A/N: Shrios. Pure, fun fluff.
Cross-posted from AO3.
Enjoy!
Dinner was usually a pretty pleasant affair.
Whether it was quiet or a little more boisterous, she loved getting everyone ( or, almost everyone ) together to unwind after a stressful day — and there was definitely no shortage of those.
More often than not it was spent recanting funny stories in between casual conversation, or poking fun at one another. Joker, especially, was fond of the latter, and none were spared.
Valia usual table consisted of Garrus, Joker, Tali, Jacob, and Kasumi. Sometimes, even Miranda, which was always a treat. Sure, while she wasn't too fond of the woman at first, the biotic had really grown on her once she started to loosen up.
And as of late, there had been another notable addition at dinner: Thane.
Not that he usually wasn't there, but that when he was, he usually was seated more away from them rather than closer. Honestly, she wasn't too surprised. From their talks, she had gathered he spent nearly a decade being completely alone, so to suddenly be surrounded by people had to be a bit of an adjustment. Besides, he was always polite and on more than one occasion added in clever quips that had them laughing harder.
Lately, though, he had taken to sitting closer, obviously more at ease than he had been. That was a good sign, a great sign, actually.
But it only furthered her problem. That problem being her stupidly massive crush on the drell that seemed to pop out from nowhere and spiral out of control. Okay, so it didn't come completely out of nowhere, because she had found him attractive — different, but attractive — since the first day. Recognizing he was hot though, was a bit different than thinking that and feeling like some schoolgirl around him.
Which, she wasn't. She was younger than most people expected when they heard Commander Shepard, but she'd been through a shitstorm and somehow managed to live, so that definitely added some years, figuratively speaking. And yet she couldn't keep the butterflies in her stomach at bay whenever he was around, but even moreso when he was explicitly paying attention to her, and her alone.
It reminded her of the tingles she got whenever she had her hair washed at the hairdresser — the pleasant, tingly feeling that spread from her scalp all the way to her toes. Only the tingly sensation didn't stop, and she was massively worried about making a fool of herself for more than a few reasons.
The most pressing being she had no idea if he even remotely liked her that way. Valia hoped, of course. She hoped that was part of why he always seemed to enjoy their talks, was always willing to talk ( or listen ), and seemed to make note of when she didn't stop by when she usually did. But that could've just been some internal drell-clock or something, as precise as his memory.
Honestly though, she had no clue.
Almost everyone else seemed to know about her infatuation with Thane except….well, Thane. Which was good, because he didn't know. But was equally bad because it meant she was prodded with embarrassing questions, looks, or remarks about him from her crew.
Kasumi was the most relentless, though, offering on more than one occasion to rig the elevator when they were in it so they'd be stuck inside.
God, she was sure her face went three different shades of red before she sputtered that it 'wasn't necessary, goddamnit ' and fleeing the area as soon as possible.
Maybe though, just maybe, the thief had been onto something. At least then she'd be forced to do something, instead of sit at dinner, half listening to the conversation and half wanting to crawl out of her skin.
After all, he had taken to sitting the closest to her. Logically, it made sense. The only spot normally open, even before this happened, was to the left of her. So of course he would sit there. There was nothing unusual or odd about it, except for how much it affected her.
On more than one occasion, she could feel Garrus' foot underneath the table, trying to maneuver one of her legs closer to the assassins. He only gave her the turian equivalent of shit-eating grin while she shot him a half-hearted death glare. She was too busy trying not to think about Thane's close proximity to give a proper one.
Still, he was so dead.
Kasumi was going to die first, though. An 'innocent' comment earlier plagued Valia all day, and now with him sitting right there, it was at the forefront of her mind.
Thane has really nice hands.
It hadn't bothered her at first, because, well, he did. Sure, two of his fingers were fused together instead of apart like hers, but that didn't negate the fact that he did have nice hands.
Hands that were probably smooth, even if textured, to the touch.
Hands she might just like to hold— Oh, goddamnit.
If her brother could see her now, he'd be laughing his ass off.
"You? You want to hold someone's hand?"
"Fuck right off, Jonathan. "
For whatever reason, he hated his full name, so she made the conscious effort to use it whenever she could; especially when he was teasing her.
By some small miracle, John was actually doing a small side-operation for the Alliance, otherwise he would have been here, Cerberus ship be damned. She really didn't want him to get arrested though, so it was probably for the best, anyway.
But that was a different one.
The current one was how her fingers kept twitching, and how she could feel the pleasant warmth radiating from the drell, and oh god she just wanted to wrap herself around him and never leave.
His presence alone was generally very soothing when she wasn't questioning her own sanity, so she could only imagine how cozy he would be to just be with. In bed. Or on the couch, Or wherever, really; she didn't care.
"—over a lake of lava!"
Garrus really was a drama queen, wasn't he?
"Oh, come on, that was one time."
The man beside her let loose a low chuckle, head shaking faint, a grin on his lips. One of Thane's hands feel from his cup of tea, and relaxed along the top of his thigh.
Given the height of the table, no one would even know if she did it — just, slide her fingers over his. Or one.
Except, of course, Thane, but no one who would taunt her merciless about it would be any the wiser. Especially with Garrus' animated recount of one of their many wild, Mako tales.
You are Commander Shepard. You are not afraid of holding someone's hand!
Fuck it, she was going to do it. If she got rejected, she'd live with it and move on. What was the worst that could happen, really? He was polite enough that it likely wouldn't be brought up again, and he'd never use that against her.
No was literally the worst possible outcome.
But yes was the best, and that won out in the end.
Today was a good day. The mission went well, no one got injured, everyone was happy and laughing. Maybe it wasn't the most private place, but it wasn't the worst.
Plus, she might lose her nerve later.
Taking in a deep breath, Valia brushed back long, light strands of hair behind her ear, before letting the hand fall down beside her. Cautiously, tentatively, her fingers crawl closer, stopping periodically.
If he's noticed her movement, he doesn't comment, or make any shift away from her reach.
"Besides, it was more like a babbling brook of lava, not a lake. "
Garrus' mandibles flicker in amusement, and a small huff is released. "Right, because that makes it so much better."
Blood is beginning to rush nervously in her veins, her limbs feeling weightless as she does her best to keep breathing like a normal person. Grey eyes flicker away from Garrus for a moment ( who's thinking back Wrex, and all the trouble they'd gotten into ), and shift faintly to Thane from the corner of his eye.
"Of course it does, big guy. "
Though more reserved than her pilot, they're speaking together fluidly, completely relaxed. For a moment, she's just slo glad that he doesn't feel like an outsider than she doesn't notice his hand move.
She's minutely startled to feel smooth scales against her fingertips, but her own fingers respond almost immediately. Her heart may be hammering in her chest, threatening to burst out of her ribs, there's blood rushing in her ears, and she may or may not be blushing ( she doesn't want to know ), but her fingers slot in-between his own, effortlessly.
His hand is warm and comforting, the faint, affectioning brush of his thumb against her hand has her reeling. It was better than she thought it might be, easier than she thought, and far more rewarding — he had met her half way.
They're holding hands, under the table. At dinner. Surrounded by their friends.
When she dares to look at him again, he isn't quite looking at her again, but the corner of his mouth is more upturned than it had been, and her hand is given a gentle, reassuring squeeze.
Neither of their hands move above the table for the remainder of dinner. If anyone else at the table notices this ( she's pretty sure they do, the perceptive bastards ) they are good enough not to say anything.
At least for now, and that's good enough for her.
Today has definitely been a damn good day.