A/N: Whoa! I'm surprise by the positive feedback, guys! THANKS. Yay, reviews. Nova, you will likely get your wish on a dedicated Traynor x Liara story! Also, some exclusive Liara and Shepard will be on the way. Eventually. Now, time for some more shenanigans.
They're in the UT47A-Kodiak, returning from a mission. James is in the front talking with Cortez. Shepard can't figure out if Vega is an awkward bastard or if he's secretly in love with the pilot and doesn't have the balls to say it. Shepard and James have had their share of flirtations—but anytime she presses the issue he turns tail and runs.
Shepard keeps her fingers tightly wrapped around an overhead handle. Liara is seated only a couple of feet from her, jostling only slightly with the rattling the Kodiak does when they hit a particularly difficult air current. She looks too somber and these days is much too quiet, at least in comparison to the chattier woman that she used to be. Another bump and Shepard abandons standing and the handle. There are plenty of seats available but she drops down beside Liara.
The woman has come a long way from who she was when Shepard first met her. The asari commandos are nothing next to her. Shepard has always liked a bit of ass kicking in her partners and Liara is racking up an impressive body count. These days Liara is indifferent and not so easy to blush but Shepard isn't ready to give up just yet. She hardly remembers who decided it was time for them to end their previous relationship.
"If you knew how to fight the way you do these days you'd never have needed a rescue in Therum," Shepard rests her elbows on her knees, leaning forward. Sweat and a trickle of blood still run down her face from the savage fight they'd just had against Cerberus.
"And maybe you would have never caught up to me. The Shadow Broker has many enemies. I've had to pick up a few tricks."
"I like tricks." As much as treats, even. "Any you're willing to share?"
"You already have too many up your sleeve," Liara says with a degree of amusement and consternation. She's still as Shepard wipes a sliver of blood from her cheek. Despite the hordes of asari commandos Shepard has killed off in her day, it still bothers her to see Liara bleeding. "I hadn't noticed," she pushes Shepard's hand away and touches the cut thoughtfully.
"Don't trust me to give you a little first aid?"
"We both know you're better at putting people in casts and shallow graves than lending first aid."
Shepard smiles in agreement and thinks that Liara is still angry at her for their falling out. Shepard might be hurt or frustrated if she'd ever minded a challenge. "Maybe I only wanted to touch you."
"You're being honest for a change," Liara looks at her, smiling faintly. "That's new." Shepard shrugs and leans back into the seat, looking at her. "It's too late for that now."
"Never say never, Liara." Shepard wouldn't mind having a good time with Liara. They're both busy, they both have more important things to do. There's nothing wrong with adults doing something to relax, not when there's enough respect to go around and they all know exactly what it is. "I'm not known for being a quitter."
"And I'm not known for folding easily."
Shepard laughs. She turns her head to face her. "Really?"
Liara's smile is seductively confident. "Really."
Shepard slides closer, their lips near touching. Their eyes lock and hold. Shepard remembers all their heated passion. She can hear James bumbling his way out to them. "We'll see," she tells Liara before getting to her feet and joining Cortez in the cockpit.
At the time the decision had seemed life or death: the little black dress or the six-thousand credit Cision Pro Mark 4? While her teeth have ached (not literally) for the brush, Traynor is glad to have chosen the much more affordable dress—otherwise, what might she wear to Purgatory? Her Alliance uniform or fatigues won't do.
She explores the Presidium Commons, going from terminal to terminal doing a bit of window-shopping. She is oblivious to the appreciative glances she receives and spends more time than she means to in a game store, examining the various chessboards and other board games in stock. She alternates between being thrifty with the little money she has, or indulging herself—who knows how much time any of them have anymore?
She is woefully undecided when she takes notice of the time and leaves the store in a somewhat dispirited mood. When she remembers that she's to meet Shepard (and some of the other crew members of the Normandy) her spirits lift again. She's walking, enjoying the setting sun with a bounce in her step and a purse in her hand when she sees Liara, lingering near a small rest area. Cars dot the vast expanse of sky in the distance. Liara looks radiant, as usual.
It wouldn't hurt to stop by and say hello… anyway, it'd be rude to walk by and pretend she hasn't seen her. And only a square shows up to a club early. "Dr. T'soni," Traynor calls out. Liara lifts her head to look at her, eyes appraising her with what looks to be a small degree of surprise. "I didn't know you made it out to the presidium. If I had, I would have asked to keep you company."
"You can start now. A little earlier than scheduled." Liara says. She seems to usually have a smile, however small or wry or sad, on her face. Maybe it's in her nature being an asari. As it is, Traynor attempts to recall whether she had a meeting arranged with Liara. A moment later she recalls their tentative promise of more late night conversations. "You clean up nicely, Samantha."
"Thank you," she tries not to sound too elated. "I'm taking advantage. You don't usually have a reason to dress up when you're in the Alliance. Even less so in times like these," she steps beside her and watches the colors of the sky burn vibrantly, night peeking through the horizon. "Some of us are going to Purgatory tonight for drinks and dancing. Why don't you come along?"
"Me, in a place like that?"
"Why not? I'm sure a few of us," all of them, "wouldn't mind seeing Dr. T'soni let her hair down. Erm, in a manner of speaking, of course."
Liara laughs softly. "Perhaps if you were going somewhere else. Purgatory is too loud. I don't really care for that sort of music."
"What sort of music do you care for?"
"I don't know that I'm sure anymore." She frowns. "I imagine you think me strange for saying it. I prefer the quiet. Not as much as I used to. I used to spend a lot of time on Prothean dig sites, weeks on end with only myself and the occasional pirate and varren hunting me. I used to imagine that I knew everything about Prothean civilization that there was to know. How I dreamed of living there. Knowing Javik now I wonder if it was worth devoting so much of my life to the study. So much of what I thought I knew was wrong. The Protheans aren't who I thought they were."
Traynor thinks that the orange and red burning hues of the sky make Liara's skin look even more lovely than usual. "But if not for your studies you wouldn't have discovered the Crucible. You know, that thing that's going to help stop the Reapers."
"Right. Well, I hope so, anyway." she smiles and looks at her. "Thank you. For the perspective." Traynor watches the stars settle into the sky like a mist. It's almost a shame that she's promised to meet the group at Purgatory. "It was not my intention to keep you."
"I can't say I'd mind, Dr. T'soni." Traynor is aghast at how the words spilled out of her mouth. She bites the inside of her lip and grimaces. "I…apologize. Sometimes… I just say these things." She doesn't look at her. "But I don't suppose it comes as a surprise to you that you're attractive. Just saying," she mutters the last, "I think I just made that even worse," she says quieter still.
Liara allows a small smile. "I remember once having a familiar talent for rambling myself." She begins to walk away from the railing and inclines her head for Traynor to follow her, who does so unquestioningly. "I've gotten better about it. But maybe that's only because the majority of my interactions are with Glyph these days. I hope that I was half as charming as you are."
Oh. Don't blush, don't blush. "Don't you get lonely in that dark room by yourself all day?"
"Not really."
Oh. Well then, simple enough. Traynor walks beside Liara. The Presidium has emptied out quite a bit, all the shoppers having dwindled away with the closing of the shops. Traynor's heels click on the Citadel floor and Traynor becomes too conscious of her overdressed state. "Are you sure you won't join us tonight?" she is in no hurry to part from Liara.
"Very sure." She pauses. "Don't worry—I think you'll have more than enough company. Perhaps more than you'd like," she continues to walk, "and if Shepard is there… well. Consider your night done for."
"Care to elaborate on that remark?" she asks with an arched eyebrow. "She did say I owed her a dance," she confesses.
"No doubt you'll end up giving her more than that." She keeps walking and stops only when she realizes that Traynor's footsteps have slowed. Liara waits for her to catch up. Traynor is unsure if she's scowling, only aware that her face is making an expression that it wasn't before. They resume walking again. "Sorry. I don't mean to presume. But I know Shepard."
"Were you two…?"
"Yes. But not anymore. Shepard is nothing if not charismatic and tenacious. If you see her tonight… you'll have your hands full. And… if she has her way—so will she."
Liara says the words without batting an eye. Are all asari so wonderfully confident and unflappable? Traynor thinks that if she ever said a thing like that to a relative stranger she'd melt into a puddle of goo. Traynor doesn't know what to say.
Eventually they make their way to the elevators. Only a hint of color remains in the sky. Both women step into the transit elevator. The doors close, it's only the two of them. The ride to Purgatory will take several minutes.
"Are you going to the docking bay?" Traynor asks, certain that she's changing the subject and only hoping that she isn't blushing as furiously as she was minutes ago. Liara nods and Traynor has no immediate follow up. She watches Liara's profile and once again finds herself marveling at how elegant and attractive she is. "I hope… that you have a good night, then. When we separate," she clarifies. Shoot me now. She's not usually this awkward, is she? She thinks to explain to Liara that she only gets extraordinarily nervous around beautiful women but is grateful to bite her tongue to stop herself from further embarrassment.
The sound of the bass is audible moments before the elevator reaches its destination. Liara's mildly sardonic smile is a testament to how much Traynor would be wasting her time in asking her yet again to join them. The doors part. Traynor spots the sign for Purgatory in the distance, as well as clumps of people talking to one another. She turns to Liara whose smile shifts into teasing, her eyebrows arching. "You've got the whole night ahead of you," she says, "just think of all the trouble you could get into."
"Not too much. I'm in the Alliance. They don't take too kindly to rabble rousers."
"Unless they're Commander Shepard," Liara says, rolling her eyes. Traynor laughs, wondering how much of it is true. It would certainly fit with what she's seen of the Commander who doesn't look or act as if she's ever read a rulebook on proper command etiquette in her life. "I'd ask that you not do anything I wouldn't do… but I'm not sure if that'd get you into more or less trouble."
"Don't worry. I'm a good girl, Dr. T'soni." Unless she's lost a chess game and she's pissed.
"Liara," she corrects her. "And what's the fun in being a good girl? Less trouble, though. Admittedly, I've always had a hard time avoiding trouble altogether, even when I was a good girl." Traynor is staring at her when the elevator doors close behind her, the both of them still in the elevator. Liara chuckles softly. "Trying to follow me back to the Normandy?" Traynor is once again at a loss for words when Liara reaches past her, face close to hers, body near pressing her to the wall, and pushes the elevator button. "I'd pretend not to notice. Not until we were in private, anyway. Come by sometime. We can… analyze data." The doors slide open again. Traynor is pleased and disappointed with herself for not kissing Liara then and there.
It is with great reluctance and a foggy memory that she steps out of the elevator and bids Liara goodnight.
It takes a minute for her eyes to adjust to the darkness of Purgatory, cut to shards by the dancing, knifing lights. Everywhere people dance and shout and casually touch. The bass is so loud that Traynor feels it reverberating her heart. She looks for the others but can't find them among the clusters of people.
The purse is snatched from her hand, replaced by a drink before she even has the opportunity to shout at whatever thief has made the switch. A hand on her hip swivels her and in the darkness she sees an emphasis of full lips and the flashing of bright eyes. "Commander," Traynor says, unsure if it's the music that has jump started her heart or Commander Shepard's appearance and tactile hand.
"You came." She chucks Traynor's purse at James. "Hold on to that, will you?" she tells him. Traynor looks at him, horrified but she doesn't have time to dwell on it. Shepard's pulled her to the dance floor. Around them people jump and swing their arms around in excitement. Despite the quick pulse of the music, Shepard's movements are slow, her hands firmly situated on Traynor's hips.
Traynor doesn't know what to do with the drink. She senses her nerves are on the edge of frying. She downs the colorful drink that Shepard handed her previously. Shepard takes the empty glass from her and passes it to an anonymous passerby, giving them a deadly, warning look when they look like they're ready to protest.
"You're very rude, Commander." Traynor has never felt quite so nervous and excited despite the fact. If only emotions and logic worked more harmoniously! Trouble could be avoided…
Shepard smiles and pulls her closer. "We're going to have to be close if we want to hear each other here. Unless… you're not interested in talking?" Traynor lowers her hands to Shepard's to move them. "You look stunning," Shepard breathes in her ear. Traynor's hands stall. "Come on, what's the use in having hips if you aren't going to use them?" It takes Shepard's words for Traynor to realize that she hasn't been dancing. Traynor had heard rumors that Shepard can't dance. But maybe this isn't dancing, what they're doing verges on something else. "That's more like it."
"You're too close, Commander."
"So pull away."
Traynor lifts a hand, presses it to Shepard's chest. Shepard's fingers graze along the bottom of her dress, inching the material upward. Not enough for anyone else to notice but enough to make Traynor feverish and dizzy. She wonders if it's her imagination that makes Shepard's eyes take a glint of crimson glow in the darkness. Or it's possibly the lights. She lifts a hand to Shepard's face, touching along her scarred cheeks with slivers of red beneath. "How'd you get these?"
"Battle scars." Shepard presses against the hand Traynor has lifted, erasing any of the distance she'd created. "Anyone ever tell you I'm part Krogan?"
"You've all the tact of Wrex, from what I've seen," Traynor teases. Shepard laughs and dips her face in Traynor's neck. "What—" the words are cut off when she feels Shepard's hot lips place a kiss on her neck. She closes her eyes and releases a soft, shaking breath. Shepard continues, meeting the curve of her jaw, grazing her lips along her cheek but stopping short of her mouth. Shepard cups her face, thumb tugging gently at Traynor's lower lip. Their eyes meet.
"Tact's a waste of time. So what's it going to be, Specialist?"
Traynor has forgotten the question but is well aware that it was only just asked. Commander Shepard may be a brute but Traynor finds herself so overwhelmed with desire that she's shaky on her feet. It's been a long time since she's gone to bed with anyone, much less flirted. She doesn't know what it is that she means to answer. She doesn't have the opportunity. A shouting in the distance and the smashing of glass gets Shepard's attention.
Traynor turns her head in time to see a group of Alliance soldiers starting to brawl with some turian c-sec officers. "Gimme a break," Shepard mutters, irritably. Without a backward glance or word she's gone to intervene.
Traynor watches her delve into the group of fighting men, taking a few swings to both sides of the groups, her features twisted in indignation and anger. Minutes later, Traynor still can't hear her but she's pointing fingers, shoving men in the chest. Eventually, the two groups grudgingly shake hands and disperse, some going off jointly to have drinks. Shepard remains, arms crossed, talking to the few that remain.
She remembers that James still has her purse. She seeks him out by the bar, makes her apologies, buys him a drink in penance and reclaims her accessory. Perhaps it's time to call in for the night. Shepard is otherwise occupied and had too quickly left Traynor hot and bothered. But… would it be so bad to flirt with the Commander? I'm sure the Commander is only interested in flirting… Right. And she alone can stop the Reapers. Traynor rolls her eyes inwardly and is reaching the exit to Purgatory when Shepard takes her arm.
"Running off without so much as a goodbye," Shepard tsks, her arms crossing again lightly, "and people think I'm rude."
"I apologize, Commander. I thought you were still busy peacefully solving the conflict between that group of men." Her lips lift at the corners in gentle mocking, "wasn't there a diplomatic way to resolve the matter?"
"I let my fists handle diplomacy."
Traynor laughs. "Are you serious? I once saw a crappy VI of you—back when you were supposedly dead. It said these very ridiculous things, much reminiscent of a Chuck Norris gag they had on Earth centuries ago." Shepard's cocked eyebrow reveals the name has no meaning to her. "Anyway, I guess it wasn't so far off after all."
"So you see your commanding officer in a fight and your solution is to…run away?"
"I have to relax sometime, Commander. Unlike you, I don't get off on fighting." She's seen so little of fighting that at times it makes her feel like a coward, sitting in the comfort of the Normandy, at 'war'. Her efforts are clean and bloodless. She hasn't earned a war scratch yet.
"Fighting's not the only way I like to get off." Shepard takes Traynor's elbow and pulls her closer. "Come on, I just solved a dispute between a bunch of humans and turians. I should get some kind of reward."
"My commendation on a job well done is not satisfactory, then? You're greedy."
Shepard's eyes dance now, her smile wider. She's enjoying herself. "Only when I see something that I like."
"I've heard you're a bit of a player. And that part about you being charming… does appear to have some merit." Too much merit. "But, I have some work to do and I have a feeling that if I spent even a moment more with you… I'd be up all night."
"You say that like it's a bad thing."
At least her voice is convincing. Traynor gives herself a small point. "Goodnight, Commander." She cocks a smile, saluting before moving on her way. She shouldn't sleep with the Commander of the Normandy! Should she? She can at least flirt. There's nothing wrong with flirting. In fact, she'd been flirting with Liara T'Soni earlier hadn't she?
She blushes thinking of her evening.
Maybe Private Campbell and Westmoreland were right to tease her. It appears she does have a crush. Two of them.
