked suddenly, and James realised he had been staring at the man for the last few minutes.

"Uh, no," he said quickly, pulling his shirt back on. "Just trying to remember which guns needed maintenance, that's all."

"Shepard's Widow needs some attention," Steve reminded him. "And then the Spike Thrower needs cleaning. Shepard really gave it a work out on that last mission."

"How'd you like to give me a work out?" James murmured under his breath. Maybe he should just tell Steve how he felt, he thought, as he headed for the weapons bench and started dismantling the Widow. But truth be told, he was well out of practice at flirting, and had always been just a touch too shy to make a real go of it anyway. Okay, he had no problem with his own body image, but for most of his life, he'd been on the receiving end of attention. He'd never had to work particularly hard at getting someone else's.

Maybe he should buy Steve a gift? Too obvious, maybe? He could invite him out for a drink, but they often drank together anyway. No, he needed something that would stand out, make him take notice…

"Oh, by the way," Steve called to him from across the shuttle bay, "Garrus said a bunch of the crew are heading out to Purgatory tonight. You interested in coming?"

"Hell yeah," James agreed eagerly. The club had a pulsing life to it that got right into his veins. And he was more than interested in the other type of coming, too, though he didn't say so out loud…

Hours later, James watched as Steve drained his glass, watching his throat swallow, the long, graceful line of his neck, those lips around the glass… and he imagined Steve swallowing around something else, those lips put to work on something far more pleasurable than a drinking vessel.

"Dance with me?" he asked, the words out before he had even realised he had spoken, and Steve looked surprised. As did Joker and Garrus. EDI, as usual, was oblivious to the undercurrents at the table, while Kaidan and Shepard were too busy being wrapped up in each other to care what James was doing.

"Okay," Steve agreed, though he looked a little confused by the invitation, and James stood up, leading them out onto the dance floor.

"I don't often see you dance," Steve observed, once they were lost amid the writhing bodies and flashing lights.

"I've been known to give it a go," James said defensively. "When the mood takes me."

"So what got you in the mood tonight?" Steve asked, those dark eyes locked on James', and his mouth went dry, speechless as the slight hint of suggestion in Steve's voice registered. Okay, so maybe he had noticed his little show earlier…

"Good music," James answered, then dared himself to say more. "Good company. And a reminder that this war could kill us all, so we shouldn't let time just slip away."

"Good company, huh?"

"Good friends," James clarified, wondering how to steer the conversation into more intimate waters.

"Just friends?"

James stopped dancing, seeing the hint of hopefulness in Steve's eyes, the tiny glance that slid down to James' mouth, before righting itself.

"Could be more than friends," he said, feeling breathless and lightheaded. Steve had stopped dancing too, and the two of them stared at each other for what seemed like an hour.

And then James stepped forward, tugged Steve closer, leaned in and kissed him.

"I thought you'd never ask," Steve said, when James pulled back, that voice like velvet, a seductive purr in James' ears.

"Just liked making you wait," James said with a grin. "Make sure you know what you've been missing out on."